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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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The first summer after the incident at Starcourt, things have finally had enough time to slowly ease back into normalcy.

The day after school lets out, the kids talk Steve into letting them come swim in his pool. It’s only for a couple of hours, and honestly, it does them all some good, the kids getting to pretend things are okay for a while, and Steve getting to soothe that worry that crept in every time he didn’t have an eye on all of them, so despite the guilt they all certainly felt for having fun, they let themselves enjoy it, for a little while at least.

The gimmick of what made summer fun ran out pretty quickly for them though, so once they’d all gotten sunburnt shoulders and had tangles in their hair and wrinkles on their fingers from the chlorinated water, they decided it was time to go home. They weren’t up for the arcade or ice cream after the pool like they used to be either, but they had had just under a year now to decide they were okay with that.

So Steve loads them all up into his new Mercedes-Benz, the replacement for the BMW that became necessary post battle when they discovered his car had been crushed at some point during that night by the Mind Flayer, and took them all home.

Max’s house was the last on his route no matter which way he went, the only member of the party who lived on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town now that the Byers’ had moved, so it’s just the two of them in the car. As they pull up outside though, she hesitates to get out, instead nervously picking at the stitches in the seat, mulling over something in her head.

They aren’t really close, no bond between them beyond babysitter and grumpy teenager not happy to have one, but Steve feels an obligation towards all of these kids, so he shifts in the seat so he’s facing her, and asks her in a way he hoped sounds approachable, “What’s up, Max?”

Max takes another second and a deep breath before speaking, wringing her hands nervously, “Billy’s birthday is in a few days and I don’t think anybody knows that, but I want to do something for him.”

Steve nods, doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do at first, “Have you talked to your mom about this?”

He asks because word traveled fast in a small town like Hawkins. Everyone and their mother knew that Neil Hargrove had split before they’d even stabilized his son in the hospital, and his wife had stayed with their children, taking full responsibility for Billy and Max. If anyone should be having a party for Billy, it should be Susan.

“Yeah and she liked the idea, but she’s been really busy with work and stuff, double now with Billy’s medical bills, and I know a lot of the other parents are too and some of them I just don’t know well enough to ask, and I don’t know who else to turn to because normally I’d take this stuff to Billy and I can’t do it by myself.” Max rambles all in one breath, has clearly been thinking about this for a long time.

Steve obviously wants to encourage that, so he asks, “What did you wanna do for him?”

“I just wanted to have a party for him at the hospital, but I know that’s kinda dumb since nobody goes to see him anyways.” Max mumbles, wrapping her fingers around the door handle like she’s going to get out, “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. What day is it, his birthday?”

“The sixth. I know that’s kinda short notice but-“ Max starts again, but Steve interrupts, a small smile on his face as if to prove he’s genuine, “No, it’s fine. We’ll figure something out. We’re not going to let Billy be alone on his birthday.”

It doesn’t seem to have the effect Steve wanted though, because Max scoffs and pushes the car door open, snapping before she gets out, “You do every other day.”

Even though Max had been so short with him at first, after that, she and Steve work on a plan at the end of every day when he was driving her back home, Max slowly evolving from tense about even bringing it up to actually excited for this thing they were working on together for her brother.

Steve doesn’t really have the time or the know-how for home made anything, but he buys everything you typically would find at an under twenty one birthday party, balloons and streamers, a chocolate cake, per Max’s request, and a tub of Superman ice cream, also a suggestion from Max.

He doesn’t buy Billy a present, he figures he doesn’t have use for much for anything material in the hospital, and although he’s willing to help, he feels he still doesn’t really know Billy like that anymore.

Or maybe he does, he just doesn’t know if the friendship they had been reluctantly developing would withstand the strain the accident at Starcourt had put on it, and didn’t feel it was very appropriate just to show up with an expensive knick knack that would just rub his wealth in Billy’s face.

Instead, he gets him a card, because who doesn’t want a birthday card, and leaves a hundred dollars and a heartfelt note in it. The money is because he has it and Billy needs it more than he does, and a hundred dollars was standard for milestone birthdays, in his family at least, and since Billy was lucky to see his nineteenth come around, he figures this counted.

So on the sixth of June, they’re ready to celebrate Billy.

Steve drives the kids all to the hospital that day, surprised that even without El around right now to convince them to, they were all willing to come. He guesses they’d all seen how torn up Max was when Billy was admitted to the hospital, and now that eleven months later he still hadn’t got out, it was bound to be hard on her.

It wasn’t a surprise anymore, Max had let it slip to Billy a few days beforehand in her excitement, so they just went straight up to his room, each kid and Steve carrying something, decorations or food or presents.

At first, Billy doesn’t really seem to thrilled to see them, but Steve supposed he wouldn’t be either, it couldn’t be any fun aging in the hospital, especially surrounded by nobody but your little sisters friends.

But they still set it all up for him, tying balloons to his bed and hanging streamers above the door. Max sits with him and keeps him entertained with stories, but what makes his mood significantly improve is when a nurse interrupted them to give him another dose of his pain meds.

Once they’re all set up, it’s Lucas who points out, “We forgot the candles for the cake.”

And it’s Max who, without really thinking about it, reminds him, “We probably have some with all the decorations and stuff we bought.”

It’s Dustin who looks and finds a pack of candles that someone indeed had brought, and calls out, “Found some.”

But it’s Steve who is seemingly the only one able to remember that the birthday boy was still on oxygen after a lung transplant and didn’t think he needed to be blowing out any candles, reminding Dustin very pointedly, “Actually, Dustin, I don’t think we need any candles.

Of course he argues, because kids do, “C'mon Steve, it's a birthday cake. All birthday cakes have candles.”

“Yeah, but I said I don’t think this one needs any.” Steve says, through his teeth this time, nodding subtly towards Billy, and Dustin's eyes widen a little, and the candles get put back without another word about it.

Instead, Steve gives Billy the zippo from his pocket, flipping it open for him so a tiny flame dances in front of his face, “Make a wish, Hargrove.”

Billy takes the lighter, a little apprehensively, but he stays quiet, looking up at Steve as he presumably makes his wish to himself, then clicks it shut, extinguishing the flame.

Ever impatient, the kids decide that’s their cue to cut into the cake without really asking anybody, but Steve doesn’t stop them, because as Billy reminds Max when she sits down on his bedside with a piece, “I can’t really eat that right now, kiddo, but thank you.”

She blows him off, teasingly uncaring in that sibling way, “Oh, I know, that’s why I picked chocolate cake, ‘cause I know you don’t like it. I just wanted you to have one, so it felt like a real birthday.”

Billy smiles wide, holds his arms out the best he can anymore for a hug, “Aww, come ‘ere, shitbird.”

Max spends the rest of their little impromptu party at his bedside, talking to her friends but sitting with her brother, the both of them chasing that sense of normalcy that everyone else had been able to move on and achieve, but they had no chance at grasping so long as they were apart.

That is at least, until to keep himself busy while the kids argue about something, Billy reads his card from Steve, that long written out note that detailed all his feelings and regrets and thoughts about Billy that he had been grappling with since Billy was hospitalized, sorrys and thank yous and happy birthday, everything crammed into that card but the part about how Steve had been falling in love with Billy since they met in ‘84.

It makes Steve nervous, twitchy and vulnerable with Billy reads it, until he gently closes the card and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and a little teary.

The first thing he says is an unrelated question, ruffling his little sisters hair and asking her, “Maxi, can you go down to the vending machine at the end of the hall and grab me some stuff? I’m running out of candy to hide in the bedside drawer.”

Max nods and slides down from his bed, and Billy adds, “Take all your friends too. See if they want anything.”

He waits until all the kids are gone, their voices echoing distantly down the long hallway, to ask Steve, “D’you do all this for me, Harrington?”

Steve shrugs, not sure if he’s more humble or nervous about why Billy wanted to talk to him alone, “It was Max’s idea.”

“But you still organized it, right?”

“I guess. I don’t want a thank you or anything though.” Steve insists, but Billy smiles, a bright one like Steve hardly ever saw anymore, and insists right back “Too bad, you’re getting one. Thank you.”

Steve just shrugs again, “It’s your birthday, Hargrove. I wasn’t going to let you be forgotten.”

“I would’ve been okay, Steve. Birthdays were just… never really a thing in my family anyways.”

Steve can tell they were going to go back and forth all day, arguing over whether or not he should be celebrated, and if he needed someone by his side, if he doesnt change the subject, so he asks him, “What’d you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you that or it won’t come true.” Billy hums, thoughtful, and he says, sounding like his sister, “And it’s sort of dumb anyways.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not dumb. If it’s something you want, it can’t be.”

Billy looks up at him, a little smile on his face, and explains, “I don’t know it’s just, I’m going to be sick for the rest of my life, I’m stuck in the hospital for another month at least and my dad disowned me, but, my wish still wasn’t for any of that to change.”

“What was it then?”

Billy takes a deep breath, a noticeable flush to his face, “I wished that I would have the guts to finally do this.”

For a second Steve wonders what he’s talking about, worries briefly that he was going to use the distraction and the relaxed attention from the nurses on his birthday to make grand escape from the hospital or something, until Billy leans up and kisses him.

It’s chaste and it’s sweet, everything that he’d expect from anybody that wasn’t Billy Hargrove, and everything that Steve could ever have wanted. He sits down on the bed beside Billy to make the angle easier on the both of them, not breaking the kiss for even a second, bringing his hand up to cup Billy's cheek, and deepening the kiss.

They’re interrupted by the squeaking of tennis shoes on the waxy hospital floors in the hallway, the kids coming back already, so Steve pulls away, just as flushed as Billy was now and keeping one of his hands resting on top of Billy’s, “Happy birthday, Billy.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #the party #ej writer #story by ej!#also posted on my ao3!#posting this less than a half hour before my birthday is over oops

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b-rainlet · 3 years

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📓📓📓📓

- the-scarecrxw

(Since you sent 4 of those emojis I'm gonna go off but I'll stick to one in this answer and make seperate posts for the others aksnsns)

I can't give you anything Jonathan centric (that isn't Tommy/Jonathan, one of my fave rarepairs) but Jerome features in lots of my AUs.

This one is one of my faves that's entirely self-indulgent and if it ever gets written it's probably gonna be the longest fic I ever published (Again: If it ever gets written):

I gotta apologize in advance, it's just a fun little AU I haven't put too much thoughts into in terms of plotting so this is gonna be A. Long, B. Messy and C. A little chaotic

- First off, you gotta understand that @nsfwitchy2 Me had some fun with a pretty nonsensical and definitely not canon-compliant AU where Jerome and Jeremiah have three Mums (Tabby, Lee and Barbara, who all date) and live with them and Barbara Lee as their little sister.

- Ecco also lives with them, she sees herself as both the twins' gf more than a genuine part of the family tho (for now)

- (Meanwhile at Wayne Manor Alfred and Jim date and are very tired parents of Bruce and his clone 514A, in this AU - and pretty much every AU - nicknamed Brook)

- (Selina kinda goes back and forth between living at Wayne Manor or at Lee's place)

- Also, everyone dates. The twins. The clones. Eccomiah, Jecco, Batcat, Valeyne, Wayleska, they're all fucking

- Which isn't THAT important for this particular AU but I figured I'd give a warning xD

- This is mostly my attempt to give Tabitha some more backstory? Just...how I personally see her character and how I could see her end up if things would've went differently after S2

- The google docs file is called 'How Tabitha started being a Mum while disregarding canon completely' lmao

- Like her current life involves having 4 kids (if you count Selina) and two wives and that's a hell of an AU and I just like to overthink things and play with the way things would have needed to have gone in canon to have her 'end up' like this

- Also I can see her struggling with having a family all if a sudden (that isn't a manipulative brother or a weird cult)

-Especially if that involves Motherhood

- So on one hand it's a 'S2 until now' fic, explaining what happened to her in my canon

- But also - mostly because I find that easier to organize in my brain - it's interwoven with a 5+1-esque fic of all her children calling her 'Mum' (and her getting emotional over that)

- So it switches back and forth between the past and the present but for rambling's sake, I'll start with the past

- She still leaves Theo behind and flees with Silver but she keeps Silver close instead of immediately sending her away

- And her and Silver get taken in by Fish after they leave Theo because they have nowhere to go and Fish loves taking care of strays

- (Fish, who probably didn't end up in Indian Hill but rather lives in hiding until she is ready to strike against Penguin)

- She refers to herself as Liza's Mother in canon, you can't tell me she wouldn't instantly adopt Tabby and call her 'Honey' and give her motherly advice while Tabby tries to be all bite but actually enjoys somebody taking care of her for once

- Selina🤝Tabby

'Trying so very hard all the time to not show how soft and insecure they are'

- Actually, I'd start diverting from Canon even sooner aksnsjd

- Well not full on changing canon, but I'd...pepper in some stuff

- Like some scenes of her back with Theo and the Maniax

- Mostly her talking to Theo about Jerome's planned murder, which, yeah, she knows it's been set in stone from the beginning but that doesn't mean that she isn't talking about alternatives where he doesn't get killed off

- And Theo's like "Don't tell me you're going soft. No one will miss him. He was just a boy. Not worthy enough to be remembered."

- And later on she betrays him and goes 'I remember him'

- Anyway, they stay with Fish for a while but Tabby doesn't wanna keep Silver in Gotham

- So she sends her back to the school she went to before coming to Gotham with Theo (but makes sure their weird cult can't get their hands on her there)

- And Silver wants her to come with but Tabby says she has some unfinished business

- Aka she just doesn't wanna leave Barbara (who is in a coma atm, if Memory serves right)

- And Tabby's reasoning is that it's not safe in Gotham but really, she thinks she can't be responsible for another person

- "She needs a mother. A Family. I can't give her that." - "You are her family."

- So Silver's out of the picture and Tabby hangs with Fish until Barbara wakes up and they get together again (and never ever seperate)

- Also there's no Butch/Tabby because that was unnecessary as fuck

- And I gotta be honest, I haven't thought more about canon because Butch/Tabby alone makes my head hurt already but somehow they start dating Lee

- Who brings Jerome into the relationship because I sure am fond of Lee being Jerome's Mother (like as in, I have several wips with that concept alone not counting this one)

- Jerome probably came back to life after S3 and Lee fought to have him not be treated like a violent criminal but rather a child who was taken advantage of and after his release from Arkham (where she visited him and made sure he got some proper treatment) it seemed natural to have him live with her

- (But also he's still a criminal aksnsjs, you can see how much I thought about this)

- (Sue me for sticking to the heartfelt scenes and avoiding the mess that is plotting)

- Tabby and Barbara already had Selina and through Jerome, Jeremiah and Ecco were added et voila! Their Family is complete

- (Why exactly Barbara Lee exists if Tabby and Barbara have been non-stop dating since S2 I can't tell you, I simply think she is neat and I like the idea of big brother Jerome)

- (This AU? Self-indulgent? Why would you ever think that?)

- In the present however she is dealing with what is mostly referred to as 'feelings'

- Mostly panic at realizing that the bunch of weird children she's been living with are seeing her as some kind of parental figure

- Because suddenly they all call her 'Mum'

- Unsurprisingly the first one to call her Mum is Jerome at breakfast

- She's reading the newspaper and there's an article about a hostage situation the twins planned and he goes 'Mum, are you done with that? Can we see?'

- And they snatch it from her and argue about how they didn't even make the front page while Tabby nearly chokes on her coffee

- And of course she breaks down talks to her wives about it later while they get ready for bed because no one ever called her 'Mum' before

- Barbara's braiding her hair, while Lee's off to the side, getting ready for bed and it's very domestic and I am very gay

- But neither see it as a big deal because both of them have been called Mum before (by Jerome at least. Like. Immediately upon meeting them)

- So she's trying to be nonchalant about it because it's only a big deal if she makes it one

- While also not being able to deny the warm feeling that spreads throughout her body when Jerome keeps calling her 'Mum'

- Miah and Selina on the other hand are both hesitant to call anyone Mum

- Miah cause of Pride, Selina cause of her Mummy Issues

- But they both do at some point

- I think I have more notes on this SOMEWHERE but I kinda wanna have Miah call her Mum while he's ill (because we all know he'd be super fussy and want attention 24/7)

- So she humours him and while he's close to falling asleep - and she's totally not carding her fingers through his hair because she isn't soft or anything - he mumbles: "Thank you Mum" and she melts

- Selina would be more angsty

- Like, maybe it's her birthday and she disappears for a while (as she tends to do) but Tabby (who's closest to her) knows how hard this day is for her (since again her Mum isn't there with here and looks for her and brings her back home but doesn't make a big fuss out of her birthday

- Just...lets her be, gives her space but also lets her curl up close to her and maybe Selina doesn't call her Mum on that exact day

- But it's the day she realizes she wouldn't mind calling Tabitha her Mother, so she hesitantly tries it out a while later (maybe days, maybe weeks, however long it takes for her to feel comfortable with it) and they share a smile

- Then there's Barbara Lee, but she barely counts because she's a toddler and calls everyone 'Mummy'

- Even her father ajsnsnsn

- The last one would be Ecco because I have a very soft spot for Tabby and Ecco being close

- Ecco's rather formal with them for the longest time (she calls Barbara, Lee and Tabby 'Ma'am' for the most part because she may like them, but she doesn't think they see her as family. She's just the token girlfriend).

- So there's a scene where they connect, possibly over Tabby's hand and Ecco's head since I hc that Ecco gets headaches and migraines a lot (considering that she still gets shot in the head by Miah, like I said, this AU isn't necessarily the most bullet proof in terms of linear timelines)

- But so is Gotham so-

- So there's possibly a scene where Ecco's headache is getting super bad and no one's around (especially not Miah to dote on her) and Tabby awkwardly tries to bond by telling her about her hand and how she can't feel much (is a little clumsy with it) and Ecco immediately imprints on her like a duckling

- Maybe it's even the first time anyone reached out to Ecco in a way that feels genuine, especially without the twins or any of her (various) other partners being present so now she's willing to die for Tabby

- Which ends in her also calling her 'Mum' (while she keeps calling Lee and Barbara 'Ma'am' and Lee's so mad ajsnsjdj she was trying so hard to bond with this kid but couldn't quite get it right and you're telling her her socially pretty clumsy - but still wonderful of course - wife managed with just one conversation?? Slander

- And of course because I can't stop myself, there would be even more tidbits here and there of Tabby overcoming her previous way of living (as in, thinking caring or showing emotions is weakness) by having her reminisce a LOT about Theo

- For example by having Jerome climb into bed with her while Barbara's sleeping and Tabby is waiting for Lee to come home

- Lee works as a doc in the narrows which may be a little illegal, but the people didn't just stop needing help after her Queen of the Narrows arc was over, so I vote she keeps at it (and is held in very high regard for it by pretty much everyone)

- Tabby always stays up until everyone is home because she likes knowing where everyone is and that they're safe while Jerome has frequent nightmares and wanders around the house, so this isn't a rare occurrence

- And sometimes, they talk Theo

- "You miss him?" - "Don't know."

- "I wish he was still alive so I could kill him." - "....Me too." - "Which one?" - "...Both."

- (ajajsbssj this is all just copy pasted and cleaned up a lil', leave me and my pretentious way of writing dialogue alone)

- Tabby also has a lot of interludes where she thinks about what growing up with Theo was like/her childhood in general

- How she always protected him from other children bullying him and how they swore to have each other's back but how in hindsight, she was the one doing all the dirty work for him, helping him fulfill his dream and enact his revenge

- Realizing that he probably never cared for her, not like she cared for him

- There's also allusions to them having sex because you cannot tell me they did NOT have sex

- And it ends with Tabby realizing that she is quite happy with how she ended up, even if it's neither how she thought she would ever live nor what her old self would've even wanted, possibly seeing too many attachments as 'weak' judging by the way she canonly used Butch for convenience sake at first

- And yeah, maybe now she can provide the family - the Mother - somebody else desperately needs

- So she brings Silver home

#This isn't at all presentable #Because the AU is all over the place still #But I am sharing it anyway #Tag: Happy Family #Long Post #WIP Rambles

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ikeromantic · 4 years

Text

Gift

Day 23 of Ikemektober!

I picked Fenrir for this one! Approx. 1200 words of fluff!

@ginshoujo ‘cause it’s got some Seth goodies in it too ^_^

Fenrir frowned over the selection of chocolates the patissiere had on display. They were the finest candies you could get in Cradle. Magically crafted to appear as flowers, clouds, magic crystals, birds in flight . . . Alice would love them. But as he motioned for the candy maker to wrap them up, he couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t enough.

He had to get his partner something perfect. Something that would show her how much he loved her.

“Those are nice.” Ray’s voice made Fenrir jump, but he tried to play it cool, like he meant to take a step to the side.

“Yeah. She’ll like ‘em.”

Ray regarded Fenrir coolly. They’d been friends for far too long for the King of Spades not to know what his Ace was thinking.

After a moment, Fenrir shrugged. “I was thinking about picking something else up to. Maybe some earrings?”

“Didn’t you already get her earrings?”

“Yeah.” The Ace furrowed his brow in furious thought. He was just about to ask Ray if he thought shoes would make a better gift when -

“Helloooo!” Seth came out of a shop two doors down. He had a large bag in hand and the biggest smile on his face. “Shopping for Alice?”

Ray and Fenrir turned to give the 10 of Spades a wave.

Seth hurried toward them. “Oh! Candy! Is that what you got her? I thought about it, but I just had to get her something perfect.” He patted the bag.

Fenrir felt a tick of annoyance. “Well, what did you get her?”

“Me? Oh that’s a secret! Can’t have anyone spoiling the surprise.” Seth winked.

Ray held back a chuckle. “Seems like everyone is working hard to get Alice something nice for her birthday.”

Seth nodded. “Absolutely! Luka and Sirius have been in the kitchen all day making her cake! And Blanc stopped by with Oliver to drop off a box.” His trilling voice went on and on, with all the people that wanted to celebrate Alice’s birthday with her.

Fenrir wasn’t the kind of guy to get jealous. But he had to admit, he wanted his gift to be the best one. The one Alice would treasure forever. Now that he thought about it, candy was probably the worst - it would be gone as soon as it was eaten, leaving just the ribbons and box.

“Don’t look so glum, Fenrir,” Seth laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find just the right thing. You know her better than anyone - well, almost anyone.” He didn’t wait for a reply from the other two officers. “I’d best get back. I promised Luka I’d bring some cherries and he needs them to finish the cake.” He waved and sauntered down the lane.

“You really do look glum,” Ray commented.

“I just realized chocolates aren’t the best gift. You can’t treasure them after they’re eaten.”

Ray slapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll find what you’re looking for. I’ll see you at the party, ok.”

“Yeah, see you then.” Fenrir felt some of his fire come back. There was no way he wouldn’t find the perfect gift for Alice!

He walked through Central Quarter eyeing the shops. Jewelry, shoes, dresses, parasols . . . there was no end to the pretty gifts available. But none of them felt quite right. No better than the candy, really. He did find some nice green ribbons she might like for her hair, and a jade bracelet that matched the earrings he’d given her. He bought those, just because they were pretty and he wanted to see Alice wear them.

But a gift . . . a proper one that held every bit of his love . . .

The sun started to set, and Fenrir hadn’t found a thing. “Maybe I’ll just take her shopping tomorrow. Then she can pick out what she likes and she’ll know how much I love her because - because she had to!

The birthday party was fantastic. Luka and Sirius outdid themselves on food and decorations, and so many people showed up that there almost wasn’t enough space.

Dum brought Alice a special bottle of whiskey and Dean brought her a book. Seth’s mystery gift was a dress that even Fenrir could tell would look amazing on Alice. Oliver and Blanc’s giant box held a lace cap set with crystals in the shape of little feathers. Oliver said it would light up in the dark and that you could never forget it anywhere - it would know it’s way home.

Ray gave Alice a key to the officer’s house on a tiny silver chain, which almost made her cry. Loki brought a purple cat collar with a bell, which he insisted on putting around Alice’s neck. It WAS cute but Loki’s grin was pure mischief. The gifts piled up on the table, a horde of beautiful, heartfelt presents.

When it came time for Fenrir’s gifts, he almost didn’t want Alice to open them. Of course, she did. Her eyes were so big as she carefully pulled the colorful paper off the boxes. She opened the chocolates first, and was as happy with them as he had hoped she would be.

“They’re so cute! I don’t know if I can even eat them!”

“But they taste as good as they look,” he grinned back.

She popped the magic crystal-chocolate into her mouth and made a little happy squeak.

That was all it took for Fenrir to decide he’d gotten her the best gifts. She even tied one of the ribbons in her hair and wore the bracelet too.

The celebration lasted into the early morning hours, but eventually everyone trickled to home and bed. Including Alice. Her pretty lips opened in a wide yawn, and her eyes closed in long, slow blinks.

“Come on partner. I think it’s time for bed.” Fenrir picked her up from the couch.

She laid her head on his chest and murmured, “But I’m not sleepy yet!”

“You look pretty sleepy to me.”

She wiggled a little as he carried her to her room, but she didn’t really try to escape. She looked entirely too happy, curled up like that. Fenrir didn’t really want to put her down, even after they got to her room.

He kissed the top of her head and sat down on her bed instead, still cradling her to his chest.

“Are you sleeping in here tonight?” Her voice was thick with sleep, a low, sexy bedroom voice.

It made Fenrir want to say yes. But he and Alice . . . they weren’t ready - yet - for that. He had, he wanted to - the thoughts tangled in his head and his tongue was too clumsy to manage to say anything in reply to her question.

Alice opened her eyes and peered up at him. “You look so cute right now.” She sat up a little and kissed him. A deep, sweet kiss that made his heart pound. When she finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavy and pink-cheeked.

“Why’d you go and do that,” Fenrir asked.

“Because the best gift on my birthday is you.”

#ikemektober #ikemen revolution #ikerev fenrir #ikemen fenrir #fenrir godspeed #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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sleephyjhs · 4 years

Text

Internal Tigress (Special Post)

pairing: cheater!yoongi x reader

genre: heavy angst

summary: he’d been disappearing for longer each time. your voicemails haunted his inbox. you were way past the point of return, but your suppressed emotions made it hard for you to confront him. however, an elastic band can only stretch so far before it snaps.

word count: 1.9k

notes: this is so late it’s past fashionable, but thank you for 500 followers! next time i’ll have a much better surprise, i promise. i’d also like to add that this au doesn’t reflect my actual beliefs of yoongi as a person

tw: heated arguments, cheating

rules | m.list | 500 followers special

For hours, melted candle wax had dripped from the stand onto the marble kitchen counter, and for hours, you had failed to stop it. Somehow, watching the candlestick melt was less tedious than waiting for him. The burning scent of jasmine and sandalwood hung bitter in the air, not too dissimilar from Yoongi’s earlier promise.

Three years of devoting your love to him had come to this; a one-person dinner date. On such a monumental day for you as a couple, announcing he was going out by himself was reasonably unexpected. It had become apparent to you within minutes of waking up that morning that Yoongi was in fact clueless over the sentiments of that day. Not a single romantic gesture had reached your vicinity. Not even a card.

And yet you still made the effort to celebrate for him. Earlier that week when he had questioned your extra, unusual groceries, it still didn’t prod the event in his mind. The lower the candlestick burned, the more you pondered on your idiocy. Why had you even bothered? You could have bet money on Yoongi being none the wiser.

Just as the wick curled into the ceramic stand, you reminded yourself just why you made the effort. He’d become more and more distant in the last weeks. Some nights, he walked out the door without a word and wouldn’t return until the early morning. But your efforts came from not wanting to believe he had fallen out of love with you. A small part of you refused to accept your romance was virtually over.

Too many nights ago, you’d wondered if you were unreasonable. Of course, he was a grown man and you were nobody to stop him from going out. But refusing to answer his phone, or even telling you where he’d be? It became too suspicious too quickly.

With only the light from the television, you ate your half of the anniversary meal you’d prepared in the familiar silence. Even the quiet was a better conversation than what you would have had anyway. Ironically, you were usually a fan on the meals you made for yourself, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it.

To make a point, you left your used dish on the island counter opposite the full one meant for your partner. Your wine glass had stained red by the little residue left at the bottom; the wine in the other glass sat stale. Waiting for him to arrive home was a tedious couple of hours, but the saturday night shows managed to get you through it.

The monotonous beeping of the keypad outside your door led your heart to beat faster. Confrontation was a secret weapon you wielded well, but the few seconds that laid between you and Yoongi were too few to think of the right words. Really, you weren’t sure whether you were angry or disappointed, or both.

You focused your attention on the screen before you as he pushed the door open and sneaked through the gap. From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance at you before turning to the kitchen. An audible sigh echoed in your silence. Already, a few angry tears began to gather at your eyelids.

“I got you these.” Yoongi offered, walking closer to the couch. Your eyes glared to the side to see his outstretched arm holding a box of your favourite chocolates, “Listen, I’m really sorry. There’s been a lot on my mind lately and-“

“You aren’t sorry at all.” You replied bluntly, turning back to the screen. It was painful even just to be in the same room as him; there were no words you could say to him that could ever deliver your full anger in that moment, “If I hadn’t made you a whole anniversary meal then you wouldn’t have said anything to me when you walked through that door. You and I both know that.”

Another tense silence was broken by the box of chocolates landing next to your seat, “Fine. Take them or leave them.”

His blunt remark confirmed to you that he no longer cared for your relationship and prompted your growing distaste for his new character. You’d told yourself earlier that evening that a heartfelt apology might have changed your mind about your dead-end love, but all of your hope was lost. His feelings were clear enough, “I’ll leave them.”

You breathed sharply, rushing from the couch towards your shared bedroom. The tears wouldn’t stop themselves, and the last thing you needed was for him to see you so vulnerable, “Where are you going?” He asked sternly, grabbing a hold of your arm as you stormed away.

Without hesitating, you yanked your arm from his grip and swivelled to face him. Maybe seeing you so distraught would tell him a thing or two, “Get the fuck off of me. It’s obvious you don’t want to be near me, so why would I put you through it?” Raising your voice is something you hated doing, but targeting your anger at the man who caused it all was much needed.

“I just went out to get you those chocolates, I don’t see what the problem is.” But he knew what he’d done wrong. After however many years you’d known Yoongi, not once had he admitted he was wrong so quickly. If anything, he’d only confirmed what you first said; he wasn’t sorry at all.

“It doesn’t take four fucking hours to go to the convenience store. You disappear so much now, I never know where you are. I’d thought that on our anniversary you’d want to spend time with me for a change, but you didn’t remember.” He stuttered , fumbling for the words to defend himself with, “Dont bother. You’ve been done with me for a while, it was just never convenient for you to drop me.”

Salty tears burnt your throat as they smeared the mascara you’d applied generously earlier in the evening. Looking at Yoongi was torture. The man who you placed so much faith for your future in was stood before you, clearly unable to defend himself. For the second time, you headed for your bedroom, believing he wouldn’t follow.

When his hand reached your shoulder to turn you around again, the stretching elastic band in your brain snapped, “I told you to get the fuck off of me! All you had to do was be honest with me, and even that much is too hard for you? You’re unbelievable, Yoongi. Just unbelievable.”

“You do know that I’m an adult, right? You’re nobody to stop me from going anywhere, nor do you need to have tabs on me all the time.”

The ignorance of his statement dragged a scoff from your lips, “I never stopped you. You have no idea how worrying it is when I can’t get a hold of you. If there was an emergency you wouldn’t have known any better. You never used to be like this, I just don’t understand!”

Through your blurring tears, you caught Yoongi reaching for you for a third time, “Look, you’re just being hysterical now. Calm down, seriously.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You cut his speech from the beginning and leaned over your bed to reach one of his pillows, “Sleep on the couch, on the floor. Wherever, I don’t care. I’m too angry to even look at you. Wherever you were, I hope you had a better night than I did.”

The next morning, you walked out into the crispy air of your apartment to be greeted by a cleaned living space. The dishes from last night were gone, and the pillow you almost threw at Yoongi was rested on top of the folded blanket. A pounding headache had woken you from your disrupted slumber, and trying to remember what had been happened the night before was no remedy.

After you were sure he was gone once again, you thought ahead to reviving your willingness to socialise. In response to Yoongi’s disappearances, you organised a quiet night out with your best friend, on the town. Your attempts to equal his absence would be appreciated by nobody but yourself; perhaps a bit of self-care was what you needed.

Instead of sharing an anniversary meal with your ‘partner’, you treated your best friend to a bigger, more fulfilling meal just out of gratitude. She’d picked you up in your lowest points, and there she was doing it all over again.

Before you left the restaurant, you visited the bathrooms just to retouch your makeup. But in the midst of reapplying gentle blush, you caught your attention on the several jewellery items you were wearing that had been purchased by Yoongi. More coincidentally, the necklace he bought you for your first birthday as a couple and the promise ring he’d given you last year for your second anniversary.

In light of trying to bring yourself to a happier state of mind, you pushed any thoughts of him to the side and focused on the present. As hard as it was, the light humour your friend provided soon distracted you.

An activity both you and your friend enjoyed was walking through Seoul nature parks late at night. Cherry blossoms glowed humbly under moonlight, and the trickling of clear river water set the perfect atmosphere for evening strolls. Luckily, you were within walking distance. It wouldn’t have taken you long to get there.

Your friend had linked her arm with yours to guide you to the park; it was one of her ways of looking after you, making sure you couldn’t stray away from the given path. As you both giggled from another one of her lighthearted jokes, she paused in her track and gazed across the wide city road, “There’s no way that’s Yoongi over there.”

You lined your eyes parallel to hers to observe across the road, where a man and woman stood body to body in a close embrace illuminated by bright cafe lights. It was clear to see their fingers interlaced as the man leaned down to seemingly whisper in her ear. When he stood erect again, the cafe casted a light upon his face so perfect it was clear it was him. It was Yoongi.

“No, where are you going?” Before your friend could say anything to stop you, you turned back for the pedestrian crossing and stormed across with the ocean of moving citizens. In your sudden despair and anger blocked her calling for your name as you ploughed across the road. That’s where he’d been all these times. He’d been with some other woman.

As you approached Yoongi and his new fling, you unfastened the necklace that hung around your neck and slid his promise ring from the base of your finger. They were only bad omens anyway, “So this is where you’ve been? All these fucking times, you’ve been with somebody else?” You confronted him, watching in disgust as he made eye contact with you, “Here, have these back. They’re no use to me anymore.”

Without double-crossing yourself, you threw the jewellery at him, watching it fall the the dirty pavement below. You witnessed as his face fell void of thoughts. If you knew Yoongi, you knew there’d be nothing for him to say. He’d been caught by you, the worst person to be caught by, “Your shit will be outside the apartment. If it’s not gone in 3 days it’s going to charity. Thanks for the heartache, I appreciate it.”

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okaybutlikeimagine · 4 years

Text

PREVIEW: Will You Take Me as I Am?

i’m working on a fic for @biillys for something long overdue that i almost feel embarrassed talking about bc?? it was so long ago that the fundraiser has since been cancelled! have i apologized enough yet??? i don’t think i have!!

ANYWAY the title is “Will You Take Me as I Am?” and it was supposed to be super light and fun and happy and it will be but it’s also going to be angsty bc Quarantine is doing some Shit to me over here ~♥ BUT it will have things including, but not limited to:

- Billy, Steve, Max, and El bickering over music

- big long road trip to Cali

- stupid roadside attractions

- sunny summer days in San Diego

- Billy’s friends from back in the day (bc he had them and we need to talk about that!!!!)

- Max Max Max Max and Max bc Max is so good and we need to talk about her too

- Tony fucking Hawk

it’ll hopefully be done soon! this is just a super tiny snippet bc i feel awful for not having it finished yet and i need to post something or i’ll cry. so!! @biillys, i love you so much and hope you’re well and it’s COMING but until then, have this slightly sad but also heartfelt scene with our little Disaster Siblings! ♥

(title from California - Joni Mitchell bc DUH)

~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~

Driving Max to school doesn’t set Billy on edge anymore.

“And it’s just so stupid because Cindy swears to everyone that she looks like Molly Ringwald. She doesn’t stop talking about it! Like anyone even cares.”

As irritating as it might be to hear about 9th grade gossip.

“And she still makes fun of my hair. Because it’s not the ‘right’ shade of red? What the hell?”

Billy smirks and listens vaguely and thinks about a few months ago. He remembers when the fall air bit him hard. When it felt invasive and aggressive and piercing rather than just present and embracing and knowing. The chill doesn’t hurt him anymore. The sound and smell of the farms doesn’t boil his blood anymore. The idea of Max having a life here doesn’t grind away at his memories anymore.

He’s laughing without hearing her. He vaguely hopes she doesn’t take too much offense by it, but the rest of him doesn’t really care. She’ll just hit him and grumble and he’ll give a vacant yet amused apology and they’ll continue on their car ride listening to Joan Jett.

Except she doesn’t hit him. His chuckles die down and the only sound through the car is Joan Jett wailing and Max tapping her fingers on her jeans.

It’s got Billy curious. He looks over quickly and sees her mouth moving- mumbling to herself.

“Telling yourself secrets or something?”

She glares, but it’s half-hearted. She chews on her lip and then she’s looking back down at her lap.

Billy’s just a little tempted to just let it all slide, but...

“Alright, what’s up?” He caves.

The quiet of the car makes Billy nervous. The air is whipping past them through the slightly rolled down windows, shoving itself into the absences of their conversation. Billy’s fingers start fidgeting with nerves and he’s on the verge of cutting in before she can get any words out, but then Max is speaking, hurriedly and with a furrowed brow as she says-

“How old are you again?”

Billy pauses.

“The hell kind of question is that?” He asks, looking over at her incredulously, confused at the question. She’s still trying to glare.

“Shut up! Just… you’re like… graduating soon… right?”

Billy raises an eyebrow at the road.

“No, Maxine.” Billy says with dripping sarcasm. “I love high school so much I was thinking of just staying there for the rest of my life.”

“Let me talk!”

“I am letting you talk! You’re just saying stupid shit!”

“Augh, you are so annoying!”

She’s crossing her arms now, and for some reason Billy can’t find it in himself to be amused by it. So instead he heaves a little sigh and bites his lip and waves for her to continue.

She sighs back.

“It’s just… my birthday is kinda close. And yours is like, right after that. And I was… just thinking. The other day...”

She trails off, hands fidgeting and head turned to the window. She doesn’t pick back up the conversation. Iggy Pop is howling through the radio, now.

“Thinking? Pretty dangerous thing to do when you’re-”

Max hits Billy with the hardest glare yet of the car ride. He concedes.

“Alright. What were you thinking about?”

The glare softens. Her eyes fill with worry… and nerves. Billy finds something vaguely reminiscent in them, even if it’s not exactly the same as in his memory. He knows he’s being a little shit but he hasn’t done anything to warrant fear... has he? He racks his brain while they sit in the silence she lets settle between them.

“I was just thinking about… well… remember that one birthday?” She’s had a few birthdays while they’ve shared a roof. A couple of them he’s purposefully decided to forget-most notably that first one. “When you took me to the boardwalk?”

That one he definitely remembers, with more color than most memories. She was turning 12- it was right before they found out they were moving. Things had been going so well. That birthday saw them walking down the boardwalk together to pick up some ice cream sundaes and talk about friends. Old ones and new ones. Gossip and interests. Max has mentioned that birthday a few times before- she says all the time it was the first time Billy treated her like a real person. Like a sister. He used to roll his eyes at her confession until he stopped. Because he realized maybe she was right. Maybe before that, “sister” wasn’t really in his vocabulary- not with a real definition and most definitely not with a face.

It was a nice day. They skated down the boardwalk and he taught her a couple of tricks on her board and he bought her something from the knick-knack store at the corner where the boardwalk met the street. She smiled at him genuinely for the first time ever. It seemed like they could be friends.

He chews the inside of his lip. He doesn’t like to think too far past that memory.

“Yeah, I remember.”

She’s fidgeting still. He wants to slap her hands to get her to stop because it’s making his leg twitch.

“Well I was just thinking about it. And… and… well…”

She’s picking at her cuticles. He winces whenever he sees her do that. He used to do that too. Used to bite at them when he was nervous, so much it’d make his fingers bleed. He’s stopped for a year or so now. She’s still doing it. He wonders sometimes if she picked it up from watching him and his shifty eyes. He can’t take watching her so nervous and he’s starting to feel on edge and-

“Spit it out, Max.” His voice is a little snappy, but he really doesn’t mean it. She sighs rather than glares.

“Are you still gonna move out to California?” She asks, all the words slurred together like they’re one but it doesn’t matter, because Billy understands them all.

He loses his breath for a second. When he looks over, he sees her eyes are screwed shut, but then she opens them and there’s tears there. He hates seeing tears there. Something squeezes his heart at the thought that he’s responsible again... only this time he doesn’t even know what he’s done.

“Uhm-”

“Like after you graduate.”

“Uh-”

A tear falls down her cheek.

“Shit.”

She looks down at her lap. Billy looks back at the road and has to hit the breaks hard when he realizes he’s about to run a stop sign. He takes a deep breath.

“Maybe. I dunno.”

“Take me with you.”

It’s sudden. He’s staring at her and she’s staring at her hands, picking at her cuticles viciously. It’s the faint sound of someone honking behind them that gets Billy to start driving again.

“Not like… forever...” Max says in such a small voice Billy is speechless. “Just for… a little bit.”

They ride in silence for a bit. They’re almost at school. Billy almost wants to stop the car because Max is going to cry and she’s gonna be pissed about walking into school while crying.

There are too many thoughts swirling through Billy’s head, some of them colored like a carnival, before Max is speaking again.

“I just… I miss home.”

It punches Billy in the gut. His memories fade to the sand and the waves and teaching Max how to break through the surf. He’s swirling down into thoughts of ice cream and babysitting her and walking along the boardwalk and telling her to make sand castles while he ran away with his friends. Tanned skin and sun-bleached hair and darker freckles blooming on their faces.

“It was stupid.” Her voice cuts quickly through the fog of memories. “Forget I said anything.”

“What? No.” Billy can’t forget. He doesn’t know how to answer but… but she’s crying and he’s not going to pretend like that’s not something he should be worried about.

“No, it’s stupid. You’re gonna be going with Steve. I don’t even know how I’d get back… it’s fine-”

“Are you trying to live with your dad?” Billy asks because it’s the only thing that makes sense to ask right now. She shakes her head vehemently.

“No no… I wanna live with my mom. I wanna stay here. I just wanna… visit, I guess…”

He so often forgets she’s still such a kid. She’s four years away from where he is. She’s four years away from being able to be independent. From having the ability to leave. They moved and Billy felt like he had been put in a cage. The word “landlocked” was the cruelest, harshest, most disgusting word imaginable to him because to him the only synonym was “trapped”. He knew it meant staying for another two years. He didn’t think about how for her it meant six. For her it was either plant your roots or let them dry out and crack in the Indiana sun. He couldn’t see that as he screamed at her back then.

“I dunno, I just miss it.” She says, but it’s quiet as she wipes at her cheek with the back of her hand.

Billy pulls into the school and picks a spot in the back of the lot, even though the bell is gonna ring soon and it’ll probably take too long to walk onto campus. She’s still sniffling a bit and his heart is squeezing tight. His chest is constricting. He’s watching Max right now and thinking about how the Billy he was a few weeks ago and even beyond was making a whole plan to just fuck off to California with Steve. How he didn’t even give a thought to leaving Max behind with the knowledge that he’d be back in the San Diego sun. He’d be back where the world made sense and she’d be here still shoving her roots in the ground to find some comfort.

Now suddenly he can’t imagine ever doing that.

“Well uh…” He starts, but his voice is bubbled. He clears his throat and tries again. “I still gotta convince Steve… I was planning on taking him just for a trip over there. Just so he can check it out and see if he likes it.”

He hasn’t even extended an offer yet, but she turns to look at him and the only way to describe her face is glowing. She’s so hopeful. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is slightly tilted up into a smile, open a little in shock. He just shrugs it off, even though it lights up his chest.

“I guess we can squeeze you into his fancy little car.”

“Oh Billy thank you.”

She reaches across the center console to wrap him into as good a hug as she can. He rolls his eyes, but he pats her back as he does it.

“Yeah yeah… chill out.” He sounds tired to his ears, pulling away from Max and getting ready to leave the car when-

“We should take El, too.”

“What?”

Max crosses her arms, suddenly looking pretty bossy for a girl with tears still shining in her eyes. Billy can’t say he’s exactly surprised at seeing her capable of that.

“We should take El too.”

“You just invited yourself and now you’re inviting other people?”

Her brows furrow.

“She’s my best friend! And she’s like... your sister now, right?”

“Yeah yeah, but-”

“I’m going to be there all alone with just you and Steve! I’m gonna need someone to keep me company while you two try to suck face.”

“Okay I get it-”

“Plus she’s never seen the ocean! She’s never left Indiana… she’s barely left Hawkins! She needs something like this-!”

“Al-right! Alright, I get it. I’ll ask Hop, alright?”

Max seems to let up, taking a deep breath and sitting back in her seat from where she was getting dangerously close to the edge in her excitable anger.

They sit in the quiet for a second before Billy elbows her and mutters: “Trying to guilt trip me, huh?”

Max shrugs, but she’s chewing her lip and picking at her cuticles and she’s giving Billy a side eye and-

“I just wanna show her around…” Max shrugs again, like she can’t think to do anything else. “It was my home too, Billy.”

She’s still picking at her cuticles and her leg is bouncing and she… she’s so young. He’s not sure how he could forget so quickly. She left a home behind, too. And family and friends. She left a lot behind. He always forgets.

“Billy…” Max starts, voice trailing.

“Yeah?”

There’s a small beat of silence where Billy waits breathlessly.

“We’re going to California.”

It’s a statement- like there’s no doubt in her mind that it’s happening. It’s going to happen. He hears her certainty and feels it too. She’s starting with concentrated eyes down at her lap but she’s so sure it looks like it hurts.

She sniffles and his heart nearly cracks. He rubs her shoulder kind of harshly and rather than a glare she gives a sort of grateful smile. That is, before she pushes at Billy’s hand and wipes at her eye and gripes about how “we’re gonna be late.”

Billy snickers.

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #stranger things #fic #preview #biillys #i'm the worst i admit it #i've also taken up needle felting recently for when i get stressed #i made a whale today #.... anyway #disaster siblings #it's gonna have a few OCs i've made just for this just bc it ??? really needed to #they're not going to cali and NOT meeting Billy's friends... that's just not happening #i really hope you like the finished product my dear!!!#angst #fluff #i'm working with a plot bc i don't usually have any kind of plot at all when i write #and quarantine has made me a Changed Woman #also #bratty billy #♥#summer doesn't end until the 22nd of sept where i am #and i wanted this done before the end of summer #but it'll DEFINITELY be done before the end of YOUR summer in aus!!!#good lord it definitely will #anyway i love you hun #and i love all of you!!!#buhbye~

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capnjay21 · 4 years

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A House is Never Still 5/6

Five years ago, Emma Swan disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Killian Jones’ disappearance, well, not so mysterious – given the denizens of Storybrooke all but blamed him for her murder. Drawn back to town by a series of strange events, he soon realises the story of what really happened the night she vanished is beginning to unravel, and what’s more: it isn’t over.

A/N: this week really got away from me - but here is chapter five! some answers are finally upon us, as we rattle towards the story's conclusion. thank you so so so much for everyone’s support, and as ever I send many large buckets and spades of thanks to @hollyethecurious for this glorious aesthetic - which, really, made the fic write itself. enjoy!

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of suicide, canonical character death, and some Spooky Business™.

Continuing the tiny taglist I started last time - but if you want off this list, just let me know and I promise I will not be offended! <3 <3 and if anyone happens to want on the list for the last part, just give me a buzz!

@snowbellewells @carpedzem @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl

AO3 | one | two | three | four

-/-

5 - ghosts were created

October 25th 2014 – 5 Years Ago

She managed to catch David, Regina and Mary Margaret before they headed home after school, and drew them around the back of the building in order to afford some privacy. First, Emma had shown them the dagger, and then she had told them about the visit she and Killian had paid to Belle Gold. Then finally, and she had hoped Killian would forgive her for doing so, she had filled in some of the gaps in their knowledge surrounding the circumstances of Liam Jones’ suicide – the house, the papers, stuff they might have been too young to fully realise when it happened. And the fact that, some weeks before he died, he had been exploring the possibility of something more… supernatural making itself known within Brooke House. Something that the existence of the dagger might now lend far greater credence to.

Her fingertips tingled with the strange truth of it all.

Magic existed, and Emma did not know how much that changed the world.

They had been silent for a long time, exchanging doubtful looks that Emma understood but did not care for, but when it became clear she wasn’t going to jump up and shout ‘just kidding!’, David was the first to speak up.

“This is crazy, you know that, don’t you? You know this is crazy.”

“I know how it sounds,” she said, willing herself to look as sincere as possible. “And without the dagger I’d have written it all off as completely mad.” She gestured to the aforementioned implement, sitting on the ground between the four of them. None of them seemed to want to touch it.

“How did you find the dagger?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma felt her cheeks warm, and thought about how she had found herself back at Brooke House last night. None of it was clear in her memory, just vague flashes of feeling, and it was a struggle to try and muddle through the fog. When she had awoken in her room she had been tired and groggy, and it certainly felt like she had been up half the night – but the truth was she just couldn’t know for sure if that strange, breathless walk by midnight was something she had imagined. Whatever had happened, stumbling about the woods at night in her pyjamas made her an idiot, so she had already decided she would be leaving that detail out.

“I left something at the house yesterday,” she said, avoiding a lie. “I went back for it after we’d all left, and I found it there.”

David had been for dinner at Mary Margaret’s house – there was nothing to suggest anything otherwise had happened.

Regina stalked forward and reached down for the dagger, whipping it off the ground with speed; to her surprise, Emma felt herself almost lunging forward to stop her before she stayed the movement. The callous handling of the dagger was suddenly so distressing to her. She forced herself to stay put, and let Regina carry on her examination. She traced the tip of a perfectly manicured finger over the grooves where Liam’s name had been carved into it.

“Alright, say it’s true,” she declared imperiously, eyes snapping onto Emma. David made to protest and Regina silenced him by raising a hand. “Say all of it is true. That there’s something going on with that house, and that it has something to do with how Liam died. If so, then why on earth are we messing around with the same stuff? If it’s all connected, surely following directly in his footsteps is a way to get us all dead at the bottom of that ravine.”

She flinched at the harshness of her words, but could understand the sentiment. Emma had been turning the same thought over in her mind the entire day – these were clearly forces beyond their understanding, maybe even beyond their control. So she decided to reveal one final detail.

“The truth is…” Emma began reluctantly. God, she hoped Killian would forgive her for saying this. “They never found a body. Liam’s body, I mean. There was enough evidence to suggest he had definitely been in the car, enough to rule out any reasonable doubt. And the river down there is aggressive, so the consensus was that it was probably swept out to sea. But they never actually found anything.”

Killian had told her this once, quietly. Had whispered it into the air when they were thirteen, as if he had just wanted to see how it would sound to admit out loud that, sometimes, he imagined it meant Liam was still alive.

Regina’s eyes dropped warily to the dagger in her hands. Liam Jones, it still said. As if worried she might meet a similar fate, she carefully laid it back on the ground and stepped away.

“What if this means that not only was Liam not crazy, but it could mean… well, I don’t have to spell it out.”

She didn’t want to say it, because to give it a voice would make it sound ludicrous and outrageous and would probably make them all give up on the idea, herself included. The others felt the same, she could sense it, but they were also all thinking the same thing.

What if it meant that something else had happened to Liam Jones? That maybe, and there was the slimmest chance for it, but it was there all the same – that Killian’s most fervent, irrational hope might be true. That he was still alive.

“Then we have to try.”

Emma was surprised to see it was Mary Margaret who had spoken, but felt immensely relieved to hear it. She had been sure the other girl would be the hardest to persuade.

David almost looked alarmed. “You believe all this?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” she said, and Emma could see doubt still marred her expression. “But I know what I hope, for Killian. If there’s any chance… we owe it to him to do this.”

Emma agreed wholeheartedly. “Exactly.”

Trying to summon some kind of evil spirit, or demon, or whatever she had felt inside that house may not be exactly what they wanted to do, but whether it succeeded or not, whether it was real or not, helping Killian was more important than any of that. Best case scenario, they discovered something important, something that changed theirs and Killian’s lives forever. Worst case scenario, it might stop Killian wondering. It might bring him some form of closure.

Emma picked up the dagger, and the metal felt warm to the touch. Welcoming. As if it were telling her to believe this would work, in the best way that they all wanted. It strengthened her resolve.

David and Regina exchanged looks, but they also agreed.

Which was what brought them later to the end of the gravel driveway of the group home, after Emma had asked Archie if Killian was around to come outside and join them. It still felt somewhat odd, even after a year had passed, to be knocking on the front door to the group home and behaving like a guest. In a lot of ways it still was her home, Archie’s kindly smile still her welcome, the redbrick walls the backdrop to her life. It was here she had experienced most of the formative moments of her life.

Although she cared very deeply for both David and Ruth, and was grateful for everything they had done for her, the quietly realised truth in her heart was that they had come a little too late.

Killian looked bewildered as they all recounted what they had decided eagerly, talking over each other in their enthusiasm to let him know they were here, they wanted to help, they’d do whatever he needed them to. He took the dagger from Emma as if in a daze, tracing the letters of his brother’s name faintly, but tenderly.

“You’d do this?” he said finally, still uncertain. “For me?”

“Of course,” Regina replied smoothly, as if just an hour earlier she hadn’t been voicing her own, significant doubts. “We’re your friends.”

“We’re in this together,” David agreed. “But you definitely have Emma to thank.”

Emma felt her face flush when he turned his gaze on her, and memories of their time spent at Granny’s on her birthday swam to the surface. He was looking at her like she’d hung the stars.

That wasn’t it at all – she’d just found the dagger, nothing more. Killian had done all the legwork. She was just stitching the fragments together.

His lips parted, and she had a sudden urge to stop him as she felt he might say something horrendously heartfelt and embarrassing in front of the others, so she spoke over him quickly.

“You can thank me later,” she said briskly, flashing him a smile. “But we’ve got to catch ourselves a demon first.”

They agreed on the following night, Thursday, as they didn’t have school on Friday thanks to a local holiday. After they parted ways, Killian keeping a tight hold of the dagger, Emma felt a certain buoy in her step but she couldn’t really work out why – it was that powerful sense of doing, of really getting ready to achieve something for a friend that had her so motivated.

David teased her about it, but she let him. Her mind was already on tomorrow evening, and the secrets they might uncover in the walls of Brooke House.

-/-

Present Day

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

Killian jerked himself back to the present.

When David had asked to meet him he couldn’t help the surge of relief within him; it hadn’t done much for his already troubled mind to remain at odds with the other man, especially not when he was one of the few people in Storybrooke who didn’t actively shoot poison at him through their eyes whenever they passed him on the street. He knew his continued association with Regina couldn’t have gone unnoticed, nor their frequent trips out into the forest while they visited Brooke House. They had spent a few days with their full, combined efforts on the house, but had turned up nothing.

Unless he was alone, Emma refused to make her presence known. With every passing day, Regina’s scepticism that there was anything to be found in Brooke House continued to grow, and he knew he was running out of time.

He had promised the dark, moonlit vision of Emma that he would help her escape Brooke House; she had begun instructing him immediately. She suggested herbs to burn and in which order, phrases to be spoken aloud and the intention with which they should be uttered, and Killian had begun slipping some of these practices into he and Regina’s attempts, passing them off as something he had learnt while he was away. What the spectre of the house did not realise was that he fully intended to release Emma – his Emma, and her alone. He was sure she was in there, she just had to be. The only thing left to figure out was how to get her out, and weakening some of the enchantments around the house had to play a part in that. So for now, their goals somewhat aligned.

David had asked to meet by the lake in Memorial Park, and Killian had arrived a good ten minutes early. It was only because his plan for the morning had been for naught – on a whim, and because it was nearby, he had decided to visit the group home. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Mostly, he felt like the person he wanted to speak to most was Archie Hopper, and although he had been hoping he might run into him around town by an act of providence, it was yet to occur.

Archie’s counsel hadn’t always been something welcome to Killian. He had been a stable enough figure in his teenage years, when stability had been the thing he lacked most in the world, but after Emma’s disappearance Killian had forced a gulf between them as wide as he could muster. He hadn’t wanted to look at Archie’s kind, sad face any longer, and he had vehemently rejected any attempts of comfort, or wisdom, when all he had wanted was to be angry that the world was not done taking people from him.

They had spent much of the year on bad terms, but had departed on worse. Their final argument after Killian announced his plans to leave town the evening following graduation had been full of vitriol and spite – all stemming from himself. Archie had wanted him to stay, to grow, to move past his personal tragedies and face those who condemned him. Killian had wanted to disappear. With reluctance, the older man had let him go – but the worst of it was that this had only made more concrete his younger self’s belief that nobody would fight for him anymore, not even Archie.

With age he could see the affection Archie had borne for him for what it was – genuine, and without conditions. He had been able to feel his heart pounding as he raised a knuckle to the old wooden door of the group home, anxious at the idea of meeting him again, of giving the apology he knew to be long overdue.

He needn’t have fretted. The social worker at the door informed him, rather tersely, that Archie had moved on some years ago and no longer worked there. Perhaps his disappointment had shown rather more clearly than he intended, as the young woman took pity on him and told him that the last she had heard he had moved to Portland, but even that information might now be outdated. She offered to see if a forwarding address had been left for him, but Killian assured her it was fine, and thanked her for her trouble.

His heart felt like a lead weight. There was so much he had wanted to say, and he was sure he might never get the chance to now. To clear his head he had taken a few turns around the park, but like everywhere else in Storybrooke it was drenched in memories of Emma, sweet and sad, of water fights on the grass or climbing trees as tall as their younger bodies could manage.

Before long, he found himself at the edge of the lake, awaiting David’s arrival. The afternoon was brisk, and he was regretting his decision not to wear gloves as his fingers felt brittle and slow, now curled up in the pockets of his jacket. The sky had turned a bruised grey, and the surrounding forest left the surface of the water the murky colour of moss, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of wildlife or the breeze brushing across it.

“Hey.”

Killian turned and found David striding towards him, a look of trepidation clear on his face. David had always worn all of his emotions on his sleeve. They exchanged a few awkward pleasantries, but it didn’t take long for David to jump to the heart of the matter.

“I’m sorry I blew up at you,” he said quickly. “It was unfair.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Killian assured him. “You were right – I haven’t been here. I should have been more sensitive to how much things had changed.”

For a moment he thought about the first few months of their senior year, before it all happened. The five of them had been thick as thieves. Killian and Regina had always been friendly due to a shared acerbic sense of humour, but it wasn’t until Emma had brought David and Mary Margaret into their lives that he had really, truly begun to think of anyone else other than Emma as a close friend.

Killian could almost see them now, clustered in a circle at the end of the driveway of the group home, telling him in no uncertain terms that they’d like to give summoning a demon a go, just because friendship didn’t need any other excuses.

“I know you don’t care for Regina much anymore, but she’s been really helpful.” He let out a long breath. “Still has the emotional capacity of a lawnmower, but in her own way I think she’s been looking for Emma all this time.”

Looking for magic, looking for purpose, perhaps. To Killian it was all the same thing.

“We tried to be there for her, after her dad died,” David shrugged, but he clearly carried some remorse over it. “She didn’t want to know.”

That didn’t surprise him. She had only been nineteen, and she had become distant enough after Emma disappeared, even to him. With a twinge of regret he considered that perhaps his sudden up and leaving after graduation didn’t do much for her ability to rely on others, not that she would ever admit it. Just one more thing he’d done wrong that year.

They started walking, catching up properly in a way they hadn’t had a chance to since Killian came back to town. David talked about his job at the animal shelter, where old schoolmates had ended up, how Ruth was faring. Killian coasted over the harsher details, but tried to give David a similar recount of what he had been doing with himself over the past five years. It mostly consisted of travel stories, of the odder jobs he had picked up on the road in order to keep himself afloat. He didn’t want to talk about living hand to mouth, of the multitude of nights he had spent freezing and sleeping fitfully in his car, or the reasons he had chosen certain places to visit, and their penchant towards the supernatural. It was easier to pick the funnier things to talk about, and he sensed David knew he wasn’t telling the whole story, but probably preferred it that way.

After a little while, when they had almost exhausted every other curiosity, Killian finally decided to bring it up.

“Do you want to come?” he asked, gently. “To Brooke House?”

David’s steps faltered, and Killian could see his eyebrows had knitted together in concern.

He swallowed. “Is – is she –?”

“She’s there,” Killian admitted, even if he hadn’t done the same for Regina. David had seen her, after all. A troubled mix of joy and trepidation overcame David’s expression, a smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, and although Killian hated to pull the rug from under him, he didn’t think it would be fair to give him false hope. “She’s… not herself. But I think you know that.”

David deflated instantly.

“So it’s – it’s what I thought, then. It’s not really her. Emma. It’s just… that house.”

Killian had found himself wondering the same thing. “I’m not sure. I’m investigating, Regina is helping me.” He hesitated, but decided to offer again. “Do you want to come?”

Emma had been special to David in ways far different to Killian. Killian may have shared a roof with Emma for many more years than David had, but he was under no illusion as to what his true feelings for Emma had been – David’s had been much more fraternal. The idea of not being able to protect her had hit him particularly hard, even if Emma had only ever indulged his strong sense of brotherly vigilance with an arched eyebrow.

It would be difficult for him to see her as she was now; fragile, unhinged. Twisted. It was why Killian had initially wanted him as far from it all as possible.

To his surprise, David actually agreed with him.

“No, I – I don’t, really,” he said, wincing as if he were afraid Killian might be cross. How could he be, when he understood better than anyone? “I want to remember her the way she was. I don’t want this to…”

He trailed off. Killian tried to look as understanding as possible, to assure him it was all perfectly fine. From the miserable look David was giving him, he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“I should never have called you,” he muttered with dismay, “and put you through all this again. I brought you right back into it.”

Killian smiled ruefully. “The truth is, David, I never really left it.”

For a long while they were silent, only the rustling of trees surrounding them, and Killian felt that even the chirping of birds sounded morose and downcast.

It was difficult to find reasons to stay cheerful.

“Let me take you somewhere,” David said finally. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

Seeing no reason not to, he allowed David to take the lead. He led them farther into Memorial Park, and Killian realised with reluctance that he was taking them in the direction of the old chapel behind the Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa. He wasn’t too thrilled about it, not just because of the unhappy association with Belle Gold that the convent reminded him of, but also because he had a strong inkling of why he was being brought here, and he didn’t much care for it.

Following David past the chapel, his sense of foreboding only grew as they began to walk cautiously among the headstones of the graveyard, many weathered with age and moss as if they had sprouted from the ground themselves. After they had passed a tall statue of a woman cradling her face in her hands, David slowed to a stop and turned.

Killian froze. From where he stood, he could see only the back of the headstone. The stone was light, an unremarkable, opalescent grey, unmarked by time. It was impossible to see whose name had been engraved across it without closing the distance between he and David and turning around, but it was also impossible to imagine it being for anyone else.

Killian stood, stranded between it being her and not being her, and felt a weary agitation begin to rise in his gut.

“I – can’t.”

David seemed to understand, for he didn’t beckon him any closer.

It was odd, Killian felt, that David could not bear to see Emma alive, but at Brooke House – and yet Killian could not bear to think of her dead, at peace, in the earth.

“We had a service, just a little while after graduation,” he said, quietly, crouching down in front of the stone. “When they officially closed the investigation. I didn’t want to, it felt like… but I agreed for Mom, you know?”

Ruth had taken Emma’s disappearance almost as hard as Killian had. Certainly as hard as Archie had, and Killian had done nothing but punish him for it.

“I wanted to invite you. I would have invited you.” The hurt in his tone was unmistakable. “I had no idea where you were or how to contact you.”

A full year had passed by the time Killian tried to touch base with his friends from Storybrooke – he had bought a phone, and texted David the number. By then he had missed the death of Regina’s father, and whatever event had finally made the gulf between her, Mary Margaret and David unbridgeable. Truly, he was relieved. Killian didn’t have the heart to tell him just how vehemently an invitation to a funeral service for Emma would have been rejected.

He said nothing.

“It might help,” David suggested. “To see it.” He reached out the tip of his fingers to gently trace the words, gaze flickering up to where Killian stood a few feet away. Killian shook his head tightly. “Maybe it would be better if we all just let go.”

Killian struggled with his reply, forcing down the wave of indignation that came with the suggestion. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say, Dave. But I can’t. If roles were reversed, Emma would never have let go of me.”

She didn’t, in fact, when Killian had been nothing more than a ghost himself. Twelve-years-old and she had clung on tight.

David acquiesced, but he did not look like he agreed.

They waited for a little while, breathing between the whistle of birdsong, remembering. Then David stood, and wordlessly they began the slow walk back into the park. Killian left the headstone unread.

In his fractured heart, there was nothing else but her. There was no other choice.

-/-

October 29th – 10 Years Ago

Killian’s new room was cold.

The group home was much airier than the little flat he had shared with Liam, which had been only a small bedroom attached to a sitting room. They had just one window, and in the summer it had been unbearably hot; he had spent many an hour sat miserably in front of the cheap fan Liam had picked up from a convenience store, begging for fall. When they moved in Liam had insisted Killian take the only bedroom while he slept in the sitting room, which Killian did not envy in the balmier evenings.

By contrast, the group home was all flat edges and cold surfaces. The corridors were so wide you could fit three people standing abreast, and footfalls against the landing echoed noisily against the walls of the building. This room he also had to himself, but it felt too big. Another empty bed rested against the opposite wall, a reminder that at some point, this space would be shared – it wasn’t really his. Not the way his room in Liam’s flat had been. He didn’t want to unpack his suitcase. It would be like admitting that all his worldly possessions belonged here now, where someone else could pick them up and touch them whenever they liked.

He missed Liam.

He missed Liam so much, he could feel hot, angry tears begin to well in his eyes every time he thought about it.

Curling his knees up to his chest, Killian took a steady breath and tried not to cry. They wanted him to go back to school on Monday, and he didn’t think he could make it through seventh grade if everyone thought he was the kind of kid that cried.

There was a sharp, abrupt knock at the door. The impatient rapping of knuckles against old wood. Killian hurriedly wiped his eyes, but the visitor didn’t wait for him to invite them in. He supposed he might have to get used to that.

In tumbled a girl with blonde hair and bright green eyes, who he knew took one look at his red-rimmed eyes and decided immediately to pretend she didn’t realise he was crying, by marching over to his window and looking out. Even this act of compassion made him burn with humiliation, piss off, he wanted to scream, he didn’t need their pitying looks. He didn’t want their kindness.

He just wanted Liam back.

The girl whirled around, and to his consternation she was smiling like she was in on the joke.

“Another banner year, right?”

Killian blinked. “What?”

“We’ve all got ghosts here.”

At the mention of ghosts Killian bristled, his mind flashing back to the headline on the newspaper in Archie’s office. The man had tried to hide it once he realised Killian was staring, but he had seen it. The social workers had told him Liam wasn’t well, and that was why he had done it. Killian knew he had been perfectly well, and that the rest of the town thought he was completely mad and believed in ghosts and thought that was why he had decided to do it. Killian didn’t know either way. He just wished he hadn’t done it.

Killian directed the cold fury that headline had ignited in him at the intruder. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” she said shortly, and she looked offended at the idea. She looked familiar to Killian, and he had a feeling she was in his grade at school – he thought he might’ve seen Regina speaking to her a few times. Regina was the only sort-of friend he had made so far in Storybrooke. Sort-of, because he felt like they weren’t really friends, so much as aware of the fact that no one else really wanted to be their friend, so they may as well stick together.

Killian didn’t care about Regina right now. He just wanted this girl to bugger off, and for him to get Liam back.

“I’m just saying, we’ve all got tragic backstories in here. No one will be all that bothered by yours by Tuesday.”

This was not all that reassuring. The idea of Liam fading into memory made him feel even more wretched.

“What’s yours then?” he said, rather nastily. Mostly because he wanted her to go.

His tone didn’t phase her in the slightest. Instead she dropped on the opposite bed and ticked them off on her fingers one-by-one, as if they were a grocery list.

“Parents abandoned me by the side of the freeway when I was a baby, got carried to the nearest diner but the boy who brought me in vanished three months later, got adopted by a family until I was three but then they had kids of their own so they took me back.” She grinned wryly. “Thank God they still had the receipt, right?”

Killian eyed her warily; she spoke with the sort of nonchalance that suggested she would allow him to make fun of her the same way she was making fun of herself, but it was also completely transparent. It was obvious these experiences were painful for her, even to talk about as a joke. And from the sounds of it she’d been living in a group home all of her life. Her whole life in big, cold rooms like this. The thought of it made Killian balk.

Despite himself, he felt a twinge of sympathy for her. For both her determined eyes and her bravado, too. He knew what that was like.

“What are you doing?”

“Talking,” the girl replied, giving him an odd look. “With you, I thought.”

“Why?” he demanded.

She shrugged. Killian didn’t remember if he’d seen her with any friends at school, all he could really remember were those few nebulous occasions she had spoken to Regina around him. He didn’t know her name, which definitely meant she wasn’t friends with the bigger, more boisterous groups in his class. That was okay, though. He didn’t particularly care for them either.

There was only one thing Liam had wanted out of him at school. It didn’t matter what grades he got, or whether he was good at sports or got involved in clubs. All Liam had ever made him commit to was being kind.

And the last thing he had said to Liam had venom enough to last for the rest of his life.

I’m not finished, his brother had barked, don’t you walk away from me.

If he had known it would be the last time – which, Killian had learnt, was what made last times so devastating, you never really knew when they would be – he might not have slammed his bedroom door and refused to come out.

But who could say, now?

Thinking about Liam had the same affect it had for the last few weeks – it was like a punch to the gut. He could feel the frustration that had started building since they put him in that room begin to ebb away, feeling much calmer in a matter of moments.

Kindness, that was all Liam had asked for. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The change in tack cheered her up immensely and she grinned. “Emma.”

Emma, right. Yeah, he remembered now. Emma sat right at the back of class, near Leroy. Definitely one of the least desirable seats in the room.

“I’m Killian.”

Something easier settled between them, but it didn’t completely assuage the awkwardness. Killian felt tired. He stared at his suitcase, still zipped tightly shut, and he still wasn’t really ready to make it otherwise. He could sense Emma following his gaze.

“So,” she said brightly, to draw his attention away. “Do you wanna know where Archie hides the good snacks?”

After a moment’s hesitation Killian relented, and when she bounded over to the door he followed suit.

Somehow, the prospect of going back to school on Monday seemed just a little less daunting. Maybe, he thought privately, he could ask if Emma wanted to sit by him instead.

That would be nice.

-/-

Present Day

“That’s it,” Regina declared glumly. “That’s the last spell I have in here. We have officially tried everything that might be relevant.”

The air was scented distinctly by a combination of cedar and sweetgrass, thick enough that Killian could feel it catching in the back of his throat. He flapped a hand in front of his face, suppressing a cough, and reached for the bottle of water he had brought with him. The haze had started to rise into the high ceiling, and Killian could spot it escaping through a gap in the brickwork where a roof slate had come loose near the top corner of the room. In his opinion, Regina had somewhat overdone it on the herbs; she had a tendency to rely on the more physical ingredients required, and actually ignored the fact that she did appear to have a natural instinct for the craft.

It was normal, he supposed, for somebody trying to dip their feet into something as intangible as the mystique, to try and ground themselves in more physical expressions of it – but she didn’t need to. Not that she would welcome his advice.

Besides, he was somewhat put out by her announcement. “Everything?”

“Short of getting down on my knees and begging, yes, everything.”

Killian snorted. “Now that would be real magic.”

It had been a week already, and nothing had changed. Whenever Regina was inside it, Brooke House remained vacant, a gaping wound they kept determinedly placing themselves inside, suggesting nothing at all beyond brick and rotted wood and revealing even less. To every suggestion or provocation they made, the answer was only silence, and Killian could already see Regina losing hope. Either in her own abilities or in the idea that there was anything to find, he couldn’t be sure, but neither boded well for continuing their efforts.

Privately, Emma goaded him into bringing the dagger to the house. Every night she coaxed and cajoled, only to rage and curse once she realised he had not brought it – he daren’t, not yet. Unknowingly, Regina had helped him loosen the chokehold the spirit claimed the house held on it, and the final step was bringing her the dagger.

The way Killian saw it, the looser the hold, the nearer to the surface Emma must be.

But nothing they tried looked like it had made any impact. Every night, Emma was the same. Beguiling and capricious, aggressive and cold. And he was running out of time.

“There has to be something else,” he insisted, stepping across the room to where Regina had left her book of shadows and began flipping through the pages.

Irked, Regina stepped over to join him. “You’re right, why would I know all the options in my own book?” she scowled, peering over his shoulder at whichever page happened to be open. “Why don’t we try that fertility spell and see what happens? I’ll get the pinecones, shall I?”

“Very funny.”

“I mean it, Killian. That’s it. There’s nothing else in here worth trying.” When Killian still looked chagrined, Regina’s expression softened. She laid a hand on his arm. “Do you really think I’d hold anything back if it were for Emma?”

Resigning, Killian shook his head. He let out a long breath. “I just don’t like dead ends.”

“Neither do I. But have you considered we are not the problem?”

The air felt too thick. The herbs had mixed with the musty smell of the old furniture and left a stench in the air like something unpleasant had congealed, or gone rotten. Deciding he needed to get something a little fresher in his lungs, and feeling oddly like he didn’t want this conversation to be observed by the walls of the house, Killian gestured for her to follow him out of the front door.

The afternoon was beginning to shift from a light coolness to something much colder, the forest a palette of dappled light through a deep, copper canvas. From the outside, Brooke House looked like it always did. Silent. Daring. Even without their history together, it begged to be explored.

“I’ve always wondered,” he said lowly, watching the house with a critical eye, “why Liam got involved in all of this in the first place.”

Without Liam, they would never have started down this path. The house, Belle Gold, the rotted pieces of orange string tied around the peeling skin of old birch trees. Killian reached for one nearby, picking absently at the knot, hardened through time and years of ill treatment by the elements.

“He was restoring the house,” Regina offered cautiously. “That’s what everyone says.”

He had certainly begun that way – you could tell that much just by looking at the work he had started on the far wall of the sitting room.

“But then why the rest of it? Why did he go to see Belle?”

“Maybe he found the same picture you did – he could’ve just wanted to know more about the house.”

The same questions and the same answers he had cycled through hundreds, thousands of times before, once again began the lap around his consciousness. Brooke House had taken so much already and he still understood so little about it. There was the dagger, for one. Emma’s name was on the dagger now, and that twisted, dark vision of her in the house was what remained, with his Emma buried deep inside.

Liam’s name had been on the dagger once, back before Emma had disappeared. Could that mean –?

No. Liam had been in the car. He’d been over this a hundred times; they said the evidence was incontrovertible. He’d been in the car that crashed into the river even if they never found his body.

Even if once, quietly, he had admitted to Emma that sometimes he imagined that meant he was still alive – somehow.

And say they were all wrong; if Liam wasn’t in the car and had ever been like Emma was now, why didn’t he appear before?

But Liam’s name had been on that dagger. And he was only just scratching the surface on what that might mean.

Killian scrubbed a hand over his chin thoughtfully.

“Gold – Belle’s husband – she said he went to Brooke House because he knew there was a power inside it, and he wanted it. To… possess it, I suppose. And that’s ultimately why he disappeared.” There was power inside it, certainly. And Killian didn’t doubt its ability to lure someone out of their homes, their lives, and seduce them with the promise of something more. “But Liam wasn’t like that.”

But Liam, but Liam, but Liam.

Killian had never been able to reconcile the two motives in his mind. Gold wanted to control the spirit, but what had Liam wanted? He had done all the work for them with regard to summoning the demon; he had doodled the key elements to the ritual on an old piece of paper and had stuffed it in his toolbox. Killian could see the scribbled note as clearly as if it were still in his hand. Salt circle. Curvy dagger. Five points. Where had he gotten all this from? And what did he want from it?

And after all of that, the same question hammered against his skull with ever pressing urgency. It had been ten years since Liam Jones had driven his car over the edge of the ravine, but Killian could still barely restrain himself from hurling his head back and screaming until the heavens gave him an answer.

Why?

Why did he do it?

The gaunt face of Emma Swan from that first night swam before him, promising to give him every answer he had ever asked for, in exchange for her freedom. Maybe the only thing left was to give it to her, and damn the consequences. It might, for one sparing second, finally quiet all the tumult that had lived within him for far too long. Put the ghosts to rest.

Get Emma back.

“The darkness is seductive,” Regina said, but Killian had already forgotten what he had said before it. “Even for the kindest of souls.”

So good of you to come and see me.

“Come on,” he said, after a long moment, “let’s just go get our stuff.”

It was with great reluctance that they gathered their things back in the sitting room. Killian packed away each piece of his equipment with greater care than necessary, slowing down the process enormously. Regina seemed to mirror his sentiment as she started to needlessly take inventory of every herb or crystal she had brought with her, and which of them she was expecting to take back. She even decided to pack away the old scarlet scarf that had been there since the house had returned, and lifted the Ouija board from the ground. Killian knew why.

She was not planning to come back.

It felt right, somehow, to remove all evidence of their ever having been there, even as Killian’s heart began to feel heavy at the prospect. He already knew he would be returning tonight, and he would bring the dagger, finally. Only sights unseen could decide what happened now.

“Killian.”

It was quiet, but sharp. For a moment Killian didn’t register that Regina had spoken, until he looked over his shoulder and saw her staring, frozen, at the darkest wall, the one opposite the front window. The one Liam had abandoned his work on all that time ago, where he had pulled part of the wallpaper away and begun scrubbing at the dirt underneath.

It was not the curling, rotted sheet of wallpaper that Regina was looking at now, but the bared wood panelling that had rested underneath it. Killian knew this because there was something there now that had not been there before.

Written in bold, spiky letters on the wall in some kind of permanent marker, was the word COME.

Killian’s heart began to pound. As he rose hesitantly to his feet, he could feel more than hear the floorboards groan with protest underneath him.

“Don’t,” Regina got out, when he started towards the wall. “We – don’t know where that came from.”

Killian thought he had an idea.

As he approached, he could hear his own blood rushing in his ears, thumping, beating, alive, he had never felt so alive, so sure, so ready for whatever came next. COME, it beckoned, he came, and lifted a trembling finger to the wall to touch the letters. The end of the black pen lines faded into a patchy grey, as if they had been scribbled in a hurry. Killian traced the edge of the E, and realised the end of it extended beneath the wallpaper.

Digging his fingertips underneath it, Killian grimaced as the paper was moist to the touch, and then ripped at it as harshly as he could. A strip of it came clean away, and his eyes widened once he saw what was underneath it.

Another word. LISTEN.

In a frenzy he dug again, harder this time, but pried with a little less force, hoping to bring more of the paper away in one go. The entire sheet pulled away, tearing in his fingers and baring the entire panel down to the ground.

Regina audibly sucked in a breath.

COME, it had said, LISTEN.

But that had only been half of the message.

In a daze, Killian suddenly remembered a detail of the night Emma had stolen his kiss that had slipped from his mind, something hastily stuffed into a bookcase upstairs and promptly forgotten about.

COME LISTEN TO YOUR RECORDER.

-/-

October 26th – 5 Years Ago

They were far quieter this time around.

Their plans had to be put off until long after dark had fallen, for convenience’s sake and in order to avoid arousing suspicions from unaware parents – and because they all knew (but would not own up to) they probably had a greater chance of success by attempting the ritual at night. The moon was bright and full, and Brooke House was lit only by the constant flicker of torchlight and the clear, silver shadow it cast through the sitting room window.

Killian had cradled the dagger close to him while Emma had shouldered a bag full of his black marker, the candles and the salt he had stolen from under Archie’s nose again. Regina had brought her Ouija board, for no other reason than because it felt appropriate, and David had brought an Apollo chocolate bar.

“What?” he had said defensively, his mouth barely forming around the word as the wrapper crinkled in his grasp. “I’m hungry.” He had brought one for Mary Margaret too.

Emma had quickly decided that they all looked ridiculous. They were each dressed in as many layers as possible while still retaining motor function in order to combat the chill night air, highlights including Mary Margaret’s wide eyes being the only visible portion of her face as she had practically wrapped her entire upper body in a bright red scarf, while Emma struggled to keep her beanie from catching on errant low-hanging tree branches as they made their way there. She had always assumed looking cool was something that came naturally when you were as burdened with solemn purpose as they were, but all that really meant was nobody said much and everyone was nervous.

It was perplexing how much spookier Brooke House looked at night.

Where before Emma had seen vivid green ivy climbing the walls from its foundations, now she saw black, curling fingers creeping upwards with unfaltering progress. The cracked windows and shattered roof slates now looked threatening instead of symbol of fatigue, as if something from inside the house and pushed and screamed until the glass exploded and the roof flew open. She thought about the attic, about the thumping of the wardrobe door that had led her to the dagger, now clutched carefully in Killian’s grip like a prayer. Maybe they had already let the danger out. Or maybe there was more to find.

Without much preamble Killian had leapt up the steps to the front door, but the rest of them followed more slowly behind. Emma felt she could understand the source of their reluctance, as even her heart hammered with trepidation while her fingers trembled with excitement.

Magic was real and the world was different now.

Emma had thought that while she and Killian set up the pentagram and the salt circle, that the other three might play again with the Ouija board as they had the first time they had been there. They did not, instead sitting in almost silence while David munched on chocolate and Mary Margaret and Regina stared anywhere but at she and Killian making preparations. The board sat on the ground, untouched, the planchette a few feet away. Mary Margaret took off her scarf.

She had just finished setting up the last candle when Killian called them over, softly, and wordlessly they took their places at each point of the pentagram. The air felt damp like the forest outside, and tingled with something unsaid between them. Emma felt charged and ready to snap.

Killian cleared his throat. “Listen, whatever happens, whatever we find… I’m so grateful, to all of you.”

“We’re with you,” David said, and they all murmured their agreement. Emma took his hand.

Killian squeezed it once, tightly, and in the tremor of his fingers she could feel how nervous he was. Then he released her and reached for the matches, making his way around the circle and lighting each of the five candles, and they all switched off their torches as they did so. Soon, the only light came from the moon, and the flicker of candlelight in front of him.

Then, finally, he placed the dagger in its centre.

Emma heard something hiss, like the sudden suction of air after opening a can of soda. It was so brief that she almost thought she hadn’t heard it, but she knew she must have. Nobody else seemed to, though, so she pressed her lips together and chose not to mention it. The blade glittered in the warm orange glow of candlelight. Killian took his place by her, folding his legs beneath him. The candle left half of his face bathed in shadow, but Emma thought she could see his mouth moving, his eyes flickering closed for a moment. For a moment she imagined he might be praying, and resisted the urge to dismiss that notion as soon as it came to her. He hadn’t believed in any sort of deity for as long as she had known him, but nobody laughed at God when they were staring at the evidence that the world was already stranger than they had dreamt it.

Like before, they reached for the hands of those either side of them, completing the circle they had made on the first night. Except this time it wasn’t about them; it wasn’t about David and Mary Margaret, shyly but enthusiastically clutching at each other, it wasn’t about Regina’s desire to be heard or the impossible sounds that had come to Emma from the wardrobe upstairs. They knew what it was about, and they knew who. It seemed only natural that Killian would speak.

“Show yourself,” he said.

He announced this with confidence, as if he had already decided who it was they were speaking to. As if he knew them already. As if he had just been waiting for them to know him.

It began in much the same way it had before, except this time Emma knew what to expect.

She shut her eyes tightly, and felt the noises from outside the circle begin to dissipate; the rustle of the trees, the old creeks and groans they had come to expect from the ancient framework of Brooke House. The air had gone still, as if it, too, was holding its breath and waiting, and although she knew the others weren’t far from her, she could no longer sense their being close in the same way – it were as if they had all been thrust underwater, and the only true sensation was Killian’s hand in her right, and David’s hand in her left.

The temperature had begun to drop, as if by welcoming some spectral presence it had to absorb everything that made the room conducive to life, but a different kind of warmth had begun to vibrate from somewhere near her collarbone. It tugged at her, touched her, wanted her to lean forward.

Yes, it purred, come.

A low buzzing began to circle around them, and with it Emma began to feel the air moving again, picking up into a mild gust brushing past them and Mary Margaret let out a squeak of alarm.

“Don’t let go,” someone said. She thought it might have been Regina.

The breeze began to grow into a flurry, and Emma felt her beanie being whipped off her head and carried into some other dark part of the room. Orange light swam behind her eyelids as the flames from the candles darted about violently, but they did not go out as she would have expected them to. On they burned, and the buzz rose into a roar until it drowned out every other sound, and the buzz was now a whisper except it had always been a whisper, and she had no idea how she could have ever thought of it as otherwise. A thousand voices whirled about them in chorus, speaking too quickly or too loudly for Emily to distinguish any of the words, but when she heard the others gasp in fright her eyes flew open, and she couldn’t stop the noise of alarm she made once she saw what the others had been looking at.

The dagger was now floating above them, suspended in mid-air.

Even though she knew she was seeing it, and she knew exactly what she was seeing, Emma found it difficult to reconcile it with everything she knew to be real and true.

The world was different now.

“Why – why is it doing that?” David had to yell to be heard over the roar around them.

“Don’t break the circle!” Killian hollered back.

The air began to crackle, and Emma was again caught by the sensation that a storm was about to break out, and half expected to feel the patter or rain on the back of her neck. The wind was whipping her coat and her hair in all directions, but she tried to keep her focus on the dagger – which was the moment she realised it was vibrating, moving in such infinitesimal increments and with such speed that it was impossible to focus on its outline, and it had become a muddled blur of bruised grey and black.

Killian’s hand tightened on hers.

And that was when lightning struck.

Mary Margaret screamed. David let go of Emma’s hand to shield his face from the sudden blast, but it was unlike any kind of lightning Emma had ever seen before. It was aggressively black, and once it struck the dagger it stayed attached, like a sharp, pulsing vein, whirling violently in the squall. Then another struck. And again. And again. With more clashes so loud that her ears began to burn with heat, with pain, darkness latched itself onto the dagger hovering above them. She felt Killian’s touch like an anchor, keeping her tethered to the ground, and David’s loss was like a gaping hole in her side, a vacuum where something strong and indomitable should have been.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She thought her face might already be wet, where tears had rolled down and struck her dumb and more than anything she wanted Killian to look at her, but his awestruck expression remained focus on the obsidian zephyr that had engulfed the dagger, swirling dangerously like a storm they were only just out of reach of.

It was too late, now, to put it back in the box.

They should never have done this.

Emma knew it like she knew the shape of her own heart, like she knew the jagged edges of Killian’s soul, like the sharp blade of her fishing knife, like David’s warm, warm embrace.

In Brooke House they had touched something evil, and flung its cage wide open.

Emma gasped, which was how she knew she was struggling for air.

She heard someone call her name, but she had no way of knowing who it might be. She couldn’t see through the vortex to Mary Margaret and Regina, David was cowering away and Killian, and Killian, and Killian.

Killian watched, his mouth open in a silent cry.

Liam, he said – his heart shouted it – Liam, Liam, Liam.

Emma tore her gaze back into darkness.

Which was when she realised someone was inside it.

The realisation struck her with the force of an icy wave. Struggling inside the hurricane there was a man, his arms held up to shield his face, his scream noiseless amongst the thousands of other voices the storm had brought with it, and it was clear he was trapped. Emma couldn’t see his expression but knew immediately that he must be in pain from his posture.

She jerked forwards – and suddenly she was in herself, in fact, she felt so aware of her arms and her hands and the shape of her own eyes that she hadn’t realised she had been away from them until that very moment. It felt like the way she had stumbled in front of Brooke House the night she found the dagger. She was dazed and released and confused but she could breathe, and with a jolt she remembered the man imprisoned inside the vortex.

Her head darted from side to side, but David didn’t look like he had seen him, he was reaching for Mary Margaret – Killian couldn’t have either, or he would not be so frozen and still, she was sure, she was the only one – she was the only one –

She was the only one who could –

“There’s – there’s someone in there!”

Killian had heard her, and immediately jerked his head to look at her. His mouth formed around Liam’s name, but Emma couldn’t hear it over the roaring in her ears. Killian’s eyes darted back to the dagger, unseeing, and he looked at Emma again, helpless. He couldn’t see the man.

Emma could see him.

She was the only one who could –

Emma let go of Killian’s hand.

His cry of alarm was the only thing she heard before she stood, stumbling against the force of the wind all around her.

“EMMA!”

The man saw her. His mouth opened in a silent scream.

She had to help him.

Emma hurled herself into the storm.

She was nothing but air. She was stirring, shattering, waiting, hoping, spinning, crying out, she was screaming, oh God she was screaming, thrusting, grasping, wanting, hurting, oh it hurt, it hurt, it burned like the day she had first been born, like the day she had made herself all over again. She pushed and she pushed and her arms were aching and there was blood, there was so much blood, but she felt something solid in front of her and her fist closed around it.

The dagger.

It was white hot to touch but she couldn’t let go, her hand was locked. It was all over her arms. Her wrists erupted in angry, crimson welts and she screamed, and she could see Regina, wide-eyed and fearful. She turned, she turned, she turned. She could see Mary Margaret. She turned, she turned, she turned. There was David, standing now, shouting, she couldn’t hear what he was shouting, his legs were braced, he was readying himself for a fight.

Where was the man?

Was he okay?

Unseen hands grasped at her skull, tugged and everything was a blur of colour except everything was white, and she gasped, and it hurt, and she couldn’t release the dagger, and the voice was telling her to let go, to let go, to let go.

Come, it hissed, listen –

She was being unmade.

And then she saw Killian.

She saw Killian and her heart hurt. She wanted and she wanted and she wanted and then she wanted more, she wanted everything from him, she wanted everything for him, he was yelling but she couldn’t hear him, and she wanted nothing more than to hear his voice and beckon him inside, yes, yes, every voice was screaming yes, bring him in, bring him in, bring him in –

No.

No one else.

Not one more person.

She wrenched her focus back onto Killian, she could see him ready to pounce, to throw himself into the hurricane and follow her, always to follow her, to the end of the world or time and –

And she loved him.

The darkness would not claim one more person. Not a single person, for as long as she was alive.

And she was alive.

She opened her mouth.

“Killian – Killian, don’t –!”

Her cry made him hesitate – and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

It was enough, he was safe, and she let go.

-/-

As suddenly as the storm had struck, it was gone.

Gone was the wind, the noise, the charged black lightning, and the stench of something rotted, something old, something wanting. The dagger clattered down onto the ground.

David was the first to recover, breathing heavily, eyes wild.

“Where’s Emma? Where – where did she go?”

Over and over, Emma’s final cry rang like crystal in Killian’s ears.

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

It had all happened so fast.

He could still feel her hand slipping free from his grasp.

He’d been ready to jump in after her, if he’d been just a second quicker, if he hadn’t hesitated – why? Why did he hesitate?

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

Because he’d seen her eyes, black as charcoal, her wrists stained crimson. He didn’t think he would ever forget it; especially since it had made him falter. Since it had possibly cost them everything.

Killian tumbled forwards, reaching blindly for the dagger. He didn’t want to look at it, but he was sure he knew what he would find. The others were slowly coming back to their senses, recovering from the suddenness of something that had been very much there, suddenly not being there, and realising along with David that Emma had vanished. That Emma had let go of his hand. That Emma had screamed at him not to follow and he had obeyed.

In the second where everything had mattered most, he had been afraid, and he had obeyed.

“Bring her back.” It was David again, but Killian could scarcely even hear him. He felt like he was speaking to him through fog. “You bring her back right now, Jones, or I swear –!”

Killian never found out what he would swear to. His attention was fixed on the dagger, and he heard the breath escape the others once they realised what it was he was looking at.

The name engraved across the blade had changed. Liam Jones had gone.

He could still feel her hand slipping free from his grasp.

The dagger, glittering in the dark, now read Emma Swan.

In his bones, he already knew the devastating truth, even as his soul railed against it.

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

Emma was gone.

#jay writes #a house is never still #cs role reversal #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs au #cs halloweek #killian jones #emma swan #i hope you guys enjoy this!

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biglittlesshop · 3 years

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 98

It was weird to have slow weeks again with all the excitement Keith had brought into his life. Keith had called to update him on things in Platt which weren’t exactly good. A scuffle had broken out between three vampire clans, so Lotor, and his generals, were now calling VOLTRON home for the foreseeable future. Asking far too much over Lance for Keith’s comfort. Keith and Shiro were both back in with Blades after the failure of a mission, though Keith was two weeks out of loop, so he’d had to work extra time to catch up on everything he’d missed. Then the last two weeks August had seemed to disappear into thin air, without seeing Keith. Lance honestly didn’t know where they’d gone, only that they were wankers for leaving him without Keith for so long.

Filled in far too much, Sendak seemed to be the cause of the recent vampire fighting. The four clans suffering heavy casualties, which meant pretty much every night hunters and Blades were on the look out of for potential vampires turning humans to bolster their numbers. Plus they had to deal with werewolves getting all uppity with their mangy noses out of joint. Two murders had made their way into the news, the reports on the details varied differently with between each printed news report. Someone had brought up the question of it being related to the theft he and Keith committed, with that particular story disappearing within 6 hours of making it to socials. The Blades could make anything disappear, maybe even him if they got sick of all these vampire drama. Lance didn’t envy Keith at all. He knew his boyfriend was working hard, even harder as he tried to avoid his approaching birthday weekend... despite how freakin’ long it was until their holiday. The broody anger loaf as as bad at him over birthdays. He could have easily pushed it to the back of his mind, but instead he wanted all the information and considered hiking it ahead of time so they wouldn’t get lost.

Lance was working in his own way. Pidge found them a “case” a few towns over. Lance didn’t want to go. He felt wiped from his heat. Pidge had no pity for him after a “romantic week away”, Lance ending up going. Matt coming along for the night and succeeding in pissing off Pidge by explaining away phenomenons with science. He was kind of right. There wasn’t the feeling of death in the building despite its age, nor any annoying shadows to ignore. Hunk saved them all from Pidge’s bad mood by suggesting the turn the video into a “debunk” video for the watchers. It was nice to have part of his old life back. He felt as if things were finally settling down for the Garrison Trio, and that they’d worked past his whole “vampire” issue. A new video landed him a couple of new clients seeking advice, giving him a chance to feel helpful in a different way from tagging along because Lotor wanted it.

Vegged out on the sofa, their new family member mooed loudly from outside. Yeah. They’d kept the damn cow. Three weeks seemed too long to now be going out and finding the owner seeing she hadn’t been reported missing. They’d even named her Kaltenecker. Blue wasn’t fond of her. Her Royal Highness was sulking as it was. She and Kosmo had gotten pretty close, Lance feeling she missed the hyperactive pup as much as he missed Keith. She’d tried to be friendly with Kaltenecker, but was out the moment Kalternecker’s long slobbery tongue passed over her head. He didn’t like to admit that he slept with one of Keith’s shirts over his pillow these days, because it felt kind of stalkerish and really rather lame. He couldn’t help that he slept better with Keith’s scent close to him, despite the fact he felt a 45 year old man should probably have grown out of nightmares long ago.

Matt and Rieva both tried to help with his nightmares. Lance appreciated the thought, but his dreams had been so weird lately that he had no idea what to make of them. Sometimes they were about him being turned. Sometimes he’d turned Keith in them and they were having the weirdest adventures. He’d had one dream where he was pregnant and Keith was on a quest to find him shorts... though, the worst dream he’d had was when Nyma and Rolo had kidnapped Keith and he’d come home to find his boyfriend dead. It took calling Keith to calm him down from that one.

There was also one big change in the house that made Lance happy. Curtis had moved back in. When he’d come to check on him at the hotel, they’d talked, entertaining the idea of finding an apartment in Platt, only to decide that it was more practical if Curtis lived there. It was nice to have him back. Curtis felt as lost as he did over not being able to be in the field with Keith and Shiro. Having found a home outside VOLTRON, where his curse wasn’t such a big deal, Lance fully supported Curtis moving in and having fresh air and freedom. Plus, it helped to have someone get as emotional over soap operas as he did. Matt forced to watch the pair of them make fools of themselves as they’d yell at the TV over the script.

With Rieva at her waitressing job, Lance having cleaned through the house, and nothing much to do, Lance was curled up against Curtis, Christmas shopping for their friends group, and trying to ignore the feelings of anxiety that came with waiting for Keith to check in with him. Seeing he was giving Keith a twin set of blades for his birthday, Lance was facing he dilemma of “Did he buy Keith another blade” or “Should be he buy him camera equipment without knowing anything about cameras”. His boyfriend really did get excited at the idea of stabbing things... Maybe too excited so he shouldn’t give him a potential murder weapon?

He could always gift Keith a voucher to a camera equipment store, but he didn’t want to spend too much on the voucher and have Keith feel guilty over the cost of the gift. He could probably pick up a vintage camera as a gift...

Then again, he’d seen some amazing antique blades. As well as custom jobs that seemed to scream Keith’s name at him. It was hard containing himself. Huge gifts would be nice, he’d spoil Keith rotten for every single bad birthday memory he had, yet a heartfelt gift was worth more than spending thousands. That’s why he loved that he had a small selection of Keith’s photos. His photography so super personal that the vampire felt kind of honoured. He adored it. He adored the photos of them all, the photos of the caves, but his favourite was of Keith and Kosmo cuddled up together, even more so of the ones where he was kissing Keith’s cheek. Now he was missing his boyfriend again. God. Okay. No more swords. Time to move on to Shiro and who better to ask than his boyfriend?

“Hey, Curtis. What are you getting Shiro for Christmas?”

“I’m not going through this again”

Tilting his head back, Lance frowned up at Curtis

“What does that mean?”

Curtis sighed at him

“It means Keith nearly had a mental breakdown trying to decide on your gift. I will not go through that again”

Lance blinked at him, a warm feeling in his belly that his boyfriend cared that much. He didn’t blame Curtis for not wanting to go through that again, a stressed Keith could be very bossy and uncooperative

“No, I’m being literal here. I don’t want to get him the same thing as you. I’m tossing up between getting Keith another blade, or some camera equipment. I thought I’d move onto Shiro”

“Oh. I was sure you were edging into asking what you should purchase for Keith. He was quite the wreck the morning of your birthday. 5 cups of coffee, all in different cups. Pacing nonstop. Freaking out because he hadn’t purchased a present and it had to be just right and in no way lame”

Lance huffed at Curtis. He really wanted to call Keith now... Their camping trip seemed so long away... 52 days. Every day counting down was being marked off on his office calendar and his friend calendar

“I am trying not to think about how much I miss my boyfriend. What should I get Shiro?”

Shiro was filled with “Dad” vibes. Sometimes it felt he was the only mature one around them

“You could get us matching T-shirts. I’m with stupid pointing to him, and his saying “I am stupid””

“Dude, that seems more like something you should give him. Maybe I’ll skip him for now”

“You could get him an ugly sweater?”

Lance hummed. Shiro was a closet nerd. He’d seen the bobble head collection... and the movie collection...

“That could work. Maybe some socks to make it feel like a dad present. Thanks for the idea. What are you getting him?”

“I’m thinking I should get him an ugly sweater now”

Lance rolled his eyes

“That’s what you told me to get him”

“But it’s such a good idea. Why don’t we all get him ugly sweaters?”

“Because you’re the one who’s going to have to live with the consequences”

“I don’t mind”

“Fiiiiine. But you better gift him something else to make up for it, or he’s really going to think we don’t like him”

“I think I’ll manage. Why are you shopping now?”

“So it’s all out the way. Postage gets hectic around Christmas and if there’s going to be delays than I want the extra time”

He was letting his age show. But with two months to go before everyone started going mental for Chris, he wanted things all organised so he didn’t have the last minute rush to deal with. He had his eye on a nice outdoor setting as his birthday gift to himself, a little late, but if he timed it right he couldn’t always say it was an early Christmas present. He wanted something bigger to fit them all comfortably, once he’d extended the brickwork... maybe built a pen for Kaltenecker... ohhh... Kaltenecker could have her own stall near the house. They could build a doggy training course for Kosmo... and Matt...

“Curtis, do you know anything about construction”

“Not particularly. Dismantling measures... Explosives. Survival measures”

“Do you want to try building a cow pen with me?”

“No. And you will not be building one either. Go back to your Christmas shopping”

Lance pouted. Not liking being told not to do something. It wasn’t an ego thing. It was something he’d heard so many times in his life. No matter how good he’d been, he wasn’t good enough

“I did all the repairs on the house for like the most part, and things are still standing”

“So you did the electrics, the plumbing, reroofing...?”

Well... no. The walls had to come down to tackle the mould and... his ego didn’t like what Curtis was saying

“I pulled down the walls and replaced them once I got rid of the mould”

“Great. You broke stuff. Speaking of broken stuff, Matt and Rieva broke the bed again”

“I heard. Maybe it’s time to get them another bed for that room? Instead of two singles pushed together?”

“Weren’t they planning on moving out once their probation ended?”

“That’s beside the point...”

He really liked having them there. Not just because he’d become friends with them, but for the added security of having two werewolves in the off chance of things going south

“You’re acting delusional. Maybe it’s the stress of Christmas shopping?”

“I’m not stressed. And before you ask, I’ve already ordered your present”

“I know. I’ve been on your laptop”

“Dude! Privacy! I’ve got confidential client... you’re an arsehole”

Curtis started laughing as he snapped at him

“You should have seen your face”

“You should see what I’m going to do to yours”

Curtis brushed his hair back from his horn

“It’s because I’m horny, isn’t it? You wouldn’t hit a horny man”

Lance choked on air. Curtis laughing at him as he spluttered. Part of Curtis’s Christmas present might have to go missing in revenge. Sulkily, Lance snapped his laptop closed. His friend was a dick. He was a raisin cookie pretending to be filled with chocolate goodness

“I’m going to go make lunch while you think about your actions”

And check in on Matt who was doing “Top Secret Research”

“Oh, good. Food and free entertainment. This really is the life”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #klance #mpreg #bottomlance #top keith #vampire lance #ashratherose

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leveys · 4 years

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alright kiddos, time to meet this mess of a woman — SPECIAL AGENT MATILDA “MATT” LEVEY, 39, fbi (enhanced swat). a protector, a warrior, an idealistic lover of fighting for the right cause (ex wife of another fbi agent, mother of a nine year old smartass who’s currently living in her arizona hometown with her father). she’s been undercover as a member of the blazing bandits for the past five years, and though she fucks up here & there, she’s devoted to the Cause™. quick info about her (TW for DEATH, WAR, MILITARY, DIVORCE):

BASIC FACTS:

• chain smoking like there’s no tomorrow. • smartass, always has the last word (and you won’t like it). • relentless, won’t take a half truth for an answer. will always push you to come clean abt something. there’s no getting away from it. • has italian blood which means family > anything. she’s super close with her brother (who’s actually in charming!), lost her eldest brother and still hurts about it. • the Mom™ — doesn’t matter how old you are, she will look after you, and call you out on your bs. (especially if your name is arlo or mona, smh). • kind of has a huge heart but?? u gotta earn it • might actually stick around after the event, maybe join the charming pd?? wE’LL SEE

BIOGRAPHY:

her mother always knew she was gonna make her prematurely grow white hair. she’d known since the day she was born, but she was sure of it the one time she took her to church & when the priest said ‘we shall pray’, hers was the only voice resonating in the silent halls — why ? why, why, always looking for answers. she’d be happy when given reasonable ones, but knew her way around the answers she didn’t like. her brothers called her a smartass, & momma yelled when they’d say that, but they laughed & she did too. she’d follow them everywhere, letting them teach her foul words as well as how to punch people who pissed her off. she asked why to everything, & they had answers no adult ever had. it drove her parents insane, sometimes. each time she got grounded they found a way to sneak you out, & her dad, the general, one day just gave up — do whatever the hell you want, he said, just don’t get in trouble. she still does, sometimes, but for right causes only. she never understood trouble for trouble’s sake.

she was a good kid, when not actively antagonizing her teachers. she loved science — other subjects not as much, but she got by. general levey would have to make his peace with that. and detention wasn’t that bad, anyway. in the school library she met a boy — one year older but he looked even further out from the school’s elite than she was. arthur had kind eyes and a warm smile. she liked wasting her time with him, and for the first time, she didn’t feel like asking why.

they talked — a lot. both outcasts from the core group of cool kids they’d never be a part of, but they signed an unspoken pact to survive high school together. she’d say she hated this place enough to say she’d want to go far, far away, to the end of the world — he’d just smile and say hey, i’d follow you there.

but she wasn’t joking, no. johnny, the eldest of the levey children, straight out of college decided he’d join the army. why, she asked, & he had an endless list of reasons. she ended up being convinced, too. the general was proud of this, her mother not so much. can’t you be like jeremy, go study biology instead ? she didn’t get it — johnny did. she had a fire burning inside, like she had to do something, had to stand up for what was right. at eighteen she thought that meant believing in patriotism & joining the army, so she followed johnny & enrolled.

she was never one for goodbyes, so she left quickly; no good with words, so there was no heartfelt letter for arthur, just a scribbled out note saying she’d be back soon.

but ‘soon’ turns to years, and it’s hard, rough years that take the spark from her eyes. she’d ask ‘why’ too many times — why are we bombing this village ? why are we shooting civillians ? most of the time, she found enough answers to outweigh the questions, but at night, staring wide-eyed at the top of her tent, she felt a part of herself dying.

but a part of her survived. january 2003, new cadets came in and there was a face she feared she was starting to forget — the same kind eyes, the same warm smile. didn’t i say i’d follow you to the end of the world ?, he says. the ‘why’ was on her lips but she didn’t ask — he had a superpower, that kid, the only one who could ever leave matty the smartass speechless. & she held on to him. in nights where this job made her stomach turn, she held on to that smile. when the part of her that was dying shrieked in agony, she hid in a tent with him & pretended they were back in that shithole of a town, pretended they were kids again, the bombs were just fireworks, the same old new year’s eve in the same old desperate neighborhood.

but new year’s eve came and took johnny away. a raid gone wrong, and the eldest of the levey children dies a war hero. she was desperate, she broke her hand punching walls, begging for answers ‘cause it made no fucking sense — but why was never met with a reason, what went wrong remained unanswered. the part of her that was dying, it almost gave up — so she had to go back. it felt like defeat, like there were a million questions that would never get an answer. but arthur came home too, & she held on to him — to his quiet strength that was nothing like her violent ways, to the reasons he’d find without demanding an answer with planted feet. over time, she healed. thanks to him, she healed. one year later they were married — nobody on the whole planet would ever have expected her to settle down, but she did, & god, she was happy. she got a new job that allowed her to do more good & less harm within the swat team of the fbi — arthur joined the fbi as well, and this new version of her life started fitting her much better.

she missed johnny all the fucking time, but she learned how to handle the grief in healthy ways and avoid punching walls. she found comfort in the family she’d once disregarded, she learned how to allow herself the softness of love & the warmth of affection. her parents, her other brother — they had been grieving too, and they warmed up each other with memories of the leveys’ golden boy.

and then cassie came along. unexpected, unscripted, but a blessing either way — she had her father’s eyes and her mother’s frown, the same curious look when asking for answers, but thank god none of matt’s aggression. it felt like a movie, this new life; the happy ending after a long, tiring journey. a pill of happiness that made her dizzy. but this wasn’t a movie, this was real life, and real life meant a job that put her on the front line every day. she could retire, she could be a stay-at-home mom — as if she could settle for that. she loved, she would’ve given her life for her, but she knew giving up her job would mean die a little, and do her wrong, too. there were things she wanted to teach her child, how to have faith in yourself & stand up for what you believe in — but that was where she and her husband began arguing. two different views clashing, two opinions, however correct they may have been — incompatible, despite theri best intentions. she started doubting him and his reasons. once upon a time she’d used to hang from every word he’d say, a blind faith in all he was — but now was the time to ask, why ? why should she give up a job that saves people, that protects human beings like cassie or him ? why should putting a child in the world be a curse, & not a blessing ? why, why, why ? why is her marriage falling apart this quickly ?

they divorced after cassie’s sixth birthday. she was a smart kid, she figured it out — in a way she seemed to understand, but matt knew she was gonna have some apologies to make, when she’d be older. meanwhile she’d fight. she began working harder. she tried to prove to anyone that she wasn’t an asshole— that she was still a good mother, that this wasn’t her fault, that she could be a mother & an agent & save people & still make it home in time for dinner.

she could feel arthur’s blame on her every time they crossed their gazes at work.she didn’t hate him, and she didn’t think he did, either — but something was broken there and she couldn’t help but wonder, was she really that good at her job, if she could save everyone but couldn’t save herself from this ?

cassie needed him ( matt did, too ), so they settle around a new routine. joined custody, a truce of sorts. a compromise — & she didn’t ask why anymore. growing up, she learned, meant accepting that sometimes things just happen without a reason.

people die, children are born, marriages fall apart, & divorced parents can still stay together. either way, the world goes on. thinking about it, that might be the best reason of them all.

then a chance appeared — a task force revolving around gang activities in utah. not the gig she’d been dreaming of, but a chance to do some real good, put an end to a spiral of traffics that couldn’t seem to be stopped. she looked at her life in shambles — her depression settling in, the strained relationship with her ex husband, the fear, the constant fear for a daughter they brought into a world that’s made of ravenous beasts. the choice was easy. one day she got to work, called arthur into a separate room and let him know she was leaving. how long?, he asked. she didn’t know. that part, that was the one that hurt the most.

for a while, her job was the same as before — kicking doors, rescuing people recovering drugs. the need for family, a crippled vein that ached in her heart every passing day, found some sort of relief in the company of the rookie they assigned her, whose name was arlo but she soon found pleasure in calling kid. though she’d cut herself out of the only place she could ever really call home, matt just had to keep moving.

the chance to go undercover presented itself as a temptation. it would be a dangerous job, her daughter might remain an orphan — yet she took it, for she wasn’t happy unless she was on the front lines, really putting her life on the line. joining the bandits as dylan harker, thirty-eight, was somewhat easy— pretending to be a good-for-nothin’ mother who’d left a child behind to pursue a life chasing bullets, well, that came easy. far too fucking easy.

three years later, she’s been doing her job so well she’s getting results in. they might actually get a chance at taking these guys down — except one day there’s a reckoning with the other guys, their rival gang, the unfazed, and there’s a familiar face among their ranks, the kid now grown enough to be put into her same position, just on the other side of it. it’s enough to drive her mad, call her superiors and ask what the fuck are you doing?

after arlo came mona, and though she would've loved to say she was smarter than growing attached, she began finding a sense of family again, the kind she so sorely missed. mona, rookie cop on her same task force, became a sort of daughter — and arlo, god. if he was a son, he was being the kind that would break her heart.

little by little, she has to begin coping with danger. that danger is not just what she puts herself in every day. danger is the chance to lose the people she loves. danger is when she can’t protect them anymore. danger is her daughter being on the other side of the states, not knowing whether she even has a mother anymore. danger is her protegée exposed, exactly as she is, to the ugliest face of the world. danger is a feeling that keeps her up at night: perhaps this time she won’t make it out alive.

MORE INFO

hit me up if you’d like to plot or interact in some way! i’d love for matt to develop any sort of relationship within the bandits even though she’s undercover, so that ♥

#charming.temporary #intro #HENLO

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skyking91-archive · 4 years

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Discord thread featuring: Sky & @samuelburton

When: October 4, 2020 - right before Sam takes Sky to her surprise birthday party

Where: Sam’s apartment

Mentions: @jesskipp

Description: Sam cooks Sky a b-day lunch, and plays her the song he wrote for her

Trigger Warnings: fluff fluff fluff.

Sam

sam had been preparing a little something special for sky's birthday for a little while now. it was hard to compete with yacht parties and expensive gifts, but sam knew that all sky really wanted was to spend time with her loved ones on her special day. sam was lucky to be counted among them. he hadn't always been the most talented in the kitchen, but he really had been working on improving his skills and for lunch he whipped up a light but tasty pasta dish that was absolutely delicious. it was sam's responsibility to get sky to the surprise party, so they didn't have too much time, but sam wanted to make the most of it. the table was set appropriately with candles and roses because if sam learned anything from watching the food network it was all about the presentation. he pulled sky's chair out for her and once she was seated, ducked his head to speak directly into her ear. "happy birthday, love," he told her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

Sky

Sky hasn’t been this happy in a while. She had a good job, one in which she was making a lot of money off, she was just cast as one of her dream roles in one of her favorite shows, and most importantly she had to most loving and supportive boyfriend that anyone could ever ask for. Sam’s plan for today was so romantic. There was nothing sexier than a man who wanted to cook for their lover. While Sky loved fancy parties and an excuse to dress up, but when it came to Sam...quality time with him was everything she ever needed and more. She was still in her dance outfit from the class she taught at Jaycee’s studio earlier when she entered the room. Her face lit up at the sight. “Sam...” she mused, blushing a little at the way he pulled out the chair for her and kissed her on the cheek. She felt like a real princess.

Sam

sam sat across from her at the small table he'd set for them. it was no elaborate set up with balloons and paper hearts, but it was heartfelt non the less. he uncorked the bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass. "i thought since it's your birthday we could definitely indulge in a little day drinking," he told her with a wink. it was so nice to be able to spend time with sky like this. between rehearsals, her dance classes, and her job, it was getting harder to spend quality time together like this. it only made it harder that they couldn't really be seen in public together. but sam was so happy for her. she was doing so well and he couldn't be more proud of her. "an amazing home cooked meal for an amazing girl," sam smiled, raising his glass.

Sky

Ah, wine. Sky and Jess considered themselves wine connoisseurs even though they were far from that. She hummed contently as she watched him pour the wine for the pair. This was the simplest gesture, but she honestly felt like a fucking princess. Sky had such a busy and crazy life, but she loved keeping busy and doing the things she was passionate about. She hadn't been this happy in such a long time. She was making money, dancing, singing, acting, and dating the best man in the entire city. 29 was bound to be an amazing year. "I love you." she smiled at him, raising her glass and taking a tiny sip of her wine.

Sam

“don’t say that until you’ve tried the pasta,” sam joked, though he was smiling the way he did whenever she told him she loved him. he would never tire of hearing her say that. sam tipped back his glass, taking a sip of wine before promptly digging in. it was pretty fucking good and sam felt relief wash over him. they weren’t the kind of couple who needed everything to be perfect to enjoy themselves but he wanted to do something nice for sky for her birthday and was glad that he really had improved as far as cooking goes.

Sky

Sky snorted at her little goofball. She followed his lead and took a tiny bite of the pasta, much more gracefully than Sam was eating. But wow. It was so damn good. She took another sip of her wine before locking eyes with him and reaching across the table to grab his hand. "Thank you so much." She grinned again. Her face was hurting from smiling so hard. This was such a sweet gesture, and it made her heart so full. She really did not think she deserved Sam. There was still a pit in her stomach about the whole Mat thing, and part of her thought that their relationship would end the same way it did before. But moment like these reassured Sky that Sam really was the one.

Sam

“you deserve it,” sam told his girlfriend, his smile warm and genuine, his eyes soft. seeing her happy like this made sam absolutely melt. he loved her so much. they continued eating and chatting, joking around, and just generally having a really good time. once they’d both finished their meal and another glass of wine, sam stood and rounded the table. he stood behind her, squeezing her shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her head. “i’ve got one more surprise for you,” he told her.

Sky

This was perfect. She was always having a laugh when she was with Sam, and she was just so genuinely happy this afternoon. Sky raised her brows when her boyfriend told her that he had another surprise for her — her mind automatically going to a nice gift. His massive cock would be nice too. She tilted her head to look into her favorite pair of blue eyes. Her heart stopped just about every time she looked into them. Still. “What is it?” She asked eagerly.

Sam

“come here.” sam took sky’s hand and guided her out of her chair and into his room. “i’d love to give you diamonds or something just as extravagant because you deserve it, but i hope that this will be just as good if not better,” he told her before guiding her over to sit beside him at his keyboard. sam loved the piano, but he rarely played for others. it was something that he kept for himself. but this was a special occasion and music had always been something so important to sam and was sometimes the easiest way for him to express what he was feeling. he smiled at sky, a little nervous, and began to play. it was a medley of her favorite showtunes interwoven with score from some of her favorite movies. his fingers glided skillfully over the keys as he transitioned from one piece into the next before ending with something completely original. he’d written it especially for sky. he’d poured everything into it, communicating with music rather than words just how much she meant to him.

Sky

Sky chuckled. Diamonds sounded nice, but she’d never ask Sam to do that for her. Bedsides, she’d soon be able to buy her own diamonds with this new job. She grinned as she followed him. Her heart fell into her stomach and she stopped him her steps when he sat down on the piano. He didn’t. She slowly moved to sit down on the bench next to him, her jaw to the floor. This was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard in her life. Her dark eyes flickered from his gorgeous hands to his face which was concentrated on the keys below them. Sky really didn’t expect something like this at all. This was better than any diamonds or gold anyone could ever buy her. “I love you.” She told him. He didn’t even need to say those words back to her because she could tell just how much he did by listening to that song. “Sam...” she put her face in her hands. She was absolutely speechless for once.

Sam

sam couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction. his heart was so full of love for his girlfriend and seeing the look on her face was all he ever needed. sam put his arms around her, pulling her into his side and kissing her on the head. “you? speechless? who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” he teased, squeezing her shoulder. “happy birthday, love,” he told her. “you’re everything to me.”

Sky

“Shut up.” She giggled, nudging him in the arm with her elbow playfully. But he was right. Damn. Sky could talk but there were not words to describe how she was feeling right now. “I’m happy to be spending this year with you.” She told him. “You’re my everything too.” She looked over at him with a bright smile. She wished she could give him everything so that he could just work on his music. She’d work her three jobs — Jaycee’s studio, the show, and Mat’s fake girlfriend — 24/7 if that meant that Sam could just do what he loved all day. She owed him that much. “Hey. We should write a song together one day.” She smirked.

Sam

sam smiled when she said she was happy to spend the year with him. it was kind of funny the way they ended up together once again, just in time for the holidays. it almost felt like a do over, though a lot had changed. sam was determined to get it right this time around. “me too,” he said, still holding her close. at her suggestion, he turned to look at her, eyes bright with excitement at the idea of creating music together. “yeah?” he said, his smile widening. “you know i love hearing you sing,” he added, leaning in to kiss her sweetly. when he pulled away, he managed to catch sight of the clock on the nightstand. if they were going to make it to the party in time, they needed to start getting ready. “hey, how about we take a bit of an evening stroll?” he asked.

Sky

And Sky loved to sing for Sam. He was probably her biggest fan and she was most definitely his. He supported her career like nobody she ever knew. Especially since growing up was so hard for her. Sam was one of maybe two or three consistent people she had in her life at this point. Sky pouted when her boyfriend pulled away from her, although the words coming out of his mouth were beyond sweet. Of course they made Sky blush, but she wanted to be kissing him again so damn bad. "Or we could stay here and I could jump your bones?" She kissed him again, leaning into him this time. A walk sounded nice, sure. But this was better.

Sam

sam kissed her back, smiling against her lips. it was really really tempting. and sounded like a much better option to sam. but he’d been given the responsibility of getting sky to that party and he knew that sky would absolutely love that her friends, namely jess, had put it together for her. “you don’t know how much i’d love that,” he sighed as he pulled away. “but i think you’d really enjoy taking a walk,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. he knew that there were probably more subtle ways of getting sky out the door, but they were working against the clock here. “trust me,” he told her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss in the nose.

#discord #sam

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nikeairmaxt07-blog1 · 4 years

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Heartfelt Birthday Wishes for your Mother

Peruse the best assortment of sincere Birthday Wishes for Mom. Each mother merits extraordinary acknowledgment on her birthday. In the event that you get the opportunity to visit, bring a blessing. Possibly she has consistently adored chocolate cherries. Bring her a container, enclosed by exquisite paper. Include a card that you have gotten yourself, with a unique, customized birthday message you have composed inside. On the off chance that you can't appear face to face, you can in any case send blessings and messages. Attempt to send a bundle or a card sufficiently early so it will show up on schedule. It's imperative to show your mom that you are thinking about her; we as a whole prefer to be recalled at extraordinary occasions. Here is a rundown of uncommon mother's birthday wishes that can be added to a card or sent by email. Messages sent by email can be sent ultimately and still show up on schedule! Consider what a fortune it will be the point at which she opens her email on her unique day and finds a little message from you. Regardless of whether you will see her soon thereafter, it actually says that you love her and was thinking about her. Browse this rundown of 50 charming birthday messages you can send to give her that you give it a second thought!

Glad Birthday, Mom! I need you to realize that I am nothing without you, yet I can be everything with you close by. Love you! Each birthday memory I have incorporates you lighting the candles on my cake. Much obliged to you for all that you have done, and I am anticipating giving back in kind this end of the week. Consistently I wake up, I generally have you to thank. I have your direction, your glow, your affection, and your heart: somebody who cherishes me genuinely. Right or wrong, you are forever my Mom. Mother, nobody can actually have your spot in my heart. I love you for all eternity. Regardless of where I go or whom I meet, you will consistently be Number One to me. Out of the apparent multitude of moms out there, you have certainly overcome the most, since raising me was likely a bad dream. However, you actually suffered it and cherished me perpetually, and for that, I appreciate you. Cheerful Birthday! My dear mother, regardless of how wrinkled your face has become, the grin that joins it is more brilliant than any individual, regardless of how youthful or old. Your thoughtful heart is the thing that has joined everybody around you, making them love you. Be constantly this astounding individual that you are today. Cheerful Birthday!

At the point when everybody disclosed to me I'd fizzle, you revealed to me I had just succeeded, however I simply needed to place in the work for it. At the point when no one had confidence in me, you did. When all that appeared to be dim, you turned on the lights. You are the sort of individual that everybody needs in their carries on with, the sort of individual to consistently adore and trust in others. The individual to not think about negatives and just spotlight on the positives. The sort of individual that merits the world, yet just requests love. Since for you, love has consistently been your whole world. Cheerful Birthday! You have offered me such incredible guidance throughout the long term, Mother. I need to take this exceptional day and use it as a chance to thank you for all that you do. Indeed, I wind up without any words to communicate the amount you intend to me on this extraordinary day. In any case, you realize me better than I know myself, so I'm certain you definitely know. Have the best Birthday ever! In this way, perhaps you generally consumed supper and bought locally acquired birthday cakes, you actually figured out how to make a great family. Glad Birthday to an astonishing mother who just continues showing signs of improvement. The more established I get, the more I understand that Mom is in every case right. It truly is genuine that individuals show signs of improvement with age. Try not to let another birthday get you down when you simply improve with consistently. For an incredible duration, you have consistently been the quality that holds me up in the stormiest of times. I love you.

I have an inclination that I am not communicating my adoration for you enough, so I picked this day as a chance to do as such. I need you to recognize what a stunning of a mother you are. Continually thinking about me like no one else ever has. As yet putting stock in me when no one did as such. Continually putting my requirements before yours when everybody was looking simply after themselves. I love you, and that is the most earnest words that have ever happened to my mouth, and I accept they are sufficient to communicate what might have taken pages upon pages to communicate my affections for you effectively. Upbeat Birthday! You are stunningly lovely with every year you age, and I guarantee I'm not trying to say this since it's your Birthday. That's right, I simply checked the mirror, and I'm glad to state I look increasingly more like you consistently. That must mean you aren't looking any more seasoned despite the fact that it's your Birthday. That makes my future look incredible! Just a super mother can do all that you do and still look astonishing each day! Cheerful Birthday to a mother who just continues getting more youthful on a basic level. As you get up early today, I trust you appreciate the fresh natural air brimming with brilliant daylight and relish the sound of peeping winged creatures. May each morning of this new year be as splendid and exceptional as the delight you bring to my life. Cheerful Birthday, Mom!

You merit a birthday that is as astonishing as you seem to be! Glad Birthday to the World's Best Mother! Ardent welcome to my heavenly attendant sweetheart. May your day be made of pleasantness. Upbeat Birthday, Mom! Dear Mom, I need to state thank you for bringing forth me and supporting me consistently. You are to be sure the best mother an individual can have. I love you. Upbeat Birthday! My most prominent wish is to grow up and turn out to be much the same as you. Upbeat Birthday, Mother, and thank you for your entire being and guidance that has helped me become the individual I am today. Recollect that birthday cake you made me with my preferred animation character? I realize that it took hours, and it generally spoke to the consideration you shared on my exceptional day. Presently, it's my chance to take you out for a unique day. Each morning that I wake up, I accomplish something that makes me consider you. From cooking to cleaning to dealing with the children, I see you in all that I do. Much obliged to you for going down these significant life exercises. Hello, recall that family excursion when we got lost and ended up having some good times than we ever arranged? Life growing up with you really is an undertaking, and I anticipate more to come. There is consistently one day of the year that I can generally give a valiant effort to give you how you affect me consistently. Today is your day, and I trust you appreciate what I have available. Upbeat Birthday, Mother!

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xpuriity · 4 years

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GOLDEN SKIES BECOME BLINDING IN THE MIDST OF A SETTING SUN, shimmering blankets of gold now pierced by anchors as a whale of a ship halts at the port of a quiet island, seemingly empty of inhabitants ——– A world of overgrown ivy crawling along stone walls and rotting wood resembling what looked to have been a sign now much too obscure to decipher the use for. Perhaps a world untouched in many decades; abandoned for reasons unknown to the group of pirates freely roaming the site today.

It had been perhaps, months in the making since discovering the vacant island. Having embarked solo on a journey one day, the Fire Fist stumbled upon the potential fruits the island could provide him, that is to say, had the right person decided to plant the seeds and put in the labor.

A vision was formulated and put into action in secrecy. Days he would keep from his beloved hummingbird as he ventured off with a select few others when the need of assistance caught up with one ever so typically determined to work independently on his project ——– Physical work he was always more than capable of, but what could one man achieve within a set deadline and without the tools and brains required to make his vision come to fruition?

❛❛ I’ve got you, Rosa. ❜❜ he speaks softly whilst guiding the hand so much more softer and smaller in comparison to his own. Doe-eyed indigo blues ensured to be blinded temporarily; petite digits having been instructed to hold in place the tilting of his signature hat over delicate features until given a signal.

A pathway was cleared prior to this special day, ensuring it to be nonhazardous for the very person he bothered creating this for at all ——– but useless it was, really. Especially when impatience got the better of him quarter of their journey through overgrown green. Ace backpedals in a manner quite abrupt, releasing of her hand momentarily before sweeping the petite off her feet entirely ——– and readily, after giving a quick word of warning, the male springs through the forest with quick ease, holding tightly onto his princess in arms, of course.

It is only once he slows ( which doesn’t necessarily take long considering his speed ), that the birthday girl is carefully placed back onto her own footing and that the very hat serving to conceal of her sight was finally retrieved by the owner.

❛❛ You.. like this sort of thing, right? ❜❜

Before indigo irises, there stood a bridge of stone above a running river, as if a scene stolen from right out of a fairy tale. One leading out to a clearing, contrasting the messy forest behind them.

Beyond the bridge was where the magic truly began ——– Soft lights of pink and redish hues decorated the scene. Few shipmates caught enjoying the little wonderland in the distance, having already prepared a banquet of sorts ( including a grand table of luxurious desserts for hers truly ) and awaiting for the rest of the party to arrive; particularly the princess of the very world Ace worked so hard to create ——– but the most brilliant, most magical of the scene? There stood in the very center a carousel of vibrant colors, emitting music so nostalgic, so similar to what you would so often hear from a music box.

❛❛ I found it abandoned a little while ago.. It was in rough shape, but for some reason I couldn’t leave it alone out here. ❜❜ A heartfelt smile is presented to her, speaking as if the ride itself was alive. The truth being he couldn’t so much as ignore it when the vision of her smile had followed him everywhere just simply entertaining the possibility that he had he could actually bring it back to life.

A hand swiftly catches her own, wanting to simply join her across the bridge before she proceeded on her own towards the scene resembling the pictures inside the fairy tales he always knew his girl loved so much.

The others merely observed in delight when the couple made their way towards them. A few cheers towards the birthday girl before it was her partner that gingerly, however swiftly seats her upon the back of a glowing hummingbird. One not originally there, but crafted just for hers truly.

❛❛ It’s a little stubborn, this one.. Hold on. ❜❜ He explains, half circling the carnival ride of restructured and repainted animals. The mechanics behind it having been inspired, and therefore similar to his Striker. Meaning a line of wild fire would be needed to be lit so as to propel the acceleration of the carousel itself ——– it quite irritated Ace initially to learn it couldn’t so much as run without his flames, thus a brief, disappointed frown is visible across freckled features at the reminder before brushing such off once the ride began.

Lights danced, as did the animals of various colors. To witness of any expressed happiness from his beloved delighted him immensely. In fact, the pace of which the carousel spun was dependent on the strength of his wild flames. And during the fun, he would be laughing, either accelerating the ride or the complete opposite, simply for the birthday girl’s entertainment.

Sooner or later, after the first ride, the rest of the party would join in on the fun. Some either complaining of the nauseating spinning or thriving off it. Eventually, as the golden skies transformed into a night of glowing stars, the crowd finally dispersed, leaving the two alone once more.

This time, the male spent his first and Rosa’s final ride right along with her. Both perched upon the back of the hummingbird with his arms laced around her petite waist protectively, as though she were treasure. And tiredly, his chin would lean upon a crown of strawberry blond curls whilst a soft tune follows the couple, his tamed fire visibly glowing as they propel the carousel from beneath.

❛❛ Never thought I’d ride something like this, even as a kid. ❜❜ Being that as a child, he didn’t have the luxury to do so. Nor did he ever want to entertain the thought due to the ride being deemed only for girls by a ten year old boy ——– To think, several years later, that same aggressive child now a grown man would willingly rebuild one for the sake of a woman’s smile.

Cue a loving smile of his own, silver irises ever so gentle beneath the moonlight as a hand gingerly guides feminine features to one side, himself moving in ever so slowly to place a kiss upon what was deemed the softest, most delicate and most heavenly touch he’d ever been given the luxury to taste.

❛❛ Happy birthday, Rosa.. ❜❜

VACANT LAND BATHED IN WARM TWILIGHT HUES, light bouncing off the stone walls resembling picturesque images straight from worn out pages of ancient fairy tales and stories from untouched worlds of fantasy — an enchanting view but one which is as quickly taken away from mesmerized and blinking indigo blues as instructed by her most beloved to temporarily conceal of her vision.

His signature hat he entrusts the petite with and she clings to it protectively over strawberry blonde waves, not daring for a moment to steal a single peak —— all the while digits interlock with the one she trusted to always keep her safe and guide her way, a promise she knew to be as true as the ring he adorned around her finger.

Peacefully they march together, when an abrupt halt draws confusion, his name echoed through the vast space in question. ❝Ace?❞ she softly inquiries but the answer is given before she could even ponder on it —— in swift movements, the ground is taken from below her feet, instead replaced with the feel of strong arms securing her tightly within their hold prompting a loud squeal to escape in surprise, however, almost instantly it is followed by timid giggles and ecstatic laughter.

Rosa had been no princess and her man no royal prince, rather both but mere pirates yet in his arms, she could almost swear she had been one —— rather more than any princess, she had been certain, no girl in the history of time had ever been as blessed as she is, simply to have him be the love of her life.

A short journey it had been, but finally indigo hues are granted their sight again, and they couldn’t have possibly unveiled to a more breathtaking view; a gasp escapes glossy lips, clumsily losing her footing in all her awe as she clings to him for support. ❝Ace, it’s… — ❞ lost for words, she turns to freckled features and the stunned expression upon her own delicate ones say it all as she vigorously nods to the query voiced.

❝I do —— ❞ more than simply like ❝It’s like a fairy-tale —— I love it so much❞

For long months, days in and out would be spent occasionally deprived of her firefly’s warmth with no hint nor clue where his adventures would take him, only that it had been far away from herself — perhaps a cause for concern when particularly seeking the company of a select few individuals but never her among them, however, Rosa had not been of little faith for her man and any worries which may arise are almost instantly forgotten the second he is back safe into her loving arms.

Now before her, stood in luminous vibrant colors the source of her king’s distraction and absence all this time, emitting melodies so soothing to the hummingbird’s heart which had been about to burst in joy, unable to quite contain its excitement.

❝That’s.. that’s where you’ve been going, all this time — ❞ she speaks softly as realization slowly sunk in — indigo glistening with love, touched beyond words. ❝You fixed it up.. all for me?❞ the hand she is holding is given a gentle squeeze before her gaze is redirected to the ride he had worked hard to prepare, just for her.

Grateful loving words would undoubtedly follow had the petite not been too taken by the scene to rush on with innocent enthusiasm —— so much she resembled no more than a little girl, the very same one to spend years coped up inside her small room keeping busy with picture perfect fairy tales yet now they paled in comparison to the real thing surrounding her.

Cheers of their loving family drew shy giggles from the musician as she hides of embarrassed rosy features in her lover’s chest but it is not enough to conceal of her happy giggles and laughter, evidently thankful for everyone’s love and hard-work, before she is but swiftly carried away by her prince again, this time guided to her throne, or rather what resembled it to her —— a seat evidently made just for her.

❝It’s a hummingbird..❞ she states the obvious in awe, soft digits gently touching of its glowing surface as she did not for a moment believe this particular seat could have been here out of mere coincidence —— a realization prompting her to lean in and greedily steal a loving kiss then another from his lips just before his flames could bring the wonderland to life.

After that it had been nothing but innocent laughter bubbling through the clearing all the ride long —— her heart held by none other than him as though through his flames not only did he control the carousel but her happiness as well, at which at some point she’d clearly voice. ❝I feel like a princess..❞ one riding in her own kingdom — or rather the little piece of heaven her prince had constructed for her.

With the royal couple of the day left alone, basking in the starlight, Rosa rests her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat in the silence of the night, only pulling away when hearing of what had been deemed the most adorable confession. It prompts the softest smile to her lips. ❝Me neither..❞ she confides slowly; growing up to sounds of gunfire and explosives, it had been difficult for her to so much as believe in the possibility, but she could only ever fantasize about a better life, one of bright colors and happiness as the one he showed her today, or rather every day of her life since coming into it. ❝— I never thought it could be possible.. but I’ve always dreamed of it… every day reading those stories..❞

Captivated by the beauty of silver brighter than the moonlight above, she gently leans into his touch, welcoming the delicate kiss of the only lips she’d ever touched yet forever the only ones she’d ever crave —— deepening it further until he could taste her overwhelming emotions of rapture through tears of joy.

❝ Ace, YOU were my dream come true.. ❞

#xpyre #long post #( EVERY YEAR ROSA GETS SO MUCH LOVE AND SPOILING FROM ACE ON HER BIRTHDAY ;O;#IT'S UNREAL ALL THE EFFORT AND LENGTHS HE GOES TO TO MAKE MY BBY GIRL HAPPY #YOUR DESCRIPTION OF HER AND HOW HE WANTED HER TO SMILE JUST HAD ME SO *SOB* ;O;#their love is so pure and HIS love for HER is so gentle and wholesome ;o;#she feels like a real princess i s2g #only he can do that )#♪ | whispers of the wind ( ic. )#♪ | v: losing grip on sinking ships . you showed up just in time ( main. )#♪ | otp: you gave me wings to fly . painted embers in my skies ( acero. )#♪ | love in every letter written . hope that gets me through the day ( save. )#♪ | she's in the crowd and everybody sings . like it's her birthday ( 11.03. )#submission

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