#also kept thinking of this gag where she cuts a hole into glass but her ass is too big to fit thru it

[ariariarimu]

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k 

SUMMARY: in which draco and y/n are soulmates and can hear each others’ music, and you’ve been blasting sad songs all week, worrying draco. 

WARNINGS: one mean joke about americans sozzles 

A/N: based on the tiktoks where soulmates can hear each others’ music. i dont think ive seen an imagine like that on here so i thought i’d write one :)) also set in 2010s 

In the Wizarding world, on your thirteenth birthday, you are officially bound to your soulmate. This means different things for different wizards and witches, depending on what they valued. For example, when Blaise Zabini turned thirteen, he was able to see his soulmate in mirrors-- fitting considering how self-obsessed he was. 

Draco, however, heard music. You must be obsessed with it, he realised. He found out he was right pretty quickly, waking up to the sound of your playlists muffled in his ears and falling asleep to them too. 

It was always Muggle music too. You must be a half-blood, or even… Merlin forbid, a Muggle-born. Realising that his soulmate wasn’t going to be a pure-blood like his parents had planned, Draco kept the news to himself and worked on his vocabulary. He tried his best to bite his tongue around Granger, ignoring his friends when they made fun of their ‘dirty’ blood.

He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to meet you. 

It took Draco longer than it should have to realise you definitely didn’t go to Hogwarts. How could you when he’d be sat in assemblies, the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, and all he’d hear is the thumping of your music in his ears as if he was underwater?

“She’s probably an American,” Pansy pretends to gag, the others laughing with her. 

“Could be a Beauxbaton,” Blaise suggests. 

Draco doesn’t like to make assumptions, but he thinks you are definitely a Muggle. It’s rare, but not unheard of in the Wizarding world, especially nowadays. For the Malfoys, though, it would be an outrage. 

You play your music the most when he’s eating dinner in the Great Hall or when he’s getting ready for bed. 

At first, he hated it. He hated your music, he hated how his head was rarely ever quiet, and he hated that he didn’t know who you were in order to beg you to take your headphones out for once. 

However, Draco learnt to love your music. Songs and bands he’d never heard of before quickly became his favourites and eventually, he found himself humming your Muggle tunes in the common room or quietly singing along in his dorm when the other boys were out doing whatever. 

He learned to love having your music in his head, especially as the years rolled on and his life became harder and harder. It made him feel like he was never alone, your muffled melodies making a home in his head and pushing out all of his anxiety and depression. 

Draco wanted to dance with you to them. He liked to lay in bed at night and listen to your songs and imagine that you’re lying next to him. He bets you have a nice singing voice. Maybe you can even play an instrument or two. Maybe you could teach him how to play the guitar, and maybe he could show you how to play his favourite pieces on the piano. 

Your music is never too upbeat, but today Draco feels like he hasn’t heard a single song that wasn’t about being sad. As he trudged from class to class, Draco couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with you. It had been going on for the past few days, and the music stopped altogether on one of the days. 

He went to bed with an empty head for the first time in a few years, staring at his ceiling. He plugged his iPod in and went to the Muggle section, playing a few of your favourite songs. It wasn’t the same. 

“What’s up with you?” Blaise demands as Draco doesn’t touch his meal for the second time that day. 

Draco glances to his friend and looks away, shaking his head. “Mind your own business, Zabini,” he mutters weakly. 

Blaise’s soulmate, a Slytherin in the year below, joins them at sitting on the table and Blaise immediately forgets all about Draco, the two of them giggling as they hug each other. Draco thought he could throw up right there and then, shaking his head in disgust. 

Green was Draco’s colour and Merlin was he jealous. 

Why did you have to be a stupid Muggle?

Draco immediately feels bad for even thinking it. He wants to hug you and kiss the top of your head and mutter apology after apology. The soft feeling makes him feel weak. You did things to him that nobody else did, and he doesn’t even know who you were. The fact that you were most likely going through a rough time right now made it ten times worse. 

“What’s wrong with Draco?” He hears Zabini’s girl whisper. 

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Draco snaps, lip curling in disgust. “Instead of talking behind my back like a coward!”

“Draco,” Blaise growls. “I don’t know what’s up with you, mate, but you need to calm down.”

“It’s your soulmate, isn’t it?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow from opposite them. “Are they playing that rubbish song you hate on repeat again?”

“No,” Draco hisses in defence of you. “I like that song, thank you.”

Pansy holds her hands up. “Okay, whatever. Sorry, Malfoy. What has got your knickers in a twist, then?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t like talking about you to anybody else but he’s really worried and he thinks maybe one of them might be able to help. 

“She’s…” Draco’s eyes drift to burn holes in the table in front of him. “She’s been listening to sad songs.”

Goyle snorts, making Draco’s head snap to him in fury. 

“Sorry, Malfoy, sorry… But that does sound ridiculous, mate,” Goyle admits. “She’s probably just into that… genre?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco huffs and shakes his head. “You don’t know her like I do. Something’s wrong with her, I can tell.”

“Well, why don’t you visit her?” Blaise asks, grabbing a grape and popping into his mouth. 

“What?” Draco spits. “Is that a joke, Zabini? I don’t find it funny--”

“I’m not joking,” Blaise frowns. “Merlin’s sake, Malfoy. Do you not pay attention in Charms?”

“Of course I do,” Draco hesitates, lying. “But what are you talking about, anyway?”

…

Draco feels ridiculous as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathrooms later that night. It’s silent since it’s the middle of the night, but Draco knows you’re awake because of the glum music playing faintly in his ears. 

He wants to visit you like Blaise told him to do, and as he stands in front of the mirror and casts his incantations, he can’t help but wonder if this is a setup. He doesn’t give his hopes up, doesn’t hold his breath that when he opens his eyes you’ll be on the other side of the mirror. 

But he wants you to be. He wants you to be there so badly. 

Draco does sort of believe it so he put on his black turtleneck and black suit and combed his hair like usual, replacing the uniform and robes he’d been wearing all day. He doesn’t want you to see him and be disappointed. 

He knows he won’t be disappointed no matter what you look like or what you are. 

Draco takes a deep breath as he lowers his wand and closes his eyes. When he counts down and opens his eyes, he’s stunned into silence by the sight in front of him. His heart skips a beat and he nearly chokes on his own spit. 

Staring back at him in the mirror is not his own pale reflection but what looks like a bedroom. The mirror glows orange from the lighting and he can see that it’s decorated with posters and records and other Muggle things. Draco doesn’t even process that you’re a confirmed Muggle at this point, he doesn’t care enough about that. 

On a single bed in the middle of the room, sat up in the very centre with headphones in and a laptop in front of her, is a girl his age. She’s got beautiful y/s/c skin and y/c/h locks that have been thrown up into a messy bun, her y/c/e trained on the screen in front of her as she watches what he assumes is a film or a tv show. 

She’s wearing a school uniform, not quite as posh as Hogwarts’, and it’s slightly crumpled from sitting in her bed with it on. Her polished black shoes are nowhere to be seen, rips in the bottom of her tights no doubt from wearing them thin five days a week. 

Draco can’t believe he’s looking at you right now. He reaches his hand out, eyes widening when his fingers seem to slip past the glass and he’s sucked into another world-- your world. He wasn’t expecting it to happen, a small yelp leaving his lips as he tumbles straight out of the mirror hanging on your wall and onto your carpet. 

You both scream as you make eye contact and you’ve thrown your laptop about in a panic. There’s no music in his ears now that he stands in front of you. Draco breathes heavily, unsure what to say. 

“Um, hello?” He offers. 

“What the hell?” You yell. “What are you doing in my bedroom? Who are you? My laptop!”

You ignore him as you dive off of the bed and pick it up. The screen is smashed making you glare at him harder. 

“I’m sorry!” Draco practically squeaks. “I- I have Galleons--”

“Who are you?” You cut him off roughly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Draco keeps repeating, hoping you will calm down. “I-I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” You repeat with a mocking laugh. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” he replies, voice pitched higher than usual with offence. “What’s your name?”

Normally you wouldn’t tell a stranger your name, but this situation is anything but normal. You stare at the boy for a few seconds, wondering why he feels familiar. There’s something about him that has you relaxing under his gaze, which is weird because he literally just appeared out of nowhere. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you reply sceptically. 

Draco smiles, “beautiful name.”

“Are you like a nonce or something?”

“Nonce?” Draco crinkles his nose in confusion. 

You narrow your brows at him. “You’re literally British-- how do you not know what that means?”

“I’m not… I don’t really come from your kind of England,” Draco doesn’t know how to explain there is an entire world she’s been hidden from-- this is the first Muggle he’s ever had a conversation with. 

“Are you Welsh?” 

“Do I sound Welsh to you?” Draco cocks his head to the side, already amused. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, not gonna lie,” you reply. “But no. I’m sure you’re English. You sound like you’re a private school kid or something.”

“I guess I am,” Draco replies quietly, looking around your bedroom and taking in all of the colours that it has. 

You seem to snap out of whatever daze you were in. “Hey! You distracted me. Now tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bedroom before I call the police.”

Draco’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he contemplates his next words. He hesitates and sits down on your bed next to you. You can smell his cologne-- it smells much more expensive than the Lynx sprays the boys at college seem to be obsessed with. 

“Do you ever hear music in your ears?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in conformation. “You do. That’s… that’s me. My music. I hear your music too. You listen to it all the time. Um… normally a lot of bands and stuff.”

There’s a long silence. “Do you have me on Spotify?”

“What’s Spotify?” Draco’s nose crinkles. 

“You probably just see what I listen to on Spotify!” You claim, standing up as you become weary of the boy on your bed. 

Draco still doesn’t quite understand your Muggle terminology, but he gets the gist of what you’re trying to imply. 

“That doesn’t explain the music you hear in your head from me,” Draco tries. “Or how I just came out of your mirror.”

You look overwhelmed. “What are you?” You whisper. 

“We, Y/N, are soulmates.”

...

yuh

PART TWO HERE

[xwasted-days]

𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 || 𝖇.𝖍.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

A/N: It’s probably been done before, but I wanted to throw together a little song-fic based on Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars. I’m sappy and I like sad things. Also, this is my first tumblr fic, pls be nice. Requests are open and I have no tag-list, because it’s a new blog. 

Work Count: 2, 276

Complete Story Warnings: Major Character Death, Pure Angst, 10/10 sad. Also, probably language. 

The battle of Starcourt was turning in favor of the party and all therein, but war was never without casualty. 

Billy Hargrove had a questionable character and reputation among most in Hawkins. People wanted him as a friend or a fuck, and those that didn’t wanted him gone. Few succeeded in ever knowing Billy as more than the sad little king of his sad little hill, and even fewer knew the plights he faced at home. A minimal two: Max, the step sister, and Y/N, the girlfriend, who rushed into the center of the mall behind Mike Wheeler, unable to help as Billy threw himself in El’s path. Y/N moved before her mind could register: scrambling forward when Billy caught the mindflayer’s clawed gullet in his hands. Those beautiful, calloused hands with the feather-soft touch. She took another step forward, faltering as a tentacle dug into his left side, the sickening crunch of torn flesh and splintering ribs echoing in the building silence. The second hit came and she rushed forward again, slipping on fragments of broken glass. Y/N’s knees hit the ground hard, the sharp sting barely registering as the hits kept coming, clawing all around his torso. He screamed each time, every cry cutting off in a strangled garble at the sharp shock of another tentacle landing its blows. Billy screamed, daring the monster on, and Y/N screamed, begging it all to stop. 

The final blow landed in the center of Billy’s chest, silencing him. Max’s scream sounded somewhere behind her. 

As the mindflayer pulled away, thrashing, snarling, wailing in defeat, Y/N ran forward, slipping in rapidly pooling blood as she pulled Billy to her chest. 

I remember tears streaming down your face, when I said, “I’ll never let you go.”

The words, even as they left Y/N’s lips, felt like the deepest and most real thing she’d expressed since the moment he was taken by the mindflayer. 

Since the darkness had fallen over Hawkins, she’d felt vacant, plastic, unreal. She supposed the notion came first when Barb had gone missing; when the trio of sub-popular girls was first fractured. Everything seemed to fall apart until Y/N found out what really happened to Barb, what was haunting Will Byers, and what hunted the people of Hawkins.  

Life was a ceaseless ebb and flow of highs and lows; still, she never expected the tide to pull away as it was now. Nothing could compare to this feeling: her boyfriend tucked in her arms, fading away before her, was what would cause the tidal wave to break. 

Cool and fragile, the rapid thundering of his heart beneath Y/N’s palm, the salt of crystalline tears sliding off his angled pale, cheek, his hand gripping her arm as he clung to waning life. Billy opened his mouth, hoping for any words to form. None did. He felt the pain with each blow, but as the creature yanked itself away and Billy fell, there was no sensation. Nothing but an icy numbness. After his mom left, Billy prayed for nothing more than to lose his feeling, and now it was gone he wanted it back. 

He wanted it back because he wanted to stay with her. He’d always known he was a selfish bastard, but this instance wasn’t for himself. It was for her; his Y/N. The only girl he gave a shit about for longer than one night at a time. And now, he was going to lose her. “..I-” he struggled again, shivering in her arms. 

When all those shadows almost killed your light

“Shh,” Y/N cooed, bringing her hand up to brush sweaty, blonde curls off of his forehead, ignoring the scene that played out around them. Billy was never meant to get caught in this crossfire; he was meant to be as he always was: cocky, stupid, young and reckless. Seated atop his lifeguard seat, staring out over the crowds of Hawkins Community Pool as a king surveyed his kingdom. Instead, he was out there, vulnerable to to the upside down, taken as so many others had been.

Y/N glanced down at the gaping, bloody hole that forced the pale colored fabric of the shirt at Billy’s chest to dip inward, the rich, viscous, and sickly stain making her stomach churn. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, a meager attempt at staunching her tears as she played strong for Billy’s sake. She felt his hand at her arm give a squeeze, her attentions drawing back toward the boy in her lap. Y/E/C eyes connecting to Billy’s steely blue ones again, she offered a shaky smile, her thumb smoothing along the arch of his cheek. 

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone…"

Billy’s voice was soft and hoarse, barely audible as the commotion of the party and the mindflayer fizzled on around them. The fair haired, beautiful boy Y/N had fallen so deeply for let out a soft grunt of protest at the ache, his body twitching involuntarily as pain coursed through him.

“Think you can get rid of me that easily, ya little shit?” Y/N asked with a gentle chuckle, keeping her shaky grin to ease Billy’s worry. Her tears flowed more freely now, slipping down her cheeks as she held him close. “Gotta try a whole helluva lot harder than that, Hargrove. You and me. California, remember?” 

The broken king of Hawkins High put on a woozy, pale-lipped smile and hiccupped on a sob, coughing after. A soft mist of blood peppered his lips and chin, staining his teeth crimson. California, their would-be paradise, far away from Indiana and all their worries. He’d sworn up and down that they would leave one day, go back to his home and flourish in ways unimaginable. His promise now seemed as broken as he was. He was fading. Y/N didn’t have enough time.

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight.

The flutter of Billy’s heart was growing more and more faint, and the beats, which willed themselves with great difficulty, grew slower and slower in their efforts. 

Billy leaned his weight further into Y/N’s body, slack and woozy. All the coherency in his head fading. She had promised that wouldn’t leave, said she wouldn’t let go, but she had. Or hadn’t she? He could hardly tell, his vision fading in and out, gleams of purple and pink, the hazy sound of distant chatter. Billy felt his chest heave with a great gasp, and his jaw open and close with the effort of breath. It happened again, and again. He felt hands on his arms, squeezing, but he couldn’t register the effect of the sensation. He was cold, so cold. He wished so vehemently that he could ask Y/N what was going on, but Billy couldn’t seem to find his tongue. 

That’s a first, he thought, trying to squeeze back the person in his numbed fingers. Every bit of him was so cold, probably frozen from where he had been, lost in darkness with the delicate snowfall. He was sure another erratic breath would leave him in shards. His head lulled to the side, hardly-seeing eyes registering the plume of Y/H/C and a small streak of fiery red. He searched between them, hoping to register on either of the faces that peered down on him, but none came. He coughed, gagging on something oozing in his throat, feeling hands tighten and voices raise. 

Soft curls of blonde hair fell over her his forehead, even as Y/N pushed them away, shifting his weight so Billy’s head was more firmly pressed to her chest. He was growing more and more still, even as she and Max begged him to stay. The girl took a breath, fighting down the body-trembling sob that wedged in her throat. “Billy? Wake up, Billy, please?” She asked, watching a tear of her own fall down to slip against his cheek, rolling down onto his stubbled chin.

Billy took a deep, shuddering breath, so loud he scared himself. He'd forgotten to breathe, and the muted voices he heard in his haze kept him there. Her voice. The voice he listened to in the quiet solitude of a shared bedroom, or in the crowded halls of Hawkins High. The voice he grew to love before he could even remember what love felt like. The voice he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

He blinked, trying to clear the tears in his eyes, focusing on Y/N and Max hovering above him.

“....I’m sorry.” Billy shuddered as his eyes glossed over,  a sudden cloud overtaking his vision. The clarity of the world was fading into shapes, then shadows, and careening rapidly into darkness. There was a loud bang somewhere near him and had he retained the strength, he would have jumped. Another bang. And another. One, two. One, two. One. Two. One. Two, each pair of beats getting further and further apart. Billy breathed out, defeated, overcome by the realization that those noises were thuds of his heart stopping. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel, he couldn’t taste anything but the heavy black goop on his tongue, he could only smell the coppery, acrid stink of blood that clogged his sinuses. All that was left was hearing; Billy was caught listening to the terrible, awful rhythm of his once-small heart, stopping. He listened again, hoping to hear the voices, praying they would draw him out of it, but there was no sound. Nothing. Not even the beating of his heart. Just his remaining consciousness, slowly going black. Billy Hargrove was dead, he knew. He wanted to scream, to panic and cry, but nothing was there. 

He didn't see the light that everyone blathered about, he didn't feel the peace. He was the hollow, lifeless shell of a boy who could have been more than a lifeguard with an attitude problem. And he was dead. And he left her behind. 

His beautiful Y/N, whose voice and smiles and touches were forfeit to the darkness that consumed. 

Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone. 

Y/N  felt the final, sickening beat of Billy’s heart beneath her hand. Another tear fell onto Billy’s face, then another. And another. Max whispered, begging her step brother to wake, her small hands shaking his bloodied shoulders to no avail. A hard, broken, centuries old sob tore through Y/N’s chest and echoed through the mall; the cry of everyone who had lost someone they loved for good. The cry that begged death to return a loved one to the land of the living that always fell on deaf ears. 

“Billy, please,” she whimpered, trembling fingers soothing the lifeless skin of the boy she loved. Every thought, hope, wish, and dream connected to him was gone, dead as he was. 

Jagged orange patterns began to dance on the ground all around them, and offered the girl nothing but a ghastly illumination along her lost lover’s gaunt, pale face. It made him look hollow, as if no happiness, no mischief, no curiosity had once been lurking behind those coy, gorgeous eyelids. His once tanned, golden flesh was sickly and pale, the adonis within snuffed out forever. Y/N  snarled and sobbed hard, holding Billy closer, hiding him from the sickening yellowed light of the fire that grew.

She heard feet scramble around as the party gathered, their footfalls echoing like hard beat of the drums of war.

Villains never prevailed. Heroes never lived. No one was ever truly saved. Y/N’s shoulders caved and shook as she sobbed, broken and holding onto Billy’s body. Stifling a hiccup, she sighed sadly and started humming and rocking him back and forth; their song mumbled on tear-stained lips. She was chained to her place on the ground, lost. 

She didn’t see the others there, she couldn’t hear their words. She didn’t take notice when Max hid her face in El’s shoulder and sobbed for her lost brother.  

The world around her was crumbling into vacant nothingness and Y/N felt herself heave with another sob. She leaned back, her blood stained fingers gently brushing the infallible, pure flesh of Billy’s cold cheek, smoothing the tears she’d left there away with another broken whimper. “I love you…” She whispered longingly, her voice needy and raspy. 

A hand pressed to Y/N’s shoulder. It didn’t matter whose it was. It wasn’t his. And she hated that it pulled her back. The distant thrum of helicopters rattling in the skies, the sobs that left Max as she cried, the soft sniffles that sounded from El as she sat in mourning solidarity with her friend. Steve’s voice low as sirens began to wail in the streets. 

“Y/N. We gotta go,” Steve said, joined at her flank by Robin, whose thin hand came to rest on Y/N’s arm. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave him. Another sob leaving her, Robin leaned forward to rest her head on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing her arm gently as she could, tears flooding her own eyes as she looked across to Steve’s battered face. 

Harrington hated Hargrove with all he had, but he didn’t deserve this. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Nostrils quivering as he fought to keep strong, he gave Robin a solemn nod. Together, they helped place Billy on the ground where he fell and pull Y/N back, consoling her as she cried. 

Just close your eyes. The sun is going down You'll be alright.  No one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Family Man

Chapter 3: The New Family

Summary: Reader is hit by an important holiday.

Your room was getting darker by the hour, but you made no move to turn on a light. It almost seemed fitting to sit in the dark. Matched your mood.

How did you not know? You were always so good at tracking time. Always so careful. The holidays had been your job when it was just you and Josh. He would work like crazy and you would do the shopping and cooking. You preferred it that way. When your parents were alive, your mom always had tried to help you in the kitchen. And while you love her and missed her, it had always felt claustrophobic having someone else in there with you. As if they were always in your way no matter how hard they tried.

So Josh would work and you would cook.

You sighed as you leaned against your bed, your butt slowly becoming numb from sitting on the floor. It was the missions that had done it: made you lost track of the days. And sure, you were slowly starting to see the Avengers as friends. But holidays were different. The holidays were family affairs.

“No need to rush with the equipment, kid.” Tony had told you earlier that day. “Evil may not take a day off, but we do.”

“What are you talking about? We always have a few days off between missions, Stark.”

He stopped and blinked at you. “Are you- are you serious?”

You paused in your actions, taking in Tony’s shocked look. “What?”

Sam had popped up behind you and stuck a balloon to your head. This had been a running gag for the Three Stooges every since you had confessed to helping Nat and Clint that one fateful night.

“It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, Balloon Bandit!” He said with his signature laugh.

“Wait, it is?” Your jaw dropped.

“Yeah, didn’t you get the email?” Bucky joked as he walked in with Steve.

With that small exchange came the tightness in your chest. You put your equipment bag down and excused yourself, running to your room.

And there you had hidden since that morning, trying not to cry over your first holiday without Josh.

There was a knock on the door followed by the voice of your best friend. “Hey, Kiddo. We’re almost done here. Do you need a ride into town?”

You forced yourself to keep a steady voice. “No thanks, Hawkbutt. I’m staying here.”

There was a long pause. “You’re going to what?”

A sigh. “Stay here. I got rid of my apartment once your circus convinced me to stay.”

“Oh hell no. Nat!” His footsteps quickly ran from your door. You had no idea what thoughts sprouted in Clint’s head, but you didn’t think anything good would come from it.

You weren’t given long to contemplate before there was angry pounding on your door. “Get packed, Kiddo! We’re leaving in five!”

“Nat, I already told Birdbrain I’m staying here.”

“Like hell you are. Be out here in five minutes or I’m breaking the door down! And I won’t need Tin Man’s tools! So get packed! And bring a jacket!”

Of course, you weren’t stupid enough to argue with Nat once she got in one of these moods. So you quickly packed a weekend bag and grabbed your brown leather jacket. You had no idea where you were going, but you guessed it beat sitting in an empty compound for the rest of the week.

In the common room, it was clear everyone else on the team had left except Nat and Clint. “Alright, what’s this all about?”

Nat ignored your question. “Nice jacket. Very Indian Jones vibe.”

“Thanks. It was Josh’s.”

Clint and Nat exchanged a look before Clint spoke up. “Yup, this is the right choice. Let’s go, Kiddo. The Quinjet awaits.”

“Wait, what?”

No further explanation was given as the two dragged you onto the jet. The two remained cryptic during the entire flight, asking what types of food and drinks you liked, ignoring any questions you had on where you were going. And outside the jet, the scenery changed from busy cities to smaller towns, until finally giving away to farmlands.

Clint landed the plane in a field by a farmhouse that seemed cut off from everything else. “Ok, all you hitchhikers. We’re here!”

“And where the hell is here, Barton?” You stood up from your seat and grabbed your bag.

“You’ll see,” he winked as he and Nat exited the jet.

Sighing, you followed after them. Outside the air was crisp with the promise of autumn air, the trees surrounding the field halfway between orange, brown, red leaves, and some completely bare of any leaves. There was a barn off to one side where you could hear a few animals stirring, no doubt being kept inside to keep warm. The farmhouse was a faded yellow with a huge wrap around porch, with a porch swing on one end.

Clint was already at the door and Nat looked back at you from the porch steps. “Better hurry up, ____. Or there won’t be any food left.”

You furrowed your eyes in confusion but followed after. Inside the house was a chaos of kids running up to greet Clint and Nat as they stepped further into the house. You hung back as they got their hugs in before a woman stepped in to hug Nat and kiss Clint. This must be his wife, Laura. Which would make the brood his.

The room became awkwardly quiet as everyone finally noticed your presence. You cleared your throat and waved. “Hi. Sorry to intrude. I had no idea where I was being dragged to.”

Recognition flashed in Laura’s eyes. “Oh, you must be ____! I’m glad you were able to join us after all!”

You looked at Clint and raised an eyebrow. He looked away sheepishly. “They, uh, weren’t given an option. But I couldn’t leave them to spend the week alone.”

Laura just nodded her head and came over, her hand reaching out. “I’m Laura. I usually hug when I greet people, but Clint told me you may not be ready yet.”

You shook her hand as your face grew warm. “Um, yeah. Sorry again to intrude on your family time.”

Laura smiled. “Honey, you are family now. Nat comes to every holiday since she also doesn’t have any family and now you’ve been welcomed in. Clint told me everything and I can’t stand the idea of someone not enjoying any homemade food or family time.”

Your face grew hot and your eyes shot down to your shoes. “Uh, thanks. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Laura gently reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me into the kitchen? We’ll get you a drink and maybe you can lend a hand with dessert?”

“Uh, yeah. That would be great.” In the kitchen, she handed you a glass of wine. “Thank you. What, uh, what did you need help with?”

Laura blushed. “I’m embarrassed to say, but I forgot to make dessert. Would you possibly make something?”

“Yeah, sure. I love to cook. Is there anything I should know?”

“Only one thing. Our youngest, Nathan, is allergic to pumpkin so as long as it doesn’t have that you’re fine.”

You smiled at Laura. “I think I have an idea.”

As you slowly moved around the Barton’s kitchen taking inventory and grabbing equipment, Clint sat at the table to have a quiet conversation with Nat and Laura.

“Sorry this was so last minute, Laura. We had no idea they didn’t have any plans until today. They still has a hard time opening up about Josh in regards to certain things.”

“It’s quite alright, Clint. With what you’ve told me about them, they needs all the love we can give.”

Nat smiled over her glass of wine. “Whatcha making over there, KIddo?”

You glanced up with a smile. “Sorry, you’ll have to wait for Thanksgiving tomorrow to find out.”

Clint’s jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s just cruel.”

That night, Laura lead you upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. “Sorry, we don’t have more guest rooms, but I promise the bed is very comfortable.”

The room was nice with one bed in the middle and a dresser across the room. A rocker sat next to the closet. It was very quaint.

“Where will Nat sleep?”

“In Cooper’s room. We’re having the boys double up.”

“Oh,” you put your bag down by the bed and felt embarrassed that you had caused one of the kids to move rooms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to misplace anyone by being here.”

Laura looked at you, her eyes softening. She slowly approached and placed her hands on your shoulders. “It’s nothing the boys can’t handle for one weekend. You’re family now and we want to give you the space you need to feel comfortable here at your own pace. Because this home is yours as well. Anytime you need space from the team, our door is open. No questions asked.”

Your face cracked and Laura instantly pulled you in as you cried. “But why? You don’t even know me.”

“I do. Because Clint does. He told me everything and if you hadn’t been an adult, I would have told him we were adopting you. I will not have a sweet person like you out there on your own. We can’t ever be Josh, but we hope we can fill the hole a little bit.”

You pulled back and Laura gently wiped your tears away. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now get some rest. We have a big day of eating tomorrow.”

You laughed and then sniffed away the last of your tears. “Will do.”

The next day, Laura was busy in the kitchen and wouldn’t let you help, insisting you had done enough by making the dessert for later. So you wandered around the house until you ended up outside where Clint was teaching his daughter how to use a bow and arrow while his boys were chasing each other all over the vast field.

“Sleep well?”

You looked over to find Nat on the porch swing. Nodding your head, you sat down next to her. “Laura was right: that bed was really comfortable.”

Nat handed you a glass. “Eggnog?”

You raised an eyebrow but took the glass. “Isn’t it a little early?”

She laughed quietly. “First of all, there are no rules on a holiday. Second, this is the kid-friendly kind. We safe the bourbon one for after the kids go down.”

“Good call.”

Clint looked over to watch you both laugh. “Hey, is that the glass Laura brought out for me?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You took a deliberate sip as you looked at him.

He narrowed his eyes as you and Nat busted out laughing.

The morning went quickly and soon you were back inside gathering around the kitchen and the dining table. You made your way over to Clint and handing him a glass of eggnog.

“Peace offering.”

He chuckled. “Accepted.”

“Thanks for dragging me out of the compound. I’d probably be sulking in my room right now, wondering if it was worth it to steal Bucky’s snacks.”

Clint belly laughed at that. “Not gonna lie, that would have been hilarious to hear about from Nat. And see the pictures of you running from him.”

“Traitor.”

“Seriously though, kid. I’m glad you came. You’ve become like a sibling to me and Nat and I would never forgive myself if we had left you alone.”

There was a pause from you. “I’m still not telling you what the dessert is.”

“Damnit!”

The meal went quicker than you expected and soon you were bringing out your contribution.

“A pie?” Clint looked at you incredulously. “You hid a pie from us?”

“Not just any pie.” You plopped a slice onto a plate and handed it to him. “Caramel apple. Our mother’s recipe. She would make this every year for us.”

It was quiet around the table before Clint spoke up. “Thank you for sharing this with us.”

You gave him a soft smile. “It’s like you said: we’re family now.”

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: idol!hueningkai x reader

GENRE: idol au, f2l au, fluff

WC.1,800+

WARNINGS: none!

SYNOPSIS: He’s had a crush on you for quite a while, which was his sole reason he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Secondly, with some newfound confidence, he has the courage to tell you how he truly feels. Ah, young love...

.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Kai groaned. Taehyun chuckled, patting him on the back, “Hey, at least we’re done performing for today.”

He was insanely sweaty, tired, and drained of energy. Thankfully, a soothing, calming haze soon slowly encompassed him. He stepped into the performer’s waiting room, immediately sliding onto the cold floor, refusing to get up. However, the second he saw you saunter in, your group trailing closely behind, all his lost energy quickly returned to him. You seemed so eager, full of light, and prepared to perform, it made him grin.

He kept to himself, mindlessly scrolling through his phone in the far corner of the room, but all he could think of was the soft, melodious laugh escaping your lips. He toyed with the hem of his shirt, cringing at his obvious, longing stare but he couldn’t help it. He wished he could gather any semblance of confidence, he truly wanted to converse with you, but his big, fat, stupid crush prevented him. He thought of the way you lit up a room just by smiling, the way you effortlessly commanded attention, and the way you smelled like strawber—

“Jesus, Kai... stop staring. It’s creeping me and everyone else out,” Taehyun pointedly stated. He raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue, teasing the younger for his not-so-little crush.

Kai immediately snapped out of his trance, too lost in his mind to even notice he was openly staring, “Oh, shit. Y/N didn’t see me, right...”

He didn’t know why he asked, your back faced him. He couldn’t see your face but he could still picture your bright, lovely smile. Taehyun rolled his eyes, “Y/N’s too preoccupied with Yeonjun’s story. You’re fine.”

Kai exhaled a deep sigh of relief and tried to train his mind anywhere else, but that task proved difficult whenever you were in his general vicinity. He yearningly watched you twirl around, your hair whirling with you — practically in slow motion. He hummed, heart practically shooting out of his eyes. Subsequently, Taehyun gagged. You had Kai wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know.

You, on the other hand, suspiciously backed away from your group, hoping they wouldn’t notice your missing presence. Your clicking heel didn’t aid in your effort, but you succeeded nonetheless. He studied you intently as your gaze darted around the room, making sure no one saw you. He narrowed his eyes, you seemed nasty, fishy, easily intriguing him.

Yes, being an idol was difficult, but being an idol at an award show... the worst.

You couldn’t do anything! You couldn’t interact with other idols, you couldn’t talk too much, and most importantly, you couldn’t eat until after performing. Honestly, it made sense considering your... graceless snacking habit; you’d likely ruin your perfect, flawless makeup. However, you were stubborn and an avid rule breaker, thus you slowly crept to the snack table, hoping to steal the donut you kept an eye on. You were so close, your fingertip grazing the puffy, saccharine dessert, however, at that moment, your group’s name was announced over the intercom. You jumped and screeched, accidentally squashing the donut in the process; jelly and powdered sugar stuck to your hand. You winced. You flicked your gaze around the room, hoping no one had seen your embarrassment, and when you deemed the coast clear, you calmed. He chuckled, amused by your reaction — you failed to notice his stare. You adorably pouted, making him swoon, before trudging out into the hallway to meet the rest of your group. He followed suit, his own group getting directed into the audience.

He strolled past you as you chatted amongst yourself, secretly hoping you’d notice him. He had an important question to ask, as earlier in the day, he decided to ask you on a date. However, he found himself slowly losing confidence as the day passed. As he walked by, feeling defeated, your eyes strayed onto his broad back, noticing an unzipped gap on the side of his shirt, yet he seemed to pay no mind.

“Hey! Kai!” you yelled across the boisterous hallway. He instantly spun around, arguably too quickly, at your call — your soft, silvery voice was absolute music to his ears. He flashed you a shy smile, it made your heart race a bit faster. You weaved through the buzzing crowd, stumbling right as you landed in front of him. He caught you easily, steadying you with his hand — he hoped you didn’t notice the clamminess, it was embarrassing. He quickly pulled his hand back, conspicuously wiping it against his silk shirt.

“Sorry, I just wanted to let you know your shirt has a hole on the side,” you mumbled softly. His mouth gaped slightly, he hoped it wasn’t like that on stage.

“God, that’s embarrassing.”

He tried grabbing the side of his shirt, but when he couldn’t locate the gap, he began spinning in place, eagerly grasping at his shirt. You couldn’t help but giggle at his resemblance to a golden retriever chasing its tail, he was just too adorable. You firmly planted a hand on his shoulder to stop him, making him blush furiously. You reached out the fiddle with the zipper on his shirt, hoping your breathing remained in check — it was the closest you’d ever stood to him. You focused intently, taking your sweet time as he studied you with a half-smile, too intimidated by your close proximity to speak. You had created a personal, little bubble and you didn’t want to pull away. You glanced up but he hid his face, shifting away from you. He felt nervous, he tried focusing on his group as they interacted amongst each other. He loved talking to you, despite his nervousness, though it was rare. You liked award shows, it allowed you to speak to him... you might’ve been from the same company but you didn’t get much time to interact.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he got cut off by your groupmate calling your name. She tilted her head toward the stage, silently telling you to hurry along. You smoothed over his shirt once more, flashing him a bright smile and cheeky wink before walking away. His breath caught in his throat.

“Good luck, Y/N. Break a leg...” he choked out, unsure of if you heard him or not.

· ──────────────────── ·

Per usual, the spotlight felt invigorating. You adored performing, it gave you a slight buzz, a rush.

Kai obnoxiously cheered as often as he could, though he couldn’t contain his blush as you turned in his direction. He tried his best to keep calm, if he wasn’t cheering, especially due to all the cameras surrounding him, but on the inside, his heart soared. He felt prideful. Your group had won an award that night — two, actually — and while you felt grateful, you couldn’t help but squeal at the sight of food, a bit more excited about that than a trophy. You were quick to leave the stage, choosing your ending ment carefully yet timely, you just really wanted that donut. Your group dispersed around the building while you made an instant beeline for the snack bar. You savored your donut, unhindered, too distracted by the sugary taste to notice the door opening.

“Hey, Y/N...”

You turned toward the sound, mouth full of food. When you landed on Kai’s angelic face, you harshly swallowed and mustered up a sheepish smile, embarrassed that he caught you in the act. He chuckled softly, aware of your love for food; in fact, he’d held a lot of conversations with you in the company’s cafeteria, late into the night. You enjoyed sneaking down to grab a midnight snack after dance practice, and more often than not, Kai was also there enjoying a glass of banana milk. He made sure to be there around the same time as you, and while you scratched it off as a mere coincidence, in reality, he came to see you.

During your pre-performance meeting, he felt the courage to ask you on a date, but he got cut off. Of course, he was nervous as well, you were just too pretty. However, he quickly pushed past that fear, and in that moment, he thought it a better time than not.

“Hey, Y/N... I’ve been meaning to say something,” he mumbled, fidgeting with a loose thread hanging from his sleeve. You noted his discomfort, easily concerning you. You reached your hand out, but before you could say anything, he continued, “... I’d like to take you on a date.”

He timidly chewed on his bottom lip, awaiting your response. You couldn’t help but giggle at his adorable awkwardness which made him panic. You quickly stifled your laugh when you saw his eyes widen, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Yes, yes, of course! I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that... that’s why I’m always at the cafeteria at night... to see you.”

You stared at the floor, feeling shy after your confession. His heart skipped a beat and he instinctively clutched your hand in his. He smiled at you and leaned in, though you could sense his hesitation. After all, he was young and relatively inexperienced. You took the next step, leaning in closer to where your lips barely grazed his when Yeonjun strutted through the door while humming a song, completely unaware of the private moment you were sharing. Yeonjun grabbed his bottle and began chugging, but his gaze slowly fell to your entwined hands and he promptly choked on his water. He mumbled an apology, clumsily stumbling back out into the hallway, but not before sending Kai a knowing wink — he made a mental note to tease the younger as soon as they returned home.

Kai’s eyes widened comically, obvious blush painting his cheeks, meanwhile, you laughed at the secondhand embarrassment. As he processed, you leaned forward to place a kiss on each cheek, leaving him a flustered mess. He dropped your hand to place his on your waist, pulling you in closer. You closed the gap before he could dwell on his anxiousness to press a haste kiss on his soft lips; kissing you felt better than he could’ve imagined — he’d thought about it a lot — and he became hesitant to pull away. You tugged his shirt closer, telling him to keep going, so he relaxed and melted into your soothing touch. He eventually pulled away, keeping his head hovered above your own and pressed a light kiss to your forehead. He joined your hands once more, bringing them against his chest to place against his heart. 

He hummed contently, feeling on top of the world.

[glacecakes]

Ocean Waves and Glittering Sand

The gang decides to take a beach day in between trials.

No warnings! This is pure 100% fluff. I wrote this for @honeyxmonkey thank you so much for the other fic ilysm QAQ I hope I did your prompt justice!!

Read more on AO3

“Run that by me again. We’re doing what now?” Varian asked.

“We’re going to the beach!” Yong said, scuttling around as he prepared his bag. “You know, it’s got sand, and water, and sun?”

“I know what the beach is. Just… why are we going to the beach?”

Varian had just woken up, expecting to find himself the first one awake. With any luck, he could get a kick start on reading his mother’s journal and messing with some theories. The sun had just barely risen, the dew already evaporating. Today was going to be bright and hot, he could feel it in his bones.

Varian stepped out of his tent, mind booting up for the day, only to find everyone else awake and packing bags. Not emergency “We���ve been compromised we have to leave now” bags, no no no. That would make sense. Instead Nuru had thrown a swimsuit and shirt at Varian and told him to get changed.

Nuru looked up from where she was folding up her towel. “Why not?” She responded, shouldering her bag. “We’ve been working really hard, we could use a break.”

That was true. They’d just completed the 4th trial and were heading towards the Dark Kingdom, a good three months away. From what Rapunzel told him, this stretch of their quest would not be easy. So it made sense they wanted an easy day before things got hectic again.

Still… Varian’s idea of an easy day seemed wildly different from theirs. He looked to Hugo for help. Surely he’d understand that Varian wanted to work today.

“What do you have against the beach, goggles?” Hugo asked, walking up and dumping a sunhat on Varian’s head. “I know you hate the sun like every other vampire, but it could do you some good.”

The betrayal was unreal.

“Screw off,” The younger alchemist muttered good naturedly. “I don’t hate the beach, but…”

Hugo raised an eyebrow. “But?”

This was a losing battle, it seemed. Varian let out a sigh of defeat. “But nothing,” he grumbled. “I guess we’re going to the beach.” The other three let out a collective cheer.

The sun beat down on sandy shores and crystalline water, and Varian wondered why he ever complained in the first place.

The beach was gorgeous, he had to give props to the others for finding it. Even though it was still early a good number of people seemed to have had the same idea.

“Last one in the water has to bathe Ruddiger!” Yong called, preparing to rush into the water. He was stopped when Varian grabbed his arm.

“Sunscreen first, Yong. Then last one in the water can bathe Ruddiger.” Yong pouted, but didn’t complain as he covered himself. Varian did the same, watching amused as Yong shot into the water like a rocket.

“Hey, Hugo, can you come get my back?” Varian asked, turning to where he and Nuru were setting up the towels. Hugo smirked and sauntered over, and Varian regretted it instantly.

“No pictures on my back.” He warned. “Or I will kill you.”

“Oh please, like you would even try.”

“Spite is a powerful motivator.”

Hugo rolled his eyes but said nothing. “There, go chase Yong or whatever.”

“It’s too early to get in the water.” Varian responded, walking over to their setup. Nuru had gone to follow Yong, so it was just him. He plopped down on his stomach, grabbing his mom’s journal and placing it in front of him. He still wanted to get a little work done.

To his left, Hugo had also decided to stay out of the water, but instead of working decided to build a sand castle. Varian couldn’t help himself, he kept straying from the book, instead watching Hugo work out of the corner of his eye. He stared as Hugo stuck out his tongue in concentration, using the wetter sand as mortar as the castle grew an impressive amount.

For a while, they stayed like this, silently enjoying each other’s presence as they did their own thing. It was a stark contrast to their usual arguments, but not unwelcome. We should do this kind of stuff more often, Varian thought. It’s a hell of a way to the next trial, so it’s not like we can’t have a little fun.

His musings were cut short when a large teen, burly and brash, ran straight through Hugo’s hard work. His feet collided with the sand, sending it everywhere, including into Hugo’s face. He gagged as sand entered his mouth.

“Watch it!” He yelled, and the teen turned back to give Hugo the finger before bolting off.

The annoyed look on his face was too much. Varian fought to hide his snickers behind his book. Hugo sent him a glare.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you?” He hissed, no actual bite behind his words. His eyes flashed with mirth, but his lips were pressed into an over exaggerated pout.

Varian let a laugh escape him. “Yes, very much so,” He teased. He sat up. “Need some help rebuilding it?”

“Yea, and I got an idea.”

Varian raised his eyebrow with a challenging smirk.

-

The next hour was not nearly as quiet as the previous, instead filled with laughter and banter as they tried to rebuild the castle. Or rather, Hugo kept trying to rebuild it, Varian was trying to sabotage it.

“I think you had a little door here,” Varian poked a hole in one of the castle walls. Hugo swatted his hand away.

“It’s my castle I say what goes where!”

“Man, I’d hate to live with you. You’re a terrible architect.”

“Well I’m sorry not all of us can reverse engineer ancient automatons at 14 years old. Some of us had better things to do.”

Nuru and Yong had yet to come back, and while Varian liked to be the voice of reason, the example, Hugo just made it so easy to let loose. No arguments over which way to go, or why Hugo shouldn’t steal their supplies. Today, they were just teenagers with a desire for mischief and a hint of vengeance.

“You’re lucky I always bring this stuff with me. Otherwise this wouldn’t work as well,” Varian muttered.

Hugo snorted. “We could have just used a rock, but you were all like no, we gotta do this the right way, I’m an ex-villain and I don’t get to use what I learned often enough. ” He joked. Varian stuck his tongue out at that.

Finally, Varian wiped the sweat off his brow. It was starting to heat up, and he wouldn’t lie if he said the water was looking really nice right about now.

“Are we done?” He asked, and Hugo scooted back. He put his hands on his hips and admired their work.

“Looks good to me.”

Varian eyed it warily. “Shame it’s gonna get destroyed.”

“ If it gets destroyed, it’ll be for a good cause.” Hugo corrected, wrapping an arm around Varian. The younger tried not to blush as his head brushed against Hugo’s shirtless chest.

Sure enough, as Hugo let go, the same guy from before came back around. The two alchemists stepped back as he sized up the castle. The teen smirked, and charged right for their hard work…

In a flash of pink smoke, the teen stopped dead in his tracks. “Hey! What the…” He glanced down to see his feet trapped in goo. “The heck is this shit?” He yelled, glaring at the two.

“Why you don’t mess with alchemists!” Varian responded, ducking as the burly teen tried to swipe at him. “Relax, it’ll wear off in an hour. Enjoy the free sunburn!” With that, Hugo tugged at Varian’s arm and the two ran towards the water. The teen’s screams of anger faded from their ears as they splashed into the ocean.

“That…” Hugo wheezed, choking on laughter. “Was great.”

Varian’s own laughter died as he looked at the taller teen. The sunlight glanced off his glasses, bathing him in a warm light as his laughter continued. His warm smile sent shockwaves into Varian’s heart, which gave a weak tha-thump . If Varian could stare at this forever, he gladly would.

Hugo’s laughter finally died, and he saw Varian standing still, cheeks red and eyes ajar. “Earth to googles? Hello?” Varian blinked the stars out of his eyes. “Sorry. Sorry.”

The water lapped at their legs. The silence stretched on.

At least until Hugo reached down and splashed water at Varian. He snickered as Varian cried out in alarm and reeled back.

“Oh, is that how you wanna do things? After everything we’ve been through, you’re gonna betray me like that?”

Hugo’s chest tightened at how lighthearted those words were.

He didn’t let it show on his face. “Yup.” He popped the p. “Your face was so red, I thought you were gonna catch on fire.”

If anything Varian’s face turned even redder at that. He opened his mouth to speak but Hugo shoved more water his way.

His shirt was now soaked through. “It is on .” He crouched down low, and Hugo prepared for water but instead Varian leaped at him, sending them both tumbling into the water.

Hugo coughed as water entered his mouth. “Not cool!” He yelled, pushing Varian off. “This is war!”

He jumped at Varian, but the skinny alchemist scooted out of the way. He was far more graceful in water than he had any right to be, and took full advantage. With Hugo off balance, Varian jumped onto his back, shouting like a madman as Hugo crumpled into the water.

The blond grabbed Varian’s legs and threw back his back, sending Varian’s upper half into the water. He resurfaced with a shriek.

What a sight they must have been, screaming and laughing as they tried to murder one another. At some point Nuru and Yong swam over to see the ruckus, and cheered them on.

“Go Varian! Take him down!” Nuru cupped her hands over her cheeks.

Yong pumped his fist in the air. “Nah! Go Hugo! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

At this point, Varian had freed himself from Hugo’s back, and the two were circling each other like a dance.

“Give up now, hairstripe.” Hugo grinned. “You’re so tiny, all I gotta do is walk out a bit farther and I win.”

“You forget I’m the stronger one. I can just yank your legs out from under you.”

“Mhm, sure you are. Hey, what’s that on your back?”

Varian frowned. “What?” He turned around, trying to get a glimpse. It was hard to make out, but he could see an H written in paler skin. “Oh my god. You didn’t.”

“I totally did.”

“I thought I said no pictures!”

Hugo laughed. “My name isn’t a picture, it’s a word! Oooh, do you still read picture books, is that why you got it confused?”

That was it. Varian lunged at Hugo with a yell, but Hugo backed up deeper into the water, and sure enough, Varian fell in. He couldn’t get his balance without going underwater, and he coughed and sputtered. His shirt rode up, floating in the water.

Hugo looked almost bored. “So, you wanna give in?”

Varian sighed. “Alright, fine…” He dipped underwater, letting his toes touch the ocean floor. Using it as a springboard, he leapt out of the water, grabbing onto Hugo’s shoulders and dunking him under.

The younger watched as Hugo surfaced, coughing. “Now I’m done.” He grinned.

-

A few hours later, they had all crawled out of the water, sopping wet and laughing. They all agreed to stay just one more hour, dry off in the sun before heading back to camp. Nuru and Yong took the last hour to build their own sandcastle, now worry free.

The setting sun warmed Varian’s skin, settling over him like a blanket. It wasn’t too humid, and the breeze from the sea kept him cool enough. Varian stared at the book in front of him, seeing the words but not comprehending them. His eyes fell in and out of focus as he started to drift off. He lowered his head with a pleased hum, and distantly recognized the feeling of someone massaging his scalp. The book slid out from under him, and Varian watched with hazy eyes as a freckled hand placed it by his side.

“This is nice,” Varian murmured. Hugo hummed in agreement, staring ahead at the ocean waves. His hand never left Varian’s scalp.

“Yea, we should take the next leg of the trip easy.” Hugo responded.

“No,” Varian said. “This. Just the two of us, not fighting, just hanging out. Just being ourselves.” He stretched out like a cat.

Hugo’s eyes softened, chancing a glance down at Varian. Varian’s hair ruffled in the wind, a serene smile across his face.

Hugo felt his heart skip a beat. “Sounds perfect.” He said.

They lapsed back into silence, the rushing of the waves more than enough.

[inspirationdivine]

Scream || Sammy Solo

Timing: Today, mid afternoon, read part 1 first Summary: As the full moon draws nearer, Sammy gets desperate.  Trigger warnings: domestic abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, gun use

 “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Sammy didn’t get a chance to answer before Lydia yanked him backwards, scraping up his knees against the concrete floor. She grabbed his arm, hauling him upright. It was so easy to forget at times, just how incredibly strong she was. Fire burned in her eyes as she looked him up and down, disgust curling her lips. Sammy’s stomach dropped. She still had her coat on, her handbag slung over her shoulders, her hair fluffy where the autumn wind had whipped it around. She looked beautiful, and terrifying. 

“Answer me,” Lydia snarled, pushing him back against the wall. 

“I-I need to go,” Sammy stammered, “it’s to keep you safe! I’ll come back, I promise, I always come back!” He stumbled and tripped over his words. “It’s just tonight. I promise, I’ll be back before you know it!” 

“But I know it. Where. Were. You. Going?” Lydia hissed, pushing him harder against the wall with every word. Unbidden, tears sprung to Sammy’s eyes. He touched her wrist, not to push her away but to reassure her, calm her. It didn’t seem to work.

“The- the woods. Lydia, I need to go, the sun will start setting soon. Please, I’ll explain everything. I’m doing this for you. I want to be better for you!”

“What are you doing?” Lydia’s eyes narrowed, looking down to the tunnel. “Sammy, what have you done?!”

She was panicked. Sammy swallowed, his stomach curling and twisting. He’d done this to her, made her frightened, made her worried. God, how was he stilling fucking up? This was supposed to fix things, make Sammy worth her while, instead of a pathetic human. “It’s for you. I- I want to be better, I made myself better, for-”

“What did you do?!” Lydia yelled, shaking his shoulder. The door upstairs creaked. Sammy looked up with a pale face and wide eyes at Chloe, who froze, her mouth covered with her hands. She was staring at the tunnel too. The tunnel she’d found all those months ago, that they could escape through because they’d promised never to cross over the thresholds of Lydia’s home. But the tunnel went right under it. Chloe had told him over and over to be careful, to play itself. She’d told him to stop seeing Ari until she was blue in the face. 

“I made myself better! You’re always telling us how pathetic we are, how hard we make your life, how much it sucks to live with humans. You deserve better than that. I-if I could give you the world, Lydia, I would, no doubt, but I wanted to make myself someone you could be happy around, so that you didn’t feel like you were wasting your time on me.” The move Sammy talked, the more understanding seemed to calm Lydia down. Her bruising grip on his arm slackened, she stepped back, staring at him like he was a painting to solve. Unspeakingly, Lydia reaches up to one of her ears, and unfastened an earring, before dropping it in Sammy’s hand. All at once, his palm began to sting, and he yelled as he threw it out of his hand.

“Show me,” Lydia said after a long beat. 

“What’s goi-“ 

“Don’t interrupt,” Lydia interrupted Chloe, her voice tense and cloaked, like she was actively holding something back. Relief? Joy? Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought it would be. Even if it was surprise, or anger, he could fix it. He could explain everything. He was better now.  Sammy yanked up his shorts to show the still healing bite to Lydia. 

“You’ll like me more like this! I’m always letting you down but like this I’m not human anymore, you don’t have to hate me anymore! This is a good thing-“

“You betrayed me.” Lydia spoke softly. 

“No, no!” The thought made his stomach turn. Sammy began to sob, frantically wiping away his tears. “I’d never. I kept all my promis-“

She slapped him across the face, all semblance of restraint gone. Sammy shrank in on himself, cupping his cheek. She grabbed his shoulder, shoving him against the wall, then grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “That’s where you were! The night I was attacked, you snuck off to meet your werewolf best friend. You’ve put all of us in danger!”

“No!”

“How many people, Sammy? When they come to hurt Chloe, when they come to kill me, will that make you happy?! Is that what you want!”

“No, Lydia, I didn’t-“

Lydia grabbed him and threw him accros the room into an adjacent wall. Sammy groaned, standing upright, his hands raised in front of him, but she was already there again. He looked to Chloe frantically, but she had huddled herself into the corner, frozen. Lydia was never like this, never, she never hit them or threw them around, 

she never looked so-

“You did! You selfish brat, you thought you could escape me? You thought you could deprive me of yourself!”

Sammy opened his mouth to deny it, but no words came out. In a tiny corner of his mind, he knew she was right. He loved her, he wanted to spend every moment with her and make her happy, but he also… he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to dread being kissed, to feel exhausted every time they interacted. Being around her was like walking on eggshells. He wanted so much more for them. For him. 

Lydia looked at him with a furious satisfaction. “Is it going the way you planned? Do you think you’ll just run off into the sunset while you send hunters to slaughter me? I made you everything you are. You were a pathetic, friendless brat when I found you, so unimpressive even your own family couldn’t be bothered to protect you from me. I made you everything you are! And now you’re trying to leave me.”

“No,” Sammy replied hoarsely, his voice cracking and broken. He reached for her in comfort, and she pushed his hand away. “I was going to come back. I will come back. Please, Lydia.” Lydia dropped him, and Sammy immediately dropped to his knees, hugging himself as he fought back hard sobs. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could make things better. I was wrong, let me fix this, please, tell me how to fix this.”

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Lydia repeated, stepping back. He kept his gaze down and away from her, terrified of summoning another wave of her wrath, but she didn’t say anything else, rummaging through her things, probably trying to calm herself down. Werewolves were supposed to be strong, Ari had told him, and maybe that part would come later, but Sammy didn’t feel strong right now. He wanted to lie down and sob, ashamed and humiliated, and work out how to fix this. Maybe there was a potion or something, so he could fix this. They could go back to before. No more Ari, but he could live with that if it would mean he didn’t make Lydia mad anymore.

Chloe gasped, moving towards Lydia for the first time since she’d walked in. He looked up, right into the barrel of a brass gun.

“What a waste,” Lydia said with a blood freezing calm.

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

Lydia stared at the art she’d painted all over the wall. Red on grey, arranged like a rose bouquet. Small fragments of white and pink stuck like textured highlights, although some slowly slid down, spoiling the image. There were people who would pay good money for abstract pieces like this. Especially if they knew the medium. 

“Stop screaming.” Lydia’s voice sounded distant even to herself. She was breathing deeply, Lydia realised, like she’d run a mile. The ringing in her ears stopped - that had been the screaming, apparently. It was like experiencing it all through glass - the racing of her heart, the smell of urine, the thundering of footsteps down the stairs. Behind her, Chloe coughed and gagged, choking back her screams until she could hardly breathe. 

Chloe threw up. The longer Lydia stared at the wall, the more she wanted to too. Her habd was shaking. Anger, Lydia thought distantly. That was what this felt like. Anger. She turned her gaze to the hole in the wall, the tunnel she had so apparently missed all year. It would need to be filled with cement, blocked at both ends so no one would find it. Those ungrateful humans, really thinking they could -

“Clean this up,” Lydia said. It wasn’t glass at all. All that rage, betrayal, fear, all of it had been soothed by the ringing of that gunshot, puncturing through all of it. 

“No-” Chloe said, her voice broken in disbelief, in grief, her voice raw from suppressed screams. Lydia felt none of it. 

“Clean this up before I get back, or there will be hell to pay,” Lydia replied calmly, her voice cutting through Chloe’s like ice. There was blood on Lydia’s shoes, on her skin. What a fucking waste. She looked down from her bloody bouquet to the figure slumped at the wall. He stared back at her, his eyes glassy with shock and fear. “Don’t even think about leaving.”

The bloody black hole she’d shot through his face stared back too. Stupid boy. He’d had potential, and now he was just another mess for her to clean up. He’d really thought he was worth it. 

Humans never understood just how little their lives were worth. Lydia looked down to the bite on his leg, swallowed, staring at the bites and the silver burn for a second too long. Bile rose in her throat as she Lydia spun away from him. Lydia’s stilettos clicked up the stairs, chased by Chloe’s wails long after she’d locked the human in. 

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Polaroid  | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Warning: Cuteness

Word count: 3189

His Spider-Man duty had called earlier that day. Peter assured he'd be back soon. Easily enough you dozed off while waiting for Peter to come home. That wasn't particularly difficult, ever since Peter trusted you with his secret. You've been at the ready, taking care of him. Whenever. Wherever. He healed faster than a normal human being, but that didn't mean his wounds needed tending afterward. And all the while Peter was being the hero you simply managed to doze off in that lovely afternoon sun shining through the window. You dart back up from the desk as soon as you feel the touch of a hand on your shoulder. With the page of a comic book stuck to your cheek, you jump back up from the desk. "(Y/N)?" Peter groaned standing beside you, bare chest and one hand clenched to his side. "C-Can… you h-help?" Through your sleepy eyes, you look on as Peter limps back to the bathroom. Your eyes catch sight of the red-stained gauge pressed against his side. Approaching the door, you feel the damp and moist air rolling over you. Indicating that the shower must have run for quite a while. Peter stood there, hunched over the sink. Pressing the gauge into his side. His curly hair cast down his face.

The blood now awakening you from your daydream. The sink beside him, as well as the tub, had watered down blood running down. The whole scene more or less like a crime scene after the murderer tried to cover up his act. "Sit down…" You command him. Trying to let the calmness sound through your voice. Peter took place on the edge of the tub. His back covered in bruises and small cuts. Dried blood sticking to his skin. Wrapping one hand in the washcloth from the sink and with some running hot water. You slowly start washing his back. You can't help but let your eyes run across his muscled body. Those broad shoulders and muscular arms. Your hand runs over the muscles on his back where the dried blood stuck to his skin. Peter felt a bit nervous at first. You could feel it in his muscles, all tensed up. Rapid breathing. But admittedly, you were in the same boat.

 You could feel the muscles in Peter's back relax at the second wipe. You hear him release a couple slow sighs as he releases the tension in his shoulders, as they slowly lower. Inspecting cuts and bruises across this back. Ending up at the gauze. Running your fingers between his, taking over the gauze. As you hear him groan a little as you remove the gauze from the wound. Some tissue still stuck to the gauze. On his side ran a reasonable cut of around two inches running sideways. Putting his finger beside, if it wasn’t clear already.

 “Something is… stinging… in there. I dunno know…" Peter's voice was ragged. His breathing hampered, groaning at every movement he made. You weren't a doctor, but at first sight, the wound didn't look deep. The cuts weren't serious, nor were the bruises. You have seen worse in the last months. But the wound kept bleeding, drips of blood ran along the cut trailing down his back. As you push the new gauze against the cut. "Looks like it hurts... How long has thi-…” You feel the air crop up in your throat. Your eyes spot the hole in his flesh. Unable to finish your sentence… Your stomach turns upside down as the cluttered blood and tissue poor down this back. Something pierced right through his flesh. As you press the gauze against the cut, again blood poured out from the gaping hole. Peter’s words wake you from your frightened gaze. “I… guess an hour or so. Felt a sharp sting. Came home and saw all the blood. Tried to stop the bleeding but couldn’t.”

 "Y-You should go to a hospital." You feel your stomach acting up. The sight of so much blood almost made you throw up your guts. Releasing a small burp in the process. You could smell the stench in your breath. This wasn't your thing.

 “What?! You know I can’t!” Peter panics.

 “Peter… I-I… I-” You stammer. “-think y-you got hit by a b-bullet…”

 “No-No-No-No! You have to get it out! If I go to the hospital, May will found out. And she will freak out and…" Peter's rambling falls against deaf ears as try to focus on the bullet wound. You can feel the lights headedness creep into you. As your hands feel disconnected from your brain. Your legs turning to jelly and your fingers trembling slightly as you take the pincers from the first aid. "I-I will t-try…" This wasn't anything like the movies. Pulling it straight out like some sort of child's game. Then it hit you.

 Booze. You stumble back onto your legs as you recall where May left her booze. Peter just looks at you with questionable eyes as you run off to the cabinets in the living room. Returning with a brown liquorish bottle. With a pop, you open up the bottle. The strong scent of alcohol teasing your nostrils. "Take a swig." Holding the bottle up to Peter.

 “We shouldn’t! We’re only-“ Peter protested. But instead, the stinging pain in his side makes him stop yammering. Peter was right. You were too young to drink.  

 “It’s gonna hurt. Bad… Really bad." You take a small nip from the bottle. The liquor burned its way down your throat. The high percentage of alcohol sending a shiver down your body. Deep down, you feel your stomach protesting. On the plus side, you could feel your nerves calming down bit by bit.

 “We’re doing it my way, or we’ll go to the hospital.” Holding it up to Peter. Silence falls in-between you as Peter overthinks the situation. Eventually grabbing the bottle and taking a large swig. He gags and hunches forward, his body shivering all over. “Gaaah… Tastes horrible.” The regret painting across his face.

 "I'm sorry for what comes next…" You apologies with a heavy heart. You've seen it in the movies. But nothing comes close to the real deal. You pour the liquor down the wound. Cleaning it bit by bit. Peter's body quivering and shaking in the process. Surprisingly your hands shacked less than before. You steady yourself against the side of the tub. With the small torch clenched between your teeth, you work the pincers into the flesh. You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you poke the pincers further in. You had no clue how far the piece of metal worked itself in. That awful feeling crept up in you. You guts twisted and turned at the sight of blood and torn tissue. The sides of your cheeks filling with saliva. You breathing turning rapid and shallow. A small metal glitter appeared through the red cluster of blood and tissue. "Sit tight." Your voice skips a little as the nerves get the better of your body once again. You try to swallow the saliva away. You try to postpone the enviable.

 The pincers hardly hold onto the metal splinter as you try to get a hold onto it. Your sweaty fingers slipping more and more in the gloves. Almost letting go of the pincers as you try to wiggle it free. You feel another burp coming up. You turn away momentarily as you feel it coming up again. Your throat felt like it was on fire.  Peter groaned more and more as the metal splinter moved through the tissue. “Got it.” You try to assure him. Slowly pulling the splinter out.

 A small ping sounded through the bathroom as the splinter hit the sink. You quickly take the thread and needle from the first aid. But the needle keeps slipping from your trembling fingers. Blood on the gloves not helping one bit. What a grueling business. You shouldn't be doing any of this stuff on this age. You shouldn't need to remove bullets from somebody's flesh. This was far from ordinary. Stitching him up as quickly as you can. Every time you push the needle through his skin, you hear Peter hiss for a second. It looked like shit. No denying on that. The stitching all crisscrossed. But it did the job. You finish it off with a fresh bandage. The second you push the bandage onto the wound. You push past Peter, towards the toilet bowl. Crouched on your knees and hunched forward you stick your head into the bowl. You push the entire contents of your stomach and intestines out. No holding back. The grueling stench filling the bathroom. Wave after wave splatter through the bowl. You try flushing the toilet with one hand but are met with another hand. Peter stumbling towards you.

 “Heeeeey-Hey… that's the… eh…" With watery eyes, you glance at Peter. His eyes half-closed and a cheeky smile on his face. Pointing a finger into the toilet bowl. "sand-…wich you ate earlier!” He giggles to himself. “Heh… Smells kinda funny.” You’d never seen Peter react to alcohol. You also were at an age you shouldn’t be drinking anyway. But this was new. And the alcohol definitely hit his system now. “I… feel funny…” Looking at his fingers.

 Rinsing the foul taste with mouth water, you take Peter and help him back into his room. His legs barely holding his own weight. “Let's get you to your bed.”

 Peter just sat there, hunched against the wall on the lower level of his bunk bed, munching and licking his lips. His half-open eyes looking around the room. "My mouth tasted weird." He mumbles on.

 "I'll get you something. Stay here." From the kitchen, you grab a glass of water. Occasionally peaking back into the room to make sure Peter didn't do anything stupid. You wouldn't be surprised if he just wandered off onto the fire exit near his window. You quickly throw in a powdered aspirin. Taking one yourself as well.

 “Yay! There's my best buddy again.” Throwing his arms up in the air. His legs struggling to get the sweatpants on.

 "Here, drink this." With both hands, he clamps onto the glass of water. Chucking it down in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile, you help him get into his sweatpants. "Psst…” Peter leans forward, almost falling over. His face close to yours. “Don’t tell Peter we’re best buddies.”  

 “But-...” You have trouble keeping your laughter contained. “-but who am I talking to now?”

 “Spider-Man!” Peter shoots at you. “Sshht...! Don’t tell anybody!” Raising a finger to his lips.

 "Right... Okay." You try controlling your laughter as you pull Peter back against the wall. Afraid he'd otherwise fall over from the bed. Instead, his intoxicated body just slides down onto the sheets. You can't help but laugh at his behavior. Peter laying there mumbling things to himself. His fingers playing with the edges of his shirt. "I'll be in the bathroom for a moment. Call me when you need anything." Peter only responded with a small nod. His eyes fixated at the top mattress of the bunk bed.

 With the sponge, you scrub away the many stains and trails of blood covering the bathtub, sink, and floor. The towels, washcloths and other bloodied rags went straight into the washing machine for a spin. Hoping May would be home late from work. For dinner, you had to go online for a moment to check what to eat best after a hangover. At least that's what you thought Peter was going to have rather sooner than later. You'd just order something online. But you weren't sure what to order. You can't leave the house. Not with Peter like this. After searching for some local restaurants online and taking advice from the internet, you'd order something healthy. For now, it would be best to keep an eye on Peter before the food gets here.

 You crawl onto the bed, legs crossed and resting your head against the wall as you ‘look’ over Peter. He barely noticed you climbing over you. Your eyelids slowly becoming heavier. You notice the shift in the mattress. You see him crawling closer to you, snapping you out your daydream.

 “Can you make my bed stop… like… moving?” Pressing his finger repeatedly into your cheek.

 “I-I… don’t know…

“I just... feel like… like… A ship just... floating on the sea.”

“W-... What?”

“Makes my tummy hurt…”

“I’ll get someth-“ With the intention of grabbing a bucket, just in case. And maybe some aspirin. You try moving from the bed. But halfway on the mattress, you feel Peter’s arm slide around your back. His fingers gripping tight onto your shirt. Before you can react, let alone shoot a glance his way. A strong pull launches you back flat onto the mattress.

“Lemme hold onto you.” He mutters calmly. Snuggling close to you. Intertwining his legs with yours. Holding onto you tight. As he cradles his head onto your chest. “This is good…” He sighs dreamily.

    That moment was burnt into your memory forever. You can’t help but smile over the polaroid picture. May took it after she came home. Finding both of you fallen asleep. Peter curled up against your chest. Your arms wrapped around him. Underneath the picture was Peter’s handwriting, after all this time barely recognizable, saying: My hero.

That day had changed things in your friendship with Peter. Like a barrier was torn down. Something had shifted. You felt it. You became closer. Shared time together more and more. You had already fallen in love with Peter a long time ago. You didn’t know it back then. You liked him, and Peter liked you. He even said it once. Cheeks colored red and shaking hands. Those butterflies swarming. They tickled. But over the last months, things became more serious. The butterflies began to hurt. In a good way. Back then, you could recall every moment when Peter was close to you. When he touched your leg. Or lay his hand on your shoulder. Rarely a hug. It was something to dream about back then. Now you couldn’t recall a day without physical contact with him. A morning hug at the locker was routine. Surprise hugs from behind during lunch. Hugs at the bus. You couldn’t stop. Neither did he. You didn’t want it to stop.

Your heart skips a beat as the door opens in front of you. You put the shabby looking polaroid back into your jacket. It remained there for months. Close to you. The edges curled up, rough borders, the colors began to fade more and more. Trying to dry the thing time and time again after you got it soaking wet, didn’t help either. You had run the sentences a thousand times through your head. Trained in front of the mirror a dozen times. But the nerves couldn't be contained. Front behind the door, May appeared. “(Y/N)!” Her emotions ran from happiness seeing you, to surprise, into content. She understood why you were here. You could tell from the caring look she gave you.

"Pete! Someone's at the door for you!" She yells across the room. Nodding at you, and giving a wink. Before returning into the living room. "Coming!"

The apartment wasn't anything but large. A small living room with a kitchen. Directly adjacent to it was Peter's bedroom. Just a few meters away. But the footsteps coming from the other side of the apartment seemed like to take forever getting here. Your knuckles turning white as the grip on the flowers stalks increase. Feeling them break one by one. The sweat pouring from underneath your armpits.

“Hey (Y/N)-“ Peter excitingly speaks out before cutting out, as he realizes what’s happening. His eyes wide open, frozen to the spot. You try to swallow the lump in your throat. As you try to remember the words you were going to say. With trembling hands, you try handing over the flowers.

“I-… I…” You stammer. “W-wou…” Nothing more follows. As the flower hang defeated from your hand. Every stalk crushed by your grip. The wrapping barely holding the flowers together. You feel your heart hammering against your ribcage. Drowning in those innocent looking brown eyes of Peter for a moment.

Peter’s lips move. You could see them moving. But nothing audible came out. “N-n-n...ice." Rolled from his lips with a shaking voice. His hand moving towards the flowers. The brush of his fingers against yours make you jump for a moment. Making Peter hesitant for a second. Awaiting your next movement. The heat in your body rising to immeasurable heights.

“P-Peter…” You avert eye contact as you try to get the words out. Biting and licking your lips in such rapid succession you have difficulty to get the words out. Your eyes dart across everything except Peter. “Willyougooutwithme?" The word spill from your lips so quickly, you weren’t even sure even he heard it. Afraid for his answer. You keep your eyes to the floor. Then it catches your eye. From under your boot sticks out a familiar looking piece of paper. You feel the tears welling in the corner of your eyes. Clenched between your fingers, you bring the picture up. The polaroid was horribly scratched and torn from your nerves tapping and turning on your heel.

“Y-You kept it…?” Peter’s trembling voice wakes you. “A-All this time?”

The picture now damaged beyond repair slips from your fingers as you notice Peter’s tears running down his cheeks. “I carried it everywhere…” Wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your palm. “It meant everything… to me.”

“Yes...” Peter shoots out. Wiping the tears from his eyes with this sweater. “I love to go out with you.”  

Time stood still. Like everything stopped moving. The nerves in your body turned into pure excitement and happiness. A sense of relief coursed through your body. You had imagined a thousand other ways to do it. But this wasn’t one of them. Either way, smiles appeared across each other’s faces. It all led up to this. And it felt good.

“Kiss him!” May chanted from across the room. Peter looked back for a second. Before taking a step closer. The boy you fell in love a long time ago was just inches away from you. You could feel his nerves hampered breath against your skin. That cheesy smile you loved and dreamed off, now adorned by his soft sweet lips. Which were soon to be pressed against yours. Your bodies draw closer together. The flowers hit the floor as you caress your arms around his neck. His arms pull your body firmly against his. Your mouths reach closer and closer together, as you feel his soft and tender lips press against yours. For only to be interrupted by a white flash of the May’s camera. Followed by May storming past you, waving her new polaroid picture. Only God knows what she’ll be doing with it.

At least you got the apartment to yourself…

As Peter grinned from ear to ear.

[jonogueirawrites]

Save me from myself.

Chapter 6.

AO3.

Summary:

Lillian has all the information on The Winter Soldier that she wanted. She also has him chained and trapped... defenseless. The clock is ticking, and a decision has to be made.

TW: violence, mention of murder, mention of death, light torture, blood, shooting.

Truths and Decisions.

As soon as she entered the car, someone blindfolded her with a piece of fabric, and she chuckled.

“Is that really necessary?” She rested her hands on her crossed knees. “I just handed you Captain America and The Iron Man, not to mention your little pet project, which, to be honest, you will only have after I break him.” She pointed to herself and smiled.

“True, but as they say, better safe than sorry, no?” The lackey addressed her.

With a low huff, she leaned back and let her mind go back to the black folder that rested on the passenger seat of her car.

The document had given her more information than she had asked for. There were names and dates, all the targets The Winter Soldier had killed. Her parents’ names were included, of course.

The reasons behind the killing were, as expected, redacted so the information was just for the ones who were worth it. That was the explanation he had given her anyway.

When they first met, he had introduced himself as Mr. Collins, and that was it. The meeting was strictly business, and he had wasted no time telling her right after their introduction that he had the information she wanted, but he wanted her to hand him the Avengers in a silver plate, or at least as many of them as she could.

Lillian knew, of course, he would ask for that, and she had already come up with a plan. She would lure them to a place where things wouldn’t get out of hand. Although she would do anything for the information, and she had indeed done a lot of things for it, hurting the Avengers was out of question. Had they hurt her? Absolutely! The hatred she felt every time she thought about them was evidence enough of that, but she wouldn’t, no, couldn’t hurt innocent people. Let alone people she had shared meals with and had somehow become her family.

Chastising herself for letting her thoughts wander to the team, she focused her mind again.

Bucky Barnes had killed many more people than she had previously imagined, and she shivered with that thought. He was not alone in those actions though, Hydra was behind it, and she never believed they were the good guys. She decided to turn a blind eye until she had done what she had to, after that, who knew? She would have plenty of time to go after new objectives. They were the ones who ordered the death of her parents…

Bucky would… Bucky? What was she thinking? The Winter Soldier was going to tell her everything she wanted to know. Why he had killed her parents, and what was Hydra after.

With a deep breath, she changed the focus of her thoughts.

It was true she had gone with them voluntarily, and it had been on a whim, but Lillian was aware they weren’t going to simply let her go. She knew too much.

Did she prove she was not one of them? Did she manage to convince them she had nothing to do with the Avengers? It was hard to know. All she could do now was wait and improvise.

The car stopped, and the sound of metal touching the ground reached her ears. Her blindfold was taken away abruptly, and her eyes struggled to adjust to the bright light of the place.

They were inside a forgotten building, she could see vines and cracks on the walls. The light flickered for a moment, but nobody seemed fazed by it.

“Interesting place you have here.” She raised her finger to her lips and turned around to give a good look at the place. “Very…” No words reached her mouth, and she just shrugged when Mr. Collins glanced at her.

They went up the stairs and crossed the single wooden door that creaked when it opened. Lillian gasped as soon as she crossed the threshold.

The place was a big warehouse. There were machinery and computers everywhere, it was brightly lit, and on the left side, she could see stairs with marble steps leading to an office that was protected behind thick glass from top to bottom.

They walked past all of that, heading to a small door she hadn’t noticed, where she was told to wait. Alone in the room, she observed the place.

It was spacious. The walls were white, there were no windows nor decorations around the room. Just that simple metal door. Creepy, to say the least.

On the right, there was a table which she checked and regretted immediately. Three folders laid inoffensively on it. Cap’s, Tony’s, and The Winter Soldier’s.

Inside them, there were all kinds of information. Personal, professional, and the one that scared her the most… medical. There was detailed information on their physiology. With a flick of her hand, she closed it and turned her back to it.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned on the table and started biting her thumb’s nail.

The emptiness of the place was starting to make her skin crawl. When she was about to leave the room, she heard the whirring of machines, and the floor began to move.

With a yelp, she sat on the table and watched as the floor began to sink. Five levels down it went, forming five large steps in front of her. In the center, a round hole appeared, and something inside it began to stir. Curiosity began to wake and not able to shut it; she found herself walking towards that unknown.

Lillian was a few steps from it when she heard the door open, and Mr. Collins stared at her from there.

“I wouldn’t go near that if I were you,” he said in a calm tone. “Unless you want a first-hand experience.” He gave her a devilish grin.

There was barely enough time to open her mouth when she had to shut it again. Tony, Steve, and The Winter Soldier were being dragged inside the room.

She lifted her chin when Bucky looked at her and walked up the steps to lean on the table again. Her heart was pounding on her chest, and her mouth was suddenly dry… her body began to heat up with the prospect of the end.

The Avengers were forced on their knees and had their hands and feet tied up. A band around their necks kept them chained to the ground, and the metal chain kept them from keeping their backs straight.

Observing them carefully, Lillian noticed cuts and bruises on their faces. Bucky’s arm seemed painfully out of place, but his face remained stoic, and his eyes never left hers.

Their mouths were gagged, which didn’t stop Tony from trying to speak, and a trickle of blood ran down Steve’s cheek until a drop reached his jacket staining it in red.

She swallowed the last saliva she had in her mouth and ran her finger over her long hair, sighing in the process.

“You forced my hand, Cap.” She averted his gaze. “This is all on you. If only… if only you had listened to me.” She raised her voice, and her tone was harsh.

When he looked at her, and she saw disappointment in his eyes, she exploded.

“Fuck you, Mr. I’m perfect!” She advanced towards him and felt arms circle her waist.

Mr. Collins shook his head and gave her a disapproving look.

“He is ours,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

Huffing, she took his hands off her.

“Fuck you too!” She flipped him the middle finger, and he laughed.

“Such class.”

“I want answers, and I want it now! What you do to them is none of my business.” Her back was to them. She didn’t want to look at her former friends.

-----

To say Steve was disappointed was an understatement.

He had thought her one of his closest friends. They had shared secrets and memories. They had cleaned each other’s tears.

He knew her pain ran deep, but he didn’t know how much they hurt.

Glancing to the left at his friend, he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Guilty for allowing them to lay their hands on Bucky again. Guilty because he should have looked for his friend instead of mourning for him. Guilty because all his suffering could have been prevented if he had just been a second faster, been a better friend.

When he looked back at Lilly, he felt even more guilty because his action had hurt them both.

-----

Tony sighed and closed his eyes. He was wrong about her.

Once she was a colleague and then a friend. There were times he even saw her as a daughter, and there she stood.

Her smart mind and keen eyes looked down at him now. Her sharp tongue spoke against him.

Such a waste of his time.

“Potts…”  He sighed again.

-----

Bucky was surprisingly calm. He knew they would eventually find him again. There was no way Hydra would give up their asset and science project. He was too valuable to let go.

The shackles and chains that kept him still and squeezed his wrist were no different than the shackles and chains that kept his mind a slave.

The pain emanating from his shoulder was nothing compared to what was to come, and he failed to stop the shiver running down his spine. But it was her eyes that grounded him to that moment.

He had murdered her parents and condemned her to a cold life. In the darkness that stared back at him, he saw hatred, bitterness, and desolation.

There was only one thing that would calm her troubled heart, and he wished she could finally find the peace she desperately sought when he was gone.

-----

“You may stay while we interrogate them if you so wish, Ms. Black. Interruptions will not be accepted, and a harsh punishment will have to be brought upon you as well.” Mr. Collins eyed her from her head to her toes, and she felt goosebumps start to spread through her skin.

“How many times will I have to say that you will do no such thing with that dog until I finally get everything that I want?” She walked to him and pulled him by his pink tie. “You can clean the scraps from the floor and put it together; after all, Hydra is used to dealing with….” Her hair hid her face when she turned to look at Bucky, and instead of finishing her sentence, she tilted her head and examined his hunched figure.

Narrowing her eyes at Bucky, Lillian walked in his direction but was stopped by Mr. Collins fingers curling around her wrist.

“Don’t you dare try to stop me, or I will kill you.” She didn’t turn to look at him, and when he laughed and let go of her wrist, she resumed her stride.

“Mr. Winter Soldier…” Her tone was serene and peaceful. “I will hurt and break you until you spill all I want to hear, and then I’ll make you beg for death, and oh how I wish to see you die.” She was close to him and grabbed his hair, obligating him to lift his head to look into her eyes. “How many nights have I dreamed of seeing the light in your eyes fading away; to see the last time your chest rises and falls; to feel the last beat of your heart” Lillian narrowed the space between them until her lips were close to his and then whispered in his ear. “But death is just mercy for you.” She slowly pulled his head back to look into his eyes again. “I will give you to Hydra and let them do whatever they please with you.” She smiled when his eyes widened.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Steve struggle against his chains and heard his muffled plea. With a glance at her former friend, she allowed Bucky to lower his head again.

“Take his gag off. I will start my questioning now.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the man to do as she told.

“What information you wanted from my parents?”

He remained silent.

“What information you wanted from my parents?” She stepped close to him.

Bucky kept looking into her eyes. His lips sealed in dreadful silence.

Her patience was thinning, and she wanted it to be over soon so she could leave all of that behind and then… then maybe she would be forgiven. That’s what she hoped, but she knew it would be difficult to happen.

Her hand closed around his shoulder, and her fingers squeezed the wound until she heard him grunt.

“What…” Her nails dug his skin. “did you want?”

-----

It hurt. It hurt a lot, but he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.

He was going to give her what she needed.

“They tried…” He started through gritted teeth. “They tried to shield...” It was her eyes that widened now. “Your mother killed herself, so I would leave you alone.”

Lillian’s hand withdrew from his body. Her body shook, and he saw tears threatening to run down her beautiful face.

His cheek stung where she had slapped him, her nails marked his skin, and he hissed. She cradled her fingers and stared down at him.

“You’re lying!” She shouted at full lungs. “She would never… She wouldn’t…” The tears that fought to stay in place ran down her delicate skin like a waterfall. The thick drops falling on her dress. “No…” Her voice was low and reminded him of the little girl he had once met… destroyed.

“They loved you and wanted to protect you.”

“Shut up.”

“Their first thought was your safety…”

“Shut up!” He saw her cover her ears.

“Your father dragged the dresser to the door, so you wouldn’t come in.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Lillian covered her ears with her hands and walked away from him. “Just shut the fuck up.”

She grabbed his jaw and dug her nails into his skin until it broke, and she saw blood on his face.

“It was you! You were there to kill them. You blocked the door, so they couldn’t flee from you.”

“No, Black.” Her eyes narrowed in anger. “I’m sorry, but it was them.”

His head was thrown to the side, and the chains shook, the noise from it clashing with the one coming from the hole in the ground.

“You’re right, I killed them. But they chose to protect you that evening…���

-----

No more.

Lillian wouldn’t listen to another word that left his mouth. In a second, she grabbed the gun from the guard on her left and pointed it to his head.

“You can do whatever you want with me, Black, but it won’t change the fact that they did what they could so you would be able to live.”

He dared to continue speaking. He killed them. He trapped them. He… he was the one… They didn’t…

Her hand was shaking, and the gun trembled left and right. Her vision couldn’t focus with all those damned tears, and she yelled.

“No!” Her tone was desperate. “I didn’t kill them.”

“What?” Bucky was alarmed. “No! That’s not what I mean, I-”

“You killed them, yes, but it was because of me they gave up fighting. They never gave up fighting.” she sobbed. “They taught me to be a fighter to never give up.”

“Listen to me, Black.” Bucky tried to stand up but was stopped by the chain linking his head to the ground. “They didn’t give up. They fought for you!”

“Enough!” Lilly felt sick and so tired.

“If I may Ms. Black.” Collins's voice was clear, and his tone too excited for the mood in the place. “I know exactly what will help you achieve what you want.”

“Go ahead.” She nodded at him.

Placing his hand inside his pocket, he took a small device from it and pressed a button. The second he touched it, his face lit with a wolfish grin, and the sound of machinery filled the place.

“Is that…?” Instead of finishing the sentence, Lillian looked at the Hydra agent. “Does it work?”

“Even better than before.” Collins’s gaze fell on Bucky, and his already huge grin grew bigger.

-----

Bucky noticed how her eyes widened with curiosity and the way her feet seemed to move without being commanded, whatever it was she was seeing fascinated her to no end.

And the way that man kept looking at him… it couldn’t be…

His head snapped back, and a quiet no escaped his mouth.

-----

The night had been so long, and she could feel her energies being drained away. There were still things to be done, though; someone she had to kill.

She only needed to know one more thing.

Stopping right beside Bucky, she let her eyes meet his.

“Turn it on,” as soon as the words left her mouth, she saw Bucky’s eyes turn desperate, “and give me that red book.” Giving him a last glance, she turned her back and walked to Collins.

“Don’t do this.” Bucky’s voice reached her ears, but her mind was focused on the book. “Please…” The sound of his struggle against the metal chains was joined by Steve’s and Tony’s.

Her fingers curled on the red cover, and she could feel power and desperation oozing from it.

“No…” Bucky’s voice was rough. “No!’" He screamed.

Lillian’s fingers caressed the book, and her skin vibrated. The end of her sorrows was near, she could feel the climax building up.

“Don’t. Kill me, just kill me.” His words finally registered in her head, and she turned her body to give him a good look.

He fought with all his might. He trembled, and she could see the sweat start to run down his face. His eyes were wild, and he gripped the metal around his neck with his flesh hand.

“Just kill me.” He was looking into her eyes while she walked in his direction. “Kill me!” he screamed again, and she saw spit flying from his mouth.

“His arm?” She tilted her head while asking. “I want it.” She opened the book and searched for the right page.

Steve and Tony fought their chains too, but their battle was a lost battle. She could hear their muffled screams and paid them no mind, pushing their attempts away.

-----

Bucky tried and tried. He pleaded, and he feared.

“I’ll do whatever you want, Black.” He panted, still struggling to get free. “Torture me if you want, I promise I won’t resist, but not this… just not this…” His voice trailed away. His tone deflated.

His eyes closed, and he gave the shackle one last push before falling to the ground.

-----

Lillian was standing right in front of him. She noticed the desperation in his words, saw his hopes being crushed.

“Look at me, Soldier!” She ordered, and he obeyed. “I will make you hurt your friends, so then you will always remember.”

His eyes were open, and she could see his soul. It was small…. As small as she had been the night he killed her parents.

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread on her face.

The climax was almost there.

Raising an eyebrow to him, she walked back to Collins and demanded to have his metal arm. When he refused, she punched him and held him against the hard wood of the table. She squeezed his neck until he had trouble breathing.

“You will not stop me from doing this, Mr. Collins.”

“Kill me, and you die too.”

“Just give me the fucking arm.” She breathed onto his face and pushed his head against the surface. After he nodded, she let him go.

“You there.” She pointed to the guard next to Tony. “Take his gag off. I want to have a word with him.” The man looked at Collins, and she yelled at him. “Now!” He hurried to do what she had asked.

As soon as his gag was away, Tony started to speak non-stop, and she placed her hand over his mouth.

“Shut up and pay attention.” He nodded.” I will finish my business with The Winter Soldier over there, and then I will come and rip this thing off your chest.” She poked him, and when he opened his mouth, she grabbed his wrist behind his back and twisted it. “I will let the gag off because with every word you say, it will be one more minute of torture on you, get it?” He nodded again, and she walked away.

Heading to the machine, she let her fingers trail the cold chair. It was such a simple thing. If it weren’t for all the cables connected to it, she wouldn’t even notice it.

Lillian turned to Collins and asked if it would take too long to have the arm brought to her, and when he shook his head, she sat on the device crossing her legs.

A minute or two later, a man entered the place carrying a case, and she stood up to take it.

She opened it, and his metal arm rested inside. It laid still waiting to be brought to life.

With the book in her left hand, she grabbed the arm with her right fingers and walked to Bucky.

“Black,…” she saw him raising his head to look at her, “you have no idea of what you’re doing.” The man who sat on the ground less than an arm away warned her.

“Longing,…” the activation trigger had begun, and Bucky furiously fought against it. The muscles in his body were tense, “rusted, furnace, daybreak…” Lillian watched as he squirmed and screamed, cursed, and got lost.

“Just a little longer”.  Her mind raced, and her heart was about to explode. “Seventeen, benign…”

“Just a few more seconds. You got to hold on. You can do it.”

She took a step forward. The Winter Soldier looking into her eyes, staring at her soul.

“Black…” His voice weak and his figure so small. There was no trace of the murderer who haunted her dreams. Only a broken man.

“Nine,…” she lowered her head to look into his eyes. They were so close. Why wasn’t he attacking her? “homecoming…”

“One,...” she spoke into his lips, and he closed his eyes. His metal arm safely in her hand.

“Lilly,…” a single tear ran down his face, “please!” He begged with fear in his voice.

She gave him a final look and whispered close to his ear. His hot skin near her face and his disheveled hair touching her lips.

“I believe you.” And with that, she dropped his arm in front of him and signaled to Tony with a nod.

Turning around with the gun in her hands, she tried to shoot Mr. Collins. In the meantime, Tony touched his arc reactor, and his armor started to suit up. The guards shot them, and she had to fight them in that, not at all, comfortable dress.

Tony threw her the small key she had pushed into his mouth after she stole it from Collins, so she could free Steve and began to take care of the guards. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Collins leaving the place.

Bucky was finally freed when Tony shot the cuffs, and the first thing he did was to grab his metal arm and destroy the band around his neck.

The place was a ruckus, and emergency lights flicked bathing the room in red and white. Guards swarmed the room, and Tony, Steve, and Bucky took care of them while Lillian headed to the machine. It needed to be destroyed.

She pushed and pulled. Shot and kicked, and soon it was nothing more than debris.

Things weren’t exactly as she had planned. Well, she had had just a few seconds to come up with it, and the fact that everything had worked so far was almost a miracle.

Smiling, she turned to help the trio, and her eyes met ice-blue ones. Bucky walked in her direction. His steps confident and strong, but when she saw horror in his features, a cold shiver ran down her spine.

Time slowed down, and the pain that shot through her body was indescribable. She knew Bucky was running in her direction, but his steps were odd; slow.

The hand she unconsciously placed on her chest was sticky, and when she brought it up to look at it, she didn’t understand why or where those red stains had come from. She gave Bucky one final look, one last smile.

-----

Bucky’s head was spinning with questions. She had saved them, saved him. But why? The question kept popping up in his mind.

She said she believed him. But what exactly? That he was innocent? That he could be a better man? That he could be saved?

His metal arm shifted and he threw the table towards the door from which more men were arriving.

His eyes sought hers, and when he finally found them, his chest was suddenly lighter, his hope higher. Her delicate face was decorated by her beautiful smile, one that she was giving only to him.

He wanted to ask her all those questions, and damned would be whoever dared to interrupt him. He walked to her as fast as he could, there was no one who could stop him now… but that man, Collins was his name, where the hell did he come from?

When he raised a gun towards Lillian, Bucky knew there wasn’t much he could do, he was too far; too slow.

Her hand flew to her chest, and her smile vanished. There was confusion in her eyes, but she still looked for him, smiled at him. He was only able to hold her body, preventing it from crumbling to the ground.

Bucky ran his fingers over her midnight black hair and stained it with blood. Looking at his hand, he noticed it was bloodied… His hands and clothes were smeared with her blood.

He held her closer to his chest and whispered into her hair.

“I will not let you die. Do you hear me?” Bucky waited for an answer that never came.

He moved his eyes to her face again, his heart as small as a coin. There was no smile on her features, and she looked serene, finally at peace.

I hope you liked.

Likes and reblogs are super appreciated!

Next chapter

[jolient]

reiteration (a little quieter)

Rating: not rated

Warnings: major character death 

Fandom/Ships: BuzzFeed Unsolved universe, Sara/Shane mentioned but otherwise gen

Word Count: 2.4k 

Content Warnings: death, murder, mild blood, dead bodies, the mob, angst, mild panic attack

Summary:  A more pious person might have started praying when the two splashes turned into footsteps, faint and almost impossible to discern over the ambiance of the sewer, but still definitive, still solid and real.

AO3 LINK

Read Below the Cut

Water sloshed around his feet, soaking through his boots. It was cold, and full of grime. Every so often his foot would brush against something solid and he would jerk back, certain that something was going to grab him. 

Nothing did. 

He didn’t have a light, so his progress was slow. He had to rely on his ears and the feeling of the air on his face or the slimy walls of the tunnel under his finger tips. The tunnel was narrow, too, and he was tall enough that his shoulders brushed against the stone ceiling, forcing him to bend over slightly.  

The whole place stank, too. The air was warm and rancid, like sewage or decaying meat, and it felt unsettlingly like a hot breath on his neck. He had gagged when he’d first stepped into the tunnel, and right now his shirt collar was pulled up around his face, which was pretty ineffective in terms of keeping out the offending smell. 

He heard splashes behind him a few times, as though something had fallen into the water. Every time, he assured himself that it was nothing more than a rat that had gotten sick of the smell and tried to end its own life. 

Still, though, he was paranoid enough to entertain the idea that something--or someone--had followed him--he’d barely escaped from whatever little den he’d wandered into. 

Who was he kidding, though, he knew he’d been where the mob hadn’t wanted him. He’d gotten cocky, rising through the ranks as fast he did, thinking he could swim against the current just because the boss had treated him like some kind of son. You wanna dance with the devil, you gotta live with it when he sets you on fire, though, and boy, was Shane living with it--He was stumbling through Satan’s cement butthole because of it! 

He stopped for a minute, when things (the smell, the sounds, his own fatigue) got overwhelming, leaning against the wall and wishing for a blast of cold air or a flashlight. He’d realized pretty quickly that he didn’t actually have much of a plan, since when he’d jumped into this random sewer there’d been bullets flying at his head, but he hadn’t really had any choice but to follow the tunnel and try to put as much distance between the mobsters and himself as possible. 

He didn’t doubt that they’d be looking for him. There were only so many places he could have gone. 

He wondered how it would go down--would he find some way out of this tunnel and die outside, shot down by whatever firing crew was presumably waiting for him, or had they sent someone, some lone killer, down here after him? The latter seemed more compliant with the mob’s methods--quick and quiet. He shuddered, leaning his head back against the wall, fungi and dampness be damned. He closed his eyes for a second, not that that changed much in terms of darkness, and listened, breathing in the warm, rotting air, his body pressed up against the wall while dirty water ran down around his ankles. 

This was no place to die, but a corpse would match the décor impeccably.

He listened, filtering out sounds he determined to be purely environmental: water dripping, rats running around and squeaking, the almost stream-like ambiance of the torrent at his feet. 

He heard nothing. 

It was unsettling. 

So he kept moving, his feet almost frozen, his clothes damp, his fingers numb as they blindly groped the tunnel, guiding him about as well as a broken traffic light at a busy intersection. Twice, he nearly tripped, almost pitching forward into the disgusting man-made swamp he was wading through. 

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. He’d ducked into the tunnel sometime past midnight, he knew. He wondered if Sara would be waiting up--probably not, she’d gotten used to his busy--and secretive--schedule. She’d never complained about it, just kissed him and told him she understood, and for that, he was eternally grateful. He truly didn’t deserve her, she had a heart of gold. He didn’t deserve any forgiveness she’d offer him either, because her life was probably going to be changing very soon: he’d either be shot and killed and possibly left to rot down here, where the smell of his decaying body with compliment the already rank stench, leaving her a better-left-unsolved mystery, or he’d manage to escape this impossible situation and flee town with Sara in tow, alive but on the run forever. 

He knew that his death would the better of those two options, logically speaking. So long as the boss had confirmation that he was out of the picture, Sara would be fine. She’d be vaguely affiliated through ties she subconsciously knew about and chose to ignore, and if the boss really was sad to see Shane go, her protection would be guaranteed.  

If he lived, though… Well, the only service the boss would provide would be a priest reading their last rites. It was farcical to assume that they’d get far enough from the boss’s sphere of influence to be safe, and everyone knew the mob didn’t leave loose ends hanging. He would really prefer not to subject Sara to that kind of terror if he could help it.

On the other hand, though, he didn’t really want to die. In fact, all he really wanted was to settle down with Sara, get married, maybe adopt another cat, and leave all this mob shit behind him. 

Damn, he really was up shit creek here, with no paddle in sight. 

He stopped for a second--Had there been a splash behind him, or was the stink of this place finally starting to get to him? Frowning, he listened, and a few seconds later, a second splash ricocheted around the tunnel, bouncing off the curved walls. 

Shane froze, listening in silence, completely blind to whatever, if anything, was coming towards him. 

He didn’t, because he didn’t believe in anything, from ghouls to God. Instead, armed with all his logic and reasoning, he began frantically calculating, trying to come up with anything that could help him. Turning as silently as possible, one hand on the wall, he lifted his face and breathed in, trying to feel the air in each direction, hoping for a whiff of anything fresh or any moving air, anything that would indicate a hole he could slip into. 

He was disappointed. 

There was no way out--his heart was beating too fast, too loudly. Every instinct he had told him to run. The footsteps, sloshing through water without any care for subtlety, were getting louder, their owner’s only goal becoming more and more apparent.

Shane had learned what the footsteps of a killer sounded like a long time ago. They were quick yet heavy, efficient and ruthless. Even with the water dripping and running around them, he could still make them out clearly, could hear the almost-anger this man walked with. 

He wondered who it was--maybe Banjo, or Lim, maybe Goldsworth. He doubted it was Banjo or Lim, even though he was sure Banjo wouldn’t hesitate to crawl through this tunnel. He hoped it wasn’t Goldsworth. Goldsworth wasn’t interested ‘quick and painless.` He liked to see his victims squirm, liked to watch the fear in their eyes while they bled out, powerless to do anything while he smoked a cigar and asked them why they took so long to die. 

Shane had worked with Goldsworth before. It hadn’t been pretty.

He tried to calm himself down--no one wants to face their killer with piss running down their pant leg--and decided he had two options: step away from the wall, into the center of the tunnel, and accept his fate, or try and rush his killer. He didn’t see a high success rate for either, but it might be better to save his strength in case he survived the initial shooting and needed to drag himself out of the tunnel.

Moving slowly, he stepped away from the side of the tunnel and put his hands up, even though he wasn’t sure if the killer could see him. 

“I’m right here.” He called out, hoping he wasn’t about to be pumped full of lead. In the distance, although still too close for comfort, the footsteps stopped. 

“Do you really want to die?” Shane frowned, trying to place the killer’s voice--It definitely wasn’t Banjo or Lim. And while it did kind of sound like Goldsworth, he had to rule that out: Goldsworth spoke to you like the dirt he walked on was worth more than your life. This guy, though? He sounded more human, almost remorseful, like a man about to destroy a stained glass window. 

“I mean, no, but I’m also not going to go live out life as a fugitive.” He wondered if he was crazy, talking to this guy. The man was about to kill him in a sewer, after all. 

“I’m sure. Don’t worry, I’ve got a clear shot. It’ll be pretty quick. About 6 minutes until you’re completely brain dead, but you’ll be out after a few seconds.” Who was this guy? What kind of hitman said shit like that? Someone with medical knowledge… Who in the mob would have medical knowledge? Were they recruiting corrupt doctors now?

“So... you normally shoot your victims?” Was he stalling? He wasn’t sure, but stalling his own death seemed like a good strategy. His palms were sweating. The collar of his once pristine shirt felt too tight around his neck. 

“Normally I prefer quieter methods.”  

“Oh? Like what?” He was definitely stalling. He shifted his weight, leaning on one foot, then the other, and smiled, anxiously, even though no one could see his face. The tunnel felt like it was shrinking around him—was he on the verge of a panic attack? 

“Oh, you know, I’ve sampled different methods, but I usually stick to poison or sometimes smothering. Easier to clean up, you know.” The figure took a few more steps forward. Shane heard the click of a gun, and his heart skipped a beat. The tunnel was definitely getting smaller--Jesus, he was about to die. 

“Hey, uh, before you kill me,” He started, stopping when his tone came out as slightly hysterical. He paused, taking a deep breath—he wasn’t dead yet, even if that was subject to change. “Is Sara gonna be ok?”

“Who?” 

“Sara. My--” He stopped, wondering if he was just going to make things worse. 

“I asked you a question.” The killer said. Shane cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much.

“She’s my… um… my girlfriend. She’s not involved in any of this, doesn’t know anything about it. I-I don’t want her to get hurt because of me.” 

“I’ll see what I can do, Legs.” Legs? Clearly, this guy knew him. He frowned, trying again to place his killer--a name appeared in the back of his brain. 

“Night Night?” He asked, incredulously. He’d worked with Night Night for years, the two of them often tag-teaming various targets--him, the extractor, the one who got the info they needed, and Night Night, the killer, who came to finish the job. It had been an effective strategy, until Night Night had been ‘retired’ for his zealousness. He’d been labeled a liability, and the mob didn’t like liabilities.

Night Night laughed bitterly, and the sound reverberated, the acoustics of the tunnel twisting it into a shallow, almost horrific noise above the rushing water. 

“Yeah. Been a long time.” 

“Hell yeah! Hey man--where’ve you been hiding out?” As much as he tried to ignore it, Shane couldn’t help feeling a little hopeful--he and Night Night had been pretty close, as far as mafia ties go. They’d even considered each other friends at one point. Maybe he could talk his way out of this one--he was good at that. And Night Night had survived underground for all these years, evidently, so maybe he’d be willing to help Shane and Sara.

Except he wasn’t. 

It was the oldest trick in the book: hit ‘em when they aren’t looking. Ryan holstered his gun, glad he’d had the foresight to attach a silencer. The sewer walls seemed to trap noise, amplifying sounds to a thousand times louder than they should be, bouncing echoes back and forth between the walls until they faded into nothing.

“You know, here and there.” He said softly, answering Legs’ last question. He stepped forward, trudging over to the dead body, and crouched down next to it. Pulling a penlight out of his pocket, he looked at Legs’ eyes--never into them. Legs’ eyes were still open, wide with shock and surprisingly still lifelike, even as the torrent of sewer water washed his blood away beneath him. 

Ryan reached down and closed Legs’ eyes. 

“Sorry, big guy,” He said, standing up. “Time to go Night Night.” 

He entertained the idea of trying to carry the body out for a few seconds, but quickly abandoned the notion: Legs had a good couple of inches on him, and moving the body would only attract attention and make it difficult to slip away. Must’ve have been hell for him, though, walking down here. Ryan’s head was almost brushing the ceiling as it was. He sighed. 

He had stopped looking at his victims as anything other than bodies a long time ago: murder required impersonality. But he had been friends with Legs, to the extent that their careers allowed them, and he was genuinely sad to see him go. Still, better he’d been the one to pull the trigger. Better him than Goldsworth. 

He, at least, believed in mercy.

He did what he could, in terms of a funeral, leaning the body against the wall, out of the water, even if those damn long legs were still submerged, and reciting the only prayer he remembered, despite years of catholic school. He knew Genesis 3:19 probably wouldn’t mean much to Legs, but he said it anyway, because it felt like the same impartialness he’d give a stranger. 

His voice shook a little at the end, and he knew that somewhere in heaven or hell, Legs was probably shaking his head and saying “Not good enough, Night, you can do better. For me, your ol’ pal Legs.” 

He glared at the body. “Fuck you, man.” He whispered, dropping his act for a second. “Fuck you.” 

And before his act disappeared altogether, he turned away from what, at the end of the day, was just another victim and away from any sense of loss, and sighed, because the world was a little quieter now. 

Thank you for reading! This is my first bfu fic (and my first published fic in a while) and I can’t wait to write more!

Additional notes and acknowledgements available on ao3.

[emospritelet]

Never did this before, so hope I'm doing it right...DH Prompt 55: “ Shut up and kiss me already. ”

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Part 26] [Part 27] [Part 28] [Part 29] [Part 30] [Part 31]

Prompts all come from this list.

AO3 link

Dinner at Granny’s was an enjoyable affair; Neal and Emma proclaimed the ribs to be among the best they’d eaten, and Henry ate his burger, half of Belle’s fries and somehow still had room for apple pie.  Once the plates had been cleared and coffees poured, Gideon dozed on his father’s lap while Henry flicked through his book, explaining some of the stories within to Gold.

“Wait, so Red Riding Hood is the wolf in this?” said Gold.  “A singular interpretation.”

“Yeah, and she’s so cool!” said Henry enthusiastically.  “She helps Snow White to hide from the Evil Queen!”

“Wasn’t it always the Huntsman who helped Snow White?”

“Oh, he does, but the Queen found out and took his heart,” said Henry.  “So now he has to do whatever she says. He was raised by wolves, and he loves the forest, but she keeps him trapped in the castle.”

“Well,” said Gold.  “She sounds very unpleasant.”

“Yeah,” agreed Henry.  “But I kinda feel sorry for her.  It’s like she thinks that destroying happy endings for everyone will make her happy, but it only makes her miserable.”

“I suspect there’s a moral in there somewhere,” remarked Gold, glancing at Belle.

“Yes,” she said firmly.  “Let yourself be happy, and don’t make decisions for other people.”

She smirked at him, and he sent her a tiny grin, kissing the top of Gideon’s head.

Gold had offered to cook dinner the next night, and so Belle spent her day at the flower shop with Gideon, closing up at four and heading home.  He was already preparing food when she arrived, and Belle lifted her nose and sniffed at the scent of chocolate wafting through the kitchen.

“I made a cake,” he said.  “It’s been awhile since I baked anything.  I enjoyed it.”

The cake was cooling on a wire rack, dark and rich, and she grinned as she went to inhale its scent.

“What are you going to put on it?” she asked.  “I could make some buttercream.”

“I have fresh cream, and some raspberries,” he said.  “There’s a little framboise in the liquor cupboard as well.  Might be nice to pour on the sponge. Henry can have coulis, save the booze for the rest of us.”

Belle spied a glass jar of thick, crimson sauce, and stuck a finger in it, licking off the taste of sweetened fresh raspberries.

“So, that’s dessert sorted,” she remarked.  “Delicious. What about the rest?”

“I thought we’d keep things simple,” he said.  “Pasta?”

“The cheesier the better,” she agreed, and he grinned.

He made macaroni cheese, with garlic bread and a crisp green salad to cut the richness, and by the time Emma, Neal and Henry arrived the pasta was bubbling in the oven, the cheese sauce thick and glistening, golden brown on the top.  There was cold white wine, sharp and fruity on the tongue, and the garlic bread was fragrant, making lips and fingers slick with melted butter.  There was silence for the first ten minutes as everyone ate, but then the conversation started up.  Emma and Neal spoke about places to visit in Boston, and which areas were the best, and the easiest routes to Belle’s university.

“We pulled a few all-nighters in the library, huh Belle?” said Emma, gesturing with her fork.

“Yeah.”  Belle took a sip of wine.  “Not sure I can do that anymore.  Since having Gideon I’ve decided I need to take my sleep where I can get it.”

“I don’t want you studying so hard you make yourself ill,” said Gold, and she shook her head, running a hand over his thigh.

“It was only around exam time,” she said.  “My study technique improved, so hopefully having a baby won’t mean I’ve forgotten everything I learned.”

“Finals are a bitch,” said Emma, with feeling.  “Can I get another glass of wine?”

“Of course.”

Gold poured her the wine, offering the bottle to Neal, who held out his glass.

“Thanks,” he said.  “This mac and cheese is awesome, by the way.”

“It’s so good,” agreed Henry.  “Why isn’t yours this good, Mom?”

“Gee, thanks,” said Emma, in a flat tone, and Henry grinned at her as he held out his plate for more.

“Your mac and cheese is awesome too, babe,” Neal assured her.

“Well, now you just sound like you have to say that,” she remarked, taking a drink.

“No, I just know what to say to get more of the good stuff,” he said, with a wicked grin.

“That a fact?”  She was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling.  "You always were a smooth talker, Cassidy.“

"Good thing you can read me like a book then, huh?” he said, winking at her.

“I know when I’m being thrown a line, yeah.”

“So are you biting?” he asked, and her grin widened.

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

Neal leaned in to kiss her, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Henry made a gagging motion behind his hand, causing Gold to break into a wide smile as he reached for his wineglass.  He shared a grin with Belle, dark eyes twinkling, and clinked his glass against hers.  The wine was making her pleasantly light-headed, and she could feel herself relaxing with the comfort of good food and good company.  She kept her hand on Gold's thigh, enjoying the firm warmth of him, the closeness, and his eyes softened a little as he glanced at her, that smile still on his face.

Belle got the impression that Gold, the seasoned loner, was enjoying having guests in his house for dinner.  She realised that at the very heart of him was the soul of a person who wanted to care for others, the nurturing side that came out through the preparation of good food and wine, and the pleasure it gave him to share it.  The harshness of his earlier life, the lack of any kindness or love, had gotten in the way, creating barriers of cold stone, forbidding walls of spiked blackthorn. He had begun to break through that for Gideon, and for her, and for a moment, talking and laughing with her friends around the dinner table, she began to sense what life could be like for him, for their family, when he faced his demons and beat them.  She wondered if he felt it too; his eyes kept flicking to Neal, and to Henry, that tiny crease of puzzlement still between his brows, as though he couldn’t quite fathom how he had ended up there with a kitchen filled with chatter and laughter and the clink of glasses.

Henry had two helpings of the pasta, and after the plates had been cleared Gold handed around dishes of the chocolate cake, layered up with raspberries and cream and with raspberry liqueur soaking into the sponge.

“Dear God, that’s amazing,” said Emma, licking cream from her fork.  “I can see why you want to move in with this guy, Belle.”

“Cooking’s only the second most incredible thing he does with his hands,” said Belle, and giggled as Gold gave her a very level look.

“What’s the first?” asked Henry curiously, and Belle blushed.

“I also clean up afterwards,” said Gold blandly.

“Some nights that’s better than the other thing,” said Emma, and winked at him.

“What other thing?”

“Sleeping,” said Neal, ruffling his hair.  “Which is what you should be doing, buddy. You done with your cake?”

Henry scraped up the last of the cream and raspberry sauce, licking his spoon.

“I wanted to tell Mr Gold the story of Beauty and the Beast,” he said despondently.

“You can tell me next time,” said Gold.  “I have a feeling that story may resonate with me.”

He glanced across at Belle, reaching out to thread his fingers through hers, and she smiled at him, happy and warm and filled with contentment.  This was how their life could be. This was how it would be.

Her head ached a little the next day, the after-effects of too much wine, but she felt surprisingly well-rested, and joined Gold and Gideon in the kitchen for a breakfast of scrambled eggs with bacon and lots of hot tea.

“I think I’ll go to the shop today,” said Gold, hands cradling his cup.  “I want to go through the china inventory and polish the silver.”

“Not the most exciting job,” she remarked.  “You sure you don’t want to just chill out here with us?”

His mouth flattened a little, his fingers shifting restlessly on the white china.

“I’m feeling - I don’t know,” he mused.  “Agitated isn’t quite the right word. I feel the need to do something.  Something that won’t take too much brain power.”

“You could always do me,” she suggested innocently, and he grinned.

“Oh, later, most definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He was still grinning, his eyes twinkling, and she felt her belly lurch.

“How about Gid and I walk into town with you?” she said.  “I could pick us up some coffee from Granny’s, bring it back to the shop.”

“Sounds good.”

The day was pleasant, fat white clouds spreading across the blue of the sky, and Belle inhaled deeply as they walked along, Gold with one hand resting at the small of her back, his other wielding the cane.  The pawn shop was cool and dark, and the stroller’s wheels sounded loud on the wooden floor as she pushed it into the back room. Gold bent to unfasten Gideon’s straps, and she went back through to the shop to open the blinds, letting thin shafts of sunlight fan out across the floor.  She flipped the sign to Open, grinning to herself as she remembered Emma and Neal’s interruption.  Perhaps she could turn the lock at some point later that day and finish what she had started.

Gideon was seated on the floor when she went through to the back, solid plastic shapes in a variety of bright colours scattered on the rug in front of him. Gold had set down a hollow ball with holes to take the shapes, but Gideon was ignoring it.

“Seems more interested in chewing them than putting them through the holes,” he remarked, and Belle grinned.

“He’ll get there.”

“Undoubtedly.”

He was holding something, an old toy rabbit with a faded blue felt waistcoat, soft brown faux fur with a cream chest and shiny black beads for eyes.  She had seen it on the shelves many times, and had always felt that it looked out of place in amongst the trinkets and china and old books. She had never asked about it before, and he had never seemed to pay it any attention beyond keeping it free of dust, which made her wonder what had changed.

“What’s that?” she asked, and he looked down at the toy rabbit in his hands, as though he couldn’t remember holding it.

“Oh,” he said vaguely.  “It - it belonged to my son.  To Bailey.”

Belle bit her lip, empathy making her want to hug him.

“You kept it all this time?” she asked sadly, and he sent her a wry smile.

“It was his favourite toy,” he said.  “His mother left it behind when she took him.  I used to lie awake at night, wondering if he could sleep without it.  A stupid thing - I’m sure he found another toy to hug.”

“It’s not stupid,” she said gently, and he sighed, turning the rabbit over and over in his hands, brown ears flopping as it moved.

“Can’t bring myself to throw it out,” he said.  “This is all I have left of him, you see. No pictures.  She took those, too.”

“What - what brought this on?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.  “Perhaps - perhaps meeting Henry.  All that bright enthusiasm, the innocence of youth.  It makes me think of what I’ve missed. Perhaps Bae has his own children now, and I’ll never know them.”

He was looking wistful, his fingers clutching the brown plush body of the rabbit, and Belle took a step closer, running her hands up his back to his shoulders.  Gold let his head roll back with a sigh.

“Well, self-pity doesn’t help,” he said, almost to himself.  “My son barely knew me before he was gone, and it’s likely I’ll never see him again.  I have to accept that.”

He stepped away from her, setting the toy rabbit back on the shelf, cream-padded feet sticking out in front of it and ears flopping over its black-bead eyes.  His hand tightened over the cane as he stepped back, and Belle ran a hand over his arm, wanting to touch him, to send him reassurance.

“Did you speak to Dr Hopper?” she asked, and he turned to her, one brow lifting with a hint of surprise.

“Actually, yes,” he said.  “I have an initial appointment with him next week.”

“Maybe he can help,” she said, and he shrugged.

“It has to be better than doing nothing, doesn’t it?” he said, and slid an arm around her, pulling her a little closer.  “I also spoke to my lawyer. She wants us to go to Boston, to go through the paperwork for Gideon. I thought we might look at some properties while we’re there, if you like.”

Belle nodded, twining her arms around his neck.

“I’m looking forward to making a home with you,” she said, a little shyly, and he smiled, kissing her forehead.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he said softly.  “Home is wherever you and Gideon are. It’ll be wonderful whether it’s here or in Boston.”

She kissed him, rising up on her toes before settling back, a wide smile on her face.

“I’m glad you like Neal and Emma and Henry,” she said.  “When we move to Boston I expect we’ll have them over for dinner a lot.”

“Yes,” he said.  “Yes, I’d like that.  I’m glad you’ve made such good friends.”

Belle hesitated, unsure whether to voice the stray thought that had been creeping around in her mind since the previous night.  Curiosity won out.

“You - you seemed to watch Neal a lot,” she ventured.  “Like - like you were puzzled by something.”

Gold glanced at her, a smile twisting his mouth a little, and he stepped out of her arms, grounding the cane.

“You noticed,” he said dryly.  “Not much gets past you, does it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she said.  “But since you just admitted it, what was up?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, his jaw working a little, eyes flicking to the floor and back up.

“It’s the strangest thing,” he said slowly.  “It’s - it’s almost as though we’ve met before.  I’m certain that we haven’t, at least not to my knowledge, but it’s like there’s this thought just - just scratching away at the back of my mind and it won’t stop.”

“What do you think it means?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“Maybe we have met, and I just don’t remember it,” he said.  “Perhaps he was in the house when I went to serve a tenant with an eviction notice, or perhaps he served me in a bloody restaurant, I don’t know.  What does he do for a living?”

“Accountancy clerk,” said Belle, and Gold shrugged.

“So maybe it was that.  I don’t know. I don’t suppose it matters.”  He leaned in to kiss her forehead again. “Did you say something about coffee?”

“Yeah.”  She smiled up at him.  “I’ll take Gideon and make a run to Granny’s.  We might be able to catch Emma before she goes.”

“Give them my best, if you do,” said Gold.  “And see if Mrs Lucas has any of those excellent ginger cookies, would you?”

“On it.”

The sky had clouded over when she left the shop, the summer day unusually cool and fresh, and Belle walked quickly as she pushed the stroller up the street.  The diner was busy, and she smiled as she saw Neal, Emma and Henry seated at one of the tables, with empty plates in front of them and a guidebook resting on the table top.

“Oh, I’m glad I caught you,” she said, parking the stroller.  “I’m on a coffee run.”

“Well, sit down and have one with us,” said Emma, pulling out the chair next to her.  “Long drive ahead, so it’s caffeine all around. Except Henry.”

“I’m having cocoa with cinnamon,” put in Henry.

“We’ve decided to head up the coast, see some of the country,” added Neal. “Maybe three days or so. Thought we might drop by on the way back, if that’s okay.”

“Great!” said Belle, beaming as she lifted Gideon up.  “That would just about tie in with us travelling to Boston.  We’re going to look for an apartment there.”

“You can stay with us!” said Henry eagerly, and Emma chuckled.

“Not unless they want to sleep three to a bed, kid.”

“Yeah, I think we’ll be getting a hotel,” said Belle, with a grin.  “We can have dinner though, Henry.”

“I wanna take Mr Gold to the aquarium.”

“I’ll tell him,” said Belle, amused, bouncing Gideon on her knee.  “We went for Gideon’s birthday, remember?”

“We went for Dad’s birthday,” corrected Henry, in a dry tone.  “He just pretended it was for Gideon.”

“Yeah, well, only a day in it,” said Neal, shrugging, and tapped Gideon’s nose with a finger, making him giggle. “You almost shared a birthday with your Uncle Neal, kid.  We were looking at double celebrations if you could have just held out for a little longer. Maybe matching T-shirts, or something.”

“There’s more excuses for cake this way,” said Henry, and Belle grinned, smiling up at the waitress as coffee was poured for her.

“Well, when Gideon turns two, we’ll be in Boston,” she said.  “So we can all celebrate together.”

“Are you and Mr Gold gonna get married?” asked Henry suddenly.  “You could have more babies together. I bet Gideon would like a brother.  I’d like a brother.”

Neal and Emma exchanged an amused look.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Belle, trying not to grin.  “We’ll have to see how things go.”

Henry grumbled something under his breath about ‘we’ll see’ meaning ‘never’, and opened up his storybook. Neal picked up his coffee cup.

“He’s a fan of true love,” he remarked.

“It’s sweet,” said Belle, in an undertone.  “And honestly, remembering how I felt just a few short weeks ago - optimism is a good thing.  I want things to work out.”

“Sometimes that’s half the battle,” said Emma, taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah,” said Belle slowly.  “I don’t think it’s gonna be easy, especially knowing some of the stuff Alex has to work through, but he’s getting therapy for that, and I know he wants to try.  I know he wants to do his best for us, and I need that. I want Gideon to grow up as part of a happy family, which includes his father.”

“At least he’s trying,” agreed Neal.  “More than my mother ever did.”

“What do you remember about your mother?” asked Belle, and Neal wrinkled his nose.

“Dark hair, and pretty, I guess,” he said.  “Kind of intense. I remember the last conversation I had with her, when she left me with Social Services.  She said she wouldn’t be gone long, she just needed a break. Begging me to understand, while I just couldn’t stop crying.  Never saw her again.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Belle sadly, and he shrugged.

“Yeah.  Kind of tried to forget her as I got older,” he said.  “Took every step I could think of to cut her out of my life, to make myself into someone else.”

“Was that hard?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“Some things were easier to let go of than others,” he said.  “I mean - Bailey Bonny? Not really me, you know?”

Belle blinked.

“Bailey Bonny?” she said curiously, and he sent her a wry smile.

“One benefit of hanging out with the wrong crowd was being able to get a new identity, no questions asked,” he said.  “I changed my name. Became someone else.”

“I didn’t know,” said Belle, surprised.

“Like I said.”  He took another sip of coffee.  “Tried to forget.”

“Right,” she said.  “So, your original surname was Bonny?”

Neal set down his cup, licking his lips.

“Well, my mother’s surname,” he said.  “She used to say she shared the name of a famous pirate - Ann Bonny - and that she called me Bailey after a sailor she met once.  Always did love the sea. Guess I thought it was cool as a little kid. When she left - well, I soon figured I needed my own name.  Milah Bonny was the woman who abandoned me. Didn’t need the constant reminder.”

“Milah.”  Belle’s heart began to thump hard in her chest.  “That’s - an unusual name.”

Neal shrugged, wrinkling his nose.

“I guess.”

“Was she - was she Scottish?”

He shook his head.

“English.  My dad was Scottish, though.  Or so she said.”

“Right.”  Belle’s hands tightened around her cup.  “And - and what do you know about him?”

“Not much,” he said wryly.  “They met in Glasgow. He worked a lot.  Too much, according to her. Never liked to have any fun, always the responsible one.  She made it sound like that was a bad thing. Where I got my brown eyes, too.”

“So - were you born over there, or over here?”

“Oh, I was born in northern England,” he said.  “Newcastle, would you believe? Although from what I can tell we moved around a lot in England and Scotland when I was a baby.  My mother said we came over here when I was like two, so I can’t say I remember anything of the old place. Living in the US is all I’ve ever known.  We were in Florida for awhile, I know that. Always moving, never settled. And then one day it was a trip to Social Services, and she was gone, and I was in the system.”

It was said lightly, as though he didn’t care, but Belle suspected it had affected him deeply.  Emma was chewing her lip, looking troubled, and Belle hesitated before speaking.

“So - you changed your name,” she said.  “And - and you don’t know your dad’s name?  Did you ever try to look for him?”

“Oh, sure!” he said immediately.  “Just as soon as I was old enough to realise what I needed to do and the kinds of questions I needed to ask.  Trouble was, I had no family other than my mother - and she never came back. So there was no one I could ask about my dad, and when I got my birth certificate there was no name on there, so…”  He shrugged. “Nothing. Don’t even know if the guy she told me about was really my dad.”

“Do you remember anything about him?” asked Belle, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Not really,” he admitted.  “Just - really vague sort of stuff.  Like memories of memories, if that makes sense.  Nothing solid. Nothing I could describe, anyway.”

“Right,” she said absently, and Emma drained her cup, setting it down.

“Come on guys, we’d better hit the road.”

Henry closed his book with a thump, and Belle stood up, bouncing Gideon in her arms.  Emma hugged her, and kissed Gideon’s head.

“We’ll call when we’re on the way back,” she said.

“Yeah, we’ll give you warning this time,” added Neal, with a grin.  “See if you can keep things PG in the shop, okay?”

Belle sent him a level look, and he grinned, hugging her and Gideon.

“Bye, Belle,” said Henry cheerfully, throwing his arms around her before picking up his book.

“Drive safely,” she called after them, and watched them leave, Neal’s arm resting around Henry’s shoulders.

Belle chewed her lip, thinking hard.  Coincidence.  It has to be coincidence.  It can’t be true, that would be crazy.  There must be hundreds of people called Milah.  With Scottish exes. Who took their sons away from their fathers around age two.

She shook her head, and set Gideon back in the stroller, making her way to the counter to order two takeout coffees and four stem ginger cookies.  Her mind was whirling, and she barely registered the coffees being set in front of her. The scent of the cookies in their brown paper bag brought her back to the present, and she paid, uttering thanks in an absent voice before turning back to the door.  She needed to talk to Gold.

She was chewing her lip thoughtfully as she walked, one hand on the stroller and the other carrying the cardboard tray with its coffee cups.  Gold appeared to spy her through the shop window, and strode quickly to the door, taking the coffees from her. Belle pushed the stroller through to the back room.

“Did you catch Emma?” he asked, and she bent to unbuckle Gideon, lifting him out to sit on the floor with his coloured blocks again.

“I did,” she said, straightening up.  “They’re heading up the coast. Coming back in a few days.  I said we could have dinner again before they head back to Boston.”

“Ah.”

He took a sip of coffee, wincing a little at the heat of it before setting it on his workbench, and Belle bent to retrieve the paper bag of cookies from the stroller.

“Tell me about your son,” she said.  “You said his name was Bailey. Did - did he have your last name?”

Gold gave her a wry smile.

“No.  Milah’s.  As I said, I was never named as his father.  Should have taken steps to change that, but alas…”

He shrugged resignedly, and she chewed her lower lip.

“So - what was her surname?”

“Bonny,” he said, and Belle swallowed.

“And - and you said you weren’t there when he was born,” she said.  “So was that in your hometown, or—”

“No, no, he was born in Newcastle, in the north of England,” said Gold, running a hand through his hair.  “I think she spent a year or so there, from what I remember her saying. Probably the longest she stayed anywhere.”

His tone was rueful.  Belle could feel her heart thudding in her chest.

“When was his birthday?” she asked.

“First of May,” he said immediately.

“The day after Gideon’s,” she said, under her breath.

“Yes,” he said, with a smile, and glanced at her.  “Why all the questions?”

She hesitated, but raised her chin.

“Because I think I might have found him.”

[kee-writestrashh]

To Marry a Bastard

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3 

summary:  Before there were the Bastard’s Bitches, the Black Sheep, the Wicked Ones, and the Red King’s to worry about there was only the Bastard’s Boys. Before there was a bun in the oven there was a possessive, obsessive love. There was raw emotion. There was a rowdy group of men who frequented a small, hole in wall, bar…. There was something evil behind that smirk. But there was also something needing and wanting behind those cold blue eyes.

**prequel to Guns for Hire

Chap 1 || Chap 2 

chapter song

Chapter 3: ‘Cuz This is THRILLER

×××Ramsay×××

”You’re late.” Roose said in his usual cool tone.

Ramsay frowned, but placed his jacket over the back of the chair and sat, rolling up his sleeves a little. For the end of October the days were still unseasonably warm. He pulled at his tie a bit and relaxed into the handsome leather chair before speaking. “Apologies, father. Traffic was a disaster. There was a wreck apparently.”

”Never mind that now. We have business to discuss.” Roose said curtly, setting his pen down and pushing the papers he was signing away from him.

”Yes, yes. Numbers. Everything is in working order. Why can’t I work here? Do you have any idea how much I hate the bank?” Ramsay said, words tumbling slightly.

”I have told you. I don’t trust anyone with our money but us. I need you at the bank to make sure everything is taken care of.”

Ramsay sighed, feeling ruffled. He could still do the same work by working here in the family company. Domeric did. “Yes but—“

”There are no buts Ramsay.” Roose cut across him. His voice never raised, but there was a finality in his tone to not be challenged.

Ramsay tutted, turning his eyes to the window to avoid looking at his father. Always being reprimanded like some child. It stung. Never as good as perfect little Domeric. Fucking prick. “Well, all accounts are accounted for. However, it has come to my attention that account c-one ten has made no change in two months.”

Roose considered his son in a few moments silence before nodding. “Take care of it.”

Ramsay turned his eyes back to his father and raised a brow. “How?”

”Any way you see fit.”

Ramsay cracked a wide, maliciously insane smile. “And the losses?”

”Will be picked up and added elsewhere.”

Ramsay nodded, still wearing his manic grin. “If that is all then... It’s Halloween. I have a fun night planned.”

”Then you will call your brother from the city jail and not me.” Roose said dismissively, picking up his pen again and turning back to the papers before him.

×××(y/n)×××

"Your skirt could be just a bit shorter." Olyvar said, bumping you out of the way of the mirror with his bony hip, to finish his zombie make up.

"Probably. But, I'd rather not be molested by ghosts and ghouls tonight." You chuckled, placing your fox ears on.

"Fair." Olyvar nodded. "You know, I was thinking... Maybe throwing you a big party. Kinda like a twenty first birthday, friendiversary kind of thing. I mean, you've been here three years now, and I couldn't imagine a more fun coworker than you."

You turned to Olyvar and beamed, "You don't have to do that. It's not a big deal. Just hanging out with you is enough of a party."

"Well, yes, but..." Olyvar shrugged. "Are we ready to have a monster mash?"

"Only if it's a graveyard smash." You winked with a giggle and leaving the bathroom of your apartment.

There was something about this little bar that you loved. Maybe it was the sense of freedom it brought you after your abrupt leave from home and never looking back. It was a fresh start, and at 18 when you had taken the job, you couldn't have been anymore grateful. You also loved the people who came in. Regardless of status or occupation, they were all here to have a good time, and you would make sure to deliver. You and Olyvar were a seamless team, and the Old Man, as you called your boss, well, he made sure to pay you both well for the fantastic job you both did in keeping the place well beyond the 'up to scratch' mark.  

The costumes filling up the bar were grand. Some well thought out, others made you giggle. You stood behind the bar, filling orders, exchanging cash, and reminding people to enter the costume contest. The music upbeat, and Halloween classics in between dances. It was probably your favorite holiday at the bar. Sure, Christmas was fun, but all in all, watching people get hammered in naughty nurse and Pyramid Head costumes was the highlight of the year.

xxx(Ramsay)xxx

"Oh cheer up. She was a whore, and you knew that in high school." Ramsay tutted, adjusting one of his cufflinks and smoothing out his tie.

Alyn looked over the top of his glass and frowned at Ramsay, "Okay, yeah sure. But Skinner?"

Ramsay shrugged, "He has class. And he's a lawyer, and he lives in the land of always sunny and warm. Get over yourself. Just fuck half the bitches that show up on your Tinder and call it even. Now come on, we have fun shit to do."

"Like?"

"Well, we have a insufficient funds account to dispose of, and then we are going to get hammered. Ben and Damon should have the account moved by now." Ramsay said, placing his fedora jauntily atop his head and giving a haughty sniff.

Alyn sighed and gave Ramsay a look over, "Capone?"

"Mhm." Ramsay hummed, lighting a cigarette, nudging Alyn's foot with a wingtipped shoe and making his way to the door. "I've been dying for an excuse to use a Tommy, and what better way to do it than on Halloween, masquerading as Al Capone?"

"Fair." Alyn said, finally standing from the couch and following Ramsay out the door.

It was a quick drive across town. The sun had just started to set and children were beginning to emerge in their Batman and Elsa costumes. Something about Halloween made Ramsay giddy and animated. Maybe it was the mix of candies and alcohol. The fact that he could wear blood on him in public, and no one would think twice about it. Or just simply for the fact that mentally, as smart as he was, Ramsay was often childlike in his actions.

He and Alyn got out of the car behind an old warehouse the Boltons kept for tax purposes. They no longer stored manufactured goods here, but it still brought a tax break. And it was a secure place that Roose had allotted for Ramsay to 'take out the trash' when it involved family business means. Though, Ramsay was left on his own when he was to play his games for his own leisure purposes. Business only. And tonight it was business before party.

They entered the building to find Damon and Ben already set up. More or less. Damon and Ben sat at a small table in the corner, playing cards, waiting on Ramsay to show up and take care of the man they had gagged and bound to a chair. Alyn wandered over to take a seat with Damon and Ben, who didn't even bother to give a look at who had entered. All of this was like walking through motions. They Boys knew what to expect, and so they just let their boss get on with it.

Ramsay crossed to the man in the chair, kneeling down before his victim and cracked a wide, manic grin. He took in the beads of sweat forming in the man's hairline and popping eyes. He already smelt like piss and regret. Perhaps this wouldn't be as fun as he had anticipated, maybe he should just gut the fucker and go drown in a bottle of whiskey. "I suppose you know why you're here?" He said sweetly to the man.

At once the man tried to shift in his seat and speak out. The gag obscured his words however, and that seemed to send him into a heavier panic. Tugging harder at the cuffs on his hands and feet. Squirming this way and that at the rope around his chest. Eyes now bulging with fear when Ramsay pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped the blade open. He could hear the panicked breathing as he placed the knife to the man's cheek.

"You haven't paid anything in two months. That's not how it works. Not a fucking charity here. And judging by your shoes, you aren't a charity fucking case. Two hundred dollars a week for six months really wasn't a bad idea. And now a little girl is going to be without a father. Her mother already a drunk. And no daddy there to stand between the two. Sad time's we're living in, pal. But you did do it to yourself." Ramsay sneered, pressing the blade into the man's cheek. The man made more aggressive movements and more muffled pleading, but Ramsay had already grown bored.

"Dame, come hold his head. I wasn't a clear throat here." Ramsay snapped, glancing over at the Boys.

Damon jumped up from his seat and crossed the room quickly, taking the man's sweaty hair in his fingers and forcing his head up. It was a quick slice, spattering Ramsay in blood. He gave a satisfied smirk before wiping the blade off on his sleeve. He closed the blade and returned it to his pocket as he shook back the sleeve of his suit jacket and checked the time. "We have...?"

"A wood chipper out back." Ben said, tossing cards down and turning to look at Ramsay.

"Oh goodie." Ramsay chuckled, looking down at the bleeding out mess before him. "Well first, one of you get the Tommy. I've been itching to shoot it. And then we will dump him in the chipper, and drinks are on me all night."

"Where we going?" Damon asked, wiping his hands off on his pants.

"That one place." Ramsay said, waving a careless hand.

"Ah. Gonna make eyes at the chick behind the counter, but still not talk to her, huh?" Damon chuckled, giving Ramsay a wink.

Ramsay snorted, "Yeah, something like that." He nodded. How the girl had been plaguing his mind for days on end now, and he wasn't sure why. He usually didn't obsess over people. He was materialistic. He didn't form attachment. Not to anyone other than Damon, who had been his friend for the last twenty years. But something about the woman, (Y/N) Damon had said, had caught his attention and refused to let go. Like some kind of invisible bond that neither were aware of. But he was going to change that.  

---

"Oh my goodness, go turn the AC up or something. I'm fucking melting over here." You said when Olyvar passed you.

It was only 10 pm and you were so ready to go home. Slinging drinks was turning into a sloppy mess, thanks to those who were overly intoxicated. Your eyes continuously falling on a group of men in the back corner who were laughing and carrying on. Chicks here and there stopping to pay them attention, and occasionally flash their tits that were already falling out of their tops. You noticed that two of them were guys from a few nights ago that had caught your attention then too. Olyvar commented on this many times.

"Just go talk to them, bring them refills or something." He coaxed many times.

However, you had declined each time. Your face flushing every time you even caught the profile of the shortest one of the group. His dark hair, hauntingly blue eyes, and that wicked smirk. His costume was your favorite by far. Because it was more realistic than most you had seen throughout the night. You shook your head, remembering what you were supposed to be doing and pulling your eyes away from the loud group. One idiot, lively and animated, climbing up on the table and telling some wild story that only bits and pieces you could make out over the other patrons talk and laughter, and loud music from all around.

You had kept yourself busy by filling more drinks, cutting people off, and calling cabs for those that were too drunk to make the call themselves.

Turning when you felt the presence of a customer behind you, you felt your cheeks redden and air leave your lungs. He was even cuter up close, and he knew it. His bold grin told you so.

"Shot of Jack." He said, looking past you.

"Sure thing." You said almost breathlessly, grabbing a shot glass and the bottle behind you.

As you slid the glass across the counter he brushed your hand with his. He glanced up and looked at you.

And is was as if the world had fallen away. You could have sworn he drew a sharp breath as your heart skipped many beats. Your face warmed and you looked away quickly, pulling your hand back awkwardly.

He threw back the shot, set the glass down gently, and slid a crisp $100 across the counter.

"Keep the change, doll." He hummed, standing from the stool and sliding an old receipt toward you as well.

You opened your mouth to speak but he had already walked away, and was heading out of the bar with the group of men he had come in with.

You took the money and the receipt. It had a number written on it. As if in a hurry.

You fell into the seat of your car and pulled your phone out.

[You: you gave me your number but didn't leave a name.]

You stared down at your phone, wondering if he would...

[unknown: let me take you out on a date Wednesday night and I'll give you a name. Goodnight, doll.]

[You: deal. Goodnight, mysterious nobody.]

[a-toon-out-of-toontown]

Chapter five

Again this is may 11th, so i have no idea if this is it or not, i would have probably made an update to say whether or not this is it so fdashasdkjsdklshkj maybe last chapter for now? Maybe not, i cant see the future

That was one of the worst decisions of my life. I ended up staying up staying up past midnight watching those stupid movies. Which meant I didn't get much sleep. So it took a lot of energy to drag me out of bed.

I got dressed, putting on that stupid resistance ranger outfit. Ever since storm sellbot, it's been mandatory for all resistance rangers to wear them while on duty, and my mom thinks it looks cute when we all match as a family. I thought it was stupid, but my mom forces me to wear it anyways.

I went to the kitchen, glancing at the clock on the stove as I went. All I saw was the hour, 12. I stopped, it's noon?! I looked back at the clock, and it read 12:30. Nonononono… I can't be late! I ran out of the kitchen as fast as I could, knocking over a flowerpot as I went. I grabbed my keys and portable hole and ran out the door.

I teleported to toontown central and I arrived outside of toon hall. I opened the door, walked down the hall to the right and entered the break room located at the end of the hallway. Instead of finding a room full of people, I only saw the toon hall cook, an elderly bear by the name of Madam Daphne.

"Hey Daphne, I said looking around, where is everyone?"

She looked up from her cooking. "Oh hello, Miss Bubbles it so nice to see you! You must be wondering where everyone is, the meeting still hasn't ended yet. Flippy had mentioned that it should take longer before it started." She paused, "whatever is going on I know it's serious business, even Lord Lowden showed up"

"really? I asked surprised, he only comes to meetings when he absolutely has too"

"Yeah, she replied, I wonder what could have happened"

She glanced towards the door to the meeting room,

"not that they tell me anything, I'm just the cook."

I walked over to the trays of food, lunch wasn't put out yet so it was just filled with dainties, and 4 pitchers of iced tea were at the end of the table. I took one of the cups beside it and poured myself some. When I took a sip I was overwhelmed by how sweet it was. I had to put it down.

"What's wrong bubbles? Daphne asked, is there something wrong with the drink?"

"no, I said as I picked up the glass, it tastes really good." I smiled as I took another sip, "it's as good as it always is!"

"oh that's good, I was worried for a second."

I looked into the cup, I guess the coffee had affected my taste for sweet things.

Just then the meeting room opened to reveal the toon council had finally finished their meeting. First walked out Flippy and my father, who were in the middle of a very serious sounding conversation.

Julia and Charlotte followed close behind laughing about something they were talking about.

Then the rest of the council filed out with Lowden and Ace holding up the rear.

"Hey Miss Bubbles, called Daphne as she was holding a tray of pizza, could you help me put these out on the table?"

"sure," I replied as I went around the counter and into the kitchen area.

I grabbed two of the pizzas, one in each arm, and followed Daphne out of the kitchen. Once we had placed them on the table I was pulled aside by my mother.

"Hey Bubbles, said, nice to see you! How are you?"

"I'm fine, I replied, how was the meeting?"

"It was good, she replied, we were mostly discussing the attack we did on the sellbot factory."

Just then my dad walked over "which I had a major role in, if it wasn't for me we probably would have failed"

My mother rolled her eyes, "Nick come on that's not true, it was mostly planned by Ace and his son, and we led the team together."

He was silent for a moment as if he was not sure what his response should be, then he said, "boy am I hungry, whats for lunch?"

Julia sighed, "it's pizza," she said as she pointed to the table.

Before he could leave Lord Lowden approached my parents.

"Nick, Julia, I just wanted to congratulate you on the attack on the factories. Without you those new cog goons would have been produced and taking back toontown would have become so much harder."

"well, my mom replied, that's what we're here for. Will you be staying for lunch?"

"No, I won't, he replied, I have things to attend to, which is unfortunate because it smells lovely. Bye Nick, Julia and Bubbles."

"Bye Lowden, my mother replied, don't work too hard."

He smiled and then turned around and headed towards the door.

Once he was gone, my mother spoke, "he works too hard, he practically never leaves his office."

My father nodded, then he turned towards the food. Toons had already begun to line up and some had already begun eating.

Seeing my mother's unamused expression return, he walked towards the line "Woah hold up there, make sure there's enough left for me."

My mother rolled her eyes and turned to me, "we should probably get some food, Daphne is a great cook and I really don't want to miss this pizza."

Once lunch was done, it was time for the public half of the meeting. This gives toons the opportunity to voice their opinions and concerns. It was brought into effect a couple years after Flippy with overwhelming support. I walked into the room and sat by the back of the room. One one side was a row of chairs where the council would sit, and about four or five where the toon population would sit.

There also was a roped off section where the media would sit. I sat at the far back and watched as the room filled up with toons.

I mostly kept to myself, and only a couple of toons looked in my general direction. A couple of the regular toons that came frequently waved in my direction and I waved back, but I did it very subtly.

It took about 10 minutes, but finally, the council entered the room. The chatter in the room subsided as they took their seats. Once Flippy had gotten to his chair everyone was silent.

"Now, before we begin today I would like to remind everyone that gags are not to be used in this building under any circumstance unless, by some very slim chance a cog is to find its way here, we don't want a repeat of 2012."

A roar of laughter came from the toons and rolled my eyes. Every time we start a toon council meeting they announce this and every time toons find it funny.

After the laughter subsided, Flippy continued. "Now, first things first, we as the toon council would like to thank both Ace and the Wildspeed duo for their bravery in sabotaging the creation of these new cog goons"

A round of applause came from the crowd and both my parents and Ace stood up. My father was about to say something when my mother interrupted him.

"It is a great honour to be able to help the citizens of toontown, we do this not for ourselves but for you and for the freedom of our home."

The crowd applauded again as they sat down and Flippy waited for the crowd to quiet down before continuing.

"Now, we will move on to the question period, we will start with the media, he turned and faced the roped off section, now who wants to go first?"

An aqua rabbit stood up. "You there, said Flippy, what is your question?"

"Hello Flippy, toon council, she began, My name is April and I'm from Toontown news for the amused. I have been doing a lot of research lately and what I've found is quite startling. I've noticed that cogs are having a better success rate with taking over task buildings, and when the building is taken back, another cog is there to take it back. It started first with the sellbots but now it seems that all the branches have gotten the information. The new anti stun cog goons, something the cogs themselves were not able to develop for years, but suddenly out of nowhere there able to come up with this? The answer is simple, we've been betrayed by one of our own, maybe not just one."

The crowd gasped and Flippy's face went from a look of happiness to a look of worry.

April continued "My question is this, has the toon council done any research on this topic? I feel like this is a very important issue."

My parents went to stand up, but Flippy gestured for them to sit down.

He cleared his throat "are you questioning my competence? Do you not think I've noticed this and have made sure there is no rat amongst us? I can't believe you would ask me something like this."

"well, asked April, is there a rat? I noticed you looked worried, is there something you're hiding?"

"HOW DARE YOU, Flippy yelled, THAT'S IT, IF ALL YOU'RE GOING TO DO IS ATTACK ME, MEETING ADJOURNED." and with that, he stormed out of the room.

Charlotte stood up from her chair and went over to where Flippy had just been "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut this meeting short. Now like always there will be refreshments and snacks-"

An ice blue mouse ran up and whispered something in her ear.

Charlotte nodded and resumed speaking "actually there will not be refreshments, so um, yeah. I hope everyone has a toontastic day!"

With that, the toon council awkwardly shuffled out, not sure what just happened. Slowly but surely, everyone else began to file towards the exit, confused chatter filled the hall. I saw the news reporter who asked the question still sitting in her chair.

A dark green dog walked up behind her and sat down beside her. I didn't stay to hear what they were saying, I turned around and left once the crowds were gone.

I found my parents standing outside, having a very serious sounding discussion. It took them a while to finish so I sat on the steps of toon hall and watched the clouds roll by.

After what felt like an hour my mother tapped me on the shoulder. "Come along Bubbles, she said, its time we go home."

After every toon council, we have a tradition where we have dinner together as a family. So together we went to my parent's estate. When we got there I was greeted by two very excited doodles, which knocked me over, covering me in slobber.

"Calm down Macbeth, Juliet, I pet them both on the head, it's nice to see you."

My parents who were walking in front of me turned and saw what had happened. They both burst out laughing. It took them a second to compose themselves, then my mother called both doodles over. I got up from the grass and brushed myself off. I walked into the house, my parents were already in the kitchen. I walked in, and they were in the midst of another serious discussion.

My mother turned to me, "Miss Bubbles, we're going to need you to leave us for a minute, we need to discuss something important."

"does this have something to do with flippy storming out today?"

"yes, she replied, I hope you don't mind."

"I don't, I replied, I can keep myself occupied. I can feed the doodles."

"perfect! We won't be long."

I contemplated eavesdropping, but if they found me they might become suspicious. I would get the notes from the meeting, so I could present that to the VP tomorrow.

I got the food out from the cupboard and walked outside. I poured the food into their bowls and called them over. I stepped out of the way before I got trampled again. I looked towards the door, nothing so I decided to sit in the shade of my old tree house. As the clouds rolled by, I thought of what I was going to give to the VP on Monday.

My parents always send me the notes from the meeting so I'll have that. They have literally no reason to give them to me, but they think it's good for me to stay in the know. Little do they know it's going to be used against them. I guess I could talk about Flippy storming out of the hall, cause that was interesting.

What if there was a way to, I don't know, take down the toon council from the inside? Flippy did seem worried about something, more than just the toons who broke the anti cogism act. Maybe Flippy isn't at all what he seems, what other secrets could he be hiding?

Before I could think about it further, Juliet came and sat beside me, halting my train of thought.

"Hey Juliet, I said as I scratched behind her ear, how's it going?"

She barked.

"Good? That's good to hear."

I looked up at the sky, and I noticed the sun had already begun to set. I got up from under the tree and stretched, sitting in one place for so long was not fun.

Just then my mother burst outside. "Miss Bubbles? Where are you?"

"I'm here mom, I said still standing beneath the tree, is everything ok?"

She sighed, "yes everything is fine, your father and I were just talking about things, more specifically the anti cogism act. We believe our stance has changed on the matter."

"how so?" I asked.

"We don't believe it should be kept from the public, the news reporter today told us this. The toons of toontown deserve to know the truth."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry Bubbles, she said, but we're going to have to postpone until next week, I hope that's ok."

"that's fine, I replied, I hope everything gets sorted out."

She sighed, "me too" She was silent for a moment, then she continued, "that reminds me, I have something for you."

She pulled out a brown paper bag and handed it to me.

"What is this?" I asked as I inspected the outside of the bag. "They're sugar cookies, she replied, I was hoping we would be able to decorate them today, but I guess we never got the chance. I'll make a new batch for next week, so you can have these."

"thanks, mom, but I should probably be getting home."

"I hope you have a wonderful evening and I'm sorry again about today."

"its fine, it's completely fine."

I was about to teleport to my estate when she stopped me.

"Wait I almost forgot, here are the notes from the meeting."

"thank you, I replied, see you next Sunday?"

She smiled "like always. Bye Bubbles."

"Bye mom," I replied as I jumped into my teleport hole.

When I got back to my estate, I put down the cookies at the door and managed to find a pencil and paper. I put the reports off to one side and put the paper in front of me. It was time to get this ready for the VP.

[legion1993]

What Happens When You Bring Home A Unknown Substance

Title: What Happens When You Bring Home A Unknown Substance

Square Filled: Tentacle Porn

Ship: Tentacle x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Vaginal Penetration, Anal Penetration, impregnation, choking, gagging, double penetration, talking tentacle monster

Summary (If applicable): you head out on a hunt but it turns into something that brings your inner curiousity to a whole new level, upon bringing this new specimen back to your home, you finish your shower and things begin to go wrong…

Word Count (If applicable): 2,977

Created for @spnkinkbingo.

Masterlist   kink masterlist

To say your curiousity always gets the better of you is an understatement… to say that hunting alone is a good idea is also an understatement… but to whoever said expect the unexpected, why did you have to be right…

You had just finished dealing with a witch sitch, you ganked her but she left behind this strange plant… you took a piece of it for observation and research… you headed home with the substance/plant/thing, and you could have sworn that it grew like 3 times bigger by the time you reached your apartment…

You brought it inside and left it on the table in your dinning room, going to the bathroom you stripped off all your clothes leaving the trail of clothing you would later clean up but not realizing that the plant/substance thing was actually alive…

You were in the shower, you couldn’t hear anything, you didn’t hear several things break, your couches being rearranged, your tables being smashed, that plant thing had grown to full strength and all it had to do was wait till you got back…

You were humming as you got out of the shower, you had some correspondence with people, other hunters who loved a fascinating scientific discovery as much as you did… you would contact them when you were done… but that is when you heard it, the loud crash of glass or ceramic breaking on the floor…

Y/N (to self): “what the hell was that?”

Then you heard whispers, almost as if it was calling out to you… you were cautious, you pulled out your knife and exited the bathroom, there was slime and stuff all over the floor and walls… you were appauled…

Y/N (to self): “fucking hell is this shit, I just took a shower…”

But the closer you got to your living room, the louder those whispers got…

Tentacle (whispers): “come to me…”

You follow the slime and whispers very carefully… your entire body convulsing like you wanted to throw up… it smelt like you were walking into a room right after an orgy had just gone down… but you entered your living room only to have your ankles bound and your knife knocked out of your hands, your attention fully focused on the big monster standing in your living room, but what they didn’t know was that you had a spare alarm of sorts…

Tentacle: “do you know what I am…”

You shake your head trying to reach your bag to answer your buzzing phone…

Y/N: “excuse me but can I please have some slack to reach my phone and answer it cause its work calling….”

The monster was compliant he let you get to your phone and answer the call you knew exactly who it was…

Dean (over phone): “is everything ok?”

Y/N: “its fine, just a little tied up with slime, but if you want me to come in please let me know now…”

Dean (over phone): “im on my way…”

You hung up the call, and tossed your phone behind you, it slid across the slime… you feared what look was befallen your form, one of the tentacles on the monster made its way up your body to pull off your towel… to which you were then pulled down onto your ass, you didn’t even have time to think before the feeling of slime filled your skin, you became unable to move…

Tentacle: “here is what I am, I am a tentacle plant, I sometimes come to life and rape beautiful women, in hopes of getting them pregnant and having them birth some more of my species… but half the time it doesn’t work… so here I go with you, that witch gave me some human characteristics and some shapeshifting abilities, but if I use them it wont be out of random, it will be to torture you…”

Y/N: “no please don’t do this, im a virgin… I can’t…”

Tentacle: “well this will be even more fun…”

The tentacles were holding your arms and legs spread apart, you were instantly scared not only were you being held in a pile of slime by some rapey tentacles, you tried struggling, but you soon found your mid section was being held down, your throat being wrapped in tentacle, but that’s where it all started…

Tentacle: “you make too much noise little girl…”

That’s when the monster stuck one of his tentacles in your mouth shifting it to look like a giant massive black cock… you gagged, you choked, but he thrust it deeper and deeper into your throat harder every time… you tried to scream against it but everytime you tried to scream, the tentacle in your mouth grew…

There were tears blurring your vision, the tentacles still swarmed your body, fondling your breasts making you squirm, making you try to break free of their grip… but it was soon that you felt like you couldn’t breathe…

Tentacle: “your about to pass out, good, lets see what I can do to you before you wake up again…”

Your eyes shut, you were trapped in your own head, great alone with your inner demons… while the tentacle monster had made his big form somewhat human looking, you were fighting your inner demons, this meant you needed to find a way to wake up, you had no ideas…

Meanwhile the tentacle monster had made two of his tentacles start playing with your nipples, the rest were still roaming your body, the monster was having some fun, seeing how far he could go before you would wake… that’s when Dean tried calling again, your phone buzzing against the floor, but no answer…

Dean (to self): “ok I need to connect with her some other way…”

That’s when castiel showed up beside Dean…

Dean: “jesus Christ cas you scared the living shit out of me…”

Cas: “why do you seem panicked?”

Dean: “its Y/N she is in trouble, something about slime and being tied up…”

Cas: “actually I was coming originally to tell you that a tentacle monster is loose in Y/Ns area… but there is something else you should know Dean… you and her have a connection… your parents said that you and Sam were their only children, that’s not true, you have a twin…”

Dean stops the car in the middle of the highway…

Dean: “IM SORRY WHAT?”

Cas: “Y/N is your twin… your parents split you both up incase something bad were to happen… she was living in an orphanage… but the people in the orphanage one of them specifically the one who was assigned to watch out for your twin was a hunter, she passed away by the hands of a werewolf who came after your sister… your parents kept this from you because together you have tremendous abilities… all of which would make you guys fantastic hunters… their only option was to give you guys as normal a life as possible by splitting you guys up…”

Dean: “so wait she is my twin… she is family… wait so everyone but me and Sammy knew about this…”

Cas: “pretty much…”

Dean: “I need you to do me a favor, I need you to mind meld me with my sister… I fear that she may be in greater trouble right now and its making me anxious…”

Cas puts his fingers to Dean’s forhead and the next thing Dean knows he is in a dark place, he walks around a bit before he sees some light… your silhouette in the middle of it, he approaches you…

Dean: “Y/N…”

You look up…

Y/N: “Dean, is that you?”

Dean: “of course it is… can you explain whats happening…”

Y/N: “im being raped by a freaky tentacle monster that’s why im crouched in a ball form… he stripped me of my clothes, if your on your way here I hope you have something for me to wear… cause there is no way im gonna be able to wear anything small and tight like I got…”

Dean: “Y/N, cas told me something about us, about you…”

You look at Dean being careful not to show anything…

Dean: “you and I are twins… mom and dad separated us because we have abilities that together could make us really powerful hunters… but don’t worry im coming to bring you home…”

Y/N: “if he hears you he is gonna impregnate me… he wants to impregnate me… Dean this witch I killed spelled him, gave him shapeshifting abilities and some human characteristics… you need to get to me as soon as possible… but warning there is slime everywhere, I mean literally all over the walls, floors, furniture, im pretty sure I don’t have any of my clothing left that isn’t covered in it…”

Dean: “its ok we will replace whatever we need to once back home… trust me sis your coming home…”

You at that moment tried to smile but instead started screaming… Dean moving back from you watched as you disappeared… he was then back in his own body…

Dean: “its still another 10 hours to her place, lets see if we can cut down the time…”

Dean puts petal to the metal as he takes off down the highway… meanwhile tentacles were teasing your clit, your holes and everything, but the tentacle that was still in your mouth had already shot several loads into your mouth… not even giving you a chance to breathe…

Tentacle: “she is about to wake… we must finish the penetration…”

That’s when you opened your eyes, you felt the slimey tentacles slithering across your vaginal and anal holes… you shoke your head but gagged on the tentacle that was in your mouth… then once again you were violated… a tentacle slithered across your vaginal hole, you shivered and tried to struggle but you couldnt move…

Tentacle: “im sorry deary I wish it didn’t have to be this way but I don’t want you getting away from me before I have a chance to plant my seed…”

You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you were completely helpless… to say you didn’t feel when your vagina and ass got penetrated was an understatement the tentacle monster made sure you felt everything…

First he went in your vagina you screamed gagging against the tentacle which had grown again… you were trying to stay calm but you didn’t remain calm at all, you were scared, you tried to not let your mind get overwhelmed, you tried to convey a connection with Dean’s thoughts, trying to see if you and your new found twin have a psychic connection…

Nothing worked but you didn’t give up you tried anything to distract you from what was actually happening to you… you couldn’t believe that you were loosing your virginity to this slimey ass tentacle monster… but the worse of this was just about to happen, the more he thrust into your vagina, the bigger he got, then he sent another tentacle to your asshole, instantly you froze…

You shoke your head once more but he ignored your pleas, that and he couldn’t hear you speak or at least attempt to without hearing you gag on the tentacle that was still in your mouth… by this point you were sure you would throw up later…

but that’s when your worst fear happened, the tentacle after sliming up your asshole entrance forced its way inside, growing just at how tight it was, you would have screamed if you could, you would have ran away or fought back but you couldn’t…

Tentacle: “so tight, be ready to receive all my sperm kiddo, be ready to birth all my children…”

Your eyes once more with even more terror widened, you were a god damn hunter you weren’t scared of anything… but he was thrusting in and out of you pretty well, your body held down, frozen almost from the initial shock, your mind not registering anything, your eyes shut for opening them would make this all too real…

Back in the impala, dean was just entering your neighbourhood, Cas was using his powers to find out exactly where you were…

Cas: “dean make a left and its just half a block down, its just before the park on the right… the lights should still be on but there is something strange…”

Cas listens for a moment before opening his eyes and turning to dean…

Cas: “drive faster he is raping her, he has taken her virginity…”

This made Dean panic, this made him mad… he drove and in seconds he was at your place, he placed the car in park and took out his gun, but made sure that he had a few extra things still with which he could either wrap you in or give you to wear… at this point modesty was out the window, you were his god damn twin, you are the piece he could never figure out was missing, why his family seemed so small…

Dean: “Cas stay outside and watch for any sign of intrusion by magic or other wise…”

Cas: “no dean im coming with you there is a key to unlocking your abilities as twins and it needs angelic presence to be able to activate…”

Dean: “I thought me and Y/N had to be in the same room..”

Cas: “no it’s a bit more complex… Michael was the one who approached your parents with this, when he came to your mom and Dad after the 2 of you were born he explained that you guys were powerful, being blessed by angels will do that to you, because your parents were blessed by angels when they conceived you guys, you came out with special abilities, ones that Michael said when the time was right should be unlocked but only by angelic powers could it be… ultimately I have to come with you, plus I can blast this thing into high heaven or into the deepest darkest farthest regions of space…”

Dean cocked his gun as he turned to Cas and sighed getting out of the car he could only see the shadows of the monster… he could only imagine how bad this was gonna be, but he knew one thing forsure was that tonight you were coming home and the thing raping you was getting ganked…

The tentacle in your mouth released an even bigger load, which was so big that it pulled out of your mouth in time for you to scream… this caught the ear of your brother, who little to your knowledge was outside, cum and slime now everywhere, you were screaming and gagging spitting every single drop out…

Tentacle: “what does the little girl not like cum, not like having things…”

That’s when the monster lifted you upright off the ground now holding you in the air the tentacle in your vagina and the one in your ass moved faster and faster growing bigger everytime… but that’s when you screamed was the feeling of warmth, the feeling of being stretched so wide that it felt as though you would tear in 2…

Tentacle: “get ready baby im cumming….”

That’s when he shot huge loads of cum in your ass and vagina… you now screamed but soon felt very very weak… you were so out of breath that you didn’t even notice that the door was bust down…

Dean: “hey monster put my sister down… NOW!!!”

Tentacle: “this is a first… no one has ever tried to stop me before, but im afraid your too late, I just impanted my seed inside this girl, what did you call her again, ah yes your sister… now if you don’t mind id like to continue torturing her and then terrorize the neighbourhood…”

Dean: “you wont get the chance fugly… Cas do your thing im gonna see if I can get Y/N released…”

Cas holds his hand towards the monster, who is completely oblivious to what Cas was about to do, but this distracted him long enough for Dean to find one of your katana’s and slice off the tentacles that were either inside you or holding you… to which he then removed what was still attached to you…

Dean: “Cas toss me your trench coat… you can buy another just do it…”

Cas didn’t argue he knew how important this rescue was so he tossed Dean his trench coat before taking the monster and sending him through the roof of the house not breaking anything and blasting the monster into the deepest farthest regions of outerspace where he could harm no one else…

Your form quivering under Dean’s touch, your eyes opening to see your brother holding you, wrapping your naked form in a coat…

Y/N: “Dean…”

Dean: “shh its ok sis, the monster is gone we made sure he will never be able to do any harm to any one else… Cas can you scan her and make sure his plan didn’t work…”

Can touches your forehead and glows for a few seconds but when he pulls back he smiles…

Cas: “she isn’t pregnant but she is tired and sore, so if we are gonna get her out of here we need to do it ASAP…”

Dean: “Y/N im gonna carry you to the car ok… don’t worry im gonna take care of you…”

Before picking you into his arms he gave Cas his keys…

Dean: “cas you drive, there is no way that ill be able to focus on the road right now…”

Cas nods taking the keys he watches Dean take you into his arms bridal style (im sorry it’s the only way possible in this situation) he helps Dean sit in the car while still cradling you in his grasp… you start feeing warm-ish, but before Cas starts driving he witnesses you and Dean starting to glow…

Cas: “its begun…”

~that’s all for now folks…~

[beepbeep-losers]

FOR THE WRITING PROMPT THING DO NUMBER Y FOR RICHIE AND EDDIE I AM SO SORRY IN ADVANCE

I’M ASSUMING YOU MEAN #6 WHICH IS “DON’T DIE ON ME” YOUCRUEL, CRUEL HUMAN but it’s okay I love writing angst. This is SO LONG I apologize. It’s a solid 1.4k. I got carried away and wrote an entire one-shot. Also they’re ~17yo.

***

Richie and Eddie were never affectionate in public. Theylived in Derry, for Christ’s sake. Eddie was okay with it. He’d accepted thatthey wouldn’t be able to come out until they left and went to college. Theyonly had a year and a half to go in this hell hole, then they could bethemselves.

Richie was less okay with it. All he wanted to do was leanover and kiss Eddie on the cheek when they were in public, and everybody elsecould go fuck themselves. But he controlled himself, for Eddie. Usually.

They had gone to see a movie with Mike (who never mindedbeing a third wheel). They were outside the theater, now almost entirelyemptied, waiting on Mike, who was flirting with one of the girls who worked atthe theater. It was chilly for March, and Richie noticed that Eddie wasshivering. He put his arm around the smaller boy and pulled him to his side.

“Rich-“

“C’mon, Eds, just for a second,” Richie shushed, and hekissed Eddie on the forehead.

Eddie frowned up at him and opened his mouth to speak, butwas cut off.

“Lookey here, boys,” a familiar voice sneered. “Our favoritehomos have come outta the closet.”

Richie and Eddie froze, Richie still looking at Eddie’s faceand feeling his heart stop when he saw the fear in his boyfriend’s eyes. Slowly,they broke their gaze and turned their heads to see the Bowers gang. Bowers,who had spoken, had a cigarette dangling between his teeth and the smokeclouded around his face.

“Maybe we should put them back in their place,” Hocksetterhissed. “Remind them what the good people of Derry think of fags.”

“How about you go fuck a duck instead, asshole?” Richiesnapped, stepping forward so that he was in front of Eddie. Eddie grabbed athis sleeve, trying to tug him back.

In a second, Richie was pushed against the wall of thetheater, Patrick’s hand fisted into the collar of his shirt. Richie scrambledto grab hold of the older boy’s arm, trying to rip it off him. “The fuck didyou say to me, gay boy?”

“I said to go fuck a duck you –“

Patrick slammed him further against the wall, his handmoving up to circle his neck. Richie gagged, his eyes wide behind crooked glasses.

“Leave him alone – please – c’mon guys,” Eddie pleaded,trying to squirm toward Richie from where Belch held him back.

“Shut up, Eddie,” Richie said quickly, wanting to get theattention back onto himself.

The opposite happened. Patrick gave Richie a long glare,then turned back to Bowers, Belch, and Criss.

“Hey, the little one will be easier. Less fucking annoying,too. Get him instead.”

Not arguing, Belch immediately released Eddie, only to punchhim hard in the stomach. The breath knocked out of him, Eddie fell to his kneesand gasped for breath.

“Eds!” Richie yelled, choked. Patrick still had one hand onhis throat and the other on his shoulder, holding him back. “Leave him alone,you fuckers. Leave him the fuck alone!”

But he couldn’t do anything. Hocksetter held him still, andwhen he started to fight too much, the older boy let go of his neck and drughim off the wall, forcing his arms behind his back. He held him like that, andmade him watch while Bowers and Belch beat up Eddie and Criss kept watch.

They’d thrown a few punches and kicks at him, taking turnsholding him still, as Eddie tried his damnedest to struggle against them,clawing at their arms and kicking at their legs. He was wheezing, and Richieknew he needed his inhaler. Richie could feel hot tears against his cheeks andknew he was crying.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I hope you all fucking burnin hell,” he chanted through clenched teeth. “You deserve to rot you bastards,you fucking-“

“Shut up!” Bowers snapped, looking up to glare at him. Whenhe turned his attention back to Eddie, he grabbed one of the small boy’s armsand pinned it down. He took the still-lit cigarette out of his mouth. “Gonnagive the little guy something to warm him up. Cold outside, right, guys?”

Eddie wheezed loudly, his eyes flicking from the cigaretteto Richie, who was staring in abject horror.

Bowers lowered the cigarette to Eddie’s arm and Richiestruggled with renewed energy against Hocksetter, a new string of obscenitiesflowing from his mouth. He heard Eddie scream and paused for a second to seehis boyfriend in tears, writhing beneath the bullies holding him, and acigarette burning into the skin of his forearm where they’d pulled up hissleeve.

Richie twisted against Patrick and finally squirmed himselffree, landing a luckily placed kick to the boy’s groin that distracted him. Helunged at Bowers, knocking him off Eddie, and started throwing punches.

It was a valiant effort. There’s no denying that. Richie was,if anything, protective. Richie was also lanky and about half the size of HenryBowers, and about a third the size of Belch.

Belch dragged Richie off Bowers, allowing Eddie to scrambleaway and make a break for the theater (only to be grabbed by Criss). By thetime Belch had Richie, Bowers and Patrick were both fuming and on their feet. That’swhen the real trouble for Richie began.

He felt his nose break and his lip bust. He was pretty surehis ribs would crack from Patrick’s boot. Maybe they already had. He couldfaintly hear Eddie screaming – sometimes for Richie and sometimes for Mike,desperate to be heard so that their friend could come to their rescue. He washolding his arms up to protect his head because they kept hitting his head andhe was sure that wasn’t good. He suddenly felt the ground, felt his skull smackthe concrete, heard the Bowers gang yelling, heard Eddie sobbing.

When had he closed his eyes?

He opened them and tried to make them see properly. There werethree Eddies and three Mikes above him. He tried to talk, tried to say that itmust be his lucky day to have three Eddies to pick on, but when he tried hejust gagged and spit up blood.

“We’ve got to take him to the hospital, Eddie, go open thedoor to the car.”

Was that Mike that spoke? How unfair that Mike could talk toEddie and not Richie. Eddie was his, after all. He tried to point it out andspat up more blood. Eddie had left. He didn’t want Eddie to go, he needed Eddieback. He whimpered.

“Ssh, buddy, you’ll be okay, we got you,” Mike whispered,leaning toward him. Was Mike going to kiss him? That was weird. Oh no, he waspicking him up. Oh, God, his head felt like it was going to roll off of hisbody. Maybe it would hurt less if it did. He was moving, he thought. He couldhear Mike talking to himself under his breath. “This is so fucking bad, this isso bad, holy shit, this is so bad, I’m going to kill those fuckers.”

The next thing Richie knew, he was laying across the backseatof Mike’s truck. His head was in Eddie’s lap. He could feel tears falling ontohis face. He tried to lift his arm up to wipe Eddie’s eyes, but his arm wouldn’tmove and he just groaned pathetically.

“Ssh, baby,” Eddie said between sobs. “We’re taking you tothe hospital, it’ll be okay.”

Richie forced a smile onto his face, even though his bustedlip screamed in protest. “Eds,” he croaked, through the blood in his mouth.

Eddie sobbed again and leaned down to touch his forehead toRichie’s.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Richie Tozier. So fucking stupid,”he whispered. “Always have to be a fucking hero. God, you’re such an idiot. Don’tyou die on me, Richie, just because you had to be fucking chivalrous.”

“Hey!” Mike yelled from the driver’s seat. “He isn’t goingto die.”

The next time Richie could speak was when they were rollinghim toward a room, Eddie walking quickly beside the stretcher. “Eds,” hegroaned. Eddie looked down at him with a panicked look. “If I die, I need youto do something.”

Eddie grasped Richie’s hand, biting his lip. He nodded. “Anything.”

“Tell your mom I’m sorry she’s –“ he coughed as he tried tolaugh “- losing her man.”

[gunshyrpgggggggggggg]

Congratulations MERLYN! You’ve been accepted as Siobhan Byrne.  Below the cut is a sample application for you to view and use to your advantage. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me. 

          OOC INFORMATION -

NAME: Merlyn, she/her

AGE: Twenty-Two

TIMEZONE: Eastern Time.

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m a full time University student in my fourth year! I’ll be fairly busy with that, but since most of my classes are online, I have quite a bit of free time that I can dedicate to the game. 

ANYTHING ELSE? Not that I can think of!

          IC INFORMATION -

DESIRED ROLE: Siobhan Byrne.

WHO ARE THEY TO YOU? 

Siobhan is still growing. She has a vision of who she wants to be and just needs to find a way to get there. She’s kind and wants the best for those around her. She’s not blind to what her family does, and while she doesn’t agree or want any part of it, she understands that hating her family for doing things she sees as wrong will only hurt her in the long run. 

Since her brother’s death, Siobhan has been changing. Slowly but surely, she’s becoming a different person and the next few months of her life will shape who she will be in the future. She’s started drinking, sometimes so much she can’t remember the night before. She tries to hide it from her family and friends, but deep down, she knows they notice something is off. Though, Siobhan is good at pretending. “I’m okay,” will leave her lips, with a small somber smile. “It’s just hard getting over Cillian.” That typically ends the conversation. “She’s grieving,” they say. “People do it in their own ways.” She hasn’t touched drugs. Not yet, at least.

The two things that keep Siobhan going is hope for a better future and Henry. Columbia kept her occupied. She made beautiful art in her small apartment while listening to Lila’s music. She studied the great artists that came before her, from Ancient Greece to the Renaissance to modern minimalists and everything that came in between. Her econ homework was stressful and complex, her lowest grades she received, but she knew it would help with her end goal. Her dream has always been to run her own Art Gallery. She would have a small cafe where local musicians could play their music while patrons browsed beautiful works, sometimes maybe even her own. 

Her family’s business made the world an ugly place. She wanted to make it a bit more beautiful. No matter how small her impact may be. Though, with the looming darkness that surrounds her, she’s not sure she’s capable of achieving her dream anymore. But, that certainly hasn’t stopped her from trying.

CONNECTIONS: 

DANTE VASCO - Crush Siobhan has had a crush on Dante since she met him. Young and oblivious, she just saw a pretty face and large biceps. She remembered giggling obnoxiously at every stupid thing that left his mouth, hopelessly infatuated with the man. He was older and dangerous. The brother of her future sister-in-law. Dante was everything Siobhan would _never _have. Since her brother’s murder, she likes to pretend that Dante doesn’t have the same effect on her; he’s a Vasco. The enemy. But, Siobhan knows if she ever bumps into him, she’ll revert back to the same little girl she was when they first met. 

DARCY BYRNE - Father Siobhan is a daddy’s girl. Or, she always tried to be. While she was growing up, Siobhan knew she didn’t fit the Byrne dynamic. Her brothers and father would always have inside jokes that she was never a part of and go to sporting events and movies she wasn’t old enough to see without her. Cillian always tried to mend the gap between them, but her father, in her eyes, never seemed to catch on. She always wanted to be “one of the guys” but she just didn’t have the personality for it. Of course, she knew that he loved her and supported everything she did, she just didn’t have the relationship with him that she wanted. She wasn’t a son. She was the only daughter that he had to keep safe. Sheltered. They were never buddies; they were just father and daughter.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: 

Siobhan is a Chaotic Good Alignment. While at first I thought she would be Neutral Good, I believe Chaotic Good is the better fit; Siobhan believes that every law has their biases. She has her own moral code, but is undoubtedly good. 

EXTRAS: all my graphic content for Siobhan can be found here. Below, you will find my written content for her.

FUTURE PLANS:

I really want to explore Siobhan delving deeper into her own twisted spiral. Whether this means going into the business to feel a bit closer to Cillian, or finding herself lost in her own mind, numbed by drugs and alcohol.

Alternatively, I think Siobhan would start to distance herself from her family. The business got her brother killed, why wouldn’t her other siblings, parents, or even her nephew, be at risk, too? Siobhan can’t handle that kind of heartbreak again. Maybe leaving her family behind is the best way to save herself.

I also want to develop Siobhan’s relationships with other people. Now that she doesn’t have Cillian, there is a gap in her life. She has Lila, her closest (or only) true friend and roommate, as well as Henry, the little boy she adores, but there will always be something missing. I think she’ll try to fill this hole with one of two things: romance or family. She’ll either find someone who will hold her while she cries and kiss her tears away or find a way to connect with her brothers or parents. Maybe even both. Though, her family has always been exhausting for Siobhan, the true introvert in a family of extroverts.

WRITING SAMPLE: 

1:03 AM

The glow of Siobhan’s bedside clock stung her groggy eyes. 

Lila was out at another music party. “It’s a fundraiser,” she said, taking her third shot of the night as she put on her coat. “This band is raising money for studio time. I think,” she shrugged heading out the door. “Any excuse to drink, is good enough for me.”

Siobhan laughed at her roommate before returning to her somber state. Now, hours later, without being able to sleep, with no inspiration to sketch or paint, Siobhan wished she went with her overzealous roommate to the unknown apartment filled with all the people she didn’t know and who didn’t know her. At least then, Siobhan would be doing something other than melt away into her sheets, slowly turning into nothing.

Exactly eight minutes later, when the red numbers made a clean 1:11 AM, Siobhan tore off her sheets and went to her closet, finding the bottle of 19 year old scotch Cillian bought for her as a joke on her nineteenth birthday. She didn’t plan on drinking it so soon, but after his death, she’s consumed half of the bottle. 

Siobhan took her scotch and brought it to the kitchen. She filled a small tumbler and took a sip, letting the liquid burn her tongue and her throat as it went down. She gagged. The amber drink swirled in her glass after she put it down. If there was one thing she was taught growing up, not through lectures, but through simple observation, it was to always pace yourself when drinking. But, lately, Siobhan has let most of her ideologies go. So, she picked up her glass and drank every last drop.

Her face felt hot and her body tensed, but she filled her glass again and shot it down as cleanly as Lila did hers. Though, Siobhan coughed much more than what she would consider normal or acceptable. 

She looked at the bottle and started to feel tears drip onto her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, sick of crying alone in the dark. She started to feel lightheaded, not quite dizzy, but her body didn’t feel her own. That was how she knew the drinks were working.

Another glass later, Siobhan was on the floor, a large piece of canvas on the ground and a paintbrush in her hand. 

Black. Siobhan needed black. She mixed it with her blues and reds, used it on its own and even mixed it with white to get a desolate grey. She wasn’t painting to make a picture. She didn’t have the energy for that. No, Siobhan was painting what she felt. Hard lines and splatter, mixed with finger painting and tears made for a messy product. 

By the time Lila came home, Siobhan was sleeping on the couch, covered in colours while her work and bottle of scotch sat next to her on the floor.

Lila didn’t mention it the next morning.

Siobhan was truly grateful.