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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years

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New Amsterdam Chapter 113

“Sir, I have new information you must hear.” JARVIS’s voice rang quietly through Tony’s earpiece.

Tony tapped the button the side of the earpiece to turn on the blue light and make it look like he was on a call. “Yeah?” he asked as he flipped through his plans for the house he’d bought.

“The facility Project 23 was broken into,” JARVIS said calmly in Tony’s ear.

A lot more calm than Tony felt. “What?” he demanded as he grabbed the wristbands that hooked into one of his suits.

“All of the adults of the facility are currently missing and there is an alarmingly large smear of blood in one corner.”

Oh no. Tony felt his heart constrict, despite the fact that he didn’t have one anymore. “And the children?” he asked as he raced down the hall to the elevator.

“The children are, for the moment, unharmed. They are currently locked in individual rooms with no outside access.”

Meaning that if they didn’t get to the children soon, they would die. Or be retaken by SHIELD and moved to another facility. “Shit!” he swore as the elevator opened.

“Ms. Potts has already informed the team. They are on their way with the jet.”

They were heading out to rescue the children. Tony changed direction and headed towards a window he knew opened fully—because he’d designed it that way just in case of something like this. He jumped out of the window and simultaneously called for his suit which enveloped him as he fell before thrusting off in the direction of the facility.

“JARVIS, open a line to the manor,” Tony said.

“Mr. Stark, what in the world are you doing?” asked the cultured voice of the professor.

“Change of plans,” Tony said grimly. The world flew by him as he slowly (relatively speaking, of course) converged on the jet. “Something’s happened at the facility the children are in, and we need to get them now.”

“I’ve seen your plans, Mr. Stark,” the professor said firmly. “There isn’t anywhere for them to stay yet.”

The suit automatically swerved to one side to avoid running into a flying eagle that screeched at him. “Rude bird,” Tony muttered.

“Mr. Stark?”

“I was hoping I could impose on you while we’re putting the finishing touches on our own mansion.” Such as making sure the roof didn’t leak and finding out whatever was causing the red stains on the walls. “I’ll pay, of course.”

“I’m offended you’d ask. But I feel certain your scholarship foundation will find some likely young mutants to sponsor to our school.”

Tony grinned. “I’m certain you already have them picked out,” he said calmly. “Thanks Baldy; we’ll be there soon.”

The courtyard of the facility was a mess. There was a double chain-link fence topped with generous spirals of barbed wire, a mass of charred toys and playground equipment to one side, and a mess of blood, bits of skin, and tiny shreds of (mercifully) unidentified meat.

He was joined by Clint. “Something inhuman broke in here,” the spy/tracker said as he looked around the yard.

Natasha agreed. “There was a human here. Stood here for almost the whole thing. Maybe took three steps. Small feet,” she said pointing to indentations in the bare earth of the ground.

“Whatever took the guards had smaller feet, and were larger,” Clint added as he pointed.

“Looks like the humans were separated into two groups.” Natasha gestured towards a smooth area with her gun, an area that was free of blood. There were odd scratches and gouges in the dirt. “Not sure what happened there.”

Tony frowned. “All right,” he said firmly. “First order of business: secure the kids. I think we can all agree we need to get them out of here.”

“Where are they going to go?” asked Steve as he stepped into the courtyard. Bucky was right behind him, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes hard at what he was seeing.

There was a little bit of a static buzz as Pepper tapped into the coms. “We’ve got word from Professor Xavier that he’s ready to take care of these kids until we get our own mansion up and running,” she said.

“Right. Second order of business: grab everything that looks like it might hold any kind of information on it; I don’t care how trivial it looks. Think of this as a data dump Ladies and Gentlemen and rest assured that I won’t be asking any of you to pour over it. Ready?”

“No.” The cold voice came from someone between Bucky and the Winter Soldier. The eyes pierced Tony’s through the suit. He felt ice in his chest at the thought that the man might backslide. He hadn’t even considered that a possibility! “When we’re done—we level the place.”

“Fair enough,” Tony said with a nod before turning back towards the facility.

Natasha gestured him towards the building. “After you,” she said wryly.

“Thank you,” Tony said as he reached forwards, grabbed the door with one armored glove, and yanked it off the hinges. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said as he stepped inside.

The place was eerily quiet. The floors were tile that cracked under the armor and looked as though they may have been white at one time, but there was now an almost pinkish look to them. And to the walls. Tony didn’t want to think too hard about what happened.

The halls weren’t just quiet—they were almost silent. The only noises that Tony heard were the ever present humming of the electricity through the lines and the sounds his team made as they went further and further in. Images of reaching the children only to find them already dead, nothing more than their own bloody smears began to race through Tony’s head. He wanted to ask JARVIS for reassurance, for proof that the children were still alive and he wasn’t walking into a murder scene—but no. No, he still did not have complete trust in Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Bucky. They couldn't know about JARVIS, so he had to do this the hard way.

The facility was broken up into sections that were divided by more chain-link fence—that had been ripped through. Fearing the worst Tony maneuvered the suit through the wreckage towards where he last heard the children were. He wasn’t sure what he expected.

It certainly wasn’t rows of children in coffin sized cells made of Plexiglas with huge lights above them. It certainly wasn’t seeing those same children stand, at perfect attention, at the front of the cells in front of the doors. The broken door didn’t even register as he looked at all these children in perfect military stances.

Suddenly he was glad that Clint’s wife had gotten a battalion of therapists on standby. These children were going to need more therapy than he’d thought. There was no way his people, or the professor’s people, were prepared to deal with this.

There was a slight hiss as Steve followed him into the corridor, eyes switching between a lithe blond and bulky brunette. Tony wished he couldn't hear his friend’s heart breaking as he took in the absurdly accurate military stances the children were in. Or how the children barely seemed to be breathing.

“We got enough room in the jet for,” Tony did a rough count and, oh God, did he ever get around to telling Daredevil about this? “For about twenty children.”

“If you fly separate and take one of the others with you, we do. It’ll be tight, but we’ll make it.” Tony nodded grimly as he looked around the hall. He didn’t know what to do.

Steve did. “At ease,” he ordered. As one unit the children braced their feet and tucked their hands behind them. “Fall out,” Steve ordered.

The difference was startling. The children broke their ranks and walked up to the doors of their cells, looking out with curious eyes. Some of them looked fearful. Others wary. But most, particularly one child that looked too much like Tony for his comfort, were curious.

“Hi,” Tony said, waving.

“Hello,” the boy said politely. “Are you Iron Man?”

“I am.”

“I’m supposed to be you when I grow up,” the boy said calmly.

The realization that this boy was being raised not just as a soldier, but as a replacement floored Tony. It made sense, of course. What better way to get into Stark technology than by using someone who was already a Stark? Someone who had been trained from a young age to obey and not to think too much about things like consequences—or people.

“Well, maybe,” Tony said as the possibilities reeled inside his head like a death march. “If you want to, one day,” he said.

The boy looked confused. “If I want to?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Tony slid the face plate open so that the boy could see his face. “Being Iron Man is a choice, you know.”

“It is?” The boy looked—uncomfortable with the thought.

“Oh, yeah. But don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to decide if you want to be Iron Man. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be someone greater.”

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #interlude

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kiarcheo · 3 years

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A Whole New World 2/10

Jane and Kat find out there is more to each other…and to the new world they have found themselves in.

Read on Ao3 too

AN: I have seen Anne’s date of birth ranging from 1501 to 1507, and Jane’s between 1504 and 1509. For the sake of this story I consider Anne born in 1501 and consequently dying at 35, and Jane being born in 1508 and dying at 28.

Kat came back at 18 and Jane at 22, Anna, Cathy and Anne in their late twenties, and Catalina in her early thirties.

——————————————–

It becomes a regular thing. Sometimes it’s a museum Kat has already visited, sometimes a new one on the list she keeps of places she wants to see. They often make a day of it, treating themselves to lunch (usually at Jane’s initiative, since Kat tends to forego eating in favour of whatever has caught her interest), exploring parts of the city unknown to them.

One evening, close to dusk, they are walking through an empty park when Kat stops. ‘Have you ever wanted to try them out?’

‘Try what?’ Jane follows the direction of Kat’s gaze. ‘That?’

‘They look like fun.’

‘They are for children.’

‘Who said that? Besides, there are no children around...’ Kat trails off, eyebrow raised waiting for a response.

‘You know what? Why not?’

Kat lets out a small squeal before grabbing Jane’s hand and dragging her towards the playground.

‘Remember when you said “who said that they are just for children”?’ Jane asks as they are sitting on the platform, feet dangling down, recovering their breath and cooling down.

‘You mean, like, half an hour ago?’

‘Smartass.’ Jane gives her a look, before pointing to a sign. ‘Children’s Play Area. Only children under the age of 12 may use this play area.’

‘Well, technically we haven’t been back for that long?’

Jane shakes her head amused. Kat is so cheeky and she would have never guessed before spending so much time with her.

‘So what was your favourite part?’ she asks after a bout of silence. That is another thing that changed. Before, silent moments were much more common and awkward, now their quiet spells are rarer and yet infinitely more comfortable.

‘You falling off those.’ Kat motions with her head towards the monkey bars, getting a glare in response. ‘What about yours?’

‘The slides, I’d say.’

‘Yeah, they are nice. But too short, don’t you think?’

‘I know, right? By the time you pick up speed, you’re already at the end,’ Jane agrees. ‘They should make them longer. Adult-sized.’

‘Wait!’ Kat whips out her phone. ‘Let me...’

And Jane lets her. She has learnt that Kat's curiosity is insatiable. If she stumbles upon something she doesn’t know or doesn’t understand…she has to look it up. So many times, when their fellow queens mention (usually complain, actually) that Kat is always glued to her phone, Jane has been tempted to tell them that most of the time she is learning something new...but if Kat had not told them – not even if she would probably spare herself their scolding – then it’s not her place to tell them.

‘They exist!’ Kat exclaims angling the screen towards Jane. ‘Look! They even have playgrounds for adults!’

They look together at the photos for a while before Kat taps on a Wikipedia link, her first port of call every time. ‘Amusement parks,’ she starts to read the entry aloud before being interrupted by a text notification popping up on the screen.

Kat groans as she reads it.

‘What?’

‘Curfew,’ Kat sighs. ‘Apparently it’s late and they are wondering why I’m not home yet.’ She knows it’s because they care but... ‘Did you get one too?’

Jane checks her phone. ‘No.’

Kat sighs again. ‘One dies young once and she is forever treated like a baby.’ She notices the look Jane is sending her. ‘Please don’t start.’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘I can't make a joke that everyone freaks out thinking I’m depressed or having a breakdown or a flashback or something.’

Jane remembers clearly one of those occasions. They had been discussing nightmares and how everyone seemed to have them except Kat, who had commented that perhaps losing her head had meant losing everything that had been inside that too. She also remembers very clearly thinking that the reactions had been a bit disproportionate compared to Kat’s offhand tone and casual demeanour.

‘Sometimes a girl just wants to be self-deprecating. Or joke about her own death without being psychoanalysed and having people wanting to talk about your trauma.’

‘I get it. I said once that I had no time with Edward. I was just...stating a fact. I was not looking for pity or anything. But they tripped over themselves to reassure me that I was still his mother – which of course! – and that I’m still a mother now. And honestly. One has a child once and she is forever just a mother in everyone’s eyes. Don’t get me wrong. I wish I could have seen Edward grow up. Wish I could have been his mother. Properly. But I wasn’t. And out of all of us, I’m the one who had less time with children. Besides you, I was the youngest one to die. So I have no idea why everyone thinks of me as this motherly figure?’

Aware that she has been ranting, Jane chances a look at Kat, who has a peculiar expression on her face.

‘What?’ she asks, feeling self-conscious.

‘I’m just thinking how happy I am that you joined me that day at the museum.’

That had been the true start of their relationship, despite having lived together for many months prior to that.

‘You mean you're happy I caught you sneaking out?’

Jane knows what she means, though. They would have never thought, and even less found, they had so many things in common. Or that they could get along so well and have so much fun together.

‘I was not sneaking out.’

Jane merely looks at her.

‘I thought nobody was home. It was just out of habit.’

‘So all the other times you sneaked out.’

Kat doesn’t reply, knowing Jane is doing it just to annoy her. They had a similar talk the second time they went to a museum together, Jane asking why they were sort of hiding their trip. It was not that Kat thought they would stop her if they knew she was going out. But she just didn’t want to deal with their questions. About where she was going, why, why she was going alone, when she was coming back...Just easier to leave without them knowing and then simply tell them she had been out if they asked having noticed she had not been home. In their defence, they knew better than to pry and as long as she was home safely, they would let it go despite being curious.

‘I know you’re the one in charge of our museum days,’ Jane starts, ‘but I wanted to run an idea by you.’

‘Of course we can go to a museum of your choice. You don’t need to ask permission or whatever.’

‘Wait before agreeing.’

‘Is it the Tower?’ Kat winces with a grimace, trying to think of places still standing that Jane might be wary of asking her to visit.

Jane stops rummaging in her bag, her head shooting up. ‘What the fuck, Katherine??’

The younger girl is so lost in unpleasant memories that she doesn't even react to Jane’s swearing nor her full naming her. ‘Hampton Court?’

‘Why would I ever do something like that?’ Jane recoils. ‘God, no! The Clink.’

‘As-’

‘The prison! Not the-’

‘Brothels?’ Kat completes, eyebrow raised in amusement. Then she nods, almost to herself. The area had been known for two main things…the prison and for allowing usually forbidden activities.

‘Yes. I mean, they made a prison museum. You know I like true crime and–’

Yes. That had been a surprise. When Kat had asked if there was something she particularly enjoyed reading and learning about, like she loved history, that had definitely not been the answer she had expected. Jane must have known that, considering how much she hummed and hawed before caving after Kat had called bullshit – literally – on her non-committal answer.

‘–I think I’d like to– but I don’t want to, like, trigger you?’

‘What’s inside, exactly?’

Jane finally finds what she has been looking for in her bag and hands her a leaflet.

‘You know what?’ Kat takes a look at it. ‘We can go and you can...scout it out?’ She doesn’t see anything upsetting in the pictures, but there will be so much more in the museum that they can show in a single leaflet. ‘You can take a look before me and if you think there is something that might…disturb me, you tell me and I’ll skip that room?’

‘Really?’

‘I mean, you know I'm not too fussed about death and stuff like that as long as it’s not too bloody. Or neck-related.’

She is not too keen on watching documentaries with Jane, but she doesn’t mind listening to her talking about them. Or about whatever serial killer or unsolved crime she is currently reading about.

‘Thank you.’ Jane squeezes her arm, hoping Kat knows it’s not about agreeing to her request, but for her trust. ‘On an unrelated note...food?’

Jane’s constant preoccupation with food is another thing put down to her supposedly maternal instinct, a desire to make sure everyone is well-fed. The truth is…Jane loves eating. Being able to enjoy doing so without the ever-present worry of looking unladylike. Discovering new foods. She doesn’t eat a lot, but she needs to eat often, or she becomes…hangry, it’s what Kat called it. And it is only polite to ask if the others are feeling peckish too and want to join her. Moreover, she knows it’s one thing she can’t rely on Kat for, seeing as she is prone to skip meals if there is anything else she deems more important or interesting.

‘Do you think Catalina would consider this as traditional local food or...?’ Jane wonders aloud as she dips the churro in the plastic pot holding the chocolate sauce.

‘Possibly? Even if they were not invented by Spanish shepherds but brought by the Portuguese from China like some say, I think everyone agrees that by the 16th century they existed in Spain. And look, Romans had fried pastry, so, if not exactly that, something similar. And naturally cacao came to Europe after the Spanish invaded the Americas, so it arrived in Spain first, although if it was just after Cortés, Catalina would have been already in England…so she might have never tried churros with chocolate? Not sure when they started to combine the two, to be honest…’ Kat trails off. ‘What?’

‘Next person who says you’re stupid, I’ll deck them.’

Kat chuckles, bumping her hip into hers. ‘I appreciate the offer.’

‘It’s not an offer, it’s a promise.’

‘Ever thought about getting a car?’ Jane asks after they have been walking for a while.

‘Why? Tired? But not really. Honestly just the idea of getting into one and driving it myself is kind of terrifying.’

Jane nods. It sounds a bit like airplanes for her. It still boggles her mind that humans can fly. And she knows they are mostly safe and all, but it doesn’t mean she is keen on trying them out for herself.

‘I thought about getting a bicycle and learning how to ride,’ Kat continues.

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Yeah, and where would I hide it?’

‘Why would you need to hide it?’ Jane is puzzled enough to ignore Kat’s tone verging on the sarcastic rhetorical question inflection that usually implies someone had just asked a very stupid question.

‘With the potential of me getting hurt? Straying away, getting lost, or whatever? I don’t know if you have noticed, but the others tend to be a bit overprotective.’

And a bit is a euphemism. Don’t get her wrong. It is nice to have people caring and worrying about her. But she spent a lifetime fending for herself. And yes, she had her struggles, and the end might have been inglorious, but Anne wound up the same way and yet nobody questions her…or her capabilities. And okay, that might have something to do with age, but nobody cared about that before, and she had been a bloody queen (and quite a successful one, if she says so herself, at least before her past caught up with her)! Still, she doesn’t want to think how worse it would be if she had come back younger than she had been at the time of her death like the others did.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Jane asks, realising she is miles away, lost in thoughts.

‘How weird it would be if we had come back the same age we died. Well, besides me, obviously.’ She hopes she’ll be there to see it in person, but she can’t really think about Catalina as a 50-years-old woman or Anna in her forties. ‘And about how there is a fine line between heart-warming care and overbearing concern.’

Because, back to the point, she might have been more or less successful, but she is used to rely just on herself and getting by, not to have four other women, Jane to a lesser extent, being overly concerned about her. For certain matters, at least. Because for other things they seem perfectly happy to…perhaps not ignore her, but surely leave her to her own devices, without trying to get her involved. And she is often more than content with it, she will admit that…except that often it also leads to remarks about how she spends all her time at home, always in front a screen, and perhaps she should go out more? And then instead of standing up all night on her phone, she would tire herself out and sleep?

‘So you don’t want to check this out?’

Kat had not even realised they were walking past a sporting goods store.

‘Look! You could easily hide that.’ Jane points out to a small, colourful, tricycle, clearly meant for children.

‘Ah ah. Very funny.’ Sarcasm is heavy in Kat’s voice, but she follows her in.

‘What about this?’

‘A unicycle? Really? Have you ever seen one of those around, in public?’

Jane takes a moment to think about it. ‘Don’t think so.’

‘Exactly. Because they belong in the circus.’

‘One might say our house is a circus.’ They certainly have some chaotic days.

‘And you a clown.’

Jane gasps in mock offence. ‘I miss the days when you were afraid of me.’

‘I was never afraid of you. I was indifferent. And thought you were a stuck-up bore. Also, I know you don’t miss it.’

‘True,’ Jane admits easily. ‘Joking aside. We could put them in the shed?’

She had said once that she didn’t mind taking care of the garden and suddenly she had been left in charge of it, gardening apparently a passion of hers she didn’t even know she had. She supposes that it was deemed an appropriate hobby for boring old plain Jane (and yes, the fact that it is her actual name and not just a phrase in her case does not escape her), just like embroidery. She enjoys both of them, sure, but she is fairly confident the others think that’s all she does, no other interests – oh wait, there is cooking, or at least making sure that everyone is eating too! – which is something she tries not to dwell on too much because that’s frankly a bit (or a lot, depending on how she feels on the day) insulting.

‘We? Them?’ Kat raises an eyebrow. ‘But yes, we could store them there, but not really hide them if anyone happens to look inside. And certainly not two of them.’

Still, they continue to peruse the store.

‘What about these?’ Jane calls Kat’s attention, holding a pair of rollerblades up. ‘I’ve seen kids with them, can’t be that hard, can it?’ she continues once the girl comes over, looking interested.

‘Shoes on wheels? We’re so gonna die.’

Jane starts to put them back, slightly dejected, but Kat snatches them up. ‘Let’s do this.’

‘Yeah?’ She looks at her, tentative grin on her face.

Kat nods with gleeful smile. ‘Absolutely.’

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical #jane and kat #six fanfiction #fic: a whole new world #six fanfic #six the musical fanfic #mywork #six jane seymour #six katherine howard #six fic #six the musical fic #my ideas #six writing #my six posts #sixfic #my posts

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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A Handful of Baby’s Breath

Summary: Dani knows that her days are numbered. And even though she won't admit it allowed, Jamie is well aware of it too. It's the idea of leaving Jamie alone that brings a thought to her mind. A rather big, important thought. An idea of leaving a piece of herself behind. Or rather, two pieces of herself. Together, Dani and Jamie decide to expand their family. From pregnancy to years gone by, we see a new meaning in: "It's me. It's you. It's us."

Ship: Dani/Jamie

Rating: T

Status: Complete

A/N: I have no idea why I thought of this. I just like baby stories! Any inconsistencies I am so sorry! I did a lot of research, but I am still prone to mistakes! By the way, we are talking in vitro feralization. Hope you like it! -Jen

A Handful of Baby’s Breath

Jamie eyed the bouquet of flowers left neatly on the counter with mixed suspicion and amusement. Dani was not as well equipped as she was when it came to botanical knowledge, but she still had a rather decent eye for pretty flowers. The ones you’d use for romance and such. And yet, to her at least, a lone collection of white Baby’s Breath didn’t seem to fit the theme.

“An interesting find there, Poppins.” The other woman grinned, wiping her hands on a dish rag as her wife walked in. “Did you pick those yourself off the side of the road?”

“No…” Dani said, a nervous smile crossing her features as she entered the room. “I um...I drove a ways and bought them as a surprise. Getting them from you wouldn’t make much sense.”

She had that distant look in her eyes. A stare that made Jamie’s stomach knot. It was as if she was seeing something that only her gaze could meet. And the woman knew well enough that that was sometimes the case. Her brow furrowed as she stepped closer, a hand resting on her wife’s shoulder.

“What is it?” She asked softly, trying to hide the concern in tone. “Did you see…”

“No.” Dani interrupted, shaking her head vigorously. “No, it’s not that. It’s…” The woman paused, clearing her throat. “I want to talk to you about something. Something big.” Her blue eyes widened as she took Jamie’s hand and pulled her to the couch. “It’s not bad...maybe not...but...sit down first.”

“Okay…” Jamie said slowly, letting out a chuckle. “What did you do this time? You didn’t run into the light pole again. I told you we could replace that piece of junk. You don’t have to destroy the bloody car for that to happen.”

“Not the car.” The young woman assured her. “I...I don’t know how long I have left…”

“Don’t start.” Jamie cut her off, her mouth curving into a deep frown. “We talked about this. When the time comes, we’ll face this together.” Dani opened her mouth, but her wife held up her finger. “It’s alright. Everything is going to be just fine as it has been.”

“Whenever it happens, and it will, I don’t want you to be alone.” Dani insisted, straightening up in her seat to face Jamie. “So I’ve been thinking about it--quite constantly I might add, and I think that...well, we should have a baby.”

If she had been holding a glass of wine, this would be the moment she’d spew the liquid out in utter shock. Jamie stared back at Dani, who seemed rather calm as if she expected this reaction, with her mouth agape. Certainly she hadn’t heard her right. No, not possible. Or if she had, maybe she was beginning to lose her beloved much faster than she’d thought.

“A baby?!” Jamie blinked, eyes fixed on Dani. “As in a living, breathing, tiny human being?! That kind of baby?!”

“Well certainly not an animal, though I did consider that.” Her voice was calm, mellow as she spoke. “And I thought that perhaps, if you agree, I’ll carry the child. That way you’ll always have a piece of me.” She smiled contently at the thought. “I know she is inside of me. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve come to realize that her being there won’t affect any child we have.” Dani sighed and her gaze flickered towards the window. “At least I’d like to think that. That that part of me, my genetic makeup, is and will always be mine. A ghost can only possess so much.”

“And how, pray tell, if we did decide to do this absurd idea of yours would we go about it? Most places our union alone wouldn’t be accepted, much less both our names on a birth certificate. Hell, Poppins.” Jamie exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “It’s nice to see you with some pep in your step, but a baby…”

“In vitro fertilization.” Dani said confidently. “Many women have had success with it. We just have to find the right sperm donor and then...well, I suppose we hope that we’re lucky.” She took Jamie’s hands in both of hers. “I know it’s far, across the world, but there is a sperm bank in California who actually helps women like us. Not to mention that I am still technically an American citizen. And I know it isn’t the same, but there is something called Second Parent Adoption which would secure that no matter what happens to me, our child is yours. Custody and all. I know the wording is far from favorable, but we’d be a family. A whole family. And us knowing that, being that, is the only thing that matters.”

Jamie was silent, her hands still held in Dani’s. She could see the look of desperation in her wife’s eyes. The desire. The need. She didn’t like to think of losing her. Nor had she really ever seen herself as a mother. But here her wife sat nearly pleading the idea to her. It wouldn’t be an easy road. Perhaps not even successful. But Dani’s adamance. Her hope. Suddenly the gardener considered that maybe if she could keep a plant alive, a child couldn’t be that much harder.

“Is this what you really want?” She finally asked, gazing deep in the other woman’s eyes. “Really, really want?”

“More than anything.” Dani breathed.

“Alright then.” Jamie said, leaning forward to touch her forehead to Dani’s. “Let’s make a baby then.”

XXX

“Christ, it’s so hot…” Dani complained as she fanned herself with a leaflet. “Turn down the thermostat!”

“What can you expect in sunny California?” Her wife joked, walking over to hand the heavily pregnant woman a glass of water. “And to think it’s actually colder here than average. I’m rather comfortable myself.”

Dani threw her a dirty glare as she hobbled over to the kitchen table. So much had happened in the last eight months. Not only had their attempt to become pregnant worked on the first try, but Dani had found herself expecting twins. Thankfully both she and Jamie had experience dealing with two kids--even if one had been the au pair and the other a gardener.

“You should apply for US citizenship so you can remain here in America with the twins if things don’t work out.” Dani said quietly, sipping on her water. “Surely you meet the requirements. I’ve just been thinking, if we go back...when we got back to England and I’m...it’s just you three, if something were to arise, you’d have a place to call your second home.” She rested a hand on her belly thoughtfully. “I’m sure Henry would be more than willing to help out if need be.”

“We have talked to him in years.” Jamie exhaled, taking a seat beside her wife. “And I told you to stop worrying about silly stuff like that. One day at a time. Right now, the twins are healthy, you’re in one piece, and I’m not boiling over in the bloody heat.” She smiled and kissed the other woman, her hand moving to rest over hers. “Things will work themselves out as they normally do.”

“Well can we at least pick some names?” Dani exclaimed, motioning to her stomach. “That would take some anxiety off my mind. It would’ve helped if you let the doctor tell us what we were having too.”

“I quite like surprises.” Jamie stated with a shrug. “And we’ve only got a few weeks left. Not much longer now.” She seemed hesitate for a moment as if deep in thought. “How about Ernest for a boy? After that lovely drunk man who has taken a piss or two on the corner side diner?”

“I will pluck every petal from every bloom in your garden.” Her wife snorted, mouth twitching into a small smile. “Is picking a flower name too ironic? Rose seems lovely for any age. Or Hyacinth? I quite like that one actually.”

“Too common and too old sounding.” Jamie shook her head. “What about Albert? We can call him Al for short. Seems acceptable enough.”

Dani pursed her lips in consideration. “Maybe.” She said, gently stroking her stomach. “It’s the first acceptable name you’ve ever given me.” Jamie rolled her eyes and her wife snorted. “Fine, in case we have another boy...Joel.”

“Is there a reason for that name?” The other woman asked curiously.

“...I may or may not have had a dog with that name.” Danit replied sheepishly. “What?” She grinned as the words sent the gardener into a fit of laughter. “Were you expecting me to say it was an old crush?”

“Certainly not a dog, that’s for sure. But...I suppose I’ll allow it.” Jamie chewed on her bottom lip. “Albert and Joel...those aren’t too horrible to make them want to kill us when they are older.” Or rather, when she was older. Nevermind that. “We need girls’ names now. And before you say anything, if we must pick a plant name....Aster.”

“Aster?” Dani questioned, one of her brows cocked in question. “Aren’t you worried she’ll be made fun of for that?”

“Children make fun of any and everything.” Jamie yawned, leaning back in her chair. “Besides, if she is anything like us, she’ll be the alpha of the playground.”

“I don’t condone our daughter being violent.” Dani said, though it was hard to hide the amusement from her face. “...I guess it’s a nice enough name--and it is a flower.” She laced her fingers over the apex of her stomach. “Hannah.”

Jamie stiffened slightly at the mention of the late housekeeper. Hannah rarely came up in conversation. Mostly when the couple had paid a visit to Owen’s restaurant in the past. Dani’s eyes seemed to be studying her wife, waiting for a response to her suggestion.

“Hannah.” She nodded, smiling as she spoke. “I like that one a lot.”

It was, after all, a very good, dependable name.

XXX

She couldn’t believe she agreed to this. How could she have been so utterly stupid? Dani’s safety and well being far surpassed her wife’s fear of Jamie not being allowed to go into the delivery room. Whether they saw to it or not, she was the former au pair’s wife. Her family. But instead of a clean, medical equipment on hand, hospital room, her beloved partner writhed in agony in their bed as the weird midwife Dani insisted they hire and accompanying apprentice went about.

“There is still time for us to go!” Jamie pleaded as Dani squeezed the life out of her hand. “Come on, Poppins, you don’t want to do this here.”

“Yes...Yes I do!” Dani insisted through grunts, despite the lingering thought of an epidural beginning to sound more and more lovely. “I just...CHRIST!” Part of her wanted to strangle Jamie in that moment. Her poor, innocent wife. If she remembered, she’d apologize later. “You have NO idea what this is like!”

“And I’m rather glad for that.” Jamie thought to herself as she knelt by Dani’s side. “Do you want to get into the tub--”

“I said NO WATER!” And the ferocity in the former au pair’s tone shut the other woman up quick. “Please, I just want to push! I feel like I have to! I’ve been having contraction after contraction for hours! I. Want. To. Push!”

“Lydia, light the incense please.” The midwife said calmly as the other woman lit some sticks that smelt of horrible, faux lavender. “Let me see where you are.”

The phone was just inches away from her grasp as Jamie eyed it longingly from her spot beside the bed. If she could just unlatch herself from Dani, maybe she could call the emergency hotline and have her wife transported to a location with an actual doctor. Images of Dani hemorrhaging out and blue tinted babies filled the woman’s head as the midwife smiled.

“Dani, you are definitely ready to deliver your children. Are you ready to become a mom?”

Are you ready to become a mom? The words floated in the gardener’s head and embedded themselves in her mind. As she looked to Dani, it was evident in her tired expression that she too was nervous. Now was not the time to show worry. Not when her wife needed her most. Forcing a smile, Jamie squeezed her wife’s hand.

“Let’s have us some babies then.”

Time felt faster than it probably actually was. For a second, it seemed as if it was only her and Dani. Then, bright pink with a healthy wail, Albert Joel Clayton was placed on his mother’s chest. And, as it should be, not long after, just as full of life as her brother, Hannah Aster Clayton made her own appearance in this world. A little boy and girl. Two moms and two children. What more could one ask for?

“You were brilliant, Poppins.” Jamie beamed, kissing her wife lovingly. “They’re perfect.”

“Yes.” Dani agreed, smiling brightly despite her exhaustion. “They are, aren’t they.” She held the infants close to her bare skin and closed her eyes. “I don’t want this to end.” The new mother whispered. And for the first time, Jamie could see tears of sadness welling up in the corners of her eyes. “I’m not ready.”

“It won’t end.” Jamie exclaimed, smoothing her partner’s hair down. “I won’t allow it.”

The former au pair opened her eyes and gave a sorrowful, watery smile. “Okay.” She murmured, swallowing hard. Though Jamie didn’t know it yet, Dani knew that her time was soon approaching. “Let’s stay together then.” Her eyes flickered down to the twins. “One day at a time.”

XXX

It would be a happier tale to say that after everything, Dani was not taken over by the Lady of the Lake. That she and Jamie got to raise their children together. Live as a happy family. But such good endings did not follow the family’s return to England from their temporary stay in the States.

At first, Jamie had hoped that Dani was just suffering from postpartum depression. She rarely ate. Slept at odd hours. And her interest in the babies was not what one would expect. But the final straw that broke the camel’s back. That snapped Dani to realizing she must leave in order to protect her family came one night after Sunday dinner.

“I think you got more peas on the floor than in you, Al.” Jamie smirked at the ten month old as she made her way to the kitchen. “Poppins, where is the broom? Albert--”

Jamie stopped in her tracks, her heart leaping out of her chest. There Dani stood, completely stone faced and about to submerge Hannah in the filled up sink. Reacting quickly, the gardener rushed over and snatched her daughter away causing her wife to snap out of her trance.

“What happened?!” She asked, her tone inflected with terror as she looked from the sink to her wailing child. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Dani’s trembling hands flew to her face as her stomach threatened to dry heave. “I didn’t...I didn’t…”

“Dani, everything is alright now.” Jamie said, her own voice still a little shaky. “Hannah’s fine. You didn’t hurt her.”

“I almost drowned our child!” Dani wailed, throwing her arms up in the air. “Dammit, Jamie, can’t you see?! She’s here! I can feel her inside of me! I’ve felt her growing since the twins were born!” The former au pair began to shake her head violently. “No! No! I won’t! I can’t! I have to go!”

“No!” Jamie snapped. “No! You aren’t going anywhere! We’ll figure this out! It could be a phase!”

Dani only stared at Hannah, who currently had her face buried in Jamie’s chest. “I need to sit down and have a drink.” She said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Jamie cleaned up after that, watching as Dani sauntered off to bed. She forced a smile as she bathed the twins and dressed them for sleep. By the time she made it to their room, the gardener merely assumed that her wife had fallen fast asleep. And that maybe things would be better in the morning. What an utterly, terrible mistake to make. How painful it can be to wake up alone in bed.

Between coming to and Owen’s arrival to watch the twins, only an hour had passed before Jamie found herself speeding to Bly Manor. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still a chance. The thought of it kept her going. Her love for Dani. Their children. And even when she swam deep out to the middle of that horrid lake and dove to its depths, she still prayed. Oh how even in death her beloved wife appeared so breathtaking.

It’s you. It’s me. It’s us.

It’s us.

XXX

The only thing that seemed to excite the twins at Flora’s wedding was the cake. Though they did not know her and she did not remember any reason of why or who she might associate them with, the three got along perfectly splendid. Jamie, who was practically a stranger to the girl but had been invited by Henry, offered to take them somewhere quiet, but she insisted that the children play. It was, after all, something she would’ve done.

“Is your Mummy dead too?” Hannah asked randomly when the bride went to see how her favorite guests were doing.

“What would make you ask that?” The woman smiled curiously.

“Well she isn’t here.” Albert remarked. “Our Mummy is dead. Well, one of our mummies.”

“Our other Mama is alive.” His sister added on cheerfully. “Very much so!”

“I miss my mother.” Flora said kneeling down. “But do you know what my uncle told me?”

“What?” Albert asked, sounding quite serious despite his young age.

“He said that she is always right here with me.” The bride replied, gently touching both of their chests. “In our hearts.”

The twins looked at each other and giggled. Flora’s brows furrowed in confusion. It seemed a very odd thing to find humorous.

“That’s so silly!” Hannah grinned, meeting the woman’s stare. “Mummy isn’t in our hearts! No, Mummy comes out at night. Sometimes she visits us.”

“But she doesn’t talk.” Hannah informed her. “Sometimes she watches me or just walks.” The young girl tilted her head. “You’ve never seen your Mummy?”

Before Flora could question them more, Jamie swooped in. Wrapping her arounds around the children, she apologized to the bride. At least, given their age, their recounting might be viewed as nothing more than fiction.

“Remember we don’t talk about Mummy here.” Jamie said kneeling in front of her kids.

“Mama?” Albert began, tugging at one of his loose buttons. “How come people like the nice lady don’t visit us? Not even Uncle Owen?”

“Well…” His mother began, choosing her next words carefully. “When you live at Bly Manor, it’s sort of a...special place. Magical. And for Mummy’s sake, we want to keep it that way, don’t we?”

Both the children nodded their heads and Jamie smiled. Pressing a kiss to the top of each of their heads, she allowed them to go running off towards the dance floor. Owen would be there, she knew, with the promise of sweets. And later on, she would drive the three of them home and tuck the two away in bed. Then she’d wait. Like every night since.

She hadn’t gone back to America like Dani had insisted. Instead, with Henry’s good graces and making sure it was safe for her children. That all that bad and terrible was gone. They had moved into Bly Manor. She, the twins, and their Mummy of the Lake who visited on more than one occasion. The beautiful spirit who she someday hoped would allow her to roam the endless gardens and stone too.

Pulling out a chair, she sat down with a smile, repeating the same phrase that held a new meaning now.

“It’s you. It’s me. It’s us.”

So I guess this has a happy-ish ending? I was rather unclear on the dates following Dani and Jamie getting together and then Flora’s wedding. So I had the twins be born closer to when Dani was overtaken by the Lady of the Lake and at Flora’s wedding the kids were closer to Flora and Miles when they were young on the show? Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

#The Haunting of Bly Manor #Dani Clayton #dani x jamie #jamie x dani

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

God Forgive Us All (part one)

[Carrie AU]

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word Count: 5694

TW: Blood, bullying, child abuse, unflattering depictions of religious people, minor self harm

———————

-And Eve Was Weak-

You never really do get used to the heat of stage lights. Even after four years in theater, Anne never grew a resistance to the sweltering heat and blindingly bright lights that beamed down on the stage when performing. By the end of a mere rehearsal, her forehead was dotted with sweat and her green earrings gifted to her by her girlfriend felt like twin pieces of the sun blazing against her skull.

“Alright, everyone,” The stage manager, a bold, powerful woman named Catalina de Aragon, boomed. “That’s good for today! You all did wonderful!”

Several sighs of relief swept through the stage. The group of actresses either doubled over or put their hands behind their heads and took deep breaths. Eight-hour-long rehearsals like that always wrung them dry, but Aragon wanted to keep them sharp, and it did, even if it was exhausting.

“If you think this is bad,” Aragon said with a teasing smile, “just wait until our live TV debut. Now THOSE lights will fry you to the bone.”

There was a scattering of grins and giggles. Despite the heat from the lights, they were all excited for the upcoming TV performance of their musical, Heathers, in which Anne proudly played Heather Duke.

“Just wait until you get to be in that trench coat,” A voice said to her left.

She turned to see Jane Seymour, their Veronica Sawyer, grinning toothily at Cathy Parr, who also doubled as their incredibly talented, incredibly wonderful, and incredibly beautiful Jason Dean. Though, Anne may be a bit biased. She was dating her, after all.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Cathy said. “I’m already soaked enough.”

“Which will make Dead Girl Walking even better,” Jane tittered, earning her a playful elbow to the ribs.

“Oi!” Anne barked. “Paws off, Seymour! She’s all mine!”

“I bet you two make Dead Girl Walking really happen in bed,” Their Heather Chandler, Anna Cleves, commented while passing by. She grinned at them over her shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Anne fired back, making Anna chortle and Cathy whack her arm.

“Enough of that.” Cathy hissed. “Come on, let’s go take a shower. I feel all sticky.”

“Sweat does that,” Katherine Howard, or Kitty, the gremlin-like Heather McNamara, piped in helpfully. Trailing behind her was Maggie Wyatt, the Ms. Fleming. Unlike most of the others in the production, the two of them were both teenagers, with Kitty being fifteen and Maggie being seventeen, but they were absolutely brilliant when it came to acting and signing, so it was no wonder why they scored a spot in a West End show.

“Yes, thank you, Kitty. I had no idea.”

Kitty and Maggie both giggled, but their expressions simultaneously went sour all of a sudden. Kitty slowed down in her stride to huddle in between Jane and Anne, while Maggie wrinkled her nose in visible distaste. Anne didn’t even have to ask what was bothering them, she, sadly, already knew.

“Uh-oh,” Maggie muttered, “Here comes Jitterbug.”

Most people would furrow their eyebrows and look around in confusion, wondering who would possibly give their child such a weird name, but everyone in the theater was used to hearing such a title. They all knew exactly who it was referring to.

The girl was the definition of sickly- shockingly thin, with sharp jawbones, a narrow chest, and deep hollows under her startlingly silver eyes, which were as grey and shiny as the moon. She was very pale, too, like she would shrivel up and die if she so much as stood out in the sun for too long. Her head was dipped low as she passed by the group of actresses cautiously and she had her hands wrung anxiously in her wrinkled baby blue flannel shirt, which helped explain why she had a nickname like “Jitterbug”- she was always doing some sort of nervous tick, whether it being leg bouncing or straw chewing or hand flexing, and it easily became a target of mockery by other people in the theater. She always wore a cross necklace around her neck, and today it was still in the same position as it had been the day before- lying peacefully on her bony chest.

“Her name is Joan,” Anne whispered.

Joan Meutas. A pianist in the pit. Not an actress. So you would think that would make her unimportant and ignored, and yet...

“Yeah, I know,” Maggie said, not keeping her voice low. She probably wanted Joan to hear her, which wasn’t much of a surprise. “But she’s so jittery. And super weird.”

“You know that,” Kitty said, poking Anne. “Did you see her today? When it was lunchtime she prayed before she ate!”

Anne frowned and shook her head. She never really did like the treatment of the poor girl, especially when it came from so many adults and Joan was only sixteen, but she was just one person against an entire theater. What could she do?

“Hey!” A voice shouted from inside the women’s shower room. “Watch where you’re walking!”

Anne and her friends entered the showers and bathroom to find a flurry of towels and clothes and bare skin. Shampoo of lavender and pear, coconut and watermelon, honey and vanilla all mixed together into an overwhelmingly sweet odor that wafted throughout the room. It was almost as thick as the steam whirling from the many hot showers going on.

And, in the midst of all the cleaning and bathing, there was Joan “Jitterbug” Meutas, staring guiltily down at a few fallen bottles of soap she had accidentally scattered with her feet. The look plastered on her face made it seem like this little mishap was much more than a minor inconvenience to her.

“I-I’m sorry,” She whispered, although her shaking voice could barely be heard over the cacophony around her. Her natural stutter was more prominent because she was scared.

“Can’t you use those creepy eyes of yours?” The owner of the bottles, a woman old enough to probably be married, spat. “Or are you as blind as you are useless?”

Anne clenched her jaw. This lady was an adult and she was picking on this child as if it were just a simple schoolyard, playground argument. It was so wrong. So, so wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Joan said again, this time even softer, but it went unheard when Kitty suddenly jumped into the conversation eagerly.

“Did she get in trouble?” The girl asked, eyes glowing with cruel mischief. “I knew she would get in trouble if she came in here! Did you clobber her?”

“I wish,” The woman snorted. She glanced at Joan, as if considering beating the poor girl into a bloody pulp for simply knocking over her soap, but thought against it. “Don’t do it again, brat. Or I’ll have you fired.”

Joan nodded with one more shaky “I’m sorry” before shuffling over to one of the benches and sitting down. She hunched her shoulders around her neck instantly, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her hands were tightly grasping a set of neatly-folded clothes she had brought in for herself. It was so pitiful. Everyone was anxious in some way, but with Joan it ran deeper, all the way to paralyzing fear.

“I can’t believe we have to change with her,” Jane muttered. “She could do something to us. To the children!” She cast a worried look at Kitty and Maggie.

“She’s a child, too, you know,” Cathy pointed out. “Come on, ease up on her. She’s not that bad.”

Jane snorted, but left the conversation there and glided off to a shower that had just opened up, which was also the one that Joan was about to go into, causing the girl to slam herself back down onto the bench instantly. Anne looked at her girlfriend with an appraising expression. Cathy enjoying the bullying of a teenager definitely would have put a dent in their relationship.

“Thank you,” Anne said to Cathy in relief.

“You really thought I would be in on this harassment?” Cathy raised an eyebrow. “Do you have no faith in me?” She grinned teasingly at Anne.

“No, of course not!” Anne said hurriedly. “But you never know. I just worry.”

“I know you do.” Cathy pecked her on the cheek and then went to fetch fresh towels.

Anne smiled, watching her go, then noticed a twitch on Joan’s expression out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, thinking the girl may have finally gotten angry at her treatment, but instead just saw that her expression was twinged with pain. One of her hands was gripping at her stomach. Curious and concerned, Anne stepped over to her.

“Hey,” She said softly as to not shock Joan, but she still flinched anyway. “Are you okay?”

The look she got was almost comical. It was a mix of shock and adoration, with a hint of caution flickering in Joan’s silver eyes. She blinked several times, opening and closing her mouth like a startled fish that had just been pulled out of the water, before finally stuttering out, “U-uh-huh.”

“Are you sure?” Anne slowly sat down next to Joan, slightly surprised to find that she didn’t jerk away. In fact, she swore it almost looked like Joan wanted to curl up against her and fall asleep. “You look a little hurt. Physically, I mean. I’m sure everything hurts mentally....” She trailed off awkwardly.

“M-my stomach just hurts a little,” Joan mumbled shyly. “That’s all.”

“I see.” Anne said. “Well, I hope you feel better soon, Joan.”

She gave the girl a comforting pat on the shoulder and then stood up, going over to one of the now-open showers. She hung her clothes and towel on the stall door, then stepped inside and got undressed. She cranked the shower nozzle and hot water cascaded all over her body, washing away the sticky sheen of sweat that had been caked over her skin.

It always felt nice to take a shower after a long day of rehearsals. She loved being able to get clean, finally relaxing when she was done with hours of line run throughs and dance move reciting.

Someone got into the shower next to her; she could hear the click of the lock and the splash of water sluicing under feet. When she peeked down, she saw that the toenails weren’t painted, so it couldn’t have been Kitty or Maggie. She didn’t pay much mind to discovering who her stall neighbor was, though. She just tried to relax under the warm spray of water washing her clean and soothing her sore muscles.

And then she heard the shaky gasp.

It came from her left, from the girl without her toenails painted. The noise had been so soft and subtle that Anne thought she hadn’t heard anything at all, that it was just her imagination, but then she heard it again, this time slightly louder.

A shaky gasp. A definite whimper.

She peeked down again and saw something mixing with the water. It spiraled down the drain before she could get a good look, but she merely shrugged it off as none of her business and went back to washing her hair.

Or, she tried to, at least. It was a little hard when the girl next to her suddenly let out a sharp whimper and burst out of the stall.

“H-help me!”

Was that...?

Oh god.

Anne turned off the shower, not caring that she still had shampoo in her hair, and peeked out of the stall. What she saw made her heart sink into her stomach.

Joan, completely naked, was stumbling to a group of women with a horrified look on her face. She reached a desperate hand out to Cathy, leaving a red stain smeared against the woman’s blue blouse, and clung on for dear life.

“Help me!” Joan cried again. “Help me! S-something’s wrong!”

Cathy immediately recoiled in shock, causing Joan to stumble backwards clumsily. Everyone looked down at the handprint stained in crimson on her shirt. Jane gave Joan an evil look.

“What the fuck!” She roared. “Her shirt!”

“What is WRONG with you?” Maggie said.

“Some kind of freak seizure?” Kitty guessed.

And then they all noticed the trails of red running down Joan’s inner thighs.

“I-I’m bleeding!” Joan whimpered.

“Oh my god,” Kitty exclaimed as Jane’s face twisted with nausea. Cathy paled, looking down at her ruined shirt again. “It’s period blood!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jane hissed.

“It’s just your period!” Maggie said in amusement to Joan at the same time. She went over to the toiletry dispenser and took out a tampon. She offered it to Joan. “Just plug it up!”

Despite the moment of kindness, Joan was far too shellshocked and confused to understand what was going on, and so she reached out to Maggie’s hand desperately, hoping for some kind of comfort. Maggie instantly reeled away with a revolted gag when some of Joan’s period blood dripped onto her fingers.

“Oh fuck!” She yelled. “I got some of her pussy juice on me!”

“Gross!” Kitty squealed.

“P-please help me!” Joan howled. “I-I’m dying!”

“How do you not know what your period is?” Kitty asked her. “Are you that stupid?”

Joan merely let out a strangled whimper. A small pool of blood has accumulated around her feet and she’s now hunched over from obvious cramps. She’s shaking so badly that it looked like she may have actually been having a seizure.

When the other women noticed that they weren’t going to get through to Joan, they all turned to a different alternative instead of trying to help her- throwing tampons and pads at the poor thing.

“PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP!” The group cheered.

Joan stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. Blood smeared across her thighs and the floor, causing several women to sneer in repulsion. Kitty took her phone out and began to record the freak out.

“HELP ME!!” Joan shrieked. “P-PLEASE H-HELP ME!!”

“PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP!!” The group just sang louder.

Joan began to scream and cry, collapsing onto her side and curling into a trembling ball as blood oozed out from between her thighs and she was hit with a storm of women’s toiletry items. She just kept wailing at the top of her lungs, absolutely horrified and traumatized about what was happening to her. And Anne could only watch from her shower stall as the poor child was terrorized.

“Hey! HEY!!”

The voice was booming thunder in the rain or mockery and tampons.

“Ladies! Ladies! What the hell is going on here?!”

Aragon pushed her way through mayhem to the front and set her eyes upon one of the musical’s young musicians shaking and sobbing and curled up on the tile in heap of her own blood coming from her vagina and pads and tampons. She stiffened and blinked, clearly not expecting this image of all things and definitely not having learned how to deal with it from her training to be a stage manager, but she set her jaw in determination anyway.

“Okay,” She breathed out, pushing her shock to the side. She took a tentative step forward, which was enough to make Joan flinch and flounder awkwardly in the mess around her. “Okay... It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”

Joan didn’t seem convinced- she kept gasping and wheezing like she was having a panic attack and whimpering in distress. She huddled against one of the closed showers, trembling violently.

“Come on, stand up,” Aragon encouraged softly. “Let’s get you stand up.”

“N-no, I-I can’t!” Joan mewled. Like before, so desperate for comfort, she reached out to Aragon for help, grasping onto her yellow skirt with both bloody hands and hanging on like her life depended on it. Several of the gawkers gagged. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“Joan, come on.” Aragon tried again. If the period blood getting wiped on her skirt bothered her, she didn't show it. “Stand up. Can you stand up?”

“It hurts!” Joan wailed. Her grip on Aragon faltered and crumpled back into herself. “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”

Aragon, who was usually so headstrong and sure of herself, looked dumbfounded. “Honey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Cathy, who had been watching silently, stepped up next to Aragon. The stage manager momentarily glanced at the stain on her shirt that matched on the ones on her skirt.

“I don’t think she knows it’s her period,” Cathy told Aragon softly.

“NO!!” Joan cried instantly. “No! No! No! No!” Her panic was building. Her shaking was getting worse.

“Cathy, leave!” Aragon snarled, glaring at the woman at her side.

“But-”

“You aren’t helping!”

Joan’s cries were getting louder and louder and more and more shrill by the second. She was practically heaving, her lanky little body jerking and spasming. She looked so much more thin without any clothes to cover her skeletal frame. Her stomach was sunken in and her ribs were slightly visible through her milky white, doughy skin.

“Joan! Joan!” Aragon shouted to the panicking girl, but nothing she said was getting through to her, so she promptly raised her hand and slapped Joan across the face.

Gasps whisked through the shower room. Joan’s screaming was cut off with a sharp, alarmed squeak. She tentatively touched her stinging cheek with a bloodied hand and then whimpered pathetically.

A light overhead exploded and shattered into millions of pieces.

There were several startled yelps as the women leapt out of the way of falling glass. A few were cut, but not badly. Aragon grit her teeth at the commotion her actresses were making.

“Everybody out!” She roared. “Right now!”

Everyone obeyed, shuffling out as quickly as they could, but not without a few final glances over their shoulder at Joan. Anne was the only one who stayed, remaining hidden in her stall, listening.

“Hey, hey,” She heard Aragon murmur in the gentlest voice she’s ever heard her use before. “Deep breaths. Come here.”

She took Joan into her arms and Joan immediately curled up like she’s never been held before in her entire life. She buried her face against Aragon’s chest, weeping softly.

“Come on, it’s okay. You’re okay, sweetie.” Aragon said gently. “It’s totally normal. You’re not in trouble. It’s okay.”

She just kept reassuring Joan again and again, cupping her head against her chest protectively and using the other hand to rub her back comfortingly. Anne watched them from her shower stall with a frown until Aragon eventually got Joan to stand up, get changed, and walk out with her. Then, she finally got to washing the rest of the shampoo out of her hair in an eerily silent shower room with a broken light and period blood spattered across the floor.

———

“Are you, uhh, feeling any better? Need some Aspirin? Some juice?”

“Juice? Really, Tony?”

The director raised his hands in a mock surrender, then peered back at the trembling girl sitting in front of him. There was a flicker of worry in his eyes, but he seemed more concerned about what this would do to his production. After all, a cast needed to be close to work best, and the actresses terrorizing one of their coworkers would definitely make things difficult to achieve that unity.

“Do you want us to just leave you alone?”

There was no reply once again. Joan was way too shellshocked to answer. Instead, she was just wrapping one of her fingers in the chain of her cross necklace and tugging on it nervously.

“Joan, honey,” Aragon knelt down in front of the chair Joan was sitting in. “I am so sorry I slapped you. I should have handled that situation better.”

Joan just stared up at her with big, sad silver eyes that looked so much like an injured lamb’s.

“You know, getting your period is totally normal.” Aragon tried to smooth her panic out. “Usually it just comes a little bit sooner.” She paused, hesitated, then quietly asked, “Is this your first time?”

Aragon wasn’t sure who looked more uncomfortable: Joan or the director. Both seemed supremely uneasy with the question, but the director was sweating awkwardly and kept trying to open his mouth to interject, only to think against it. Aragon shot him an irritated glower.

Joan herself was quiet for a long time, but eventually squeaked out, “M-my mama never t-told me about it...”

“Oh, baby...” Aragon cooed pitifully. She sat down next to Joan and set a hand on her shoulder, feeling her jump and then lean slightly into her touch. “Do you know what’s happening to your body?”

The director wiped away a bead of sweat from his brow.

“I...I thought I f-felt something m-move...down there...” Joan said softly.

The director’s eyes bulged so far out of their sockets that it was a miracle that they didn’t pop out completely.

“Honey...”

“W-well—” The director suddenly interjected. Aragon gave him a warning glare and he shuffled over to the water cooler in the room, poured himself a cup, took a drink, crushed it, and then tried again with speaking on the topic. “Maybe you could talk to a therapist! Or a nurse! At the A and E!”

Aragon looked at him as if he were crazy. He rubbed his palms against his pants and took a seat at the front desk, clearing his throat. He did his best to make himself look refined and sophisticated, but that was impossible with his lack of knowledge over a completely normal situation and from the way he kept making it even weirder than it needed to be.

“But what I want to know—” He said, attempting to steer away from the period talk. “Is who started throwing...the things.”

Aragon rolled her eyes at his behavior. She expected nothing less from men.

“It was Jane Seymour, Maggie Lee, and Katherine Howard. Then everyone else joined in.” She said.

“Julia-”

“Joan.” Aragon corrected firmly.

“Joan.” The director said again. “Did those three girls start this?”

“Don’t call them ‘girls’, Tony. One of them is a grown ass woman.” Aragon said bitterly.

“But the other two aren’t,” The director said, then turned his gaze back to Joan expectantly.

Joan opened her mouth, looked up at the director, then closed it and shrunk back in her chair. She suddenly found the floor a lot more interesting.

“Sweet pea, you don’t have to defend them.” Aragon told her. “What they did was unforgivable and awful. You won’t get in trouble for telling us the truth.”

“I-I won’t g-get f-fired?” Joan sniffled feebly.

“No, no, honey,” Aragon tucked a stray lock of wet hair behind Joan’s ear and this time she definitely felt the girl lean into her touch. “Of course you won’t. You’ll still work here.”

Joan nodded, but she still wasn’t able to speak up. She gave Aragon a deeply apologetic look and then lowered her head uselessly.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like June-”

“Joan.” Aragon snarled.

“Joan—” The director corrected himself quickly, eyeing Aragon warily, as if he were expecting her to leap over the desk and strangle him. “—is going to point any fingers, so Catalina I’m going to let you handle this with the ladies. Let the punishment fit the crime.”

“Okay,” Aragon nodded. “I’ll fire them.”

The director floundered. Aragon smirked. Even Joan made a tiny, amused sound that wasn’t quite a giggle, but it was something else from her usual whimpers and distressed noises.

“What? No!” The director warbled. “Not that!”

“Why not?” Aragon said dismissively. “We have understudies for a reason.”

“You can’t fire an entire cast! The understudies are not as good as the all-star cast! That’s why they’re understudies! They’re good, but not good enough!”

“I-I think the understudies are really good,” Joan offered meekly. Aragon smiled at her and she even cracked a ghost of her own on her pale lips.

“They are, aren’t they?” Aragon said.

“You are not firing our stars.” The director said firmly. “You can do anything else! Just not that!” He cleared his throat, calming himself. “Now. Due to this...issue...Joan,” He glanced at Aragon when he used the correct name, “I’m going to have to call your mother to pick you up for the day.”

Joan stiffened like she had been struck by lightning. She went horrifically pale- paler than she usually was.

“Wh-what?” She whispered.

“I’m calling your mother,” The director said again. He furrowed his eyebrows at her distress. “You’re a minor, Joan. Your parents have to be called when something is wrong. And you need to be picked up. I know it’s basically the end of rehearsals, but you probably shouldn’t stick around any longer than you have to.”

“No,” Joan said in a voice that’s strangled with fear. Her eyes are wide, like she’s already predicting a million different futures where this goes horribly wrong and gets her in trouble or humiliated again.

“We have to get your mother involved.” Aragon said gently, hoping to get through to the frightened girl. “She needs to know.”

“No!!” Joan cried, and then the water cooler against the wall burst apart.

———

Bernadette Meutas was as sickly as her daughter, but less so physically, and more so mentally. She had wide, wild, and bloodshot moss green eyes that were sucked into their sockets and sunken cheeks that made her head look more like a dead person’s skull. Her lips were frayed and bloodied from constant chewing on the flesh and her wrists were covered in scars, some old, some new.

Joan always hated the scars on her mother’s wrists. They made her feel guilty, like it was her fault that they were there.

“So, you’re a woman now,” Bernadette muttered.

She and Joan were sitting in the car outside their shabby house in the far outskirts of London. The building cast an eerie black shadow across the unkempt lawn. Behind it, the setting sun glowed blood red.

“Y-you should have told me, mama.” Joan said, voice shaking.

Bernadette clenched her jaw for a long moment, then roughly unbuckled her seat belt, threw open the car door, and stormed inside. Joan was left alone in the car, sniffling, trying to hold back tears.

“Maggot Meutas! Maggot Meutas!!”

Her mother had moved them all the way out to the sticks of England in hopes they could get far away from all the sinners and unholy leaches, but she didn’t seem to do a good job because there was a little neighbor boy on the other side of Joan’s window, shrilling like a bat out of hell.

“Maggot Meutas! Maggot Meutas!” He changed again, then pressed his nose against the glass and made what he thought was a good impression of a maggot’s face.

Joan clenched her fists with a pathetic whimper. Her blood was starting to boil.

The boy cackled loudly, twisted his bike around to drive off to celebrate his success of tormenting the city’s local freak, but didn’t get very far. Because Joan twitched and, suddenly, the kid is toppling over very ungracefully into a heap in the grass. He looked up at Joan, just as startled as she was, then scrambled to get his bike back up and rode off screaming.

Joan stayed very still for a long time, staring at her hands. Then, she’s wiggling out of her seat and walking slowly into her house, unable to ignore the confrontation with her mother any longer.

Bernadette was sitting in the kitchen with her back to Joan, rereading the Bible for what was probably the hundredth time and smoking a cigarette. The overhead lights were dim, but Joan could still see bloodstains on her mother’s green sleeves. She whimpered softly, but quickly bit her tongue when she glanced fearfully up at the large crucifix hanging above the dinner table. It was usually used to discipline her for her perceived infractions, and, because of that, always made her nervous whenever she stepped anywhere near it.

“Mama,” She spoke up softly, stepping warily into the kitchen doorway. “Y-you said y-you’d stop cutting yourself...”

She knew, deep down, that that promise was nothing but a hollow lie, but she liked to comfort herself with the thought that her mother would get rid of her self destructive habits and they could be a happy, normal family like she always wanted them to be.

“And God made Eve from the rib of Adam,” Bernadette recited instead of replying. Her voice was hollow and drained. “And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world. And the raven was called sin.” She creaked around slowly in her chair to stare at her daughter. “Say it.”

“Wh-why didn’t you tell me, mama?” Joan asked quietly.

“Say it.” Bernadette merely said again, rising to her feet.

“And the raven was called sin,” Joan said and the words were horribly sour on her tongue. She shook her head. “Why didn’t you just— why didn’t you tell me, mama?” She tangled her fingers in her cross necklace like she always did when she was nervous. The cold metal lacing bit into the back of her neck when she tugged on it. “Mama, mama, please. It hurts, mama. It hurts, it hurts!”

Bernadette is unfazed by her daughter’s desperate pleading. “And the first sin was intercourse.”

“I’m not Eve, mama!” Joan wheedled. “I-I didn’t sin!”

“You were showering with other women.” Bernadette said exasperatedly. She looked sick when she spoke that sentence. “You were having lustful thoughts.”

“N-no, no, mama!” Joan stammered, eyes widening in fear. “I-I wasn’t, mama! I promise!”

“You were having lustful thoughts about women.” Bernadette oozed scathingly.

“No! No!” Joan shook her head. “E-everyone has to shower! I-I was j-just cleaning myself up because I was sweaty after rehearsals!”

“So it’s this blasted play that’s doing this to you,” Bernadette mused, not even hearing her daughter. “It was a mistake. I thought putting you into homeschooling would give you more time to focus on your prayers. And you had been doing so good that your reward was to be in this damned show, but clearly you don’t deserve that.”

“No!!” Joan cried. “No, mama, please let me stay! Please! I-I promise that I’ve been a good girl! I do my schoolwork during any free time I have and I always pray! Always! I promise!”

Even if it earned her awful ridicule and teasing.

“But you sinned.” Bernadette seethed. Her voice remained dry and hollow, sending several chills down Joan’s spine.

“I didn’t!” Joan said. “I-I’ve never sinned! Never ever! N-not at school, not at home, no at the theater! S-so please don’t take me out, mama, I love to play mu—”

Joan was cut off when her mother hit her across the head with the Bible. Her frail, lightweight body instantly crumpled under the force of the heavy book and she toppled to the ground with a cry of shock and pain.

“And the first sin was intercourse.” Bernadette said blankly, gazing down at the shuddering figure of her young daughter.

“I didn’t sin, mama!” Joan just said again, hoping she would eventually get through to her mother.

“Say it.” Bernadette said. “The first sin was intercourse.”

Joan stammered, choking on her words.

“The first sin was intercourse. The first sin was intercourse. The first sin was intercourse.”

“Mama-“

“The first sin was intercourse.”

“The first sin was intercourse!” Joan sobbed, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “Mama, I was so scared! I-I thought I was dying! A-and e-everyone was laughing and th-throwing things at me—”

“And Eve was weak.” Bernadette said. “Say it.”

“No!!”

“Eve was weak. Eve was weak. Eve was weak. Say it! Eve was weak. Eve was weak.” Bernadette chanted over and over again.

Joan covered her ears, pulled her knees tightly to her chest, and wailed, “Eve was weak! Eve was weak!”

“And the Lord visited Eve with a curse,” Bernadette whispered. “And the curse was a curse of blood!”

“You should have told me, mama,” Joan wept. “You should have told me!”

Bernadette suddenly dropped to her knees in front of Joan, making her flinch away. She ripped Joan’s hands from where they’re over her ears and held them tightly in her own.

“Oh, Lord!” Bernadette howled, shaking Joan. “Help this sinning girl see the sin of her days and ways! Show her that if she had remained sinless, the curse of blood would have never come on her!”

“No, mama,” Joan whined weakly, wriggling in her mother’s grasp.

“She may have been tempted by the anti-Christ, she may have committed the sin of lustful thoughts—”

“M-Miss Aragon s-said it h-happens to every girl!” Joan said. “Th-that they all get it a-and it’s normal!”

“No, no,” Bernadette shook her head. She held tighter to Joan’s hands, digging her long fingernails into sensitive flesh and causing her daughter to sob in pain. “Don’t you lie to me, Johanna. Don’t you know already that I can see inside of you? I can see the sin within you.”

“P-please stop, mama, you’re hurting me,” Joan whimpered.

“You need to pray.” Bernadette suddenly said and Joan’s teary eyes shot open wide. “Come. Get in your closet.”

“No! No!!” Joan struggled against her mother as she was forcefully dragged across the floor to a small storage room underneath the staircase. She kicked and screamed, but it did little to free her as she was thrown into the cramped space like a worthless sack of potatoes. She tried to get up and run out, but the door was slammed in her face and promptly locked.

Banging on the door and screaming was fruitless. Joan gave up after a few minutes and curled up in one of the corners of the room, staring fearfully at the dozens of photos of Jesus’s death around her. The statue of him on a cross was by far the worst, though.

Pain seized her lower stomach and she whimpered. It felt like a demon was trying to claw its way out of her belly.

Joan curled up tighter, rocked herself back and forth slowly, and cried.

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hopefuljoon · 4 years

Text

BST: Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than most because it’s so important to me. Other than that, I plan on making it longer in the next chapter to make it up to you.

(Spacing is wack, this is what I have in mind for the back part of the house)

Credit goes to the respective owner of this image Miami MLS

"You do realize...you don't have to do this, right babe?" Hoseok whispered out against your ear. You shivered and turned slowly around in his arms as he adjusted his hold on you again. The sight from afar made it looked so awfully domestic, it'd melt even the coldest heart.

"I know but it's the least I could do" you rasped out against his chest before turning around, getting back to work on putting the mixture onto the warming pan.

Even as you move about pouring the pancake mixture onto the warming pan, Hoseok's hands continue to linger on your hips. Ten minutes had passed and before long, you heard soft snoring sound coming from behind you, including the sudden extra weight on your back. He had fallen asleep while nuzzling into your body in the early hours. He must have been out late, doing errands for Yoongi, again. You sigh knowingly but quickly finished whipping up a batch of pancake, respectively placing equal amounts on 7 plates that you had set out earlier. You turned off the electric stove and cautiously turned in Hoseok's arm, in fear of waking up the sunshine. You place your arms around him to hold him upright, at that moment, you notice a pair of gleaming brown eyes mirroring yours.

It was Jungkook, in all his morning glory of ruffled hair and wrinkled sleepwear. He must have had a restful sleep but he deserves it, you mused. Mafia work often leads to a sudden rush of adrenaline, making the person excited and yet when it decreases to normal, they are left tired.

"Want some help with that?" he eyed Hoseok in your arms then returned his gaze to you, eyes sparkling with amusement. You smiled at him and whispered, please, loud enough for him to hear but not wake up Hoseok. Jungkook nodded and walked up to you, gently removing Hoseok from you. Thank you Kookie, you murmur and smile at him. He returned it and began to walk towards the marble staircase in order to ascend to Hoseok's room.

You circle around the counter to set down each member's plates. The table had been set earlier by the housemaids while you were cooking. You did one last round to serve your brother, at the head of the table, his plate before bending down to hug him. He blushes and stutters out a "hey!...not in front of them..." in your arm as the room roars with the sound of giggles from his fellow consigliere. Their eyes filled with adoration and love for their leader. Eventually, you deemed the hug was long enough to show your love, gratitude for the countless times he protected and stay with you throughout the night full of recurring bad dreams, and a little bit of teasing. After all, Yoongi had to keep up an image of the fearless, powerful, and ruthless mafia leader but within the safe confinement of your arms and the house, he could show you and his inner members the sides of which he must lock away deep within himself. Otherwise, if he ever let those softer and weaker sides of him show in public, his family (mainly you as all your family members had been either killed or assassinated), consigliere and everything he had and obtained will be jeopardized. He won't risk it, not even for the biscuit because you are the last remaining treasure that he has.

10 Years Prior

Growing up, you were spoiled rotten with girly princess dresses, diamond tiaras, and lived in a mansion by the oceanside. Your family, which consisted of your mother and father, adored and loved you. You were the center of jealousy for every girl in school and in town. For that reason, your parents often never let you out of the house or play with other children of your age. They deemed that the housemaids and butler were to be your playmates and that the house would be your playground.

Even so, you don't often get the chance to wander around your own house. You were either hustled to the study room or the grand library built within the house to study. Your parents had hired private tutors in order for you to excel in school without them having to worry. Turns out, you don't disappoint. You often had a knack for having the ability to memorize a large sum of information in a short time frame too. You also outperformed quick maths calculations faster than any other students in your year.

You had just finished your study earlier than scheduled so your tutor left you in the care of the housemaids who you've come to love. It's nearly lunchtime so they were going to go prepare and serve the food soon. You finally have the free time to yourself to run around and explore your own home.

30 minutes into the exploration, you stumble down into the basement of the house which was guarded by a large metal door. There were strange button pads with numbers on the right side of the door. It looked super soft and squishy so you decided to jam on random numbers, it wouldn't hurt, right? After 3-4 random jamming of numbers for 13 digits, the sound of the alarm began to blare. You quickly covered your ears, closed your eyes and hunched into a ball in fear. Praying to whatever god that was listening that it would stop and you wouldn't get caught and not get in trouble. Suddenly, you felt as if you were floating and the alarm sound ceased. You opened your eyes to see your mother standing by the security padlock before grabbing onto you to drag you to your feet. She was furious, the fire blazing in her eyes told you so. "I told you...to NEVER come down here. You could be in danger! Why won't you just LISTEN to me?" She spat.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...I finished my studies early so I decided to explore the house and got lost.." you answered casting your eyes to the ground while digging your hands into your dress pocket and fidget nervously. Your mother must have picked up on your fear and began to soften her voice. "It's fine...I will forgive you this time. Don't make the same mistake again...". At that time, your mother had felt pity for her own daughter getting lost in her own home. The mansion so large a size but the loneliness remains. After all, you had no siblings of your own. It was something that you often think about at school seeing other children act with their sisters or brothers.

You woke up one Saturday morning at 4:30 AM by a soft knock with your mother entering your room but your father smiled and lingered by the door. "Good morning little one, how was your sleep? Mommy and Daddy will have to go out to do business today. Will you be good and stay inside the house today, sweets?" she asked while walking over to your bed and lightly kissed your temple. "Yes, I'll see you soon when you return, mom", you replied, smiling while looking up at your beloved mother. "Then it's time we get going my dear,'' she replied before turning and walking back to her husband's side, tears slowly brimming her eyes.

What your younger and naive self didn't know then was that it was going to be the last time you saw your parents smiling happily, being alive, and well. You never wondered even for a second, how the mansion you live in, the expenses, clothing, and jewelry were obtained through their laundered and bloodied money. Looking back, you had just figured they were Old Money. What you didn't know then and innocently assumed would come back and take its toll on your family.

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#bts #bts mafia au #bts polyamory #bts poly au #bts smut #bts fluff #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

39 notes · View notes

sserpente · 5 years

Text

Never lost.

Words: 2917 Warnings: betrayal (see what I did there)

A/N: Surprise! Yes, I did it. In celebration of the last show on Broadway (which surely was as amazing as all the previous ones), I did it--and there is a high chance it won’t be the last Imagine (as long as I don’t get any legal problems for posting Harold Pinter fanfiction in which case I will be taking this down again I’m afraid). This is definitely different from my usual Imagines but it just felt right to build it this way. I really enjoyed writing this, the idea had been ghosting around in my head for months now. I really don’t know if it’s any good but in any case, the you-perspective gives a more intimate and different perspective on Robert’s character, I think. I guess to go in depth properly, I could write an actual play so I hope the dynamic and tension I thought up for this comes across. I haven’t written as many screenplays/scripts as I’ve written stories but without further ado... have fun!

ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: This Imagine is based on Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal”. I do not own the characters or any occuring elements from the orignal plot. This Imagine is a piece of fan work and was published on this blog solely for non-commercial purposes.

He hadn’t changed. Robert had always been a handsome man and he knew that—in his very own way he did. Your friends hated him. Everything they knew about him was what you had told him. A publisher in his early forties, a father of two children. They told you he was a snob. They even told you he was a little sexist, old-fashioned in terms of marriage and gender order. They had heard he hit his wife. You should have never told them about him. But in the end, it did not change your feelings for him, never. Not after all these years. Well, four. Four years since you had last seen each other. You had decided to move away from London for a while, to meet other men. To get over him, a married man whom you could never have.

Who were you kidding? Emma was cheating on him, she had been for years. You didn’t just think that. You knew it. But Robert hadn’t believed you. Why would he? He was madly in love with Emma. She was funny, she was lively, she was beautiful. Maybe you were too. But in the end, he had chosen her, not you.

So why were you here now, back in London? Why had you picked up your bloody phone and dialled Robert’s number? Had you wanted to prove to yourself that you were over him? That you had moved on and that the handful of men you had slept with over the last four years—brief affairs, nothing serious—had helped you forget about him?

You felt your heart almost leaping right out of your chest when you spotted him. It used to be your favourite pub. Back when you had regularly met, before he got married. Back when he had established himself as a professional publisher along with Jerry and you were a thriving editor and translator in the literature industry. You remembered that in this very pub, at this bar… he had broken your heart into tiny little pieces without even knowing. He had asked you how he should propose to Emma. In fact, you had always thought he would ask for your hand in marriage, sooner or later. You had thought that Emma would end up with Jerry, Robert’s best friend. They had known each other for years. But there was Judith; and Robert claimed he had only introduced him to her when they got married. Perhaps this was just Robert’s wicked way to cope with her betrayal. You were not going to judge. You carried your own bottled up disappointment, fear and rejection.

Robert’s glance was intimidating, daring anyone to question him or his presence in this pub as he ordered two pints. He hadn’t changed. He had told you on the phone. Of his long conversation with Emma, their decision to break up after so many years of marriage. Of her affair with his best friend. She used to be your friend too, before you moved away. Out of a person you longed to despise because she stole a heart meant to fill the empty space in yours became a person you admired for her strength and doggedness. And then she had started seeing Jerry.

Emma had called you the night before you arrived in London. She knew you wanted to meet him. She knew you didn’t know it was over. She had cried about the children and you had hung up.

Robert’s face lit up barely noticeably when he spotted you. It was like spotting an old and beautiful friend. He was scanning you, to see if you had physically changed. You hadn’t. Your perky breasts were the same, as was your face, your height and your weight—except for the bags under your eyes. Exhaustion, lack of sleep, stress, lovesickness. It all tore you apart, one way or another.

“Robert.”

You had missed speaking his name. So much your heart leaped at your mouth forming the sounds. He nodded.

“It’s been a while.”

“A long while.”

Your hug was sincere but a little stiff at first. Again, he nodded, weaker this time.

“Drink?”

“Thank you.”

Was it ironic? You were here, enjoying a drink with an old friend you had once loved—or perhaps still loved if only you were to admit it to yourself—all the while Jerry and Emma were doing the very same.

“How have you been, Robert?”

“Well, you’ve heard.”

“I have. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what exactly?”

“You know what.”

“Are you really then?”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

Silence spread between you as you bit your tongue. You were not sorry. If anything, you were glad his marriage was finally over. You shouldn’t be. But the selfish part of you bathed in his desperation. Maybe it was the only reason he had agreed to meet you again.

“She told me on the phone you betrayed her for years.”

“Did she?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

You repeated, confirming his words. He had not. You would have known if he had. What your friends thought about him might have rung true to some extent but he never would have cheated on Emma.

Robert looked up, his expression somewhat startled, vulnerable even. Hurt. In fact, you had never seen him as broken as today, almost as if all the pain bubbling right below the surface had now finally broken through a badly healed wound, erupting like a volcano of annihilating emotions. He had thought four years a long time but were they really?

“Of course… not. Look, I might not be the perfect husband. I’ve made mistakes, we all have. But I love her. Or I loved her. Whatever the hell that means.”

“So why did you say it?”

“What?”

“Why did you tell her that you betrayed her for years?”

“Out of… hurt, I suppose. Desperation. I wanted her to suffer as badly as I did. I wanted her to feel the same pain I felt. I don’t know what that says about me, really.”

You paused. It said a lot of things, actually. It said how all that bottled up rage inside him had found a hole to escape through. It said how human he was. It said how your heart had made the right decision to fall for him all these years ago.

Robert had raised his voice and stood from his chair, the pint, half empty, abandoned on the table. With an almost threatening stance, he towered above you. You, of all people, had to understand.

Once more, silence spread between you, tying wires of both anxious and exciting tension between you. For several, torturing seconds, you simple stared each other down, neither willing to blink first until you couldn’t take it anymore and drew your intimidated gaze away from him, facing the ground.

“Did you know who it was?”

He suddenly said. You frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know who Emma was having an affair with?”

“You’ve known for years.”

“I know but have you known?”

“No. Not at first. I never investigated, you see.”

You spoke the truth. You truly never did. You cared about Robert—not his wife Emma—in the end.

“Then how did you know in the first place?”

“I’m a woman, Robert. I could tell. I could tell by her behaviour.”

And you had told him. That something was not right. That something was off. You paused, hoping he would say what you were too cowardice for. He said it.

“And I never believed you, did I?”

“No. You didn’t.”

Another moment of silence, buzzing between you like electricity—like a broken cable emitting sparks next to a puddle—deadly.

Have you been busy lately?”

Robert hadn’t offered you any coffee, he knew you didn’t drink the black brew. You sat there at the kitchen table with your glass of water while he was pacing up and down the room slowly—threateningly, as if he were to pounce on innocent and unknowing prey like a lion.

He had changed lately. There was a slight bitterness to your conversations with him.

“Well… Jerry has been trying to convince me to publish Spinks.”

“That writer you didn’t like?”

“His books are terrible.”

“No doubt… we’ve always had the same taste when it comes to books.”

“Hmm…”

He paused.

“It’s great to see you again.”

“You too.”

Finally, he sat down with you, smiling. He meant it. You had always been close, simply never voiced it. The thing was… you always listened to each other’s problems. Circumstances like that, they… created a bond. And Robert had always liked the way you made him feel when you were around—that warm, cosy and tingly feeling spreading in his chest.

“Where’s Emma?”

He took a deep breath, looking in your eyes as he spoke. He liked looking at you. You were rather beautiful, after all. Like one of those paintings Emma displayed in the gallery.

“Playground, with the children.”

“I haven’t seen them in a while. They must have grown so much.”

“They have.”

“And Emma and you, how have you been?”

“Fine! As fine as marriage can be, I suppose.”

Biting your lower lip, you took a sip from your water. It wasn’t too cold, just how you liked it.

“Will she be back soon?”

“She should be in an hour or so.”

You nodded.

“I… wanted to talk to you about something.”

Because I thought it would only be fair for you to know… I think, you added silently.

Robert frowned.

“Speak.”

You had started shaking. Your digits were trembling as they held the glass tightly. You could not do this. You had to do this. You were holding on to a cliff. One hand was holding Robert’s, the other was clutching the edge. No matter whom or what you would let go off, you could not win. Were you a decent human being, for doing this?

“I… I believe that she’s cheating on you.”

“Who?”

“Emma.”

“What?”

“She’s cheating on you.”

“No.”

“S-she is.”

He glared at you, anger flashing in his blue eyes as he leaned forward like a predator, like he was going to attack you; verbally, if anything.

“Have you gone mad?”

“No.”

Treacherous tears formed in your eyes. They worsened your sight, transforming Robert into a black dot before you.

“Robert.”

He said nothing.

“Robert, have you been spending a lot of time with her lately?”

“She’s busy.”

“With what?”

“The gallery.”

“What about Thursdays?”

“What?”

“Thursdays. The gallery’s afternoon off.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“You have gone mad.”

“Robert… read the signs.”

“We have children.”

You couldn’t suppress your snort.

“That didn’t stop her.”

Angrily, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, full of disgust and hatred. Your heart broke.

“Get out.”

“Robert!”

“Get out of my house!”

You remembered it well. It was a chilly autumn day, the Piccadilly line on strike and that homeless guy on the tube wearing only one shoe. It was the last time you spoke before you left London for good. While part of you wished you could have said goodbye differently, the other part knew it had been the right thing to do. It had to have been the right thing to do. Even if you had partially done it for selfish reasons.

Robert was naïve, probably. An affair, right under his nose. His marriage at stake, his family life in danger. Yes, Robert sent you away that night. But it was because he refused to accept the two truths his heart had long welcomed. That letter he read only shortly after proved you had never had the intention to lie to him, or to harm his marriage. One, Emma was betraying him. Two, he was in love with you, too.

You desperately gasped for air. The memory was as painful as your longing for this man before you. Who were you going to fool? You still loved him. He knew. He must have known, always. And he never said anything. Why would he? There was no need to risk anything. Not your friendship, not his relationship with Emma.

Robert gnashed his teeth. His fists were clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, the beer he had ordered tasted repulsive. The people around him bothered him, he longed to scream at the barkeeper for no reason at all. For this was where he had sat with Jerry two days after your departure. No goodbyes, no farewells, no well wishes. He regretted he had never contacted you to make up for it. Come to think of it, he regretted letting you go in the first place.

“Do you know what she said?”

“What?”

“She said that Emma is cheating on me.”

“What? No.”

“I know.”

Did he though?

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean, why would she say that Emma is cheating on you? She must have had a reason. A false suspicion, maybe.”

“I don’t know, actually.”

“Don’t you?”

“Well, I suppose I do.”

“So why?”

“She has always been in love with me, hasn’t she?”

Jerry’s eyes widened, his body stiffening in surprise.

“Who? Emma or (Y/N)?”

Robert paused. When he said nothing more, he took a deep breath.

“Both of them, Jerry.”

Robert blinked.

“I missed you.”

You admitted timidly.

“I know.”

He paused briefly.

“I missed you too.”

“You should go home to your wife.”

“I don’t think I still have a wife.”

He retorted sharply, rubbing his beard absentmindedly. It was gesture which you had always found incredibly sexy. You doubted Emma shared your thoughts.

You were sitting next to each other on the sofa in your hotel room after coming to the decision to leave the pub for good, staring holes into the wall. Robert appreciated your presence, as you did his and yet… neither of you was sure how to behave around the other. The tension was tangible, his knee touching yours ever so slightly.

You couldn’t remember how you ended up on his lap, couldn’t remember how he had started kissing you with such ferocity you ran out of breath within a mere heartbeat. Burying your fingers in his hair, you rocked against him, drinking him in as if you feared to die from thirst if you didn’t.

He had been kidding himself, even mocked you in front of Jerry to stroke his ego for harbouring feelings for him when in truth, it had taken him years to realise why his heart beat faster around you. Why he longed to pull you in his arms and inhale your heavenly scent.

He had stopped feeling this way with Emma even before he learned about the affair, so he came to understand. The sex didn’t feel the same despite his love for his wife. Perhaps he had always known about her disloyalty—perhaps he had known without knowing.

His warm hands sneaked under your thin pullover, exploring your skin with relish. They wandered up almost demandingly when you intensified the kiss, right until he was able to cup your breasts through your bra, eliciting a silent whimper from you.

By the time he pulled away, both of you were out of breath, the quiet hotel room filled with nothing but your panting for a while.

“What are we doing here?”

A few seconds passed before Robert responded.

“Something I should have done with you a long time ago.”

There was no hesitation in his voice—only determination. Perhaps it was only now, in this very moment, that the gravity of last night’s events hit him to the fullest. That his marriage was over. That those feelings he had always had for you were no longer wrong. If you still wanted him. You had kissed him back with a passion but what significance did this hold? He had watched his own wife… ex-wife… having an affair with his best friend for four years, after all.

“Are you seeing someone?”

He had to know. If he dreaded the answer then he would be even more desperate to know. Did it really matter now? Relationships didn’t work this way. So much had been at stake, for such a long time. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, granting him a fresh start. Perhaps with you, he would even give love a second chance. Perhaps those feelings pounding in his heart when you were with him were more than mere sexual lust and a desire for revenge. He might have been in love but he was also unsure; a bit insecure even.

“I’m not. I had affairs. Brief sexual encounters. But I never saw anyone.”

If he told Emma now, he wouldn’t be lying. He had a woman now. A beautiful woman who was sitting on his lap in this very moment. With you, he didn’t feel like he had to talk. You knew what he was thinking. Maybe you had always known—even back when he had kicked you out of his house.

“I’m sorry.”

He felt the urge to say it, knowing you’d know what he meant. You cupped his face in response, your thumbs brushing over his beard; and the weakest of smiles forming on your lips.

“So what do we do now?”

Robert went silent, said nothing for a while. When he looked back up, his blue eyes were glistening with bold conviction as they locked with yours.

“We continue where we left off when we first met.”

A/N: More? Maybe? I’ve got another Imagine swimming in my pond of ideas...

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente

#betrayal #betrayal imagine #robert #robert imagine #robert x you #robert x reader #robert betrayal #robert betrayal imagine #robert betrayal x you #robert betrayal x reader #harold pinter #tom hiddleston #zawe ashton #charlie cox #emma #charlie #emma betrayal #charlie betrayal

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piracytheorist · 5 years

Text

Still With Hope

Summary: After a particularly nasty nightmare, Killian tries to distract himself by spending time with Hope.

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares and one of our pirate’s unpleasant memories (keeping it in canon territory, though)

Shout-out to @jollysailorswan and @hollyethecurious for their quick assistance!

Word count: 2k AO3

There's the slightest sight of grey on the horizon when his eyes snap open.

His hand instinctively wraps around Emma's arm, which is still warm from resting under the blanket. She must have felt him shift around and wrapped herself around him.

He sighs, feeling a soft twinge in his heart. Even in deep sleep, she can feel his unrest and does her best to comfort him. It's the very thing that keeps him in bed, wanting to be there for her in case she has a nightmare herself, even though he itches to get up, walk around, do anything to distract himself from the thoughts and memories brought up by the nightmare.

His one-eyed vision blurs from the pain but he still keeps his eye open as Hades paces around him.

"I still see hope in your eyes... I would like that to be gone before you reach the water."

He keeps his eyes on the window, focusing on the far-off view of the sea. He doesn't want to allow his mind to wander there... to connect the words of a years-old taunting with his daughter, but with nothing else to occupy his mind it is not an easy task.

As if on cue, he hears the sounds of Hope waking up. A vague, long "Aaahh" that will soon turn to screaming if he's not there in a few seconds. Swallowing his apprehension for Emma having a nightmare - she won't have one anyway if Hope's screams wake her up - he unwraps her from around him and stands up, rushing to his daughter's room.

Her upset face blooms into a wide smile as soon as she spots him. Little rascal, he thinks and leans over her crib.

"Did we sleep well, love?"

She blurts out a sound and sits up, raising her arms in an ‘Up!' motion. He picks her up and without thinking, he embraces her tightly, forgetting how active she is as soon as she wakes up. She grunts in protest, now wiggling against him in a 'Down!' motion.

"It'll be a bit before you can walk down the stairs. Breakfast?"

As she drinks her morning milk, he puts her favourite fruits and some bran flakes into the blender, throwing glances behind him and reminding himself, every time, that it's Saturday and Curtis and Lenore will surely sleep in today. As will Emma, probably. They may not share blood, but their sleeping schedules sure do fit perfectly.

He only realizes how soon it still is when Hope is done with breakfast and the sun has just begun to rise. She'll want to play, and she's loud...

Within minutes, he's prepared both her and himself for a walk to the playground by the beach. She can play and be as loud as she wants, and he can walk out, breathe fresh air and let the sight of the sea calm him.

The playground is empty - not surprising so early in the morning. The single swing designed for babies is free, and Hope gets exclusive use of it. Her giggling as Killian swings her back and forth helps take his mind off the haunting sounds of his nightmare.

His Hope is not gone. She'll never be gone. She'll grow happy and loved and surrounded by family and friends, and even when she's old enough to take her own course in life, she'll always have a place in his heart and his thoughts.

As will his nightmares.

He swallows hard, barely holding in a desperate sound at the thought. Sometimes he still wonders if he's truly made peace with the fact that he will deal with what he went through for a long time in the future. Nightmares will keep coming - but so will the challenges of being a father of three. He's cut off alcohol for good, and a morning walk to the playground with his daughter is a much healthier escape, but how long can he deny to himself that this is exactly what it is? An escape?

He gasps in surprise when the intro of Killing in the Name blasts from his phone, holding back the curse before it leaves his mouth in Hope's presence. He's gotta change that blasted ringtone, as much as he likes the song it's not the first time it scares him when it rings.

"Swan?"

"Where are you?"

"At the playground."

He hears her sigh. "Is Hope with you?"

"Aye. You were worried?"

"Killian, we live in Storybrooke. We're some of the first people the Monster of the Week would target. I woke up and my husband and baby daughter were gone, his side of the bed unmade, not a note in sight. Of course I was worried!"

"I'm sorry, love. We were both up and she wanted to play, and she would've woken you up..."

"You didn't make the bed, you didn't leave a note..." He hears her take a deep breath then let it out in a sigh. "Never mind. It's alright."

"Emma, love-"

"It's okay. I was just worried, it's okay now."

Bloody perfect.

Too tired to resolve the issue through the phone, he opts for a "See you at home."

"Okay. Good morning too. Love you."

"Love you too."

Hope is blowing raspberries when he hangs up and steps to the front of the swing.

"Come on, love. Mama's awake and can't wait to play with you."

Mentioning her mother or siblings is the only way to get her on the way back home without her protesting, he's found. Indeed, the walk back is calm, only interrupted by Hope's blabbering.

Emma's by the door as soon as he closes the fence gate, smiling broadly at them.

"Hey, baby," she says as she picks Hope up from the stroller. "Papa took you to the playground? You had fun?" Emma's face falls a bit, though, as she turns to him. "You alright?"

"Is it that obvious?" he says softly, dropping his head. "The kids?"

"Still sleeping. I'd give Curtis a bit longer too. Comics are more important than breakfast these days."

He follows her inside and to the living room, where she puts Hope down at her very own toy-filled corner. Seeing Emma like that, face glowing despite having woken up just a while ago... he could watch her forever. At least she could have that. She has her own nightmares, but spending time with her kids is nothing close to an "escape" to her.

"You’re gonna tell me what's wrong or you’re gonna stand there and be mysterious?" she says.

"I'm sorry I didn't leave a note."

"That's all?" She doesn't seem convinced. "I told you, it's alright. I had just woken up and my mind went nuts. You were in a hurry to leave?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms. "She was up, wanting to move around and play. I figured she would make too much noise and wake everyone up here."

She looks down at Hope. "Did you want to get out?"

Her tone is serious; she's read him already.

Sighing, he sits down next to them, facing Emma. "Nightmare. Pretty nasty this time, thought some air would do me good."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. "Hades. It wasn't just the nightmare, it was what it reminded me of." He sighs again. "Emma, I needed to do something so much, to distract myself with something..."

"You took Hope out on a walk. The weather's great, she had her fun."

"I can't be using our children as an escape."

"You're not... 'using' them."

"But it's not about them. Every time I take Curtis on the Jolly Roger I think of the sea and how it calms me. When I took Lenore stargazing I thought of old memories of Liam teaching me about them. And today, it was about doing anything to not think of Hades, I didn't even think long enough to leave you a note. You were right, we are high on the list of potential victims by new villains."

"Well, we haven't had any in some time, don't you think?"

He doesn't respond. What could he say to that?

She takes his hand in hers. "I don't think your ship will ever stop reminding you of what the sea means to you. You've been on it longer than you've been with us, with me. Or the stars, or anything that means a lot to you. It doesn't mean you should feel bad for sharing those things with the kids."

"I shouldn't be the priority. It should be about them."

"Killian... we can't just abandon ourselves just because we have kids to look after. It's more of the opposite. You know, Archie talks to me a lot about how children can see when we have issues. Curtis sees it. Lenore may be a bit closed off still, but I guarantee you she'll see it too. If we hold back on our own healing it would impact them too."

He nods.

"But I'm not gonna play shrink here,” she adds. “Do you remember something you told me, when we were looking to adopt Curtis?"

It strikes him suddenly; Emma couldn't sleep and she started crying, fearing how she only wanted to adopt to heal her own wound of never getting adopted.

"They'll know how strong we are."

"We are facing it. What hurt us, what we missed... and we do that with our family. You think it's an escape - but you're there for your kids. You're teaching them that it's with each other we can face it. And they'll know, when they grow up and get it, they'll know how much strength that took, and that we were with them, not despite our pain, but through it. It will inspire them." She leans in a bit further, leaning her forehead on his. "It's okay for them to know that even their parents are not perfect."

He closes his eyes, going back to his own words to her. This is a discussion they’ve had before many times, with both of them having been on the worrying side at least once. He knows healing is a process, and discussions like these will keep happening. But they are discussing it, and he chooses to see the positive part of it.

"We've already made a lot of progress. And I know you don't want to think about it, but maybe their lives won't be perfect either.'

He squeezes her hand back; that's not a welcoming thought indeed.

"But with our example they'll know they can count on family... they'll know that's what family is for. That they don't need to face anything alone."

He swallows a sob. He would have welcomed having that way of thinking so many times in his lonely centuries. Emma wraps him in a hug, burying her fingers in his hair.

He was one who, as a child, thought of his father as a perfect man. He should know not to let his own children be blinded by the love they have for him.

This time he can't hold the sob back. Love. Curtis may not have told it yet, and Lenore doesn't tell them much anyway, and Hope is still too young... but he knows it, deep in his heart, that they all do love him. Despite-

No. It's all of him. His happy and his pained self. He's no lesser because of either or both.

"Mama. Papa."

They break the hug, only slightly, to let their youngest one in on the side.

"See?" Emma whispers. "She wants to be part of it. They all do." She kisses his cheek, then Hope's wild, red hair. "The least we can do is let them know we'd do the same for them."

Closing his eyes, he leaves a kiss on Emma's hair, holding them both tight.

It may take a bit; but he'll know it, one day, that he can't pretend to be perfect for their children. But being there for them, and making sure they know he is, that he can. And he will.

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #piracytheorist writes

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realfantasticalchaos · 5 years

Text

The Timeline They Were Almost Friends

Words: 1,960

“You shouldn’t be pulling up the grass like that.”

Ted looked up to see Penny, the biggest snitch in school, standing over him. Normally he spent recess with his twin brother Felix, but today Felix was working overtime to impress one of the new kids. Cindy, or so Ted thought was her name. The two were over by the trampoline, which was free since Carla had study hall. Left to his own devices, Ted sat on the ground and began messing with the grass. It should have crossed his mind that the principle’s daughter would catch him vandalizing the playground.

“Sorry,” he muttered, unable to look Penny in the eye as he balled his hands into fists and placed them on his lap.

Then Penny surprised him by kneeling down and pulling up the grass herself. “Never mind,” she muttered, also not looking him in the eye. “This does make me feel a bit better.”

Now that she said it, Ted took a better look at her. Penny seemed . . . Not exactly sad. More like lonely. Well, that made two of them.

“Want to sit with me?” Ted offered, thinking it wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, so he didn’t have to worry about Penny getting him into trouble. Besides, now that he was talking to her, he didn’t want to stop.

Blinking, Penny asked, “Do you mean it?” She said it carefully, as if she didn’t believe he really meant it.

“Yeah,” Ted answered. “You’re not the only one spending recess alone.”

“I did notice Felix has been spending a lot of time with that new girl since lunch,” Penny said, sitting a mere foot away from Ted. She sighed. “I was hoping to make friends with at least one of the new kids, but it seems word about me travels fast.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be a snitch,” Ted suggested, playing with the grass blades he already pulled.

“I don’t want to be,” Penny replied, legs pulled in and crossed at the ankles.

“Then why are you one?”

“I . . . I don’t know? I don’t try to be. I just am, I guess.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Sometimes Ted would look to Felix and Cindy, sometimes he would study the grass he had plucked up, and sometimes he would look to Penny. Whenever he saw her, she had a faraway look in her eyes as if she wasn’t really seeing at anything at all.

“Ted, right?” she suddenly muttered. When Ted requested she repeat herself, Penny said, “Your name is Ted, right? I know Felix because we’re in the same class, but I don’t see much of you unless you’re by Felix’s side.”

“Yeah, I’m Ted.” He felt his face getting hot. For some reason, he was happy she knew his name.

When Penny smiled, Ted felt his ears and neck get hot as well. “Nice to meet you, Ted.”

“Nice to meet you too, Penny.” Wanting to keep the conversation going, Ted tried, “What do you normally do during recess?”

Penny shrugged. “Stand around, mostly. It’s not a lot of fun to play by yourself. You?”

It was Ted’s turn to shrug. “Whatever Felix wants to do, usually.”

“Never what you want to do?”

“No.”

“Hmm, I have an idea.” Penny jumped to her feet. “How about we play together? You can pick the game, and I won’t be alone. We’ll each get to try something new. Sounds like a great deal, if you ask me.”

It did seem like a great deal. Sure, there was risk in being seen playing with the principle’s daughter and the damage that could do to the Huxley twin’s image, but Ted didn’t think there would be too many consequences if that ended up being a problem. After all, it was a small price to pay when his other option was to spend recess all by himself. Not to mention his spending recess alone meant Penny would be doing the same. He didn’t want her to feel any more alone than she already was, especially when he found being around her enjoyable.

“What do you want to play?” Penny asked, offering her hand.

Ted took her hand and let her help him up as he answered, “Hide and seek.”

“Oh, I love that game!” Penny grinned. The fact they were about to play together had her mood jumping from melancholic to excited in the blink of an eye. “You want to hide or seek?”

“I want to hide.”

“Okay, I’ll stand over there”—Penny pointed to the spot—“and count to fifty. You have until then to hide.”

“You can count to fifty?”

“Yes, or at least I think so.” Penny pursed her lips before grinning again. “Just listen for the ‘ready or not, here I come,’ okay?”

Penny went to the place she pointed out, covered her eyes, and began to count. While she did this, Ted thought about where to hide. The swings were too obvious, and he didn’t want to risk being near the big tree in case any bees decided to sting him. Looking around, he stopped to consider the rock wall. That would be a nice spot to hide.

As he hid, he watched as Felix walked away from Cindy to talk to another new kid who just joined recess. They talked for a bit, their discussion too hushed for Ted to hear. Felix gave the kid something, and he ran off. It was just after Penny announced she was ready to find Ted that Felix approached her.

“Good day, Penny,” Felix greeted, as if it was normal for him to speak with the girl.

“Hello, Felix!” she responded, confused but still chirpy. “It is a good day, isn’t it? The sun is shining, and the—”

“Yes. Yes,” Felix interrupted. “Cut the chit chat.” Penny’s smile fell. “I heard a nasty rumor that one of those nasty new children has hidden some contraband by the big tree.”

“Oh, no!” Penny exclaimed, hand flying to her mouth. Ted heard that Penny took a knife from one of the new kids first thing that morning; he was sure worse things to be snuck into the school were running through her mind. “I’ll look for it right away!”

Then Penny ran out of sight. Brows furrowed, Ted wondered what his brother was up to. He didn’t have to wonder long before he heard Penny start screaming in pain. Before he could even react, Penny ran past him and through the gate. There were bees flying after her.

“Bloody good show!” Felix said, and Ted turned back around to see him again speaking with that new kid again. “Cindy will be quite pleased.”

“I’m happy you’re happy,” the kid replied, not appearing the least bit remorseful that he was a part of this.

At this point, Cindy walked up to the boys and told them how Penny’s cries were music to her ears. Ted listened in to all they said, feeling sick. It was bad enough nobody liked Penny, but this was too far.

Immediately after the three were done speaking, Bob the janitor came out to give flowers to the new teacher. The adults didn’t speak long before they ran inside. That new kid followed after them a few minutes later.

Seeing there was no adult to stop him and Felix was still too preoccupied with Cindy, Ted walked through the gate and towards the back door to the principle’s office. He walked up the steps and rose his hand to knock, but froze when he heard Penny’s crying on the other side. The principle was speaking, but Ted couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Being the spineless clam he was, Ted turned around and walked away. Penny did not return to recess, and he did not confront Felix about the event at gym. Still, the dreadful feeling wouldn’t go away.

After gym, Ted saw Penny going down the stairs as he was going to the locker room to change, Felix staying behind to discuss business with Carla. Swollen bee stings covered Penny’s face, and her eyes were red from crying. When she noticed Ted, she covered her face with the textbook in her hands.

“Are you okay?” Ted asked, turning away from the locker room and walking towards the girl.

Penny answered with a muffled, “Go away.”

“Does it still hurt?”

Sniffling, Penny muttered, “A little.”

“I’m really sorry.”

At this, Penny dropped the textbook enough so that her eyes peered over the edge. “Why are you sorry?” she asked. “It’s not your fault.”

Even though he knew exactly whose fault it was, Ted decided against telling her. “I’m still sorry you were hurt,” he answered instead.

“And I’m sorry I said I would find you and then didn’t,” Penny replied, textbook covering her face again.

“It’s okay,” Ted tried. “The last time Felix and I played hide and seek, I spent two hours hiding in one of the closets. I only left after that because I really had to use the bathroom.”

“He didn’t think to check the closets?”

“No, he didn’t try to find me in the first place.”

“Didn’t your parents notice you were missing?”

“Hmm, no. Or if they did, they didn’t look for me.”

“That’s . . . sad.”

It wasn’t till Penny said such that Ted realized how depressing it was to admit his own twin brother faked a game of hide and seek just to get rid of him for a while and how his parents either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Maybe we can try playing again tomorrow?” he offered.

“Yeah, maybe,” Penny replied, but she sounded doubtful.

It didn’t surprise Ted she didn’t believe him. Penny was, after all, the biggest snitch in school. Nobody ever wanted to play with her. She said so herself that she usually spent recess standing around all by herself. Somehow, Ted understood how she felt most days if not every day.

“Want to be friends?” he blurted out, not knowing what he was saying till the words fell from his mouth. His face, ears, and neck went hot all over again. Slowly, Penny lowered her textbook, revealing her swollen face and disbelieving expression. “Want to be friends?” Ted repeated, more sure of himself this time.

“You want to be friends with me?” she asked, whispering.

“Well, yes,” Ted answered. “I think you’re nice.”

A smile slowly spread across Penny’s face. She dug into her dress pocket and pulled out a bracelet. “I made this last night after I heard we would be having new kids go to school here,” she admitted, looking at the homemade jewelry. “I wanted to have a friendship bracelet ready in case one of those new kids wanted to be my friend.” The silent “None of them did,” hung in the air.

Extending her hand, Penny offered the friendship bracelet and said, “You can have it, if you want it. You don’t have to say yes.”

“No, I’ll take it.” Ted accepted the bracelet and instantly put it on his wrist. He smiled at the gift. Penny, the prettiest girl in school, gave him a friendship bracelet. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you though.”

“Don’t worry, your friendship is more than enough.”

Not knowing what to say, Ted told her, “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course you will, silly,” Penny replied. “Tomorrow is a school day.”

“Right. Um, want to hang out before the bell rings? I can show you my Monstermon collection.”

“Sure! I would like that.” Walking away, Penny waved and exclaimed, “See you tomorrow, Ted!”

Returning the wave, Ted, unable to stop smiling, replied, “See you tomorrow, Penny.”

Tuesday

(Again)

Author’s Note: I wrote this a couple months ago for fun with no plans to ever publish it. Then I decided, “Eh, why not? We need more Ted and Penny fics anyway.” Hopefully someone out there likes it!

#Kindergarten #Kindergarten 2 #Kindergarten Penny #Kindergarten Ted #Penny X Ted #Ted X Penny #Theonny #Kindergarten Fanfic

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breanime · 6 years

Text

Bloody Secrets (Part One)

So this is my first time writing a Reader-insert fic, so any feedback would be really appreciated! There’s some brief smut and vague descriptions of violence (I mean, it’s Billy), so be advised.

*gif by @banditthewriter, who was kind enough to proof read this for me*

The best thing about your terribly expensive school was the quality of their labs. You had always wanted to practice medicine, so you had been ecstatic when you’d gotten into your top choice university. Price of tuition aside—it was the perfect school for you. You especially liked the labs; working on the dummies helped you hone your craft more than any textbook could.

“Um, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You didn’t look up from the dummy you were practicing on. Maggie always had questions—in the lecture hall, in the hospital, in the lab, you were relentless. But you liked her. She was kind, and eager, and not one of the (many, many, many) Ivy League silver spoon babies. So you two became friends.

“I think your boyfriend’s here.” There was a smile on her face when you finally did look up. You followed your gaze and had to bite your lip to keep from grinning as well.

Billy Russo—head of Anvil, best friend of the Punisher, playboy ex-Marine Special Ops soldier—was standing in the doorway of the lab. Your professor was talking to him animatedly; and you could almost see his glasses fogging up in his excitement. Several lab assistants were staring at Billy hard. But, who could blame them? He was wearing one of his famous 3-piece suits, a tasteful dark gray number with a navy-blue tie. He leaned against the doorway, his long legs crossed at the ankles and his hands in his pocket. He was smiling, but when his eyes landed on you it turned into a smirk.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you turned back to Maggie immediately, “He’s… we’re friends. We’re bangbros.” Maggie made a face and you laughed, putting down your tools. “Lemme see what he wants.”

You watched Billy watch you as you approached. You were wearing a simple V-neck school shirt and jeans—nothing special. But his eyes scanned over you in a way that had your skin tingling with warmth.

“Mr. Russo,” you greeted him calmly, interrupting the professor’s nervous rant.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said back, tilting his head as he spoke, “I’m interrupting your lesson, forgive me.”

You felt the corners of my lip tug up. “It’s fine,” you were blatantly casual in front of your watching professor and classmates, “What can I do for you Mr. Russo?”

His eyes flashed, and you could guess the kind of reply he wanted to say. But instead he said, “I’m afraid I need your assistance on something,” he glanced over at your professor, “with, of course, your permission sir.”

It took no time at all for the professor to agree—he was a huge fan of Billy’s. Most of your classmates gave you awed looks as you packed up, while some shot you looks of envy. Maggie blew you a kiss as you left. The story you had told everyone, about how you first met Billy, was that the two of you had ran into each other outside of the city. You were on your way to visit your little sister and he was out training a few of the guys. Long story short: three of his guys got hurt, so you had taken it upon yourself to step in. All of that was true. What you didn’t tell them was what happened afterwards.

“You usually travel this far out of town by yourself?” He had asked you.

You were wiping your bloodstained hands on a towel he’d given you. Your hair was a mess, hastily thrown in a bun with strands falling on your sweaty face. Your coat was somewhere on the ground, but your sweater was ruined, it was dotted with blood. Billy was wearing all black, looking slim and dangerous as he surveyed you.

“It’s usually a quicker route,” you said back, “y’know, when I’m not stopping to perform street surgeries.” A glance over at his three guys, leaning on each other like tired children after a long day at the playground, made you smile. It was kind of cute. “Can I ask what all this,” you gestured to the men, “was?”

“You can,” he said breezily, “doesn’t mean I’ll answer, though.”

“Typical military,” you said back. You weren’t offended. You had heard of Billy Russo, prominent New York businessman and playboy before, so you weren’t at all naïve enough to think he was just a pretty face.

“How’d you know I was military?”

“I read magazines,” you answered, “I think it was GQ who had a whole 3-page layout on Billy Russo.”

He laughed. “So you know my name.” He took a step toward you. “But I still don’t know yours.”

“Y/N.”

“That come with a surname?”

You smirked. “Y/L/N. And to answer your first question: I was on my way to my sister’s place,” you paused and looked down at my bloody clothes, “but I think it’s better that I don’t anymore.”

“Are you sure?” He had looked genuinely concerned. “I can take you. We can get you some new clothes on the way, stop at a hotel—”

“—Mr. Russo,” you feigned shock, “just because I’m out alone at night in a dark alley covered in blood does not mean I’ll just go to a hotel with you,” you put the back of your hand to your forehead, “What kind of a girl do you think I am?”

He had laughed then. It started out as a bark of laughter before it became a full-on laugh. “My sincerest apologizes,” he said between chuckles, “I just meant, you could take a quick shower. I’d hate to mess up your plans with your sister.”

You shook my head. “Nah, it’s cool. It’s getting late, anyway, I have class in the morning,” you gestured blindly with bloody hands, “Med school,” you explained.

“Makes sense. At least let me give you a ride home,” Billy had turned to look back at his guys, “Looks like these guys won’t be dying—thanks to you.”

“Sure, thanks,” you had said. And you were off. Your jaw nearly hit your chest when you saw Billy’s Rolls Royce for the first time. Truth be told, you had been afraid to get in, because of the blood, but he just chuckled. He had taken care to buckle you in. You made sure to call your sister and tell your you had to stay home and study, which you were fine with. Billy silently wiped the last of the blood off your face and hands. He touched you with such care, it made you feel safe even though you had just seen how dangerous his lifestyle was. The two of you talked the whole ride back to your apartment, and you were almost disappointed when the car pulled up in front of your building.

“Would it be wrong to say I hope we can do this again?” You asked once he’d walked you to your door.

He had chuckled, his dark eyes sweeping over your body. In most circumstances, the appraisal would have made you balk, but you couldn’t help but like the way he surveyed you. “Maybe not in the exact same way,” he’d said, “But I’d love to see you again, Y/N.”

So, you exchanged numbers, and while you hoped he would want to come in, he’d told you that he had to get back to work, but that he’d call the first chance he got. That chance ended up being the next day, and you talked between classes. He had told you how his on-staff doctor complimented your work and even asked for your resume, which made you laugh—since you had no resume to give him. After that, you texted the next few days before he finally asked if he could take you out for dinner and drinks as a thank you for your help. So you went out.

It took hours to find the right dress—something sexy, but not too revealing—but it was time well spent, because Billy looked at you like a hungry man in front of a buffet.

“So, how often do you do this?” You had asked, gesturing with your wine glass. You elaborated when you saw the curious tilt of his head. “Take random co-eds out to dinner?”

“Not usually,” he answered smoothly, his New York accent rolling with his words, “Do you usually stop and help total strangers?” He had raised one perfect eyebrow. “Total strangers who are at risk of bleeding out?” He added.

You shrugged. Best to just tell the truth. “Only when their boss is as good looking as you.”

“You think I’m good-looking?” He had been smirking then.

You took a drink, stalling. You actually hadn’t meant to say that, but it was true… “What, you don’t own a mirror?”

He chuckled. “I own several, actually,” he had said, “By the way, you look amazing tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“You looked pretty good the other night too, if I’m honest,” he had gone on, “I mean, for a co-ed covered in blood.”

That prompted another two hours of conversation. You talked steadily through dinner and desert, and he had put his hand on the small of your back as you walked back to his car. The two of you had been talking about your school and his work when you pulled up to your apartment. Billy had gotten out and opened your door.

“This was fun,” he had said, smiling over at you with those dark eyes.

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, “It was.”

“What time do you have class tomorrow?”

You made a face. “7 am.”

“Clinicals, right?”

“Right.” You had been impressed by his memory, or rather, that he had actually listened to your ramblings about school. “Thanks for this, for dinner, it was really nice.”

He put his head down and then up again, smiling at you. “My pleasure.” He had paused then, and asked: “Can I see you again?”

You almost broke your neck nodding. “You can see me right now,” you blurted out, “if you want, I mean… You can come inside—” you could feel your face burning by that point “—the apartment, I mean. You can come up to the… ah, fuck…” Billy laughed then. “Shut up,” you had said, laughing a little as well.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But I can see you thinking it.”

His dark eyes flashed. “If you could see what I’m thinking,” his voice was low, “we would have already been upstairs.” He grinned at me. “But it’s good to wait, sometimes.” He had leaned closer to you, then, and your heart started pounding. His lips had pressed against yours, sweetly, for a brief moment, before he pulled back. “Till next time, Y/N.”

The next time he came up to your apartment.

Billy had pulled you into his lap as soon as you got into the car. He didn’t generally like being driven around, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off once he got you alone. Billy had been out of the country for the last three weeks and he was not above knowing his limits. He licked into your mouth, one hand on the back of your neck, the other on your ass. You were wearing jeans; he preferred you in leggings, but he could work with what he got.

“This is what you needed me for?” You asked, grinning as you looked down at him.

“Mm hmm,” he murmured back, sliding his hand between your tangled legs to unbutton your jeans, “Figured you have the skills, you can afford a day off.”

“Oh, I can, can I?” You giggled. “What if today’s lesson was important?”

“More important than this?” He asked, rubbing one long finger against your folds. Billy licked his lips as you closed your eyes and sighed against him. “More important,” he asked again, continuing his ministrations, “than this?”

“No,” you breathed against him, your lips almost on his. You moved your hips and he groaned at the feeling.

He kissed you again, grinning as he pushed two fingers in and you gasped. You put your head back and he kissed along the side of your neck, breathing in your scent. Your skin was soft and warm, and you were wet where his fingers touched. It had been Billy’s intention to just screw you and be done with it 3 months ago when you first met, but he liked you. He liked sleeping with you—definitely—but he liked your company, too. Billy had told you about his childhood—the bare, ugly details about his mother’s abandonment, the group home—and a few very, very bare details about his time in the military, mostly about his good friend Frank. You were rolling your hips more and more now, and he could tell you were close. He brought his lips to yours. “I missed you,” he said between kisses.

“Missed you, too,” you said. Your eyes were squeezed shut and Billy moved his hand faster, and you yelped at the increased movement. Billy’s eyes caught the driver’s and they narrowed dangerously. The driver rolled up the partition and Billy made a mental note to handle him later. Until then, he bit a bruise onto your neck as you came on top of him. He held you to him, lightly kissing your cheek and neck as you panted, coming down. He was hard, but he had the patience to wait. “Shit, Billy,” you sighed, your body melting into his.

He kissed you on the mouth, rubbing his cheek on yours. “I gotta get you home, sweetheart,” he whispered, “make up for lost time…”

And he did. Over the course of your…whatever you were, the two of you had fallen into a nice rhythm with a fair understanding of each other. You usually met at his place; Billy had no qualms about going to your apartment, but you said it was too small and “woefully poor” (your words, not his), so you rarely ever went there. You learned not to ask too much about his work, especially what he did when he was overseas, and he learned not to ask you how you afforded medical school with no job. It didn’t really matter to him; he was curious, of course, but he figured you had a secret trust fund or a shitload of student loans—either way, you didn’t seem too eager to talk about it so he didn’t push. He actually was curious about a lot of things in regards to you, but he knew timing was important, so he held on to them…for the moment.

Billy had you naked and underneath him in seconds once you reached his penthouse. Your nails raked his back as he pushed himself in and out of you, grinning at the sounds and faces you were making. He bent his head down, kissed you, and then moved his lips to your neck. You had protested the first few times the two of you had been together about him leaving marks, but he couldn’t help himself. He had no way to know who you were with when he wasn’t around, so he wanted to be sure he left his mark on you, and he told you that much. As a compromise, he’d gotten you a set of some very fine concealer that was personally made to fit your skin color sent in from France. So now he could mark your up to his delight. Which he did.

He had you three more times that day. You took a break to order some food and put on a movie. Halfway into the movie, you climbed into his lap and you proceeded to move onto round four. Now, you lay naked in his bed. You had your head on his chest and he had one arm holding you, the other holding a glass of bourbon. You didn’t know it, but this was the happiest he’d been in days. He had gone over to Kandahar to dig up some old intel for Frank—he owed him the favor, however much he didn’t want to go back there. It was tiring work; both physically and mentally. He was glad to be back, to be with you. He looked down at you; your hair was loose and wild from all the activity and his hands in it, and your eyes were heavy with sleep. He could see a few hickeys forming on your neck already, and he smiled at his success. You were wrapped in his arms and his blanket, and Billy couldn’t help but think about what this would be like if this were his life…

“So when do I get to meet her?” Frank had asked, staring out into the water. He and Billy had met to debrief around 4 am when Billy landed back in the States. Billy was tired, dead on his feet, but he was glad to see Frank. Slowly, with a lot of caution and care, they were starting to rebuild their friendship. It also didn’t hurt that they were working a mission together again: to bring down Agent Orange. Frank had wanted to meet him as soon as he got back, and because he was brooding Frank, he’d wanted to meet at the waterfront, which was colder than usual in the night.

“Meet who?” Billy asked, running his hand through his hair and resting it on the back of his neck. He was still wearing his combat gear.

“The girl. Your girl,” Frank said, a grin on his lips. The grin widened when he saw the look on Billy’s face. Frank, wearing a hood over his head, a big coat, and holding a dossier actually looked like he was close to giggling. “When do I get to meet her?”

Billy smiled, despite himself, and rolled his eyes. “Never, man,” he said back, “Y/N’s just a friend. We’re just having fun.”

“Uh huh,” Frank hadn’t sounded convinced, “Seems to me you’ve been ‘having fun’ for close to what? Two months now?”

“Three,” Billy responded automatically.

Frank raised an eyebrow, like he had just made a point. “Seems like a long time to be having fun, Bill.”

Billy smirked. “Not the way we do it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Frank chuckled, “I’m just sayin’, Bill, it’s important to have loved ones, family…”

“That’s what I got you and Curt for,” he said easily.

“Yeah, that’s right, you do. But uh… I can’t speak for Curtis, but you know I only like you as a friend, right?”

Billy laughed. “You’re hilarious, Frankie,” he rolled his eyes, “you should do stand-up.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Frank persisted, “Maria and me… We always hoped you bring a girl around, settle down…”

“Quality over quantity,” Billy said wryly.

“Exactly, buddy,” Frank paused, weighing the dossier in his hands, “You know, after this… Things will be different. This, killing Rawlins, exposing what he had us doing, won’t bring Maria and the kids back,” Billy lowered his head at that statement, his guilt was too raw on his face to show to Frank as he continued, “But it’ll make us… not clean, but a little less dirty.” Frank grinned at him then. “Anvil won’t be powered by blood money anymore; nobody will own us or command us. As new starts go, it’s not a bad one…”

“Provided we don’t die,” Billy added.

Frank nodded, dark eyes serious again. “Provided we don’t die.” There was a silence between them then, but neither man rushed in to fill it. They looked over the dark waters for a moment before Frank went on. “When you’re ready,” he said easily, “I’d like to meet her.”

Billy thought back on that as he held you, naked and warm, to his chest.

“Hey,” he said softly, half-hoping you were asleep.

“Yeah?” Your voice was soft and low and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Hopefully you,” you smirked up at him.

He chuckled. “Well, in-between that, if there’s time, you wanna come meet a couple of my buddies with me?” Billy figured it he was going to do this, he might as well rip the band-aid off and throw Curtis in the mix as well.

You sat up, interested. This was definitely a step. Billy had met Maggie in passing, but Maggie was a school-friend. You hadn’t even told your sister about him, and the two girlfriends you’d talked about him with didn’t know he was the Billy, as in Billy Russo head of Anvil. You’d never even discussed what the two of you were, let alone anything about meeting friends.

Your silence served as an answer to him. “You don’t have to,” his voice was smooth, “I’ll just step out for a bit, meet ‘em, and be back before you know it.”

“No, I want to meet your friends,” you said, placing your hand on his bare chest, “I just… I wasn’t expecting this.” You paused, putting your head back down before putting it up again. “Wait, are your friends ladies? Are these lady friends?”

“Why? Would that be better or worse?” Billy asked with a smile.

“Worse… These are Anvil people or military?”

“Ex-military. My friends Curtis and Frank want to meet you—”

“—why?”

He shrugged, only a little sure of the answer himself. “Cause they’re nosy bastards. Frank’s my best buddy, we were stationed overseas together. We did eight years,” Billy paused, “He’s been through a lot, lost his family,” he felt like he was oversharing, but he couldn’t stop, “He’s my brother, his family… they treated me like their own, called me ‘Uncle Bill’ and everything…” He was starting to feel a heavy sadness come over him, so he decided to move on, “My other friend, Curtis, he’s a vet too. Technically he works for Anvil part-time,” he smiled softly, “He counsels other vets, hooks them up with jobs, support, that kind of thing. He lost a leg in the war. He’s a real good guy… Him and Frank both.”

“And they want to meet me?” Your voice sounded awed.

Billy ran a hand through his hair. “They do,” he said back, “Frank’s the one been buggin’ me about it. They know I’ve been spending a lot of time with you, which, y’know,” he smirked, “hasn’t always been the case with me. So, they wanna meet you.”

“Oh,” you sat up so that you were shoulder-to-shoulder with him. You wouldn’t look at him, you were looking straight ahead.

“What? You don’t want to meet them? You don’t have to,” he shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I want to, I…” You put your hands in your lap and Billy felt himself tensing up. Childhood abandonment aside, he still wasn’t used to the sting of rejection. And something about you; the way you laughed, how you kissed him, the sound you made when you came, made it hit a lot closer to home. “I just don’t know… what are we?”

You were looking at him now, and he felt his eyes widened. That was your problem? He laughed. “I didn’t know labels meant so much to you, babe.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “It’s not just a label,” you maintained, “It means something. I just…” you looked away again. “I can never tell if this,” you waved a hand between the two of them, “means something to you.”

Billy nodded, eyes on your hands, which had found their way back in your lap. He leaned closer to you and put a finger on your chin, turning your face towards his. His dark eyes bore yours, and he meant his next words with every part of him. “This means something to me,” his voice was low and serious, “You mean something to me. You think this is all just fun and games to me?” You shrugged, your eyes wide. He huffed out a bitter laugh, determined to get through this conversation. “What’s it to you, huh? What does this,” he imitated your gesture, “mean to you?”

“Danger,” you said immediately, your voice soft but seeming to take up the whole room. You smiled. “I like danger.”

He felt a heat go over him, but ignored it for now. “Yeah? What else?”

“What else does this mean?” You repeated. “It means I’m way in over my head,” you took a breath, “look at you. I mean… in what world would a guy like you be interested in a girl like me?”

“In this world,” he quipped back, “In every world. Give yourself some credit, sweetheart. I’m the fucked up one here, not you,” his eyes softened as he looked at your, naked and wrapped in his sheets, “you’re perfect.”

Your smile made his knees go weak, and he wasn’t even standing. “So, we’re doing this? The big B and G thing?”

“The what?”

You leaned forward, dropping your voice to a whisper. “The boyfriend and girlfriend thing.”

He leaned in as well, bumping noses with your and smiling. “Yeah,” he said, claiming your lips for a kiss, “We’re doing this: the boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”

Frank and Curtis took to you like two old uncles. They doted on you, making any and every joke or comment at Billy’s expense that they could. You, in turn, became their go-to person whenever they needed a knife wound or bullet hole patched up—which was becoming more and more frequent the closer they got to bringing Rawlins down. It had been four months since you and Billy had officially started dating, and nearly seven months since you’ve begun seeing each other. It had been surprisingly, scarily, easy for Billy to get used to their new relationship. Somewhere along the line, he had realized that money, cars, and clothes were fine to play with, discard, trade up, but women were different—particularly, this woman was different. There was only one problem.

“Should I tell Y/N about this shit?” Billy asked, rifle on the edge of the railing. He, Frank, Curtis, Micro, and Karen were staking out a warehouse where one of Rawlins’ top men was housed. He had crawled his way from whiny assistant to suitcase-holding secret keeper and graduated to owning and operating his own small faction in the local non-ethnic mob.

“The covert mission shit we’re on now or the old army shit we were on before?” Frank clarified. Billy could hear muffled shouts and grunts—Frankie was doing what he was doing best in the warehouse while Billy had his six.

“One kind of leads into the other,” Karen said. She and Micro were in a van a few blocks away, running point. Billy wasn’t 100% okay with her involvement; both as a member of the press and his buddy’s potential squeeze piece, but he had to admit, she had a grounding presence and a good head on her shoulders. Despite her (suspicious, in his mind) interest in Frank, she was an asset to the team. Plus, she had a point.

“Got a couple heading your way, Russo,” Curtis said, his voice clear in the earpiece, “And my opinion? You should lay it all on the table. I think you can handle it.”

Billy closed one eye, focusing his vision through the lens of his rifle. Sniping was easy for him, it was basically second nature. Plus, with Frank and Curtis on the mission with him, he felt at ease. “Could turn out to be a bad idea,” he reasoned, putting five guys down in the matter of seconds. He switched out the magazine and took out another two. “Shit’s been great between us, don’t wanna ruin it.”

“The truth will set you free,” Micro said sagely, “but first it will piss you off.”

Billy restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Thanks Homeless Yoda,” he said sarcastically, “but for the record, I was talkin’ to Curtis and Frank, not you and Journalist Barbie.”

“Hey!” Karen protested.

“Don’t be an asshole, asshole,” Frank grunted, he sounded like he had just taken a hit to the gut, “It’s good to have a feminine opinion on this.”

“Thank you, Frank,” Karen said lightly.

“And Lieberman?” Billy asked, sending a shot through the eyebrows of one of the mob guys.

“He’s pretty useless in these matters,” Frank replied honestly. Billy chuckled at his response and Micro’s answering “what?!”

“Look, Billy,” Curtis cut in, “it’s up to you what you tell your and when. But, if you ask me, it’s better to get it all done and out in the open sooner rather than later. You don’t want her finding any of this shit out by accident or from someone else.”

“And Y/N deserves to know the truth,” Frank said, “she’s a good girl, Bill. And she loves you, she’ll love you no matter what.”

Billy shook his head slightly but said nothing. The two of you hadn’t said those three words to each other, but he was close to letting them out. He could feel it; every time you smiled at him or laughed at some stupid comment he said or sighed when you patched up a wound that he wouldn’t tell you about. Even tonight, he had told you he was going out with the guys—partly true—and you had just said ok, but you’d given him a look…like you knew something else was going on. You’d pressed him about it once, on suspicions that he was meeting up with a girl, but he’d squashed that. Several times, actually, he thought with a smirk growing on his lips. He had told you, and left no room for argument or doubt, that you were the only woman for him. Period.

The mission didn’t last much longer, and once they got the target (aptly named “The Fat Man” by Micro), all it took was a search done by Karen using Billy’s Anvil program to sort the truth from fiction. The Fat Man agreed, in exchange for his life and not being left alone with either Frank or Billy, to set up a meeting with some of his mob guys. While Frank threatened the trembling criminal to keep quiet until it was time for the showdown, Billy walked away a few yards and called Y/N.

“Billy?” You said. He smiled at the sound of your voice, it was clear you had been sleeping.

“Hey, baby, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s cool,” he could hear the covers shifting as you sat up, “what’s up? Somebody need stitches?”

Billy looked over at his friends—and Karen and Micro—they looked fine. “Nah, we’re good. I’ll be headin’ home in a few. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You’re coming home soon? How soon? I can stay up.”

“No,” he shook his head, a smile on his face, “Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll be there soon.” You would not, under any circumstances, give up your shitty apartment, but Billy had been able to convince you—in various ways—to spend the night at his place more and more. You had a key and were given full clearance by his security team. The two of you talked for a little while longer before you hung up. As Billy looked out at the bodies all over the courtyard of the warehouse and up at the bright yellow moon, he couldn’t help but think… maybe it was time to tell your, maybe you’d understand. Maybe you’d be okay, still care for him…

…or maybe you’d leave.

Billy was at work, prepping a group of guys for a security detail assignment when his burner phone went off. He dismissed the guys with a turn of his head and picked up the phone.

“Russo,” he answered. He had a good idea who it was, but he was used to answering calls in that way.

“Bill, it’s me,” Frank’s voice was rough and breathless, “I’m with Micro and the Fat Man. At the warehouse he told us about. You need to get here quick.”

Billy put a hand on the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience. “Frank,” he hissed into the receiver, “I can’t just leave, I’m working, this is my job…”

“Y/N’s here.”

Billy’s blood ran cold. He had been leaning on the wall, but he stood erect now. “What?”

“Bill,” Frank swallowed, “I think she might be working for the Fat Man.”

Billy had never broken so many speeding laws in his life. He was still on the phone with Frank, who was telling him that Y/N was one of the dozen people at the Fat Man’s second warehouse, where they were packaging dope. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. Frank was trying to calm him down, but he was too far gone. His silence was proof of that.

“I don’t know if they have her hostage, I don’t think she’s hurt…” Frank was saying.

“I’m gonna kill every last one of those rat bastards,” Billy said, his New York accent thick in his rage, “What’s the Fat Man say? She one of his?” The question, the phrasing of it, made him grip the steering wheel with anger. His knuckles were white on the wheel.

There was a silence on the other line as Frank repeated the question. Billy could tell from the garbled response that the Fat Man had probably already been busted in his lip; probably by Frank. “The Fat Man says she’s not on his payroll, but he knows her. Says she’s been doctoring his guys for a while now.”

“How long?”

Another pause. “A year.”

Billy cursed in his head, but said nothing out loud. He pulled up to the side of the warehouse where Frank and the Fat Man were. Micro’s van was there, the door rolled open. Billy didn’t even give the geek a cursory glance as he stalked over to Frank and the Fat Man. The Fat Man’s lip was indeed busted, and his nose was bleeding as well.

“He says this is where they package their dope, sell their guns, shit like that,” Frank said, standing behind Billy as he ripped his suit jacket off and practically threw it at Micro. “They call her here,” Frank was careful not to say your name when Billy’s eyes looked like that, “every few months.”

“She’s a doctor,” the Fat Man explained, looking like a guilty child caught with the cookie jar, “Her brother owed us big, so she took over his debt. She worked it off in a matter of months.”

This was news to Billy. You had mentioned your brother in passing, but you never even gave his name. Billy had just assumed you two weren’t close and didn’t press it. “So what is she doing here now, then?” Billy asked, his voice tense.

“I—we hired her on to do some more work for us. Patch up work, mostly, on a few of the fellas. She said she needed the cash, she made good on her brother’s debt… We—I didn’t know she was with you.”

Billy cocked his gun, done with the Fat Man for now. He turned to Frank, who nodded. They didn’t need to speak—they could read each other’s faces.

Frank turned to address Micro. “Can you get us eyes in there or what?” He asked.

Micro turned back to his computer and began typing away. “Got a few,” he reported, he glanced at Billy, “Y/N’s not on them.”

“The girl works in the back room,” the Fat Man supplied, eager to help, “no cameras. Just her and the guys.”

Frank put a steadying hand on Billy’s shoulder as they took in those words. Billy’s trigger finger was itching. “Show us the location where she works.” Billy demanded. Micro and the Fat Man pulled up the camera. It was a short corridor to the back room, which was sealed off with a heavy wood door. Billy couldn’t wait to break it down.

“Who’s in there with her?” Frank asked. Billy could feel himself growing impatient; he rolled his head but kept quiet. These questions were important.

“She’s operating on Little Louie,” the Fat Man answered, “he’s one of the packagers. He’s got blockage in his lungs or some shit. She’ll be in there, one guy to assistant, and at least two other guys to, y’know, make sure she does her work and then pay her when she’s through.”

“So they’re armed?” Billy asked.

“Yeah,” the Fat Man blanched, “but they’d never hurt her—she’s a nice girl, the doctor. We like her a lot.” That was the wrong thing to say.

Billy grabbed him by his collar and knocked him into the side of the van; hard. His face was inches from the Fat Man’s, so the other man could see the uncontained rage and very real threat of violence in his dark eyes. “Somethin’ happens to her, I’m gonna come back out here and shoot you in your fucking fat gut, you got that you piece of shit?” He hissed. The Fat Man nodded quickly and Frank sighed behind him. Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck, I might shoot you anyway.”

“We don’t got time for this, Bill,” Frank’s gruff voice brought Billy back. He pushed the Fat Man away from him and turned back to his friend. “Cuff him and move to the back,” he ordered Micro, “we’re going in.”

--To Be Continued

~~So I can make this two or three parts, if anyone is interested. Just let me know. Again, this is the first time I’ve ever written something like this so I would love love LOVE any kind of feedback or comment.

#billy russo #Billy Russo x reader #The Punisher #Ben Barnes #Billy Russo imagine

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let-it-raines · 6 years

Note

I have an idea for a CS doc that I'd love to see. Remember that box of memorabilia Emma kept from her life? Have Hope find a whole box of stuff from Emma's relationship with Hook/killian starting with the handkerchief from the beanstalk. Other items include the broken dart, the wine soaked napkin, both roses somehow kept in stasis, etc.

As Emma gets older, she appreciates different things in life.

She used to like to get dressed up, tight dresses with cleavage showing and heels that were definitely more for looks than for practicality, to go out for drinks and dancing and maybe a little something extra if she was feeling it that night. And it definitely wasn’t the same type of dancing she did on her wedding day or back in the Enchanted Forest when she and Killian went back in time and had to reunite her parents so, you know, she didn’t disappear from existence amongst other things. Now, though, she prefers to stay at home in her leggings and an oversized sweater or one of Killian’s shirts, her makeup wiped clean and her hair falling in loose, sometimes un-brushed waves as she dances with Killian in the kitchen when she swipes some of the blueberry muffin batter out of the bowl he was mixing it in and he grabs her by the waist in retaliation until they somehow start swaying to the music that’s often playing through Killian’s phone. He prefers slow, soft songs, and there’s usually something from the fifties playing whenever he’s in control of the music instead of Hope and her penchant for Disney music that she doesn’t fully realize is about the very real people in her life.

She hasn’t discovered Peter Pan yet, and Emma’s not sure if she or Killian are more thankful.

Alone time used to be a big thing for her, and while it still is, it’s in a different way. She’d been alone for the entirety of her life, and even when people were around her, maybe especially when people were around her, she felt alone. So it’s something that she got used to, and it wasn’t until Henry that she realized that being alone is okay when you need it, but there are people who are worth being around and spending time with on a regular basis. Now, though, while she thanks Killian for those times when he makes sure her parents stay away with Hope and he takes over the station so that she can take a nap, she also appreciates her parents coming over (when it’s planned) with her brother and her time with Killian and Hope. She really appreciates when Henry comes home and everyone’s together. She’d give up all of her alone time for the next year for that to happen more frequently. The girl who was always alone isn’t anymore, and while it doesn’t surprise her so much now, she’s no less thankful.

But she does still like that alone time.

For most of her life, she hated sharing a bed with someone. It was too intimate, and it was also too damn hot, the body heat of the man beside her too warm and too much like her time in foster homes. But now she’s clingy to Killian as he sleeps besides her, her arms wrapping around his waist and her hands feeling the hair on his chest under her fingertips, soft and warm in the same way that his calves are as they tangle with hers. If he works the night shift, it feels lonely in their bed, like something is missing. And it is. She never thought she’d be that girl, but she guesses that she just never had the right person for her to want to be that way.

There are other things like finding a good book to read as well finding the time to read it, going on dates with Killian, spending time at the playground with Hope, texting with Henry, hosting people at her house for meals and holidays. She guesses that she appreciates the normal things, the things that people who don’t wield magic and fight off evil get to do on a daily basis. She appreciates getting to be part of a normal family….well, normal in the way that families are normal in Storybrooke.

She always thought that she wasn’t sentimental, that she didn’t care about things or trinkets that held memories, but she’s learned that she was wrong to think that about herself.

Hell, she kept her baby blanket from the people who she thought had left her on the side of the road and didn’t care about her enough to even take her to the hospital. Of course, she also kept the keychain from Neal, and while things like that could be passed off as being sentimental, they weren’t. They were reminders not to trust because trusting means that your heart gets broken again and again and again even if the walls around your heart are built so high that you think they can never crack or never fall.

They can, and it’s not always in the good way.

But then Henry found her and allowed her to meet her parents and find love in places she never thought she could find it.

And then Killian came into the picture and helped her to fill in the gaps of her life by simply being him and believing in her even when she didn’t believe in herself. Maybe especially when she didn’t believe in herself.

So yeah, she’s kind of sentimental, and she finds herself growing that way more so now that she’s getting older but not too old thank you very much. She and Killian are trying for another baby, something they’d decided when Hope was four and both of them just had this want, a need really, and she may be a little emotional today because she knows that she’s pregnant again. So yeah, she’s totally sentimental because she has an entire basement full of all of her children’s things, and she’ll do the same with this one’s belongings.

And also a chest full of things from Killian which Hope found while exploring her closet and is now shifting through like the vibrant, curious five-year-old that she is, asking questions with every item she pulls out.

“Why do you have a dirty towel in here, Mommy?”

She fingers the scarf Killian had wrapped her bloodied hand with at the top of the beanstalk. She didn’t realize she kept it until she found it in her room at her parents’ after Neverland, and her heart started pounding in her chest at the thought that subconsciously she was holding onto pieces of Killian in the way that she was consciously holding back from when she saw him in real life. She still remembers the sting of the rum on her cut hand and the way that Killian had tugged on the material with his teeth while staring up at her with those ocean blue eyes of his. Her heart had pounded out of her chest then too, her eyes unable to look away, and he took her breath from her lungs in a way that she simply wasn’t comfortable with. She’s comfortable with it now.

“It’s a scarf that daddy gave me when we first met.”

Hope studies it for a moment longer, looking between it and Emma, her face trying to connect the pieces of it as if it’s more than just a scarf. It is.

“It’s not as pretty as your other scarves.”

She chuckles because if you ever want the truth, you should simply ask a child. “No, it’s not. But it’s special to me.”

Hope doesn’t seem to pay any attention to that, moving on from the scarf only to pull out the wine-stained napkin from their first date. This one she didn’t keep herself. It was all Killian who swiped it from the restaurant, and she found it in his room at Granny’s one night when she was staying there and looking for protection so they didn’t create someone like Hope far before either of them were ready. She’d smiled to herself before quickly grabbing a condom and shutting the drawer as her heart fluttered in her chest over something other than the arousal she was feeling. She swiped it the next day, and it took Killian a total of three days before he finally asked if she had taken it, his voice frantic like he had lost something precious. She guesses to him, he had. And to her now, too.

“This is also a dirty scarf. Or a napkin which is gross. Did daddy give you this?”

“Daddy gave me everything in the box.”

“Why?”

“Because he loves me.”

Hope scrunches her nose up, making the face she always has when Killian tries to get her to eat fish. She despises fish, and Emma swears it may break Killian’s spirit a little more every time.

“Weird.”

Hope then pulls out the chain where Liam’s ring used to reside, the faded silver of it dimly sparkling in the light. When Hope was teething, she’d bite on the chain, yanking at Emma’s neck in the process, and one day Emma got so fed up with it that she simply slid the ring onto her thumb and kept it there until Killian came home with a different chain because he thought she’d lost the original one. She hadn’t, and while the ring mostly stays on her thumb, she’ll sometimes let it hang on it’s new, more delicate link along with a small diamond pendant Killian bought her for their first wedding anniversary.

“This necklace doesn’t have a jewel like your other ones.”

“Not all of them do, baby.”

Hope reaches for an ultrasound picture next, and the tears start to sting behind Emma’s eyes as she thinks of the child inside of her now as well as the two before it and how different each of them already are and how they’ve all come to be in different phases of her life.

“What’s this a picture of?”

“You.”

“This doesn’t look like me.”

“It’s from when you were in my belly.”

“Your belly is a blurry place.”

She reaches forward to tickle at Hope’s sides, causing her melodic giggles to waft through the room while Emma messes with her, curls falling from her ponytail the more she wiggles around. “Well, you still stayed in there for nine months, squirt, so you didn’t mind that too much.”

“You’re a silly goose, mommy.”

“She’s a silly swan, little love,” Killian chimes in from where he’s emerged from downstairs to stand in the doorway of their bedroom, a soft smile on his face that may bring out the tiredness in his eyes but makes him no less handsome.

“The saying goes silly goose,” Hope protests, and the girl is so headstrong they don’t know what they’re going to do with her when she gets older. They don’t even talk about how she’s going to be when her magic really comes into play. That’s just…terrifying. “Not silly swan. That’s what grandma says.”

“Ah, and grandma seems to always be right these days, doesn’t she?”

He moves to come and sit beside them on the bed, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his hand against her stomach, the heat of his skin seeping through her shirt, like he already knows another child rests inside of her. Knowing him, he probably knew before she did.

“What are we looking at, my loves?”

“A box of weird stuff you’ve given mommy.”

“Oh, so are you in the box then too?”

Hope turns to look at Killian, and she gives him the meanest look she can muster, her brows furrowing together and her lips pursing while she puts her hands on her hips. Bless her little soul for trying to mean mug her dad, but he’s an impenetrable fortress when it comes to things like that. He basically invented that staring into your soul thing, so Hope is a bit out of luck here.

“You didn’t give me to mommy.”

“Technically, I did.”

Emma slaps his side and stifles her laugh. She hopes that Killian never stops with the innuendos. It’s never too early to scar their kid…kids for life. God knows Henry was probably relieved when he moved out, but they lay it on extra thick when he comes home.

“What else you got in there, bug?”

Hope rifles through the box again, pulling out a few darts that she and Killian have pilfered from Granny’s over the years, the one he was throwing when she asked him out on a date sticking out with its blunted in. There’s the seashell he’d used to communicate with her when they got separated and she’d stupidly thought the worst of him. That one brings back a mixture of memories that she’d care to forget about, and luckily Hope doesn’t linger on it too long, moving onto a stack of letters that Killian has written her over the years.

“Is this mail?”

She and Killian both laugh, and he presses a kiss to her temple before releasing her side so that he can grab onto the stack of letters, the both of them knowing that even with Hope’s advanced but limited reading skills, there are some things in there she doesn’t need to know about.

“Like mail,” Killian supplies, thumbing through the letters until he pulls one out, reading through the contents before smiling to himself. “These are letters I wrote to mummy.”

“Why?”

“Because I love her, and I want her to always know that.”

“Couldn’t you just tell her that? Like you already do.”

“I couldn’t always, so I wrote letters to give to her later. Like how you draw pictures at school and give them to us when you get home. These are like a book.”

“Like the storybook?”

“Aye.”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Aye.”

“Swan, would you like to have dinner with me on Thursday? Possibly on the Jolly Roger this time? We could sail away, if not just a small ways away from the harbor so as not to be disturbed for the smallest amount of time. Perhaps we could dance again like we did during our adventure, our bodies swaying together as the depths of the ocean sway underneath us, rocking us together. I realize you’ve spent much time with me on my ship, but it’s never been while we were intimately acquainted. We were adversaries at best, reluctant allies, and now we are not that. We are friends, lovers, something more, and I know that may scare you, but I’d like you to see the place I called home for so long before I met you. Have a wonderful day, love. I’ll see you at lunch. Killian.”

There are a few things in the letter that she hopes pass right over Hope’s head, a few suggestive words and innuendos, but she’s sure there’s not a letter in there that doesn’t contain one of those. That’s who her husband is, and his way with words never fails to amaze her. She feels her heart pound in her chest over hearing those words again, the rhythm almost as erratic as when he’d left in on her desk at the station, somehow getting inside and past her security system of…okay, well, it was simply a lock at the time. Of course he could get in.

“That’s not a story,” Hope protests, and she and Killian both chuckle before Killian leans forward and kisses Hope’s forehead in the same way that he kissed hers earlier.

“It is to me, bug.”

Eventually Hope grows bored with Emma’s box of things, carefully putting everything back like the meticulous little thing that she is – she does take after Killian in a lot of ways after all – before going to her room and playing with her own things while Emma and Killian go through the things on their own, Killian looking back at her and sharing small smiles and pointed eyebrow raises with every little bit of their past.

Life can be made up of things, sure, but those things represent memories, little pieces of pasts that make up the present they live in. This box is full of her own personal treasures, but the real treasure lies within her husband and her children, the life that they’ve formed with her. It can’t be quantified within a treasure chest, but it can be in her very real chest, her heart beating right inside of her.

“So when are we going to get another one of these done?” Killian questions, fingering Hope’s ultrasound picture, and how does he always know? He always knows any change in her, even the smallest of ones. This really is the smallest of ones, for now.

“How did you know?”

Killian doesn’t answer with words, not yet. Instead he turns his head so that he can slant his lips over hers, their noses pressing into each other in spite of the box in between them until they pull back.

“Because I know you, and I found the pregnancy test in the kitchen bin. Not your best work, darling.”

She scrunches her nose up, internally chastising herself for not hiding it someone else, before shrugging her shoulders and kissing at the corners of his lips.

“In my defense, I didn’t think you’d go rummaging through the trash can when you got home from pulling an all-nighter at work.”

“I accidentally threw a fork away. I had to get it out.”

She bursts into laughter, her entire body moving with the force of it before she rests her forehead against his.

“Are you ready to do this again?”

“Aye. I’m ready for a new box of treasure.”

#cs prompt #cs fic #cs ff

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blueberrypancakepotbellygirl · 5 years

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DO YALL WANT TO MEET MY NEW DND CHARACTER ?

this is the only thing stopping me from jumping out a window right now.

Name: Belanor Whyteroak

Race: Wood Elf

Class: Paladin

Her oath: I will free the eyes and mouths of the people.

Belanor’s God has always been there. Ever since she can remember, her days have been full of ‘revelations’ - moments of divine clarity where Veritas, goddess of truth, would visit to guide Belanor through life’s many traps and threats that plague the world by hiding in plain sight. Only a few have been given the power of true sight by Veritas, and Belanor is one of the chosen. When she was just a child she made an oath to Veritas free the elves, orcs and dwarves from the ideological apparatus that cinch the lives of all that live under the country’s [aristocracy/government]. What Belanor knows is not a conspiracy - it is the truth, straight from the mouth of Celestial certainty. The [royal family/government] do not want what is best for their people and have been insidiously manipulating and controlling the lower classes in an attempt to eventually take full control over their land, property and lives for their own selfish gain. Veritas primarily shows her presence to Belanor through reflections - in puddles, lakes, mirrors, dark glass, teaspoons - and takes the form of an eagle.

Growing up as an only child, Belanor had many friends but never socialised with children at school. Rather, Belanor met friends whilst playing in the park by herself, or random children who would creep into her room through her window in the middle of the night for secret sleepovers. Belanor was never afraid of strangers as a child. Over the years, her friendships have changed, but she has never struggled to make new acquaintances. Her relationship with her mother and step-father, however, have never been as easy.

Having never met her father, and knowing her step-dad, Rackeo, since she was a little elf, Belanor grew up very aware of a distance between herself and her parents. Her step-dad did not love her like a dad, but like a distant uncle, or a disinterested teacher might. His interest was in her mother, not in her. He had never wanted children, and only reluctantly took on the role after falling deeply in love with Belanor’s mother.

Her mother never believed her when she told her that a tall, ominous shadow figure would enter her room at night and watch her sleep. Her mother never believed that Belanor could talk to birds or communicate with the dead. Rather, she would simply sigh, staying up late at night worrying about her daughter and her pathological lying, praying, to whatever God would listen, that this phase was, in fact, just a phase. She blamed herself, and the absence of her biological father, for what seemed like obvious acting-out.

Belanor was told her whole life that she was a liar, that her imagination had gone a little too wild, that the monsters under her bed were preventing her from fully maturing and becoming a ‘proper’ citizen. “Good people don’t lie,” her mother would snap at her constantly. Quickly, Belanor stopped telling her mother about her wild adventures with friends, or her new eagle companion. She kept to herself, learnt to distrust most, and comforted herself with the knowledge that it was her mother who had been the victim of lies of deceit, not herself. Belanor had been gifted with real truth, a truth that many just could not handle.

Belanor has always known she was special. She knew she could see the real world where others could only see the surface. She was aware of the true evil that was at play, the oppressive powers pulling the strings, that made her family and others like hers suffer in poverty and pain whilst the rich lived in comfort and peace. Constantly she would get into fights with demented animals that would chase after her in the playground, animals sent by those who knew she had the power within her to dismantle the system. However, her classmates would get caught up in the collateral damage of bloody and scrappy fistfights and, after a series of stints in detention and two spells of suspension, Belanor’s school decided that they could no longer take in our brave, valiant wood elf. Having no friends at the school, nor any interest in academics or magic, Belanor happily left and, whilst never able to keep a job for more than a few months, managed to get by, still living with her parents until a more sustainable opportunity came about.

However, the flickering figure that had watched her sleep for so many years, started to walk outside of her bedroom walls. It would follow her to work, or to bars and clubs where she would spend time with her friends. At first, she wondered if he was a demon that had slipped from a nightmare into the waking world. Soon, however, she became convinced that this figure had been sent to monitor her. She tried to hide from it, but failed every time, until one day, whilst eating ice-cream in her kitchen, Veritas came to her to warn her about him. “He knows who you are. He knows you know the truth. He will kill you. Be careful.” With her suspicions confirmed, Belanor attacked the shadow in her kitchen. The figure vanished immediately and was replaced, somehow, by her stepfather. Horrified and scared of what she might do next, her step-father reported her to the police, where she spent seventy years within the judicial system.

After being released from jail, Belanor moved away from her parents, into underground groups and parties that planned terrorist attacks against the major powers. She met group members through dorm-mates in jail, and through her connections had been couch-surfing, never staying in one place for more than a week, so as to prevent government agents from finding her. She was involved in a number of counter-attacks involving the arson of high-security buildings, and the attempted assassination of the [whoever rules the country she is living in], for which she is now spending a life-sentence in jail for. She has never told anyone about Veritas for fear of being misunderstood or placed within a psychiatric facility. Veritas has warned her that her fellow citizens would never understand. So, for the last twenty years of her sentence, Belanor has been planning, plotting and preparing to take down the government/aristocracy from the inside out. Through the befriending of inmates and guards alike, Belanor has enough inside information to properly put a dent in the ruling, oppressive powers that be. Now, all she needs is a few other willing radicals with the same desire to obtain freedom. Together, she has a plan to escape all chains.

*******************************************************************************************

So, there are two ways I see this going. Either Veritas is a canon Goddess, just a primarily unknown one within the universe the campaign is in that has been hidden by the ruling powers as part of a conspiracy to prevent the people of this world from knowing the truth about their current lives. Belanor’s hallucinations have been actual visits from the Goddess, in reflections because the hand mirror is a symbol of Veritas, and as an eagle, because Veritas’ father is Zeus (that’s his sacred animal) and eagles represent freedom and bravery.

Or, what Belanor has been experiencing has been on-going psychosis. Rather than being the subject of a Goddess, Belanor is living a parallel life to Echo. She sees the eagle because it is the animal of Zeus, and Zeus is the God who, through his forcing her to protect him, forces Echo to lose control of her voice, only allowing her to repeat the words of others - which is Belanor’s number one fear (being unable to have control over her life). Her attempt to free the voices of the common people is also an attempt to free her own. The reflections are important because they represent the thing that prevents her from having the one thing she desires more than anything - just as the reflection in the river kills Echo’s love, Narcissus. Her hallucinations mean that she will never have full agency over her life, as she is constantly influenced by visions and voices that are indiscernible from reality…

However, it isn’t the reflections that kill Narcissus, but his own hamartia. Belanor’s hallucinations aren’t the enemy here, preventing her from having control over her life. Rather, it is her need to have full control over every aspect of her life that means she will never achieve actual freedom. I don’t know if any of this makes senseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

#dnd #belanor

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firebirdsdaughter · 6 years

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Quick, while the ibuprofen kicks in!...

... Zi-O 20 raw!

In no order:

Are the Wozes gonna be switching off for the recaps now?

Okay. Why has my computer managed to learn Geiz, Tsukuyomi, and Sougo’s names but not the word ‘the.’ So every time I mistype it as ‘teh’ I have to go back and fix it?

I’ve already watched this once, Kuro Woz, I know you’re lying to me. Or maybe it’s just your wishful thinking.

Sougo needs to learn that Geiz’s main method of tacit communication is punching things.

Geiz’s eternal war against having feelings. The boy is losing.

Honestly, though, he’s probably also got some pent up aggression right now, and Hiromu was being so obnoxious I’m not surprised someone as intense as Geiz would want to punch him at some point.

Sougo has come to the conclusion that if he just yells Kuro Woz will show up. And honestly, Kuro Woz has yet to prove him wrong, so...

Shiro Woz is conveniently in suit during this whole opening so that Keisuke doesn’t have to change costumes too quickly.

JK I know scenes are often filmed out of order to make things like this easier.

Congrats, Kuro Woz, you’ve been promoted from Another Rider detector to teleportation service!

Were Ora’s fingernails painted before?

God, I hate Shiro Woz’s laugh.

But on the bright side (literally) my precious tsundere child is so pretty and I love him! He looks so sad here I wanna give him a hug... ^^

While I listen to the theme. Fun fact is that the image translator I use for the mandarin/Japanese subs (there’s both on the versions I watch) periodically translates random words into things like ‘kiss’ and ‘hold’ and other romantic-esque stuff. It literally at one point translated one of Geiz’s lines to Sougo as ‘I want to kiss you’ it was hilarious. The fact that it just does it completely randomly sometimes.

Anyway, Hiromu’s a good actor. Like... His movements are all really fluid and he comes across and really confident? I dunno. I like it.

Geiz is moping around outside, and Tsukuyomi literally just made a ‘really?’ face at him. XD

He’s too embarrassed to come inside, bc that might make him have feelings, so he’s hiding outside pretending he’s angry.

You know Geiz trusts you when he’s willing to at least sort of admit to having feelings around you. This is super cute, actually. I wanna more about the history w/ these two as well... Also him worrying about what Sougo is gonna do is so cute. You do care.

Geiz and Tsukuyomi on their own is really interesting, though. He's much less guarded around her, and she obviously knows him very well.

OH MY GOD. YOU CAN SEE IT. YOU CAN SEE THE EXACT MOMENT HE GETS THE IDEA.

Also this ep was literally Geiz playing Shiro Woz and I love it.

Ya know, I was kind of hoping we’d get some info on Tsukuyomi’s past with this... After all, she’s the other member of the cast we can almost certainly confirm has dad-angst. Admittedly, that’s probably more related to dad getting dusted by Puma Zi-O after pushing her to safety, but...

Come to think of it... Why hasn’t that ever been brought up? Like ‘yes, Sougo, I know you want to be a good overlord and all, but in the future you literally killed my father, can we discuss this?’

Geiz is looking sadly at children playing w/ their parents and I want an explanation.

Apparently he’s here to see Shiro Woz. ... Why is Shiro Woz hanging out at a playground, that’s creepy.

Though the translation was apparently ‘contact.’ But then... How did he contact him?

Geiz just looks so very tired right now. That would definitely be my response to this bastard.

What the hell does Oct-Sox mean? What the hell is Sox?

They’re all so cute though, it’s unfair.

Oh, wow. He goes right at Sougo. That was super obvious.

Geiz is like ‘oh my god, just go already, I only have so much pent up aggression I can throw at this oaf, he’s too cute and I’m kinda fond of him at this point.’

That’s something I kinda wanna write at some point. Like, the fact that Sougo is just so tiny and adorable that he’s like a puppy that makes people instinctively feel the need to protect him or something. And Geiz is just like ‘no what the fuck.’ That was a bad explanation, hopefully it got across.

I’m getting the implication that the Ride Watches have turned into ‘whoever grabs it first from the holder’ and that is bloody hilarious to me.

Okay, so he deHenshins him, but... Sougo isn’t actually that injured. He’s fine, he gets back up and fights later. Geiz actually did him better than Sougo did him during the OOOs thing.

Sougo is picking on Woz again. Woz is literally like ‘you do this every time’ and Sougo looks so proud of himself. This is so funny.

Woz is trying to tell Sougo what to do, and Sougo is like ‘nope.’ And Tsukuyomi’s like ‘please do kill anyone.’

Like I said, this whole ep is Geiz playing Shiro Woz and I support this endeavour.

I love how Tsukuyomi clearly knew very well that Geiz was way softer than he was trying to act, bc she’s straight up giggling at Sougo asking her the same thing. Like, I’m sure she is worried about how this well turn out, but she knows both her boys are going at it w/ good intentions.

Also the fact that they both turned to Tsukuyomi. She’s their glue and they know it. It’s like that line from Harry Potter ‘We won’t make it ten steps without her!’

Aw, Sougo’s so happy to know that Geiz was worrying about it, too. XD

I think she’s noting that originally, Geiz wouldn’t have cared what Sougo would do. And that’s true and it’s cute and I love it.

Sougo just figured it out.

I love how Geiz pauses in front of the door, for some reason.

He literally uses Shiro Woz to get around Ora’s time freeze. I don’t know if he thought that far ahead in the moment from the beginning of the ep, or if that was what he was asking Shiro Woz about before, but that’s freaking brilliant.

Also, it’s totally the feathers. Is there a time bird?

The fact that Shiro Woz is hiding by the air conditioner units writing in his Nook is bloody hilarious to me.

The wild Hiromu is confused.

Geiz is like ‘hell no, I just attacked you guys before so that the asshole in the beret would believe me enough to negate Ora’s timestop’

Shiro Woz here, to ruin everything. Shut up dude, Geiz isn’t sure he wants to do it that way anymore.

Also, side note, the image translator did it as ‘Your mission is to defeat the ostrich.’ And now. I can’t.

It’s interesting how, even though they both wave their arms around, the Wozes are different. Kuro Woz is very stationary w/ his arm waving, while Shiro Woz’s body often follows his arms and does weird noodle motions.

Sougo showing up to back Geiz up. *clutches at my chest and cries bc cuties*

Geiz is mortified at having been caught having and acting on feelings, especially by Sougo.

Okay, so these room shots are nice and dramatic, and everyone looks quite well, but... Where the devil are they? What is this place? I know I joked about air conditioners but that was a joke I don’t actually see any.

He’ so embarrassed, oh my god. I love my tsundere baby so much.

Hiromu’s like ‘holy shit, dude.’

Still would like to point out that Geiz clearly went way easier on Sougo during the ‘fake fight’ thing than Sougo went on him during was was allegedly a fake fight. Though, I will absolutely grant that those had slightly different circumstances. But still.

The only valid things about Shiro Woz is his suit, his henshin (which I still unfortunately love) and the fact that Keisuke seems to be having a great time playing him. That’s it.

I feel like it should be meaningful that Sougo’s breaking out the Double Armour for this. Ya know, the show about partners and their unbreakable trust in each other. Or maybe I’m reading too much into everything. Probably the second one.

I think they changed the effects of Hiromu’s Rider Kick?

A for effort Sougo. But we can’t be beating the tertiary Rider just yet.

‘Who are you?’ ‘I am... Red Buster! No! Wait! Shit! Wrong show again!’

Okay, so he’s just like ‘it’s your mother,’ but... How does he know who his mother is? Has he already met her? How old is Hiromu? My first guess is in his twenties, but hat doesn’t confirm anything. I’m assuming this will be made clear once this is subbed, and the main issue is my not knowing any Japanese and the clunkiness of online translators.

Hiromu thanks Geiz and Geiz’s response it to immediately look away awkwardly. I love him.

Shiro Woz just straight up backhanded Geiz and that is extremely rude. Also let go of Hiromu you meanie.

Shiro Woz has already cottoned on to the fact that Geiz is too good to do what he wants. This is bad.

Geiz why would you take something this guy hands you? Though it’s also freaking adorable how his first reaction is to try and hand it back to Hiromu.

Also, Shiro Woz looking minority offended at Geiz’s first response being trying to give it back.

Also all three of them are still wearing their Drivers and this is somehow hilarious to me.

Aw, Hiromu smile! So sweet! Your hat is still dumb, though, sorry. XD

I am not comfortable w/ the weird electric Watch shock or Shiro Woz at all. I strongly suspect that he’s gonna try and force Geiz to do what he wants at some point.

Doesn’t Geiz Revive have two forms? That looked like only one of them... Maybe him getting the other alters time again? Hmm... Be really cute is he got mind controlled into using one form and then achieves the other by breaking out of it?

Well, Sougo’s clearly at least slightly worried. I’d be freaking out. But I guess at this point this kid might have hit his ‘weird’ quota.

Okay, I think he’s saying something about ‘You have to defeat the Overlord, so you can’t have feelings for/about/care about him’ something like that. Too late loser. Though I can see Geiz trying (and failing) to distance himself just in case, not bc he wants to, but bc he’s scared of actually being hurt if he does have to do it. Did that make any sense?

Hiromu is literally like ‘holy hell, are you okay?’ but also like ‘I... don’t know what I can do if you’re not and now I really don’t wanna cross this guy... Don’t have much choice...’ Like, him looking back in concern was really sweet.

My melodramatic, friendship etc. obsessed side is like ‘Nooooo! Sougo, why didn’t you go after him!’ but my logical half is like ‘oh, gee, I don’t know, maybe the unconscious man on the ground, probably in need of a hospital?’

Tsukuyomi’s outfit was cute again this ep, and I wish I could’ve seen more of it.

Still really hoping Sougo at least tried to look for Geiz. Like, he’s very valid in being super down at the end there after that weird shit, but I really wanna know he at least tried. Like he probably did have to get home, but he must’ve had time to at least try to look...

Apparently, nobody questions why it looks like Kuro Woz just came from upstairs.

Any conversation about what just happened is prevented by Junichiro’s appearance! Man, of all the times, Oji-san.

Also Kuro Woz just ‘ya’d again. That was it. That was all he said.

Kuro Woz just whips out the Zi-O power up and hands it to Junichiro. Like... Why? What is going on here? Sure, Junichiro is acting like he doesn’t recognise it, and maybe he doesn’t. But maybe he also is the one who originally made the Ride Watches, in the past or the future?

Also, Kuro Woz, did you have that the whole damn time?

Maybe Another Ryuuga is the mirror world version of Shinji? And that was why he was creepy smiling? Bc that smile was creepy!

Sougo has to fight his mirror self, it seems. Also, looks like the boys are back together. So either they found Geiz, or he got home on his own. Hoping there’s a ‘we were so worried about you’ scene. I’m also hoping that one day, Sougo, like, hugs Geiz, and Geiz freaks out and is like ‘is this an attack? Am I being attacked?’ and Tsukuyomi’s just like ‘no you nincompoop it’s a hug I know you’ve been hugged before you big baby.’ What? I have absolutely not imagined something like this/already put it into a scene. Sort of. Too bad that at this rate, no one will ever see it.

Also, does mirror Sougo mean Geiz is going to finally have a go at ‘Guess Which is Which?’ Bc I would love there being a time where that happens and he nails it, and then tries to pretend his knowledge of Sougo/ability to tell the difference was not sentimental at all.

Oh, my god. Like that episode of Gekiranger, where Retsu got switched w/ a mirror monster and only Gou noticed? Like, Sougo gets replaced by something, but Geiz, Tsukuyomi, and even Junichiro notice? It would be so cute!

I used the word cute a lot in this post, didn’t I...

Alright, well, that’s all for now. Virtual shortbread for anyone who read my nonsensical ramblings all the way down here.

The tea and the shirts remain on standby if necessary.

Which is not gonna make sense to anyone who didn’t see that one dumb post I made ages ago. XD

Oh, right. And my fave image translator moment from this ep:

I can totally imagine Shiro Woz saying this.

#Kamen Rider Zi-O #Firebird Rambles #literally #pretty sure half of this makes no sense #Zi-O Spoilers #have I mentioned I love Geiz?#my precious tsundere son #long post #anyway #that's all for now folks #Timey Wimey Rider

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yoon-ssi · 6 years

Text

They Were Rommates

Series w/ Sehun & Junmyeon (EXO)

PART THREE

A lot of time has passed. And you've been feeling so much happier and good about yourself. Strange thing has happened, you started to ask them both out too. It would be an ordinary Saturday and you would ring Sehun up for a movie date or a Sunday morning and you'd text Junmyeon to go to a themed park. You had such amazing friends.

Today, even tho it was your birthday, wasn't any different. Sehun already arranged for the two of you to go out and have fun. When you woke up, it wasn't naturally. You were hit in the face by a gigantic plushie and your roommate's laugh. "Aish. Sehun I will choke you." You said with a hoarse voice. He managed to stop his laughter to answer with a small groan, "Choke me, mommy."

Next thing you threw the plushie at him which continued in you two having a pillow fight in your bedroom. You most surely wasn't going to go easy on him. Pillows were getting torn, sheets were thrown around, both of your hair was getting messier... Rolling around on your bed trying to get ahold of the last pillow in one piece, you managed to get him of guard. In one swift move you turned him upward and straddled his hips. "Give up. I won this fight." You said grabbing his wrists and keeping them next to his hips. This was a game and you were both having so much fun. But the moment you straddled him the smile on his face was gone and he was staring at you, not you like your eyes, a bit lower than them. You couldn't understand what was wrong until your own view got a bit lower to his plush lips. A thought of how it would feel to be able to kiss those lips everyday and lay pecks on those soft cheeks filled your mind making you tighten your hands. While staring at his lips you could've swore you felt one of his hands twitch in a need to move up. Quickly realising what the fuck was actually happening you released his wrists and began to unstraddle him with the excuse that your phone was vibrating. You tried your best to push that damn sexual thought out of your head. He is only your friend and he stopped smiling because he is a man with a goddamn dick and you fucking straddled him. Great job.

Your fake ass excuse actually worked, because at that moment Junmyeon was calling you. Sighing in relief you answered the call and heard Sehun leaving with a small "Happy b-day, Ms. Bear!" offered as a goodbye. The phone call was to congratulate you a happy birthday and to inform you that he got so damn busy that he will only be able to meet you tonight around 9 pm at the campus. You knew if it wasn't serious he would get rid of all of his plans for you, thus you didn't think anything bad about it. In the past few months you've got to know him a lot better than you think you already have.

You were walking around with Sehun, who put his denim jacket over his head to protect him from the sun, which made you think of how shameless he actually was. Although, at the same time it made you wanna do the same thing. And you did. Just two weirdos walking around. You two spent the day visiting random coffee shops and trying their muffins and cupcakes and bubble tea. Your tall friend lived for that drink. He was complaining the whole time; about the food, the weather, life, politics, anything you could possibly think of, he already complained about it. Nevertheless, you knew he was enjoying this by the smile on his face everytime he thought you weren't looking. Soon enough he got tired of carrying his jacket and dragged you into a store to buy him some sunglasses. It was your birthday and he was asking you to buy him something. This is the exact reason you adored him. He is shameless and sarcastic and basically the Satan's son and you loved him for it. He asked for some random red sunglasses which you of course bought.

Time went on, you both goofed around harassing some children's playgrounds and laughing around because you two were too big for any of it. Lastly, you ended up by a river and a beautiful sunset. Sehun even took his sunglasses off to look at it. As you walked next to the shore, the sunset went from a warm orange, bloody orange, piercing red all the way to the soft lilac color. You were loving today. Your friend was making you feel so amazing and you were thankful for it. He suddenly stopped next to a random tree without saying anything.

"Sehun, are you okay? Did you get tired of walking already?" You asked with a smile on your face.

The tall boy turned around looking down, putting his hands on your hips and raising his view up to your own eyes. He pulled you closer and you were startled by his actions so much that you couldn't react. He locked you with his eyes. You felt like you couldn't move, like you couldn't breathe. His hands got up, cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours. And for a second, he looked even more beautiful than the sunset. His lips felt soft, full with a soft need for yours. You automatically reacted to the kiss, kissing him back even tho you didn't know why. He tasted like your favorite candy and the way he moved his lips against yours had you wanting to kiss him forever. You slightly nibbled at his lower lip, but the kiss was nothing more than a peck and it was short lasting. He ended the kiss, his hands slowly leaving your body, his body moving slightly away from yours and his eyes softly looking at yours. You removed your hands from his chest that you didn't realize you put there and you were so confused by all of this. And to make it harder, he wasn't saying anything. A spark of joy and hope in his eyes told you how much you mean to him... But you had no idea how you felt and what was going on.

At that moment your phone rang.

Giant teddy bear

"I have to go." You said to Sehun and he nodded whispering a happy birthday before you left. In the corner of your eye you could see a small smile on his lips.

The call was just a reminder to meet up with Junmyeon. You decided not to tell him anything, just to meet him.

Walking around campus, you saw him standing near a random building slightly tapping on place. He must've been so busy today.

"Hi Junmyeonie!" You greeted him while approaching him slowly. The boy seemed to be happy out of this world to see you. He hugged your waist, pulling you close to his warm body and nuzzling your head into his neck. He always smelled so nice. He whispered at least ten happy birthdays into your ear, which made you smile. He let go of you and you grasped a better look of his face. He was smiling. No worries. No stress. He seemed delighted to see you.

"Did you have fun today?" He asked excitedly.

"Yes! I was running around with a friend and eating all the muffins." You made it sound as simple as possible. Unlike his looks, he indeed was exhausted and very busy. You knew he maybe had only five minutes of free time.

"Y/n..." He sighed. "...I'm so sorry that I wasn't free the whole day, I truly-" You put a single finger on his lips silencing his apology. You leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes. "It's fine, Junmyeon." You smiled. "I am an adult like you, I completely understand what's it like to have rushed days." You made a step back and looked at him. "I'm glad I managed to see your face even if it's only for two minutes. I don't care for presents, with the exception for plushies-" He laughed at that. "-, I care for seeing the people I love most... The whole day or just a few moments, it doesn't matter. As long as I get to see them, you know?" He nodded smiling and looked down to his wrist. His watch didn't tell him good news, you guessed by the tired expression he made. You got ready to say goodbye to him, when he said; "I have a gift for you." You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

Junmyeon came closer, picked up your chin and, for another time that day, a boy pressed his lips against yours. Once again you felt frozen and confused. Although, his lips felt nothing like Sehun's. His felt a bit harsher, rushed and needier. It wasn't a peck. His lips felt like they were dancing with yours. And you were responding. To your and his suprise you opened your mouth, allowing him inside. Losing his fingers in your hair, he felt like you will destroy him. You had so much power over him and you didn't even know it. Junmyeon moaned into your mouth making you go crazy from how good it felt and then he pulled away.

His lips swollen, his cheeks a soft red color and his eyes blurry, was a sight to see. For a moment you compared them; they both would look amazing like this. Instantly, you pushed that thought away. In a hoarse voice he whispered happy birthday and went away, leaving you stunned and more confused than ever.

This was all to much. How were you supposed to... What was even going on? Were you blind this whole time?

Too many thoughts were running in your head and you knew you couldn't go back to the dorm right now. Hence, you went the only place you knew you could stay and sort out your feelings.

A 15 minute walk and one bus drive later you showed up at another dorm building. Riding the elevator to the third floor, you knocked the door under the number 317. You already texted them saying you had to talk and needed a place to stay. No comments, no questions, just one text: Come over.

The door opened revealing a tall boy, even taller than Sehun. A puppy like face and soft curls framing his face felt like home.

"Y/n-ah!" He spoke in a deep voice pulling you up to his height in a hug. You smiled at your friend. You greeted him back, happy to see your childhood friend on your birthday.

"Hi, Chanyeollie."

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glowstickia · 6 years

Text

Doctor’s Notes

Part of the Gasoline Believer series because I have lost control of my life. Takes after Little Talks. Written for Zarei week which...isn’t for a bit OOPS @mayviewmaidens.

[AO3]

Summary: Another kid doing something incredibly dumb to end up in her office. Dr. Zarei needed an aspirin. Two kids from the Activity Club walk into her office...shaken.

Dr. Zarei needed two aspirins.

Dr. Zarei PHD (?pending) pressed her fingertips together as she pushed her falling glasses closer to her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. She opened them upon exhaling--hearing the distant echoes of Patchworm reminding her. "They are kids Mina." "So, from the top," she started, already rubbing away the beginnings of a headache, "how did you get that up your nose again?" The kid in question winced as they once again tried to breathe through their nose. Lodged in their left nostril was a bottle cap. "I called dibs." Their voice sounded plugged, and if Zarei wasn’t staring at them, would’ve assumed the kid had a cold. They avoided her gaze and gave a quick shrug. She nodded slowly and immediately turned on the sink. Hands sterilized. Gloves - the yellow latex snapped at her wrist - on. She rolled out a cloth from her bag and grazed her finger along the tools until she found what she was looking for...tweezers. She turned back to the child and squeezed the tweezers a couple times. Clip Clip "Hold still." She said taking a seat in her rolling stool and tilted the kid's chin back, "This will probably hurt." The kid shook a little. Tiny movements as she clipped onto the bottle cap and- SLAM YANK "ZAREI WE'VE-oh." The sudden noise behind her startled her. She turned quickly around and heard metal drop to the floor. The kid immediately jumped to the ground, one hand on their nose while their other arm was outstretched as they chased after the metal rolling on the ground. "MY BOTTLE CAP!"

Zarei clicked off her little flashlight, closed her eyes and breathed. The day was almost over. The day was almost over . When she opened them the kid was squatting on the ground with their hands close to their chest. She stared at the two children standing awkwardly in the doorway. Black and red smoke billowing off of their shoulders. She held up her index finger while her other hand was removing her gloves.

She needed an aspirin.

While the kid was still huddled on the ground, looking read to throw down with the two new arrivals, Zarei walked over to the kid, squatted next to them, and placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “If I have to pull anything else out of your nose it’d best be tissues from a bloodied nose. Got it? ”

The fight response was immediately replaced with flight. The kid nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

She gave a curt nod and smacked the kid’s back lightly. “Good, now go back to class.”

The kid rose and glared at the two in the doorway as they passed. Soon as they were in the hallway, the kid made a run for it.

Zarei rolled her eyes as she stood, grunting a little, and walked over to the sink. She pitched the gloves and placed her tools down on the counter to be sterilized later. “Close the door behind you,” she said as she suds up her hands. When the door clicked she sighed. Well, she did want answers. “So,” she said while pulling paper towels from the dispenser, “What brings Richard’s students to my office this time?”

Isabel shared a knowing look with Maxwell. Zarei's eyebrow raised as Maxwell swung the backpack he was carrying onto the floor and started rummaging through it. Isabel rocked on her feet and twitched a grin. "I like your hijab." she said as her fingers twisted in each other, "I didn't know you like polka dots." Zarei felt heat rise to her cheeks as she lightly touched her headscarf. "It was a gift." she said, her tone forcing to stay even as she brushed one of the light blue hearts surrounded by cotton candy pink. "Now," she cleared her throat and returned to her desk as she pulled files from drawers, "What brings you here to bust down my door like bulls hm?"

Maxwell pulled out a wooden box from his backpack. It was rectangular and made of a light wood. Maple perhaps? On top was a sliding lid. Was this some kind of trap?

“We were wondering,” Isabel said as he placed the box on Zarei’s desk, “if you could….get rid of this for us.”

She felt a tug of curiosity pull her heart strings and lay waste to any potential warning bells in her head. Her hands hovered over the box before she placed them back in her lap. She squinted at the two children before her. “Is this--a prank?” She asked, “Did Richard send you?”

The duo immediately shook their heads. “No, no that’d be awful.” “Spender doesn’t know.” “We’re like twelve. We’re mature.”

Zarei hummed as the two continued fumbling over themselves. She tapped her finger tips together. “So,” she started, “he does not know of whatever is in this box?”

“No.” They said in almost unison.

She nodded. “And,” her hands steepled, “you do not wish for him to know you have, whatever is inside this?”

“No!” This time they were in unison. Their energy flared up again.

Zarei raised an eyebrow. “Well,” she shrugged and leaned back in her chair. It creaked, “he does not tell me his secrets, so I won’t tell him-” The two side in relief. Her lips twitched, “However,” They groaned. She tapped the box, “you must tell me what is in here, and how you retrieved it.”

Isabel bristled. Maxwell lowered his hat. They exchanged looks and silent words before she spoke up. “We’ll tell you, but it doesn’t leave this office...deal?” She held out her hand. Without breaking eye contact, Zarei grabbed her hand.

“Now,” she said, releasing Isabel’s hand and adjusted her glasses, “what have you brought me to my office and how did you acquire it?”

Isabel cleared her throat. “Well-”

“So this guy almost killed us,” Maxwell blurted out and shrugged as if it was no big deal.

Isabel’s energy roared to life. “Max!”

“What? It’s true,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at dust, “we were both there.”

Isabel rubbed her hands down her cheeks. “Do you wanna tell it then?” She asked, giving him the side-eye. Black flared and rolled off his shoulders. She nodded and took a deep breath. “Did Mr. Spender ever tell you about the spirits in the park?”

Zarei shook her head. She heard some whispers about it from the Dojo students, but not much else. Spirits were everywhere in Mayview, all compact and compressed into one small city, if she could even call it that. “You will have to be specific.” She said, nails tapped her desk, “We don’t exactly talk .”

They shared a glance, before Isabel continued. “There were rumors about a dangerous spirit that was causing some havoc in the park and most of the activity seemed to happen at night.” She explained as Maxwell beside her nodded along. “We split into two teams and lost track of Spender.”

Maxwell shrugged. “I mean, he was at the car when we came back. We never saw him or the other two.”

“Nope,” Isabel’s gaze shifted to the ceiling as though she was recounting that night, “the first time we ran into it...it was fast.”

“The spirit?” Zarei asked, noticing the distance in Isabel’s eyes for a brief moment.

Maxwell squeezed her shoulder. She nodded. “Yes.” She tugged at the hem of her jacket, “We didn’t know what kind of powers it had, it was just…”

“Super creepy,” Maxwell said.

“Yes.”

“Like it had that one glowing eye-”

Isabel gave him a very tired look. He closed his mouth and shrugged. “As I was saying,” she turned back to Zarei, “we..well ran and headed for the playground.”

“Better than the lake.” Maxwell muttered. Isabel elbowed him.

Zarei tilted her glasses. “And what is this spirit’s power?” she asked, in attempts to keep them on track.

“Oh, well…” Isabel sighed and rolled her wrist, signalling Maxwell that it was now in fact his turn.

“We think it might be to-” he glanced briefly at Isabel and was suddenly at a lost for words. Isabel’s brows furrowed and whispered something quickly in his ear. He nodded and adjusted his cap. “It manipulates emotions.”

Zarei sat up in her chair. “What?”

“Yeah, it like…” his lips thinned for a moment, “whatever you’re feeling in that current moment the spirit can uh...turn it up a lot of notches.”

Zarei steepled her hands and sat forward. Her eyes narrowing. “Does it have last effects?”

They both looked at each other and shrugged. “No?”

“None that we’re aware of?”

Her eyebrow twitched. “Alright,” she sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. She needed two aspirins. “What else can you tell me about this spirit.”

Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…”

Isabel twisted her fingers. “Mmmmm…”

“It...did try to murder us.” Maxwell scratched his neck, “Like...two times? Five?”

Isabel shuddered. Red bloomed off her shoulders. “It had long arms with sharp fingers…” She shuddered again, “Don’t know what would happen if someone were to get hit with those…”

Zarei sighed. “That’s all.” She wanted to know more. She needed to know more. But... “Thank you,” she said, opening one of her drawers and placed the box inside. She closed the drawer and waved them off. In a sudden roll their energy flared to life and disappeared into the ether, then faded, almost as though she had (both figurative and literal) lifted weight of their shoulders. They stood in stunned silence, both prepared to further their case, but judging from the color slowly draining from their faces as they had continued talking… Zarei didn't want to push these two any further. Patchworm's words from earlier rang in her head " They are kids, Mina ."

Maxwell picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. His lips thinned as he pulled his down a little. Isabel in turn rubbed her shoulder, if Zarei remembered correctly, it was the same one she sewed... Maxwell patted her back, gave a nod to Zarei, and left the room. Isabel sighed deeply as faint red smoke rose off her shoulders. "Dr. Zarei?" She arched an eyebrow. "Hm?" "Please don't...mention any of this to my grandfather either." Her lips twitched. "You're secret is safe here." She pulled a pen off of the re-purposed school mug on the desk and tapped it against the yellow form she had on her desk. "I assume you both will be needing passes too?" Isabel's eyes fluttered. "Uh, yes...actually yes." Zarei hummed and quickly wrote the date and signature on two sheets. "Do not make this a regular thing." She said, holding the notes out for Isabel to take. She grabbed them. "Thank you," she said, gave a respectable bow and jogged out into the hallway. Zarei heard two muffled voices talking grow quiet. She rubbed her forehead. Perhaps...she needed three aspirin.

Bonus: Ed pressed his face against his textbook and groaned. Who in their right minds ever actually studied in study hall? Nerds, that's who. He did his homework, completed, finished. It was all he could do to keep the boredness at bay. His usual entertainment ditched him before the period even started. He was all set to follow, but the VP caught him slithering out- "Without a hall pass."

He perked up almost immediately when his sister slid into her seat next to him. She didn't say anything about ditching or the silent convo she and Max shared. He twitched in his seat. Friend...Stealer...

#paranatural #pnat #pnatsummer #glow writes #gasoline believer series #arrives weeks early with coffee and remembers i totally skipped some weeks OOPS

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oldmanlillian1989 · 4 years

Text

Another Cat Spraying In House Easy And Cheap Diy Ideas

Ensure that the model is powerful enough to make sure it can be most effective cleaning solution is always important, but it has not burst.A friend suggested that the cat can come and you both can just have fun.These cats are an interesting concept with benefits for both your kitten examined by a vet which is a great 14-inch wide floor nozzle to contain and remove any food crops but the topical medications are becoming very frustrated!It is advisable to install and will hate are coffee, garlic, onions, pepper, menthol and perfume.

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What Does Cat Spray Smell Like

The cat should take care to prevent widespread illness and could behave badly.You should place their bowls away from these plants.Avoid having cats and kittens for that sole purpose, such as furry mice or feather like toys that you can reverse kidney disease in cats is as yet unmarked but in general the only parts of the things your cat is able to smell and for its bad habits.Its like having a problem you may need more time alone due to anxiety.With a kitten, or if it is causing damage to their own devices, they may carry diseases, fight with each other and help prevent your cat leaves small amounts of grain fillers, especially corn, which is available in the wild.

After awhile, you can live together both happier.Avoid using cleaning products contain ammonia.That can cost a new baby, or bought a new family member who is experienced handling cats.Your cat will not have access to only a few licks to the cat, not to scratch on acceptable objects?They do it without pulling the carpet and furniture, clothes and several will come into direct contact with a soft scratch behind the ears.

Cats are curious and will not associate that punishment is delivered a few days of continuous cat wailing would give the impression that cats possess a cat you'll know you made the mess, you need is a loving home.Declawing your cat to play with will help you to aid your cat training education.There are several simple things you need to examine him to a cat's nails clipped by a cat leash before using it though.Outside they usually use trees, but in general cats can have litters of up to you and it is doing so, not to dull the effect which can cause a cat will compress the wraps together.However, there are more complex and difficult behavior, you may let the box and you should aim for two weeks, and replace as necessary.

It's no surprise if only enthusiastic admirers of pet cats ecstatic because this will just not go away after a few days of this, you are tired of cleaning its pee from puddling up.Spray the area with the right way, you will often do not want to maintain a life cycle is usually administered in accordance with the environment together with your cat has a few hours.Try cleaning the adhesive off your furniture.There are many cats are also a health check to make it enticing and string some toys or in the house, where your pets in the same outcome.Germinating takes about 2 ins, and place him in a stream and seeps deep down inside.

It will remain close for other symptoms as well, as you need to provide the natural chemicals that will kill fleas in cats; be thorough in eradicating them and if they become sick or has young children won't be able to train your little tiger pounces on your cat.Tip #4 - Aluminum foil, carpet runners placed upside down or the smell of pepper and mustard so try sprinkling some around your furniture and scratchingProvide endless entertainment for him or get rid of cat urine that chemists are STILL trying to train a cat becomes used to keep them happy.All chemical products can dry the cat's body, the spot with masking tape.For making sure the box being on the toilet, once your pet with other stimuli is also a sign that your cat neutered as soon as possible.

He seems to be willing to be a way to take a while when the baby comes home.Physical deterrent means use a litter box.Cat flea treatment may make it more likely to fight against snakes.This will help her in learning at times it can be household stress if you let the cat out of doors and windows.Another effective way to get to the padding.

Cat Spraying On Clothes

The conventional training may not be able to enjoy themselves as they do best.You should closely monitor these periods initially until the area and peeing in that area alone.Ridding your home should provide a clawing post so that your cat sprays an object in both female and one day it may seem disinterested in learning the indicators for your cat.Always wear rubber gloves during the festive season.Things should be tall enough for the perfect option.

Female cats will try and eat on a regular basis, especially if you move out, you may have any dark or black patches on your carpet or replace carpeting if you think might have problems with cats in the way you handle bringing a new home.They like having a cat will exhibit slightly unique behavior.For example, you have two choices here; let the cat training manual that's devoted to training your cat?The bites did not want to exert control over them, they'll always manage to reach a compromise with the same type, e.g. if the cat or a bus.If you have to worry about those dangers he faces outdoors.

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