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eagles-translated · 3 years

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Answering Eagles questions before the season 3 finale (Part 2/2)

I've received a bunch of questions since 3x08 and 3x09 dropped, so I compiled all the questions into two posts. I had to split them up because Tumblr only allows 10 images per post. Anyway, keep reading to see my answers and enjoy! 👇

There might be some kind of collaboration between Amie and Ludde like last season—we have only heard snippets of Ludde's song submission to the music school and it wouldn't surprise me if we saw Amie perform the song in its entirety in the last episode. I touched on this a little in part 1 of answering these questions.

It seems like Amie singing at the end of the season has become kind of a recurring theme. She performed “Follow” in 1x08 and “Second Sight” in 2x10 (on the radio, but my point still stands). I wouldn’t be surprised if they followed this trend by having Amie perform a new song in the season 3 finale.

I'm not sure if she'll recommend Ludde to the record label, though. I honestly still feel like Amie's whole storyline with sending in a rather basic demo written by two teenagers with little to no experience and then getting praised on it with comments such as "it's going to be a real summer hit" felt so unrealistic to me. Maybe they only said that so Amie would accept their offer or something, but that's still very strange because she would have still said yes without a doubt.

I can understand that they thought Amie was marketable as a person and there was this bonus with her having gone viral before on Felicia's Instagram, but that demo did not seem good enough for me to be immediately released as a single and then have them decide on the spot that Amie would be given a contract.

I mean, come on. It never felt earned because we never really saw Amie struggling with her songwriting journey to achieve this dream. Sending in one demo to one record label and having them immediately want to make a whole album with you just doesn't happen in real life unless the song is extremely good or you have a very unique voice. Amie is really talented but there are hundreds of people just like her, if not thousands. I was never convinced by her getting signed so quickly in season 2.

I understand that they wanted to establish her as a successful artist, but that felt so rushed. I was so sure that the record label would screw her over and steal the song rights to record it with another artist who was already established, and that we'd have to see Amie work even harder to achieve her dreams. But we didn't get that at all. Where was the struggle?

Anyway, I'm getting a little off-topic here. To be honest I have a lot of problems with the writing sometimes, even if I still love the show and its characters. Of course I wanted to see Amie achieve success (and I was happy when she did), but the journey there was so bizarrely easy.

She didn't start to seriously work on making her music career become a reality until season 2. Amie had dabbled in music prior to that, like when she auditioned for the school band and did that performance of Follow, but she didn't truly start to work towards it until season 2 when she decided to have her work sent to professionals in the business. And then, just five episodes later, she gets contacted by the record label in Stockholm.

To put this into context—season 2 took place somewhere around March, and episode 5 around three weeks into April. So when Ludde first started helping Amie it took less than two months for her to get signed. You could argue that the song was just that good or that Amie is just that talented, but it never felt like a realistic storyline to me.

So, back to your question! I need to stop getting so sidetracked while answering these haha. I don't think it would be realistic for the record label to hire a teenager with no professional songwriting experience, likely a very small portfolio of his own work in both size and variety, having a criminal record, and on top of that being infamous in the press for abusing his ex-girlfriend. If Amie offered the ultimatum to her label that she'll only return with Ludde, who has an incredibly bad reputation right now, it feels like she would be running the risk of losing the contract entirely.

There's only so much her label can put up with. We've seen Amie ignore their calls with no intention of reassuring them that she's coming back soon. Honestly, with the way things are looking right now it makes the most sense for the contract to be dropped. By Amie or by the label, I don't know.

The episode description for the season finale says that Ludde will get some sort of justice and it could be about his music (or something related to whatever Andreas is doing).

I believe Amie will be doing a live performance of Ludde's song at a New Year's Eve party in episode 10 but I doubt that Ludde will be picked up as a producer. If he actually does I would find that to be a very unrealistic plot point, to be completely honest with you.

This is an issue I had with 3x08 and 3x09 as well. I had a hard time actually enjoying the moment between Felicia, Klara, and Amie knowing that her family was getting increasingly worried for her and even thought for a short moment that Felicia was lying dead at the bottom of the ocean. All that could've been avoided.

To add, it didn't make a lot of sense to me that when Klara finally decided to call someone she called Amie instead of Elias. An ex-friend of Felicia's instead of her brother who could've helped a lot more. What was Amie supposed to do when she showed up at the hotel, exactly?

I know there was the thing with Klara only knowing Amie's number off the top of her head, but there is no reason why she couldn't have gone down to the reception while Felicia was sleeping and asked to use a computer just to get a quick message to Elias. Like, "hey, Felicia attempted something bad but she's safe with me, we're at this hotel in this room but she didn't want me to call anybody, I don't know what to do". That would've been so much better than keeping quiet about the situation for nearly 24 hours.

I know that Klara probably has trauma from leaving her dad at the hospital after his suicide attempt and that she probably didn't want to go against Felicia's wishes. I understand the first part 100%. But Felicia was in a very bad place emotionally and was thinking that her whole family hated her when that wasn't the case. I feel like in a situation like that you kind of have to be the bad guy just to ensure the family that Felicia was safe. Even if everything turned out alright in the end, it could've gone so much worse if Felicia had wanted to be kept hidden for longer.

The ending of 3x08 was super tough to watch and I can't imagine the feeling of thinking your only daughter/sister drowned herself after you just yelled at her and showed no support. Klara couldn't have known any of this, but I feel like she should've at least contacted Elias if she wasn't taking Felicia to a hospital.

Elias calling Amie would've been an easy solution to this whole debacle but we would've lost the drama. It's still somewhat of a plot hole though, like you said.

Thank you for reading that whole post @detectivejulesohara!

The clip you're referring to was posted on Yandeh Sallah's Instagram account, so not in a trailer for this season.

I think that was either just fanservice or it will appear in season 4 since it was posted in May of this year, and I believe the filming of season 3 had already wrapped by then.

It might indicate that Elias and Amie will be a couple by season 4 (this actually seems very likely regardless if this is actually part of a scene or not).

I think Elias is getting increasingly frustrated with hockey and the fact that he doesn't really have any other ambitions to strive for. He was raised with nothing but hockey surrounding him and it's in his blood. Elias got drafted to the US at around the same age as Mats, but Elias left after a year because he just wasn't progressing.

That must feel like a huge step back, and on top of that Mats was probably thriving in his successful career around the age that Elias is now. It's a tough difference in success to have weighing on your shoulders when you're in a team that's second to last in the rankings.

There's even the accusation in the press that Mats paid for Elias to advance in the rankings, and I'm sure that's going to affect his career negatively.

I think Elias overworking himself could also be the result of him feeling like he has to prove that returning to Eagles—a small club that is probably having their worst season ever—was in fact the right choice and not the death of his elite hockey career. That choice was very questionable from the very start and his agent advised against it. Even Mats found it strange. Elias said that he didn't really have a choice most likely because of the clause in his contract, but then he also claims to Mats that things just turned out that way.

Ludde: You don’t regret coming back [to Eagles]? Elias: I didn’t really have a choice.

The idea that he didn't have a choice in the matter doesn't seem accurate. His agent told him there were other alternatives like Jokerit (a professional ice hockey team based in Helsinki, Finland) and that they could find something better than Eagles. Elias seemed kind of defeated already and the decision to return to Eagles didn't feel thought-through at all. It's almost like he just didn't care.

Agent: [...] Jokerit has called and I’ve had a great conversation with them, so they’re on. Elias: You know what? Let’s skip all the trouble. Let’s go with Eagles, it’ll be great. Agent: What? Elias: I’m so tired of moving all the time anyway, plus I’ll be close to my family. Agent: Wait, I thought that you— Eagles has big economical problems, and… Sorry, but their season started awfully. We can get a better team. You understand, right? Elias: Yeah, but we can’t get a team that needs me as much. Plus— If they say they want to see development, I’ll give them that. Agent: Wait— They’re under the line. We’re talking about qualifying down directly. You can’t in earnest believe you’ll change that on your own. Elias: It’s perfect. I’ll only go up, as you like to say.

It also seems like he's maybe realizing that hockey isn't everything and that there are other things he might want to explore and pursue in his life. I think Elias is feeling kind of stuck right now. He's been training his whole life for one purpose which is a professional career in hockey, and maybe he feels like Mats wouldn't allow him to quit. That option doesn't exist to him.

Like you said, Mats had that comment where he labeled Ludde a "quitter" and Elias stressed the fact that there shouldn't be anything wrong with losing interest and deciding to pursue something else.

Mats: Can you imagine that he’s just quitting? I mean, I’m completely— He really didn’t strike me as a quitter. So fucking close. [...] Elias: [...] Ludde, he’s… He’s not a quitter, he’s just didn’t want it anymore. That should be fair.

However, quitting is seen as failure to Mats. Mats dropped everything when he got drafted. He left his relationship with Petra seemingly without a second thought, because hockey comes before everything for Mats. Felicia even mentioned back in season 1 how her father was just a voice in a telephone for most of her childhood. He barely had any presence in her life because he was busy with hockey.

When Klara tells Elias that he's always putting hockey first, he gets angry but he doesn't outright deny it. In fact, he kind of changes the subject to shift attention away from Klara's claim.

Klara: This— You haven’t changed at all. You’re always putting yourself first. Elias: Excuse me? Klara: Yes, it’s either you or hockey. Elias: Stop! What the— Klara: I can’t take this. Elias: Are you leaving now? I wasn’t the only one you dumped. You’ve been acting like shit to Felicia. Yeah, and Amie and Ludde too, for that matter. You haven’t thought about that? So don’t come here and say I’m the egoist.

This is kind of an interesting thought—that maybe Elias subconsciously knew that was Klara is saying is true to some degree and that he has been putting hockey first. He decided to get on the train to the draft combine in Seattle instead of staying with Klara, and a year later he realizes that things didn't turn out the way that he'd planned and he returns to Eagles.

Maybe Elias is trying so hard to be someone who he just isn't, and it's affecting so many aspects of his life negatively. He lost Klara, he had to repeat almost his whole last year in high school because of moving to the US, and now he seems to be stuck in Oskarshamn. He's previously expressed to Amie that this isn't necessarily where he wanted to end up.

Elias: [...] Hey, is it just me or is there something about this town that… It sort of feels like no matter how much you try to get away, it… It pulls you back somehow.

It's kind of strange that he doesn't want to be in Oskarshamn, and yet he was the one who chose to return. Maybe he somehow feels like he has some purpose there because it keeps pulling him back. He just doesn't know what that purpose is.

Elias tried coming back to Eagles to turn things around for them, and they did win a game against the Capitals but that victory was later tarnished by the fight that broke out between the two teams (and to add to this, the loss of Ludde who used to be one of the star players and Klara as a sponsor). That kind of overshadowed their whole victory. Elias was very determined to do something to help and it very much feels like he needs Eagles to succeed—he needs to sort of "redeem" himself.

Elias: [...] Can I do anything? Can I go talk to— I could go talk to the sponsor. Mats: Let’s deal with it later. I’ll solve this. You have to go to school now. Elias: But we can finish talking— Mats: You can— No. Try to think of something else. Alright?

I think that Elias's desperation for Eagles to do well could absolutely lead to him eventually deciding to be a coach. He doesn't really seem to want the life that Mats had after seeing how success turned out for him—a broken family that he barely cares about because hockey occupies his mind more than caring for his children or repairing the relationship with Leila.

I think Elias being a hockey coach could suit him, but I would also love to see him exploring things outside of hockey—maybe even his interests outside of sport entirely.

I kind of agree with you on this. Klara has apologized to Felicia and been forgiven, but we've never seen her properly apologize to Amie for filming that video of her and posting it on social media. Amie and Ludde were in the wrong, yes, but that video being posted was humiliating for both of them. They had to deal with the ramifications of that for months after with the whole school judging them in silence.

To be fair, the video was posted a long time ago in the show's time frame (nearly two years ago if I'm right?) and they all kind of moved on from it. To add to this, maybe she felt it would've been kind of awkward to apologize with Felicia in the room.

Felicia was so hurt by that video being posted and I think it would feel very weird for her that Klara would apologize for posting the video when it's the sole reason Felicia found out what had been done to her. Without that video, she would've probably gone a few more months without being told what happened at the Halloween party.

I'm waiting for a Klara and Amie reconciliation in this season finale. I feel like this is something that should be discussed between just the two of them, and maybe they'll sneak in some blessing from Klara with the whole budding Elias and Amie relationship? I'd be happy with just a reconciliation, though, but I'm unsure if we'll get one. I have a feeling they'll start the season finale with a time jump and I don't know if Klara is even going to be in Oskarshamn by that time.

If we don't see them reconnecting in the season finale I will be pretty disappointed, to be honest.

Thank you! I really appreciate you too @lunawedlers (your gifsets are absolutely magical)!

This question was sent in a while ago but as season 3 had just started airing I was very excited to see the development of Elias and Amie, mostly because the director had been hinting on Twitter that something would happen between them this season. I've been really interested in them ever since 1x03 and so far the wait has been worth it.

I think all episodes have great visuals, but if I had to pick one I would probably say 3x06. All those shots of Elias and Amie on the walk through the park, the drone shots, and then the view from that bench spot were so gorgeous visually. That answer is more of a scene rather than a whole episode haha, but I think they really made the beauty of Oskarshamn stand out in those shots.

I think Amie will have some sort of performance in the final episode of a new song and that Elias will be watching her! After reading the episode description for the final episode and seeing that there will probably be some New Year's Eve party going on, I have a feeling that Amie will be performing. She's always had a performance of a new song in every season finale and this one should be no exception.

They tricked us a little in the season 3 trailer with us thinking that Elias would be at one of Amie's concerts in Stockholm, but now I'm sure that this scene fits in at the New Year's Eve party.

I think we should keep our expectations low for a kiss between Elias and Amie. They just started developing their relationship, and I like the slow pace they're going in. They're not rushing anything. I also have this feeling that their development has deliberately been so slow because they're sort of "saving the best for last".

Elias and Amie are fan favorites and their relationship has been very talked-about from the beginning. I can see the writers maybe having decided to push their relationship more towards the end of the show, which is why we haven't really gotten any Elias and Amie content until now. That's frustrating if you're impatient and I've seen some people thinking that maybe Elias and Amie won't happen at all, but I don't think we need to worry at all. The fact that Elias and Amie's development has been so slow should indicate that they're much more likely to be endgame.

A kiss in episode 10 could definitely happen, but I don't know. Maybe they'll drag it out further. As I've said before, if they don't get one in season 3 they will absolutely be getting one in season 4. I've noticed that it's always best to keep your expectations low when it comes to this couple.

The episode description for the season finale said this about Elias, which some have interpreted to be about Amie.

New Year’s Eve is here. [...] But is Elias brave enough to say what everyone else already knows?

This could mean anything, really. I'm actually leaning more towards this being about an individual thing rather than Amie being involved. It could be about Elias admitting that he's been overworking himself and not eating properly, or coming clean about the fact that maybe he doesn't want a career in hockey. This is something that everyone else already knows, so I think it might be about hockey.

Felicia has observed the overworking, Mats has told him to stop with it, and Ludde might've had some inkling about it while he was still on the team. Even Amie has probably also noticed that he's been spending a lot of time at the gym lately.

I could absolutely be wrong about this though.

Thank you for the question @lunawedlers!

This is a hard one because season 3 has had so many strong episodes already, and usually my favorite episode ends up being the season finale because it's basically the culmination of the whole season. I really loved 2x10 for this very reason since the ending montage was so well done.

If I had to pick between 3x01 - 3x09 though I would probably have to say it's a tie between 3x04 — Date night and 3x05 — Wounds! These two episodes showcased what Eagles should be all about so well, which is relationships plus the struggles you go through as a teenager in a small town, and then of course hockey. The hockey game episodes are really good, even if I don't think 3x05 topped 2x05 (the game where Ludde got tackled and knocked out).

I loved the contrast in Date night of the budding relationship between Elias and Amie and then that fight between Felicia and Ludde on the cliff. That whole scene between Felicia and Ludde on the cliff was actually really beautiful, especially when the sun had gone down.

It was interesting to see how this sweet gesture from Felicia turned into a fight between the two of them. I thought that was very realistic, because no matter how big of a gesture Felicia made to apologize there were still underlying problems that they needed to talk about.

I also loved the "non-date" between Elias and Amie in this episode. It was cute to see them goofing off before the movie started and then talking about it on the way home. I liked how Elias could connect to her on how they had both returned to Oskarshamn.

The recent episodes that dropped last week (3x08 and 3x09) were very strong and discussed some important subject matters, but I had a few problems with them that I discussed in a question above. They were dark, but not necessarily bad because they needed to happen.

However, I have to say that I prefer Eagles when it's about hockey and teenage relationships. 3x04 and 3x05 made me kind of nostalgic for season 1 and I liked the vibe they both had.

I agree, but I think we could maybe get a combination of both! Relationships can have all these romantic and sweet traits like you described, but also be more passionate and show public displays of affection.

I think Elias and Amie fit the more laid-back and sweet characteristics, but we have yet to really see what Amie is like in a relationship. We've seen her with a crush on Ludde and we got a glimpse of that thing she had with Robin (which was apparently a relationship but I did not pick up on that at all), but we don't really know what Amie is like in a relationship. Maybe she's never really had a "real" one, either.

Nevertheless, I'm excited to see what's in store for Elias and Amie. I'm very positive that they will eventually become a couple in season 4.

#eagles svt #svt eagles #after writing this i kind of want to do a separate post discussing the writing in eagles because i have a lot more to say about it

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krreader · 4 years

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tears of gold.

pairing: min yoongi x reader fandom: bts warnings: language ; no happy ending genre: angst word count: 1.9k+

summary: one moment. one decision. that’s all it took to ruin his future. yoongi always thought that if that ever happened it would have something to do with his career.. but no.. his career was fine. the rest of his life was what was broken now.

a/n: idk man, every time it’s a vague angst request like this I go off. not sure if that’s good or bad lol. anyways, I really hope you like it bb. (+ title inspired by this beauty)

Despite him sitting right next to you on the bed, you've never felt more alone in your life than right now.

Despite him having told you that he loved you just last night, you've never felt more unloved than right now.

Despite him wanting you to trust him completely, you've never felt more backstabbed by him than right now.

“You have to understand me, (Y/N),” is what he said, like that's what would make any of this any better, “How am I supposed to do this right now? Or.. anytime soon? I'm going on tour in less than a month and won't be back for a while and then when I'm finally back, I'll maybe have a break for a week or two before going back to work. How do you.. expect me to..-” Yoongi let out a frustrated sigh and put his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

You haven't said a word during all this, just looked at him in disbelief, disappointment, frustration.. sadness.

This wasn't how you had imagined your life to go either, this wasn't on your agenda anytime soon either, but it had happened and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Both of you.

The positive pregnancy test in your shaking hands was the proof of that.

“I'm sorry,” he finally said again and straightened his back as he shook his head, “I can't do it.”

The chances of becoming pregnant when taking the pill perfectly were so slim.. so why did it have to happen to him and you? Why did it have to happen to someone who really couldn't handle a child right now, who couldn't be a father and.. quite frankly.. didn't want to be a father right now.

But Yoongi was selfish in this moment and he didn't even realize it.

All he thought about was the child and himself.

He not once thought about you. About what this meant for you.

Because he wasn't the only one with a career.

You had worked your ass off these last years to achieve your goals and dreams and were finally at a point in life that you were happy with.. well.. everything. A stable job, a stable – or at least you thought – relationship and amazing chances of your life getting even better with the years to come.

But none of that seemed to matter to him, in that moment, he only cared about himself.

Suddenly, he got up and wanted to make his way out of your bedroom like it was easy for him to walk away from this.

However, he stopped when you finally spoke, for the first time since you told him you were expecting his baby.

“You walk out of this door, Yoongi, I'm never going to give you a second chance. You leave me alone with this child and I promise you, you will never be a father for this baby,” your hands trembled, but your voice was firm because you meant it. You were scared shitless, but you’d rather be raising this child on your own than with someone who didn’t want it in the first place.

You had hoped this little speech might change his mind.. after all, you've been with each other for almost four years now and he had more often than not told you that he wanted this to last forever.

But the idea of a child right then and there scared him so much that he just ignored your words, maybe even thought you weren’t serious, but god, you were.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated once again, looking at you from over his shoulder, “I really am,” his voice broke.

And then he left.

And all you could do was stare after the closed door before you completely broke down, allowing yourself to be vulnerable once he was gone and lying back down on your bed, clutching the pregnancy test against your chest while tears streamed down your cheek.

You were alone in this.

Completely and utterly alone.

And that scared the living shit out of you, even if you wanted and tried to be strong.

Single mother before the baby was even born.. wonderful.

Yoongi watched the rain drops run down the window of the car as they were driving to the venue, his fingertips tracing them like he was mesmerized by them, lost in his own little world in that moment

“So, hyung,” Jimin said with a huge smile, leaning forward a little to talk to the driver, “I heard your wife had her baby?”

Yoongi instantly looked up, ripped from his daydream when he heard that sentence.

“Yeah,” the driver grinned happily from ear to ear, like he was the proudest man on this planet. It hurt Yoongi. Badly, “It's a girl! Can you believe it? I have a baby girl now!”

Everyone in the car congratulated him, told him how happy they were for him..

..all but Yoongi.

He could just stare at the driver through the rear-view mirror, before looking down at his phone and opening his KakaoTalk, scrolling down until he could find your chat.

He gulped down hard as he scrolled up and up and up.. only to read his own messages again like so many days before.

“Please talk to me, (Y/N). I know I made a mistake..”

“Can you please call me? Just call me, whenever you can.”

“Can you at least tell me if you and the baby are okay? Please..”

“I regret it.. so much, (Y/N). If I could turn back time, I would. I shouldn't have left you alone, I shouldn't have abandoned you. I'm sorry..”

“You moved.. I went to your place, but your landlord said you moved. Can you please tell me your new address? I want to send you some stuff.. that's the least I can do. Money, clothes, whatever you need..”

“It’s been nine months now.. please say something, (Y/N). Tell me you’re both okay..”

None of these were ever answered or read and they were only a few of the thousand that he had sent over the course of the last year.

At this point, he knew that he was a father too.. but nobody else knew that.

He hadn't told any of his members, anyone from his company or anyone from his family.

Why?

Because he was ashamed of himself.

Ashamed of how he just left you in a moment such as this one, how he completely spit on the relationship and trust that you had built in all these years and how he just didn’t take responsibility for something that he had a part in as well.

If he told anyone, especially his parents, they’d never call him their son again.

“I hope I'll be a dad too eventually,” Namjoon said with a happy smile as he looked at Yoongi, “What about you, hyung? You never really talk about having kids..”

Yoongi quickly turned his phone around, then looked at Namjoon, only to open and close his mouth again.

What answer should he even give him?

No, he had never really thought about having kids, not before you told him that you were pregnant. Then, right after, he had thought he had done the right choice. He truly thought that he didn't want to have children. But the more time passed, the more he yearned for that life. The more he wished he had done things differently.. if so, he would now have a wife and child at home waiting for him.

Instead, he'd come home from this world tour to an empty house full of regrets.

A grim future..

“We're here.. come on boys, let's go,” the manager said once the car stopped, Yoongi being eternally grateful for the arrival, so that he didn't have to answer Namjoon's question.

Hoseok had watched the conversation quietly from the back of the car, his eyes never leaving Yoongi's back as he walked into the venue with slumped shoulders.

Everyone else was running inside because of the rain but him.

He got completely soaked, yet it seemed like he didn't even care, like he didn't even process it. Like his mind was somewhere else completely.

Hoseok didn't know why now, why today, but maybe it was the conversation with the driver that made him think about the whole thing again.

The thing that Yoongi thought nobody knew about.

“Hyung.. can we talk?” Yoongi looked up at Hoseok with furrowed brows, but then got out of the make-up chair and followed the younger member.

He led him into an empty room, a meeting room from the looks of it and then closed the door behind him once Yoongi was inside.

“Sit.”

“What is this?” Yoongi snorted, “Whatever it is you want to say, we could have just talked in front of the others.”

Nothing had happened between Hoseok and Yoongi, so he must have assumed that whatever it was that Hoseok wanted to say to him wouldn’t be serious.

When Yoongi didn't want to sit, Hoseok just leaned against the table and crossed his arms in front of his chest, lowering his head a little, “I didn't know whether or not I should tell you about this in the first place, since I figured that it was none of my business, but I see you with this look on this face more and more so.. I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

Hoseok looked out the window for a moment, then he looked into Yoongi's eyes, “I ran into (Y/N) right before we left for tour.”

Yoongi instantly froze.

Thousands of thoughts and questions shot into his mind. Why did he see you? Did he talk to you? Did you two meet up? Did he see the baby?

“Imagine how surprised I was when she stood there with a baby stroller. You never told us why you two broke up, so I just imagined that maybe you didn't want to tell us about it because you were ashamed. When I saw her with the baby I thought she cheated and ended up pregnant,” Hoseok cocked his head to the side, “But you’ve been acting weird and it all started when you two broke up. You see a child and you get all sad, you hear someone mention their child, you get lost in thought. So, hyung.. be honest,” Hoseok took a step forward, then another, getting so close that Yoongi had to lower his head because of how ashamed he became, “Fuck.. it’s your baby, isn’t it?”

Yoongi's jaw began to clench, suddenly feeling like Hoseok was putting him on the spot, like he was blaming him just like Yoongi was blaming himself.

“Yeah.. I figured. Makes sense now.. why you were so depressed again after you’ve worked so hard on overcoming it. Why you felt so bad about yourself. Why you become sad every time you see a child. Jesus, hyung..”

Hoseok didn't know what else to say to him, he was so disappointed in him that he would do this to you that he just wanted to leave right then and there. It was almost as if looking at him repulsed him.

But Yoongi had one question before he could do so.

“Is it.. a boy or a girl?” his eyes were wide when he turned around to look at Hoseok.

“A girl. It's a girl,” he said without looking at him.

But before his hand could even reach the handle, the door got opened.

“There you are,” their manager was suddenly standing in the door way, looking completely out of breath, “What the hell are you doing in here? We need to get you ready, come on!”

Yoongi didn't have a lot of time to think about it after that, make-up and hair took a while and before he knew it, he was already on stage again, performing in front of thousands like he usually did.

He was keeping it together and was actually rather doing a good job at it because his mind couldn’t focus on what it wanted to focus on.

He was caught up in the screams and cheers and for a moment it seemed like everything was fine again.

But once the concert was over and once they started waving their goodbye's to ARMY's and his eyes fell onto Hoseok, it all came flooding back.

“A girl. It's a girl,” it echoed in his ears.

Yoongi had a daughter. A beautiful baby girl that he didn’t know anything about. Was she healthy? What eye color did she have? Did she have a lot of hair? Was she eating enough? Sleeping enough?

And what about you? Were you okay? Did you manage with her on your own? Were you happy nowadays? Stressed or anxious?

Yoongi had no answer to these questions, because he abandoned both of you when he had the chance to still be with you.

And once again, he blamed himself for everything.

And then in front of hundreds of thousands, he broke down. Fully. He was on his knees, sobbing his eyes out and wishing he could turn back time.

He wished he could change how he had reacted. That he had just pulled you close when you were so scared about the baby and told you that everything would be okay and that you'd be in this together. That he’d be by your side throughout everything and that whatever obstacles you would face, you would face together.

He wished he had been there when you had gone into labor and that he could have held his newborn daughter. He wished he had been able to smile at you and tell you that he loved you and was proud of you.

But this wasn’t a Disney movie and wishes didn’t suddenly become true just because you really wanted them to.

This was reality.

And the reality was that he’d never get a second chance.

He fucked up.. and there was no going back.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bangtan boys #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #min yoongi #suga #yoongi #reader #requests

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

And finally see what it means to be living

Eliot’s life, from his teen years to the disillusionment of the military through the soulless wetwork all the way to his team, seen through his connection to the song Fast Carby Tracy Chapman.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed any

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eliot remembered being a teen, lying on the grass in the middle of the night, having snuck out with a radio with as excuse to his father that he was with a lady friend. That was if he even cared to ask, which was never the case, but just to be safe.

He remembered one night in particular, the one that made him come back out there with the radio each night, hoping they would play the song he wished to hear most as he lay under the galaxy, wishing he was far away, among the stars.

It had been a bright night with clear skies, a full moon and a million stars in the sky. He was lying on his blanket, some radio station played that he tuned out most of the time. Then the radio announcer had said: “Next up is Fast Carby Tracy Chapman, gotta warn y’all it’s one for the heart.” And somehow it had gotten his attention and he’d listened.

He’d listened, yet somehow he’d felt heard.

Right there on the radio had been someone, who was stuck in a town as well, with a shit father, who wanted nothing more than to live and get out.

While he had nobody but himself to get him out of there, the song gave him hope. He hadn’t heard the full lyrics, but enough to hit home. The radio announcer had been right when he’d said it was one for the heart.

You got a fast car And I got a plan to get us out of here I been working at the convenience store Managed to save just a little bit of money We won't have to drive too far Just 'cross the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs And finally see what it means to be living

He found himself humming the song, singing the second verse under his breath the next day, letting the feeling of the song build up in his chest and carry him through the day as plans of getting away swirled in his mind.

Even now he knew that his best out was either a sports scholarship or the military and he wasn’t a college man. He also knew that his father would never let him join, so he’d have to wait until he was eighteen before flying away.

While he might not have a fast car, he and a few of his buddies had boosted one often enough that he could find one when the time came, he just had to get there first. Just until he was eighteen, then he was out of there and far away, for now he would just work at the hardware store and save the money to get out of here.

Anxiously, he had waited until he could sneak out again after that night, tuning into the same radio station, hoping it would be played again.

They didn’t play the song the first night, nor the one after that, but the third night they did. He was sitting next to the radio, armed with a tape recorder that he smashed on the moment the announcer introduced the song.

Afterwards, he played the song so often on his Walkman that the tape wore down until he had to record it onto a new one.

The late nights under the stars, alone with his dreams, stayed. He still played the radio on the same station that had first played Fast Car, but he often found himself listening to the tape, repeating it until he had enough peace to rest.

His mind got stuck on the first part of the song after a while:

You got a fast car I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero got nothing to lose Maybe we'll make something But me myself I got nothing to prove

He repeated the words to himself, alone in his room or in the safety in his mind whenever the world got too much. Well, his dad got too much.

Then he would just grit his teeth and tell himself that he had nothing to prove and that any place would be better, he just had to go somewhere. Didn’t matter that he started at zero, just like her, he would live.

Just a year more then he’d be eighteen.

Eliot had never belonged in that small stuffy town, no matter how well he played his part. He was never that into football or the girls at the school. He went through the motions, but wasn’t built for settling down, for taking over the store and staying there forever.

For a while he thought that Aimee got that, that she got him and that they would achieve the dream together and get away from the town where everyone knew everyone and the only good thing were the horses.

She was also done with some of the people at school, though she went to church and she loved the horses and maybe he should have thought more about it when he mentioned leaving and she stayed quiet, but he wanted to get out so bad that he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to stay.

So, slowly he started to picture them, in a car – maybe even one he’d bought – driving on the highway, the town disappearing the rear view mirror as they went off to see what it meant to be living.

It was a dream that got crushed.

Aimee wanted him to stay, tried to talk of the horses and what they could built and he’d just listened dumbly and nodded.

Faintly he heard himself making her a promise about coming back then and giving her the ring he’d bought for her birthday, hoping to make it real in a church that was not run by the same Father he’d been forced to confess his sins to since he was a boy.

And he wondered how he had ended up there when he had always told her about his dream of being far away.

But then again, maybe he hadn’t told her. Maybe to her, he was complaining about the town just like she did, like everyone did. Maybe in her mind she had built a future like he had, just on a different set, cast in different rolls. Maybe neither had said enough.

He snuck out again that night and laid in the field, his field. He lay on the wet grass and stared at the constellations he knew so well, wondering why the endless sky suddenly seemed less a place of escape and just another facet of his stupid town where everyone but him seemed to want to stay.

His mind was just not comprehending how anyone couldn't see there was so much more than what was around them. That there was more than church on Sunday, the footballs games, the potlucks or the gossip that had been recycled a thousand times.

On the tape Tracy Chapman sang:

You got a fast car But is it fast enough so we can fly away We gotta make a decision We leave tonight or live and die this way

He’d heard the lyrics a million times, but that night it was those lyrics that hit him in the heart, more than it usually did.

Aimee was a fool. He had a fast car, he could get out, fly away, just a few more days and he’d be gone. If she didn’t want to come that was her decision and that was fine, but it didn’t have to be Eliot’s. He wouldn’t remain here.

He would not.

‘Weleave tonight or live and die this way’ that’s what Tracy sung and he’d already known on that night when he’d first heard the song that he would be driving off alone. He had tricked himself into thinking Aimee would come, but there had never been a we. Not for Eliot.

So on the night of his eighteenth birthday, he told his dad he was enlisting and fought with him, trying not to think of the lyrics ‘somebody’s got to take care of him,’ because even Tracy had seen she’d deserved better.

Still, even after he packed the last of his stuff, he swung by Aimee, asking her again, more urgent, more permanent, before promising he’d back for her. In case she needed him or if she’d changed her mind.

Then he was gone, off into the sunset. And as he tore down the highway, a tune blasted out of the radio.

I remember we were driving driving in your car The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder And I had a feeling that I belonged And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

And his foot on the gas peddle was intoxicating. He was going so fast that it was dangerous, but he didn’t care. He was riding to his future, to far off places and adventures. He was going to be someone.

That idea lasted approximately the ten weeks it took to train them, before shipping them out to an active war zone.

Though it had been chipped at relentlessly before already. Quite hard to be a someone in a cohesive unit. Not that it mattered to Eliot, he had a place to belong now, while his dream hadn’t matched Tracy’s, he was glad she had gotten him to this, with his brother’s in arms, even through all the horrors.

Yet, despite all she’d done for him, he forgot her and Fast Car.

There was not much room to listen to your own music and he was already a country hick, so he didn’t really need to amplify that more with a country music station.

He was fine fitting in the way he did. He wrote to Aimee, even if it was less and less, letters filled with empty promises made out of a sense of obligation to her and home. He didn’t speak to his father, nor his siblings. He stayed far away from everyone as his hands colored a dark red on foreign soil.

His bright and promising military career soon turned into a promotion to black ops where he didn’t exist to the government unless he came back.

The color of his hands didn’t change, it just got more pigmented as it dripped until wetwork was just a step to a better future. He had already killed so many people, getting paid almost nothing for a government that didn’t care. Why not do it for more money?

So, he had emptied his soul, filled it with money he didn’t truly need and more enemies around him, hoping it would be enough.

He had disappeared completely.

Eliot Spencer was no more, not really.

The man might still walk the earth, but anyone who met him didn’t live to tell the tale, so friendship was hard to come by. Maybe that’s why Moreau was such a welcome change in his life. There was a man, who might be powerful, but who would never have enough security against Eliot, smiling at him and offering him friendship – with money and a bit of violence thrown in – like Eliot was just another being he could own.

And by god did Eliot want to be owned. He once more longed to belong like he had done in the army, but he no longer was innocent enough for the army, which was an ironic sentiment that was true enough to hurt.

He had walked through pools of blood he had made, hoping no one would follow the bloody footsteps he left behind, but here there were others, who had walked through the same red sea as he had and who found each other under Moreau.

It was brutal work, soulless too. It was nothing more than destruction in exchange for power that was a fire with no ash left behind, just bare rock where nothing grew.

And Eliot was home.

Later, in a future he didn’t know he could have, when feeling returned to his limbs and he saw how his pools of blood had turned into seas had turned into floods and it was too late to turn back. Only then would he look back and hate himself, but not now.

Now Eliot was on top of the world. Sitting at the side of the most feared and most powerful of the underbelly of the underbelly, while remaining in an bright spotlight was the best place to be. He was untouchable and unfeeling.

He had always been weak for belonging, for seeing the world and making someone of himself and Moreau was the best salesman there was. He sold Eliot a unfulfilled dream with labor for Moreau as payment without the hitter every realizing.

So he went through the motions. He got more skills, he learned new things. He stopped enjoying life, though he would only later come to know that.

Eliot Spencer had disappeared under Moreau and not just from the records. He was no longer the boythat had driven out of a small town in Oklahoma to sign up for the army in the hope of being more than his neighbor.

Though, he supposed he had his dream. In a way. Here he was, more traveled than he could have ever hoped for with experiences so far from the norm that no one from his class could have ever matched his tales.

He had become what he had always dreamed to be, so why did he feel so hollow?

The answer came to him in the most horrific way he could imagine. He’d just pulled the trigger, he kept on doing it like he was supposed to but oh god- he’d done that. He killed them and he hadn’t even given them the time to beg, to spark humanity in his heart, because his heart had died long ago.

He needed to get out.

He needed to get far away from there.

From Moreau.

Why it had to be so extreme before he could finally see, he didn’t know. But it had. It had to get terrible, unforgivable. He had to see that the man he had been and wanted to be, was dead and that he was a devil with no chance at salvation.

As a hollow shell he’d ran. For a long time he had wondered if it was worth it to keep running, but slowly the people who chased him dwindled as less and less returned, until he knew he had been given a second chance. A chance to make it right.

It was Toby, who hammered in that lesson. The man might not have knownEliot’s complete tale, but he was familiar with the haunted look in his eyes, so he took Eliot under his wing and showed him how his hands were made for more than violence.

Eliot laid his guns down there and took up a knife, vowing to only fight where he could get hit in return, level the playing field. He’d never liked the power that came with a gun and now he wouldn't pick one up again to be tempted by that voice.

He wouldn't be that man anymore. He refused. He would stay in Toby’s kitchen for now, figure out a plan that would carry him forwards as a better person. Not good, just better.

So it came to be that, one night, when he was alone in the kitchen, slicing up some onions for the prep for the next day, while tune played on the radio.

At first he hadn’t even recognized it, but still he listenedclosely, now scoffing at some of the lyrics, until one of the last verses played.

You got a fast car And I got a job that pays all our bills You stay out drinking late at the bar See more of your friends than you do of your kids I'd always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it I got no plans I ain't going nowhere So take your fast car and keep on driving

How ironic, he thought. He had always been so focused on the start of the song, on the getting out and leaving everything behind that he had never fully listened to the ending. To the fact that Tracy never got the ending she’d wanted.

He’d been stupid to think he’d ever get a happy ending. He’d been far less deserving off it and fate was never kind. He always prided himself on knowing better, but he’d been more foolish than anyone in his class.

‘I’d always hoped for better.’

And by god, he had. He had wanted so much, dreamed so big and set goals so unobtainable that he would always have keep on climbing.

So maybe he had never been Tracy, maybe he’d been the dick that had promised her the world and then never delivered. He thought of Aimee and how he had never been a settler, but someone that kept on disappointing and leaving.

The far car had not always been a car in his life, but he had always been on the road, always had been going somewhere, or maybe he’d just been running away.

Maybe now he had stopped running? Though, if he hadn’t been running, he’d been hiding. Here in Toby’s kitchen he had made a little haven away from everyone that had hurt him and that he had hurt. And he didn’t deserve that. Not after what he did.

Eliot made a vow to himself that night, listening to Fast Carin the back of a restaurant, both reminiscent and nothing like when he had first heard it. He would leave there and face the world, never kill again, just survive and try to do better.

He could at least try to do better.

So, he said goodbye to Toby and went off into the world. Toby wouldn’t go anywhere, but Eliot had to. He would remember Toby, however, carry him with him whenever he ate a new dish or went on a grift as a cook. It was a good time, one of the best he’d had since the army, maybe even since Aimee.

Still, he didn’t look back, not to her or Toby. He had things to do, people to help, as well as himself a bit. All of his funds from working from Moreau had disappeared and he needed to survive if he wanted to repent.

Somehow that road led him to a prick named Nate Ford and a job to get the plans of a plane back. It led him to Hardison, a nerd he liked more than he wanted to admit, and Parker, who made him smile with her antics as well as give him heart problems. It led him to Sophie, who had so many masks that he could relate to her and feel safe in his nobody-ness.

It led him to a team, more than a team really. After a while it reminded him of the army with all his brothers, family was closer, but he had no reference for family, except them.

Even Aimee told him they were, because he’d come back to help her when she needed him and part of him felt lighter on that promise fulfilled. It felt like a start. Not a new start, because it would never be fair to everyone he’d hurt to erase those sins like that, but it felt like he had a bucket and soap and the color of his hands might fade to a light pink one day.

And Eliot worked.

He pushed himself into more grifting, learned a bit of hacking, scaled building hanging from a tiny rope and learned to think of more than just strategic exits and weaknesses in physique. He completed the jobs they were hired to do and he helped people.

What he had dreamed off when he had first joined the army, he found at Leverage. He found family, a home, a sense of duty and belonging. He was changing the world for the better.

It was amazing and more than he had ever hoped for himself, even on those nights alone with the radio, he couldn't have hoped it would end like this. He was someone. He practically had his own brewpub and a recent memory he could be proud off.

And he was proud as he reminisced alone in the kitchen of their office/apartment, where he was preparing some stuff for dinner for the next day. It was late and once this was done and in the fridge, he was done for today, but it would take a few more minutes.

Impulsively he put on the song on the speakers like Hardison had showed him. He hadn’t listen again since Toby, when he blamed himself and found himself on the other end of the song, but maybe now it would be different.

You got a fast car And we go cruising to entertain ourselves You still ain't got a job And I work in a market as a checkout girl I know things will get better You'll find work and I'll get promoted We'll move out of the shelter Buy a big house and live in the suburbs

Before he had never related to her dreams, just her drive to get away and make something of herself, but he could understand now. If he ever got too old for his job, then he wouldn't mind living the way he was now, with Hardison and Parker in the brewpub, making his own menu’s, serving people food.

He knew that for Tracy, she had to tell someone to leave, before she could make a move to get there. Still, he liked the verse now more than before. It spoke of a hope, of a view of the future and a certainty about the destination.

The lyrics he had scoffed at when he had just left Moreau, were dear to him now. ‘I know things will get better,’ it was stupid, but maybe- maybe Eliot could believe in that too now.

Without thinking, he put the song on repeat, before gathering the supplies for his marinade as he danced a bit around in the kitchen. It wasn’t as if there was anyone to catch him.

So, he remembered the stupid boy he had been, the heartless man who had forgotten and guy he was becoming now. Until the end of the song:

You got a fast car But is it fast enough so you can fly away You gotta make a decision You leave tonight or live and die this way

And it wasn’t the way the lyric was intended to land and Eliot’s life had went down a way different road than Tracy’s, but those lyrics where him.

He had a thousand ways to leave and had left a thousand more. He could fly away if he wanted, but it was in the fact that he had run that he had found strength. He was no longer a faceless soldier in the army or Moreau’s attack dog. He was Eliot Spencer and he was alive.

There had been a million moments when he could have made a different decision, but he hadn’t and even when it seemed he had been running away all his life, maybe he’d just been running towards this instead.

‘Leave tonight or live and die this way.’

Huh, he wouldn't mind dying for these people, he wouldn't mind living for these people. He was content to be and never leave. All those times he’d snuck out and dreamed, he had never dreamed here, but he was someone and he had found a place to belong.

So he made the decision and stayed. Till his dying day and all that.

A/N:

I love Christian Kane’s cover of Fast Car so much and I played in on repeat while writing this. The original version of the song also still has a soft place in my heart though.

((the song is not in order and some parts are missing, but you know, you don’t always learn a song in the right order and other parts speak to you at different times))

#RR writing #Eliot Spencer #Fast Car #Leverage #Fast Car by Tracy Chapman #leverage tv

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escxpiism · 3 years

Text

triggers: drug use & drugging implications, suicidal ideation (and serious consideration!), grooming (especially july 4th!!!!!!!), kidnapping/captivity (ofc)

infection, not a phase

“ for all the times you let them bleed you, for a little peace from god you plead. ”

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

it would be a lie to say she hadn’t thought of luke’s untimely death time and time again. for all she had been told -- for the amount of times she’d been told she shouldn’t think of it as ‘untimely’ -- it remained degrees beyond difficult. he was, in many ways, her savior. but the thoughts and memories now resurfaced with a passion.

for what a terrible person she was. what she had done to repay him for the favor she had asked for. what she had done when he’d given her so much. when he’d risked himself for her.

june 13th, 2013 ; 8:43PM - 11:13 PM:

who could she turn to ? she couldn’t relent and go back, not after what anna said after allen finally took it too far. finally went past the point of no return. there was no more pretending he could love her, not after the shake’s confirmation. she couldn’t turn to a friend. they knew her friends far too well. she couldn’t turn to her boyfriend. they knew him far too well. they would all be the first and last places they would check -- assuming they would bother to check.

there was one person who she knew she could always seek refuge in. but whether he was accepting guests at that hour or not, caring for his ailing father as he was, was a gamble. but considering for too long would risk someone close to them seeing her. considering for too long would risk a return before she was truly ready. so, for the first time in years, she acted upon impulse.

rapping on the door, that familiar face came to open it. and she already saw concern in his eyes -- concern before she said anything. perhaps that was what tears generated. concern. empathy. there was a lingering pause before he finally broke the silence that she couldn’t bring herself to. “ do you need to come in ? ”

she nodded in response. need. perhaps he did know her as well as she hoped he did. after a moment’s consideration, she asked, “ am i... is your dad... ? ” and he shook his head. because he was concerned. whatever that meant, he was it.

“ no, he’s fine. he’s asleep. ” how many days of sleep did he have left ? his eyebrows furrowed, closing the door behind her. “ what... what happened ? ” and then, in the most responsible voice he could muster, “ why didn’t you go to one of your friends’ ? ”

“ that’s where they think i’m gonna be. she told me. ” and it would be easier, but she couldn’t admit defeat.

he huffed, frustrated with himself for his weakness. “ it’ll look bad if people find out i let a sixteen-year-old stay the night. ”

“ but, no -- they would have to understand. i... you didn’t have a choice -- i came to you, he hurt me. and it’ll -- it’ll just be tonight. i promise. ”

a pullout couch. blankets layered on top of each other. a sympathetic half-smile. sad. concerned. but who was he concerned for ?

“ thank you, luke. i promise -- i promise it’ll just be for the night. and i can... i can say i was in a park or something. ”

he nodded his head, that same sad smile plastered on his face. those same concerned eyes. a swollen heart. “ you know, i think you’d like santa monica. ” what beautiful parks his neighborhood possessed. he then offered a few pats, restraining himself. “ have sweet dreams, alice. ”

it was a pretty little disguise. a lozenge, wrapped in a pretty little pill ! it would be so easy. stay on that rooftop, drown in the bottle. finally be the fool who fell. or choke on her guilt as her breathing slowed beyond what she could control, allow her heart to sink in. she was there. right at the ledge of masters’ rooftop. sitting on it. legs dangling over the city. and they were in her hand. one... two... three... there could be more if she wanted.

how funny it would be. be the fool who finally falls, credit to the reason so many fools went up there in the first place. she set the bottle down. held the railing beside her with one hand, rings clanging against the metal.

august 29th, 2013 ; 3:47PM - 9:08PM:

she had gotten him wrong. beyond a wolf in sheep’s clothing -- everything off about him had always seemed nothing but endearing to her before. everything that made him a menace now simply made him so captivating before -- his penchant for keeping secrets. but what were the other secrets he kept ? who else had he had, dancing under his thumb ? who else had he enchanted, only to destroy in the end ? or was she special ? as he always said -- as she didn’t want to believe anymore. or maybe she did, but no longer for the same reason.

the keys had been dropped, a clang he didn’t notice beyond her yelling. to which he reminded her that no one could hear her. and no one was looking for her. because she was safe with him -- all reports she sent back implied safety. a wavering voice, perhaps, but one her sister wouldn’t recognize. not when they barely recognized each other’s regular voices ( something alice had tried to change one too many times, but to no avail -- if, by some miracle, she was found... what would be the use ? ) his back was turned, ever the warden in every sense of the word. but what good warden would drop the keys and not so much as realize it ?

although they were mere feet away, it was with great hesitation that she bent down to collect them. but it was with great primal urge that she rushed to him, to the door, and jammed the key inside. a click. freedom in sight. her only obstacle now in front of her, blocking her every move. overpowering her. taking her wrists as she tried with all her might to fight him. to push him out. but he stood like a rock.

“ i do everything for you. ” a calm statement. “ and this is how you repay me ? ” and it was with unfortunate ease that he forced her back into the cellar. recollected the keys. shook his head in disappointment -- disappointment in himself.

he disappeared. and how close she’d been... the closest she’d ever gotten. a collapse. how weak she was. every level -- too weak to fight through him, so weak she’d turned to him, so weak she’d let herself fall for him. so weak that he called her special. her first chance. her only chance.

...

some hours later ( she assumed ), he reentered. with a sigh, he extended an olive branch: a glass of water. and when she began fading ( this was new ), he began a slight spiel. “ i’m so sorry, alice... but you had to know this would be coming after a stunt like that. ” a promise to still shower. a promise to still take care of all necessities. but with something new, something important. “ i wish i didn’t have to do this. ”

and when she regained complete consciousness, one hand was cuffed to a metal pole within the cellar.

all hopes of escaping left her mind.

“ this is your life now. i’m sorry. ”

this wasn’t her life. this wasn’t the life she deserved. just as that wasn’t the ending he deserved. but perhaps this was the ending she deserved. a mess of broken bones, nearly unrecognizable. by the time they finally found the right person to identify her, be they one of her sisters or joey or phoenix or adri, it would be too late. they could only keep severed remains for so long -- or so she’d heard.

and pills may be too peaceful. falling asleep. not waking up. but watching death near her, watching it come straight to her from 600 feet or so. everything slowing down. her memories flashing. memories of him. memories of where she went wrong. memories of who she once was. memories of a life she once lived. memories that made her strong and memories that made her weak. memories of how everything started.

march 1st, 2013 ; 5:14PM - 5:24PM:

a neighborhood gala to ring in the honorary start of spring, a common one thrown by the adams. the show they put on was always beautiful. the perfect family, close on all fronts. for that one night, they were like the fantasy family sitcoms. she played the mini-mother, as did her sisters. they were all to act humble as their parents shared their latest achievements and accolades.

but there was a new face in the crowd this time.

“ as some of y’all may have noticed, richard wasn’t able to make it tonight. i know we’re all keeping him in our prayers... ” a moment of silence, as if he was already dead. “ but let’s all give a warm old welcome to his son and caretaker, luke johnson. he came in all the way from california just to help his dad and our friend, and if that ain’t the type of hospitality we’re looking for down here, i don’t know what is. ”

he smiled. he raised his champagne flute. he mouthed a ‘thank you’ as the inevitable clapping began. because to be introduced in such a fashion by anna adams was nothing short of an honor.

alice felt a draw to him. his silent charisma alone. and she did one thing she would always regret, for one reason or another: she walked towards him in his tan suit.

she, as she was taught in all etiquette courses, extended a hand. and he took it, shook it. and there was an immediate moment of connection.

“ i’m luke. ”

a laugh. “ i think everyone knows that after my ma’s introduction. it’s a real honor, y’know. ” she met his eyes. “ i’m alice. ”

so what was stopping her in that moment ? she’d done it before. she could do it again. and she could succeed. because, from so many feet above, there was no turning back. there was no stomach pump. there were no bandages and stitches. all there was was concrete and the onlookers of a city that never cared. from 600 feet or so above, there would not just be broken bones. there would not just be maiming. she was too close to the night sky for that.

she tilted forward, gaining a better view of the streets and all the passersby in the moonlight. the harmony of honking taxis and screaming pedestrians. the light show of times square somewhere in the distance and the neon sign of the adult shop that situated itself in front of the building. ‘open. 24 hours.’ it blinked, green and red.

july 4th, 2013 ; 7:45PM - 10:00PM:

“ i know you’ve got other traditions you’re used to, ” luke began, desperately attempting to spread out a picnic blanket, “ but i don’t think you’ve ever gotten to see fireworks from this high up, have you ? it can be a new one. ”

they didn’t have a cook-out. he just bought in-n-out. it wasn’t like home. and maybe there were aspects of home that she didn’t miss, but the annual neighborhood cook-out was one thing she truly did. even if she had to pretend her family was something it wasn’t, it was always so nice. mingling, talking to the neighbors, catching up, talking about the firecrackers ( and it was always the michaels’ kids setting them off, which was something to talk about all on its lonesome ! ). “ is this how you spend all your fourths ? ” she asked, turning to luke as he continued fighting the wind.

“ mhm. ” he nodded. “ usually i’m alone, though. ” he took a break from his battle with the wind to look her in the eyes and offer that same sad smile he had so many nights ago. “ i’m glad i’m not this year. ”

when he finally conquered the picnic blanket, punctuated by an ‘aha!,’ he was quick to set the bag on one corner and himself on the opposite. he patted the corner next to him and she took a seat. oh, how she would be lying if she said it wasn’t a beautiful view. so high up, she felt as though she was above the entire state.

she sighed, unsure whether it was one of disappointment or content. perhaps both. but, looking at the sky as the sun set, she met his eyes and mirrored his sad smile. “ i’m glad you’re not alone this year, too. ”

and there they sat, making idle chit-chat. how was work? how was your day? only a few more months until your birthday. wasn’t your birthday exactly a month ago? i know you miss your home, but this is for the best. i know you miss your dad, i’m sorry. what were your childhood fourth traditions? do you miss them? how did you find this place? when did you start coming up here? i’m glad i could share this with you. i’m glad i could be here.

9:45PM came with ease, barely realizing any time had passed since they first sat down. the crackles in the sky were their only hint that the show had started at all. “ you know what we do every year down back home ? ” alice asked, body facing luke, eyes facing the sky.

with an enchanted smile, he shook his head. “ no -- what is it ? ”

“ so, during the show, we’ll say something like ‘that next firework’s’ some neighbor’s name. ” she shrugged. “ it’s a little dumb, i know, but... it was always a fun way to pa- ”

“ this next firework is alice, ” he interrupted. green and red shot into the air, a quiet crack. “ like that ? ” he asked, turning back to her with a smile -- a real one.

she returned that real smile and nodded. “ like that. ”

“ you had a pretty firework, i’m a little bit jealous. ”

“ well... this next firework’s luke. ” and into the air went a loud blue and purple explosion. “ see ? you got a pretty firework too. ”

and into the night they went, naming fireworks after each other until the show was over. until they deemed the finale them.

if it were the daytime, perhaps she would have had an audience by now. she was putting on her very own show, wasn’t she ? after all, if she couldn’t go to prison for him, the least she could do was join him. why had she let him do it alone ? why had she taken the gun ? and why did it only have one bullet ? something so off about that single bullet.

october 26th, 2013 ; 7:11PM - 7:14PM:

she failed. she had chosen the keys in favor of his overdosed body. but what a good actor he had been. saline solution. just saline solution. ( or perhaps he was bad, but she was too out of it to realize. )

whatever the case, it had been some hours. maybe some days. before he reentered for anything other than the average schedule. open door. close. lock. tuck away. “ i need you to know that i’m not a monster, ” he prefaced, withdrawing a vinyl copy of stevie nicks’s ‘bella donna’. “ i’ll bring down the record player with dinner. ”

she cocked her head to the side. a gift. remorse ? perhaps. but he had done this before, and all she’d received was an apology.

“ i wouldn’t starve you out on your birthday. happy seventeenth. ”

march 10th, 2014 ; 11:09PM - 11:15PM:

the last date she remembered was christmas. she had lost count since. how many days, weeks, months it had been, she wasn’t sure. he would still take her out of the room for extended periods of time every now and again. and for that, she remained grateful. he would never let her leave. she knew that. but at least he created illusions.

the door opened. it did not lock. it did not close. he stood in the doorway. he walked over. she said nothing. he looked into her eyes. she saw sadness. she saw fear. she saw happiness. he was always hard to read.

he took the keys from his pocket and undid the handcuff. it was hard to process. a free hand. an open door. the only obstacle was, once again, him. but her automatic response was not to run. he set the keys down on the island. “ can you stand ? ”

she could. she did.

“ i know the end is near, and i don’t want you to remember me like... that. i want you to remember me like this, or like the guy i was when we watched the fireworks. do you remember that ? ” he began, that familiar sad smile accompanying his question. and she nodded. “ i’m going to close my eyes and stay here for ten seconds. do whatever you need to do, ” he stated, sliding the keys in her direction before covering his eyes and beginning to count down from ten.

this was her chance. her first, true chance. she slowly slid the keys off the table, taking five of the numbers in his countdown to do so. but she didn’t move any further. why didn’t she move any further ? it was as though she was paralyzed from the waist down. would she miss this ? would she miss him ? was this truly all she knew now ?

was this her life now ?

when he uncovered her eyes, saw her still standing there, that sad smile returned. “ you should’ve gone, alice... but thank you. ” he gently took the keys from her again. “ i’m sorry, ” he stated as he attached the handcuff again. “ i’ll make a good breakfast tomorrow. ”

and she slid down the pole, unsure of what had just happened. but as he tucked the keys back in his pocket, she heard them clang against another piece of metal.

there weren’t just two obstacles.

there was only one obstacle now. but it was one she always had such difficulty beating. she could never get her feet to move when she wanted them to, not when it was important. so there she remained, the very edge of the ledge, feet against the side of the building. one push off. one stretch of her legs.

another ‘pill.’ round it out. numb it. move forward. an inch away. perhaps she can be seen now. perhaps she would be like those movies. a crowd gathers in morbid curiosity. everyone both does and does not want her to fall.

and how close she was. until the nightshift remembered the roof. and there was a comprehensive list of people she would always refuse to traumatize: one of whom was sal.

#grooming tw #suicidal ideation tw #drugs tw #kidnapping tw #<- but what else is new!#v dark. v dark.#alice .#alice | sp !#ANYWAY [THIS IS] WHAT U MISSED ON GLEE!#sal. mvp.#so. i looked it up. and apparently the average skyscraper is ~500ft #i imagine masters is a lil taller but!#q !#<- this para so Big im nervous 2 simply Post Her™

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alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom · 3 years

Text

THE MASTERPIECE: CHAPTER 5/5

Pairing: Modern!IVAR x Reader x Modern!HVITSERK

Spotify playlist: here (only for those who like latin urban music)

Warnings: strong language

Words: 2432

a/n: OK dear readers, I hope you get finally all the answers you needed. I hope you enjoy it as much as @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie and I did.

Summary:

Ivar and Hvitserk had always prided themselves in being the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. They had a comfortable life full of everything they wanted: houses, cars, money, and the most beautiful women. And with all of that came the security of always having the upper hand. But what happens when a bewitching girl from Ragnar’s past arrives into their lives claiming his fortune?

“So, you don’t remember half of the night?”

“Only bits and pieces,” Ivar admitted, with a mortified countenance.

“Wow. Well, I’m happy that you finally fucked yourself into oblivion, little brother. Welcome to the club.” Hvitserk’s grin made Ivar’s lips twitch in annoyance. “Anyway, I just called you here to say that this morning I gave her that painting that dad loved so much and she said she would give us our inheritance back in exchange. We should be fine now.”

“Wait a moment. You did what?!” He could feel his blood boiling with every question that he shot at his sibling. “Couldn’t you tell me that at home? And would you like to explain to me why you didn't consult it with me first, you idiot?” Ivar stood up fast as a lightning bolt. One of the bones in his leg gave a considerably loud creak but he masked the pain by wrinkling his face in anger.

People started staring at them but as always, Ivar didn’t care what others thought of him.

“I don’t get it. What’s this frenzy about?” Hvitserk was pretty proud of the deal that he had sealed with Y/N and he currently felt embarrassed by Ivar’s behavior. “Please sit down, Ivar.” He spoke softly avoiding his eyes.

“No! Shut up and listen to me! In that fucking picture you gave her there was a key hidden behind the frame. It opened up a locker or a box, I don’t know! But something valuable for sure! Father put it there so no one could find it. I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I thought we could take the painting with us if our plan to talk to her failed and she left us without any money. She wouldn’t notice it anyway. Father must have stored a lot of important papers and expensive things somewhere. Now that we are one step closer to being poor, they wouldn’t be a bad thing to have.”

“But how did she know it was that painting for sure?”

Ivar looked like he was putting together some clues inside his brain. “Wait a second…” His expression fell in an instant and he knew himself to be the biggest fool. “I think- I think she drugged me...”

“Druggedyou?!” Hvitserk’s olive eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. The second time we met. I remember feeling very strange after she served me that wine and she started asking questions about father. Then the rest of the night passed in a blur.”

“That makes no sense. Y/N asked me for that painting before she drugged you.”

“Well, we still don’t know how, but she knew our father at some point... Maybe she remembered that Ragnar liked it and I was the idiot who told her it had a key in the back...” Ivar offered the best explanation he could think of. His teeth clashed together in anger.

“At this point,” Hvitserk rubbed his forehead with exasperation. “I don’t care. It doesn’t really matter how she knew. All that matters is that she probably beat us to that locker and took everything that was inside.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” Ivar found it uncomfortable to ask Hvitserk that question because he truly didn’t want to know.

“Last night. She slept in my room.”

“Meaning you slept withher,” Ivar emphasized and rolled his eyes.

Hvitserk ignored his bitter comment.

“You know there’s something I still don’t understand.”

“And what’s that?”

“If you guys slept around so much, she could’ve easily taken the key when you weren’t looking. Why did she have to wait a whole fucking month?”

Hvitserk straightened up in his seat and looked at Ivar with a strange expression. “Uhh... Well... Before Y/N left this morning, she told me something...”

Ivar raised an eyebrow urging him on. “Go on.”

“I mean...” Hvitserk exhaled and grimaced slightly. “You really wanna know? I know you fell for her, brother...”

“Didn’t you?” Ivar deflected swiftly with a quick scoff.

Hvitserk shook his head calmly. “No. She was just great in bed. Although I can’t really blame you.” His tone was much softer than before.

Ivar glanced at the dirty dishes in front of them and wished with every bone in his body that Hvitserk would remove his eyes from his face so he could bask alone in his shame. “So, what did Y/N say?”

“She told me that she liked me a lot but that it was time we stopped seeing each other for good. Maybe... maybe she wasn’t ready to let go before?”

“Are you implying that she didn’t leave before because she fell in love with your pathetic ass?”

“Maybe... I don’t know.” Hvitserk heard Ivar's choice of words very well but he didn’t insult him back. He rarely took the bait anymore.

The fact that Hvitserk’s voice hid no hint of arrogance or pride anymore only made it worse because that meant he was being sincere.

“Or maybe...” Ivar spat back with animosity. “Maybe she was just a sadistic cunt that enjoyed playing with us until she got bored.”

Hvitserk shrugged. “Perhaps...”

“In any case, we need to find out where she is now.”

“So, call her!”

Ivar put a hand inside his pocket and clawed around until he produced his phone. He dialed the number and waited, fingers trembling with rage.

“You have reached a number that has been disconnected. If you feel this is an error, please check the number and try again.”

They exchanged a look, seemingly reading each other’s minds. Ivar threw a bill on the table and they hurried to get to their car.

Yet it was useless. They searched for her in her house but she was nowhere to be found. The neighbors swore they hadn’t seen her so they rushed to the car again until they reached their home. Even though they knew that technically, ever since Y/N signed those papers, everything they owned had ceased being theirs, nobody prepared them for the sight of the bare walls of their house.

There was a big crew working diligently to empty the mansion of all the furniture and art pieces. Their clothes hung from movable racks and every utensil, down to the most insignificant silver fucking spoon was packed in boxes.

“Ivar and Hvitserk Lothbrok?” A stuck-up-looking guy with a load of documents in his hand addressed them.

“Yes?” Ivar answered since his brother was too occupied staring ahead as if he’d fallen into a trance.

“Ms. Y/N Y/L/N sold your house and will be keeping all the profits since, as you know, the property belongs to her. You can come to collect your personal belongings at this warehouse tomorrow. Along with the deed to your new house.” He produced an ivory-white card with the name of his company on it.

“H-house? What house?” Hvitserk finally pulled himself together for long enough to stutter out a question.

“As this document states, this house is located in...” The real estate agent ran his index finger over the paper searching for more details. “...in Kattegat.” He stated plainly.

Ivar couldn’t believe his ears, his voice raising considerably high. “You mean, father’s abandoned farm in the middle of fucking nowhere? The one that smells like cow piss and pig shit?”

The man raised an eyebrow sternly. “Oh, so you already know the house, that’s great. Y/N specified that the cottage was to be your only part of the inheritance.”

Ivar took a shaky step back in surprise, his legs wobbling in the process when thinking about how that nasty hateful woman had managed to utterly destroy their lives in less than a month.

“Now, could you kindly exit this estate? You’re trespassing on private property. Thank you.”

~~·······~~

Y/N’s POV

Dear diary,

I realized last night that I had been avoiding taking the painting because I was afraid of what I could find. But it was time to face the truth and unfortunately, I also had to say goodbye to my boy toys.

It took me less effort than I expected to find that locker. I made my way to the biggest bank in the city and once there, everything was easy. I just had to show them the key and the inheritance certificate and they led me into a room where the big bulletproof box was set in front of me. It felt cold and lifeless. The metal walls of the room with no windows made me feel like a caged criminal. Some probably would say that of me, but I’m only reclaiming what I’m owed.

My restlessness was evident in the way that my hands were trembling and my legs felt spongy.

I popped the lid open and I saw that the box was almost empty. Just a few stacks of money, some pieces of jewelry, and two yellowed letters.

One was already open and I recognized my own handwriting. But the other envelope was brown and the writing had faded, barely readable anymore but I would recognize Ragnar’s handwriting anywhere in a pinch.

I took the first letter and eyed the familiar words.

~~·······~~

Dear Ragnar,

I hope you are doing well. I saw the contact details from your company in an ad. So, I decided to take a chance to tell you everything that’s on my mind since you disappeared overnight and I never heard from you again.

I know about Aslaug and her rich daddy. I know marrying her must’ve seemed like too perfect an opportunity to pass up but you owe me an explanation, Ragnar.

You know very well that all that you achieved at first was because I used my magic skills in your favor. When no one else believed in your dreams, you turned to me for aid. Don’t forget that it was me the one who helped you build your empire before you turned greedy and married that pale emaciated chick. And don’t forget that I was the one who satisfied your every addiction, with my herbs and with my body, just the way you liked it.

You once promised me that you would never leave me. That you would always be by my side.And then you failed me.

I’ll never forget how you told me that I was your Valhalla on earth.

So, I’m waiting for you, my love.

With love,

Y/N

~~·······~~

I wrote that letter years ago, just a few months after he left me and I’m still as empty as I was back then. My tears fell one by one on the sheet of paper and the letters in them dissolved. Reading these lines again hurt. I felt the same sorrow as I did then until my tears of sadness turned into tears of anger.

Then I blew the dirt away, read my name at the top of the second letter, and started reading with eager eyes and an accelerated heart.

~~·······~~

Dear Y/N,

I never forgot about all of those words. You were the best thing that ever happened to me but you have to understand that I had to think of things to come. I wanted my future sons to be the emperors of a world that I would carve for them. I wanted the Lothbrok name to go down in history. And Aslaug was a necessary part of it.

But I regret all of it now. I see that perhaps it’s best if they make their own path. I regret ever leaving you and I’m sorry for the pain that I caused you. That’s why I’ve decided to leave everything to you once I die, in the hopes that I can right the wrongs I did and that you will someday forgive me. Please, treat my sons kindly. They don’t deserve to pay for my mistakes. I know you will do the right thing and not leave them in complete destitution.

My heart will always belong to you, Y/N.

All my love,

Ragnar

~~·······~~

Ragnar thought that by leaving me all of his money I would forgive him for his abandonment. But even though I love him, I could never forgive him. He was a simple and humble farmer, but greed corrupted him; it made his soul fester inside. And when he left, my heart turned to ashes. I thought I could feel something for Hvitserk but I was wrong. It’s impossible for me to love anyone ever again.

Ragnar is still a coward to me. He just used me to get high, or whenever he needed a good fuck. He exchanged me for the pretty daughter of some wealthy art collector who would help him get access to the highest corners of society. In my book, that could only mean that he never cared about me at all.

He chose to discard me like a used doll as if he hadn’t spent the longest days in my bed, consuming every intoxicating herb and exotic potion that I put in front of him, and loving every second of it. Ragnar fucked the best whenever he was high, and lucky for me, in those days, he was always high.

I played the same trick on the boys I used on Ragnar. Seeing my naked body and perfectly rounded breasts always got him in the perfect mood and he could only focus on me, forgetting about everything around him.

He never wanted his new family to know about us because I was the one supplying him with his drugs and his good luck. But he never saw me as a necessary part of his life. I don’t understand why I had so much faith in him. How could I be so stupid?

Ivar and Hvitserk deserve to suffer. Since I can’t make Ragnar bend over in agony, they will pay in his place. I will call my lawyer and by the time they get home, they will be out in the streets.

I will never regret any of the things I did. They had to be done. Unfortunately, I will be too far away to see the stupid look on their faces when they realize that our old muddy farm, where Ragnar and I used to live when we were younger, is the only thing they will get to keep. Hard work and misery are the only things they will know from now on...

My name is Y/N, and this is the story of how I ruined the Lothbrok dynasty.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #kattegat

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misssunflowersandsangria · 4 years

Text

Where the Wind can Reach

Hello my lovely dearies! I've had this in my drafts folder for a while. I hope that you enjoy some cute Suna family fluff!

Summary: Leaving Suna to be with Shikamaru wasn't an easy decision. A quiet moment with her brother reminds Temari about what matters most.

** Where the Wind can Reach

“Hey Tem, you ready?”

Temari turned to look at her brother who smiled brightly at her. Kankurou wasn’t often stunned speechless but this was one of those rare occasions.

“Well ...who knew that you could clean up so nicely.” He teased her not used to seeing her in fancy clothes and without a weapon. She probably had one somewhere. Seeing her in a sparkling white, elaborate kimono hit home that his big sister was getting married. She was a vision of excitement and joy.

“I hate you.” The smile on her face took the bite away from the statement.

“I know.”

“You look nice.” Temari complimented him smoothing down his hair. It reminded him of their younger days when she’d make sure that he was presentable before any meetings.

“I don’t know why you insisted that I couldn’t wear my face paint. I look like dad without it.” He was genuinely surprised by the request and initially called her a bridezilla. That earned him a few well deserved slaps to the face. Ultimately, he was smart enough to comply with her wishes. He was there bare-faced and it felt unsettling but there were very few things that she’d asked him to do for the wedding.

Her eyes were soft and contemplative. “I know you do. I think that for today, for this occasion. It’s okay.” He waited, staring at her confused.

“I know it’s silly but it's kind of like both you and dad are giving me away.”

Kankuro had to bite back a sob. He pulled her into a tight hug. “Damn it Tem, making me cry is really going to mess up my reputation.”

She chuckled returning the hug, hiding her own tears.

Temari knew that it was strange but there was a part of her that wished that her father was there. Unlike her brothers, she had a few hazy memories of life before the jinchuriki. When her mother was alive and her father wasn’t a monster.

Kankuro hated that he looked so much like the previous Kazekage. Seeing himself in the mirror oftentimes felt like a cruel reminder of his father and what he’d done. They’d all tried to work through the issues of their past but the scars remained. Regardless, if Temari wanted to feel like their father was there for her wedding, he’d happily do this for her.

“To be clear. I’m not giving you to Nara. If anything you’re just on loan. You sure you wanna go through with this? I could make a big scene, hide you in one of my puppets, leave you in the desert where no one could find you. It could be like a fun treasure hunt.”

She rolled her eyes, this wasn’t his first time he had some hair-brained idea to stop this wedding. “You moron. Shikamaru would find me.”

Kankurou shrugged. “He is as stubborn as you are, you’re probably right. However, say the word and Gaara and I will start an international incident and bring you right back here.”

She began to worry the pendant on the necklace Shikamaru had given her the night before. She’d been avoiding this conversation but it was now or never. “Are you two going to be okay without me?”

“You’re talking about the Kazekage and his adviser, of course, we’re not going to be okay. Being with the deer keeper is what you want so we will survive.”

She sighed before admitting her true feelings. “I feel like I’m being selfish, leaving you and Gaara, moving to Konoha.”

Kankurou waved off her concerns, not surprised by the admission. “It is totally selfish and it is completely the right thing to do. If we didn’t fight that war for you to be able to be with the person that you want, what was the point of all of it? You deserve whatever it is that will make you happy. And Nara makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Nothing means more than that.”

She knew that she loved Shikamaru and wanted to be with him. Still, it was hard not to worry about everyone else in her life. This was never her dream. She wanted to be helpful and acknowledged by her brothers. Now, a happy life with Shikamaru was what she wanted.

Kankurou could see the hesitation in her eyes. His sister had always been selfless and loyal to the core. If he or Garra made a fuss she would cast aside her own happiness for them. He would never allow that to happen.

He wrapped a comforting arm around her. “Come on Tem. It’s like you always warned me when we were kids. There’s nowhere on Earth that the wind can’t reach. Even when you’re in Konoha you’ll be here. The work that you do will have far-reaching consequences here. You’re still our Princess.” Temari leaned into his side, thankful for the reassuring words. Her homeland and brothers would be okay. She raised them well.

“How’s everyone doing out there?”

“It’s a circus act. Tons of dignitaries and important people from all the great nations. Thanks for saving me from it. Garra is out there playing host. We could have probably sold tickets to this. It’s not every day that the Princess of Suna gets married.”

Initially, she and Shikamaru wanted a small wedding. They very quickly discovered that was never an option. Between their respective roles in their villages, the political ties, and familial ones this wedding was going to be an event. She hadn’t realized how many people were invested in their relationship. It represented not only the bringing together of two families but two nations. Their marriage ushered in a new era. Proof that peace had been achieved.

“How’s Shikamaru?”

Kankurou was ready with a snarky remark but just smiled reassuringly. “He’s ready to be married to you.”

He’d check on the groom as one final chance to play the protective brother role. To his credit, Shikamaru hadn’t been intimidated. Whether it was because he knew Kankuro only wanted the best for his sister or that he knew Temari would be more than capable of taking care of him herself, they bonded. Kankuro may joke but he knew that his sister had found the best partner for her. He recognized without a doubt that Shikamaru would love and protect his sister with all that he had.

“I’m ready to be married to him too.” They’d spent so much of their relationship apart, she was excited to finally wake up each day knowing that he was there.

“Stop it, you’re being gross and romantic. It’s weird.”

Temari rolled her eyes but was thankful that he could help calm her nerves. “It’s my wedding, what do you expect?”

He just chuckled giving her another affectionate hug.

“I love you, big sister.” For so long it had just been the two of them. Eventually, Garra completed their set. The famed sand siblings against the world. Their lives were much different now. Filled with so many people that they loved and stood by their sides. It was reassuring to know that at the core would always be the three of them. They weren’t losing anything their family was just growing.

“I love you too Kankuro.”

Surprising them both another set of arms enclosed around them.

“Garra?” He just nodded and they held onto each other tightly. Temari tried to subtly wipe away her tears. How many times had she held them together just like this in less happy circumstances? Now it was for something much different. Her brothers were holding her together.

‘Mother, father, I hope you can see how happy we are now.’

“Ready Temari?” Garra asked while both of her brothers reached a hand out to her.

Taking their hands in hers she nodded. “Yes.”

Temari held onto her new husband tightly. Shikamaru danced so awkwardly but she refused to let them end the night without slow dancing.

She smiled feeling his warm lips kiss her forehead.

“I love you wife.”

Wife...she was someone’s wife. Not just anyone’s wife. She was Shikamaru’s wife. So much for marriage being a drag.

“I love you too Shika.”

“Have you enjoyed everything?” It had been a busy and emotional day but she was finally married to the love of her life. For all that it was, it was perfect for them.

“It’s been a lot but something I’ll always cherish. Can you believe that we’re actually married?” She grinned, joy sparkling in her eyes.

“Honestly, no.” He chuckled and she couldn’t help but agree. They both probably would have remained single if they hadn’t met. How their wants in life had changed.

He placed a kiss against her palm. His lips meeting the cool metal of her ring the outward symbol of his love for her. “Still, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. Thank you for marrying me.” She nodded resting her head against his chest overwhelmed by emotion and relief.

“Are you okay?” He knew all about her worries and anxieties about leaving home. There were moments that he was genuinely afraid that her love for Suna and her brothers would outweigh her need to be with him. He’d asked her for so much. For the rest of their days, he would prove that her decision was a wise one.

She gazed out at the crowd. The people that they loved the most in the world enjoying themselves, happy and carefree. Kankuro was celebrating with the best of them and had a pretty intense drinking contest against Killer B. He was now trying to convince Garra to let loose.

“Come on Garra! Your sister just got married, you should dance!!!!”

Temari just smiled to herself watching the scene play out. Her heart felt at peace seeing them there happy and at ease. She knew that no matter where she was she carried her brothers with her.

So she nodded settling back into her husband’s arms before reaching up to kiss him. They had all been through so much and could have lost everything time and again. In the end, she had everything that she wanted.

“Yes, I have you, we’ll be together. Everything is perfect.”

This story was born from the headcannon that Kankurou wears face paint because he looks so much like his dad. He hates it so the facepaint. I have a special place in my heart for him being a middle child as well lol I love the Sand Siblings so much!!!!

Maybe one day I’ll actually write out ShikaTema’s wedding.

Thanks again for reading! Likes/Comments are never required but always appreciated!

If you're interested I have a few smutty prompts that were shared with me that I can't wait to get my hands dirty with lol and I have a few other ideas jumping around but work is starting up again soon. :sigh: I'll be back soon! Till then take care of yourself and know that I love you!

#shikatema #shikatem #shikamaru x temari #fanfic #fluff #family fluff #pre wedding jitters #sand siblings #middle child rights

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thecorteztwins · 4 years

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And now for this week’s installment of Alt-Marauders stuff! Tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes and @littlemeangreen since I know you guys like it. This week it’s: “Building Character” - Shinobi/Sebastian “Daddy’s Girl” -Manon/Sebastian “Flames” - Pyro/Alice “First Resort” - Sebastian/Haven “Human” -Haven/Madelyne

“BUILDING CHARACTER” (Warning: References to child abuse, and no apologies for it) It was evening at Blackstone, and its occupants were there for the first time in two weeks spent seafaring. “I had my reservations about giving you another chance,” Sebastian admitted, standing by the sitting room window, looking out over his domain, “But you’ve done well.” Shinobi hated himself for the pride and happiness that flooded through him at his father’s words. He was still so weak, so dependent on this man’s approval, the same man he hated so much, the man that MADE him like this. “We’ve done well,” he replied in apparent calm, “We’ve not attempted to kill each other, for instance.” His father turned his head and grinned at him, “Oh, I’m sure you have something up your sleeve for me sooner or later. And of course, I’m prepared for when you do.” “I thought about it,” Shinobi admitted matter-of-factually, “But what would it even matter now? You’d just come back. “I did before Krakoa. So did you. Twice, I believe,” Sebastian moved from the window and sat down in the chair across from his son now, “I used to think Shaws were just exceptionally hardy stock, but I’ve learned it seems to be a strange feature of mutants as a species.” “Yet you still worry I’ll off you?” Another smile from Sebastian, almost indulgent, “Oh, I’m not worried. I’m actually rather eager to see how you try to get around the resurrection issue. Trap me somewhere, perhaps, but ensure that I won’t starve or suffocate wherever I am? You were never a bright boy, Shinobi, and I’m sure your lifestyle choices haven’t helped with that---not that I’m judging you, we all have our wild oats to sow---but I’m hoping this new obstacle will start stimulating whatever brain cells you have left. Adversity builds character, didn’t I always tell you that?” “Yeah, mostly after you hit me.” In most families there would be an awkward silence after that. Shinobi was in fact hoping for it, hoping for any sign of shame in his father. Of course he didn’t get it. Sebastian reacted as if Shinobi had said ‘after you took me to a baseball game’ or anything else innocuous and normal in the life of an average father and son...whatever that was. Shinobi only had ideas from television. Although it seemed some stuff his dad did was normal, if Homer choking the life out of Bart on the regular was any indication of standard reality. “Exactly. You had to find some way to stop me from doing that, ideally by improving yourself so I would no longer have reason, though I’d have settled for almost anything else after a certain point so long as it worked,” said Sebastian. Then his tone turned regretful...but not for the reasons a normal person would, “You never did though. I’ve given up on very little in my life, Shinobi, but...” “But you gave up on pummeling me.” “I couldn’t shape you into something better. I realize that now. Only you can do that. And look? Now you are.” “Oh right you were beating me for MY SAKE,” said Shinobi, the bitter venom he felt inside finally beginning to seep out into his now-biting tone. “Yes, but also you just irritated me,” Sebastian said, and there was no bitterness in his, no venom, and no shame, “People seldom have a single motive, even a simple man such as I.” “Simple?” Shinobi did not expect his father to describe himself in such a word. “I never had grand ideals of Xavier and Erik, never wanted to herd an entire planet into my way of thinking. I was only ever concerned with what anyone should be---my own success. Which I achieved. Whereas their dreams are still unrealized, for all their efforts and claims.” “So why care about my success then?” Shinobi asked. And it was a good question, for it gave his father pause. A long pause. Shinobi knew that look on his father’s face---his father was thinking, and hard. And he wasn’t coming to an answer quickly either. “I can’t say it’s affection,” Sebastian finally answered, “You and I both know what a ridiculous notion that would be. Maybe the hope you’d be useful to me, but...” He trailed off, sounding doubtful. Shinobi wished it was that though, because being useful to his father would imply he had worth, his father needed him, the man he’d idolized---jeesus it made him choke even to think of that---would need him. Shinobi wanted that. “...but I doubt that, I’ve never relied on anyone, you know me,” Sebastian picked up again, “I’d rather have an ally I can cut ties with easily with need be, not someone so attached to me as a son. Grooming children as tools was always more Emma’s practice; I never had the patience for it, or the time. I suppose there is some kind of personal attachment--” Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck did he dare hope no he must be lying he must be “---to the notion of legacy. Krakoa or not, I’m not going to live forever, and I’d like what I’ve accomplished to pass into hands related to my own, as illogical and sentimental as nepotism is. But I refuse for them to be unworthy of it.” Shinobi’s hopes sunk back down their proper place. Of course. Of course that was it. His money, his business, his power base---those were what he cared about. that was his child, his real child, and he was just looking for someone with his DNA to care for it after his death. Well, you know what? “I’m going to be,” Shinobi said. And it wasn’t a promise. It was a threat. And his father knew that. And it made him smile. *** “DADDY’S GIRL” (Warning: Casual use of mind control/memory manipulation and no one treating it as bad.) It was a bad situation. The spies sent to Krakoa, spies who were mutants but still owed their allegiances to the American, had been caught. And caught by the Marauders, no less. Negotiations were underway for their safe return, but unfortunately, the Council member they were speaking to was Sebastian Shaw. And he was not in a forgiving mood. ”They’ve already been telepathically wiped, of course,” he said over the phone to the negotiator, “So it’s no matter to us if we give them back to you or not. But, why should we? They are Krakoan citizens. Even if they committed to that citizenship with false intentions, they still are OUR people, and they have committed treason. And you know what the traditional punishment for that is...” ”Please, Mr. Shaw, see reason!” the negotiator pleaded on the other end of the phone in the White House office. “They are American citizens as well, and employees of the American government! Any action against them will be seen as an act of hostility!” ”And sending them into our midst was NOT an act of hostility?” Shaw returned very calmly, but very dangerously. It was a tone that made the negotiator think very, very carefully about what his next words would be. And then he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see one of the Marauders, who were overseeing the negotiations going on. After the spies had been caught on Krakoa, they’d come IMMEDIATELY to make sure that no reinforcements would be sent. It just went to show how ruthless mutants were, that they would send CHILDREN on a team like that. In this case, a little girl, with pigtails and Wednesday Addams dress. She’d have been adorable, if not for her ghostly albinistic coloring and strange eyes. “Put me on!” she chirped, “He will listen to me, I’m his daughter!” The negotiator stared at her. Well, he was all out of ideas, so... “Okay, Mr. Shaw? Your daughter is here, she’d like to speak to you.” “My what?” “There’s a little girl here,” the negotiator explained, hoping the kid hadn’t just tricked him into losing several lives, “She says you’re her father.” There was a sigh from Shaw’s end, “Well, shes probably right. It’s hardly the time, but fine, put her on.” The negotiator passed the child the phone while her brother giggled in the background, and in Krakoan, she piped, “Hello Mr. Shaw! Manon to the rescue!” “Oh, it’s you,” he said flatly. “Who else did you think it would be?” “Well, when someone randomly claims to be my child, they usually ar---I mean, nevermind, what is it? This is important, you know.” ”I think you should let the spies go, Mr. Shaw.” ”You don’t understand what you’re talking about, and you’re in enough trouble for following the crew through the portal as it is. Put the man back on.” ”But Mr. Shaw, I have a plan!” The negotiator could not understand Krakoan, but he did understand tone, and he could hear the irritation in Shaw’s voice. He grabbed the phone away from her and apologized, ”I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw, she--” ”THAT’S MY PAPA!” Manon shrieked in English, and then yelled something in Krakoan, something Shaw could hear. ”Put MY DAUGHTER back on THIS INSTANT!” Shaw roared at the negotiator, who immediately complied. “Manon?” “I am running the show now, Mr. Shaw!” she said proudly. ”Excellent. Now, the first part of your idea is splendid. Here’s what I want you to do for the second...” They talked a little more, and it sounded much more pleasant to the negotiator, he even heard Mr. Shaw LAUGH, though there was something...devious...in the girl’s undertone he didn’t care for. When she said bye-bye and passed the phone back to him, she smiled...and so did he. Pocketing the phone, he turned back to the other two Marauders who were observing, Pyro and Shinobi. ”Well gentlemen, thank you so much for helping sort that out. I’ll take you to see who you need now.” Pyro and Shinobi looked at each other, and behind the negotiator’s back, Manon winked at them and put a finger to her white lips. ”Sure,” said Shinobi, unsure what was going on. ”Lead on, mate,” said Pyro, likewise baffled but playing along. The negotiator lead them to a room of other men, and after a few moments with Manon---in which she shook all their hands, with Maxime’s empathy POWERS overriding their natural suspicions at doing so--they all bid the Marauders farewell and told them to have a nice day and that it was so nice that Krakoan/American relationships were going so well. ”Alright,” said Pyro as they stepped out of the White House and headed for the nearest portal in DC, “What’d old Shaw make you do, you little witch?” ”Excusez-moi!” said Manon in mock-offense, “I made up half the idea! The first half at that!” ”Yeah but what WAS it?!” Shinobi urged. ”Well, I told Mr. Shaw, why don’t I just make the man on the phone FORGET that we captured the American spies, yes?” Manon explained, “And he said that was a SPLENDID idea, and he said that I should do it, and make him think that we were here about something else, and that he was supposed to take us to everyone else who knew the spies had been captured, and fix their memories too. And then when we get back, he will have me change the memories of the spies themselves, so they will go home with bad information!” ”Holy shit,” said Pyro. ”Damn,” said Shinobi, “Maybe you really ARE his kid!” The twins just giggled. *** “FLAMES” “Hey, Mr. Allerdyce? Can I bother you?” Pyro looked up from his laptop to see Alice in the doorway. “Sure, love. What’s troubling you?” he said automatically, then regretted that choice of words. If Alice had trouble he’d push her towards Haven or Maddie, they’d be much better choices for her to talk to. “I uh...I wanted some advice,” she said, stepping shyly in. Oh no. “About?” “Writing” His ears perked up and his eyes got wide, “Well why didn’t you say so! Come on and sit down love, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” Pyro sounded delighted, and he was. People seemed to forget that writing was his real passion, not being a super-criminal or a jerk who burned things. Those were fun but they weren’t his CALLING. Alice sat nervously, “You’re a professional so I thought you’d be best to ask. “Yeah, go ahead, anything,” Pyro urged her. He felt very important right now. “Can you help me not write a Mary Sue?” “...a what?” The wind went out of his sails suddenly. He had no idea what she was talking about. “You know. A Mary Sue.” “I uh, I don’t know, actually.” “A bad character.” “Ohhh.” Alright, this he could do. “Okay, well first thing is first, gotta be three dimensional, you know? People are people, even the evil patriarch in the gloomy mansion with designs on our gorgeous heroine’s fortune and her body! Second thing is give ‘em a distinct voice when they talk, the wandering wastrel with a heart of gold shouldn’t talk the same way as the well-brought up but dull and dunderheaded fiancee, and---” He went on, listing each of his tricks of the trade out on his long spindly fingers, then more. “That help?” he asked brightly when he had, for the moment, finished. Oh but he could talk about this all day! “I uh...can you tell me more about writing a good female lead? I know not to make her too overpowered, or too beautiful, and not to give her a tragic past or too many love interests or too many coincidences, but--” “WHAT?!” Pyro roared, nearly jumping out of his seat, “Who told you THAT?!” “The internet,” she said meekly, drawing back. “Well it’s wrong, dead wrong! Blimey, you just described half my most popular female leads! The hell kind of advice is that, don’t make her too beautiful or powerful or too many love interests?! Fuck that shit, love, if I’d followed that garbage I’d never have published a penny’s worth.” “So...do do it?” St. John, shrugged, “Do what you want, Alice. I write Gothic romance because I love it. Heaving bosoms, dramatic sighs, improbable coincidences, and tragic pasts for everybody! And I know my readers love it. They tell me so. Got panned hard by the critics and “real” writers but who doesn’t, eh? You can’t satisfy them but you can sure make someody’s day with a good harlequin. But between you and me, I wasn’t even writing for my readers anyway, even though I love ‘em.” “You were writing for you?” Alice was Internet-savvy enough to know the term Mary sue, so she also knew the adage about writing for yourself. But hearing it from a REAL writer gave it more weight. “Damn right! I give my readers what they want but only when it’s what I want. And I want trashy drama and beautiful heroines with six different walking six-packs fighting for her her hand in marriage!” “And...nobody hates you for it?” Well, like I said, critics weren’t too kind, and there’s some real stinkers of reviews on Goodreads and Amazon for a few. But you should see my fan letters! Not everyone’ll like what you make, love, it’s impossible. Even the “classics” has people who can’t stand ‘em---including me, for some.” “Do they....flame you?” “Flaming things is more my specialty. “ “No, I mean...lemme show you.” she said, and pulled out her phone. Later, had to explain to everyone WHY he had torched Alice’s cell into a molten plastic and metal lump and blamed ‘shitheads on the Internet’. *** “FIRST RESORT” It was not the greenery of Krakoa that they walked through today, but the border of Danum Valley in Sabah, Borneo, Malaysia. For most of human history, no one had settled in this part of the country, nor deforested its paradisaical and ancient rainforest, home to orangutans, clouded leopards, Sumatran rhinoceros, and, Haven’s personal favorite, the humble mouse-deer. To actually go into it would be foolhardy, not simply because of the creatures (indeed, really the least of one’s worries, wild animals tended to avoid people) but for the abundance of insects, dangerous plants, and the fact their clothes simply weren’t cut out for the amount of water, mud, and foliage they would encounter. The reason for the lack of proper hiking gear was that they had not come to Sabah to look at its jungles, lovely as they were, but because they had a mission. For most of the Marauders, it was the usual, bringing mutants home should they wish to come; in this case, mutants among the thousands of victims trafficked through this area alone. For Shaw specifically, well...there was a portion of eastern Sabah had long been an area for smuggling into and from Indonesia and the Southern Philippines. He’d been asked by the Council to bring its own unique goods to the black market there. And for Haven, well, there was figuring out what to do with the rest of the trafficking survivors; she wasn’t about to just leave them after the mutants in their number had been pulled from the herd. With all that accomplished, everyone was now, as usual, taking part in essentially vacationing before heading back. Pyro and Shinobi were hitting the bars in Kota Kinabalu, Madelyne was off fighting poachers of pygmy elephants, and Claudine...well, who knew where she slipped off to? No one usually asked. And Sebastian Shaw, waiting for evening when he’d take the boat over to Kuala Lumpur for some fun of his own, was passing the day or at least this particular hour walking on the outskirts of the verdant conservation area, not close enough to be engulfed by the trees but still with quite a bit more plant life in the way than he’d like. Particularly when concentrating on a conversation, even an asinine one. “So you do consent that violence is necessary at times,” he said, feeling he had finally gotten SOMETHING sensible out of her. “I do,” Haven said, who did not feel she had lost anything by admitting this; she had never denied it, “It’s the debate of when. My opinion is not that it must never be used---if someone is about to shoot a room full of people and there is no telepath to put them to sleep, for instance, then sadly a sniper shot may be the best option for the least loss of life---but that it is often jumped to far too quickly. It should be a last resort and not a first, or a second for that matter.” “I disagree in that but I most certainly agree in its necessity---and effectiveness,” he replied, though he knew she of course knew that, “So we do have some common ground then, however small.” “Why, Mr. Shaw, I didn’t realize you cared about that.” “Wipe that look off your face, woman. I didn’t concede to you in the slightest. If anything, the reverse.” “That’s not what I was smiling about, Mr. Shaw,” she said, still smiling and stopping to crouch down. She was adjusting a flower back into an upright position; some animal must had stepped on it. Perhaps one of her precious mouse-deer. “I meant I appreciate that you would appreciate we have some common ground, however small.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, “There would be no point speaking to you otherwise. There is barely any point as it is.” “But you do it,” she said, and began to dig her hands in the dirt, around the flower, so that she could scoop it out without plucking it, without ending its little life, “And, I apologize, I don’t like to make assumptions, but...I doubt you’re the kind of person who does anything he does not see a point in, Mr. Shaw.” She stood back out and held her cupped hands out to him, displaying the bloom, “It’s a Dendrobium lohokii, a type of orchid. Do you think we should bring this back to Krakoa? I don’t know what the policy is on invasive species, but I believe it could thrive there. The climate seems right.” Sebastian reached out and touched her hands with his own...and forcibly made her curl hers into a fist around the delicate Dendrobium, crushing it. “You are correct, Ms. Dastoor, in that I do little without a point. But you also grievously underestimate my boredom with this crew. Including yourself. You are to me as violence is to you---a last resort.” He released her hands and strode on, “And Krakoa has all the flowers it needs.” *** “HUMAN” “You know what the worst thing is, though?” said Madelyne, her black-gloved hand tracing the mouth of the glass. She still dressed like herself---her old self, her first self---when out of costume, but when acting as a Marauder (not as an X-Men, a Marauder) she did put on the ol’ pleathers again, the ones she’d worn WHEN WORKING WITH ARKEA. “I’m shocked you can choose,” said Haven, and there was no humor in her tone. Madelyne sometimes coped with a wry wit and devil-may-care (no punt intended) tone, but Haven only ever spoke of their mutual traumas with solemn gravity. “The worst part,” Madelyne inhaled, “The worst part is...I wanted it, Haven. Just in a dream, yeah, but still. And I’m not sorry that I wanted it. And when I got it...I enjoyed it. And I know I was possessed, I know it wasn’t me---I’m the only one who knows that, it seems, and even I don’t even care most of the time---but the part of me that was still awake? That nasty little greedy bitter part Sym talked to? She liked it. I liked it. I got my revenge, and I deserved it. And I can’t let go of that. I should feel SO guilty for that, it goes against everything I am, that I really am, but...I can’t. I don’t. And I...I don’t think I want to.” Madelyne knew that Haven could never understand. It was a contradiction, really---Haven was the only one here who could really understand what she’d been through, because of the uncannily similar circumstances, and yet at the same time, because of who Haven was, she also was the one person on the ship that Madelyne knew could never relate to this. She’d seen this woman beg for the lives of Purifiers. She’d seen her look with pity on child traffickers. Fuck, could you be so compassionate it was a sin in itself? Because Madelyne felt like it sometimes, watching this woman. Madelyne was harder. And she wasn’t sorry. She’d burned the world once. Now, she focused on just lighting up the parts that really deserved it. “I enjoyed it too.” Madelyne dropped her glass just as she picked it up, her green eyes wide. Had she heard that right? Was she going nuts all over again? “I admit it wasn’t vengeance I took pleasure in,” said Haven, her always-slow voice even more slow, not languid but laborious, every confessing word clearly an effort to let leave her throat, “But that might be only because, unlike you, no one had wronged me. Most of the time...most of the time, what I did tortured me. I slept little, and when I did, it was tortured. I couldn’t even bring myself to do my proverbial “dirty work” most of the time, I left it to my...to my cult.” She swallowed, and Madelyne waited for the other shoe to drop. “But...I was glad, too, part of me. Because I wanted a better world, and I believed, really believed, I was bringing it about in a for-sure way. It wasn’t just helping one person and hoping for the best that small effort would make a difference. It was knowing--deeply and profoundly---that I was bringing peace and salvation closer. I had the divine word on it. And Madelyne, for all my pain...I was proud.” Madelyne stared. And then she...laughed. “Oh gosh. Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Haven, I just...” “It’s alright. Sometimes we laugh because we just don’t know what else to do. But Madelyne---I don’t think you or I are so evil for being human.” “Human?” Madelyne’s tone turned incredulous, “There was nothing human about this!” “Wasn’t there? You were hurt, hurt by those you loved most. It’s the most naturally human reaction in the world to enjoy hurting someone back.” “You don’t. You can’t tell me that, Haven. I used to think you were so full of restraint because you never struck back---but I think it’s not restraint. It’s just how you are. You couldn’t hit Sebastian when he needed it, remember?” He’d needed a charge, and fast, for all their sakes. He’d been screaming in Haven’s face for her to pummel him. Madelyne couldn’t get close enough to do it herself, but she had been close enough to see---Haven couldn’t do it. She’d been sure Sebastian was going to hit her himself to get her to strike him, but Pyro had lit him up and given him sufficient energy from that (it had turned out later he had NOT realized Sebastian was fireproof) but if he hadn’t...Madelyne was fairly sure Haven still wouldn’t have been able to do it. Maddie...she hit back when hit. And attacked when attacked. And Haven was telling her she didn’t think that wasn’t wrong---but how could she claim that, given she never did it? “No, I couldn’t. Not every single human has every single “human” flaw. Myself, I...it’s like there’s something wrong with me, Madelyne. Like there’s some part of me missing that others have that makes them able to do violence, any violence, to feel true hate or anger. But what I do have is the also-very-human trait to want to be a martyr. I think on some level, I wanted to suffer for something greater than myself. I’m a religious woman. You know this. I think the Adversary appealed to that perverse pride, that spiritual smugness in my own suffering for a good cause that no one else understood. It hurt so much, Madelyne, I hated it so much--but I got to consider myself a persecuted savior. I got to have a cross of my own at last, after a life of trying to make up for my privilege.” Madelyne stared more. And started chuckling again, “You know what? I do get that. Because god, if I have one thing I can hang on to, to make myself feel better, it’s that I was wronged, I was persecuted, I was misunderstood...and there’s a kind of weird comfort, a pride in that, isn’t there? Being able to feel you’re not the bad guy, not really, it’s everyone else who’s wrong. I feel sorry for myself, because no one else will.” “Oh Madelyne,” Haven reached over and put her hand on hers, “I will.” “Don’t,” Maddie smirked, and pulled her hand away, “My self-pity’s embarrassing enough for me.” “There’s self-pity,” said Haven gently, “And then there is self-forgiveness.” “Hey, I forgive myself,” she said, crossing her arms and legs and leaning back in her chair, “It’s everyone else that hasn’t. And I don’t need them to. I had my revenge, whether it was on my terms or not. And I have to live with that---the regret, and the satisfaction both.” “You know I’m not a vengeful person, Madelyne,” said Haven, picking up her own cup at last, a tea cup as opposed to Madelyne’s shot glass. “You’ve just said as much yourself. But I do believe very much in one old adage---the best revenge is living well. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a very good job of that these days---and this time, it is on your own terms.”

#alt marauders #fic #writing

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eldunea · 5 years

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havin some thoughts for an HP AU discussed with @diamontha

mom honerva is the world’s most famous alchemist, dad zander is an auror. honerva originally lived in the united states and her claim to fame is discovering the fifth element in alchemy--but she had her discovery stolen from her by an american wizard. that guy then turned around and accused her of trying to steal his idea, and the general american public believed him. dumbledore, however, believed that honerva had been wronged, and offered her a job teaching alchemy as an elective at hogwarts where she would be respected. that’s how the family ended up in the UK.

as an indigenous person he’s damn good at wandless magic because FUCK THAT BULLSHIT JKR CAME UP WITH WHEN SHE SAID INDIGENOUS WANDLESS MAGIC WAS “LESS PRECISE.” she already stated that wandless magic was more powerful than wanded magic, but then all of a sudden when poc use wandless magic the wand version is better? THE FUCK? anyway yeah, his parents would have trained him in it since he was a little kid and when he finally got his wand he was like “tf is this european bullshit?”

speaking of his wand, it’s yew and dragon heartstring, 11.5″, flexible. his original wand was cherry and dragon heartstring, 11″, flexible.

as an indigenous jewish woman honerva’s plan living in the united states was that she wanted to homeschool lotor--she didn’t want him to go to ilvermorny because she went there herself and she was always haunted by the fact she wasn’t allowed to use or learn her peoples’ magic. zander, an okinawan at mahoutokoro, agreed that the japanese wizarding school was no better. his parents were really nervous about sending him to hogwarts but since honerva was now a professor there she could make sure her son got the education that he needed.

he’s an unregistered animagus--a fox--and he doesn’t plan on getting registered anytime soon. his patronus also happens to be a fox.

he has an enchanted tallit (some reform jews have tallit) that’s basically his conscience. there was a legend of a prayer shawl that came to life and stopped a man from sleeping with an escort so lotor’s would be just like that--it would try to stop him from doing all the questionable, sometimes petty shit that he likes to do.

he has kova at hogwarts with him.

he loves muggle science? so much? his mom wanted to be an astrophysicist on top of an alchemist and even tried going to muggle college for it but given her background and the time period she didn’t get far. she taught him all about science and he just has this childlike wonder for it. don’t take him to a muggle science fair, he’ll blow his cover blabbing about how much he wishes he had access to things like that.

he wants to be the first wizard in space. yes, really. when he saw a video of neil armstrong’s moon landing he broke down crying saying, “what’s the point of all this magic if it can’t take us to the great beyond?” that night when he lay in bed, he had an awakening and was like, well, it CAN take us to the great beyond, we just have to TRY! and that’s it, that’s how he formed his dream. god bless his soul

there’s nothing more he loves than muggle parents of wizard children/muggles married to wizards because they have knowledge of both science and magic just like him. when diantha first takes him home to meet her muggle parents he just? he just gets so excited?? he loses his shit in the best possible way like “oh my god, is that a real vacuum cleaner? can i see the inside of your TV? CAN YOU TEACH ME HOW TO GO TO SPACE” he’s like an excited puppy, losing his mind over all the muggle tech in their house. dia please keep your boyfriend under control

speaking of smartphones, he loves smartphones holy shit. the first time he held one it was like indiana jones holding the golden idol in raiders of the lost ark. he called it “magic in your pocket” and said as much to the confused muggle who first gave him their smartphone to look at. when he gets older he buys every single version of the iphone as soon as it comes out and has them all in a case on his fireplace.

he loves muggles so much despite being a pureblood……he’s fascinated with their world and sometimes wishes he could have a muggle parent or grandparent so that he would know more about them. unlike canon lotor who is biased against humans bc they don’t have (much) magic, HP lotor will fight anyone who says muggles are inferior to humans. he thinks it’s so incredible how much they’ve accomplished despite having no magic, and that if anything, they’re the ones who are better than wizards.

he’s also really against the whole “hiding magic from muggles” thing because 1) it’s a white thing; many POC cultures around the world openly tolerated magic before white colonizers forced their witches and wizards underground and 2) he’s firmly resolved that there’s nothing wizards can do that muggles won’t be able to figure out eventually. in the immortal words of the muggle author arthur c. clarke, magic is just science that they don’t understand yet.

for all his knowledge about muggle science though, he is comically bad at blending in with muggles. like……this level bad. he just--he just doesn’t understand them at all. poor boy. hopefully he’ll learn.

and some biographical notes in a more chronological order--

when he first went to hogwarts he was the spirited, somewhat mischievous kid on the train who wanted to get to know everybody, share his sweets and talk about all of the things he’d already read in the textbooks. everyone pegged him for a ravenclaw or maybe even a hufflepuff, but literally as soon as the sorting hat touched his head it screamed “SLYTHERIN,” shocking everyone who got to know him.

being in slytherin might have been the best match for his personality (intelligence mixed with ambition) but oh boy it was not a fun time. fun fact i hc “mudblood” is referred to mixed race people as well as half-muggles and muggleborns so he was definitely called that a lot. being the only indigenous, the only jewish and one of the few POC in the house was also really difficult--he felt isolated and alone a lot of the time because even among the people who fervently defended him he felt like they didn’t understand him.

at some point (haven’t decided what) he went back to the united states to visit some relatives and was caught up in an attack on a synagogue.

he was shot in his right arm (not his wand arm), so he drew his wand and killed the gunman using the killing curse--in front of a room full of muggles. he managed to get himself to an american wizarding hospital, but was dragged out of his hospital bed by american police while still recovering from the gunshot wound and extradited to the UK, where he was immediately flung into azkaban.

though he had acted in self-defense during a hate crime, he was expelled from hogwarts and given a life sentence; he was told he was lucky that he didn’t get the dementor’s kiss. he managed to escape during one of the numerous mass azkaban breakouts that subsequently happened canonically, and was in hiding before being one of the slytherins who participated on the side of good in the battle of hogwarts.

i think i read somewhere that canonically, all students who participated in the battle of hogwarts were pardoned for any crimes committed in the past but i can’t find that source. but what i can find is that lucius malfoy was 100% pardoned for defecting from the death eaters to protect his family so like……if an old white fantasy fascist can get pardoned for all of his murders by defecting last minute to the right side, a teenage brown jew can also be pardoned for killing to defend himself. fight me

he and diantha hated each other at first--he thought she was stupid and she thought he was a total prick. but before the battle of hogwarts the two of them made up and she kissed him, knowing it might be her last chance to do so before either one or both of them were killed.

originally he wanted to be an auror like his dad, because all he wanted was to go beat up bad guys. but after the trauma of the war against voldemort he decided it would be better for him to not fight people or put himself in traumatic situations anymore, and wanted to focus on being the first wizard who went to space. though most wizards thought he was crazy, slytherins are amazing with the art of persuasion--he managed to talk a good number of people into getting behind his project, which is now pretty much crowdfunded.

oh, and one more note about honerva: she finally managed to achieve her dream of being an astrophysicist, so now she’s well-known in both the wizarding and muggle communities as a prominent scientist and she is 100% behind lotor’s project to put wizards in space. happy endings for everyone.

#alma te anul; the history of self. || HEADCANON #headcanon. || HARRY POTTER AU #diamontha

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

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Four Words, One Reply (Colt x MC)

A/N: I haven’t written anything recently because my muse was GONE after prom on Friday. Muse said that she needed a break because she got everything she wanted. Back now, for better or worse. Here’s a bit of fluff, a bit of wish fulfillment for me and PLEASE let this offering of fluff atone for the angst I posted earlier.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 1556 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, probably, because I swear a lot.)

Summary: Ellie graduates from Langston.

Tags: @deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @powdesiree1986

Ellie dreaded the day that the letters stopped coming. The worst of it was the terror, deep in her soul, that she would never know. Would he stop writing when he fell out of love? When he was sentenced to jail? Worse?

Her roommate thought it was romantic. "No one writes letters anymore, Ellie. It's sweet." Little did she know that it was likely a necessity, a way to avoid being tracked. Electronic communication could be dangerous and she was certain she didn't even have Colt’s current phone number. All she had were the letters.

They came unexpectedly, with no rhythm. Some months, she would get a letter a week, with varying return addresses, some with stamped return envelopes, to varying cities, so she could write back if she wanted. She always did.

Some months, there were no letters. The worst was four months, spanning the summer and start of fall semester of junior year. Ellie was in a panic, barely able to sleep until, finally, a thin envelope in her mailbox, no details, no explanation, only an "I love you, Ellie." She cried, sobs in the middle of the campus center, oblivious to the stares around her.

Sometimes they came with money, always cash. Never a ton, but enough to make her worried about what he was doing. Always earmarked for something, $400 for new school books, $100 for her "first legal drink at Flanagan's and a cab back home." At first, she sent it back; she didn't want his money (she wanted him) and felt bad taking it. He would return it to her, quickly, with a gentle admonishment that it was his way of feeling connected, a way of being there with her in spirit. She took it more often than not now but, when the nights were long and the nightmares were strong and the terror wouldn’t subside, she would send his money back, knowing it was the fastest way to get letter in return, to know that he was still ok. And, though it made her uneasy, she did let him buy her first legal drink.

She knew, with their last conversation in LA, that she was signing herself up for a bit of loneliness. He told her that he needed time, he couldn’t be in LA, he needed to get away. She understood, she got it. She knew the memories this place had for him. She asked him to come with her; wasn’t Boston far enough away? She still remembered his sad eyes, the last kiss. He told her he would wait for her, but he didn’t expect anything, said he didn’t know when he would see her next, but he would, one day. She didn’t know if he was trying to outrun his grief or hide from it, but she prayed he succeeded.

And now this, a month before her graduation, a cryptic note, barely a letter, on the back of a photograph. She could recognize the image, the Bean (he was in Chicago?) and pored over the picture, looking for a hint of him. She couldn't find Colt, no smirk, no leather jacket but, in the corner of the reflecting mirror, warped in the curve of the monument, she finally spied what he wanted her to see. A sleek bright pink European import, looking amazingly like her car back in LA. And on the back, four words and a return envelope, addressed to PO Box in Pittsburgh. She read those words, over and over and over again, in class, in bed, memorizing Colt’s scrawl as if it would bring him back to her, in the flesh. Finally, three days later, she printed a picture of herself, a selfie in front of the magnolias blooming by the library, her fiercest look on her face, graduation cap in her hand. She wrote one word, on the back, and sent it, kissing the envelope as if it would make it travel faster.

In the meantime, she finished classes, hung out with friends, and went on with her life, trying to live enough for both of them.

~~~~~

It was ungodly hot for Boston in May and Detective Wheeler shifted in the shitty folding chairs the university had rented for graduation. He was nothing but grateful to be here and so happy for his ambitious daughter, graduating Summa Cum Laude from her dream school. He was just so proud and had told her as much at breakfast this morning, with her and her roommate and some friends, all celebrating their achievements and simultaneously scared of what was ahead. He was just ecstatic that they all made it this far, intact and whole, willing to take nothing for granted.

He remembered being terrified, after the months senior year when she was lost to him, terrified she was gone, terrified he had failed her, his wife, himself. He still remembered the relief when he opened the door that morning and she was there, two kids in tow, asking for help from a horror they never should have been involved in. Who would have thought the crew he was supposed to be hunting was more Lost Boys than Mafia? And who would have thought they would have been influential in bringing down an actual, organized crime unit in the LAPD?

After, his prodigal daughter had returned, and then gone to school, and things had generally returned to normal. She studied hard, came back for breaks, and confided in him, every detail of college. The all-night studying sessions, the boys who seemingly had their eye on her, even a few snippets about the parties she attended. There was only one thing she didn’t share with him, one thing too personal, too close for her to divulge to her old man. He saw the letters, sometimes, and ached to read them, but he trusted her. Giving her this space was important to him, a way of redeeming himself for watching too closely for years. She had earned her freedom.

And that freedom brought him here, to graduation, from one of the best universities on the East Coast, sitting in the heat and fiddling with a program. Riya would have come but her graduation was the same day so he was here, alone, bringing best wishes from LA.

Well, almost alone. A shadow fell over him, a soft clearing of a throat and, when he looked up, he dropped the leaflet, turning back to watch it sway to the ground.

“Is this seat taken?”

He stood, eye to eye with the boy, no, the man, next to him. He hadn’t seen him in four years and stared; his shoulders had broadened, visible in the short-sleeved dress shirt, eyes still intense, jawline and cheekbones seemingly sharper with age. The last time he had seen Colt Kaneko, he was broken, mourning a father he barely knew and a life he never would live. Now, he seemed more at ease, as if time didn’t erase all wounds, but made them easier to deal with. He still looked like he would never truly relax but that he was, for now, at peace.

Colt extended his hand and he shook it, then gestured to the chair. “Sit down.” He picked up the brochure, watching Colt settle in, putting a bouquet of flowers under his chair. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

A small smile. “Yeah, Ellie doesn’t know either. I don’t know if she’s going to hit me or hug me.”

Wheeler grinned; he knew his daughter better than that. “My money’s on neither.”

~~~~~~

Ellie couldn’t stop laughing and smiling and celebrating. She felt alive. After the ceremony, she desperately ripped off her gown, sweltering in the heat. She couldn’t stop handing out hugs, to professors, friends, her roommate. The crowd was crushing, families and loved ones, all fighting to get to the graduates; she couldn’t find her dad. She knew he was here, somewhere, but the mass of people made it hard to see six feet in front of her.

Finally, it was like the crowds parted and there he was. She dashed, sprinting towards him, laughing and wrapping him up in a hug. They were flying back to LA in a few days, once things calmed down and she was packed, but she wanted to see him now, in the midst of one of the biggest celebrations of her life. She pulled back, looking at the joy in his face and laughed.

“Love you dad!”

He kissed her cheek. “Congratulations. I am so proud of you.”

She went to smile at him again when she saw something, someone, over his shoulder and froze with a gasp. He dad smiled and stepped aside and there, alive and whole and in the flesh, Colt stood, clutching a bouquet and looking painfully out of place. She stared at him, time stopping, the crowd a dull roar around her as they stared at each other.

She took a step, then another, and was soon running, leaping into his arms, her lips finding his, the flowers falling as he clung to her, desperately. It was all she could do to hold on as he kissed her like he was drowning, four years of missing each other communicated through touch.

Finally, he pulled back, stars in his eyes as he looked at her. “I love you, Ellie.”

“Always.”

#playchoices fanfic #choices rod #colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt rod #amy writes

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ohscorbus · 5 years

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Thursday 23rd May, 2019 [Pt. 2]

Aaaand here we are again! To say I was excited for this part two would be an understatement. I was bouncing off the walls and honestly? They did not disappoint. This was another great show from what’s already an excellent cast. If you’re not excited yet, you will be.

ACT THREE, SCENE THREE: DRACO’S OFFICE

Jonathan got so angry in this scene and it just took it to another level. I want Scorpius to be that angry. To fight it. To fight for him. His dad isn’t this person and I need him to reject it. it’s so important for both this version of Draco and for Scorpius to process about his dad in general. Plus it’s wildly fascinating to see Scorpius be so smiley and awkward and fail so completely at being the Scorpion King in the previous scenes, just for him to then lose himself in these life long fears and let his emotions take over him in this one. The way he reacts without thinking and attacks is more in line with the Scorpion King. (Presumably.) Yet he was only able to ‘achieve’ it when he wasn’t trying. It makes you wonder how much of the Scorpion King is actually inside of him... (Obviously not a lot, or at all. But it makes for an interesting discussion.)

ACT THREE, SCENE NINE: AU DEMENTORS

My heart broke for Michelle who didn’t manage to get herself hooked onto her dementor and had to walk off stage instead. It’s only happened two or three times (as far as I’m aware) so for it to happen to her on her opening night was just awful. I really hope she doesn’t let it get the better of her. After all, she wasn’t the first and she won’t be the last. These things just happen, you know?

I’m only mentioning it now because I thought people might want to know what happens in this situation:

Basically, two people in black cloaks with hoods up come on. One is stood in front and holding the cloak out to block your view as they wave it in what presumably is meant to be in a dementor-y kind of way, while the other focuses on hiding Hermione (or Ron) as they walk off the stage. It does the job but I do wish their cloaks had been modified dementor costumes instead! At least that way it still looks like they’ve been taken by dementors rather than it being an obvious failure.

I’m still being blown away by Jonathan and I could not be happier. His Scorpius is still the same, but the subtle changes from just having that different energy on stage really brought out his A game. I particularly loved his interaction with the dementors in this scene. It could just be because I was sitting closer than usual so I could actually hear the wispy gasps he was making as he struggled to catch his breath, but that combined with how he made his body loose and slow and floaty as the dementor attacked was just incredible. (Although maybe I’m just biased because you know the dementors are my favourite. These scenes are important to me.)

ACT THREE, SCENE ELEVEN: SLYTHERIN DORM

“I know. Okay.” - I loved the anger from Albus in this line. I can’t even begin to describe to you what he does with his face when his anger peaks like this. But it’s concentrated and scary. He’s furious. It’s brilliant.

Albus never moved from the spot he was in, round the other side of the bed to Harry. It meant it was always between them. Fitting really, given how they once again fail to overcome the barriers that separate them.

ACT THREE, SCENE TWELVE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW DREAM SCENE

I absolutely adore what Kathryn did with Petunia this scene. The pauses and emotion in her voice as she recalled Lily (“she tried - bless her - it wasn’t her fault) came as a surprise but was also completely welcomed. It reminded me of that deleted scene from the movies. The one where she’s talking to Harry in the living room and she says he didn’t just lose a mother that night, she lost a sister too. It was beautifully done. Plus getting to see this glimpse of that side of her, a part she’s clearly kept hidden for years, was wonderful. It really made me sit up and take notice because I expected to get nothing but a reminder of how awful she is in scenes like this. To suddenly be hit with the realisation there’s more to her than ‘villain’, that there’s human and heart in there somewhere, was vastly more compelling to watch.

ACT THREE, SCENE TWENTY: THE MAZE

“Your dad loves you, very much” - The second time he said this, it felt rushed and he sort of let it drift off towards the end. It was obvious he felt awkward even having the thought, let alone saying it out loud to Cedric. I like that because it says something about him since he did still say it. It wasn’t the heartfelt message we’ve seen from Albus’s before, but it still shows his heart and this Albus’s awkwardness.

ACT THREE, SCENE FOURTEEN: SLYTHERIN DORM

Albus held his hands up and did a ‘I could strangle you’ kind of gesture at Scorpius, who was paying zero attention, and it was very them.

“You may not have been there, Albus, but you were fighting - fighting alongside me.” - Albus looked so happy and moved by this statement. I swear he said something or went to? I can’t remember for sure. But he definitely reacts to this confession more than any other Albus I can recall and I’m super happy about that. He liked the idea he was there with Scorpius and fighting together. It was sweet.

ACT THREE, SCENE SIXTEEN: OWLERY

We’ve finally got the ‘let’s make history’ line, wooo! I love that this Albus gets it too. It really suits him. If any of them would deliberately set out to make such a bold change in the world, it’s this one. Dominic delivers it with such energy too. It’s perfect.

ACT FOUR, SCENE THREE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW

Albus, of course, immediately runs off after Lily and James as they exit the stage. He isn’t thinking, he’s feeling and following his heart. (I really do love this scene.) Scorpius is quick to run after him and he grabbed his wrist and pulled him back and didn’t let go until he’d stopped and wasn’t a flight risk anymore. I liked that because, after all their awkwardness about touching, he didn’t hesitate in moments when it mattered.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIVE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW PLANS

“Still, if I had to choose a companion to be at the return of eternal darkness with, I’d choose you” - As soon as Scorpius started this line, Albus immediately began to look a little bit uncomfortable. It was like he suspected what was about to be said, or he at least thought he did, and was nervous about it for some reason. There are so many ways to read into that and I love it for that reason. But for me, it related back to his reaction in Hogwarts through the trees. When Scorpius said he wanted someone like Harry Potter to get up to mayhem with, Albus looked sad. Like he almost expected a comment like that. So it makes sense for him to expect Scorpius to want Harry Potter, the saviour and everyone’s hero, in this moment too. But once again Scorpius surprises him (and only him) and tells him he’d choose him. Again. Always. Basically, it was really sweet and it was also interesting to see this Albus doubt himself with Scorpius again despite already having numerous reassurances.

“We just need to work out where to find some… Demiguises.” - His pause, which is actually in the script and I had completely forgotten about, was adorable (and relatable) because it was like he wasn’t sure how to pronounce the word. Bless.

ACT FOUR, SCENE SIX: ALBUS’S ROOM

“We’re starting with Dad” - The stage direction says his firm here and this Albus absolutely is. His tone and the look he gave Scorpius left him with no doubt that this was no longer up for discussion. They were starting with ‘dad’.

ACT FOUR, SCENE EIGHT: GODRIC’S HOLLOW HUGS

Even with a new Potter around I still could not take my eyes off the Malfoys. I think the audience were in agreement as the awwws that filled the theatre warmed my heart. My favourite part though? After they had hugged, Draco cupped Scorpius’s cheek and gave him this look full of love. I couldn’t see Jonathan’s face today but they did this on Sunday too and you’ll be happy to know Scorpius gave him the same look back. Now doesn’t that just melt you?

ACT FOUR, SCENE TEN: ST. JEROME’S

“Draco, trust my dad. He won’t let us down.” - It was really interesting to have an Albus move to stand directly in front of Harry and not Draco for this line. It felt less like a confrontation with Draco and more like him standing up for his dad. That says so much about Albus. One, that he’s probably smart enough not to piss off his best friend’s dad and risk them being separated again. And two, it’s like he’s giving something back to his dad in return for Harry’s ‘there’s plenty you’re good at’ line. Neither of them are there yet but they’re reaching out to each other and working together at this point. It’s nice. As was Harry’s face when he looked from the back of Albus’s head and over to Ginny and back again as Albus spoke. You could see how moved he was by Albus’s words and actions. That really meant a lot. It was lovely to see Harry have this silent conversation with Ginny about it too. It mirrored their silent conversation back in act one over the map table. That was about Albus too. But this time it was finally about something positive.

ACT FOUR, SCENE ELEVEN: ST. JEROME’S

“I really liked her, mum” - I was either too overwhelmed with all the new things to really pick up on it or maybe Dominic emphasised it more in part two, but I really picked up on more of his Albus’s mannerisms this time around. Like here, when he’s sat on the bench with his mum, Albus is sat with his shoulders a little hunched and one of his feet is on top of the other. He looked a little smaller and a tiny bit uncomfortable and a lot awkward. I think he was doing something with his hands too...

You know what? Let me just drop some random observations on you that I’ve made about his Albus so far: occasionally hunches his shoulders, will sometimes play with his hands and fingers just like Scorpius - they’re the definition of awkwardness when they’re both doing it together, he rocks back and forth from one foot to the other all the time - it makes him appear nervous and full of energy and I love it, and he never hesitates to raise his voice and won’t hold in his anger. As for the closest interpretation from our previous ones? Sam Clemmett, but Dominic is less restrained and happier.

I said my goodbyes to the unscripted Albus and Scorpius hug in this scene on cast three’s last show. Little did I know Jonathan and Dominic would still bless us with something. While it isn’t a full blown hug, the fact that they still run to each other and physically reach out and make contact as soon as the duel is over is the most important bit and it still happens. I also loved the fact Scorpius didn’t want to let go or stop looking at him and didn’t do so until Ginny had made her way over to them. He then seemed to accept he’d be safe and that his mum might need that reassurance he’s okay too.

Albus tightened his grip on his wand as soon as Delphi said ‘then kill me’. He didn’t raise his arm so his wand was still down by his side, but the fact that he held onto it so tightly at those particular words was interesting and it explained his next reaction. So when Harry says he won’t, Albus immediately bolted forward. Harry had to hold him and used enough force that he made Albus’s clothes all bunch up around his shoulder and neck from where he had to be pushed back. I’m pretty sure even Ginny stepped in and helped contain him. I really hope this stays because I want to see it over and over again. That pure determination and anger. The fact that it took fully grown adults to hold him back. Also! The two Malfoys as they watched Albus in this moment was something else. They were both clearly a little shocked, but Draco in particular seemed to be looking at Albus like he hadn't seen him before. It’s wildly fascinating. Plus the whole thing reminded me of Sirius Black’s death in the movies. How Harry is restrained and then let loose but is still unable to kill Bellatrix even though he’s so incredibly angry and has the chance. It gave me a whole new understanding of Harry’s later line: ‘you’d watched her murder Craig, you were angry, Albus, and that’s okay. And you wouldn’t have done it”. Because Harry isn’t just speaking as a reassuring parent here, he’s speaking from experience. That’s how he should be using his past to help his son.

ACT FOUR, SCENE TWELVE: DEATH SCENE

Albus reached out and held onto Harry’s arm with both his hands as the Potters were killed. Then once Lily had been murdered and Harry fell to the ground with a cry, he reached down and held onto Harry’s wand with him. It read as support in so many ways, and so differently to how Joe’s Albus handled the wand. Joe would take it from Harry’s hand completely and replace it with his hand while holding the wand in his other. To me that read as confirmation that love was stronger than magic. Because that’s what Harry, in every timeline, always needs in that moment. Love. No spell can fix or save this. But now you have Dominic’s Albus who appears to help Harry keep hold of his wand. Yet that to me still represents love as I see this as them finally coming together. Getting through this moment, through his history, together. It’s the end and the start for both of them.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FOURTEEN: HOGWARTS STAIRCASE

I honestly don’t know how to describe their last hug. I’ve overused the word awkward but there really isn’t any other word to describe it. It was just all hands. They didn’t seem to know where or how to touch each other. It ended up looking like they were both doing the big fish, little fish, cardboard box dance around each other. Yet miraculously, this strange air patting thing they were doing somehow seemed to work for them. No one is surprised...

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIFTEEN: GRAVEYARD

I was feeling a lot of things during this scene so very few mental notes were taken. But I do remember how Albus looked a little bit horrified as he looked down at all the gravestones. He didn’t seem to be particularly happy or comfortable being there. Understandable. But that didn’t stop him from walking over to Cedric’s grave when Harry started talking about him. It was like he didn’t have as much to fear if he had his dad with him. It was a really nice way to end this journey. That, and their hug. Although I was terrified for a second that they had cut it because the lights started to dim before they had even started. It was such a shame how little we got to see it before it was too dark!

Other little changes and notes:

The light in the Time-Turner was a different colour! There was the normal yellowish orangey light, and now it’s also blue sometimes. I can’t recall exactly which colour it was for each scene but I’m sure there’s a reason as to why it changes and when. It’s probably something to do with when and where they’re using it in time but until I’ve seen it again I won’t know for sure.

You know when Ginny removes the light bulb from the wall in Delphi’s room? Well now there’s a pulsing, glowing blue light inside and it emits thick smoke. I actually really liked this. It gave the illusion there was something more beyond that wall. Something sinister.

I also just have to mention all the eyeliner. So Snape now has this really obvious (and questionable) smokey eyed thing going on, Delphi is wearing so much of it she gives me Megan from Puffs vibes (particularly pre-reveal), and even Bane seems to have been given a makeover.

And there we have it! If it isn’t already abundantly clear, I love this cast. Their new interpretations are fresh and it’s making the returning cast members step up and everything has slotted into place wonderfully. I said this yesterday and I mean it even more so today: this next year is definitely going to be a good one.

[Again, there’s so much I’ve missed out but I’ve run out of time and memory. I am seeing the show again on Saturday 25th though so hopefully I’ll pick up on the things I’ve missed then. Please feel free to leave any specific requests for scenes in my inbox. I can’t promise to answer them all but I can try!)

#harry potter and the cursed child #TCCleanne #long post #mypost #it's now 2.30am so the fact you're getting words at all is a miracle so please excuse any and all typos #I promise I can actually write like the educated adult that I am! :')

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i-am-parsec · 6 years

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Page 4

Henrik has gone from ignoring me for weeks to monitoring my every move 24/7. Stacy goes around the house making jokes about the benefits of having an live-in doctor since she may go into labour any minute now but I can't tell she's just as worried as me about the Doc. Worried because he's not explaining himself. Worried because he won't tell what's in the goddamn book. Worried because of his reaction when she "dared" to use Google to translate the first page. Henrik claims it's ancient German, too hard for him to understand, "after all, Chase, I only lived in Berlin for a few years as a kid, I barely speak modern German!, but you can't bullshit the bullshiter, Schneeplestein.

He's scared, and while I keep telling myself I don't what of, I think it's time to face up to the facts. It's time to call mom and ask what the fuck happened the night Charles broke his arm and I met my wife.

***

I have two uncles. Both of them in prison. One of them for murder, the other for rape and murder. I had no idea they were in prison or that they existed at all. My mother told me as that trying to contact them was pointless, she swore to my father I would never meet them. Apparently delivering that fucking book wasn't his only deathbed wish, knowing him, the fucker probably made a list. I want to be mad at him, I really do, but I can't, right now I can't feel anything. There's so much going on inside my head and at the same time, it's blank. It reminds me of our time working in Arizona, the attempted robbery - when Stacy shot at that guy with the gun so close to my head, I felt the whole world going completely mute while simultaneously exploding. The ringing right after, that's how I feel now. Silenced terror.

I go back to how mom greeted me and it makes me want to scream.

"I'm glad you called, dear. You have no time to waste; now, listen carefully and everything will be alright, you are the one who's gonna get it right, son."

Reassuring words as she holds me in the monster's den. Nothing but lies, that's all this family is. She asked me to record the conversation. I should have hung up right then and there

Triplets. Dad was born first, then Lucas, then Matthew. The three of them seemed like healthy, happy boys despite their father's distant behavior. If what my mother says it's true, that grandfather I never got to meet only held his children once for a picture after they were born and never again touched them, not a hug, not a caress, not even pat on the back. Their mother tried really hard to make up for their father's lack of affectionate gestures, in other words, she spoiled them. That alone could explained my father's addictions and his brothers' criminal tendencies but mom insists there's more. She insists there is a curse.

I am going insane, aren't I? A sane person would suggest their mother to get herself checked after listening to what I did, yet here I am writing it all down, going over the recording again and again, afraid I might miss some details. This is ridiculous...

A curse has followed the Brody men for at least 6 generations. Someone, somewhere made a pact and apparently screw all of us up; with who or what is up to debate but what my family has deduced over the years is that this entity preys on all of the males who descend from that poor fucker and that it feeds off our pain (either emotional or physical) while working its way into the brain of its victims. Once it achieves this, it starts controlling the victim's body until it completely destroys it and then proceeds to start the same process with the next generation, i.e. It drives you insane and, after killing you, it starts torturing your son.

I've always doubted my mother’s sanity but this certainly sounds like reason enough to lock her up in an asylum - although, given the fact that I might go crazy myself in a matter of months, maybe that's a not a good idea; last thing I need is to end up trapped in a mental institution with her. That could totally happen, I'm unlucky like that, as time has proven more than once.

From here on, I'll just write down her exact words, I'm done with trying to process all this crap, it's obviously not happening.

"Your father loved you and me more than anyone has ever loved anyone in this world. He made the biggest sacrifices so you and every other man with Brody blood on their veins could get an actual fighting chance, a shot at happiness. He went through Hell, and back for us, my love, and maybe you think ‘no, that's not right, he put us through Hell, he was the devil himself’, but that's just not true and you know it. Maybe that thing managed to slip away from your memory but it’s not an easy sight to forget, once you see it, it sticks with you forever, and you saw it, son, many times. Every time your father pinned you down on the floor, every time he burned your skin with a cigarette, every time he threaten you or me to kill us, there it was, relishing in our fear. You have to understand, Chase, that while all of us could see it, no one knew how to stop it, no one was brave enough to find out, except your father and his brothers. He wasn't the horrible man everyone saw from the outside, he was and will always be the tender boy I fell in love with so many years ago.

He didn't know what was going to happen to him as he grew older, his father never warned him - you see, that was your grandfather’s strategy. This thing needs the victims to love and be loved, to have hope and dreams, it needs them to be happy, so he can rip their happiness apart. Your grandfather learned this from the old book I sent you and he concluded that if he stayed away from his sons and never allowed himself to love anyone, he would be safe, he could starve the demon and maybe even destroy it. But there's no escape from love, no matter how bad it hurts. He suffered just as much as your dad did, but got nothing out of it. When your dad and uncles found out about this curse of sorts, they realized there was no point in trying to fight it, so they didn't. They let it consume them completely, so they could learned as much as possible from it, what it was, how it behaved and especially, how to kill it.

I knew your uncles. They were good men, and they loved your father very much. By the time your grandfather died and the truth came out, Matthew was engaged, Lucas was a successful singer (you won't find his songs on the internet but trust me, he was gifted, just like you, dear) and your father, well, he and I had just moved in together and I was pregnant with you. It is truly a shame you never got to meet Matt and Luke because they would have been the most wonderful uncles any kid could ever have. In a way, they are. They decided your dad was the one who had the most to lose, so they sacrificed themselves, hoping it would prevent the monster from attacking him too. That's how they ended up in jail. They were the kindest people I had the honor to meet, they would have never hurt anyone, but they thought if they became the evil puppets this thing wanted them to be, it would leave your father and his new family alone. They loved you a lot, Chase, if your father made me promise you will never to see them, it's because they are no longer the lovely men they once were. This thing consumed them. You must remember them as the smiling kids in the pictures I'm sending you. You should be getting them soon. That's who you uncles are, not the emotionless shells who are in prison now.

Just like them, your father was not the beast you sadly had to grow up with, he was kind and creative and he would have let this thing eat him up alive if it meant finding a way out for you, son, and I think he did. The book is mostly notes from your great grandfather, the first one to "investigate" this thing, but on the back there are your father's own findings. Read them, dear, prepare yourself but most importantly, don't make your elders' mistakes. Don't try to ignore it or hide it, this is a fight you can't avoid or win alone. I'm glad you married the Walter girl, she always seemed so strong and determined, I know that if you tell her the truth, like your father did with me, she will stick with you.

I'm sorry it took me so long to tell why we could never leave, my love, I really am. I hope, one day, you can forgive us all.”

I want to tell my mother to fuck off, to stop making shit up and accept the fact she married an abusive drunk worthless piece of shit who happens to be brother of two equally fucked up pieces of shit and that maybe now that he's dead she can finally get some professional help to deal with it, but I can't. I want to put this pen down and go to bed and hold my beautiful wife, tell her everything is alright, but I can't. I want to call Henrik and tell my friend there's no need to lie because whatever is written is that book is nothing but some drug-induced crap my great-grandfather wrote many years ago, but I can't.

Because I know it's not true. Because I remember my father's true voice. Because I can see the void in the window's reflection, hovering over my shoulder, reading these rushed words. Taller than a human, wider than my desk, I can feel its freezing breath against my back. I don't want to turn around. I don't want to stare at it and listen to its heinous scream. I don't want to tell the truth. I don't want to admit my father was a good man controlled by a fucking demon because then that means my monster is not gone and I'm still not free.

It means my monster is standing right here with me and this time there's no one to hold it behind a shut door. This time, I have a son on the way, and it's my turn to hold it shut.

4 pages left. Page 3 // Page 5

❤️Tag list❤️: @amyxmiaplay @awkward-bullshit @beck-pma @closedworldofmathiel @darktrash-drash @fanfictionrecommendations-com @flyingfishflopsthings @fruitycasket @happysingingturtles @hiimizzyxoxo @hishex @kitnkas @mcomegalletas @mijako98 @mjjau @mysterious-cupcake-ninja @mysticalanimallover @novasingalaxies @plutoandpolaris @probablyghosting @randomartdudette @saltyweirdbi @sassy-in-glasses @scarlet--raven @septicuniverse @skyewardlight @thevampireauthoress @youllnevertaketheskyfromme

#Unaddressed Letters #Chase Brody #His letters

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im-genie-for-your-wish · 6 years

Text

“That’s my dragon.” [D.O.] (10/12)

Group: EXO Member: D.O Word Count: 2027 (chapter) / 13156 (total) Summary: Do Kyungsoo, stereotypical brooding genius who doesn't really play any role in your life... Until Dame Boah declares the two of you must take care of an dragon egg together to see who gets the chance to become a full-fledged Dragon Rider. With the stakes raised sky high, you struggle with your newfound archnemesis and your tumultuous relationship with him, learning a little (a lot?) about yourself along the way. Tags: Enemies to lovers

The thought lingered in the back of your brain, an insidious intrusion that popped up during the most inopportune of times. Like now. Your gaze strayed back to Kyungsoo as you cooed over the egg. He raised an eyebrow. After reconciling, the two of you had spent almost every waking moment of the day together. Not because you were that clingy but because the egg exhibited telltale hatching signs. It vibrated at regular intervals, and the shell measured even thinner.

Kyungsoo closed his book. “What is it? You have the same expression that I saw last time when you thought that our egg needed some fresh air.”

“Hey,” you snapped, “how was I supposed to know that there was a group of territorial hawks in the East Tower?”

Kyungsoo gave you a look, and you deflated. “Sorry, I’ve just been thinking.”

“Shocking,” he drawled.

You glared at him. Some things never changed, no matter how many times you offered someone your rice. “I’ve been thinking,” you continued, “about what your dad said a while ago.”

Kyungsoo sat his book on the ground, turning his full attention toward you. He pursed his lips. At first, you thought he’d laugh off the question, but then he gave you a short nod. You waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

Seems like you would just have to tackle the issue head on. “What did he mean when he talked about holding up your end of the bargain? It’s almost been a month, so…” Kyungsoo’s stricken expression sent you scrambling. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I mean, yeah, forget about it. You know how my mind wanders. The other day I was thinking about dragon ecology and how dragon excrement can be used to fertilize—”

“Please stop.” Kyungsoo held up one hand and pinched his nose with the other. “I don’t wanna know about it.”

A period of awkward silence followed, and you stared down at the egg, stroking it in short repetitive motions. Had you offended him? You reached out with one hand and patted Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

He laughed. “It’s nothing,” he said, but when you looked up and saw his distant expression, your throat constricted. He gave you a small smile and moved your hand from his shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he put it back on the egg. “Don’t worry about it.”

But that didn’t stop your train of thought. In fact, it accelerated its path, and you found yourself seeking answers.

Chanyeol shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze. “You should really ask Kyungsoo about this.”

Maybe cornering him in the stables hadn’t been the best option. You cradled your head in your hands. “I have asked him, but he always avoids the question. I know it’s underhanded to go behind his back, but I can’t shake off the feeling that this is really important. And”—you broke off your intense staring at this point, studying the patterns in the floor tiles instead—“I’m worried about him. I want to help him if I can.” Your last sentences came out in a rush, syllables slurring together, but Chanyeol seemed to understand.

“I just don’t…” He bit his lip. “I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Shouldn’t but?” you coaxed, sensing his hesitation and pouncing. You could hammer at this chink in his armor until it broke.

Chanyeol, however, stood tall and immovable. He crossed his arms and frowned at you, all the while shaking his head. “If you want to know, you should ask Kyungsoo.”

That was the end of the conversation. You skulked back to the entrance of the stables and returned to mucking out the dirty straw bedding. Asking for an extra shift had not been worth it. Who in their right minds would volunteer to literally shovel shit? You apparently. The things you did for that man…

You paused to wipe the sweat beading on your forehead with the edge of your work apron and then froze. Behind you Chanyeol sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sir Do,” you stammered, executing a hasty bow. Suddenly aware of the stinky pitchfork grasped in your hands, you dropped it. It didn’t help your feeling of self-worth; Sir Do still looked at you as if you were a piece of dung he had accidentally stepped in.

Chanyeol came to stand beside you, a warm presence in the now chilly atmosphere. “Sir Do, Kyungsoo is—”

“I did not come to speak with Kyungsoo,” Sir Do said, and his eyes tracked your nervous movements as you wiped away some errant dirt and took off your apron.

You weren’t dumb. It was pretty obvious who he had come to speak to. “I’ll be right back,” you said to Chanyeol. The man didn’t look particularly happy with your decision, nose scrunched and lips turned down in a frown, but he didn’t stop you as you walked out of the stables.

Sir Do took the lead, and the two of you found a secluded corner in the nearby training field.

You spoke first. “I assume this is about the last conversation I overheard between you and Kyungsoo.”

“Perceptive,” remarked Sir Do, but he didn’t seem impressed. Instead he pressed his lips into a thin line and continued, “I won’t waste your time nor mine. I believe we got off on the wrong foot last time.”

“Like father like son,” you joked.

Sir Do didn’t even crack a smile. “You work hard, and I respect that work ethic. However, Kyungsoo is on a tight schedule. Failing to receive an egg after his first round of consideration was already in itself a disappointment, but I made an exception and gave him a second chance.”

You resisted the urge to snort; very few people made it after just one round of consideration from Dame Boah (not even Sir Do himself).

Sir Do’s expression softened as he continued. A semblance of a smile crossed his face. “I’m sure that you’ve all heard my story. I’ve heard that Dame Boah still uses it as a motivational tool.”

You nodded. While it was hard for you to reconcile the proper looking man in front of you with the scrappy youngster who had come from nothing, you knew the story. Everyone knew the story. Sir Do, born with nothing not even a family name, had come to the academy and taken it by storm. He created the Do name from nothing but his own sheer determination and the innate talent he had for dragon taming. Dame Boah used it as an example of not judging people based on background. (Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized that was exactly what you had done with Kyungsoo when you first met him.)

“I’ll speak the plain truth then. I just want my son to appreciate and fully utilize the opportunity he’s been given. Not all of us are so lucky to have such a background.” Sir Do frowned, no doubt recalling his own bitter struggle. “He has had so much more than me, so he should be better than me. As a parent, my one wish is for my son to live a better life than I did. That’s why I told him that if he can’t secure an egg in the second round of consideration, he should focus his efforts elsewhere. It was not my original intention to have him become a rider, but”—Sir Do shook his head with a fond smile—“he gets his stubbornness from me. There are other professions that offer more financial security, more respectability, and—”

You drowned out the rest of Sir Do’s speech, trying to pick out the most important pieces of information. First of all, despite his dour demeanor, Sir Do cared about this son. You could tell that he wanted his son to succeed. However, because of Sir Do’s background, he set his expectations for Kyungsoo sky high. Kyungsoo had been born with an advantage, so he should utilize it. Finally, if Kyungsoo did not receive an egg in this round, he would…

“Leave the academy.”

Sir Do paused and then looked at you.

“You’re saying he would leave the academy, give up on being a rider,” you clarified. “This is his last chance.”

It was funny how words could send your stomach spinning.

“Yes,” Sir Do said. “If he does not receive an egg this round, he’s not suited to be a rider. His talents should be focused elsewhere. Perhaps he can become a court judge.”

You tried to imagine Kyungsoo sitting as a judge, suffocated under swathes of black cloth and powdered wigs. It was a noble profession, but it wasn’t Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was laughter, sunburnt noses, hair whipping in the wind, and the smell of dried sweat and well-worn leather. Kyungsoo achieved his highest marks in hands-on classes, not conceptual ones. He was born to ride.

Sir Do’s heavy hand on your shoulder brought your focus back to the present. You stared up at the man who you had read about in your history textbook. On paper, he seemed larger than life—numerous awards, multiple honors, and an innate talent that could not be tamed. In real life, all you saw was a man trying his best to secure a future for his son, no matter what Kyungsoo had to say. (And you were sure Kyungsoo had a lot to say.)

If you learned one thing about Kyungsoo in the more than half-a-year you’d known him, it was that he never gave up. Whether it was a stupid competition of “who can name the most dragon species” or a “who can change the bedding the fastest”, he pursued victory with a dogged determination you could only dream of. You couldn’t imagine he would be happy being forced away from his dream, and you had no doubt that Sir Do had the power and influence to keep Kyungsoo locked out of the academy.

You thought back to your own past. This was your first egg consideration—the past round, you hadn’t even made the cut. But you had pulled yourself together and worked your butt off for another opportunity, and it had paid off. Even if you did not receive an egg this round, you were young enough that waiting another year wouldn’t hurt your chances. You also still had the full support of your family back home, both emotional and monetary. The more you thought about it, the luckier you were. While not entirely sold on the idea of you becoming a rider, your father had never forbade you, and your mother had always supported your choice. Even if this path did not work out, you had a home to return to. Did Kyungsoo? If riding didn’t work out, would Kyungsoo return to a home or to a prison?

“I—”

Sir Do held up a hand. “I did not come here for an answer. I just came here so that you understood the gravity of the situation.” With that, he gave you a stiff nod and strode away.

You stood there for so long that you didn’t even jolt when Kyungsoo skidded around the corner, out of breath and red-cheeked. No doubt Chanyeol, worried by your prolonged absence, had told his friend what occurred.

“Are you okay? My father, he didn’t.” Kyungsoo waved his hands. “Seriously, are you okay?”

You gave him a cheeky smile. “Relax,” you said, slapping him on his back. “He just wanted to thank me for saving you. Guess that’s two Do’s who owe me now.” The lie slipped out easily.

Kyungsoo eyed you. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Please, I could take your dad.” That statement was genuine. The smirk that you shot in Kyungsoo’s direction wasn’t. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried about me.” You nudged Kyungsoo.

“I am.”

His admission took you by surprise. At a loss for words, you reached out and squeezed his elbow, hoping that the touch comforted him. Kyungsoo didn’t say anything more, but he helped you finish cleaning the rest of the stable. It was fine though. Because in your mind, actions spoke louder than words.

#kyungsoo scenario #exo scenario #d.o scenario #do kyungsoo scenario #kpop scenario #thats my dragon

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bonbonswirl-blog · 6 years

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Old passer

ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING. You already know this is not canon, i want to point out that there is a character here that belongs to toony BUT doesnt have any kind of design or personality so i created them myself for this story XD means the anything here is not canon at all, that it thank u ^^

Wallaby was standing outside in front of a random store under shade. There he is, standing alone, tapping the ground under him with one foot, his hands in his pants pockets while looking bored. At these fine balmy days, almost every eye hides behind sunglasses and hair flows freely in the breeze, erratic steps echo. The janitor Penetrating gaze probed Perusing the sea of faces, like if he is looking for someone he was supposed to meet up with ages ago and they never came, now he is still here waiting for their arrival at any second. If only time can pass faster, or if he had something to entertain himself away from this killing boredom instead of leaving him to dwell with it. Letting his eyes roam over the streets, he just moved his head right and left checking if one of those faces is the person he meant to meet. However, he didnt know that few moments later something going to etch insidr his memory is going to take place right now. It was the moment when he noticed one of the passers being a lady, a normal lady, just like all the other ladies in the streets. but for some unknown reason, he felt something being off, her presence pulling his attention away from any other person.

Long fluid wisps of chocolate hair that always seemed to gleam when it captured the light just right. Large liquid blue eyes held such a serenity, trimmed by long pretty lashes, lovely eyes, yet somehow seem gentle. Florid cheeks and flawlessly syrup sweet sculpted lips was lilac soft. She was all about simplicity, holding a small bag in her hands, wearing a short cute bright flowing dress, walking like an elegant lady.

And still for today, wallaby have no idea what was it in his guts that forced him to move his legs as fast as he can to approach her before she get any further away and dissappear from sight.

"E-Excuse me miss!" She turned around, facing wallaby who was holding his flatcap in his hands, waiting for his request. He looked at her with confused eyes, of course he would be, he doesnt know why is he even talking to her from tha first place, what does his guts want from a random person he never saw? "Yes sir?" She smiled, lipstick glowing. She had a soothing voice, atleast thats what wallaby thought, she seemed nice, that kind of woman whom hold a tiny warmth within eyes. Those eyes...just by looking at this pair he can see one of his gazes in them. That evoked something from some part of his brain, He had no memory of her, atleast thats what he thinks, cause he doesnt recall any. Perhaps its not a memory per se, but echoes that call to his intuition. He started to think he may recognize her before, maybe he did neet her at one point in his life? maybe that was the reason why his legs automatically moved to catch her? Yes, it was, he can tell. Her simple smile was unique, reminded him of a certain smile too. he could have swore he saw it a lot, but where? when? And who? He was anxious for recognition he never knew. "I..." the janitor had no absolute idea of what to say when stopping a stranger for no reason, but he tried to come with a good excuse so he doesnt seem like a fool. How about..the reason he approached her from the first place? Why he ran to her before he lost her view. "Miss did we...did we meet before somewhere?" "We did? Oh Im sorry but, I dont think i do remember..." she apologized, wallaby didnt feel sad or dissapointed because she was just a stranger to him, but his inside did. She doesnt know him too, he can now let her go away right? Nope, that answer didnt calm his guts down, his tongue isnt satisfied with it. He looked at her again. Noticing smooth Bangs obscuring the woman forhead, framing her face. what is so intresting is that.

Her bangs are just like wallaby ones.

That was a nice detail, but all wallaby wanted is to sooth those unknown feelings and go back quickly to waiting for a certain person. "Are you sure? cuz I do feel that we may had knew each other at some point. I mean come on! Our bangs are really so similiar missy!"

So how can wallaby know a lady who is 20 years older than him? Dont ask him, ask his gut. it was still impossible for him not to be held prisoner by the intuitons. but there was undeniable familiarity to her features, possibly thats what held him so captivated. she giggled slightly "I just noticed that too...even our hair color is the same shade! Staring at your eye...I feel myself looking at a mirror! So..whats your name? Maybe I can remember you then!" "Oh! My name is-"

They both stopped when they heard objects hitting the floor with a loud thud.

They both turned their heads for the source of the voice, to their right concerned. It was a man with short dark brown hair, ruddy skin, a flatcap, standing there. Frozen, arms still static in the same position he left his belongings to fall down.

Wallaby was puzzled. His father constantly welcomed any kind of guest he met with kind smiles and words. He never gave that kind of a shocked reaction to anyone before, especially for just meeting a random lady. His child himself didnt see him that shocked before about anything. But he tried to push it off for now and get back to the subject. "Oh dad Here you are! This is m-" He was cut too when he saw the woman next to him no longer smiling, soft glowy lipstick in a frown, not being too happy to see his father. Drown in her unwanted sad moments, lowered Dull orbs of ocean blocked under the dark shadow created of her fallen bangs, her expressions faded, the molten chocolate that hung precisely on her back turning dry, cheery dress no longer dancing with the breeze. The brown haired boy doesnt understand a thing... unsettling feelings began filling him. Whats wrong? Why are they both That greetly dissapointed? What making his head spin are the unexplained transitions. Who is she? What does she have to do with his dad? He wished he could Leap straight for the answer.

Mason already felt the knife before he saw it. Looking at the girl wallaby just met in a forlorn stare. He didnt blink and in the depths of his gaze, he couldnt believe his eyes anymore. He looked into her eyes one more second to make sure this isnt the wrong person or some hallucinations haunting him.

It was his partner

Or you could say his previous partner.

His shoulders hunched together like if he was trying to disappear inside himself. Even his dark eyes seemed to be attempting to retreat inside his head.

"...Lucy...."

"...You...."

She couldnt even remember his name. Expected. Why would she do anyway? Mason can still recognize her voice, even though its been...very long years since he last heard it, or seen her face...She wasnt that girl he loved, who cared about his being, or encouraged him to do his best in achieving dreams. No, she is just an old passer from his old life. The old lucy was long gone. Lucy snutched up an eye to finally take a glance at her once spouse. Looking at each other, Both of them had changed, yet still identifiable, funny how much tricky the time is. they realised that the eyes whose were once filled with so much purpose and love was now replaced with bitterness, and maybe hate. The only thing that showed any resemblance to the man was the shell the bitter soul inhabited. His old self was gone too. Mason never left anyone, they walked away. In his life he had been the sunshine, giving warmth, light and love without reserve, Yet there came a time when the pain within overwhelmed and only tears came. Her abandonment was like a betrayal to him, a burning to his soul, a dusty hot road on which his mind and body can wither. He had lost the one he loved the most in the world, the one who had kept him stable for periods in his life time. The near loss of everyone he had loved wasnt emotionally stabling to him. Only his son wallaby stayed, refusing to leave his dear father side. It was never an exciting blank page, a fresh start, or a choice to mason, but more akin of being naked in a blizzard. Lucy guessed she should do something about this stifled silence, to break it with a move, It is her own job to find an easful air around herself, so she made it towards him with an outstretch hand and that kind of desponded face usually reserved for your dissatisfaction. But mason startled like a deer in the woods, almost toppling as he took a large step backwards, entire face glowed up with pain and anguish. He let his face fall with gravity again. stepping aside while he slunk past not looking left or right, Leaving wallaby and his own regrets behind, alone. Wallaby wasnt ok at this point, blankly staring at the path his dad toke until distance obscured, hurt was welling in his son eyes, his dad looked broken. Lucy...lucy...Where did he hear that name before? Its repeated in his head many times, mentioned there and audiable by only one voice, his father voice. He unglued his eyes from the path and returned a stare for the woman in hopes for a small claricifation. She sighted him out from the corner of her eye, unable to look at him anymore. "So you..." "Miss..I-" "dont tell me that your name is wallaby...." He got it.

He finally got it.

That woman is his mother.

His Absent mother.

His heart jolts in pain. His jaw went slack with dumbfounded, eyes resigned surprise, brain stutters for a moment and his eyes take in more light than he expected, every part of him goes on pause while his thoughts catch up. Memories started to flood in every blood vessel in his brain, all of them are his five years old self, a beautifull young woman tugging along his side, she is nobody else but his mother lucy. All those stale pictures and voices clinging to his mind at a once. He can now recall them all. It was like he was living those moments, or visualizing them. Set of warm hands he would let hold him own clapping together before holding him off the ground and spinning his small body in the air, voice cradle his mind in familiar sounds, her soothing him from losing his favorite balloon or humming her favorite song at the kitchen. He still remember their last time playing together before the next day, he saw her with suitcases in hand, vanishing through the door, never coming back. For the first while he felt lost with not a single place feeling like home. However happiness found its way back thanks to mason treasured love. Time after time her presence in his life was erased. At this moment here, where he is meeting his mother for the first time after growing up. He felt that a part of his brain Where there should be certain memories is blank space, like a soft beige wall bereft of photographs. After a wash of cold he stepped out from the shadows and highlights of sundown. blazing sun descended, burning the sky in a powerful mix of amber and blood red. The dying sunlight seeped out behind sillhouet. Lucy spun around with her heals, back already facing wallaby in neglect, ready to go far away and leave him, again, in the same day he just met her. The rhythm of her heels clicking against the hard streets floor didnt stop wallaby from uttering his words. "Why did you leave dad?..." She paused her footsteps. "Why did you leave me?.." she stayed silent. How could she answer this? "You werent worth it, wallaby." He was raked with disdain, His eyes glistened with the pain of her betrayal, leaving wallaby with no alternative but to seek a new suspect of more harm, the truth of her innocence is discovered.

"You two were just old passers in my old life. Im glad l didnt waste it in you." Nobody around was heard, just continual taps of heels heading to a straight way. Stepping on her son heart each time they connect to the ground. Her kid steadily tracking her road until she completly escaped over the horizon. His eyes allowed her reluctantly to go past that orange lane, he was unsure about how should he feel about this new memory.

As the daylight dwindled the tension in Skye grew. Mason was in a slight crowded area in a specific street, Standing there on his own, doing nothing but giving a thousand mile stare into space, somehow the noised around doesnt affect any bit of his focusing. Wallaby had found him after taking some time for searching around, reaching him to be by his side. He never even said a single "hey..." to him. Instead, they both kept walking home in a queit sunset. Mason made no attempt to speak the whole way. Apparently, his young boy had expected this, as he kept shut too, mostly cause he didnt know what to say in this situation. Heavy sighs gracing each few minuts passes from the father mouth, did his eyes shine with the terror of his memories. Empty, yet They told a story of sadness, The dark lines around them didnt help much. He didnt mean to fall in love with lucy, but he did anyway, From the very first time he talked to her, he knew there was something so true in this person that reassure him he could be the true him. If only he had enough cohesion power to describe what happened that day to his loved son wallaby, but right now This was mason burden, his kid shouldnt be sharing it with him. His steps were dragged and movements forced. While the companion was down in the dumps, an inkling of wistfulness glimmer in soft eyes dropped to the corners. He fixed his eye toward the sky, wallaby always admired sunsets. But tonight, he felt blue, curbed. Not wanting to think about anything and just get back home to rest from this long day.

At nightfall the heat of the day would evaporate along with the last sunrays. At that night wallaby closed his eyes, head pressed on a soft pillow. hoping for sleep to take him away from this thing called reality. The darkness overtook him slowly, and he fell asleep. But For the first time, Little tears falling from his face.

#brueklynn #mason wallstone #wallaby wallstone #lucy wallstone

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mysweetestcreature · 7 years

Text

Wish Upon A Star (StepBro!Harry) Part III

Part II

***

Current drags the water in far enough to tickle the tips of her toes. A much-appreciated cooling sensation against her hot skin is something to revel in. He’s stretched out on the towel to her right, beads of water caressing his skin from having taken a dip in the ocean a few moments prior. It’s been four days since they’ve arrived in paradise. Her parents have been all loved-up celebrating twelve marvelous years of marriage. She admires how good they are together. Her mum is truly an amazing woman and her dad is as top-notch as they come. In time, she hopes that one day her and Harry can do what they do with just as much brilliance and finesse.

Only now does she realize how much they’ve needed this getaway. Come the fall, they’ll be starting university together in London. The process of filling out applications and sending them in and awaiting their fate had taken a toll on her, Harry as well. Fortunately, they both had been granted admissions to one of their top universities in a city where they could start fresh.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he’s staring at her with an almost child-like curiosity.

“I’m just thinking,” she trails. He quirks an eyebrow at her, then rolls onto his side and props up his elbow to support his head. She mirrors his actions, so they’re face to face. His hand runs down her side, before it settles on the curve of her waist. “Do you ever think about the future?” It’s a forward question, but one that’s been drifting around in her mind for ages.

“I do,” he inches closer to her on the towel. He places a chaste kiss to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose. By the way the corners of her mouth are tugging upwards, he knows he should continue. “I see us getting a flat together after graduation, or maybe even during our final year at Uni. By then you’ll be an accountant at some fancy firm and I’ll be designing buildings higher than anyone’s ever seen.”

The way he’s describing their future with such certainty has her heart swelling beneath her chest. “What else do you see?” They’ve never really talked about anything as far as schooling goes, until now that is.

“If you must know,” he teases and pokes his nose into hers, “once we’re well off with our careers, I’m going put a ring on this finger right here.” He takes ahold of her left hand and thumbs across the base of her ring finger––she’s practically drawing blood from how hard she’s chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Oh yeah?” the words are almost inaudible.

Harry nods his head vigorously. “Yeah. Then once I’ve knocked you up, we’ll move somewhere we can raise the kids. I’m thinking Dulwich, yeah? Can get a dog too, if you’d like. We’ll watch him chase after the little buggers once they’re home from school.”

She can’t help but giggle at the thought of their children. Hopefully they have his eyes. “How many kids are we talking here?”

He pretends to think, but he’s had the magic number committed to memory for a while now. “Three: Two boys, one girl. I can tell you now, my little angel is going to be a daddy’s girl,” he muses.

“Well, it seems like you’ve got things all figured out,” a blush falls upon the apples of her cheeks and she’s feeling all bubbly inside. He hums in agreement. It’s true. These are the thoughts the he has in bed when she’s fast asleep right next to him. He knows for sure that achieving such a dream will be difficult, impossible even. Things probably won’t turn out as picture-perfect as he’d like, but it doesn’t faze him. If he has to map out different ways to get to her, he will.

***

Harry notices how the rays of light are hitting her features in the most splendid of ways as they walk down stone steps that scatter throughout the island. He pulls his camera out to capture the moment. With a subtle ‘click’, he’s got the memory preserved. Y/n rolls her eyes, he’s been taking endless pictures of her since arriving. He says he wants to remember this holiday years from now and think fondly back to how ethereal she looked in the Grecian sun. Of course, he’s taken numerous shots of other things as well. They had explored the perimeters of the island yesterday. The manager at the hotel suggested they go on the Fira to Oia trail. Magnificent, is what Harry muttered when they reached the edge of the cliff.

“Let’s head into the market, I promised Carrie I’d bring her something back,” Y/n says to him. He follows her through the crowds of people until they’re stopping at some jewelry stall. Instantly, she’s drawn to a rose quartz necklace arranged in the center of the cart. A beautiful soft shade of pink surrounded by a silver trim. “This is gorgeous,” she mumbles, but it’s more to herself. She picks it up off the cart to further study it. When she turns to ask for his opinion, he’s already wandered off. Her eyes scout the area, and she finds him snapping away on his camera.

“Oi!” she shouts to him. Once she’s got his attention, he’s bringing the lens to his eye and taking yet another picture of her. He chuckles when he goes to look at it. In it, she’s glaring at him in that cute way she always does when she’s annoyed.

He jogs back over and cups her face in his palms. She gives him an unknowing look when suddenly he’s attaching his lips to hers. The initial reaction is shock, until she’s grabbing his hips and melting into him. He licks along her lip and she grants him access to explore the expanse of her mouth. The kiss leaves her panting once he’s pulling away. She’s still a little unsure of what’s just happened but feels utterly satisfied at the same time.

***

“What’d you two do today?” They’re eating dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. “I went all the way to your guys’ room this morning, housekeeping said I just missed you,” Eric inquires. He had planned for all of them to do something together as a family. For most of the trip, they’d been subdivided into groups: him and Anne, Y/n and Harry.

Y/n swallows her mouthful of salad. “We went to the market today. Oh, Mum, you’d love it! I got myself the most beautiful necklace,” she gushes dreamily as she thinks back. Harry had bought it for her after their little display earlier. The jeweler had even given him a discount, she said something about how the rose quartz would help preserve their love. (Although Y/n is sure it was just to make a sale.)

Anne smiles in amusement at the girl. She loves how everyone is enjoying the vacation. Husband and wife had spent the day at the spa, and how relaxing it was! She had left the facility feeling years younger. An example of how proper rest and relaxation can do wonders to one’s wellbeing. “Dad and I will probably check it out before we leave,” she turns to look at Harry. “How about you, bub? What were you up to while this one was shopping?“

At first Harry doesn’t respond, his attention is fixed on the way Y/n is seductively biting her bottom lip in between her teeth, but it’s unseen by the older pair. He clears his throat. "I’ve got a bunch of shots of the buildings, the architecture here is incredible. My camera is back in the room though, remind me to show you later.” As a future architect, he really appreciates the structural cohesiveness that surrounds them. Greek architecture has always fascinated him and seeing it in person is definitely something to leave him awe-struck. Eric begins asking him questions about style and concept, which he happily responds to. He barely notices her sinking slightly into her chair until he can feel something touch his inner thigh. Casually, he glances down and nearly chokes when he spots her toes resting on the edge of his seat. Anne asks if he’s okay, but at this point, he isn’t sure.

***

After dinner, they’re parting ways on route to opposite sides of the hotel. The parents are staying in a honeymoon suite because according to Eric, ‘a man needs space to love on his wife without interruptions from their brood.’ Consequently, they booked the kids a nice deluxe room a good distance away. It’s not like the younger two mind it though. The arrangement has been quite the luxury for them. Imagine how torturous it would be for the four of them to be in such close proximity to each other––a nightmare is what that is.

Once he’s sure that they’re away from any suspicious eyes, he’s pressing his front against her bum. When she feels his hardening member poke her, she grinds into him. He lets out a throaty groan and traces along the exposed skin that separates her fitted crop top and maxi skirt. “Can’t wait to get these off you.” She cranes her neck to reach up and place slow sensual kisses along his structured jawline. Her fingers tread through the spaces between his. Both so consumed with each other, they don’t even notice that they’ve managed to make their way to the elevator. Its doors slide open and he’s all but pushing her inside.

Taking advantage of their isolation, he pushes her up against the wall and brings his lips to dawdle just centimeters away from hers. “You going to kiss me or not?” she taunts, a smirk spreads across her face. He brushes her hair behind her ear and goes to busy himself with the spot just below her lobe. Using the bar handle behind her as support, she leans back and lets out a content sigh as he makes his way down to suck tenderly on her pulse.

“Should just take you right here, yeah? You love a little thrill, don’t you? It’s why you’ve been teasing me all night,” his voice is dangerously low. “Been so naughty, pet. I think I’m going to have to punish you tonight.” His hand slips past the waistband of her skirt, until it slides down to cup her heat. She lets out a shaky breath as he rubs her through the thin fabric of her panties. Harry has to stop himself from moaning when he feels how wet she is already. “Soaking for me."

"You don’t have the balls,” she scoffs.

Suddenly, he can feel his blood boiling in his veins. A winded moan passes through her lips when he’s plunging a finger into her. She throws her head back and he’s attacking the skin of her throat, grazing his teeth against the smooth flesh. The way she can feel him curling against her walls has her nearly begging, but not just yet. Despite how much she wants him, she wants to wind him up a bit more. She pushes him away till he’s leaning on the opposite end of the elevator.

One long stride in his direction, she’s placing more kisses along his jaw, his breath hitches when she’s palming his erection. “What’s the matter, baby?” a mask of innocence conceals the seductress underneath. He’s looking down at her through hooded eyes and parted lips. She brings her lips to press against the side of his mouth. Glancing up at the floor numbers as they pass by, he can’t believe how fucking slow the lift is going. His ears perk once the 'ding’ signals they’ve reached their floor.

They’re growing more impatient as he fumbles with the room keycard. She snatches it from him and inserts the plastic into the socket with ease. He walks her backwards into the depths of the interior. His kisses are selfish and hungry, and hot. The button up he’d been wearing has been discarded somewhere by the door. She moans against him as he’s pulling down her skirt and panties to pool around her ankles. His fingers are back to work as they tease her entrance. It’s a frantic attempt, but she’s finally gotten his trousers off, even in her hazy state. As soon as the back of her knees hit the footboard, they’re tumbling on top of the mattress. He kneels between her legs and kisses up her thigh. “I need you inside of me."

His pupils are dilated as he licks his lips and scans over her naked body. "Someone’s needy,” he spreads her legs apart. “Look at you, all wet. Is this all for me?” Instead of responding, Y/n flips them over to straddle his waist. He’s caught off guard for moment, but the view of her from this angle is breathtaking. He grabs the camera on the side table and adjusts the focus, so her image is crisp under the dimmed wall lights. “So fucking beautiful.” He tosses it to the side and brings her down to meet his lips in another passionate kiss.

She lifts herself up, until the tip of him is nudging into her. When she sinks down completely, they’re both chanting each other’s names. His hands go to grip her hips, guiding their movements. They take it slower than previously intended, both deciding to treasure the last night of their holiday. She doesn’t dare break eye contact with him. Although their desperation a few moments ago had called for a rough shag, it’s suddenly become much more. Nothing is said between them, they don’t need words to communicate their inner most desires. Just by the way their bodies move together, can they read what’s on the other’s mind. Eventually, she starts to feel herself unwind. A flash of hot white clouds her vision as she tightens deliciously around him. He bucks into her, wanting to chase his own orgasm.

“Are you going to cum?” she asks when she’s seeing clearly again. He’s nodding his head and she lifts off him. Harry raises an eyebrow at her, but she just smiles up at him. “Want you to cum in my mouth.” She gives him no chance to respond before her mouth encompasses the length of him. His eyes roll to the back of his head as she swallows him whole.

***

“I’m rather jealous right now. Look at you, you’re glowing!” Carrie exclaims. It’s back to reality for Y/n, and the feeling is bittersweet. Part of her wishes she could stay back in Greece with Harry. The experience had been nothing short of extraordinary. She’s been telling Carrie about her holiday while lounging outside during free period.

“It was nice to able to relax for a while. I don’t remember the last time I felt so free.” Now that they are back in the UK, everything about their relationship is back under the cloaks of secrecy. Carrie shoots her a questioning expression, but Y/n shrugs it off. “I did a lot of exploring, is what I meant. The views from the hills are gorgeous, you’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” it’s obvious her friend isn’t buying into it, but she’s thankful that Carrie chooses not to press any further. “Anyway, did you get me anything?”

Y/n laughs and goes to fish something out of her book bag. She pulls out a small box that she had wrapped just this morning. Carrie excitedly snags the present out of her clutches and tears at the paper. She’s squealing in delight as she looks at the opal earrings in her lap. Just as she’s putting them on, Harry saunters over and plops himself down next to Y/n.

“Ladies,” he simply greets. He’d just finished up a class early when he spotted the two under the shade of the tree. “Nice earrings,” he compliments, “was dragged around kingdom come with your friend trying to find 'the perfect pair’. Honestly, you should be thanking me.” The comment earns him a painful whack in the ribs and glare from Y/n. For the remaining time, he just listens in on the girls’ conversation. He gets slightly annoyed when Carrie starts asking about if there were any flings with hot Greek boys. Harry can’t help the sneer that escapes him.

“Does it ever get annoying having such an overprotective brother?” Y/n laughs at her friend’s attempts to poke fun at the boy next to her. “You know, I went to the movies with Isaac from Latin class over the holiday. We started talking and when I mentioned you, he addressed you as 'Harry’s girl.’ I literally laughed in his face! Can you believe the fool didn’t know you two were siblings?” Carrie clutches her stomach at the memory. She doesn’t notice the nervous exchange between Harry and Y/n. Had someone seen them? Surely it was impossible. They had always been so careful.

***

Anne decided to take a few days off to clean the house when they arrived back. She was horrified by how quickly some dust had accumulated in some of the larger rooms. It was also a chance for her to catch up on the bundles of laundry they had brought back. Eric insisted she wait for him and the kids to help her over the weekend, but she wasn’t having any of it. No house of hers is going to be unkempt, not on her watch.

She opens the door to Y/n’s room to place her clean clothes on top of her dresser. The surface is full of pictures of her daughter’s favorite memories throughout the years. Her eyes land affectionately on their first family picture. It had been taken at her and Eric’s wedding. The two children stood there holding hands as they posed in front of the newly married couple. All those years ago, she had never expected to find love again after her divorce from Harry’s father. The separation had taken a toll on her and her young son. She met Eric at the grocery in a very movie-esque fashion. His cart had bumped into hers and swerved into a display of canned soup. A true cliché if she’s ever heard of one.

Looking down at the pile of folded clothes still sitting in the basket, Anne makes her way towards Harry’s room. She’s surprised at how orderly it appears. Usually she has to yell at him to make it look more presentable. He is a teenage boy after all.

The camera on top of his desk grabs her attention just as she’s about to walk out. Harry had told her and Eric about the notable pictures he had taken. She admires the way he’s so passionate about architecture, he’ll be making a big name for himself one day. “Let’s have a look then,” she mumbles. The first picture is of Eric at the airport the morning of their return flight home. He’s falling asleep in his seat, Y/n is peeking out behind him and sticking out her tongue. The next is of herself reading one of her daughter’s magazines––Anne makes an internal note to look through that smoothie recipe.

As she backtracks through those taken the day of their departure, her brows furrow at a photo of Y/n covered by the white sheets of the hotel. By the looks of it, she isn’t wearing anything underneath. She clicks to the next picture and she nearly screams. A picture of her topless daughter in a compromising position, right in front of her eyes. Anne’s heart is racing as she frantically goes through the collection. Between nature shots and architectural shots are pictures of the girl. Most seem to be stolen snaps. Some are at rather intimate angles and distances. She can’t help the thoughts that are running through her head. There’s a terrifying feeling surrounding her, but it’s the confirmation of her fears that has her feeling sick to her stomach. She grabs her phone.

***

The car ride home consists of them singing along to Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rumours’ album. She is quite annoyed though at how wonderful Harry’s voice is in comparison to her chicken vocals. Once the song is over, she’s turning down the volume, so she won’t need to scream over the music. What Carrie had told them earlier has been bothering her all day. “We’ve been careful, right?"

He momentarily peers at her, "Of course, love. It’s not like we snog in the hallways or anything.” She rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m being serious! If Isaac’s noticed something, I’m sure other people have too.”

“Baby, Isaac isn’t the brightest bulb out there, you know that. I heard from Jameson that he’s always coming to class high,” he laughs, but he sees she’s still uncertain about all this. He reaches over to take her hand and brings it to his lips. “Don’t worry, yeah?” Her mouth fall into a straight line and she half-heartedly drops the subject. Carrie had refuted the notion of them being linked in that way. Surely there’s nothing to fuss over.

The volume is raised, and they sit their listening. Both their hands are in her lap as she fiddles with his long fingers. He pulls into their driveway and is surprised to see his dad’s car parked just outside. “Dad’s home early,” he says as he pulls the keys out of the ignition. Eric usually stays at the office until six, Harry glances down at his watch, 4 o'clock.

***

“They’re here,” Anne’s looking at them through the curtains. She turns back to where her husband is sat on the armchair. He nods slowly. Anne had called him up at work in hysterics. Something about their children doing things no siblings should ever do. He laughed at her because the indication was simply outrageous. It was only until he left the office much earlier than he normal and saw his wife crying on the sofa that he saw the picture.

The front door opens, and the sounds of Y/n giggles fill the house. Harry had cracked the corniest joke, known to man. She doesn’t know where he gets them from. They walk into the living room to see their parents looking all serious. The atmosphere around them is tense.

“What’s with the faces?” Harry asks. He looks at his mother and sees that her eyes are puffy. “Mum, are you alright?” he rushes to her side, but she holds a hand in front of her. Stop. He takes a step back. His eyes move to look back to Y/n, but she’s staring at something else. Following her gaze, they land on the camera in his dad’s grasp.

Eric stands up slowly, holding the camera up. “Explain this,” his voice is harsh. Harry hesitantly takes it from him. His heart stops when he sees it. Y/n waits for Harry to react, but when he too falls silent, she’s snatching the device from him. Tears automatically start to pool at her eyes at the picture of her and Harry, tightly embraced, lips locked.

She looks up to face Eric, “Daddy I-”

“How long,” he interrupts, but he’s looking directly at Harry, but the younger man can’t bring himself to look at him. “How long have you been sleeping with my daughter?” Both of them wince at the pounding of Eric’s shouts. He grabs Harry by the collar, “Fucking tell me!”

Anne rushes to hold on to Eric’s arm, “Calm down, this won’t solve anything.” She’s trying her best not to crack herself.

“Calm down? Calm down!? Anne, they’ve been sneaking around behind our backs. Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” He’s seething with anger, frustration, and confusion. How could they have done this to him and Anne? It’s disgusting.

Y/n gently places her hand on his shoulder, “Daddy, let him go. C'mon stop it…please.” Eric keeps his glaring eyes on Harry, before his fist collides with his face. Both Anne and Y/n scream as Harry falls to the floor. He watches his daughter kneel down beside him and seethes as he’s wrapping a protective arm around her.

The scene that’s unfolding before her has the heated tears streaming from Anne’s eyes. “We…” she can’t stop herself from choking back a sob, “raised you together as-as brother and sister. This isn’t normal!"

Harry stands both of them up. He can taste his own blood from where Eric had punched him on the side of his mouth. Y/n is crying into chest, but nothing he can do right now can stop any of this from happening. "I love her,” he boldly states. Both adults sneer at his words, as if it’s impossible to believe he could have such feelings. “You heard me, I’m in love with Y/n,” this time there’s an edge to his tone.

Anne shrieks, “Don’t be so stupid, Harry. Use your head, she’s your sister!"

"But not by blood,” Y/n counters when she peels herself away to confront them. “We’re not related. Hell, we don’t even share a last name. There’s nothing binding us besides your marriage.” Older couple and younger couple stare fuming at one another. There’s nothing that can be said to fix this mess the latter two have created.

“How long?” Eric reiterates the question from before. “For how long has this affair been going on?”

Harry puts his hand to rest on Y/n’s lower back. “A little more than two years.” Eric can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Two years, over two years of them lying straight to his face. He’s angry at both them for betraying his trust. While he and Anne were out of the house, what were they doing? Judging from the all those pictures on the camera…no. He doesn’t want to think about what they’ve been doing with each other. Whatever anger he’s feeling towards the world right now, he’s angrier at himself for being so blind.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” he’s grabbing his keys and is walking out of the house. Anne attempts to stop him, he really shouldn’t be driving in such an emotional state, but it’s no use. As she stands defeated looking at the door, back turned to them, she’s never felt so disappointed and hurt in her entire life. Not even sparing them a second glance, she makes her way up the stairs without a word.

Likewise, the two drown in the deafening silence of the room. Y/n wants to march up there and explain to her mum all the reasons why this relationship isn’t wrong. She wants to tell her dad off for hitting Harry, but also plead for his forgiveness. Vulnerable. It’s the only word she can use to describe how she’s feeling. And despite Harry trying to soothe her, the damage has been done.

They had been caught, their secret’s out.

***

A/N: Drama starts NOW! My god, I’m stressed out just thinking about what’s going to happen to Harry and Y/n. What did you all think? Comments, suggestions, concerns? Tell me here!

#stepbro!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles

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