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kingsuckjin · 4 years

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Ungodly Beast 2

⸸ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader, Priest! Namjoon x reader

⸸ Rated: M (18+)

⸸ Genre: smut, horror, fluff?, angst?

⸸ Synopsis: You’d rather go to hell yourself than let the devil take your baby, even if he helped create him… even if your little boy is beginning to sprout horns.

⸸ Warnings: (may contain spoilers) death, kidnapping, kind of depression and some heavy feels, satanic symbolism, voyeurism, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (please wrap your ding dong before playing ping pong), more sinful shit, male masturbation, dom-ish reader, strangulation (like also not in a sexy way), dom! Jungkook, spit kink, the most dirty talk you've ever seen, fisting, fingering, dick size kink, daddy kink, degradation, impreg kink, pain kink, devil kook still looks wild, spanking, branding, choking, hair pulling, biting and scratching, blood play/blood eating, tattoo kink, really rough sex, a very jealous Jungkook, more death/murder, a very brief mention of drugs, fluffy sex, gore, a fight scene, it's just graphic and awful.

⸸ Words: 15k

⸸ Note: I’d link the first part in this fic here, but tumblr has been doing this cute little thing where if you insert a link in something then the fic won’t show up in the tags. So I very sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but you’ll have to go through my masterlist to find part 1. Also, an anon told me that this fic goes really well with the album Too Weird to Live too Rare to die by panic at the disco, specifically the song Far too young to die, so if you're looking for something to listen too while reading this, then that would be perfect.

"What have you done?"

Those were your mother's first words after telling her you were pregnant. You had no idea how she knew, perhaps it was the worried, troubled, tired look on your face that that told her. Maybe she just sensed it, sensed the seed of half evil already taken root and growing inside of you.

You stayed silent, confirming an unspoken conclusion between you. She clutched at the rosary around her neck as her shocked, open mouth quivered and glossy tears pooled in her eyes.

"You didn't…" She whispered, "please tell me you didn't."

Out of shame, you still didn't speak.

"How did you know?" You finally decided to ask.

"I've dealt with him before, I know the way his terrible presence feels, and now I feel it with you. I almost can't stand it." Her words both stung and made you have an unsettling feeling that crawled up your spine. Was it simply the baby she had felt? Had he marked you somehow and now it was you making her feel like this? Or was he with you? Silently watching and waiting.

"What did you give for the child?" Your mother was nearly in sobs now.

"He didn't tell me at first-" you began to try to defend yourself but your mother cut you off.

"He never does. What was it?"

"He's taking him…" you felt the prick of tears sting your eyes now too. You had to cover your mouth quite suddenly to keep a sob from escaping. It hurt to think about, to talk about. You were afraid. "...when he turns five."

She took your hands between hers and looked you in the eyes.

"We will do everything we can, I promise. We will fight."

You nodded and attempted to blink away the tears.

"Pray with me. We can pray. God will help us, I know it."

You nodded again as she gripped your hands firmly in hers reassuringly. She let her head fall slightly and closed her eyes prompting you to do the same.

As she started with her prayer, you began to feel a ringing in your head, the sound grew and grew until it was piercing, drowning out her words. A tsunami of nausea overtook your body so powerful you jumped up from your seat at your mother's kitchen table, knocking the chair back as you ran for the bathroom in a dizzy haze.

"Ah, they should call it all day sickness instead of morning sickness." Your mom had committed, seeming to brush it off, but you knew in your heart and deep in your soul that something was very, very wrong here.

From the moment you first saw him, you were in love. His big doe eyes, his chubby little cheeks, his soft little hands, and feet. Although he had no horns or black eyes, you tried hard not to see his father in him, which was difficult sometimes.

The worst memories for you were taking him to get baptized as a newborn. He had screamed from the moment you had entered the church and nothing you could do would calm him.

The moment the blessed holy water touched his skin, you watched as it seemed to burn and blister his infant skin in just seconds. You went out to your car in the church parking lot,

calmed him the best you could before strapping him into his car seat, and you cried.

You cried because while he seemed to be a normal little baby, your son, the baby you feed with your own body, sing to, bathe, and love, you were occasionally reminded of what he was and that you might only have him for a very short time.

He still whimpered in the back seat just as you did in the front. Guilt and sadness and fear prompted you to get out of the car and into the back seat where you unfastened him as his pout only worsted your feelings. You took his small body in your arms and held him to your chest. Your nose snuggled into his mess of fluffy dark hair.

"I love you. No ones ever going to take you away from me. I don't care what you are, you're my son more than anything." You let your tears fall onto his head.

That wasn't the scariest thing you had been through though. The worst was the nightmares.

The first was just under a month after he had been born. You had sat up in your bed covered in sweat, the house felt like an oven. Your heart was beating hard even before you had heard it coming through the baby monitor.

Singing.

It sounded high and angelic along with the happy coos of your son. As your groggy mess faded with the race of your heart you also realized it was in a language you not just couldn't understand, but had never heard anything like it before.

It took no time at all for you to practically leap from your bed, and dash from your room and down the hall to your son's room.

As you pushed his door open you saw him. You felt like your heart was beating in your throat now as you saw him with his back to you holding your son, bathed in only the moonlight that the sheer curtains of the nursery let in.

The singing had turned to a soft hum. You realized how wrong you were upon pinning his voice like an angel. You saw the horns sprouting from his wavy hair that dangled as he looked down at the baby in his arms.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to fight, you wanted to do anything to save your baby and keep him from being taken away from you. He was a newborn, it wasn't even time.

You couldn't do anything though, and you didn't know why.

Horrifyingly you found yourself yet again drawn to him, in awe at his presence.

"You can't…" you managed to choke out.

"I will." He didn't turn as he spoke to you. After he spoke, you woke up.

You couldn't sleep very long for months after that nightmare.

There was no denying by age two and a half that he looked more like his father. There was also no denying the little bumps you found while brushing his shaggy hair that sat on the top of his head under his skin. Most mothers would be concerned, wonder if their child had gotten hurt, and bumped their head a few times. But you just sat there frozen, feeling the bumps. You knew what they were, they were his father's claim to him, they were forming horns.

"Mommy okay?" Your son noticed your strange and oddly still demeanor as the hairbrush dropped from your hands onto the bathroom tile where you sat.

That's when it hit you the hardest. Your baby was halfway there. Halfway gone. All you had done so far was helplessly try to deny the fact that he was coming for him. He would take your little boy and drag him to hell if you didn't do something to fight this, find some way, something, someone to help you.

"Mommy?" your son had turned around and was now reaching for your cheeks to smush with his hands like you often did him. His face read of concern and question. Your heart melted at his little gesture. You took in his sweet little face again, his little two front teeth poked out just a little. You couldn't help but squish his face gently right back.

"Mommy's okay." You tried to reassure him the best you could, and it seemed to work. Lucky for you toddlers were sweetly gullible.

The moment you got free time you sent a text to your mom telling her you'd be dropping her grandson off at her house tomorrow, you didn't wait for a reply as you already knew she would jump at any chance to see her grandson whenever she could.

You then made a very important series of phone calls.

"Thank you, thank you so much for meeting with me today on such short notice father-"

"Father Namjoon or just Namjoon is fine." He interrupted. "And don't mention it, I'm here to help. You mentioned problems with your child?"

You took a deep breath and let your face finally show the worry you felt, your bouncing foot on the floor let out your anxiety. You sat there in his office at this tiny church. Worried he would throw you out the moment you told him the truth about what was going on.

Father Namjoon sat across the big worn wooden desk from you and waited patiently for you to further explain. Behind him on the wall was a massive cross along with pictures with him and maybe members of the church pinned to the wall.

" I'm afraid I didn't tell you everything over the phone because… well, every priest I've called said I was crazy and hung up on me after I told them." You admitted and watched as his body language changed with his growing attention.

"But father Namjoon, I swear on my son's life that what I'm about to tell you is the truth. My son is no trouble, but his father is. See, I would've brought my son in today, but he gets these… headaches and nosebleeds in churches."

You watched his reaction carefully, he curiously tilted his head.

"Go on…" he urged.

"Because his father… is… the devil."

Namjoon gave you a nod of understanding that was far too casual for the words you said.

"I have proof." You defended before he could even think to refute your claim.

"I believe you."

"What?" You asked thinking maybe you were only hearing what you wanted to.

"Listen," he leaned forward so that his arms rested on his desk. "He's real. I know he's real. The nervousness in your voice and you say you have proof… you seem perfectly sane to me. When can I meet with your son? Would your home be alright?"

"What are you doing right now? He's with my mother right now."

"Let's go." He said with sureness and no thinking time behind it.

He followed your car to your mother's home. You watched as he got out of his car and just stood there in the driveway, staring at the home.

"Something wrong father?" You asked as he brought forth the cross around his neck and clutched it tightly.

"I can feel him."

"My son? My mom says the same thing about him. We just assume he carries the same feeling as-"

"Not your son, the devil. He's here."

Your heart began to race at the thought of encountering him again. Maybe you had gotten in over your head by asking a priest to see him, but you had to do something.

"Your cross." You stopped father Namjoon as he started to walk towards the door. "I'm sorry but you can't have it near him. My mother had to take down all of hers when he was born."

His eyes seemed to shift around nervously before finally taking off his cross and putting it in his car.

"No worries." He gave you a reassuring smile.

You expected more upon entering the house, not just for your son to casually be sitting there watching tv.

You and your mother had exchanged silent, nervous glances upon her letting you in and seeing the priest.

"Hey buddy, someone wants to talk to you." You knelt down and told your son but he seemed to ignore you.

Your mom turned off the tv, but it didn't seem to affect him.

"Touch his head." You whispered to Namjoon.

He stepped forward and crouched on the floor.

"Hey, little guy! What kind of show were you watching?" He placed his hand on your son's head to pat it but quickly retracted it.

"Don't touch me." your son spoke clearly and firmly. His speech was nothing like his normal, broken toddler way of talking.

You looked at Namjoon who still looked shocked by something, it had to be the growing horns.

"Daddy said don't touch me." Your son spoke again perfectly as if he were a few years older.

Daddy said

"Oh my go-" you couldn't help but let out at his words. Had his father been around this whole time? Just watching him… and you?

"I won't touch you, I promise. Could you turn around for me?"

Your son did as he was asked and faced the priest, looking up at him with wide, almost terrified eyes.

“Can I show him your back?” you asked knowing he would let you touch him before he would a priest. Your son nodded but seemed confused.

You lifted the side of his shirt and showed Namjoon the mark spread along the ribs. The upside-down thick, black cross.

“Quite a birthmark you have there.” Namjoon joked with the boy.

“His father has the same one."

Namjoon stood to his feet which prompted you to do the same.

"Can we talk?" His eyes flickered towards the front door.

"Yeah of course."

"Possibly off the property?" He added and you gave him a nod.

“I'll be back” you assured your mother as you left with the priest.

He led you to his car before asking if you wanted to get a coffee and told you he needed it after what he had just seen and felt. You understood and agreed.

He continued to apologize on the short drive there, but again you understood his need to process this.

It wasn't until after you both had gotten your drinks and sat down in a quiet corner of the shop that he began to talk openly.

“I’m still not sure what to think of all this, but I know you're not lying. He looks like him. My…” he let out a sigh as he played with a pink packet of sugar. “My grandmother had a run-in with him once, never said why or how, but she described him and the way his presence felt. I just don’t think it's your child making me feel that way. I really need to ask what happened between you and...his...father.”

“I-um..I…” you too took a deep breath and decided to explain everything as detailed as you could from summoning him, to only having a few years left with your son. You felt ashamed as you explained to this priest how you had slept with the devil.

Namjoon didn't seem to judge you though, as a matter of fact, he looked sympathetic. He seemed so sweet, kind, and understanding.

“I’m not sure what I can do here,” he told you and reached across the table to place his hand on yours “but I promise to do the best I can. I will do what I can to help protect your family and son.”

You felt the honesty and sincerity in his words, it felt so comforting to you.

“It’s going to be hard, I can just tell he doesn't want me there. I don't know if it’s because I’m a man or because I’m a priest. Let me ask you a rather personal question, have you dated at all since your son was born?”

“No.” you shook your head “I don’t want anyone getting attached to my son because I just don't know what's going to happen. Also, I’m afraid…he might do something. I just… I don't want to put anyone else into this that doesn't need to be.” that part hurt you too, you just felt so lonely on top of it all. “I've had no one to turn to with all of this except my mother.”

“Well, you have me now, okay? You don't have to feel alone anymore. We can solve this together.”

Namjoon had come up with a plan to meet with your son every other day, and at the end of the week, he would meet with only you and talk over the progress, if he had made any at all.

Just a few months in, there was a difference. It seemed his method of slowly introducing god and holy objects such as crosses were beginning to work, he no longer got headaches and nosebleeds around them, and his horns while still little bumps under his skin, they had stopped growing. That also happened to be the month your mother got very very sick. No matter how many times Namjoon came and prayed over her, she still continued to just slip away until she was gone.

And now you had no one but Namjoon.

The day after she passed away was the hardest. Your son was still too small to fully grasp the concept of death, but he still cried about his grandmother never getting to play with him again.

You had waited until you had put him to bed and he had fallen asleep to pour yourself a glass of wine and just cry.

Nothing could distract you from the pain, from the heavy misery, not even the pouring rain and house shaking thunder.

You had turned off all of the lights, the only thing that would occasionally light the room was the lightning.

You felt so alone, more alone than you've felt in your life. You tried hard to sense him, but he just didn't seem there. The one time you felt so desperate and alone, his presence didn't loom over you.

“I hate you,” you spoke out loud. “If you can hear me I hate you. I hate that you've done this to me, I hate that you took her from me and your son. Are you really watching over your son or do you just love to see me suffer? Do you love to see me alone? Huh?” anger coursed through you as you talked to the walls “Answer me!” you yelled a little too loudly and worried that you would wake your son up so you decided to be quiet.

The desperation and loneliness felt like it was suffocating you, you had to do something.

You felt pathetic calling him up this late, but once you heard his voice you already felt better.

“Hey, how are you hanging in there?”

“Not good Namjoon.” you sniffled “I-I just feel so alone, so in over my head. All the things my mom has done for me I just…” you did your best to hold back tears.

“Do you want me there? Is it alright if I come over so you don't have to feel alone?”

“Please?” Your plea was squeaky and weak.

“I’ll leave right now okay? It's just important to remember that you're not alone. God is with you.”

“Thank you. I don't know what I would have done this past few months without you.”

“Please, don't mention it.”

You don't know how it got here. You had only had a half a glass of wine in total, and a two-hour deep conversation and now you had pulled him into your room and you were ripping off each other’s clothes as if they were tainted.

“Fuck me” you tossed your shirt to the floor and pressed your lips back to his with ferocity. He sharply exhaled through his nose at how turned on he was by your demand, although you could feel it through his underwear.

“You sure?” he mumbled into your lips. You let out a hum into his before sinking to your knees.

“Fuck.” he muttered, mesmerized as you pulled his underwear, letting it fall at his feet and letting his cock loose.

You let little time pass between the moment you saw his cock and putting it into your mouth. You were hungry for touch, for affection, for sex, for companionship, and you were sure to show that in the form of his dick in your throat. It was as if somehow you hoped it could fill that strange void that had existed in you for far too long.

He thrust in tandem with your head bobbing while letting out groans and sharp breaths of pleasure that just told you that it had been a while for him too.

Thunder rolled in your dark room as you suppressed a gag and let your spit dribble down your chin. You were dripping with need at just the thought of sex.

As a brief flash of lightning lit the room, you swore you saw him in the chair in the corner of the room, legs crossed, watching you.

Could it have just been your imagination playing tricks on you? Could you have been just thinking about him? Was it what you wanted to see?

You closed your eyes as you took Namjoon deeper into your throat, letting the tip of your nose connect with his thin patch of pubes.

His hands tangled in the back of your hair.

"Can- can we have sex? Please? This feels too good to take this anymore."

You took him from your mouth and got into the bed on all fours. He took a moment to take your body and pose in for a moment, but once his brain seemed to function again he got behind you on the bed.

His fingers ran down the skin of your back almost making you shiver.

He yanked your underwear down around your thighs and ran his fingers along your soaking folds.

"No teasing, fuck me."

You heard an almost inaudible moan behind you before feeling his tip at your entrance.

The feeling of him slowly sinking into you, filling you, felt so nice after so long.

"Be rough with me."

"O-okay." He stammered and grabbed the back of your hair to pull on as he began slamming into you.

The skin of his thighs slapped at the meat of your ass over and over, but it somehow just wasn't enough.

"Harder, call me names."

"I won't- I can't call you names." He panted his refusal.

Thank god he was behind you so he couldn't see you rolling your eyes.

"Stop stop, stop."

His hips quit moving at once.

"Lay on your back." You had had enough and wanted to take this into your own hands.

One he pulled out and played down you straddled his hips, reaching down to guide his cock into your entrance before sinking down on it.

The moment you slowly moved your hips with him buried inside of you he began to moan. You picked up his hands and placed them on your breasts.

"What do you think, father?" Your voice dripped with seduction as you clenched around him.

"You're so- oh god- so beautiful."

"Wrong answer." You stilled your hips making him scramble for the right words.

"Your pussy is so wet… just for me."

"All for you." You began to move your hips again with the answer that satisfied you. Possibly to make sure they didn't stop again his hands drifted down to your hips to move them faster on his own. You couldn't help the loud moan that slipped out of your mouth at him taking control just a little.

"You take my dick so well."

"Fuck fuck." You chanted, moving your hips faster, feeling so close to losing it. You couldn't lie, the thought of him being a priest was really about to get you off right now.

"Such a bad girl." He murmured. Maybe he felt the same.

"Does it feel good being in the same cunt as the devil has been?" You teased.

You swore you heard a very short, unamused chuckle from somewhere in the room.

"Fuck yes, fuck I'm so close." He aggressively moved your hips now, his fingers digging into your flesh and finally making you cum.

"Up up"

You got off of him fast and watched ad his hand went around his cock to give it a few short jerks. His thick cum spurted from the tip. Coating his hand and shaft.

"I'll get you something to clean that up with." You climbed off of him as he quickly nodded.

"Darliiiiing"

You felt a hand on your thigh that woke you from your sleep.

"Wake up, I need you." Your face contorted in confusion at Namjoon's words.

"Too tired." You muttered into your pillow.

"But I'm so hard for you." His deep voice whispered in your ear sending tingles through your body.

"All I can think about is your wet little cunt of yours. I'll do whatever you want me to darling." His hand ghosted up your back until it came around and reached your neck where he left it

"Mmm." You hummed in satisfaction as you rotted your ass into his once again hard dick.

"You like that? Hm?" His voice was so thick and rough with sleep. "What if I squeezed just a little?" His fingers tightened slightly around your throat.

You were more than ready now for round two, it seemed he had found some courage between when you fucked earlier and now.

"Who does your pussy belong to, darling?"

"You." You whispered mixed with a moan. You needed him back inside of you so badly that you ached for it.

"You lying whore." His grip on your throat tightened, so much that it became almost impossible to breathe.

You struggled against his grip and tried to pry his hand from your throat.

"Your body and cunt belongs to the devil. Evil courses through your blood." You could hear the hate in his voice through his gritted teeth.

You tried to kick at him, hit him, but you could feel the tightness in your face and brain from lack of blood flow and oxygen.

"Stop, please." You attempted to choke out as your vision grew hazy.

"You belong in hell too."

You thrashed until there was no more pressure on your throat, your hands and feet collided with nothing.

You sat up in your bed covered in sweat. You were alone and once again your room was as hot as the pits of hell themselves.

You picked up your phone from the nightstand, almost blinding yourself with the light from it as you checked the time.

Namjoon had left hours ago. He had left upon your request.

"What the fuck." You sighed as you flopped back into your bed.

As you laid there the weight of reality seemed to feel heavier and heavier on your chest, crushing.

Your mother was dead, you had fucked a priest, the devil wouldn't leave you alone, and you had very little time before your son was gone forever.

Your bedroom felt too large, too spacious for your lonely body just as all of your problems did. Would you end up sucked into it all? Eaten alive? Was there any point in fighting at all?

You swallowed down the lump in your throat but it was no use. You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and leaked into your hairline as you stared up at your ceiling.

"Please" your word brought forth your sobs in the empty room "make it stop. I'll do anything but give up my son, just make it stop."

You couldn't help it, for weeks after your dream you felt weird around Namjoon. The rational part of your brain knew he wouldn't hurt you, although you still denied any little advances he made. It did fade, and once he took you out to dinner and you let him put his hand on your knee, but he was careful not to overstep boundaries.

You thought about calling him one night as you laid there sleepless in your bed. You don’t know how you had gotten so turned on but your body felt so hot with need.

You tried to just roll over and go to bed, but your sensitive clit throbbed along with your heartbeat as if begging you to touch it. Sny motion you made at all only made things worse until you gave in.

You pulled up your oversized sleep shirt and shoved a hand down your panties. You paused a moment as you realized that it wasn't just getting off you needed, but contact with someone.

You went to reach for your phone on the nightstand, but your hand didn't even meet it before you froze.

"Don't." It was a command.

Your eyes flashed to him sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, just like you thought you had seen him a month ago with Namjoon.

You quickly pulled your hand from your underwear and sat up with your mouth agape.

"Did you miss me, darling?" His horns tilted as his head did.

"Get out of my fucking house and leave me and my son alone!" You growled, clutching your shorts angrily in your fists.

"Why? So you can fuck that priest again?" He held up his index finger, slightly shaking it making a tsk-ing sound.

"Why does it matter to you what I do?" Your voice was stone cold.

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned forward in the chair with a smirk. You couldn't stop yourself from thinking how regal and utterly beautiful he looked. He looked far more casual this time in a black t-shirt and jeans, but nonetheless majestic and powerful.

"You must've forgotten. That's alright, I wouldn't mind reminding you. I'm not here for our son, don't worry, not just yet."

"Then let's talk about that."

"Talk?" He gave a little smile "we can talk. Come here."

Although you wanted to, almost needed to, you stayed in your bed.

"Then feel free to keep going… unless you want some help."

"Tell me why you're here." You demanded.

"I'm here to save you. You called me."

"I didn't." You argued.

He beckoned you over once more as he stood from the chair. You got out of bed this time and stepped closer.

"You've done nothing but try to get my attention for months. Don't argue, you know I'm right. I can hear it again, that delicate little heart of yours fluttering when you see me." He reached a hand out for you, you took it, it was just so warm in yours. You let him pull you in until your back faced his chest with his hands on your sides.

"You called me, see?" You closed your eyes as he whispered to you, your bodies swayed together in a nonexistent song. It felt as though he was pulling you deeper into a trance, and you let yourself go.

"Does that heartbeat for me? Do you live for me? Do you want me?" You felt his nose graze your neck, the hot air from his worst trailing behind it. You had dreams of this moment for years. His whispers, his touch, the way he made you feel drunk and hypnotized you, the way he made you feel whole.

"Yes." You couldn't lie, everything but the truth had melted away, you couldn't feel or speak much else. You were weak for him, weaker than you remembered.

"Then are you mine?"

"Yes." You answered once more.

"I'll talk to you my love, about whatever your heart desires. First, tell me what it is you want from me." He whispered as you felt him grip the hem of your sleep shirt at your thighs. His hands brushed your skin. You continued to sway with him, eyes closed, worried that if you opened your eyes that this would all be a dream, worried that if you looked at him you'd fall deeper.

You didn't want to say it, you didn't want to admit you wanted him right now. He had done so much to you. Your internal struggle was hard, you wanted him desperately, yet he had done so much to you and your family. Even your closed eyes couldn't hold back the tears that escaped.

"Why did you take her?" A single son escaped but you shut it down, you refused to show all of your weakness.

To your surprise, he gently shushed you.

"Darling, I didn't take her. Her soul was never mine to take. I don't decide who lives and dies, it was just her time."

You were stunned, why was he comforting you? Why did it feel so good?

"Please don't take our son, he's alI have now, he-"

"I've thought about so many things. We can talk later, no tricks, no lies. You don't need to worry. Just let them all fall away and tell me what you want."

You bit your lip as you felt his cock begin to twitch beside you.

"You already know I want you." Your voice was a soft, weak whisper.

"Yes, but do you want me to hold and comfort you? You've been struggling so much with that. Perhaps you want my cock buried so deep inside of you that it hurts. Or maybe you just want me to pump that belly full of a second baby."

His hand slid into your panties as you let out a gasp of excitement. Every nerve in your body felt hypersensitive, so when he slid his finger over your slit you cried out for him.

"All of it. Please, I want it all."

"What a greedy, needy little bitch. Did that boring god loving freak not satisfy you?" He teased as his finger dipped into your folds and teased at your clit.

"N-no." You stammered.

"You didn't look like you were having much fun, not until you saw me at least." He seemed so amused by it. "I'm a little mad you let him poorly use you like that" he seemed to growl making slight fear go down your spine. "Who fucks you better? Who has a bigger dick?" His finger circling your clit picked up speed with the ferocity of his words.

"You." Your breath was already short.

"Tonight, prove to me that you're mine, that you're devoted, that you'll do whatever it takes for me, And I'll show you I'm yours."

This wasn't happening, you couldn't believe the words he had just softly said into your neck. Your disbelief was cut off by your quickly approaching orgasm. You let out a whine as your knees turned to rubber, you would've fallen had he not have been holding you tightly against him.

"That's it darling, let me have you, let go for me." Your orgasm exploded through you like a bomb and all you could do was whine.

"Such a good girl." He still held you tightly and placed light kisses on your neck and collarbone as he took his tattooed hand from the front of your panties.

You let out a small shriek when he picked you up and carefully set you on the bed. He could've broken you in half right then and there, if he wanted to.

"On all fours, ass facing me."

You hurried into position for him, and for a while, you felt nothing until you felt the fiery sting of a slap along a cheek.

You sucked in a breath.

"What's the matter baby, can't take it for me?"

He was so wrong, you loved it.

"I'll take whatever you give me." Your words were followed by the pleasure of another slap.

"Fuck it." He muttered and suddenly you were dragged by your legs onto his lap where he positioned you over it.

"Take anything for me, huh? We'll see about that." The slaps kept coming until your ass felt raw. You arched your ass up for him as you let out a needy whine.

"You're so fucking wet, it's everywhere. Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you're whining for?"

You let out another whine.

"Say it."

"Please touch me. I want you to touch me."

"I'll give you what you want." You knew that tone he used, it was the tone of having something else planned.

His fingers immediately sunk into your core.

"You're wetter than I thought, I could slide whatever I wanted into you so effortlessly."

You could hear the sounds of his coated fingers working you too.

"Whatever you want." You replied hoping it was his cock, but you knew better at this point.

"My love, I'm going to absolutely fucking ruin you."

You went to reply but suddenly felt the slight stretch and sting of more fingers entering you.

"Ahhhh." You let out but backed up further onto his hand, still wanting more.

"What a good little whore, look at you riding my hand and taking it all for me."

You loved the pain, and he gave it to you like no one else could. You were already ruined for anyone else, but he didn't know that.

His hand felt so deep inside of you that you swear you could feel it in your stomach.

"Harder." You begged, and he obliged.

"You like me filling you like this, slut? I'm going to stretch your pussy so well for my big cock."

You continued to rock backward in tandem with his movements, it didn't take long at all until you were almost there, panting and gripping the sheets.

He stopped and slowly pulled his hand from your cunt, leaving you feeling more hollowed out than a pumpkin.

You left his lap and looked at him just in time to see his shirt come off. His body was just as beautiful as you remembered it, something of pure art and fantasy combined. Tattooed, muscular, and smooth you just wanted to lick every single inch of him, you had to.

You climbed back into his lap and pushed him back while you leaned forward and placed your lips to the very warm flesh of his collarbone. Your lips made their way down slowly to his nipples and enveloped one in your mouth.

"Ah." A sound of surprise and pleasure came from him, and you loved it, you loved that you could make him feel that way, you wanted more.

You took your mouth from his chest and crawled backward until you sat between his legs.

You undid his pants and pushed his underwear down along with him. You had almost forgotten just how massive his cock was. It was veiny and the tip was a blushed shade of pink that made your mouth water.

You spit in both your hands and wrapped them both around his shaft.

You slid your spit slicked hands over his leaking head before slowly bringing then down to the base.

"Faster darling. Don't play with me." He threatened with a grunt. You did as he asked and even added your mouth.

His hands tangled tightly in your hair at once.

It was hard to take him even halfway into your mouth without you gagging around his size and thickness filling your throat.

As you sucked his dick, you stared at the three black sixes on his lower stomach and watched as they moved as his muscles flexed.

"What I wouldn't give to cum down your throat right now."

You moaned around his cock at the desperation and lust in his voice.

"So fucking good for me. You suck my cock so well with your little whore mouth." He gripped your hair tighter but still not enough to hurt.

Him lying there, moaning and groaning as you pleased him made you all the more impossibly wet, you could feel it as you squeezed your thighs together.

"Please come here." He asked as he released your hair and sat up.

As you let his cock leave your mouth and too sat up only for him to lift and drag you onto his lap once again. He reached down and guided his cock into your entrance.

As you lowered yourself onto him he made a noise that should've stopped your heart.

It was a moan and a sigh all at once, he combined that with dropping his head onto your shoulder. The fullness and warmth of his cock inside of you, every little move he made, he was all just too much. How could you survive something like this a second time, especially with being this close to him.

He didn't move even an inch for a moment, not until he lifted his head off of your body and peered at you with those inky black eyes through his just as inky dark hair.

His net movements were fast, rough, and hard. He grabbed your hair from behind, forcing your head as far back as it could go without breaking anything. Your chest was arched towards him and he used it to his advantage by taking a nipple into his mouth as he bucked his hips into you quickly. All you could do was grip his shoulders for dear life as he fucked into you, fingernails sinking deeper and deeper into his muscular flesh the closer he pushed you to your high.

You felt the little sharp sting of him pinching your nipple between his teeth. You couldn't help but fall completely apart as you moaned out the filthiest curse words that you could.

Once he let your hair go and you could properly look at him, you saw beads of dark liquid forming on his shoulders. Your nails and grip had drawn blood, real human blood.

All you could do was stare. He bled just like you, he was vulnerable just like you, just like anyone else.

"Hm?" He caught your staring but seemed confused.

"I-I hurt you. I'm sorry." You furrowed your eyebrows with guilt.

He laughed, it was a real laugh, not a teasing one, not an unamused snort. His nose crinkled and his more prominent two front teeth were made more visible.

"It didn't hurt, I didn't even know you did it." He tried to get a look at the little droplets himself before wiping one away with his finger to show there was no mark left, he had somehow healed.

Each fleeting glimpse of his humanity vanished as soon as you spotted it.

His dick was beginning to soften inside of you despite him not getting off yet.

"Did you want to kiss it and make it better for me?" His voice was seductively playful and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not until he brought his blood-smeared fingertips to your lips.

You looked him in the eyes as you took them into your mouth and sucked them clean. He looked satisfied and you could feel his dick twitch back to life inside of you, showing you how much he liked that. Without a second thought, you attached your mouth to his shoulder and began to lick and cuck at the blood droplets where the wounds once were. The moment reminded you of when you were a child and they told you that wine was the blood of Christ, except this was so much better. You wanted to show him you were willing to take him in any way possible, to submit to every desire he had.

He pushed his now hard cock as far as it would go into you.

"I want to do something to you." He whispered as he continued to slowly thrust.

"Do it." Your reply was fast.

"It's going to hurt you." He added.

"Do it."

“I will. For now, shut up and bounce on my cock, slut.” his tattooed hand grabbed throat “ and you better fucking ride it harder and faster than you did that stupid Jesus loving freak.” his face read of disgust.

“Yes daddy,” you replied trying to hide the smirk at the satisfaction on his face from you calling him that.

He dropped his hand from your neck and you began to move your hips as he laid back. You would normally start slow, but you let him have it. Everything about him was incomparable to anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Fuck, like that baby.” His hair was messy, his eyes were squeezed shut and his tattoo that looked like a snake that wrapped around his torso almost looked like it was slithering.

“You like that daddy? I took every inch of your big cock just for you.” you loved the power over him that he was letting you have and you were going to make sure you got to enjoy it.

His hand shot to your hip and he squeezed.

“I swear If you fucking make me cum right now you’ll fucking pay for it,” he grunted obviously trying to hold back seeing as his hand was digging into your skin as if it was the last lifeline between him and losing it.

“Don’t you want to cum in my pussy daddy? Fill it full of cum and watch it drip out of me?” you continued to tease him and bring him even closer as you jackhammered up and down on his rock hard dick.

“Fuck, this is your last damn warning bitch.” his jaw was clenched, but it was too late, you were already falling apart on top of him, once again saying the dirtiest shit you could as he shuttered under you, barely hanging on as he watched you cum.

You paused, breathing heavily for a moment of rest, but it didn't last long. He was pulling out of you and throwing you face down on the bed, holding your hands by the wrists behind your back.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I?”

“Sorry, dadd-”

“Did I say you could speak bitch?”

He wasn’t even inside you anymore but you’re empty walls clenched as you let out a small moan onto the bed sheets.

“Now let’s see just how fucking much you’re willing to take. Be good for me darling.”

You were scared but excited at the same time, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins was nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

“Yes daddy.”

“Don’t fucking move.”

You listened and stayed completely still.

You felt his hand cover the back of your neck. It got warmer and warmer until it felt searingly hot, it was burning your skin. You bit down on your lip so hard it had to have left a bruise just to keep from screaming. There was no way of stopping the whimpers that came from you in the few seconds that his hand was on your skin.

“There,” he said and sounded as though he was admiring his work before releasing your body and letting you sit up. By the time you sat up though, the pain was entirely gone as if it had never even happened.

“It’s the mark, to match.” you knew he meant that he had just branded you with an upside-down cross to match his and your son’s. You were too busy noticing the wetness on your cheeks and wondering where they had come from to concentrate on this strange sentimental moment.

You felt something warm roll down your cheek and lifted a hand to wipe away what you now realized were tears, but he gently grabbed your wrist.

With his other hand went to your chin and guided your head to face him.

You were met face to face with him, his dark eyes peering into yours and also assessing your wet cheeks.

Both hands now went to your cheeks and his thumbs wiped over the wet mess on your skin.

He was trying to dry your tears.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” his voice was quiet. It was a glimmer of sincerity, a splinter of sweetness.

“I didn’t even feel it.” you joked but he didn’t buy it or laugh, instead he just continued to stare into your eyes with both hands on your face.

He leaned in so slowly, head tilting slightly and his lips met yours so gently. Your eyes closed and pressed your lips harder into his.

It was a sweet kiss but it held the strength and intensity of being punched in the stomach.

Your hands came up to roam the back of his shaggy, dark hair but your mind was elsewhere.

You imagined him as an average man, your son as a normal little boy, you imagined a family. Cuddling on the couch, touching him whenever you pleased, your son being able to play with his father, your life with him would never grow dull. However, your daydreams were dashed as your hand accidentally met with a horn.

What was wrong with you? You knew these things were stupid and unattainable, he was unattainable. Although you had known this fact from the start, here you were sleeping with him again. He fucked you over so hard, he was pure evil and you knew it, but yet here you were falling for him even harder. To be fair though, was there a soul living or dead that could resist him, that ever has been able to?

You pulled away, his hands left your face.

He looked at you with wide eyes, he looked almost shocked, scared. There was some kind of very deep feeling moment between the both of you, some kind of wordless exchange of revelations.

A million things you wanted to say to him flooded your mind at this moment. There were so many things you wanted answers to ”Do you know how miserable I was? Do you know what it felt like waiting for you in fear the entire time? Do you know how much I hate not being able to hate you? Do you know how bad it hurts me seeing your face in my son’s? Do you know how badly you ruined my entire adult life? Do you know how hurtfully perfect you look? Do you know how lucky and cursed I feel all at once? Do you feel any weight for the things you've done to me and my family?” but you were too scared this moment would end, that he would never come back, that he would take your son and leave. You wanted to cry, but you pushed the entire internal war out of your mind, you boxed it all away just to not ruin this moment.

During your thoughts and your stares at one another, his face had softened and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/n” you realized that it was the first time he had ever spoken your name out loud, and as beautiful as it had sounded coming from his lips, you didn't want to hear it spoken so guilt filled. “I’m so sor-”

"Are you going to make me cum again or not?" You broke the silence, and he seemed thrown off for a moment. You didn't know what he was apologizing for, but you didn't want to know. Not only did you want to shut this sad moment down just to have the fun back, but something inside of you hurt to hear and see him like this.

An expression you were familiar with him having flickered onto his face, a smirk. It relieved you and set the fire in your body back alight.

He tackled you with his hands wrapped around you. You were flesh to flesh, his lips moving to the space above your breasts, sucking hard before moving onto another are.

“Dont fuck anyone else.” it wasn't sharp like his normal demands, it was almost as if he was asking you not to without making it into a real question.

You almost snorted as he continued making an army of marks that continued to trail lower and lower.

You almost snorted sarcastically.

“Then who the Hell am I supposed to fuck?”

“Me, fuck me.”

You did sarcastically laugh at this one.

“Don't laugh at me.” he said defensively before sucking a new place by your belly button.

“What? Every few years you’ll swing by and I just have to wait until then?”

“No. Are you even enjoying this anymore or have you now set your focus on calling me out?” he looked up at you with an arched brow.

“Calling you out seems more fun right now.” you were only half joking, all of that hurt hfrom earlier was now festering back up to the surface upon hearing his stupid lies.

“I told you I’d talk, and I will. Trust me.” he sat up and looked down at you.

“I’ve trusted you before and that was shitty.” you argued.

“Then why the fuck are you fucking me now? Why the fuck are you letting me mark you? Why the fuck are you telling me you belong to me?” he shot back.

“BECAUSE I WANT TO PRETEND YOU'RE NOT… NOT...I DON’T KNOW...THE ACTUAL FUCKING DEVIL!” you whisper yelled at him through clenched teeth.

He came down over you and looked you in the eyes for a moment with such a look you thought he might kill you, but instead his voice was quiet and calm.

“If you think I’m incapable of feeling then you’re wrong, you're dead wrong. If I didn’t feel, then why would I want my son? Why have I been watching him grow, watching you love and take care of him and doing my best not to interfere with your time with him. I may not be mortal but I have feelings, I have empathy. Do you understand the shit I have to see and be in charge of? Do you know what it feels like to just want something so pure in good while living in something so fucked? Watching you and our son has been the only sliver of heaven that I’ve ever been able to have.” his arms were shaking as he held himself over you. You had never seen his body show any signs of tiredness or weakness, even his wounds had healed right up. He was shaken talking about this and it was obvious.

It hit you hard. Why would he want to take him? Why did all of this just make sense?

“So please, don’t take this away from me right now. Let me make you cum again, let me just have this for a little longer and we can talk.”

You were stunned. He had felt the same way, he wanted to drag this out just as much as you did, he wanted to cherish this. The question now in the air was, if you both wanted to be together, then why couldn't you?

You yanked him by the hair, forcing his lips to collide with yours. Your tongue clashed with his split one, but it no longer surprised you or made you nervous. While little about him was normal, what was normal anyway? From the moment you saw him as he really was you had thought he was perfect, so why until now had you been wishing for him to be the man you first saw at the bar? Was it because the puzzle piece of his humanity had been missing in an otherwise perfect puzzle?

Your teeth gnashed together as if you were young, new lovers blooming with anticipation, as if you had never touched before now, despite fucking for god knows how long already.

He bit at your already sore lip you had bitten down on, but he wasn't harsh.

“I want you.” you told him meaning more than just how he took it. He reached between both of you and pushed himself into your already abused core, you winced from the ache and the sensitivity.

“Close your eyes” his voice was so quiet you almost didn't hear his instruction.

You closed them though.

“Now imagine me like you.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Humor me.”

You did, you imagined him like he was the night of the bar, like you had thought of him earlier.

“Now run your hands through my hair.”

With your eyes still closed, you felt for his hair before coming them through the soft, wavy strands. Your eyes opened just to make sure what you were feeling was correct. As you looked at his hornless head, his brown eyes looked down at you. Now you properly looked him in the eyes and now that you could see his irises, you knew now that he was looking right at you, not just at you though. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen with a small smile of amusement.

“I just wanted to have this moment with you, like you. I thought it would mean something to you to not have to look into cold, black pits.”

The man looking and speaking to you right now was not the devil, he wasn't horrible or evil but neither was the man he was before but you were yet to know why he did the things he did.

You lifted your neck this time to kiss him and his lips chased yours as you laid back onto the pillow. He once again slowly began to thrust, short breaths and quiet moans escaped you both. Your legs entangled around his hips, angling your own body so he could hit just the right place.

“Be with me.” his voice shook as he continued to thrust “I’ll do anything.” he sounded just so weak as if he were pleading.

“I’m already yours, don't pretend you don't know that.”

“Let's have a family then, I’ll stay.” he rested his forehead on top of yours, his eyes were closed, hips still moving hard cut slow as if with each powerful but passionate thrust was a chance to convince you to be with him.

“As-” you could feel yourself coming closer and struggling harder to catch your breath. “As long as you stay.” You knew it, if he went away, if you lost him tonight, nothing would ever feel this good again, you'd never feel this complete for as long as you lived.

“Let's start now on expanding.” you could see his slight smile before his voice turned serious and sultry.” want me to put another baby in you?”

“Please, fuck I’m so close.”

“Come on baby, cum for me one more time.” he picked up the pace with his hips up just a little more. “Let me get you pregnant again.”

He only thrust into you a few more times before you were coming undone underneath him.

“Fuck, I love you fuck fuck fuck.” you moaned as he also let go, burying himself deeper than he already had been.

“I love you, I love you too.” he messily kissed your lips as you felt his last few pumps slow.

Only when he had said it back did you realize you had said it at all.

You were still breathing heavily as he pulled out and laid down next you. There was silence between you, for a while as you both recovered.

"I said I would talk so here it is."

You decided to just lay there and listen to him.

"I've always known we were supposed to be together, always. There are things I just know, I can't explain it, sometimes I just know destiny and sometimes I don't until certain events happen. Ever since I became the king of hell I've always known that eventually there would be one woman that would bring me to my knees. They call her Lilith, although that's not her name just as satan, the devil, whatever, isn't mine. There have been stories and mythology written about you that just aren't true, much like everything else in my life. When I met your mother, I knew I was fucked. So I stopped you from being able to conceive, how was I supposed to know I was only helping destiny along? When you summoned me I was nervous, although curious as to what you would be like, I never watched you until you began to work on summoning me. I developed a plan. I thought if I just gave you what you wanted and then took it away from you then you would hate me, you would never want to see me again, but yet again I plated into destiny. The moment I saw my son… when I watched you care for him and love him, I-I felt this longing. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to be with you both. I kept my distance and fought against the urge to just drop in and tell you how I felt. I resented you for the power you held over me, but at the same time I wanted to give you your space and let you have your time with him. I was still going to take him but at that point it was out of love. I knew you were still angry with me anyway, rightfully so, I also thought… that you couldn't love someone like me anyway, you were better off with a mortal and I wanted to let you live your life. I watched your pathetic attempts to protect our son from me, at least you thought you were only trying to protect him. You're a good mother, just like yours was. When our son was really little I used to sneak into his nursery and just hold him and stare at him, I could see you in him. The point where I knew I had to step in was the priest. Not only did he treat my son like his, not only did you fuck him and make me jealous but-"

He abruptly wet quiet just as the anger in his voice seemed to pick up.

"I'm sorry." You replied.

"It's not that, it's not any of that that makes me hate him, it's not my jealousy." He still didn't say what it was, but instead he got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" You sat straight up.

"I'm going to shower if that's okay." He replied as he shuffled for the bathroom attached to your room.

"Sure." He was already in there by the time you uttered out your dumbstruck reply.

He had said he would stay, you don't know why him doing average things in your home just astounded you.

You laid back in the bed with the reassurance of him planning to stay and you thought about it all.

At first you asked yourself what your mother would think of this, what she would say. Maybe if she knew everything that he had just told you she simply wouldn't say anything at all. She had been able to love the devil's son and see him for just the little boy he really was, so maybe she would've done the same for the devil himself had she really known him.

You were beginning to feel uncomfortable with the stickiness of his speed leaking out and smearing all over your thighs.

Some part of you was nervous to go into the bathroom with him showering in there, but it was your house.

You ran to the bathroom as fast as it could to keep the cum from dripping everywhere and making a mess on the floor.

You paused as you caught a glimpse of his silhouette through the shower curtain.

His horns had returned, but you didn't look at him as much as his overall shape, you could help your staring.

"I hear your heart again, are you looking at me?" He chuckled and your eyes went wide with the horror of being caught.

"I…"

"Do you want in here with me?"

"...y-yes?"

"Get in, I promise to just let you shower, no funny business." He offered.

He kept his word though, he did his own thing in the shower and so did you. He did look jarringly beautiful with the water beading on his tattooed skin and muscles, but you didn't know how much more your body could physically handle of him so you kept your hands to yourself.

He got out of the shower before you, you were a little concerned at the silence so you got out soon after.

You found a fresh towel and pajamas waiting for you on the bathroom sink so you quickly dressed.

He just sat there in a white t-shirt and black sweat pants at the foot of your bed. His head was down and he looked to be in deep thought as he stared at the floor. He looked a little sad.

"Have you seen him since you've been here?" You asked curiously, making him finally look up and shake his head.

"Would you like to?"

He seemed shocked by your offer.

"I wouldn't want to wake him…"

"It's alright, he's a good sleeper, he'll go back to bed… if you want to that is."

"I really really want to, I haven't seen him person to person since he was a newborn."

You led him down the hall and pushed open your son's cracked bedroom door.

His night light dimly lit the form of his little body snuggled in his toddler sized bed.

You let his father take a few apprehensive steps into the room, slowly approaching him before he knelt on the floor by the bed.

You just looked on at the little moment.

He gently pushed his son's shaggy hair from his sleeping face, but caused him to stir.

"Daddy?" You heard your son's sleepy voice ask. You had no idea how he knew it was his father, and from the look on his father's face, neither did he.

"Hey buddy."

Your son sat up and threw his arms around his father's neck, who promptly picked him up and stood. He wrapped his arms around the little boy, holding him close.

"How did you know it was me?"

Your son unwrapped his arms from his father and looked at his face.

You saw his lips begin to quiver and his eyes fill with tears as he started to break down.

"Oh no." You whispered as you saw your boy stare at the horns on his father's head.

"Your horns are scaring him." You whispered.

Your son patted the top of his own head as he sobbed in his father's arms.

"Me too, I too."

"Oh." You said as you realized that your son was answering his dad.

"You have them too? That's how you knew, huh?"

Your son nodded to his father and began to cry harder. His dad pulled him back into his body, lightly shushing him and patting his back. He buried his head in the little boy's hair much like you had the day in your car after he was horrifically baptized.

The moment hit you like a train.

He had missed his father all this time, and you had no idea.

"you know I'm always with you, right? You and mommy both."

Your son nodded into his father's neck, soaking his shirt with tears although his father didn't seem to mind at all.

"I know you hear me sometimes. You know I'm here."

Your son pulled away from him again to look at him.

"Daddy-" his words were cut off by upset hiccups from crying so hard "no leave."

"I'm not. I'll stay, I promise."

His father knelt back down on the floor and attempted to lay the boy back in his bed, but his little hands stayed locked around him.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and all of the rest of the days when you wake up from now on, you can let go, I'll be right here."

Your son finally relinquished his hold on his father who pushed more hair from his son's face.

"And mommy?" Your son's eyes look at you now.

"Mommy has always been here, silly." His father then spoke something in a strange language, it might've been the one from your dream after your son was born.

Your son gave his father a nod not just as if he understood, but he did understand this very strange language. You had never heard your son speak it, and you had no idea that he even knew a whole other language, until he spoke it back to his father.

He sat there knelt beside his son's bed until he drifted off to sleep. You watched as he gave him a kiss on his forehead before standing and turning to face you.

You walked into the hall and closed your son's bedroom door when he looked at you with a look of concern.

"There's still more I have to tell you, it's the most important thing."

"You're going to have to trust me, okay?" He asked from his seat on the sofa beside you. "There are things I know and things I don't, you have the power to change destiny, and right now what I'm seeing is someone is going to try to take you away from us, from your family."

"Okay," you tried to patiently follow, ready for him to say anything.

"Namjoon is going to kill you."

"Why's he going to kill me?"

"I had this deal with his whore grandmother… she wasn't happy with it, it wasn't my fault. It's not my fault mortals are idiots."

"Hey." You firmly snapped at him.

"It's just what I do, I teach lessons. Anyway, I believe Namjoon is going to hurt you and maybe even our son. He can't physically harm me, I'm immortal, but he can hurt the things I care about. Unfortunately, I can't kill him either, I can't kill humans, God's rules. So I can't stop him, there's nothing I can do but pass this to you. It doesn't matter what you do, Namjoon will hunt you down."

"Okay." You simply just sat there looking calm on the outside but terrified on the inside.

"So, y/n… I think it's kill or be killed in this case. If you die, I'm not sure how much I can do to protect our son but take him with me…"

To hell was what he meant.

You let out a sigh as you stared at the floor and scraped together some kind of plan.

"Take my soul." You offered.

"Why?"

"In case something happens to me, take my soul." You were sure of your decision.

"I'm not taking your soul." He declined.

"Why?" It was your turn now to ask.

"Do you want to go to hell? Do you realize how many eternities you would be tortured down there before I ever found you?"

"No." You answered both questions and seemed less sure of your offer now.

"I'm not taking your soul. Our son could come and go with me because he has that power, but you, a pure mortal… you would be in more pain than you could ever imagine."

"But if I killed a man… wouldn't I go anyway?" You pointed out.

"Not if it was out of self defense for you and your family."

"What the fuck am I saying?! I can't kill father Namjoon!" You realized.

"Y/n, I know he's going to kill you, and I don't want to lose you, I'd do anything not to lose you. What about our son? What about our second child?"

Your mouth dropped open.

"Second child? It-we…?"

"It's not just you living in that mortal body anymore. I know, just like I did the moment I gave you our son. You have to live, you have to do this, you have to trust me." He reached for your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. "I love you and I need you here with us."

"How do I do it?" You gave in.

You were terrified as the phone rang.

You had just left your son with the babysitter and you sat in your car. You were alone but you felt him near you.

"Hey!" Namjoon's voice came through cheerfully and it made you feel sick.

"Hey, I'm not doing so great tonight. Everything is a bit heavy and I kind of want some fresh air. Would you go for a walk with me at the park? I know it's late but…"

"Of course. The one closest to where you live, right? I'll meet you there in a few."

You thanked him before hanging up.

"I'm sorry you have to do this." He appeared right beside you in the passenger's seat now, but you didn't look at him, instead you spaced out while looking out the window at the dark park. You were nervous, you were trying to ready yourself, you were trying to wrap your head around this situation.

"What happens after? What do I do right after?" You asked.

"I'll take care of everything. No one will know." The grim thought of what that entailed was shadowed by reassurance of only having one task to do. "You just wait in the car, I'll drive us home. I'll take care of you."

"What if he sees this opportunity to kill me like I do with him?" You asked with your hands shaking in your lap.

"I think he would wait for a moment when our son is with you, pick you off at the same time."

Your mouth was dry, but you still tried to swallow down the weight of his words.

"But what if I die? You said you don't know all things." You continued to think your worries out loud.

"I also said people can change destiny, they do it all the time."

"You haven't been able to." Your point made him go silent a moment. It was true, he had been fighting against his destiny with you since before you were born only to end up with you.

"Part of me didn't want to change it, even if I hated it at first. I've always wanted you. The first time I saw you I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away from you. The first time you saw me, I just wanted you to look at me that way forever, I didn't care about anything anymore and that was scary. You're my Lilith, my eternal soulmate, there was never any fighting you. There's nothing more powerful than what we have, not me, not god himself."

"What if you're tricking me?" You asked abruptly.

"You really think I would?" His voice sounded hurt and you could feel him looking at you as you said nothing "of course you do, of course you'd think that after what I've done and because of who I am." His voice was soft now like he had accepted that option "I wish I could take back what I did to you, everything I've done to you. I wish I never would've made that deal with your mother, I wish you would've had a family with a normal man, a normal life… what have I done?"

"Like you said" you sighed "it was supposed to happen anyway, it's not all on you. I've suffered for you, and now I'm going to kill for you. Would I be doing that- any of this if I really thought you were tricking me?" You admitted. "Maybe I'm just blinded by you, so in love with you and wanting a family with you that I can't see anything else, you're the devil, it's probably what you do, but what other option do I have anyway?"

"We could go home." He offered softly. "We could have our family and play pretend until it's ripped away." You could hear him swallow louder than his soft words."Then I'll have nothing, but at least I would've had everything for just a fraction of a moment in my eternal life."

"I'm not going to live forever anyway you know, our son might, but I'm human. I die, and when I do I'm destined to be tortured in hell for eternity."

"You're not going to hell."

"How do you know?" You asked partially out of curiosity "I'm in love with Satan, I bare his mark, I bared his child. How much more sinful can I be? You can't sit there and tell me Satan's soulmate is going to heaven."

"God has never let me have anything. If he decides it's your destiny and your time to go, if you're taken from me and I can't have you in life, he's not going to let me have you in death." He explained.

You sat there thinking about what he said and came to the very real conclusion that you were most likely going to die tonight. God wouldn't let him have you, he had already seen that Namjoon would kill you, you were going to die.

Your eyes began to fill with tears as everything finally began to sink in.

"Please take care of our son."

"Don't." He snapped at you "Don't you say that shit like I'm going to lose you."

You began to sob, you weren't listening to him.

"You're going to go out there and fuck him up and that's going to be the end of it." His voice was stern, but you were falling apart. You let your head fall onto the steering wheel.

"Why wont you just take my fucking soul?!" You cried in despair and frustration "you have every single fucking thing in my life but that, just take it god damn it! Take it and let me burn until you find me. I will obviously go through anything for you and our son at this point. Just fucking take it."

"You don't deserve it. I don't deserve you, okay? I've fucking destroyed your life, I'm not dragging this into the timeless afterlife, no matter how badly it hurts. We have one single shot, and this is it. I'm fucking horrible, I'm the worst of the absolute worst, but there’s no way I'm going to be that selfish to let you rot in hell because of me."

"Please?" Your voice was a desperate squeak as you finally turned to him. "Fuck." You uttered at what you saw.

There was a dark liquid running from his pitch black eyes and down his cheeks.

"Is-is that fucking blood? Are you crying blood?"

You watched as it pooled at his chin and dropped onto his white shirt.

"Please do everything you can tonight." He ignored your question and begged you.

If you had a doubt that he loved you before, you didn't now. You watched as he closed his eyes.

"God," he began, he didn't seem as though he was talking to you at all "just let me have this, please? I'll do anything. Just let me have my family."

The dark car was suddenly illuminated by headlights coming from behind. You turned to see a car pulling into the parking lot.

"I'll be with you." He spoke as Namjoon parked beside your car.

The passenger's seat was empty when you looked back.

This was it.

You felt for the pocket knife you had put in your pocket upon leaving the house and your adrenaline began to rush through your body.

You willed your weak legs to get out of the car.

You forced a half-hearted smile but did your best not to look him in the eyes.

It was quiet at first as you both started down the dark trail.

"Don't get offended, but you look terrible."

You hadn't slept since you had gotten your mission yesterday night, your mind felt fried and stressed and tired.

"It's been hard." You were honest about how you felt.

"Why is your lip bruised? Did you get hit?" He pried as you thought back to how hard you had bit it the other night.

"No, I did it, by accident." Although it was the truth, you wouldn't have believed it either with the way you had said it.

"Are-are you seeing anyone? It's been a few days since we talked and-"

"No." You lied quickly.

"If there's anything I can do to help you or your son… I know things are still rough for you…"

"We'll be okay."

He gave you a strange look.

"You're not still worried about… him?" You could hear the suspension in Namjoon's voice and you knew you had to say something to extinguish it for now.

"I am, I just don't know what's left to do, I feel so hopeless." You said as you saw the path begin to lead into a more wooded area ahead.

"Don't you feel him right now?" Namjoon asked.

"He's always just… around, I'm used to it. Maybe it's just me at this point."

"What's that on your neck?" He reached out to see.

You had to do it now, you felt like your mark had given you away.

You stepped back out of his grasp as you quickly took the knife from your pocket and flipped it open. You didn't know if he had time to see it or not before you lunged at him.

He had put his hands up to stop you but the force you had come at him sent him toppling backward.

You went to plunge the knife into his neck only to feel his hand around your wrist stopping you.

He yelled for help but there wasn't another soul at the park, you had been here awhile waiting, you would know.

You used your other hand to help overpower him, but he was still stronger even with all of this adrenaline and chemicals coursing through your body, even with the image of your family in your mind.

"Stop!" Namjoon yelled at you, but this was too far gone to stop now, your mind was already made up. You knew that if you stopped now then you would be the one who died.

Your arms were beginning to grow tired and your strength was weakening and because of that he was able to shift the point of the knife towards you.

In one last burst of strength you tried to switch the knife's direction back towards him but your muscles just gave out.

You didn't feel the pain of the plunge into your chest at first, but you felt the crack of your ribs at the sheer force. You were in shock, it didn't feel at all like you had just been stabbed. You let go of Namjoon and rolled over onto the cool grass as you tried to process everything.

You could hear Namjoon panicking, sitting over you, trying to help you, it was confusing.

Why was he trying to help you? He wanted you dead.

"Please? Where are you?" You choked out. It was hard to breathe, you felt like you were drowning as you looked up at the stars.

"Get away from her." It was the only voice you wanted to hear, it had brought you some kind of peace.

You saw Namjoon look at something with wide eyes before leaving your line of vision. His quick footsteps on the ground you lay on got further and further away.

You continued to choke and gasp.

Jungkook watched in the distance as the knife was turned on you and the blade disappeared in your chest.

It hadn't hurt until now. It was as if you were his voodoo doll. He had never felt pain before, but once he felt the sting, he knew exactly what it was, although his pain came from the inside. Until now he had been watching coldly, waiting for this to happen, knowing you would die.

You had to die, there was no other way you'd let him have his son, there was no way you'd let your son end this world. You were too compassionate, too human, too emotional. You were all the things Jungkook never thought he was. Perhaps you completed him in many ways he only was now able to realize.

He was able to fool you so well, tell you all the sweet things you needed to hear to lead you to your own demise. But why did it only now hurt him? Had it been so easy to lie to you because maybe somewhere deep down in his unbeating heart he knew that maybe you really were the one? He felt as though that as you laid there dying, that you were forcing your most human parts into him, you were cursing him.

He had never actually thought you were his Lilith, his soulmate, not until now as he watched you bleeding out and physically felt it. He felt the weight of every sweet thing and lie he had ever told you pressing on his chest. Your face, the sweet moments, holding you, the guilt of never telling you his name, everything flashed before him. He wondered for a moment if he was dying too.

"I have given you a gift, the gift to feel.Your heart is broken, child. Go to her, be with her in her last breaths before I bring her home."

It wasn't even a voice that Jungkook heard, but it wasn't in his head either. He knew who was speaking to him. He suddenly felt enraged. He wasn't going to let God take you away from him.

"Get away from her." Jungkook boomed making the silly mortal that was panicking over you run at the sight and power of his voice.

Jungkook knelt down beside you and watched as the blood flowed from the corners of your mouth and tears streamed from your eyes.

"He's not going to take you from me! God damn it! Please don't take her!" Jungkook knew you wouldn't go to hell, god himself had said so. You did nothing wrong, you had been fooled by him just like Eve had been, and Eve still went to heaven when she died. He would never see you again and it hit him harder than anything ever had before.

Jungkook lifted his hand, the one he hadn't unknowingly slipped through your fingers, and produced a flame which gave way to a scroll of paper.

He pulled you into his lap as you continued to choke. He put your hand to your wound and dipped your fingers into your blood.

"It's okay, it's going to be fine, please just sign it, you have to move, sign it." He let go of your hand but it was limp. There was no more choking, only a faint rattling coming from you now.

"Please please just sign the paper." He begged. "I'm so sorry, I was wrong, I did this and I'm so sorry. It hurts so badly, sign the paper, I need your soul, I need to find you."

Silence.

There was no hummingbird heartbeat, there was no heartbeat at all as he looked into your empty eyes that still looked back at him. Your body lay in his lap with the mark he had given you, but you were gone.

“But I love you...” it was the first time in his existence that he had said it and meant it. You had never known he didn't mean it, you had never known everything he did was a lie, maybe it was best that way. Despite not feeling any of it before, he felt it now, all at once. If he could do it all over again just to mean it, just to experience those feelings along with you he would. He would have held you longer, cried more, he wouldn't have ever let you do this, he wouldn't have fed you those dreams and lies and he would have protected you. Namjoon never wanted to hurt you.

All Jungkook wanted to do now was hold you, so he did until you grew cold. It wasn't fair he only got to feel this after you were gone as punishment. He wanted to go back, he wanted to start over, but it was too late. What kind of cruel god would gift him with his now?

His chest continued to sting, as his anger continued to fester. He hated everything, God, Namjoon, himself, this horrible fucking mortal world.

He was going to burn it all. He never wanted to make another deal with any human ever again.

Whilst he couldn't touch these stupid fucking humans, his son could, he was half human.

This wasn't supposed to happen for another few years. He didn't think his son was old enough just yet, but it would have to do, he was still naive enough to destroy humanity on his father's command. All he had to do was show his son what he was capable of, fill him with rage for his dead mother, and watch the world burn. All Jungkook knew was fire and destruction, now his son could learn as well, both of them with a bitterness in their hearts.

Jungkook let out a loud scream of anger and frustration and all of these new feelings that he didn't want that felt like they were internally ripping him apart.

The entire park was sent up in flames, including your body.

The end was coming early for this world, it was over. He was going to destroy every last one of God's precious creations for making him feel like this.

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Little Shit:

Part 1: Wrapped Around A Finger

This is for week 96 of @wackydrabbles prompt: I can't -- I have a deadline. Prompt will be in bold.

Okay, so I couldnt fit all of this into the 2000 word limit and had to break it up and didn't have the heart to cut.

@kingliam2019 you made a request for a Little Shit story on New Year’s Eve and it only took 5 months to come up with something, so this one is for you.

If you're unfamiliar with the Little Shit series (because it has been over a year since I wrote anything for it) Nikolas is Liam and Riley's 5 year old mischievous son who just can't help from wreaking havoc, especially toward Drake. He enjoys getting a rise out of him even if he does love his Uncle ... for the most part.

Warning: Crude Language. Mention of Covid and vaccinations.

Word count: 1928

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

Returning from the stables one afternoon, Drake was stopped at the palace door by security -- again -- for not wearing the required mask to enter.

“Mr. Walker, I’m afraid you need to have a mask on before I can allow you inside. I have to tell you this every day.”

“That because I fucking live here,” Drake grumbled as he snagged the offered surgical mask from the guard.

“Not in the common areas, Mr. Walker.”

“You know this whole virus thing is just a conspiracy and Liam is using it to control all of us, right? He’s gone mad. This shit’s never gonna end.”

“I understand, sir.” The guard waited patiently as Drake begrudgingly slipped the mask over his face. “Perhaps, though, there is an alternative, one where you wouldn’t have to wear one anymore. They’re offering free vaccines in room 105 today. If you get the shot, you won’t need to wear a mask when you come inside,” the guard cajoled.

Drake let out a humorless laugh.“I’m sure that’s exactly what Liam wants: make a guinea pig out of me. Pump me full of that radioactive shit and in five years I’ll have a tail growing out of my face. No thanks.” Drake disregarded the information and moved past the man.

“But, sir .. .they’re giving away bottles of whiskey to the first 100 recipients. Last I heard, they were close to reaching that number. Top of the line stuff too.”

Drake turned on the heel of his work boots, glaring back, before asking skeptically. “Whiskey? They’re giving away alcohol to get this damn shot?” The guard nodded in response.

“Glenfiddich -- 1955, I believe. The King paid for it himself.”

Drake’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s a $90,000 bottle! And they’re just giving them away if you get this shot?”

“I … um … yes. His Majesty wants to reward those who are doing their part to create a healthier and safer Cordonia. He won’t rest until every last citizen is vaccinated from this dreaded virus. We can all fight this … together. What do you say, Mr. Walker? Will you help stop the spread?”

“For a $90,000 bottle of whiskey? Hell yeah! I’ll grow two tails out my heads for -- hold on a damn minute …” Drake burrowed his eyes into the guard who was sweating bullets, desperate for him to leave. “Where the hell is Nikolas at? This whole thing reeks of him..” Drake’s eyes began darting around the perimeter in a feverish search for the little prince’s battery operated car. “That little shit is blackmailing you, isn’t he? I should have known.”

The guard straightened and answered in a solemn tone, “I’m a serious professional, Mr. Walker. And I take your accusations of being anything but, demeaning to the loyalty and oath I’ve given to the Crown. How dare you stand there --”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” Drake ran a hand down his weary face in frustration. “It’s just that kid is the bane of my existence. I’ve had a long, hard day at work and I’m in no mood for his fucking stunts.”

The guard waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve heard all about the stuff he’s pulled on you.” He leaned in closer and spoke in a hushed tone, “Between you and me, he’s a little pain in my ass too; always coming down here acting like he runs this place. If you ever need help teaching that kid a lesson, I’d be happy to help.”

Drake arched a brow. “Loyalty to the crown, huh?” The man regarded that retort with an awkward shrug. “Yeah, he needs his ass busted, that’s for sure. Liam thinks he just needs a little more love. I’d like to show him the Bianca F. Walker way of love.” He slammed his hands together.

The guard chuckled. “I’m with you on that. He needs something done; he’s out of control … Anyway, you should probably head on up there and get your shot -- and whiskey -- before they’re all out. I wish I’d have waited to get mine until today.”

Twisting his face in doubt, Drake walked around the corner and leaned up against the wall as he pulled out his phone. Something just didn’t feel right, and he determined the safest thing to do was shoot off a quick text to his best friend.

Drake: Liam, are you really giving away Glenfiddich, 1955, to get the Covid vaccine?

He waited a brief moment until a response came through; he looked down at his phone and read:

Liam: Yes.

Drake: Is that all you have to say about that?

Liam: Yes.

Liam: I am in meeting for Cordonia.

Drake tilted his head to the side and scratched at it as he stared at the odd message. He typed out another response.

Drake: What kind of meeting for Cordonia? And with who?

Liam: Top secret. Can't tell you.

Drake: Uh-huh. Where’s Nikolas?

Liam: With Riley and baby in Vallteria

Liam: Shit. Valtoria

Drake: What’s the capital of the United States?

Liam: Damn it Drake I’m in a meeting!

Drake: Then hurry up and answer

Liam: Washington D.C.

Drake: Who shot me at the costume ball?

Liam: You son of a bitch. IM IN A MEETING!

Drake let out a heavy groan and decided to just call Riley. He knew without a doubt Nikolas took Liam’s phone again. If he called Riley, though, there was no way the boy could pretend he was her.

Picking up almost instantly, Riley answered cheerfully, “Hello. Queen Riley speaking.”

“Riley, it’s Drake. I was just wondering if you and Liam were really giving away whiskey for getting this shot? Sounds a little fishy to me.”

There was a moment of silence, then a clicking noise, followed by a long beep, before Riley replied. “Yes. We. Are. Giving. Away …. Whiskey. Get.The.Shot.Drake.”

“The hell is wrong with your voice?”

“I.Am.In.Valtoria.”

“Riley, why the fuck are you enunciating every word?”

“I. Have. A. Cold. And. Must.Talk.Slow. Nikolas.Is.With.Me. And. I. Must. Get ... Going. Bye. Drake ...You. Ass. Hole.”

Drake rolled his eyes and slipped the phone in his back pocket. “He’s got her phone, too. Damn that evil-ass kid.” He hesitantly made his way down to room 105; it wouldn’t hurt anything just to open the door and see if there was anything legit about this. As he approached, a lovely lady he knew from the kitchen exited with a big smile on her aging face and a bottle she cradled in her arms; he recognized it almost instantly as the Glenfiddich.

“Miss Milly,” Drake greeting kindly and held the door open for her. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“Oh, you.” She laughed bashfully in her grandmotherly voice as she stepped into the corridor. “You’re always flirting with me, Drake. One of these days, I’m going to make you take me out on a date, buy me dinner, and give me a peck on the cheek at the end of the night.”

Drake smiled back fondly at her. “You just tell me when, Miss Milly, and I’m there.” He motioned to the bottle in her hand. “Say … couldn’t help but notice that bottle of whiskey you’re carrying around; where’d you get that at? That brand doesn’t come cheap.”

“Ohhh, I know. But I heard they were giving shots in that room right there.” She pointed with a crooked finger. “And they said I was the 99th person to stop by, and gave this to me after getting my shot. I couldn’t believe my luck. And they only have one bottle left. I can finally put my grandson through college.”

“That’s great! And you said there is still one more bottle left?”

She nodded her head. “Yes. But you better hurry. One of the chefs is on his way here for a shot as well.”

Drake hurriedly kissed her on the cheek and opened the door. Thank you, Miss Milly!” He stepped inside, then stopped and whipped his head back out the door. “Milly, wait. Have you seen Prince Nikolas today?”

“Yes, he left with the Queen after breakfast this morning. I believe they mentioned going to Valtoria.”

Drake rubbed his hands together anxiously and thanked her. He’d known the cook for years, she’s the sweetest person he knew. There was no way she would cover for Nikolas, and Drake couldn’t imagine the boy would have any dirt to hold over her head.

When the door shut, Nikolas grinned mischievously from a dark alcove where he was parked in his black 12V Mercedes Benz S63. “This is the day I’ve been waiting for.”

He set his laptop and both parents' phones in the passenger seat and slowly pulled out. He paid $100 to Milly and asked her to put the bottle back in his father’s liquor cabinet and rolled a few paces to room 105.

======

After filling out medical forms, the palace doctor ushered Drake behind a curtain where a long rectangular table and folding chair sat. Taking the seat, Drake watched the doctor slip on a pair of gloves and pull a small tube of lube out of his lab coat pocket. Drake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Heh. What’s the lube for?” he chuckled lightly. “I’m just here for a shot, man. Nothing else is going in me.”

“Just relax, Mr. Walker. It’s all part of the process.” A squirt of clear liquid was squeezed onto the doctor's two gloved fingers as he held them up. “On your medical forms you denied having a physical exam in the past year. I just need to do a quick exam and check for rectal polyps.”

Drake started laughing in amusement, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve got to be shittin' me. So let me get this straight. I can’t get a shot until you stick your fingers in my ass to check for ‘polyps?’ Yeah, that’s happening. What a bunch of horse malarky.”

The doctor let out an annoyed huff. “I see you didn’t read over the information forms. They never do,’ he mumbled. “Look, if you want me to wait here all day while you figure out what to do, I can’t -- I have a deadline to finish here. Now if you’ll move along, I have another patient waiting; you’re free to go.”

And Drake knew he was. But that expensive bottle of Glenfiddich was calling his name. He glanced over to that one last beautiful bottle sitting atop a desk on the far side of the room, calling his name. Selling it for even half of what it was worth would afford him enough to move the hell out of the palace and get the freedom from Nik he desired. Rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin, Drake's timid gaze turned from the bottle to the doctor. He could handle a finger or two in ass for a few seconds if t made him $90,000 richer.

“Okay. What do I need to do?”

Nikolas quietly typed on the keyboard of his laptop from the opposite side of the curtain. The images from the hidden cameras plastered on the wall where Drake was seated popped into view on his screen. Feeding a link to, and overriding the broadcast feed at the CBC, Nik crouched down low and waited with little beady eyes for the exam to begin. “Perfect ...Okay, Doc, let’s see if you can get a hole in one.”

----------

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#Little Shit #Drake Walker #Liam x mc #trr #trr fanfiction

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joe-young-stories · 3 years

Text

A Week.

Hey, new to tumblr. This is something I wrote in an enclosed, dodgy Christian community in 2018.

The last time I saw Dad in person I was seventeen, and I’d either just finished my A-levels or I was halfway through them. I’d seen him a year before, for Grandad’s funeral. After we’d got home from the wake I’d nicked a crate of Guinness, and thrown up on my suit. I’d thrown up all over the guest bed as well, and I’d left all the empty cans in the waste paper basket. I told my dad that the emotional stress of the funeral must have affected me, and I didn’t really give a shit about the fact that he knew.

This time it was summer, and it was that one week of the British summer that is actually scorching hot. Dad was waiting for me at Oxford train station for my visit. Visa Skank was there too. Visa Skank is my dad’s Russian wife, and perhaps she married him for a visa or perhaps she really loves him. I’ve never actually had anything against her. It was rude, offensive, calling her Visa Skank, but it made me feel really savage and clever back then. This day at Oxford train station she was in her late forties, and she was wearing this shimmer- shimmer peach linen halter top harem pants combo thing with a dainty cream pashmina and a big floppy straw hat. She was basically just easy mockery.

We went straight from the station to this ultra quaint Riverside pub/restaurant garden. I had Peronis. I had a burger too. We didn’t really have a conversation because Visa had seen a picturesque riverside photo opportunity, and she had my dad take pictures of her next to a drainage sluice for almost an hour, at different angles and filter settings. At the end we walked back through the pub to get to the car and she started draping herself mystically around rustic beams and cosy fireplaces, or sat herself next to like, napkin dispensers that pleased her. And my dad took more pictures. I just wanted to get back to the house. I don’t remember too much more from the meal.

In the daytimes that followed I fell into a routine. Dad would wake up late (his teaching job at the schools wasn’t on) and he might mooch about or he might go into Oxford, or he might just go to Headington High Street. Visa Skank had a busy social schedule attending a young mum’s social club in the Florence Park Cafe. She would spend a lot of time there. I would wake up and take a walk into Central Oxford. And I would stop for a pint in the White Horse, where we used to go for Lunch when I was little. In town I would walk the old streets around the Radcliffe Camera, and this was back when I had academic ambition before I stopped caring about most things, and the scholarly atmosphere excited me. I walked past the cathedral boys’ school – my first school—and into the Eagle and Child, or the Kings Arms, or the Turf Tavern. I would read Franz Kafka stories or Iris Murdoch novels or I’d listen to pretentious students talk shit and praise myself for being more intelligent than them. After a few pints I’d saunter back over Magdelen Bridge and back up towards the house in Headington.

Dad’s house had changed a lot over the years. The retro porn PC used to be in the dining room, and all my 9 year old self used to do at my dad’s was either play SimCity on that computer or watch Dad’s porn. He’d archived literally thousands of pictures, all categorised according to hair/boobs/race etc. Albums of particular stars. I got up early at that age, and if you were proper stealth about it could get up with the dawn and watch a four second clip of a woman getting pleasured by a mechanised shoe buffer. Only if you were stealth though. The computer screen could be seen from the stairs via the dining room mirror. You had to listen for footsteps. God forbid that Visa or even Grandad would walk in. View me wanking it to Dad’s shoe buffer porn.

Now though the house layout was different. Grandad had been a cantankerous twat since Nan died, and all he ever did was sit in the living room watching cartoons and chat shows. GMTV, Pokemon, Digimon, Homes under the Hammer. That was all I ever saw him do on visits to my dad’s. I left him to it.

But he started losing control of his faculties, and Dad and I would walk in from the pub to a stray smell of nappies, the CBBC channel playing in the background. His osteoporosis got worse. The last time he was alive I was seventeen and he’d been moved to a hospice. He was half asleep next to his colostomy bag but he murmured a greeting and a goodbye. The three of us, Grandad, Dad and me, sat in near silence for approximately fifteen minutes. “Good to see you, Grandad,” I said to him as I was leaving. Grandad had written “to a very impressive grandson” on my birthday card seven months previously.

While Grandad was dying his house was being renovated. The dining room and kitchen had been knocked together into this rustique farmhouse experience, with a big beaten up pine table, a pine dresser and a freshly installed aga. An aga in a nineteen thirties semi. There were a lot of wholesome wicker baskets bought in and gooseberry jam jars were placed in them for effect. Next door the garage was knocked down and a den/conservatory/stargazing lounge/music studio was built. The living room, where Grandad watched all the kids TV, and which I was told was always going to be “His Space” had had all the carpets ripped out and new sofas put in. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered every wall, and they were all full of this intelligentsia Russian shit no one read. The retro porn PC was upstairs in Dad’s bedroom now, so after I got back from Oxford that last week I’d sit in the conservatory on my laptop. Sometimes if my dad was around I’d bring up an attractive female friend’s Facebook profile and wait for him to ask me about it. He’d talk about organic food and hand picking your own raspberries, and how Russian customs and traditions were the best way to live. But most of those afternoons he was upstairs in his bedroom checking his email, which took about two hours and was a pretty full-on activity for him. If Visa was at home she’d make still life displays from Kitsch crap she found in charity shops. And she’d do photoshoots. Most of the time she was out though. Presumably with the young mums.

When I was downstairs on my own I would drink from the many, many bottles available on the farmhouse shelf. I never drank in front of Dad, but I’d never bother hiding how drunk I was getting either. A little bit of gin, little bit of vodka, whiskey, white rum.

I’d always done this. When I was about twelve, thirteen, fourteen I’d go through Dads bedroom and raid his wardrobe. I’d find his extensive magazine stash and his books on “Tantric Passion”, “The Multi Orgasmic Man”, “Make Her see you Mean Commitment”. I’d find the hamper full of Bombay Sapphire bottles; I never questioned the water bottles full of urine next to his bed. I wasn’t subtle. I’d try and incite his scorn, his discipline, his parental authority. I’d find glow in the dark condoms in his bedside drawers, and I’d take them out of the packets and leave them under his pillow like a treasure hunt. I would neck a bottle of chardonnay, refill it with tap water and leave it in the fridge for him to find. He’d look at the bottle, look at me, deliberate and stammer “I must have rinsed it out for recycling and put it back on autopilot.” I don’t think he knew me well enough to confront me. He once drove me back to mums with me throwing up ass the way down the M40, and we both agreed that I must have eaten some “ropey” quiche.

I didn’t want Dad to parent me anymore; I just didn’t really care. So while Dad was upstairs checking his email I’d access the WiFi and watch naked men beat each other, and I’d masturbate and drink gin. I think on the Tuesday of that week he found me full-on passed out in the stargazing conservatory, sleeping it off. Later on he’d said something about travelling being exhausting, especially across London, and it always took a few days for the mind to properly relax on holiday. I agreed.

In the evenings we’d go out to a pub, the Vicky Arms or The Chestnut or something. I would tell Dad what A levels I was doing. I’d namedrop attractive female friends quite a lot, and talk about parties I went to with them. I’d wait for him to be like, “Are they pretty?”, “Are they into you?”, “Like yeah, get in, my son!”, “Well done, boyo!” and things like that. Visa would come with us. She’d sit there in peach tracksuit bottoms and some kind of burgundy flamenco/matador top, and she would say things like, “Never microwave food because it changes the molecules. Did you know this? We go through a recipe book and you will find meals you would like to try.” We might order popcorn from behind the bar. Visa might demand a photo shoot of her next to an inspiring sunset or whatever.

At home Dad and Visa would go to bed in Grandads old room. Nans room, now the guest bedroom, was being fitted with a “Roman balcony” so I slept on a blow up bed in the living room with all the Russian volumes. I’d drink more whiskey and watch a comedy show about teenage lesbians.

That was it, really. The last week I saw my dad was fairly uneventful. Mundane. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was the last time I saw him I doubt I would have remembered it

Only two events stand out in particular. On the Thursday of that week Dad was playing at a jazz and tango concert at a bar/club in Wantage. He did concerts like that to keep money coming in when the schools weren’t on. Visa took tango lessons down at the community centre, and she’d met a new friend and tango partner called Allan. He had had a stroke and divorce in a five year period and had taken early retirement, so I was told. So I was briefed. Briefed why? I didn’t care.

Allan met us at the house. We all sat about having a back garden beer and then Dad and I set off for Wantage. Allan’s and Visa came later, in Allan’s car, which he could still drive all post stroked up apparently. We had another pint in a pub in Wantage. Dad introduced me to the concept of a “Session Beer”. Advice I have never followed.

Dad gave me money for the evening and then left me to my own devices. I sat on the balcony and drank a lot of Stella, and from my vantage point I could see Dad playing onstage. I could see Visa and Allan as well, and she had her head on his shoulder and he was holding her close around the lower back. This didn’t look particularly tango-ey, but Visa had told me on one pub evening that tango was more about feeling than steps. “Feeling. Yes?” she had said with gusto. This was the passion of the dance I was watching, then. Dad had told me in the car that tango was Allan’s hobby, it’s what got him out the house, like his physio. I looked at Dad, and he was playing some sassy chords on the piano, watching the two of them become one with the dance. He didn’t do anything else. He just sat there, watching them get on with it. I finished one of my Stellas, and later on I thought to myself that he looked like a drooping bunch of flowers in a vase, half dead. A bit sad, maybe. A bit lacking. I was quite proud of myself for thinking of that. It felt very grown up.

Two days later we were having a back garden beer, Dad and I. The garden had changed, and where a swingset once stood there was now a very wholesome vegetable plot. Beyond that was a washing line. It was one of those washing lines with one pole in the ground, and it folded out like an upside down pyramid. You could spin it around for ease of pegging/unpegging. I looked at the washing line and remembered my eight year old self playing by it. I had been playing with a football. I was staying with him for a few weeks or so over the summer. I was out there, by myself, with the football. But I liked to pretend I was playing with all the other children I knew from school. Kids who were actually busy with their own friendship groups or who called me poofty boy by the wildlife pond. But when I was playing with them by myself they were all like, “I did not see this coming! We have not appreciated your serious skills! Hey guys, check out this Baller!” and none of them called me a poofty boy by the wildlife pond.

I had devised a game where you had to throw the ball into the opened up washing line to score a point. Dad came outside just as I was about to land the sickest shot from ten feet away, the shot which was going to blow George and his gang away, and was going to make Sadia and Carrie-Ann think I was total boyfriend material. He asked me if I wanted anything to eat.

And I really don’t know what came over me, but I said something along the lines of “I’m playing a game. We have to get the ball off each other and get it in the net. Do you want to play?”

“Oh, right!” was something like he said “Yes alright then, I will”. I’d never played a game with Dad before, and we were both a bit hesitant. Like, do we just…start, or what? I chucked the ball at the line and missed, and he grabbed it. We ran around the garden, playing the game. He scored a point. I scored a point. At one point he wrestled me to the ground to get the ball off me, and then helped me up. I remember laughing and smiling, being out of breath. I was tense, too. How did things like this come to a logical end? Did, like, the session finish? Was there a way for this to end without Dad having to just be really rude? Like: “I’m sorry Joe, but I need to stop doing this at this point and go back to my day. You are welcome to continue though.” How did it work? After approximately fifteen minutes it mercifully started raining, and we went inside. It was the only time we ever played the game.

Sitting and having a beer with my dad that last week was the last time I looked at the garden, or indeed spent any time with him. Halfway through our drink Visa came out of the stargazing conservatory doors, and she was wearing a floor length lacy white gown, a white bonnet and silky white gloves. She was carrying a large wicker hamper, and she put the hamper down and pulled out a silver teapot. “I am English lady at tea,” she said, and she raised the teapot in the air. Then she laid the patio table for a country manor high tea, and started demanding a photoshoot. I went inside.

The next day I was due to go home. I woke up that morning to find that I’d drunk too much and pissed the blow up bed. I put my soggy boxers in a plastic bag, and I covered the damp sheet with my duvet and left it to fester.

I hardly spoke to dad after that week. There was no reason to most of the time. I rang him twice to ask for money, once to say merry Christmas can I have some money and once to tell him I’d just left rehab. In 2018 I had written to him to tell him he was a cunt and I wanted to burn his house down. “Past wounds” with my Father had become a significant part of my “Life Story” by that point, and I thought that sending such a horrible letter might activate a Life Event in some way, some dramatic finale.

Dad has always had his settings such that I can’t find him on Facebook, so I have to log in as my mum to see his profile. Him and Visa quote Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare sonnets on each other’s pages. Visa’s profile has about 64 photo albums. They’re all called things like “Casserole dishes on the patio”, “Beauty In Autumn”, “Sensuous mermaid has adventure”. Her name isn’t actually Visa Skank. All the photo albums are silly and innocuous. When I’m drunk, or self pitying, or feeling like a victim, or all of the above I sometimes find myself thinking about the game me and Dad played with the washing line and the football.

#writers on tumblr #writers #short story #story #childhood

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seaweedbrain404 · 3 years

Text

Wolfstar Au: A Guide to Parenting, Friendships and Heartache (pt1)

read the rest on ao3

Still, he felt it wasn’t fair to him, they had been married nearly a year but had been dating for years and years beforehand. It wasn’t fair to him or Anna’s parents because all three, Anna and his parents were dead. Remus, Marie and Edward were forced to navigate some sort of way to raise the baby by themselves. Of course, it should’ve been all Remus but Marie and Edward were just too nice. He felt they had a sense of duty or maybe a love for their grandson that made them do it.

Either way, they were suffocating. Always up in Remus’ business and he felt horrible for thinking that because without them, the past few years would’ve been hell. Now, Teddy was six years old and Remus needed to get the hell out of the small town that was nestled in the back-arse of nowhere in Wales. Sure, he would certainly miss the beautiful scenery and his job at the local chipper but it was time for a change. That time was now.

Remus picked a cheap apartment somewhere in Liverpool, bid his in-laws goodbye and packed up shop. One of the reasons that Remus chose Liverpool is because he had to drop out of college to help support Teddy and now he was considering going back to actually get a degree. It didn’t escape him that he still had Teddy to think of but he couldn’t just stay on a job that just paid minimum wage and kept them threading above the poverty line for the rest of his life. It was now or never.

It was all these things Remus was thinking about one night, months after they had arrived. He had gotten a job but he hadn’t started night school like he’d wanted to. Teddy was tucked away, asleep in bed when Remus made his fourth cup of tea that evening.

He knew he needed to hire a babysitter. The thing was, he wasn’t sure who to trust with Teddy. Besides, it wasn’t like he had sufficient funds to hire anyone until now. Earlier that day he put a notice on the board downstairs, hoping that if he had to trust someone then it would be someone from this building.

The clock showed 2:30am when Remus finally retired to bed, checking in on Teddy before doing so.

The next morning, the school run was as normal as ever. Teddy was in Year 1 and was getting on exceptionally well, despite having moved school just under halfway through the year. Remus was glad about this, at least he hadn’t unintentionally messed his kid up.

“Daddy?” Teddy asked through a mouthful of toast that morning.

Remus looked up from his tea, ready to give his son full attention.

“Can I have a friend over?”

“A friend?”

“Yeah, his name is Harry and he’s really good at Lego”

Remus thought for a moment before responding, Teddy having a friend over seemed like a good idea, especially since this was the first time he’d ever heard Teddy mentioning anything about a friend. “Well, I don’t see why not but I’ll have to talk to Harry’s mummy or daddy first, okay?”

“Okay” Teddy grinned at him, wolfing down the rest of his toast.

“Daddy, why do I have to wear this?” The 6-year-old grimaced as Remus helped him do the buttons on his coat.

“Because, in school you have to wear a uniform”

“But whyyyyy” Teddy took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the flat, waiting patiently as Remus locked the door behind them.

Remus just smiled and shrugged.

Teddy didn’t let the silence linger for long as the two walked down the street towards the school. “Daddy, why don’t we have a car?”

God, it was moments like these Remus wished social class didn’t exist because how do you explain to a 6-year-old that the reason they don’t have a car is because Remus works a minimum wage job, having to support himself and a small child.

“I don’t really like cars” He said instead.

Teddy cocked his head to the side, looking up at his father. “Why not?”

“They’re too noisy and they make the air bad”

“Oh, I guess it’s okay to not have a car then”

Remus let out a light laugh, never a dull moment with Teddy.

“Harry said I could go over to his as well, that’s why I asked if he could come over too” the small boy said, in reference to their conversation over breakfast.

“Mmm… we’ll see, I still have to talk to his mummy or daddy”

“Yeah- oh look!” Teddy stopped dead in his tracks at the school gates, pointing to a boy about his age with dark hair and round glasses. “That’s Harry daddy, I have to go!”

“Wait- do I not get a hug and a kiss before school?” Remus crouched down, eye level to Teddy.

“Oh, sorry I nearly forgot” Teddy turned around and hugged his dad tightly. Remus gave him a kiss on the forehead before letting him. “Bye daddy!” He called, already running off.

Remus watched Teddy run up to the boy he pointed at earlier and tackle him with a hug, which was eagerly returned. He had a small smile on his face when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“Are you Teddy’s dad?” He was face to face with a red haired woman with green eyes, she had a kind smile on her face as she held out her hand.

Remus shook it. “Yeah, yes I am”

The woman smiled wider. “Brilliant! I’m Lily Potter, Harry’s mum- Harry has been going on about Teddy for ages”

Remus didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t realised he’d be known as ‘Teddy’s dad’ instead of Remus. It was a surreal moment before he realised he hadn’t introduced himself. “Remus Lupin, Teddy mentioned something about a playdate?”

“Oh yes, would you like my number?” Lily asked and kept talking as Remus produced his phone from his pocket. “We can work out the time later but how does Saturday sound? I don’t usually work weekends so any day is okay for me” she handed Remus back his phone, shrugging a little.

“Thank you… I’ll get back to you on that one, Saturday should be fine” He smiled and waved a little, walking backwards before turning around.

Remus felt a little lighter as we walked into work that morning. He worked in a small bookshop with very flexible hours and shitty pay so it was both a curse and a blessing. The owner even let him bring Teddy in during the weekends and after school if he wasn’t finished his shift. Teddy liked the picture books and the ones with dinosaurs the most.

About halfway through the shift, Remus’ phone rang. At first he thought maybe it was from the school and something horrible had happened but then he saw the number onscreen; it wasn’t saved so it couldn’t be the school.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Remus Lupin?”

“Um- yeah”

“Cool, cool…. listen, I saw your notice downstairs and I’m wondering if the babysitting position is still available?”

So that’s what this was about. Remus hadn’t expected anyone to respond so quickly and eagerly. “Oh! yes, yeah it is”

“Great, I’d love to take it so”

“Okay um, thank you Mr….”

“Sirius Black, I live just across the hall…. I can start whenever”

“Right, oh, can I get back to you? I’m not sure what day I’ll need it but it’ll only be once a week and then we can talk fares then too”

“Sounds brilliant, cheers”

“Cheers” Remus replied, then heard the other man hang up.

“Ooooo…. you look cheery after that, who was it?” His coworker, Alice, gave him a wink.

“I got a sitter sorted for Teddy so I can do night classes”

“Oh! that’s lovely dearie” She pulled Remus into a quick tight hug. Somehow Alice Longbottom always seemed to hug him. In fact, she always seemed to hug anyone she was half familiar with.

The rest of the shift went blissfully even when Remus went to collect Teddy and brought him back to the shop to finish off the last few hours of his shift.

“Daddy, did you talk to Harry’s mummy?” He asked suddenly.

“I did” Remus answered, sorting through some of the front shelves. He looked over at Teddy, who was sitting on top of the counter besides the till. Alice had put him up there, despite Remus telling her to just leave him sit on the floor.

“Annnnnd?”

“She said Saturday and I said Saturday was okay”

“Yay!” Teddy jumped off the counter, which considering the fact the counter was a lot taller than him and he was 6-years-old was enough to give Remus a small heart attack and scold him.

“Teddy! you can’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself” He chided the child who had wrapped himself securely around his father’s leg.

“But I didn’t hurt myself”

It was too hard trying to argue with a child and Remus resorted to shaking his head. “I know but you might, I’m just worried” He said, bending down and picking him up.

“Why are you worried?” Teddy asked, taking Remus’ face between his small hands.

“I’m your dad, that’s my job” He said before blowing a raspberry into Teddy’s stomach which made the boy giggle and squeal with joy, and putting him back down. “Now, let me finish this so we can get home starfish, okay?”

“Okay” Teddy nodded in agreement, starting off towards his favourite picture books.

Remus continued filling the shelves when he heard Alice speak next to him. “You’re a good dad, y’know Remus”

Remus smiled slightly. “I try my best”

“I just hope Frank will be too, I’m thinking of having a baby with him” She confessed, smiling a little madly.

“I’m sure Frank will be great, he sounds lovely from what I’ve heard”

The rest of Remus’ shift flew by and soon, the father and son duo were walking down the street again.

“What’s for dinner?”

“I was thinking pasta”

“Are you going to try and make the one with the weird green sauce again daddy?”

“Pesto, and no, I know you like the red sauce”

“That’s okay then”

A brief silence settled between them before one of them broke it and this time it was Remus.

“Teddy?”

“Yeah, daddy?” The small boy looked up at Remus, putting a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

“How do you feel about a babysitter?” Remus asked cautiously.

Teddy seemed to think about this for a moment. “Why would I need a babysitter? I have you”

Remus smiled a little at that. “I want to go back to school- grown up school, college, and I’d go late so a really nice man will come mind you for a couple hours and put you to bed and then when you wake up in the morning… I’ll be home again”

Teddy was quiet for a long time again. A bit too long for Remus’ liking but eventually he nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s okay”

So, just like that, Remus and Teddy walked home the rest of the way with Teddy telling him everything that had happened in school that day.

Once they returned home, Remus started on dinner and Teddy did his homework at the kitchen table. All was well. Bathtime then bedtime rolled around quickly and soon Remus was the only one awake.

He turned on his laptop and started browsing night classes. It was still early enough in the school year for him to join. He wanted to find a course that took place once a week and would teach what he wanted. It took a while and once he found it, he realised it would take him far longer to complete his degree than he initially thought. That didn’t deter him though because he sent a text to Sirius Black, asking if Thursday worked for him. Thankfully, the response was very enthusiastic.

Wednesday went by like a flash. The pair got up, had breakfast and when Remus dropped Teddy to school, he spoke with Lily again. They arranged a time for Saturday and then Remus was off to work again.

“Remus?”

He looked up from the till and gave Alice a small smile. “What’s up?”

Alice looked a bit sheepish, fidgeting with her one of her rings. “Would you and Teddy like to come for dinner sometime?”

Remus opened his mouth to answer but Alice cut him off.

“It’s just that, Teddy’s so good and Frank is thrilled about the idea of a baby but he says he’s really scared and I thought maybe if you two came for dinner, you could talk to him and maybe he could see how wonderful Teddy is”

“Oh-“ Remus paused, scratching the side of his neck. “Yeah, I guess we could… I mean- I don’t see why not, Teddy adores you so I’m sure he’ll behave”

Alice smiled widely, pulling him into another one of those tight hugs. “Thank you Remus! I don’t know what I’d do without you”

The rest of the shift passed quietly, not many people came to the bookshop and so when it was time to pick Teddy up, Alice told Remus to just go home.

“If I need anything, I’ll call you” She reassured him, pushing him towards the door.

“Alright, alright, I’ll see you tomorrow”

#marauders #the marauders #remus lupin #teddy lupin #lily evans #harry potter #marauders au #marauders fic #hp marauders #modern marauders #marauders fanfiction #wolfstar au #background jily

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poppymuses · 4 years

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@scnsei gets a f*cking book B)

There were always whispers among the servants. He hears them speaking, voices hushed and low, lest they be overheard by the royal family or the nobles that the whispers were typically about. Lu Ten had always been keen on listening to them. Oftentimes, silly rumors about the latest meeting, or some even about himself, had brought him a sense of relief to feel his tender age of seventeen. There were even a few late nights, where they’d stood around in the kitchen together: the crown prince and new, young servants, close to his own age, telling stories, gossiping, even laughing.

Now, he hesitates around a corner, having backtracked when he’d heard a certain name. He wonders, perhaps, if the group knew he hovered nearby. Lu Ten bites down on his lip at the words he hangs onto-- “crown prince’s tutor” and “execution”.

He swears his heart stops before he takes off, looking as calm and composed as ever, even as a sickness overtakes him, and he heads towards his bedroom, in desperate need of the safety and privacy that could only be brought by a closed door.

It shuts behind him and he presses sweaty palms against the door. He is stuck and desperate for breath. What had he done? Lu Ten had been attempting to be on his best behavior. Had Iruka done something? Said something to the wrong someone? No. No. He would never. Iruka was careful, thoughtful, to protect both of them.

(What was there to say, anyway?)

What could be done? Take the blame for an act (a word?) that he was unsure of?

Oh, how had he let this happen? How had he screwed up so colossally?

With his back to the door, he slides down until he’s sitting, pulling knees close to his chest. His thoughts are racing: what had pushed them over? would he be required to attend? forced to watch? if he reacted would Azulon do the same to him?

No--Azulon had never been one to beat around the bush. The way his grandfather referred to him (“my heir”) with such pride (like some prized possession). His treatment of Ozai, it was clear even Azulon would not decry his precious heir; the one beloved by their people, already respected by their generals and admirals. No. Lu Ten would live and he would suffer, if need be; (“there is always a lesson to be learned.”).

He stands on legs that shake beneath him and begins making his way down corridors. (What was the lesson?) The servant he’d overheard steps aside when she sees him and bows her head. How did she hear it before him? How much did they know? Had they..?

How did they know everything? He feels eyes on him as he passes, but has no interest in checking to be sure. How did they always know?

Lu Ten rounds corner after corner until he arrives at a pair of large and exquisite doors, where two imperials firebenders stand guard outside his grandfather’s bedroom. They bow, but show no other signs of acknowledgment but, still, he feels their eyes on him. He knew they gossiped just as well as the servants; the only difference was they were quieter about it.

His life was on display from the moment he was born, it hardly belonged to him. It was a spectacle for others to view.

His lifts a hand to knock.

And stops.

Fist rests against wood. The guards don’t move, they say nothing and he owes no explanation. He is their Prince, after all.

He offers something anyway.

“I need a moment.”

Heads turn, the guards exchange a look, trying to decide if the prince is asking them to leave. What was he doing? What could he possibly say? He had envisioned this a thousand times. Begging, pleading, in horrible desperation to spare Iruka’s life, all for reasons he could not fully explain. Reasons he did not want to explain. What happened between the two of them, whatever emotions passed between them, was no one’s business but their own.

Would it come to that? Would he go that far?

Lu Ten takes a breath, straightens his back, and knocks. Armor clinks as the two face forward again.

“Let him in.”

Azulon’s voice through the doors turns his stomach. A guard obliges, opens the door for him, and closes it behind him.

He walks, head buzzing, the room fuzzy around the edges, towards his grandfather. It’s easy for him to forget how old the Fire Lord really is; he looks a different man now, sitting up in his bed, reading over scrolls, versus the powerful man who ruled with no mercy in the war room. Azulon does not look up as Lu Ten approaches him, but with a simple wave of his hand, the boy stops.

“You have got nerve to disturb me without first requesting my presence, Prince Lu Ten.”

His grandfather’s golden gaze finally flicks towards him. The malice in the man’s face is not present in his eyes, he looks almost....amused? Lu Ten swallows and kneels, arm resting on his raised knee and head bowed in typical greeting. “My apologies, Fire Lord Azulon. I had no intention of interrupting--”

“Yet, you have decided to. Tell me what it is you want.”

Lu Ten lifts his head. Azulon did not like being kept waiting, and the prince realized as soon as their eyes meet that he had not prepared a word of what he intended to say. He’d always been quick witted, sharp and able to roll with whatever came his way, but he hesitates for a brief moment: knowing Iruka’s life rests in his hands, but in that moment, the look in Azulon’s eyes changes. The humor gone, replaced by certainty--smugness and anger rolled into one.

This was an expected visit.

The last lesson Azulon had taught him--restraint, was one he had learned well. The burns across his shoulder blades a constant reminder. His time with Iruka had been filled with nothing but restraint as his feelings towards the boy morphed into something entirely new to him. Lu Ten had dreamt of gentle hands wrapping his bandages, of smiles and whispers, of kisses while lying underneath his favorite tree in the city.

His voice, formal, confident, lacks the emotions that his pounding heart tells him. The room grows hotter as his body temperature increases, a nervous habit he’d never gotten control of.

“I wonder what crime my tutor has committed to deserve death. We have only executed traitors and deserters in the past, My Lord. Is there something he has done to deserve such punishment?”

He had taken Iruka there every time the pair had a chance to be together outside of the palace; they had taken to taking walks together on the days they had class together. They shared no kisses beneath the tree, but had laid apart, fingers just barely touching in the grass.

There was no one around. No one to see.

Azulon’s smile is dark.

Had he done this?

(Oh, how he wanted to kiss Iruka then.)

“Is distracting my heir not treasoness?” A pause. “Did I not warn you to restrain yourself, Prince Lu Ten? You think I have not noticed? That this common boy has made you soft. I have looked away long enough while you have conducted yourself so brazenly.” The elderly man’s brows have knitted together, and Lu Ten sees Fire Lord Azulon as he is in the War Room once more. No mercy.

“You think I have no seen the way you behave?” He scoffs. “I have shown both you and this boy mercy for allowing it to go on this long. He has no place here. I allowed you to sully yourself with the company of servants--” Lu Ten’s eyes close and he is bowing his head again, lower than before. He can hear the sneer in his grandfather’s voice without looking. “Oh, do not play shy now. You are my heir, the son of the Dragon of the West, and you will behave as such. I have seen you seek out the servants for company and thought nothing of it. Your father did the same as a boy. Now, whatever spell he has on you will be broken.You will be there. And you will give the orders to-”

“No..!”

The word leaves before he can stop them. His head snaps up from the shock, brown eyes wide. Azulon looks pleased to have caught him so off guard. “Grandfather, I--” he feels sick. Their eyes meet, Lu Ten’s chest is heaving as panic settles in. Oh, spirits, please don’t make him give the orders. Not Iruka. “Fire Lord Azulon,” he corrects himself; this was not a chat amongst family members. This was a private political meeting.

Lu Ten had the keen feeling that he did not take to being called grandfather the way he did to being called Fire Lord. He was Fire Lord Azulon first and foremost. The slip-up had clearly made him angry.

“What is the problem, Prince Lu Ten? You have ordered other men to their deaths, have you not?”

Head falls lower, his knee drops, and Lu Ten bows lower still, until his forehead is pressed against the marble of the floor. “Please, Fire Lord Azulon. Let the boy live. I’ll do anything.”

The heat around the room swells once more: candles, this time. The flames grow, brighten the room, and Lu Ten clenches his eyes shut tighter. Lu Ten’s anxious mind merely warmed the room, enough to make one sweat, but Azulon’s anger had scorched men in the past; had scorched his own grandson just a few months prior. “The time for doing anything has passed! You have had your chance.”

No. No, no, no, no.

“I had only shared the information a few hours ago and you race here to change my mind? That behavior is not befitting of the future ruler of my nation. The boy makes you weak!”

Lu Ten’s thoughts drift briefly to his grandmother, a woman long gone before his birth. He had never known her, rarely heard talk of her, beyond knowing that his own father had been named for her: Ilah and Iroh. Surely his grandfather must have had some fondness for her. Some love.

“I beg of you, Fire Lord Azulon. Anything at all. I swear to you, I’ll never see him again. All contact will cease immediately.” He presses his head against the cool marble, focuses on it. Cool against the increasing hot room, he was unsure which of them was the blame for it. Tears swell behind closed eyes and he lets out a shaky breath.

If never seeing Iruka again meant he would live, Lu Ten would suffer the remainder of his life in silence, but it was one promise he would keep.

Tears roll out the corner of his eyes, but he does not look up, cannot allow him to see him like this. “You should not be seeing him outside of your class or any supervised sessions at the palace. You truly must believe me to be a fool to not know the things you do. My mind is made up. The commoner will be put to death and you--”

“Please, no! Is it not punishment enough that I won’t see him, when you know what he means to me?” His voice raises but it cracks and quivers with fear. Desperation. He’s running out of ideas. The hands, flat in front of him, curl into fists and shake. What has he got to offer?

He does not know what Iruka means to him (goodness, kindness, in a world that has shown him very little). The way his heart felt the first time he watched Iruka talk with Zuko and Azula. It was that moment he realized he wanted to run away with them; just the four of them. His cousins, safe and happy, away from their father. All of them away from Azulon. When had he come to despise his grandfather?

“I will be by your side, I swear it. I am your heir. I have proved my loyalty to you time after time and I will do it again. I will follow in your footsteps, in my father’s footsteps. Allow me this one thing, I beg of you, Fire Lord Azulon. I will not ask you for one more thing. I will not let you down again.”

No more weakness. No more mercy.

Azulon had risen without him noticing until the footsteps near. This is too familiar. His body tenses, preparing for what happened the last time he had bowed his head so low (his back aches at the thought).

“Your weakness is like that of Fire Lord Sozin, towards the end of his life. How will you prove this to me, Prince Lu Ten? That you will not go back to your ways when I am gone.” He pauses as though he had just come up with the idea, but Lu Ten knows him well enough to know that the next words have been prepared all along. “Shall I send word to your father, to ensure he keeps you in check? Or perhaps it is better to just handle the issue at hand now, as I have said.”

He dares not look up. Think, think, think, Lu Ten, you fool. What had he to offer to the most powerful man the world had known?

“General Iroh told me when he was a boy he dreamed of taking Ba Sing Se. We will take it for you, Fire Lord Azulon. I will take it for you.” He had been training to join the military. He could outdo his father’s strongest men. He had been born to fight, to burn, to conquer like his forefathers before him. His voice steadies as he goes along: strength and confidence returning. He could do this.

“You said it was my destiny to finish the war Fire Lord Sozin started. I will finish it in Ba Sing Se. Let the boy live. That is all I ask, and I will give you everything.”

#scnsei #this is 5 fucking pages danny #i am so sorry

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mamabearcat · 5 years

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Into the Woods - Part 7

We’re taking a break from our romantic duo for a short interlude with Grandpa. Remember, this is meant to be a twisted fairy tale, so Grandpa is not having a good time of it. A mention of suicidal thoughts, so if this is triggering for you PLEASE don’t read it. It’s not entirely necessary to read this to understand the story as a whole - look after yourself, you know what is best for you. Grandpa’s prayer is taken from ‘Shinto Norito: A Book of Prayers’ by Ann Llewellyn Evans

Tagging my two main cheerleaders for this @clearwillow and @keichanz and also @redflamesofpassion @xxracheyxx @mcornilliac@inuyashasnook @cstorm86 @xfangheartx @wenchster

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

The shrine was beautiful, everything he’d imagined it to be. The mountain air was crisp and clear, the magnificence of the ancient cedar trees towering over the stone steps, and the many lanterns lining the pathway filled his heart with delight. The steep climb was tiring to a man of his age, but he did not mind. This was a place where he could gladly live out his final years in peace, show his dedication to his family heritage. He didn’t miss the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, just the family he’d left behind. But perhaps they would come to visit. It would do them good to breathe the mountain air and slow down for a while.

He settled into the little house easily – it had everything that he could ever want, along with a small vegetable garden in the open space behind it, before the ground dropped away, ending in a sudden cliff. He’d spoken with the woman at the base of the mountain, and apparently, he could have anything else he needed delivered on a monthly basis. He’d laughed at her warnings of evil, even as he’d accepted her gift of an omamori against harm. How on earth could a shrine be evil – the woman was obviously eccentric.

The day after he’d arrived, he’d walked around the paths surrounding the shrine, eager to get to know his surroundings so he could guide and inform visitors about the surrounding beauty. The area was charming. The ancient Nagi tree in the temple grounds, festooned with a huge shimenawa rope and shide paper tassels filled him with awe, and he was proud to be the caretaker of such an ancient specimen.

The only place had made him feel uneasy was the towering black volcanic rock behind the shrine, almost hidden in a circle of tall trees. The middle of the rock had a huge hole worn by the wind, as tall as a man, and the sound the air made as it pushed through the rock was mournful. The wind felt colder as he left the path to take a closer look at the stone, and a shiver rattled his old bones. If you used your imagination, you could almost hear words in that desolate sound – it was a good thing that he wasn’t prone to believing in such nonsense. But for some reason, he was drawn to place his hand on the rock, as if to console it in its loneliness. The biting cold of the stone against his palm made him jump back. His hand felt almost numb, even from such a brief moment of contact. But it wasn’t surprising really – a massive stone in such a shaded area probably never heated up.

He’d begun to settle in. At first, he had put down his vague feelings of disquiet down to the stress of grief. Even though he and his brother hadn’t been on speaking terms for years, that didn’t mean that he didn’t love him, didn’t feel sad that he was no longer in this world. He was the only surviving member of the Higurashi family line, apart from his grandchildren, and that… hurt. So when he started losing moments, little spots of time as he walked around the shrine, he put it down to stress; the stress of grief, the stress of moving, the stress of living in a new home alone after living with others for so long.

The nightmares, they were probably due to stress too. Dreams of an endless dark void, dreams of calamity where he watched the world burn around him, dreams that had him screaming himself awake, shaking and shivering, covered in sweat. All due to stress.

And then that youkai boy had come to visit, spouting nonsensical tales about Naraku. Ridiculous. As if such a thing were possible. He’d grown up in the town, he’d lived at the family shrine in the village; if there had been absolutely anything truthful in that story, he would have known about it. His brother had been so proud to be selected to carry on the tradition of looking after the mountain shrine. It was an honour, an honour that he would uphold and maintain, and that hanyou was obviously insane. He was glad he’d seen him off the shrine grounds. It was no wonder he lived by himself in the forest. He would have to keep an eye on him.

Then he started sleepwalking. Also obviously due to stress. Although that worried him a little. He was an old man now – waking up at the edge of the cliff behind the shrine cottage was honestly a little scary. But he didn’t want to worry anyone. If he called his daughter-in-law, she would only panic and waste precious time coming to visit. She had worked very hard to get where she was after his son’s death, and even though Kagome had recently moved out, there was Souta to consider. It was probably nothing. He just needed to drink more water, eat more vegetables. He would start taking a sip of vinegar with his meals. Perhaps the next time he visited the village he would purchase a health tonic from the pharmacy.

But then the whispers started. Thoughts that he would never have, disturbing thoughts, about causing harm to others. He wondered uneasily about Alzheimer’s. It was getting difficult to keep up with things - he was not a messy person by nature, but it was all he could do to take care of his basic needs. Perhaps he should call someone?

And then the voice started speaking to him – a cruel voice, heartless, dominating. When the voice was speaking, it almost split his skull, the pain in his head was so bad. He was terrified that perhaps he had gone insane. The voice laughed at him, mocking his pain.

His daughter-in-law called, and it was all he could do to try and keep up his side of the conversation. He couldn’t worry her. He had to keep it together. She wanted to come visit him, check on him. But he dissuaded her. She wanted to send his beautiful granddaughter, but he talked her out of that too. He didn’t want anyone he loved near the shrine. Because something… something was definitely not right.

He was tidying in the storeroom at the back of the shrine, trying to keep his mind off the voice, when he came across the box of scrolls. Some of them ancient and brittle, others more recent. All of them. Every single one spoke of Naraku, and he realised with horror that the hanyou boy had spoken the truth. He had to find him, work with him, find out what to do. But to his dismay, he realised that he couldn’t leave the shrine. It was like there was an invisible barrier closing him in, closing them both in. The barrier that had been maintained to protect the world from Naraku now effected him too, because Naraku was in him. With terror, he realised that he would have to face this alone.

He stayed up all night, reading the scrolls. He’d realised that he felt more himself the closer he got to the ancient Nagi tree, so he’d carried the scrolls with him, along with a lantern, sitting with his back against the ancient tree, cradled in its roots. By morning, he’d come to a decision. He’d lived a very full life. This demon, this evil, was currently residing in his body, his very human body. If he destroyed the body, perhaps it would destroy the demon too.

After putting the scrolls back where he had found them, he meditated at the shrine for a few hours, trying to find his courage. By the afternoon, he was ready, determined to do what was necessary. He went through the medicine cabinet, but he didn’t have anything that would do the job. He could try taking all the painkillers he had, but he didn’t think that would act quickly enough. His thoughts quailed a little at having to kill himself with a knife. He’d never been a big fan of blood, but if that is what it took to defend others against this evil, he would do it.

He marched into the kitchen, sorting through his drawers hurriedly until the sharpest knife he owned was clenched in his shaking fist. His only regret was that he was unable to say goodbye to his daughter-in-law, his granddaughter, his grandson. He loved them dearly, and hoped against hope it would not be one of them that would find his dead body. But there was nothing for it. He closed his eyes, held the knife, ready to cut his own throat.

But then a force seized his muscles, tore away his control, jerked his hand and he dropped the knife. It was agonising. He screamed, did his best to find some other way to injure himself, crashing his body around the kitchen. He had to do it, before this creature could escape and harm others. Barely holding on by a thread he stumbled through the back door. The cliff was nearby. If he threw himself off, surely he would not survive. Then everyone would be saved, and his stupidity in not believing the boy would not be held against him by the kami.

He chanted a purification prayer as he staggered towards the cliff, every step more excruciating than the next, and he couldn’t help the tears that poured down his weathered cheeks.

Live in harmony with the way of great nature,

Moving with its changes

Tõ kami

Emi tame

North, northeast, east, southeast

South, southwest, west, northwest –

From all corners of the universe

Kan gon shin

Son rikon da ken

Take away all impurities of myself,

My home, and the world.

Harahi tamae

Kiyome de tamõ

He could see the cliff ahead, just a few more steps and it would be all over. And then it went dark.

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Read Part Eight

#Into the Woods #inukag fanfic #inuyasha fanfic #Bearpluscat fanfics #sorry grandpa :(#It's not my fault it's Naraku's #be mad at him

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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years

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Frank didn’t die, but he and Claire divorced. When the Mackenzies return to the future, Jemmy gets to know his other grandfather. It makes for an interesting return to the past.

Frank stood with his arms crossed as he examined the scene before him. Jemmy was sitting at the window, staring out at the street. He was leaning forward on the windowsill, his chin resting on his arms. Rain trickled down the glass and pattered lightly against the leaves on the bush just outside.

The boy had been sitting there since Brianna and Roger had left with Mandy that morning to go to the hospital. So far there had been one call to the house from Roger informing Frank that they had arrived and that Brianna was helping keep the baby calm through pre op—and that Joe was helping to keep Brianna calm. Frank insisted that he had things under control with Jemmy and it was true—there had been no tantrums or trouble so far.

But that was part of what Frank found unsettling. It was impossible to look at the boy and not be reminded of Brianna at the same age—that hair, those eyes, even the same freckles sprinkled across their noses. But Brianna had been boisterous and never seemed to stop talking. From the way Brianna and Roger spoke about their son, Frank had the impression he usually behaved the same way.

And yet, there he sat at the window, silently watching traffic and the rain. Was it simply a combination of the novelty and concern for his sister? Or was it him?

After all, Claire might not have chosen to leave him when she had her first little adventure with the stones at Craigh na Dun but when she’d returned, she had no qualms about making sure Frank knew he was no longer her first choice… in anything. It had taken him years to give up that fight and agree to a divorce. He knew when he’d found record of Jamie Fraser alive after Culloden that it wouldn’t take Claire long to go back to him… and that he would still have Brianna to care for.

But then Brianna had followed her mother only a few years later, leaving him behind to chase after a stranger. Oh, he knew it wasn’t to do with him, really—she’d gone out of her way to make that point many times in the weeks before she went. And yet, even when Roger went to find her and bring her back, months after Brianna had hoped to return by…

They’d all stayed. They’d all chosen to live a life in a more dangerous time and place… and all he could do was search for them in his research. The only reason they’d come back at all was because of medical necessity.

“Are you hungry at all?” Frank asked the boy. “Is there anything you would like to do? I want to stay at the house for when your parents call with an update, but I can pull out some of the old board games and puzzles from when your mother was younger.”

“Grandda was ‘sposed to teach me to play chess,” Jemmy said, his tone flat, hollow. He lifted his head to look at Frank. “He was helpin’ me carve my own set of pieces and tellin’ me about what they do. He said makin’ it that way would make sure I had the patience ye need to play and when we had ‘em all, he was goin’ to show me.”

“Perhaps never having done so is the reason I’ve never had patience for chess,” Frank said with a chuckle. “I did teach your mother to play checkers when she was about your age. The board we played with is in the attic with some of her other toys and games. Would you care to come see?”

Jemmy shrugged but got up from the seat near the window and followed Frank up to the second floor and was first up the ladder to the small crawl space that served as the house’s attic.

“Do you see that box over there?” Frank asked, remaining on the ladder himself and only sticking his upper torso into the dim space. He shone a flashlight at a box. “Can you read what it says?”

“‘Bree’s Room’?” Jemmy responded with little confidence given the poor lighting and worn lettering.

“Very good. Do you think you can crawl over to it and push it towards me?”

Jemmy scrambled around, Frank guiding him with the flashlight but before he could move the box more than a few inches across the dusty floor, he spotted something of even greater interest.

“Claire!” he exclaimed. “That’s Grannie’s name!” He darted over to the smaller box and pushed that one toward Frank instead. “Can I see wha’s in here?”

It was the most animated Frank had seen the boy so he swallowed his reluctance and pulled the box down before holding the ladder steady for Jemmy to descend.

Jemmy didn’t even bother dusting himself off or carrying the box to a more convenient space. He plopped down in the middle of the hallway floor and pawed at the box to get it open. Frank set the flashlight aside and showed Jemmy the proper way to open the cardboard box, then he sat on the floor himself, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched to the other wall and watched his grandson.

Claire had taken most of her things when they divorced—her medical school texts and notebooks, the silver service set her uncle had given them as a wedding gift, random mementos picked up from a lifetime of traveling to dig sites… But she’d left a number of photographs behind. Many of them had been family shots or photos of the pair of them. Frank had been tempted to throw them away but when it came down to it, he hadn’t the heart. So instead, he’d stuffed them in a box and tucked them away in the crawl space where he didn’t have to look at them and be reminded.

“That’s you and Grannie,” Jemmy remarked, his brow furrowing with confusion and amazement.

“I suppose you’d hardly recognize her from those,” Frank mused, reaching to pick up the photos Jemmy had let fall as he moved to the next and the next.

“She… she was young,” the boy gawked. “She doesna even look so old as Mam does.”

Frank peeked. It was a photo of Claire he’d taken during one of their all-too-brief leaves together during the war. She looked both relieved and exhausted, her hair a curly mess but her smile as bright as he remembered and warmth in her eyes that was a punch to the gut.

“This is Grannie wi’ you and Mam,” Jemmy said with excitement, holding out a photo taken at a Christmas party one of his colleagues threw every year. Brianna wore a green plaid dress with a bow in her hair while Claire dazzled in white (her smile was obviously strained but Frank was pretty sure it was the result of the Dean having said about her wasting time and money pursuing her medical degree rather than anything he’d said or done) and Frank wore a red jumper with his jacket draped over his arm so it would show brightly in the photo.

“Who’s… that?” Jemmy asked, baffled.

“That… is Mickey Mouse. That was taken when we took your mother to Disneyland,” Frank explained. They’d taken the trip after he and Claire had decided that divorce was the only option left. They wanted one final family holiday for Brianna before they formally started the process and told her. Perhaps it was having acknowledged that they were giving up on the marriage, but so much of the tension he and Claire felt with one another seemed to vanish. They were able to laugh and joke and enjoy themselves with an abandon they hadn’t been able to conjure while they’d been so focused on trying to make things work between them. It was easily the happiest family vacation they had ever taken together, a lovely memory amid the sea of disquiet that gave way to a sometimes-difficult balancing act.

For it was about two months after they returned from that trip that Claire rented a house close enough to keep Brianna in the same school so she could go back and forth between them as often as necessary—Claire’s schedule frequently included overnight shifts, for which Frank was grateful.

“Mickey Mouse?!” Jemmy bounced from his bottom onto his knees in a maneuver that caused Frank’s joints to twinge in sympathy. “But we hafta go see him! Grandda asked me to pass along his regards. I didna ken Mam knew him.”

“Your other grandfather knows about Mickey Mouse?” Frank asked, the impulse to laugh rising in his chest.

“Aye. He said if I was ever to come ‘cross him I was to give him Grandda’s regards,” Jemmy repeated. “Can we go to see him? How far away is Disneyland? Can we take the vroom to get there?”

The chuckle escaped but Jemmy didn’t seem to notice. Frank wondered whether it was Claire or Brianna who had told Jamie about Disneyland and what an 18th century man made of a cartoon mouse that sang and danced and was brought to life at a theme park.

“Disneyland is all the way on the other side of the country so it would be faster to fly there than to drive,” Frank began to tell a rapt Jemmy. “We’ll need to see what your parents say after your sister is recovered, but I should very much like to take you there to meet Mickey Mouse.”

#ohzutilneige #One Shot #featuring: frank #Featuring: jemmy #canon divergence #;mod lenny

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sprringbreak · 5 years

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Welcome to the JTK Galaxy. It is year 10,220 and earth is no longer our home. After many years of rapid increases in climate change and war destruction between all countries, it was clear to see that earth was no longer a planet humans could thrive upon. A scientist, by the name of Casperan Stewart took it upon himself to have six individuals start a new beginning for the human species in space. He located three planets sustainable for human life, Cas 001, Per 002, and An 003. Six of his coworkers volunteered to be the one’s to fulfill this journey, but Casperan thought it to be wise to have six young individuals, between the age of 20 and 30. This would increase the chances of reproduction and a long life of leadership. So, the six of them went home to their families after that very night of discussion about the biggest sacrifice they were soon to make for the entire human race. They each sat down with their oldest child, begging them to take the journey. They lied, telling their children that the journey would only be temporary and that the government chose them to see what the rest of the human eye cannot. The next morning, six of the children arrived at the private base where they would be sent to space on a space ship built by Casperan Stewart. Three women and three men, between the ages of 20 and 30, completely oblivious.

They all settled in comfortably inside the spaceship that contained food, water, a place to sleep and a large screen which would show them their journey through space and a countdown of how many days remaining until they reach the three planets. Cas 001 is 12,000 light years away from earth, which is approximately 300 years away. Per 002 is 3000 light years away from Cas 001 which is approximately 4 years away, and An 003 is 1000 light years away from Per 002 which is approximately 1 year away.

The spaceship could travel 500 light years per hour, which meant that Troy, Sifari, Jasper, Kastifar, Logan, and Masai reached Cas 001 in five days. When they arrived there, they were absolutely astounded. Cas 001 was absolutely gorgeous. They saw trees one hundred feet taller than the ones on earth. The water was so clear, you could forget you were swimming. There was only fruits, vegetables and nuts, which never ran out and never expired. There were palaces of silver and gold, clothing of silk and comfort. The sky was always blue and pink, as if the sun was rising or setting. None of them wanted to leave, but they knew that Per 002 and An 003 needed to be explored, so they continued with their journey.

When arriving at Per 002, they were even more blown away with the beauty of another planet they never would have believed existed. Not even entering Per 002, the size of this planet was impressive enough. Imagine one thousand moons put together. That is how huge Per 002 is. They entered Per 002, There are crystal mountains of the color green and gold, waterfalls with little to no noise, clouds bigger than any ever seen and any ever painted. Creatures of all kinds walked the surface of the planet, very harmless and very beautiful. There were gardens of flowers of different colors and rivers of honey. Homes were made out of beautiful green tree branches and one palace stood alone. This was too another planet they couldn’t believe was shown to them only temporarily.

They boarded the spaceship once more, in route towards the third planet of their journey. An 003. This planet was not a single planet alone. Inside of it, there were thousands of other planets of the color blue. An 003 had nothing but dark blue, sparkling rock, with water flowing in between the creases. A gigantic palace floated in the center of this planet surrounded by it’s other planets. This palace was blue and gold, twelve hundred palaces combined that they’ve seen in movies or in real life. The planets all had something different about them. Some only had animals, some with only fruits and vegetables, some with homes made out of gold crystals and some with any and everything anyone could ever dream for. After, what seemed like a long journey, the six all decided they would not return to earth, not knowing they were destined to live in the galaxy the rest of their lives already.

Returning to Cas 001, the planet was then named Jupara, inspired by the planet Jupiter and Troy’s sister Sifara, who woke up just in time to turn the spaceship around to enter Cas 001 during the beginning of their journey. This was considered an honor by Sifara and she decided to go and retrieve dinner for the entire group. On her way back to the palace, a cave, shining brightly caught her attention. She made her way inside the cave and came upon a shining sword of silver and gold. She pick it up and it read, “Blue, green, silver, gold. The one who chooses wisely may behold.” Sifara, not liking any of those colors, she thought that by saying a color she truly loved would change the color of the sword. Confidentally enough she spoke to the sword with a whisper, saying “red.” The sword the turned red and mused with her body. Beautiful, bright gold wings grew from behind her and the color of her eyes changed from green to silver. Her hair grew longer and her voice grew louder. This appearance was unclear to Sifara, having her fleeing the cave and into the palace of the five other. Her brother, Troy, could not believe his eyes. He stood there, speechless, not recognizing his sister for a brief moment. The rest enter the room and step back rapidly. Sifari explains what had happened in the cave and everyone except Troy and Kastifar showed much love and excitement. To Troy, Sifara had become a beast, no longer inferior to him, and for Kastifar, he knew that there would be no chance of a romantic relationship with Sifara, so he grew jealous.

Many years later, billions of new species were in existence within the three planets the six explored. However, the three who were once good friends became great enemies, yet, never causing harm to one another’s planets. Sifara became the emperor of Jupara (Cas 001). Troy became the emporer of Trojan (Per 002). And Kastifar became the emporer of An 003 which was then named by himself, Kastifar.

Growing of age sooner got the best of them and each of their eldest children were oppointed ruler of their home planet. Once these new rulers got of age, they appointed too their eldest child to rule. Aura, grand daughter of Sifara, Golem, grandson of Troy, and Tezzeret, with no specific gender, relative of Kastifar, are all the newest emporers of the galaxy.

There has been tension between Golem and Tezzeret because the teenagers of the Trojan planet are causing chious among the Kastifarian teenagers. They are encouraging them to steal and leave their planets without permission. Tezzeret calls Golem an unfit emperor who should be overthrown by his citizens. Golem takes offense to this insult, suggesting that if his citizens were thicker skinned, they wouldn’t be so easily influenced. Golem isn’t afraid to admit his citizens can pretty much do whatever they want because their civilization has thrived many years without a ruling government. Aura, being the emporer of Jupara, which is the head of all planets in the galaxy because it contains the sword and all six palaces, suggests that there be a border between Jupara, Trojan and Kastifar. She then puts a border in between the three planets, guarded by Juparian guards only. Golem is upset because his citizens, including himself is not allowed to realm wherever they please. He then appoints his son, Melog, to look after the palace and the citizens of Trojans as he journeys through the galaxy to find a way into Jupara to kill Aura, retrieve the sword, and have Trojan become the leading planet of the galaxy. Golem’s son does not like him much, but agree’s to follow his father wishes. What his father does not know is that Melog is a friend of Tezzerets daughter, Emerald. Melog tells Emerald of his fathers plans and Tezzeret is immediately informed. Emerald is then too appointed ruler of the empire while her father is away hunting Golem down. Emeralds best friend is Aura’s youngest daughter, Sapphire. Sapphire is told of this galaxy bounty hunt but isn’t told of the hunt being targeted towards Jupara. Aura, then too appoints her oldest boy, Chrysocolla to look after their beautiful planet. Aura then leaves immediately in search of Tezzeret to get a better understanding of Golems rage.

Will Golem find sword and create an entire new empire amongst the planets of the galaxies?

Will Tezzeret find Golem before he reaches Jupara with his army and cause mass destruction?

Will Aura cross paths with Tezzeret just in time to defeat Golem?

Will Tezzeret grow hatred inside his heart to kill Aura for himself to prove to Golem who’s stronger?

Or will they all find themselves in the center of the galaxy together reunited as their grandparents were on their journey to a new life?

Who are you with?

Juparians?

Trojans?

Or Kastifars?

Inspired by a board game created by myself.

#boardgames #rise of the guardians #epic games #galaxy #spacecraft #emperor #writing inspiration #writing #writers #writer #read #reader #reading

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seoulxsinners · 6 years

Text

The red necklace (self para Jinseok, joonha, Hyukbin, kyosuk

Notes: Its really fucking stupid ignore it. I know its not my best but it was in my head. it may feel choppy if you do read it.

“What do you mean you bought him,” Joonha asked walking with Jinseok. He had heard the other found Lucifer’s grandson that he had been looking for. He wanted to meet him. he was the first crossing of any of the sins. He had come to Jinseoks for that purpose But the person in question was resting.

“His father had him in the brothel’s I gave Soon ho enough for him to release his own son” Jinseok sighed. “I didn’t so much buy him as pay for his freedom if he chooses to leave this home I won't stop him. He deserves to live his life how he wants too” He shifted to lean on the wall looking down.

Joonha walked up to Jinseok. "You... You love him don't you" He didn't want to hear the answer but part of him knew he had to know the answer. He loved Jinseok he had for years now he told himself they would have their chance one day.

"I think so yeah," Jinseok said looking up at Joon Ha. "I'm sorry Joon I know I gave you a promise to try to see you as more than that boy i met a hundred years ago."

Joon Ha took a step back when Jinseok reached out for him. He was afraid he'd shatter if Jinseok touched him right now. "Its fine" Joon ha smiled through the pain in his chest. "I just mean we were not meant to be" He was the one to look down this time trying to process.

“Please don't,” He said looking up “I’m not as fragile as my father seems to think I am,” he said smiling. “I hope he returns your feelings”

He turned to leave when he was pulled back into an embrace. he pushed against Jinseok.

“I’m sorry I want to give you what you want I really do Joon,” Jinseok said as Joon ha still pushed at his chest but Jinseok was stronger

“Don’t” Joon ha let out quietly. Jinseok let him got this time. The young half-demon looked at his friend. “I’m gonna go I’ll see you around”

Jinseok nodded letting Joon Ha go this time. The young male walked aimlessly through the city. He was unsure of where he was going until he found himself in the one place his father forbid him from going since Hyukbin entered Joon Ha’s life. He was about to knock on the door when it Open and Jang woo came out with a look that could kill.

“Oh look it's the little twit” Jang woo laughed. “He's inside” Jang woo walked past Joon ha and almost made it to the street when Joon ha jumped him. he was hurt and angry and Jang woo tipped the scales.

“Why do you hate me” He yelled as he hit Jang Woo

“Easy he’d love you but not his own son” Jangwoo hissed getting away form Joon Ha.

“I don't Love anyone” a voice rang out Joon ha looked up to see Hyukbin standing in the doorway only for him to walk back into the home leaving the door open.

“Fucking crazy” Jangwoo muttered leaving Joon ha stood there for a moment then made his way into the house.

“Hmm, anger suits you,” Hyukbin said closing the door behind Joon Ha. “Another reason for your father to hate me”

Joon Ha looked at Hyukbin then moved over to him kissing him strongly. “I don't want to feel make me forget” he muttered. Hyukbin smirked into the kiss. “You always come to me when he hurts you why is that”

“You're my lie,” Joon ha said looking at the sin before him. “But im not here to sleep with you” He looked down. ‘I”m done You told me to tell you when I was ready.”

Hyukbin smiled pulling Joon Ha close this time kissing him softly then moved to whisper in his year. "Do you know how long I have wanted you?" He said. "The pain it will cause your father."

"It's not me you want one of us to be a part of your collection" Joon ha muttered not letting himself think for one second he was special to Hyukbin.

"My necklace will look lovely around your neck" Hyukbin smirked. Joon ha just looked up at Hyukbin.

"I lied I want my Lie before I die" Joon ha said moving to kiss Hyukbin again. He pulled at the Sin's clothing as they made their way to the bedroom

Joon ha woke up sore rubbing his eyes. he looked around Hyukbin was gone usually he stayed with Joon Ha while he slept after. He sighed letting his arm trail down his body. When it hit his neck he looked down. A red necklace the one Hyukbin left with the people he killed. Joon ha looked at it. "It is pretty" he muttered. He got up looking for his pants.

Stepping out into the hall he listened for Hyukbin but the house was quiet. Or it was for a brief moment. He was nearly hit by Hyukbin who was thrown into a wall. Then he heard the voice.

"You will not touch my son," Kyosuk said walking into view.

Hyukbin laughed. 'Oh I have in so man ways" He got up and lunged at Kyosuk. "He came to me respect his choice.

"He's in pain he doesn't know what he wants" Kyosuk yelled using his body weight to flip Hyukbin.

"Dad"

"You quite" Kyosuk hissed. "I'll have my words with you after I'm done with this one.

"Oh take him, He'll come back" Hyukbin laughed. "I fuck him just right"

The comment earned him a fist to the face then Kyosuk pulled out a knife. Joon ha recognized that He moved between them. "Stop I'll come home Ok. let's go"

He knew despite his father having one of the blades that could kill a sin. Hyukbin was strong with all the anger in the room. He didn't want to see his father die tonight.

Kyosuk nodded and moved to lead Joon ha out. Joon Ha followed his head down in shame. He was also angry he knew how his father knew where he was. Jin Seok must have followed him.

"I'll give you what you want Little one" Hyukbin called out.

"And you have a war" Kyosuk hissed pulling Joon Ha in front of him. "Walk"

To be continued

#the red necklaxe

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emospritelet · 6 years

Note

DH #70 pls

70: “this is why I fell in love with you”

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Part 26] [Part 27] [Part 28] [Part 29] [Part 30] [Part 31] [Part 32]

Prompts all come from this list.

AO3 link

Last time, Belle ended up talking to Neal about his neglectful mother, and worked out that he may be Gold’s long-lost son Bailey. Here’s what happened when she went to tell Gold of her suspicions.

For a moment there was a heavy silence, in which Gold imagined that he could hear his heart thumping hard in his chest. His skin was tingling, as though the hair on the back of his neck had risen, and his licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

“What?” he whispered.

Perhaps he had misheard. Surely he had misheard. Belle’s hands tightened on the bag of cookies with a crackle of brown paper, briefly catching her lower lip in her teeth.

“I - I think I might have found him,” she repeated. “I think - I think it might be Neal.”

She was wide-eyed and nervous, almost frightened, clutching that damn bag of cookies like it was a talisman. He became aware of a pain in his hand, and glancing down, saw that he was gripping his cane so hard his knuckles were white. Easing his grip a little, he shook his head

“No,” he said. “No, that’s - that’s not possible.”

He began pacing the floor, striding swiftly back and forth in agitation, the cane tapping on the floor.

“I talked to him,” Belle went on hesitantly. “He said his mother’s name was Milah Bonny, that his real name was Bailey Bonny. That he was born in Newcastle on May first, and they moved over here when he was around two.”

“No,” he said automatically.

“Alexander,” she said gently. “I’m not lying.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

He cut off, unsure of what to say. His pulse was throbbing, his chest heaving, and his skin felt as though electricity was coursing over it to burrow into him and twist in his hair, making his teeth ache. He stared at the ground, unseeing.

“You said something seemed familiar about him,” she said carefully. “You said it felt as though you had met before.”

“Yes,” he breathed. “But - but I looked, I - I fucking hunted for him! I couldn’t find a trace of my son after the age of eight!”

“He said they moved over here when he was around two,” she said. “He remembers living in Florida. Said they moved around a lot.”

Gold clutched at his chest as a lance of pain went through him. She never did stay still. Always restless, always searching for something. I wonder if she ever found it. He was still shaking his head, still pacing, as though that would help.

“It can’t be,” he whispered. “All these years I’ve looked for him, and he turns up in Boston with a wife and son, and just happens to be one of your best friends? That’s insane!”

“Well, talk to him,” she said. “Ask him what he remembers about his early life, about his mother. It was only when he mentioned her name that I thought to ask about her.”

He shook his head again, still pacing, his shoes squeaking faintly on the wooden floor as he walked to and fro. There was a rattle of plastic and an excited squeal from Gideon as he pushed one of the coloured shapes into the hollow ball. Bae was a little too old for that, when he came back to me. He liked me to read to him. He liked to paint with his fingers. The mess he would make in the kitchen, but such bright colours.

“He said his mother was dark-haired, and pretty,” Belle said. “That she told him they shared the name of a famous pirate. That she loved the sea, and named him Bailey after a sailor she knew.”

Gold could feel tears starting in his eyes, the pain in his chest spreading upwards into his throat, stabbing at him. A memory flitted through his head, Milah singing a sea shanty to their son on one of the rare evenings she had spent in the house they shared for so brief a time. Could it be him? Could fate have led him here? Led him home?

“And his father?” he asked thickly.

“She told him that they met in Glasgow,” said Belle. “That his father was Scottish, and that he worked all the time and never liked to have any fun. Neal doesn’t really remember his father.”

His face wanted to crumple, tears welling up as his lower lip trembled, and he quickened his pace, as though by traversing the shop floor he could somehow outrun his pain.

“But his name…” he began, even as he knew it was a useless objection. Names could be changed.

“He said - he said he ended up on the streets,” said Belle uncomfortably. “That he fell in with a bad crowd. Took on a new identity, tried to forget who he was. Tried to forget the woman who abandoned him.”

Gold turned on his heel, grounding the cane in front of him as he hunched over, his body trembling with a mixture of shock and grief and the first, faint stirrings of rage.

“She didn’t come back?” he whispered. “She left him?”

“Yeah.” He heard Belle shift her feet, discomfort clear in her voice. “She left him with Social Services. Never returned. He said - he said he was seven.”

Gold felt his jaw clench, his lower lip tremble. He wanted to break something!

“But I wanted him,” he said, his voice rising. “I would have taken him, I would have given him a home! For pity’s sake, I loved him! Why did she do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did she take him from me only to abandon him?”

His voice was shaking, and he ran a hand over his face. Belle was watching him sadly.

“I don’t know, love,” she said softly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He let out a shuddering sigh, dashing tears from his eyes. Anger boiled in him, anger and heartbreak and thick, choking guilt, bubbling within him like tar.

“No,” he said again. “No, no, It can’t be true. It’s too easy.”

“Easy?” said Belle, eyes widening. “You’ve been looking for him for years! For - for decades! Nothing about this is easy!”

“But that’s just it!” he snapped, whirling to face her. “I looked for him, and couldn’t find him! I failed him, and all the time he was out there! I told myself I’d never find him, Belle! I - I gave up on ever finding him! And now he’s here? Now he - he walks back into my life like it’s some kind of reward for my fucking abject failure?”

“You’re not being fair on yourself—”

“I gave up on him!” he insisted, tapping his chest in agitation. “And in that moment, he was lost to me. I was lost. I failed him.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said gently, and he shook his head.

“I failed him,” he whispered. “Like I failed you and Gideon.”

“You haven’t!”

She stepped forward, reaching out to grasp his forearms, blue eyes fixing on his, her expression determined.

“Look,” she said firmly. “If our story has taught me anything, it’s that it’s never too late! You have this chance to make things right! Don’t you see how wonderful that is? You could have a grandson, and a daughter-in-law, and you could have both your sons in your life! And - and you have me! And I love you!”

“I don’t deserve any of you,” he whispered.

“Stop it!” she said sharply. “I won’t let you keep doing this to yourself, do you hear me? I believe in you! You can be reunited with your son.”

Her beauty, her bright-eyed hope, was almost enough to make him believe it could all be true, that it could be real. That he could end the torment he had suffered for almost three decades and call his family complete. The faintest spark of hope flared at the heart of him, and he gently pulled out of her grasp, resuming his pacing. Gideon gurgled something from the floor, and threw a red plastic brick, a solid triangular piece that bounced from corner to corner before coming to a rest on one side. Gold skirted it, his mind whirling, fingers of doubt caressing his mind and sliding their cold nails into his soul.

“What if she lied?” he said, his voice barely audible. “What if she lied to me? What if my father was right all along, and he wasn’t mine?”

“You said that you knew it, that you felt it,” she said, from behind him. “You felt that he was yours. Like you felt it with Gideon.”

He turned slowly to face her. She was staring at him, her eyes filled with sympathy. It made him want to break down and weep on her shoulder.

“And if I’m wrong?” he whispered. “I’d have no right to speak to him, Belle. I’d have lost him all over again!”

Belle shrugged.

“Well, I guess you need to take a test,” she said. “I expect Neal might want that too.”

He nodded absently, his mind whirling. His fingers opened and closed on the handle of the cane as he raked through his thoughts.

“What if—” he began hesitantly. “What if he doesn’t want to know me? He must be so angry, and God, I wouldn’t blame him…”

Belle stepped forward, sliding her hands up his chest to his shoulders.

“I’ll speak to him,” she said gently. “I think we’ll have to take it one day at a time, but if he’s willing to take the test, can you set that in motion with your lawyer?”

He nodded quickly. Something he could do. Something he could organise. Something real.

“I’ll talk to him when they get back here,” she continued. “This is definitely a face-to-face conversation. And - and if he wants to speak to you, Emma and I can take the boys for ice cream, or something, okay?”

He nodded again, and felt her fingers slide up to stroke through the hair behind his ears.

“It may take some time,” she said softly. “He may need a little time to process things, you know? Don’t be too upset if he doesn’t want to see you straight away.”

She was right, of course, and he let out his breath in a deep sigh as an arm went around her, pulling her close against him. She smelled wonderfully familiar, and he buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I love you, Belle.”

“Well, I love you too,” she said, her voice a little muffled. “And so does Gideon. And so will Neal.”

He was by no means certain that would be the case, but it was what he needed to hear.

Belle found that the time crawled until Emma, Neal and Henry returned. Gold didn’t mention Neal again, but she could sense his growing agitation, the rising stress levels that were evident in his pacing the lounge or the back room of his shop, in his lack of appetite and restless sleep. Twice she awoke in bed to find the space beside her cold and empty, and creeping out to the landing, she heard the rhythmic tap of his cane drifting up the stairs as he traversed the lounge. She wished that she could help, but after his outburst in the shop he had remained as tight-lipped as ever, and Belle only hoped that whatever reaction Neal had to the news would not send him retreating back into himself, when it had taken her so long to coax him to be open with her.

Emma called when they were on their way back, as she had said she would. She told Belle that they would be in Storybrooke around three that afternoon, and Belle spent an anxious hour or so sitting in Granny’s with Gideon, nursing an iced tea and waiting for them to arrive. Gold had remained at the shop, under her instructions, and she suspected that he was slowly going out of his mind.

At last she saw their car pass by the window, and almost spilled her tea jumping out of her seat with Gideon in her arms. She rushed out of the diner, bouncing on her toes on the top step as she waited, and sagged with relief as she heard Henry’s piping voice around the corner.

“There’s Belle!” he exclaimed, waving to her enthusiastically. “Hey, Belle!”

She waved back, smiling as Emma and Neal appeared behind their son, Neal carrying a bag and dragging another on wheels behind him.

“Good timing,” said Emma, with a grin. “I’d kill for a coffee.”“I got a table for us,” said Belle hurriedly. “Are you guys checked in?”

“Not yet,” said Neal, hefting the bag. “Why don’t I go do that? You guys can get started on the coffees.”

“See?” said Emma lightly. "This is why I fell in love with you.“

She kissed him, handing over the bag she was carrying, and Neal shouldered it with a grin.

“I’ll give you a hand,” said Belle, quickly, and turned to Emma. “Could you watch Gideon?”

“Uh - sure.”

Emma looked a little bemused, but took Gideon from her arms, and Belle grasped the suitcase on wheels from Neal, striding off in the direction of the inn’s entrance. She could hear him following her, and she elbowed open the door to the inn, marching to the desk and smacking her hand down on the bell that sat there. Her heart was pounding, and it seemed to take an age for Granny to arrive. Neal sauntered up beside her just as Granny bustled in, adjusting her glasses on her nose. She smiled when she saw her visitors.

“Back already?” she said. “I can give you the same rooms, if you like. Not much in the way of tourism in this town, more’s the pity, so you can pretty much take your pick.”

“Same rooms would be great,” said Neal, digging in his pocket for some money. “Just one night. We’re headed back to Boston tomorrow.”

“Well, I sure hope we see you again,” said Granny, and handed him the keys. “Breakfast’s from six.”

“I’ll be sure to order some of those awesome pancakes,” said Neal, with a wide grin. “Thanks a lot.”

Belle’s anxiety was rising as she waited for him to get the room keys, but at last he was done, and she followed him up the stairs and along the corridor to room 4. Neal unlocked the door, tossing the bag onto the bed and turning to face her.

“Okay,” he said. “What’s up?”

“I think I might have found your dad,” she blurted.

Neal blinked at her, a bemused expression on his face.

“Come again?”

“Your dad,” she went on. “I - I think I found him.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said, and she nodded vigorously.

“I think - I think it’s Alex,” she said, her mouth dry. “He - he had a son, you see. A son whose mother took him away when he was two, and he could never find them again. Her name was Milah. Milah Bonny, and - and his son’s name was Bailey. Bae.”

Neal was staring at her, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. He shook his head.

“No,” he said, and Belle sighed.

“Look, I already went through this with him,” she said. “I’m not lying.”

Neal shook his head again, turning on his heel and beginning to pace just as Gold had, a hand running over the back of his neck. Belle threw up her hands.

“Why do you think I asked you so many questions about your mother?” she asked. “I recognised her name from things he’d told me. I recognised yours.”

“But - but I don’t remember him,” said Neal automatically. “I never knew him. Where the hell was he?”

“He looked for you!” said Belle pleadingly, stepping forward and grasping his hands. “He was desperate to find you! Even moved over here when he heard a rumour she’d taken you to the US!”

“Can’t have wanted me that badly if I didn’t even have his name,” said Neal bitterly, and pulled out of her grip. “I had nothing to go on when I was trying to track him down. He wasn’t even on the damn birth certificate!”

“Because he didn’t know!” insisted Belle. “She left, and he had no idea she was pregnant until she turned up again two years later! Said she stuck around for eight months or so, and then one day she was gone, and you with her!”

Neal paused in his pacing, staring at her, but then shook his head again, resuming his agitated stride.

“No, I - I can’t,” he said firmly. “This - this is crazy! You’re telling me that the guy who broke your heart is my dad? That Gideon’s my goddamn half-brother?”

Belle straightened up.

“I - I guess,” she said. “That - is a little weird, not gonna lie.”

“You’re telling me,” said Neal flatly. “And it’s not as though this guy has a stellar history of child-rearing, is it?”

“From the moment he knew about Gideon he’s been a terrific father,” said Belle. “He didn’t know I was pregnant, remember? Things would have been different if he had.”

“Easy to say now.”

“He wanted you!” she persisted. “Just as he wants Gideon! Please, just talk to him. I’m not asking you to do it now, if you’re not ready, but - but at least think about it.”

Neal stopped pacing, letting his head roll back with a sigh, and ran his hands over his face. He met her eyes over the tops of his fingers, and she wondered why she had never realised they were the same colour and shape as Gideon’s. In the past he had been mistaken for Gideon’s father by strangers, and they had laughed over it. Neal let his hands fall.

“I’ll talk to Emma,” he said. “I can’t make any promises, okay? This is a lot to take in. We don’t even know if my mother told him the truth. If - if she even knew who my dad was.”

“True enough,” she agreed. “That’s a worry for him, too.”

“Okay,” he said. “So - let me talk to Emma. Decide how I’m gonna deal.”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either, and Belle thought it was about as good as she was likely to get, in the circumstances. She stepped forward, rising up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, and he hugged her tight.

“We’ll be ready,” she said softly. “When - when you’re ready, I mean.”

“Okay,” he said again, his voice a little gruff. “Let’s go down. Emma and Henry will be wondering where the hell we are.”

Belle stayed at the diner for long enough to share a cup of coffee with them, but Neal was preoccupied, and Emma noticed, her brow crinkling whenever she looked at him. Belle excused herself once the coffee was drunk, strapping Gideon into the stroller and cheerfully agreeing to dinner before she left. She figured Neal would decide whether he wanted to keep that appointment, but suspected he wouldn’t.

It was nearing four-thirty when she returned to the shop, and the mix of wariness and hope on Gold’s face as she entered made her want to cry. Belle pushed the stroller to him, flicking on the brake with her foot before meeting his eyes.

“He says it’s a lot to think about,” she said.

Gold seemed to sag a little, sinking back onto his left foot, but nodded.

“Only to be expected,” he said quietly.

“He didn’t say he wouldn’t see you,” added Belle quickly. “Just that he needed to think about it. And - and talk things over with Emma.”

“Of course,” he said. “It’s - it’s a lot to take in.”

“Exactly!” she said brightly. “Try not to worry too much, okay?”

He nodded again, not looking at her, and Belle chewed her lip.

“You want dinner?” she asked. “I should really make something for Gideon.”

“I - I thought I might stay here awhile, if that’s alright,” he said. “Perhaps later.”

“Okay.” She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “Call if you need anything.”

Gold watched her go, the bell above the door ringing merrily as she left, and made his way into the back room. He needed a distraction. Something to stop his mind from creating the disastrous scenarios it was wont to come up with. There was a silver tea set on his bench, the pieces wrapped in newspaper and stacked in a cardboard box. A recent acquisition, and one he had been meaning to clean. Perfect. He shrugged off his suit jacket and took an apron from the peg behind the door, slipping it on. He estimated that polishing the tea set would keep him busy for two hours. With any luck, he would be two hours closer to being reunited with his son.

It was growing dark. Gold had finished polishing the tea set and had set it out in one of the glass cabinets, ready for sale. He had moved onto repairing the spine of an old book, a fiddly operation which required a good deal of concentration. The tinkle of the doorbell pulled his attention away from his work, and he pushed back from the bench, getting his cane underneath him just as the curtain to the shop was pushed aside. Neal walked into the room, stopping dead and letting the curtain fall behind him. Gold felt as though he was holding his breath, and Neal nodded to him.

“Hey,” he said curtly.

He was wary, hovering near the doorway with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders a little hunched. Gold flexed his fingers on the cane handle, nervous and unsure.

“I - ah - I understand Belle has spoken with you,” he said.

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence. Gold felt ridiculously out of his depth. What could he say to the man who might be his son? What could possibly make up for almost thirty years of being apart? Perhaps it would be best to keep things polite and formal for now.

“Well, thank you for agreeing to see me,” he said, hating the awkwardness in his voice. “I imagine you must have questions.”

“Don’t know yet,” said Neal. “I mean we don’t know if - if this,” he gestured between them, “is anything, right?”

“Right,” said Gold softly, and Neal shifted his feet.

“Belle told me what you told her,” he said. “About - about who your ex was, and the son she took.”

And the rest? Did she tell you how I looked for him? Did she tell you what he meant to me?

“Yes,” he said, pleased at how calm he sounded. “I have to confess to being shocked when she told me of your background. There are too many similarities for it to be a coincidence, in my opinion.”

“Maybe.”

He was cautious, reserved, and Gold couldn’t say he blamed him. They would have been difficult decades for him, too. Decades of neglect and dashed hope and disappointment. Gold hesitated, then crossed to where his suit jacket hung and reached into the inside pocket, drawing out a thick envelope and holding it out. He had carried it with him for the past couple of days, in the hope that he would get to hand it over.

“I wrote down everything I could remember,” he said. “Dates, places, descriptions. Perhaps something will jog your memory. Perhaps not.”

Neal nodded, and reached out to take it.

“I’ll take a look,” he said, and Gold hesitated again.

“I - I don’t know if Belle mentioned it,” he said. “But I recently had a paternity test for Gideon.”

“You made her take a test?”

Neal’s voice was dry, somewhat accusatory, and Gold sucked his teeth.

“It was necessary for the legal side of things,” he said. “I - I wondered if that would be something you’d be willing to do.”

Neal stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.

“Guess I’ll know then, at least,” he said. “Sure. We’ll take the test.”

“Thank you,” said Gold, allowing himself to relax a tiny amount. “If the result is positive, then perhaps—”

“One step at a time, okay?” interrupted Neal. “Gotta say, I’m still not sure how I feel about this piece of news. Still only really know you as the guy who knocked up my friend and broke her heart.”

“Right,” said Gold, feeling disheartened, and trying not to show it. “Of course. We’ll - we’ll wait for the results before discussing anything further.”

“How long will that be?”

“It took a few days last time, but I need to obtain a test first,” said Gold. “Will you be staying in Storybrooke? I could have it couriered here. It would arrive tomorrow.”

Neal eyed him for a moment, then nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “We were planning on heading back in the morning, but I guess we could leave it until later.”

“Thank you.”

Gold shifted his feet, opening and closing his hands on the cane.

“Well, let me speak to my lawyer,” he said. “I’ll get that test sent out first thing. Was - was there anything else you wanted to ask?”

“No, I—” Neal had turned away, as though he was leaving, but was frozen in place, frowning at the shelves by the door. He took a step forward, reaching up, his fingers closing around the plush body of the toy rabbit that Gold had carried with him for almost thirty years.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked softly.

“It belonged to my son,” said Gold calmly. “It’s the only thing of his that I have. It was his favourite toy, and I’ve kept it with me always.”

Neal turned the rabbit over and over in his hands, a frown creasing his forehead, and Gold could feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. Would this be the moment? Would he remember?

Neal seemed to jerk out of a reverie, and shook his head, pushing the rabbit back onto the shelf before stepping back, head bowed. His eyes darted around the room before fixing on Gold’s shoes, and finally flicking up to stare at a point just below his left ear.

“We’ll take the test,” he said quietly. “We’ll take the test and then we’ll see.”

#hey nonny nonny #fic: dark heart #rumbelle fic #my fic

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