#and Sebastian is every patient but tired mother | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starbuckie · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

pairing: jefferson hatter x reader

words: 9.9k words with lyrics, 9.7k words without lyrics

warnings: SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, kinda sub!jefferson bc i said so), fluff, angst, mentions of slight alcoholism and death, and just two sad babies dedicated to making each other better

summary: two lost, miserable souls find each other when time has been reduced to a mere concept.

a/n: clearly i, i got carried away, i worked on this piece for elven months and honestly i dont regret it because i think this is the best writing i’ve ever done. in my whole life. i also rewatched hat trick this morning and i miss sexy sexy hat man. im very proud of it, and i love this song more than anything in the world, so please please give it love with reblogs and comments. please enjoy<33

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist || series masterlist

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night

Rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife

And if it was an open-shut case,

I never would've known from that look on your face

Lost in your current like a priceless wine

Condensation slipped down the side of the glass almost as smoothly as the moonshine in it slipped down Jefferson’s throat. His eyes struggled to stay open, blinking so blearily when he faced the dim lights of The Rabbit Hole. The crowded bar drowned out his sorrows, loud clamor and exhaustion filling every one of his senses as he ordered another round of drinks, all for himself.

Any of the locals of Storybrooke would’ve said that his scruffy appearance was his norm, bloodshot eyes and a light stubble peppering his sharp jawline and chin, rosy pink lips in a constant smirk while he bubbled out strings of nonsense. To them, he was just the creepy, drunken man who sat in the second seat on the left side of the bar, drinking himself silly like he wanted to die.

Honestly, that last part couldn’t be closer to hitting home.

Jefferson couldn’t blame the townspeople for his poor reputation. But he also couldn’t say that any of them wouldn’t be in the same position if they had gone through nearly half the loss he did.

He was tired. He was tired of clinging onto alcohol as a lifeline, of late nights at the bar and walking home at night, cursing the sky for something that couldn’t be changed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even let the blessing of sleep overtake his system. His hands were worn and scarred from three years of non-stop sewing, grasping onto the old habit to create some sense of familiarity in his bones. Every flaw on his body served as a reminder far too painful of everything he had lost.

His late mother remained on his cut fingers, and each time he pricked his thumb with a needle he could hear her incessant screaming to continue sewing garments to sell at the market the next day. It was during these moments that if he closed his eyes, the memory of a greyed out, stressed woman counting each dime and penny he laid out on the kitchen table played like a movie.

The weakness in his knees had Priscilla’s name written on it. From the moment he first caught her trying to steal the king of Camelot’s treasure, to giving birth to their dear Grace, to the moment he held her dying body in his shaking arms, his wife had been the one to take his breath away and feeling like a love struck idiot even years after her death.

But his neck, that angry, maroon line of scarred flesh that surrounded his throat, was the most painful of all. It was the result of a strike of vanity within him, when that feral need of going out to get more than he needed prevailed over his own satisfaction. The consequence of what good being greedy got him at the cost of the last good thing left in his life.

Grace was waiting for him. Grace was the one who sat patiently at a cedar table, chopping up vegetables at the neighbor’s house while his head was being chopped off. His darling daughter, who wanted nothing more than his time and his love, the girl who he had dedicated his life to making nothing but joyous, and yet in the end it was him who took that joy away. It was the moment Regina stepped through that magic portal; he finally knew what he had lost. He’d finally lost everyone he’d ever loved, just as he always feared.

She no longer held any memory of him, and he was alone. Moments that Jefferson clutched onto so desperately in his mind were erased in hers, replaced with a life she never knew before. He watched her every morning when she got on the bus, sporting a smile brighter than he’d ever seen when they’d lived out in the woods, and he was forced to live, knowing that both she and him existed in Storybrooke, but in completely different circles. His dear Grace wasn’t his anymore.

And he was the only one to blame.

Tears glossed over his eyes with the effects of the alcohol he quickly downed, and he could only remind himself to not dwell on his family. The memories only made living that much more painful. Darkish, orange hues of light cast long shadows across his face, failing to hide the messy look that people around town snickered at, and picked at the lint of the maroon silk vest he wore, stumbling over his next order of absinthe. He was planning on making his way through the bar’s entire top shelf for the night. The bell jingled off the door of the bar jingled as someone left or came in while he spoke, but Jefferson was both too drunk and too miserable to move around and see who it was until he noticed that the room had gone silent, only the audible sound of heels clacking in hardwood floors echoing around the bar.

“I’ll take an absinthe as well, the Tenneyson, please.”

Jefferson looked to his left, and for the first time in a long time, he was rendered speechless. A young woman sat drenched head to toe from the pouring rain outside, dressed in a delicate, evergreen gown that reached her knees. Despite the drearily horrid storm outside, she seemed quite content in her shivering state, a pretty grin painted on her face. Goosebumps covered her body from head to toe, and if Jefferson had been sober, maybe he would’ve felt kind enough to lend her his coat that hung on the rack by the front door.

Nonetheless, even through his drunkenness he could see the soft, innocent aura that seemed to glow around her. He hadn’t seen such a being as beautiful as her in a long time, and yet an immeasurable amount of guilt seemed to press down on his chest as soon as he admitted that to himself. Priscilla would have wanted him to move on, but there was really no time to do so after she died, having to take care of an infant and provide for her as well.

Jefferson wasn’t aware he was pretty much openly gaping at the poor girl until she faced him with a quizzical expression. Her eyes flitted around the bar, feeling squeamish under his intense stare. “Hello there, can I help you?”

Two drinks were placed down at the counter, but neither of them turned to get them, too entranced in each other's eyes to care. That’s when Y/N noticed that, oh, oh yes, this man was quite good looking compared to her first impression of him. Even through his dilated pupils and reddened face from drinking were normally a red flag in her book, she could see from his attire that suited him far too well and his strikingly blue eyes that he was handsome.

However handsome the man was though, he still hadn’t answered her question, and he still seemed to be in a haze of some sort. “Pardon me, sir, but you’ve been staring at me for quite a while. Are you feeling alright?”

His glazed eyes blinked once, twice, and he was back to his senses. “I’m sorry,” he slurred slowly, “I just haven’t seen a pretty girl in a really, really long time.”

Y/N tried to fight the heat that crawled up her face when he called her pretty, instead trying to find something to continue their awkward introduction. The man clearly was lonely, and she’d heard the hushed whispers when she sat next to him. Hushed tones that only further intrigued her to learn everything about the mystery of him.

“Thanks,” she mumbled quietly. “I’m Y/N.”

That seemed to catch his attention, scooting his stool closer to hers with a lazy smile. She could smell the alcohol he reeked of and in that moment she wondered if it would be a good idea to smash the other glass on the bar to the ground, in fear that she’d have to drag him to the nearest hospital due to alcohol poisoning. “Jefferson, darlin’.”

She nodded with a polite smile as he offered his hand to her, shaking it daintily and for some odd reason, relishing in the way his calloused, rough palm felt against hers. By his looks he was well off, though she didn’t mean to read a book by its cover, with leather pants and boots (something that shouldn’t have looked so damn good together, but he managed to pull it off) and a silk maroon vest overlaying a black, long-sleeved blouse.

Yet his hands showed a lifetime of hard work and pain. They were something that she marveled at for a while, small scars littering his knuckles, each red marking only adding to his appeal. His fingers were long and slender, his larger hand wrapping around her small one in a way that made her feel protected. Everything about him, from his scarred skin to his mysterious aura. She wanted to know everything about him.

But as soon as her questions began to flutter to life, he released her from his firm grip, facing back towards the bar with that glass of straight up absinthe. Y/N tried not to cringe when Jefferson nearly fell off the stool as he downed the drink with a very forceful tilt back of his head. He seemed to be completely unbothered by his own clumsiness, instead smiling to himself before questioning her again.

“I haven’t seen you around this part of town, what brings you to The Rabbit’s Hole?”

He ordered another drink as she took a sip of her first one, swallowing the clear liquid with a harsh gulp before answering. “I usually come during the day.”

That got a raised brow just for the insinuation, which she found mildly infuriating, but the smirk he wore couldn’t be any less sexy.

“It’s too crowded at nights,” she gestured around the bar, which was teeming with buoyant voices once again, “and I don’t drink myself stupid either. Well, not before eleven at least.”

The chuckle she heard was so low that Y/N almost didn’t hear it, but when she looked at Jefferson, he was smiling so wide it was on the verge of psychotic. Her lips parted in what was either confusion or pure want when one of his hands came out to touch her face, a thumb and forefinger delicately holding her chin. “You’re funny, pretty girl.”

Under the circumstances that the man was drunk and barely knew what he was saying, Y/N tried to hide her nervousness with a soft chuckle, forcing herself to remove his hand from her face.

“Time always went by much faster in Wonderland,” he giggled slowly. The sudden change of topic didn’t surprise Y/N, with him being drunk and everything, but the words that he said next were more than worrying. “I miss my dear Grace, my baby. So perfect, she was the sweetest little girl. Have you ever had something too good to lose?”

Y/N froze in surprise, a chill running over her body even though a fire burned on the other side of the room. “I had something once, my beautiful Grace. She was my family, she was my love and my home,” Jefferson hiccuped between his words, and the image of his sad, drunken self was something Y/N knew would be ingrained in her conscience forever. “But now I’ve lost my home, and it’s all my fault.”

He turned away from her with a pout on his rosy lips, his eyes much mistier than they were before. Y/N had no clue who his Grace was, but it was clear from his words that she was quite dear to him. When she walked into the bar she hadn’t planned on feeling like complete shit, but after Jefferson’s uplifting spiel, her mood had been noticeably dampened. Yet, through all the grief that seemed to cloud around the handsome stranger, him and his story intrigued her, and she could feel her three-year addiction to find connection surfacing to her lips. Before she could even stop herself, she blurted, “I lost my home too...”

Her sentence trailed off at the end, her attempt at starting a conversation ending as soon as she saw that Jefferson had fallen asleep, his head already slumped down so his chin was tucked into his chest, eyes blissfully closed and small snores emerging from his throat. A bill was slapped onto the bar, knocking Y/N right out of her melancholy whims, and she scanned over it with a slight worry of how much he had actually drunk that night.

While the bartender was busy trying to wake the sleeping man up with gentle shoves that did absolutely nothing, Y/N pulled out her wallet from her crocheted shoulder bag, prepared to pay for his drinks and her single shot of absinthe. The twenty dollars that she slid over the counter seemed much more interesting to the man across the bar than waking up Jefferson, and with a quiet sigh she pulled herself from the bar.

She had never before brought home a man unless she was planning on sleeping with them, but that was before she was trapped in Storybrooke so Jefferson could be her first. At that point in the night, she felt as though she knew far too much about him to just let him stumble home in his inebriated state.

“Alright, Jefferson, let’s get a move on.” She wrapped her left arm around his waist, bringing his right hand to rest on her shoulder. His hard body slumped against hers as she tried not to acknowledge the hard planes of muscle pressing through the fabric of his vest and against her side, as well as the sleepy groans that were mumbled into the side of her head. Y/N sent the bartender a small smile in thanks as he smirked at her, patrons of the bar staring at her clumsily grabbing his coat off of the hanger with amused expressions

As soon as the cool air and harsh rain of the night hit their skin, Jefferson seemed to wake up a bit more, his reddened eyes blinking slowly to adjust to the darker setting. Cars slowly rolled by, not too many for ten o’clock at night, and maybe if he weren’t so drunk and she had gotten more than one shot in, it would have been an enjoyable night.

However, that thought was immediately ruined when Jefferson pushed her arm from around him, doubling over and puking whatever else he’d consumed besides deadly amounts of alcohol onto the sidewalk.

Y/N sighed gently, rubbing his back soothingly with a slight grimace. “It’s okay, just let it all out. There we go.” She genuinely had no clue why she felt so inclined to help the man, but maybe it was because she possibly found the chance to find someone just as lonely as she was or she was just so desperate to find a person she could care for, in exchange for the slightest bit of affection. They certainly had some things in common, hitting up bars at ungodly times, loving to get piss drunk (though she handled it much better than he was in the moment), and the empty vat of loneliness that could only be filled with copious amounts of alcohol. The words that tumbled out of his mouth so freely in the bar were definitely not coherent, but when he mentioned being separated from his home, she felt a tug at her heart.

“I’ve lost my home, and it’s all my fault.”

She felt guilt and deep resentment towards Jefferson when he’d first said those words. It wasn’t his fault that she was stuck in an endless time loop, isolated from everything and everyone she loved. But that single strand of slurred syllables, those bare words struck Y/N like a slap to the face, to hear the words she had once repeated to herself every time she saw a reflection of herself when she’d first gotten stuck in the much too idyllic town.

So she didn’t feel disgust when Jefferson coughed up a storm as she tugged him along back to her house, or when he silently stalled himself in the rain, prodding his foot at puddles along the way and marvelling at how the surface ripples. With gentle coaxing and sweet sugar-coated words, she led him down a muddy path as he pointed out different species of mushrooms he found along the way. Her house, or more of a cottage really, was out in the middle of the forest, out of the way of the rest of town. While it fit in quite well with the whole aesthetic of Storybrooke, the lonesome house was shrouded in a shivering feel of desolation, surrounded by nothing but wildlife, nearly two miles away from the main road, which really wasn’t that far, but seemed so while she dragged a large man behind her in the pouring shower.

Y/N had never found a reason to move into a house or apartment closer to the shops of the village in the three years she was trapped inside of it. Her house in the middle of the forest reminded her of the one her parents had back in her hometown, where she had been trying to return to what seemed like so long ago. The stone walls had been her family for some time already, the red cardinals and yellow lilies becoming the only things she confided in, and it still amazed her that everyday she mustered the courage to leave her little bubble of tranquility. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to escape before, but every road, every clearing she believed would lead her out of Maine was an illusion, an invisible field of dark magic keeping her trapped inside of Storybrooke like a mouse.

Jefferson was nearly passed out by the time they reached the wooden door, brown curls of hair plastered to his forehead as he leaned against the entryway. Yet, even in his sleepiness, his right hand still cradled her own tightly, not that it bothered her, really. She’d forgotten how pleasant the feeling of simply holding hands was.

“Pardon me, Jefferson, I just need to open the door real fast.” Her fingers fumbled with the single bronze key attached to her keychain, the picture of her mom and dad smiling back up at her pausing her for a second before she got it into the lock.

As soon as the door opened, Jefferson stumbled in clumsily. Y/N tried her best not to cringe as his muddy shoes made tracks over the rugs in the entryway with his soaked clothes dripped with rain. At least he had the good grace to remove his coat from his body and place it on the hooks hung next to the door. But as soon as he did so, he made his way over to her couch, face-planting on the cushions with a loud moan.

“This is really comfortable,” Y/N caught Jefferson’s muffled voice from the door, locking up the inside with a huff.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” she rushed over to her stack of pre-cut wood at the oval fireplace, checking to see if it was dry enough to light up. “You’re gonna be sleeping there tonight.”

His little squeal of excitement was kind of adorable, she couldn’t deny it, and maybe her heart felt a little lighter to share her home with someone even if it was only for one night. The fire rose to a roar of flames quickly after she threw the match in the small bundle of kindle, instantly heating the room up while both of them let out contented sighs at the warmth. When Y/N turned back around, she saw Jefferson staring at the cut-out skylight on the roof of her house. Rain splashed down on the glass so the night view wasn’t too visible, but the sight seemed to entrance him anyways with his comically widened eyes and parted lips.

It was only when she tried to tug the skirt of her dress down that she realized how cold and wet she actually was. “Jefferson, I’ll be back in two minutes, can you stay still for me?” He quietly mumbled some sort of agreement, and she padded upstairs with the green fabric of her dress sticking to her skin.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to look good for Jefferson, after all he was drunk and could barely seem to keep himself together, but when he woke up the next day, she needed to look somewhat presentable. She grabbed a pair of cotton pajama pants and a large tee-shirt to pull over her head, warming her freezing feet with a pair of fuzzy socks before making her way back downstairs in record time to meet the sight of a sleeping man on her couch.

Jefferson’s eyes were blissfully shut, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin with every breath he took. His hair still had not dried and he shivered in the slightest. Y/N grabbed one of the knitted blankets from the side, a hobby she took up during her time in Storybrooke, and tucked it around his body, watching as his chest rose and fell softly. Hopefully he had found some sort of absolved peace in his slumber, some healing to the ache he was feeling at his loss.

Y/N tucked herself into the chair softly, curling her feet beneath herself and pulling a blanket up to her chin. Her eyes fluttered shut in the dimly lit room, watching over the mysterious man on her couch for just a second, before drifting off to a peaceful sleep and hoping for an equally pleasant morning.

Her eyes opened after what seemed like seconds, only to be disappointed by the thin streams of soft sunlight coming in through the circular windows. A small whine escaped the back of her scratchy throat as she unfurled herself from the tight ball she’d curled into while sleeping in the rattan arm chair. Despite the sunniness of it all it was still quite a cold morning, and the chill that formed goosebumps to rise across her skin forced her to bring the blanket on her way to her quaint kitchen.

Her pots of hanging vines and ivy roped across the counters and cabinets, the soft pale orange giving a little shining tint to all of the pans and plates stacked in her glass shelves. In three years she’d built quite the life for her house- easy to do so in a time left frozen, where everyday had just droned endlessly with nothing to do and nowhere to go. It wasn’t very difficult to make a living for herself after the first year, she’d found her happiness in working at Granny’s Diner on the weekends and she’d worked up relationship enough with Granny herself that the kind, older woman let her sell some of her own recipes from her hometown in the place. Ever since then she’d become nearly infamous amongst the breakfast-goers at the diner for her Mayer lemon pancakes, topped with homemade raspberry jam that added just a kick of tartness.

It was a much better life than what she had ever hoped for. Right out of college she had no plan for her life, with a degree in English that she didn’t know how to put to use. She was lost then. And going home to her family, to live in her old room in her middle class house with her mother and father, was less than she had planned for herself than when she was eighteen.

Still, she was lost in Storybrooke as well. Everything seemed so… off. It was almost too perfect. Almost no crime, it was much too cottage-y to be real, and despite her common everyday life, she knew it wasn’t where she belonged. But there was nowhere else to go.

With a gentle sigh she rolled her shoulders back, feeling the knots and bones straighten themselves out and stretch. It was nearly nine-twenty in the morning and she felt that with the ever mysterious Jefferson in her living room, she was bound to have an interesting morning. She began her coffee machine, laying a porcelain painted mug under the stream and turning it on. Both she needed it and she knew the man on the couch would too, especially after the amount of drinking he’d done the night before.

A basket of lemons that she’d picked on the Wednesday before sat on her counter, and she decided to make her lemon pancakes. It was originally her grandmother’s recipe, adding the confectioner’s sugar and syrup into the pancakes to give it an extra woodsy and sweet combination. If Jefferson was allergic to any of those ingredients, well, then that wasn’t her fault.

She began to chop and peel her lemons, careful to remain graceful and quiet in her movements to not wake her sleeping guest. Yet before she could even finish juicing three of them, she clumsily hit her hand a little too aggressively against the metal bowl that sat right next to her small cookplace. Along with measuring cups and a spatula, the bowl went tumbling to the ground, creating a large amount of clattering and clanging as they hit her tile floor.

“Shoot, damn it,” she cursed quietly, kneeling down to pick up her mess.

“What the fu-”

Back in the living room, Jefferson shot up like a light, his arms steadily holding himself up as he looked around frantically. His heart beat fast and loud, and checking his surroundings, he didn’t know whose fireplace that was, or the chair in the corner, or whose couch he was sleeping on though it was quite comfortable. He didn’t remember this place. He didn’t think he’d ever been here, but who knows. Maybe Regina was finally fucking with his mind so he didn’t have to remember everything.

But he did remember it, so clearly that wasn’t a plausible theory.

It must’ve been around nine in the morning. At least that was what the light indicated. There was only one hour in the morning where he didn’t feel like dying and it was because the sky looked too pretty to feel that way. His mind was foggy. It hurt.

Oh, it was pounding. Hangover.

He had gone to the bar and he now remembered the pretty girl Y/N. Pretty name for a girl as pretty as her. He pictured her pretty green dress, and the pretty goosebumps that had scattered across her skin from the cold, and how he had un-prettily proceeded to throw up on her shoes.

He grimaced at the memory. A great first impression.

Before another negative memory could be pulled to the front of his mind, he heard soft padding of feet coming nearer to him. He had a faint idea as to who it was, but at the same time he didn’t want to frighten her or for her to kick him out. He wanted to know how badly he had screwed up the night before. As quickly as he could he fell straight back to his sleeping position, taking the last few milliseconds before she could catch him in her eyesight to tuck the blanket back around his body like a swaddle.

His breathing leveled out as best it could and she heard her quiet humming over him as she looked down on him.

“Good morning, Jefferson,” He pretended to blink away sleep and finally made sober eye contact with the woman who had so kindly taken him in the night before. Y/N softly smiled from above him. Like an angel descending from the sky, the light formed a ring of brightness around her, and even better, she smelled like something sweet and citrusy and soft, like newly picked lemons from a blossoming tree. But then she smirked gently, her lips spreading wider when she saw straight through his horrid acting. “I know you were awake, there’s no way you slept through that loud mess I made.”

He grinned sheepishly, a boyish thing that sent something aflutter in her chest. “What- what were you making?”

“Lemon pancakes. You want?” She asked, her fingers fumbled with each other, awaiting his response like she was nearly nervous.

He then found it in himself to let out a genuine smile, the first one he’d had sober in weeks. She mirrored him instinctively, a small giggle leaving her lips at his happier expression. And that was when Jefferson first found his heart beating for a woman for the first time in a long time. The once dead butterflies laying at the pit of his stomach began to flap their wings again, so he laid a signature smirk on his face, settling into a much more relaxed position against the couch to answer her.

“Whatever you’ll give me, darlin’.”

The more that you say

The less I know

Wherever you stray

I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

“And that’s why you shouldn’t trust the Granny Smith apples at Katrina’s stand?” Jefferson smirked, biting into a fresh Granny Smith apple not from Katrina.

“That is not what I said,” Y/N admonished with a grin of her own. “I simply stated that one time I went and there was a worm in the apple I bought! Just being anecdotal today, s’all.”

“I don’t know, darlin’, if I didn’t know any better I’d say that you’re still salty about that experience.” He grinned at how she huffed. “Tell that to the town and that woman is going out of business.”

It had been a few months since he’d woken up in that wispy, sunlight living room of hers. It had been a long few months.

Not because of the frozen time loop they were stuck in, and not because he didn’t enjoy his time with her. It was because he enjoyed it far too much. He’d forgotten what it felt like to fall in love. The last person he’d fallen in love with was his Grace, his baby, and she was gone. A deep guilt settled in his gut when he thought about how hard he’d fallen for Y/N and at what cost he’d met her for. To him it seemed like some awful trade, that his daughter got taken away but then a gorgeous, kind, sweet woman had walked into his life and taken his heart.

He had a feeling he couldn’t move on. Occasionally he wondered if anyone else felt that way, knowing that they were taken from their own families as well, but he brushed it off. The last time he’d tried to ask a patron of the bar he’d nearly gotten a black eye for the mere insinuation.

But Y/N was something else. She understood him because she was trapped. She’d never been in Storybrooke before the storm, she’d only meant to drive through before her world was turned upside down. And after three long years, she’d come to some satisfaction in the life she’d made. So why couldn’t he?

“You’re overthinking something,” she noted, munching on her cinnamon roll. Steam rolled off it in the cool spring air, the scent intoxicatingly sweet as her voice. “What is it?”

“I just don’t understand how you do it,” Jefferson sighed, snatching the pastry out of her fingers. She squawked at his rude intrusion, but still focused on him with her whole being. She knew what he had lost. He’d explained it over lemon pancakes at her house that very first morning, how his wife had died and how his daughter wasn’t his anymore. Y/N had clung on to his every word like a lifeline and comforted him with her baking and her sweet-slick words, easily falling into a simple friendship that had recently developed into something more. “We both lost so much, you’re stuck here with no previous knowledge of what magic truly underlies this town we live in, yet you're the most sane person I know. You’re not under any spell like the rest of them, you’re like me. But you-”

“But I nothing, my darling Hatter,” the woman shushed him, patting his arm and stealing her breakfast back. “It’s a mere matter of circumstance, Jefferson. I got stuck here due to my own stupidity, who was I to be driving in a storm? My family is going on without me and, yeah, it hurts knowing that I may never see them again.”

Her eyes began to ache as she truly thought about her mom and dad and little sister, back home for God knows how long, wondering what happened to her arrival back at their house. “I think I’ve learned to move on with my life. You’ve helped immensely in that.” She shot him a quick grin, wiping off the remaining frosting from her fingers before intertwining them with his.

Jefferson nearly jumped at the contact, the way her soft fingers soothed his scarred ones so delicately. Y/N was an affectionate one, always laying her head against his back when they stood in line for the grocery mart together or leaning on him when they would knit together in the late night, but it was intimate when she held his hand.

Though they’d never dared cross the line, when she held his hand and looked at him with her large, adoring eyes, he could imagine a world where she loved him. One where he wasn’t a piece of shit or hurting and one where she had never seen him drink himself into oblivion, acting like a sad fool. But that could never happen here. Not now. He couldn’t allow it with his kind of baggage.

He gulped before adjusting the hat on his head and subtly pulling her closer to him. Her body did always run warm, and in the colder spring air he was basically using her as a furnace. At least that was his excuse for holding her close. “Did I really help you, darling?”

She squeezed his hand twice, glancing up to him with the most dead serious expression he'd ever seen her wear. “More than anything else, honey, you eased the ache. You make my life better. You make me better.”

He wanted to tell her the same. That because of her he felt hope. That with nothing but one of her small grins he was sent spiraling into a chasm of her love and care, something he hadn’t felt in so long. It felt good to be around her. She was intoxicating and she didn’t even know it. She made him want to be better. For himself and for her. With her help, he’d stopped drinking so much. He knew his Grace would be thankful for that. And he thought sometimes, in the dead of night and only for small moments, he allowed himself to think that if he ever got his daughter back, that she would adore Y/N more than anything else in the world. In one where she loved him too. And he could have a family again.

But he had scars. Too many littering his hands and his neck and his memory and mind. Just enough to scar her himself.

So he drew the line again.

“Just glad to help,” he offered with a pained smile.

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in

As if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or a champion ring

And there was one prize I'd cheat to win

Y/N’s toes were warming by the fire as she lay outstretched on the newly rearranged couch. Jefferson had come over the weekend before to help her redecorate for the oncoming winter, and she had a hard time believing that it had been nearly a year since she had first sat next to him at the Rabbit’s hole. The week next would make it their official anniversary. November 14.

She could hardly wait. She had everything planned out, with a picnic in the morning first by the lake, then boating around it in a small gondola-like thing she’d found abandoned in the woods a bit off from her house. November would make for the perfect season, with the chilly air and warm jumpers she could wear now that it was no longer swelteringly sunny.

The time loop now longer seemed like a curse to her. No, it seemed like a blessing. Because in an outstretched time, she’d been allowed to fall in love with Jefferson. Her Hatter. There was truly no one like him.

Two knocks sounded at the door and she looked up. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but Jefferson also did enjoy showing up at her house unexpectedly with little gifts of his own. She especially enjoyed it when he brought some mushroom soup with the savory vegetables he found around his mansion.

“‘M coming!” She shouted towards the door. Her knit sweater had gotten all tangled with the strings of her apron and she grunted as struggled to separate the fabrics before she went to get up. With nimble fingers she tangled out the knots in her hair, realizing that she’d been sitting and reading the whole afternoon and into the night without once checking her appearance.

Y/N slid in her socks over the hardwood floors, grinning at the mere thought of seeing his devilishly handsome face again. But when she opened the door, she came face to face with her Hatter, eyes red and blurry and spit-slicked lips, an expression similar to the first time she’d met him in the bar. A breeze came in behind him and she saw a rainfall brewing too, the trees bending this way and that in the harsh winds. She urgently ushered him inside, grabbing his cold hands with her warm ones and dragging him in the heated house. His tartan cloak was dripping in water, but he seemed to be unfazed by it.

“Are you okay, darling?” His eyes remained blank and unmoving, so she nodded before parting his bicep. “I’ll make you a cup of tea, you must be freezing. Just make yourself comfy.”

She quickly ran to the kitchen, grabbing a mug and filling it with hot water, chai, and just a drizzle of honey. By the time she got back he was still standing, shivering at the doorway. “Come sit down, Jefferson.”

He nodded before removing his coat, hanging it up on his designated hook that she’d carved for him. He slid his boots off right next to the door and with heavy footfalls, lumbered over to where she sat cross-legged on the right side of the cream colored cushions. With a small whisper of gratitude he took the mug from her, slumping down on the couch, his leg shaking violently as he bit his fingernails. His silver rings shone in the dim lighting of her living room, catching light on the same engravings he’d carved into them almost a decade before.

“She came up to me today,” he sniffed. “My Grace.”

Oh no. It had been a while since he’d seen her. Each time he did he had somewhat of a setback, and each time he did he thought himself to be a bit more mad. But she never did. She knew what it was like to lose the ones closest to her.

“Paige.” He snorted, a deprecating sound, and took a small sip of the chai tea. “That’s what she’s renamed now anyways, right?”

A flurry of worries tumbled around Y/N’s empty stomach. She hurt for Jefferson, felt his pain not nearly as deeply as him, but enough to make a frown pull at her lips. And though they’d been friends for so long, she still was sensitive when it came to the topic of his family though he’d been brave enough to share the story before. With timid hesitation, she gently asked, “What did she say to you?”

“She asked me why I looked so sad when I was in line at the grocery,” he chuckled sadly. “My sweet Grace. Always worrying about other people and wanting to make them happy.”

“You raised her good,” Y/N shrugged, rubbing one hand on his knee. “She may not remember you, but one day she will. This curse has to be lifted one day, it’s how all fairytales work out. They end happily ever after.”

“It’s been almost four years, Y/N, this storybook seems to have closed,” he shook his head, “so it confuses me as to why you're still here, Y/N.”

She was taken aback by the harshness of his words. “What do you mean, darling?” One of her arms tried to wrap around his neck, but he pulled away from her touch, which hurt him almost as much as it did her.

“Aren’t you sick of me? Sick of this?” He gestured at his reddened, tired eyes and scrambled appearance. “Aren't I subjecting you to a friendship of humiliation?”

“No,” she answered coolly. “And it hurts me that you think about yourself in that way, ‘cause it’s certainly not how I see you.”

“And how do you see me, Y/N?” He laughed sadly, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Do you pity me too? Do you think I’m insane? Are you embarrassed when you go out in town with me? Does it tarnish your reputation, being friends with the crazy man at the edge of Storybrooke?”

“How could you ever think of yourself like that?” Y/N strongly accused. “You-you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve known in my life,” she offered quietly. His head lifted up to see her saddened eyes, readjusting herself to her knees and pulling herself closer to him. This time he didn’t back away from her. “You’re strong and you protect me and you’re sweeter than strawberry jam, though you deny it constantly. I know that when you knit me sweaters I enjoy the feel of the fabric against my skin because it reminds me of you. You’ve lost your love before and that doesn’t make you insane. Feeling that,” she placed one of his hands over his chest, right above his pounding heart, “doesn’t make you crazy.”

“My darling, I would follow you to the deepest spots of your mind,” she gave him a small grin, pushing sweaty curls of hair back from his face, “to the tallest, snowiest mountain that you will yourself to climb because I love you, Jefferson.”

He nearly choked on his own breath. She did? Of all the kindest, most pure souls, he never meant to taint hers. If she loved him it meant that he had sucked her into his greed and affection for her, something he had never meant for. “You don’t love me, Y/N,” he argued faintly, but with each stroke of her nimble fingers, he was already losing himself in her love. “You can’t love me, it’s not good for you.”

“You’re good for me, honey,” Y/N straddled him, her skirt rising to stretch around her knees as she did so. “Jefferson, I’ll take your bad days,” her fingers rubbed circles into his cheekbones, “and your happy ones. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. I’ll take your moments like these and I know that when my days come, you’ll take care of me the same. Because I think that you love me too, darling.”

His heart beat wildly as he stared at her with wide, torn eyes. For the first time in years, he was wide awake. Every part of him buzzed with anticipation, waiting to see if he’d finally let himself love her with no limits. Because he trusted herself with every fiber of his being, there wasn’t a cell of him that didn’t believe her wisdom when it came down to the subject of love. She was, after all, the queen of his heart. And he did love her. More than she’d ever be able to account for.

So he let himself fall, jumping across the rushing river he was so scared to cross before, with all the hope that she’d catch him on the other side.

“I promise,” his hands shook as he held her, as if she would vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. As if the whole moment had been a harsh, cruel figment of his imagination. “I will spend every moment making you happy, giving you everything you need. I’m yours for the rest of our lives, okay?”

“You don’t need to promise me anything,” she shook her head, love and adoration fueling the tears that rose to her eyes. Her heart felt full, stuffed to the brim with the warmth his care brought her. “I just need you.”

The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray I follow

Begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

That's my man

You know that my train could take you home

Anywhere else is hollow

Begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans

Y/N’s hands shook as she cupped Jefferson’s face, thumbs brushing tears off of his cheek. His breath came out shuddering, but even with his sniffly nose and small frown, she still thought he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Her lips trailed over every part of his face, pressing gentle kisses to his eyelids and temples before she came to his lips, her eyes begging for permission as his warm breath fanned over her face. “Will you let me take care of you?”

His face broke out into a small grin as he nodded, and he brought her lips down to his, relishing in the feel of her lips soothing his. Salty tears were caught between their skin and he whimpered into her mouth when her tongue slipped past his lips. He didn’t know if she could hear it- his heart pounding erratically in his chest or the way his head screamed I love you- but he tried his best to show it as he moved his lips against hers languidly.

“Please,” he whimpered against her lips. That was all Y/N needed to hear, placing a knee on either side of his lap and slowly rolling down into his hips once, twice, and- oh, she could feel him pressing up into her core through the pants he wore. A smirk played over her lips as she did it again, and this time he slipped his hand under her skirt to the underwear she wore, fingers dragging precariously close to where her cunt was soaking her cotton panties.

Slowly he lowered the material down her legs, and both of them laughed when he couldn't get it out from under her knees. “I’ll get it, baby,” she chuckled softly.

His heart clenched with joy at the new pet name he had been gifted, and watched in adoration as Y/N stripped herself bare to him. Her body, with all its curves and marks and dips, made his heart beat faster, if even possible at that point, watching as her chest rose and fell in front of him.

“You’re gorgeous, bunny.” As she settled back onto her lap, she had to stop herself from moaning aloud at the feeling of his black jeans rubbing against her clit.

Her fingers trailed over his chest and up to the scarf he always wore, feeling a little seed of excitement begin to sprout before-

Wait.

Hitched breath. Opal eyes wide with what looked like fear as he stared at the opposing digits that threatened to expose him. An air of tension and a sudden rush of cool against her body made the hairs on her neck stand up, and immediately she stopped her movements

“My love?” Y/N questioned gently. “Can I take your scarf off?”

Oh, he could never say no to her. Jefferson sent a small smile her way, picking up one of her hands and laying a gentle kiss on each of her fingers. It wasn’t much and not a word left his mouth, but his message was clear enough. I trust you. That made her smile giddily, and she pressed their lips together messily once again as she undid the patterned silk, each tug one step closer to revealing skin that he had been so scared to show before.

She’d always been curious as to what his scar looked like after learning of his time in Wonderland, and when she saw the thin line of raised flesh around the circumference of his neck, tears rose to her eyes. She could nearly damn hear the way the beat of Jefferson’s heart sped up as she ghosted her lips over the scar, kissing up the column of his throat until- God, she knew she had hit the spot when he whimpered and unconsciously bucked his clothed hips into her bare cunt.

He could feel her wetness through his jeans, could smell how much she needed him, and he was not going to be the one to deny her that because he needed her just as bad.

“You wanna take my clothes off, bunny?” Jefferson asked quietly.

The process of undressing him was a tedious one to say the very least, with his four layers of shirts (“Yes, baby, I need all of them, it ties the outfit together,” is what he had once argued) and the skin tight jeans, which Y/N wasn’t upset about in the slightest.

Their love wasn’t serious. Well, for the love they held for each other, yes, that was serious, but the love itself was not. Though they’d never been together in such intimacy before, Y/N and Jefferson felt completely at ease in each other’s embrace. She giggled at the way he huffed when she tried to shimmy his pants off his legs, and revelled in the way his breathing seemed to halt with every button she undid over his chest. Their love was silly, it was full of Jefferson’s groaning complaints about how long it took to take off his clothes and Y/N shutting him up with kisses to his collarbone.

She finally managed to rid him of all his clothes, nearly scrambling back onto his lap with fervent need. Jefferson chuckled at her readiness but he really couldn’t make fun of her either with his dick, hot and heavy and poking at the inside of her thigh. Precome smeared onto her soft skin and both of them moaned at the little contact, aching for more than just a light touch.

However, the sounds he made as she hovered her entrance over his dick were absolutely sinful, a choked groan amongst the tears he was shedding, because she felt so warm and God, she was just dripping all for him. Her wetness squelched against his cock when she finally lowered herself onto him, and Jefferson decided then and there that there was no better feeling than having her wrapped around his cock.

“Jesus,” he moaned lowly. Beads of sweat already started to form along his forehead and the euphoria that washed over him brought more tears to his eyes. His brain felt like cranberry pudding, all mushy and gooey and filled with some sort of addictive feeling because he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of it.

“You feel so good inside me, baby,” Y/N purred, “can I have you like this forever?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

That broke something feral and loose inside of him.

Jefferson’s hips snapped upwards sharply, the head of his cock hitting her G-spot on the first try and knocking the wind out of her lungs. Her legs trembled and she fell forwards onto his chest for support, arms shakily holding herself up on the back of the couch. “Oh, shit, you’re so deep.”

“Am I.. am I hurting you, darlin’?” He asked warily. His body sat rigid on the couch, afraid of even scarring her body in the slightest.

She shook her head, pulling herself closer to his chest with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her hips slowly rolled over his, making him whimper and tremble under her soft ministrations. “You could never hurt me, honey,” she pressed her lips to his, breathing his woodsy smell in as deeply as she could, whispering her words of adoration into his mouth. “You’re my love, my heart, my man. I trust you with every bone in my body. Do you?”

“You’re the only person I do trust.”

“Then trust me when I say that I want you,” she began to steadily push herself down further on his cock, until she could feel his heavy sac resting right beneath her wet cunt, “deeper.”

Jefferson whined at her lewd words, but obliged to them too. He wasn’t one to deny his bunny of his pleasure. Especially when she looked so innocent spread out across his lap.

“Take what you want, bunny,” he began to help her up again before slamming her back down on his girthy cock. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Y/N nodded vigorously and got to work, pressing her breasts into his face and sliding up so the very tip of his dick was in her. She held herself there for a moment, relishing in his bated breath and how he held his objection in so obediently, then twisted her hips so she swiveled back down.

Her knees moved the couch as she continuously grew more confident in her movements. And Jefferson, he was in awe of her body, how she flowed with a certain rhythm and made him feel like it was his very first time again. His chin rested against her sternum while she rode him sensually, his glossy blues staring up at her thrown back head as she lost herself in pure pleasure. It was only for a moment that she peered down at him as she bounced on his lap, watching as his mouth dropped and eyes then rolled back into his head every time she sheathed herself all the way in. He was nearly pleading with his whiny words, “Faster, Jesus, f-faster please, bunny.”

Maybe she was a bit too happy to do so, and as her hips sped up, both of them let out completely debauched moans. Y/N was delirious on pleasure, even more so when Jefferson trailed his hands to her ass, kneading the flesh gently before he left open-mouthed kisses up her stomach, her sternum, finally to her nipple and wrapping his lips around it. The whimper she let out filled him with pride, for making her feel this way, and he caressed her skin with his tongue, flicking over the pebbled bud and tugging it between his teeth.

One hand, he didn’t know or care which one it was, separated their hips in the slightest as he found her center, the rough pads on his fingers rubbing against her clit and creating the most delicious friction.

“Jefferson, you’re-” she choked on her words, eyesight getting blurry until all she could hear was their heavy breathing. “You feel so good, baby, you feel so good.”

His lips moved to her other breast and he murmured against her skin, words coming out in slow pants. “Are you close, bunny? Wanna come with me?”

She really wasn’t able to give an answer, but from her high-pitched whimpers and the way her walls clenched around his cock he could tell she was bordering the edge of release. Her hips rocked faster, her labored breaths hurrying as both of them chased their orgasms in desperation. “I’m not gonna be able to hold out much longer, bunny- shit, you feel so good wrapped around me.

Y/N could barely focus on his words, only trying to control her own breathing as white dots danced along her vision. Slowly she was losing power over her own body, feeling her legs tremble against his warm skin as she brought herself closer to release. “Baby, baby, I-” she sloppily pressed her lips to his again, open-mouthed and heavy as her legs began to give out. “You wanna come, baby? Go ahead, fill me up, darlin’.”

“Mhm-” he grunted, grasping her skin. He was only seconds from combusting into flames, and when Y/N’s soft voice carried him away, he drove his hips into her a final time and came with stuttering groans. “Fuck, I’m coming, pretty girl.”

White hot cum spurted out of his twitching head into her walls, spurring on her own orgasm. Her vision became a blank space as she mindlessly whined into his mouth, vigorously trying to rub her clit even faster against his fingers.

“That’s it, bunny, make yourself feel real good,” his voice was deep and guttural, exhausted after coming hard into her tight cunt. He continued to methodically pad over her sensitive bundle of nerves until she sighed, letting him know that she was coming down.

The gyrating, seductive rolls of her hips over his slowed down as her eyesight and hearing kicked back in, until her rushing blood in her ears was replaced by the angelic symphony of her and Jefferson’s mingled breaths.

“Hey,” she grinned against him, pushing herself up from his softening cock. He winced when he pulled out of her but relaxed as she brushed her palm against his sweaty forehead, allowing hers to come rest upon it.

“Hey yourself,” he chided back playfully. Their noses nudged each other and nothing he did could fight off the smile he wore against hers. He had finally found bliss with her. “God, you’re pretty.”

“You are too,” she agreed. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her elbows bending to allow her play with the curls of his chestnut hair. While her cunt remained dripping with his come, her intimate bubble of peace with her love didn’t allow her to care about cleaning up. “You, my darling Hatter,” she quickly kissed him, letting the taste of him linger in her mouth for one more moment before speaking again, “you make me happier than anything in the world.”

His arms wrapped around her, clutching her as tight in his grasp as he could like a lifevest keeping him afloat. As long as he had her, he was alive. He was loved. That's all he needed. With her, he learned to survive with their blossoming love.

“I love you, my darling Y/N.”

She knew everything would be alright with him. And everything would be alright with her. Because he saved her and she saved him, and in a time where frost laid the clock stuck around them, they had all the time and love in Storybrooke to themselves.

That's my man

#jefferson x reader #ouat jefferson #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #once upon a time #jefferson smut #jefferson hatter #𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 #𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞: 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 #jefferson hatter x reader

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demonsandmischief · 3 years

Text

His Beloved Ch. 1

A Sebastian Stan Multi-Part Story

Vampire Sebastian Stan x Female OC,

760 words

-Chapter 1-

Meeting him was an accident, or so she thought.

----

New York City was loud. That had been Lila's consistent thought since she had moved to the city a year ago. She had a great job as a partner in a veterinarian clinic, but Lila had begun to develop a longing for something more.

How could she possibly want more when she was living her dream? She didn't know, and she had yet to be successful at burying the feeling for good.

After a long day of appointments and barking dogs, Lila didn't feel up for eating a meal at home. She loved to cook, but today was not one of those days. She decided to order some take-out that was only a few blocks from her apartment, that way she could just pick it up on the way home.

The small restaurant was packed with hungry customers, and Lila was grateful she had called ahead. She couldn't wait to get home and take off her shoes. It had been a hectic week, and it had taken Friday a long time to come around.

She paid for her meal with cash, the nonstop chatter only exhausting her further. She could hardly hear the lady talking to her.

Lila was happy to leave the place. There was only so much energy she could give to the world before she had to recharge.

"Excuse me, miss!" Someone called out to her.

Lila spun around to find a tall, handsome man. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"I was on my way out and I saw you drop this," he said, holding out a five dollar bill.

She furrowed her brows. She didn't remember dropping anything. "Are you sure it was me?"

He chuckled lowly, the sound was rich and warm. "Well, yeah. I'm positive it was you."

"Oh, thank you then," Lila said, taking the bill from his hand, their fingers brushing slightly. She gasped at the contact, a strange tingly sensation fizzing through her body.

"You're welcome. Have a good night," he said, before walking down the street.

Lila shook off the weird encounter. She must be really tired to not have noticed dropping money like that. Who did he look like? He reminded her of someone.

She shook away the thoughts before finishing her walk home, not noticing the protective shadow that followed her.

It wasn't until later that she realized how big of an idiot she was. She had run into the Sebastian Stan. He played Bucky in the Marvel movies. Maybe it was time to get her head checked. Maybe that's why the encounter was so strange.

It didn't matter either way. She was never going to see him again.

----

Sebastian's assumptions were correct. He could smell her tantalizing scent from inside the restaurant where he was having dinner with his friends. Of course he didn't eat, but it was nice to catch up every once and awhile.

He had to have a glimpse of her, so he left the table early, following the temptation all the way to the counter. There stood a petite girl with long brown hair and cute glasses. She shifted anxiously on her feet like she was tired of standing. He wished he could move closer to take in the details. He knew immediately, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. His Beloved.

Romania was known for its vampires. He was born there, his father a vampire himself. His mother was a human, and when his father left, the place became too dangerous for him to grow up in without any proper guidance.

He had dreamt his whole life about his soul mate. It was the only good thing about being a creature of the dark. For as long as he could remember, he had glimpses of her in his dreams. It was teasing, just a taste. Blurry images and smiles, only fueling the aggravation. He had waited patiently for this moment.

He had to think quickly about how to talk to her, and she had given him a perfect opportunity.

She didn't drop any money, but he needed an excuse to talk to her, to see her up close. She was breathtaking, with warm brown eyes and a shy demeanor that called out every protective bone in his body. She was obviously very intelligent, if the scrubs didn't give that away, but very polite, too. He never wanted the conversation to end.

Sebastian was hoping that she would recognize him and try to prolong the conversation, but this one time that wasn't the case. He didn't even get her name.

----

A/N: Thanks for all the love on my Seb Imagine. I think this one will have 4/5 chapters. What did you think? I was inspired by the interview clip where the lady asked Seb to bite her neck and he seemed to like the idea hmm

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #vampire #marvel imagine #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #vampire Sebastian Stan

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dented-nado · 3 years

Note

So a little bird told me you were taking Sebwill prompts. I thought I should take advantage of that! May I request something along the lines of SebWill superheroes/villains? Maybe they are mortal enemies by day, and lovers by night?

This is such a perfect combination of my interests, I am so damn here for it. I hope you enjoy it!

This ended up a little long, oops! Lol! I also absolutely kind of made a soup of DC hero/villain origins and mixed them together for this lol. Bonus points to anyone who can spot every one that I made a reference to! :D

==================================

Years ago, William had hid in his room after a horrible day. He was only about 15, wishing he could just fly away and leave.

Then… suddenly he found himself lying on his ceiling. It had taken him several long moments of panicking to realize he wasn’t dreaming, longer to realize he could move around as he wished.

And so… he opened his bedroom window, and left home, never to look back.

Anyone who knew him now would be shocked to find that at one point, William T. Spears who stood so straightly and kept every bit of him tidy and proper… had once been a scruffy, scrawny little teenage meta-human wandering the streets of London, getting into trouble and being chased by the authorities trying to take him into and orphanage or foster care… or worse, back home.

William had learned to live off the streets. At a certain point he had even gotten a little cocky, he was so fast that no one would even see him as he stole whatever he needed or wanted. He’d lead cops on a wild goose chase into alleyways that he knew like the back of his hand, only to float away to the rooftops out of sight.

He didn’t really make friends either. He mostly just had a small pack of birds that he split some of the spoils from his day out with when they came to the cracked window of the abandoned flat he had hid in.

He had always heard of heroes… saving the earth from threats both domestic and extra-terrestrial. Hell, he had seen one of them blast through London. On one hand he was curious, if maybe he and that super-being came from similar origins. But on another hand… he couldn’t help but resent the whole idea of heroes.

They certainly never protected kids like him.

That was the first time William had a sort of haunting thought. He had escaped because… he just happened to have these abilities that he still didn’t know the origin of… how many kids out there weren’t so lucky that weren’t being saved??

Well… maybe he could save them but, well when he looked around himself this was a fine nest for himself, but more than one person? Potentially kids even younger than him? How would he even look after them? He was 17 now… maybe he could pass as 18 if he cleaned up a bit, then maybe if he had enough money by then he could buy a better place and own it himself. How much did houses cost? It couldn’t be that much if lots of adults had them right?

He’d start stealing things to sell, he decided. He could get away with it, surely.

Well, his plan had fallen short, when he had been caught, stealing the tires off a rather fancy car since he was sure he could sell them for quite a bit.

The presumed owner of said car seemed oddly amused and calm at a scraggly un-kempt seventeen-year old stealing the tires of her car.

It was then another person came around the corner rambling on her phone, she seemed almost the same age as William, though maybe a little younger. She stared at William and who William now supposed was this young lady’s mother.

William decided now was the time to up up and away out of there, only suddenly, in a red blur, the young girl had jumped up and pulled him back down, she was fast… almost as fast as him.

“Excuse you! You can’t just steal our tires and go!” She scolded.

William had tried to escape, he’d found it easy to lift incredibly heavy objects including cars above his head, but now he couldn’t seem to pull her arms off him.

“Let me go!” He demanded.

“Now young man…” The girl’s mother said patiently. “How about you land yourself right back down on the ground and we can see about helping you out so you aren’t out here on the streets stealing tires.”

William glowered distrustfully, still thrashing in frustration as the young redheaded girl pulled him back down to the ground.

“If you haven’t noticed… we’re like you. We can help you… if you replace the tires and calm down.”

William had bit his lip. He didn’t trust this strange red-headed mother and daughter pair but then again… maybe… it would be nice to meet other people like him.

Begrudgingly he had put the tires back on quickly, and hesitantly sat in the back seat of the vehicle beside said girl who had been grinning at him since she had pulled him down to the ground.

“I’m Grell, what’s your name boy?”

William stared at her like she had grown horns for a moment before finally answering, realizing he hadn’t said his own name in a while.

“William.”

“William… you’d be rather handsome if you cleaned up a bit.” She teased with a small giggle.

It was that decision that led him to where he was now. It turned out he had been picked up and adopted by a very, very wealthy family that practically owned half the city. He learned he was a meta-human, and certain supernatural genetics had caused his abilities to develop. While he had flight and a decent amount of strength down, he eventually found his most key ability was telekinesis, allowing him to move around almost anything with solid mass with his mind.

Grell seemed to have both flight and strength as he did, but she also was far faster than him and caused fire to ignite out of thin air. It suited her red hair and personality perfectly in his mind.

Grell and him also saw rather eye to eye on using their meta-human abilities to give more attention to the people trapped in bad homes that needed saving and she became a pseudo-sister to him. He found out her mother had taken Grell when she was only 9 years old and run away with her in the middle of the night. Running far away from the father who had treated them both poorly. Then, Grell’s mother had been lucky enough to find love, not even knowing she was going to be marrying into a vast amount of money, but that had certainly been a nice bonus.

Outwardly of course, they were both celebrities of sorts, especially when they turned 18, they became public figures. Grell flourished happily in the spotlight. William on the other hand… could handle being polite and interacting with others at important events, but he really did hate all the attention – he was relieved when… at night, him and Grell would dawn garments to hide their well known identities, and would do the vigilante style work of trying to find and save kids from bad situations, feed those who needed it, and punch a few robbers and other criminals on the way if it served them.

William did sort of understand the superhero dilemma more now. It seemed as if something was always happening that would distract from the “smaller” work. He had been more than frustrated when a man… no…a demon it seemed that controlled and moved through the shadows decided to make William his arch nemesis. There was no clue to who this man causing chaos could be. His entire face was covered, not only making it seem as if he had no facial features, but it also made William wonder if there was a man under there how he saw or breathed with that thing on. It was also clear when this villain spoke he had some sort of voice filter on that scrambled the tone of his voice, causing it to sound garbled and off-putting.

His only solace between the stress of his daytime persona, and his ‘night job’ – was the boyfriend he had managed to be with despite at all. Sebastian Michaelis. They had met at a gala, and despite himself, after one dance, William could already feel himself being swept off his feet by the raven-haired man with a mischievous glint in his eyes. And so… after that, he had made a point to see him. Grell had teased him that he was absolutely head over heels for the gothic man that stuck out like a sore thumb against the light colors most of the people at gatherings tend to wear. Sebastian was dashing in his own right… and well, William had been called “Goth lite” by Grell as well as their mutual friend Ronald Knox. So they had something in common.

It wasn’t long before William had to admit he was head over heels for Sebastian, and they had begun their romantic outings. Of course their relationship eventually got media attention, they couldn’t go on dates for long without someone recognizing them. Somehow though, while it seemed Sebastian was also someone who reveled in the spotlight much more than William, the way Sebastian would hold him or rub his back soothingly made him feel more confident in handling such attention.

After about a year and a half of dates and nights spent together, William officially asked Sebastian to stay with him in his apartment. It was more of a condo than an apartment, but William didn’t like that word much. It was one of the properties that had been gifted to him that hadn’t been turned into a high-quality rescue shelter for children.

William… hadn’t told him about his night life yet, and Sebastian always seemed to take his word for it. It wasn’t he didn’t trust Sebastian, in fact he was beginning to feel as if he’d do just about everything for this man. Yet… well, vigilante-ing was dangerous business, even if you could fly and move things with your mind. He swore he’d tell Sebastian about his night life well before they got married.

But for now… he enjoyed moments like this, laying on top of him while they slept, ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for comfort. Sebastian would often run his hand through William’s hair, effectively petting him until the stern man slept. He didn’t want these quiet, comforting moments to ever end….

…and he’d be damned if he let any sort of super-villain or threat come between them.

#sebawill #sebwill #au #hero au #villain au #hero x villain au #prompt fill #writing prompt fill #sebastian x william #black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #william t spears #tw #tw for past abuse mention #no detailed descriptions or flashbacks though.

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rosyredlipstick · 4 years

Text

conchell farmers market AU

i went to a farmers market last weekend. thank u rina for looking this over!

The wind was cool, the birds were chirping, and Sebastian was yet again attempting to sneak off with the honey boy.

“It’s legally required that I receive a break, Mitchell. And what I do on my government-mandated fifteen minutes off is frankly none of your business.”

He was just barely resisting the urge to pinch at his nose. “Sebastian, the day that you actually manage to keep your business your business is that day hell freezes over. All I’m asking is that when you lure Basil away, you don’t bring him back here so you guys can try and make out behind the curtains. No one wants that!”

Sebastian busied himself with ignoring Mitchell and looking over their main table of pre-packaged chocolate truffles. He picked one up, looked it over, and set it back down.

Mitchell rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair with a sigh. “Also, I’m pretty sure Mother would frown on you trading her chocolate away just so you could flirt with some guy.”

Sebastian was still examining the numerous paper boxes. “She’d more than approve if she saw the honey guy.”

Their apartment pantry was already so, so incredibly full of small glass pots. “Please,” Mitchell said with pain. “Just give him the chocolate for free. We don’t need to keep buying out the farmer’s market.”

Sebastian snorted, “That’s ironic for you to say.”

Mitchell cocked his head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Our kitchen currently has like, 3 different kinds of melon on the counter. And don’t get me started on the apple situation.”

“And? We eat a lot of fruit.”

Sebastian gave him a dull look. “Whatever, Mitch,” He picked up a box, gave it a glance, and apparently found it exceptional enough. “Be back in fifteen, dork.”

“At least go talk to Silena!” Mitchell sighed and watched, only half-worried, as Seb wandered across the curved road to stop at the honey stand, where Basil and Sage were set up. Seb always swore it wasn’t even an ounce serious for either of them, but Mitchell kept his eyes on the situation.

He busied himself with straightening up the boxes and making sure the cooler cases were still cold enough to prevent melting. One customer later (who bought an array of white chocolate mint truffles), and Mitchell’s customer grin thawed out into something a lot more genuine. “Connor!” Mitchell waved at the other man as he approached. “It was getting late, I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

“Hey,” Connor was breathless, probably from his jog over here. “I - I mean, I couldn’t not stop by. My favorite booth here.”

Behind him, Katie and Grover’s veggie stand had a line wrapped around several booths. Leo, manning a vegan taco booth that said line looped around, was joyfully handing off cartons and cartons of tacos to waiting vegetable customers.

Connor waved off the huge line without a worry. “Katie said I could take a break. Travis is there anyway.”

Mitchell smiled up at him. “Got anything good for me?”

“Fresh watermelon!” Connor said quickly. “It’s really sweet! I can get you one? Or two, I mean, however many you want! No worries, I’ll cover the costs -”

“I’d love a watermelon,” Mitchell smiled. “Just one, though. And I’d be happy to pay.”

“Of course,” He breathed out. “Anything for you.”

Mitchell huffed out a laugh.“How’d your mom like the last batch? I know you were iffy on the cinnamon coconut ones.”

“Loved them, of course.” Connor sighed dreamily, gazing up at Mitchell. “She always loves what you give her.”

Mitchell smiled at his folded hands for a moment, then looked back up to him. “That’s always nice to hear. So what can I do for you?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Um, actually I’m not here to get her some chocolate.”

Mitchell gave him a little surprised laugh. “Really? That’s the first time in weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor laughed awkwardly, “Yeah. So. I’m here for something else. Um. I want to ask you -” He cut himself off and stared down at Mitchell, who was waiting patiently. Mitchell nodded for him to go on, curious. Connor let out a dejected breath and leaned against the side of the booth. “On second thought, I was wondering if you’d just get me a large variety box.”

Mitchell stood with a small smile. “Of course. Anything special?”

Connor made a gesture of frustration at the air, looking more directed at himself. “Just - anything! Thank you!

Mitchell hummed as he began packaging up a box. “Got a hot date?”

“Ha,” Connor let out a much-too-loud laugh. He rubbed the back of his head. “Nope! No dates! Because I’m single. Ha. So very single.”

“God, same,” Mitchell laughed softly. He finished up packaging the chocolates and set it between them, not reaching for the money box just yet. Connor always liked to linger and chat, not that Mitchell minded.

Connor’s jeans were dusted in dirt and soaked the bottom with mud. It was a good look on him--farmer’s tan and all. Mitchell smiled. “Katie keeping you busy?”

Connor looked over his shoulder, almost checking the other girl wasn’t there, then back to Mitchell with a look of exhaustion. “She had us up at 5 a.m. because she needed help with some last-minute washing and separating. I’m ready to fall over and it’s hardly passed noon.”

“You’re tired?” Connor nodded, showing it. Mitchell perked up with a quick “Oh!” and spun around to reach for one of their newer products and pulled one out. “You know that collaboration with Nico we were considering?” He plated the treat with a flourish. “Here’s the first batch! Some fresh coffee chocolates, he’s selling some at his booth too! I think we might try some different combinations next week. He wants to try an espresso one?” He rolled forward on his toes excitedly. “I think it’s going to turn out well!”

Connor lit up with excitement with him. “That’s great! God, I know how nervous you were about the testing phase.”

Mitchell nodded with a wide grin. For a moment, Connor almost looked starstruck. An idea occurred to him, as Connor stepped forward.

“Here, try this.” He held the plate out of Connor’s reach. “So you can have the whole experience.” Mitchell gestured for him to lean forward. Connor did so automatically. “Close your eyes,” Mitchell instructed, “and open your mouth.”

Connor’s gaze snapped to Mitchell’s, wide-eyed.

“It’s the experience!” Mitchell grinned. “C’mon, try it.”

Connor licked his lips but slowly nodded, looking breathless. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, his elbows on the stall.

Mitchell spooned a chocolate into Connor’s waiting mouth. He took it and chewed slowly, his eyes still fluttered shut.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Mitchell asked, “You just really focus on the taste that way.”

A soft pink bloomed across Connor’s cheeks. He continued to chew, staring at Mitchell with wide-eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed out, swaying slightly. “You… amazing.”

“I knew you’d like it.” Mitchell smiled, a bit satisfied. “Coffee chocolates, isn’t that fun?”

“So fun,” Connor whispered.

Mitchell was about to add on something else about their new flavors when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother returning to the stall. With a companion. Mitchell sighed.

Sebastian finished wandering back over to the stall, Basil tucked under his arm like he needed assistance back to their booth. Unfortunately, Mitchell could already spy a handful of reddening marks on both of their necks.

“Hey honey boy,” Mitchell greeted wryly. Connor snapped his neck to look where Mitchell was speaking.

“Oh, you flatter me, Mitch.” Basil stuck out his purple tongue, most likely dyed from one of Will’s snowcones. Before Mitchell could respond, Basil turned his face upward and grabbed Sebastian’s chin to push their lips together. Mitchell sighed hugely and looked away, rolling his eyes at Connor.

Basil swept by with a teasing grin, winking at him. “See you, Mitch. Hi Connor.”

Sebastian tied his apron back on and waved off his not-boyfriend. “Oh, Connor. What a surprise it is to see you here, speaking to Mitchell.”

Mitchell shook his head and ignored that. “We’re not running a kissing booth, Sebastian. You don’t need to bring Basil around every week.”

Seb rolled his eyes. “If this was a kissing booth, we’d be making a lot more than chocolate money. Am I right, Connor?”

Connor’s face turned a dark red--he must be getting too much sun.

“Oh, leave him alone. Did you at least talk to Silena while you were off?”

He gestured over his shoulder. “Tried, but she and Scarlett were too invested in the teen drama happening across the line. Clarisse is basically manning the strawberry stand herself at this point.”

Mitchell followed his gesture, already knowing. Their siblings had become quite invested in the most recent pre-romance happening every Saturday morning. At the booth across from their chocolate stall, Percy was currently handing out some blue soft-serve cones to kids while his mother smiled widely at her own dazed-looking customer. Their candy and ice cream booth had been Mitchell and Sebastian’s biggest competition, but Sally Jackson was too beautiful and delightful to keep rivals with. Now, they traded variety boxes of their new and most popular from that week--their own mother was suitably impressed.

Annabeth’s booth, next to Percy and Sally’s, had its own array of curious customers peering down at her homemade journals and secondhand books. Usually, Percy and Annabeth spent every farmer’s market morning making much too much noise bickering and laughing while everyone else set up. Mitchell was personally two weeks away from shoving them both into Nico’s portable walk-in cooler and locking the door until they admitted their feelings.

Mitchell groaned and wiped his face, back to the moment. “We need to talk to her some time today if we want to do chocolate-covered strawberries for the craft fair this Thursday.”

Sebastian paused, then winced. “Wait… the craft fair is on Thursday? This Thursday?”

Mitchell already knew where he was going with this. He ran a hand over his face in frustration. “Sebastian, the senior choir is going to be there! You know how busy we get, I’ve already scheduled for an extra batch of the sugar-free dark chocolate truffles, I can’t run it on my own!”

“I thought it was next Thursday!”

“I texted you three times about it.”

“Well, I can’t cancel my date, she’ll never go out with me again -”

“I can’t run it on my own! Seb, I can’t believe -”

“I can help.”

Mitchell paused where he was about to ramp up into a new point and turned slowly to face the other man, who he briefly forgot was there. “What?”

Connor shifted his weight, “I can help, if you need it. It’s the craft fair on Beech street, right?” Mitchell nodded slowly. “Yeah, Travis and Katie are gonna have a mini fresh juice booth. Nothing big, but I was gonna tag along. Um, so I’ll already be there. And can help.”

“See!” Sebastian gestured toward him. “Works out great!”

Mitchell shot him a dirty look but faced Connor, so grateful he could taste it. “I could kiss you,” Mitchell shook his head, his shoulders loose in absolute relief. “I’ll pay you, of course -”

Connor was back to that bright red. “Oh, don’t, seriously -”

“I insist -”

“Really, you don’t have to, I’m happy to help -”

“This is horrible,” Sebastian muttered. “This is fucking torture.”

Mitchell spun to face him, his finger already out in warning. “You! Don’t think I’m not still upset with you!”

Sebastian only flipped him off with a sarcastic grin, taking his seat. Mitchell prayed for strength. Finally, he turned back to Connor with a much more relieved and pleased expression than the one he was giving Sebastian. Connor perked up at the attention. Mitchell smiled at that.

“Thank you again for volunteering.” He held out his hand. “Arm?”

Connor held out his arm without hesitation, then looked confused. “Why am I doing this?” He asked, his arm still extended.

Mitchell grabbed his wrist to pull it steady. “We’re out of receipt paper.” Mitchell uncapped the sharpie with his teeth and wrote out his phone number in straight, even lines across Connor’s skin. He finished it off with a small heart and a -M.

“Text me,” Mitchell took a moment to smile, “we can work out the details later. Maybe go to breakfast before the fair?”

“Yes,” Connor was saying the word before Mitchell was even finished speaking. Mitchell’s lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“Great. Don’t lose that now.” Mitchell nodded down to his wrist.

Connor’s face went much, much too serious. “I won’t,” He said gravely, like he was accepting a mission. His other hand clenched at his own wrist. Mitchell waved him off kindly as he began stumbling back to his booth, dazed.

Sebastian popped a stick of gum in and quickly blew a bubble. “You know,” he set his boots on the table edge, “you could have just grabbed some receipt paper.”

Mitchell hummed, knocked Seb’s boots off the table, and took his seat. “Weird. Didn’t think of that.”

Sebastian laughed, “I thought you were being too oblivious to notice anything, what happened to that?”

He sighed. “There’s only so much chocolate that man can buy from us, Sebastian. I don’t even think he likes chocolate that much.”

“So? Free tips.”

Mitchell’s eyes snapped to the small plastic “TIPS” jar they had by the spare reader, put there on Sebastian’s insistence. Connor was the only person who ever utilized it, usually by several rolled twenties shoved in haphazardly. Mitchell had insisted time and time again that Connor didn’t need to tip, but that only resulted in sneakier tips and then denying of said sneaky tips.

Mitchell reached for the jar, fully intending on shoving the twenties into Katie and Grover’s tips despite Sebastian’s complaints, when Connor made a sudden reappearance as he burst back into their line of sight, heaving for breath with a watermelon clenched to his chest. Behind him, Katie could be heard yelling at him from their own booth.

Connor stepped forward and help the melon up like a prize. “I didn’t forget your watermelon!”

#conchell #connor stoll #mitchell #farmers market au

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twoblueheartslocked · 4 years

Text

Seblaine Para- Present Day(Early February)

Para: Kiss Me On The Mouth and Set Me Free

Rating: PG-13.

Pairing: Seblaine.

Sebastian: @colorsicantsee

Blaine: @twoblueheartslocked

Time: Present Day- Early February, Friday. About one month after- (Hold Onto the Memories, They’ll Hold Onto You)

Location: Brooklyn, New York

Info: Sebastian asks Blaine to let him take him on a real date. Blaine can’t help but let his insecurities get to him. Sebastian opens up about his past and Blaine makes a little progress. The two of them get closer.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse(Physical, mental and some sexual), anxiety, depression, drug use, alcohol use, cussing, death(parents).

Extra Warnings: (This RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Notes: Some canon events remain in place while others have been changed. Some things may even be out of order. You can consider this sort of canon divergent AU. A few changes are that Blaine’s parents are different from the show (His mother is Filipina), he didn’t cheat on Kurt or date Dave and Sebastian is younger than Blaine. Feel free to send a message if you have any questions!

Extra Notes: Under Cut because of length and sensitive content.

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine stared at himself in his little bathroom mirror, his fingers trying to bring some life into his dark curls. He’d gotten a haircut hoping the shortness on the sides would help, but he was still unsatisfied. It seemed, to him, that no matter what he did with himself he always looked like he was about to fall over from exhaustion. Maybe because you’re exhausted, Blaine. You’ve done nothing but work, school and then work some more with a little side of anxiously waiting for your phone to go off so you can maybe talk to Sebastian. If you’d just let yourself sleep longer than four hours and stop fighting your medication and perhaps let it do its job then maybe, just maybe, you'd look like a fucking human being for your first date in well over a year.

He huffed at himself before turning away, sick of looking at his face. He and Kurt had been broken up for over eight and a half or so months now, since May the year before and Blaine hadn't been on a proper date in… over a year and a half. Things just sort of stopped with Kurt- dates, kissing, sex- (which he supposed he was fine with even though he would have taken any gentle touch he could get at the time) everything stopped except the ridicule and the bruises, that is. Needless to say, Blaine didn’t know how to do this anymore. And this was Sebastian. Someone he used to be so goddamn comfortable with. And now? He didn’t know if he even knew how to kiss properly without feeling shame and god, he couldn’t even imagine sex. Would Sebastian want that now? Would he be able and willing to wait? Blaine was human, of course, and the thought of Sebastian still made his heart race and his skin feel itchy with so much desire, but every time he thought about it he became clammy and panicky and he froze up. It didn’t help that he thought about it often and in turn got upset about it just as much.

He wanted nothing more than to impress the other man, to show him that he was still someone important, someone that he could maybe love again (had Seb ever?) or even just spend time with. Someone worthy. But, looking in the mirror, he didn’t feel like that person. He felt stupid and desperate for attention from Sebastian and he wondered if maybe he should cancel before he made a fool of himself… He could picture Sebastian’s faelike face when he got the text; he’d bite his bottom lip and pretend he was fine and throw himself into school work or go out anyway but Blaine knew it would upset him. He sighed because he didn’t want to cancel, he wanted to see Sebastian so bad. So made his way to his tiny bedroom, sat on his bed and opened his small nightstand. He found his anti-anxiety med and forced himself to take a half of one with the bottle of water he kept next to his bed. He didn’t want to take it all because of how drowsy it made him, but he knew that if he didn’t he might regret it. He could do this. He could date again. Besides, it was Sebastian. The boy he’d loved so fucking much in such a short time. Blaine could be good enough for him. Right?

He huffed, annoyed with himself, and shook his head before running his hand down his face. He was tired of worrying and second guessing himself. He pulled his phone from his pocket; 5:23pm. He took a deep breath and stood up, looking down at himself and just hoping that his soft, fitted, heather black sweater, one he’d spent too much money on paired with his nicest jeans was good enough the place they were going. He didn’t feel as if it were but… He turned and got into his closet nook for his pea coat. He might as well get some fresh air while he waited the last few minutes, maybe the chill would calm him down. A mix of excitement and pure nerves went through him as he waited wondering which car was Seb’s.

Breathe in, breathe out. You’ve got this, Blaine.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian hoped that Blaine wouldn’t cancel. Of course, he would understand if he had to, Blaine had told him a little bit about his past. He would be upset and he would probably make a terrible decision to hide from the creeping feeling of sadness and disappointment but he would understand. Blaine hadn’t canceled yet, though and it gave him the little thread of hope that he needed. Sebastian planned everything perfectly, he thought it might help the other man feel a little less anxious. He had made reservations at the Sushi place and secured a driver for the evening so that they didn’t have to rely on Uber or cabs(he figured he shouldn’t take his own car out in case he drank too much which he was wont to do these past few years.) As long as traffic was on his side, everything would run smoothly.

He blared music as he got ready and kept finding himself smiling. He took a long shower (though he was sure nothing physical would happen), obsessed over his hair in the mirror (his perfectly imperfect swoop of bangs), picked out his most expensive cologne (Fucking fabulous by Tom Ford), and stood in his walk in closet trying on different outfits a little longer than he would ever admit. He settled on a dark blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark cuffed jeans with his classic, clean white Vans. Sebastian wanted to look his best but also didn’t want to come across that he was trying as hard as he was. He added a silver watch to the look and obsessively lint rolled his shirt before one more spray of cologne. He threw on a grey wool jacket and grabbed his wallet and decided that he was finally ready.

Sebastian smoked a cigarette before the car arrived so that he wouldn’t drag the smell of smoke along with him. He thought he vaguely remembered Blaine liking the scent but second guessed himself, it had been such a long time ago. His mind was giddy with the excitement of ‘what ifs’ but he couldn’t fight the nervous tug that sat inside of his belly. Seb wanted this to go well, no, he needed this to go well. He needed Blaine to trust him again and he needed to prove his patience.

The car pulled up to the curb on Blaine’s apartment and of course he was standing outside waiting. Sebastian rolled down the window and admired Blaine for a second because he always looked so lovely with his big eyes and curls and fitted clothing. He jumped out of the car to open the door for him.

“Hey B! Hop in.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s heart and stomach fluttered when Sebastian stepped out of the car and opened the door for him. He looked so damn good in blue (it brought out the little blue flecks in his green eyes) that Blaine forgot for a moment that he needed to move to get into the car and he blushed as he got in. And when Seb scooted in after him, sitting close, a ghost of his former smile found its way to his face and his breath caught in his throat as a whiff of Seb’s scent washed over him. Sebastian smelled like an intoxicating mix of flowers and leather and of course, the smoke that seemed to faintly follow the other man around. They had met up in person a few times over the last month but each time Blaine felt more and more out of sorts around the other man and sitting next to him in the back of the car, close and with nowhere else to go, Blaine simultaneously felt excitement and fear as they made their way towards the restaurant. He wanted to scoot closer and lean into Seb so he could just breathe him in and rest his cheek against his shoulder like he’d done when they were young but he also felt like maybe he didn’t deserve to be able to do that.

Sebastian was here, and he’d been so sweet and patient and what the hell had Blaine done to deserve any of that? He’d broken his heart and now Sebastian was acting like Blaine was worth all of this when really he ought to drop him. And again Blaine wondered if maybe this was all a big joke at his expense. That maybe Seb might take him out a few times and get him attached and needy and happy and then he’d laugh and tell him to fuck off…

Blaine made himself take a deep steadying breath. Stop it, Blaine. This is Sebastian, not Kurt. He wouldn’t do that to you. He’s always been good to you, always treated you like you were worthy, and he’s already forgiven you for what you did. He’s already told you he wants you in his life and that he would have dropped everything to help you. Let him do this. Let him make you feel worthy even if you don’t feel that way. He swallowed and looked up at Seb as they rode. His ghost of a smile slipping back over his lips as he bravely reached out and touched the back of Seb’s hand, letting his fingers cover and then gently squeeze the hand that had once been his to hold whenever he wanted. He practically ached with the memory of the first time he’d reached for it.

“I’m really happy I get to spend the evening with you.” His words were soft and just the simple touch was doing something to him and he wanted to link their fingers like they had a couple of weeks ago on his couch but he refrained and let his hand slide away, tucking it under his thigh as if to keep it warm.

The driver was good and they made it to the restaurant in record time. It was a sleek place with a minimalist setting that offered semi intimate seating for a higher price, which of course Seb had paid for leaving them tucked in a little nook. The prices were making Blaine's mind race and he could feel the panic rise up in him as he looked the menu over and tried to find the cheapest thing. He had to take a deep breath and remind himself that Sebastian wouldn’t have picked it if he didn’t know what the prices were. And what's more, he wouldn't have asked Blaine out if he didn’t want to treat him to something nice. He was pulled from his racing thoughts as the server asked them what they wanted to drink. He asked for green tea and nodded when asked about Sake because Sebastian wanted it and Blaine wasn’t going to tell him he didn’t know if he should drink or not because he had just taken his medicine but surely a few sips wouldn’t hurt him.

He spent a good five minutes wracked his brain on what he could order, honestly it all looked incredible, but his nerves and his memories of harsh words about what he would eat wouldn’t stop and finally he just looked up at Seb and let out a little laugh and a shrug.

“I have no clue what to order. I haven’t been out for sushi in such a long time… Maybe Miso first and,” He paused and looked up at Sebastian for his question, his eyes wide. “Do you think, well, do you think we could do one of those meals, you know, um- where they pick it for you?” He wracked his brain trying to remember the damn word, and why the hell couldn't he get through a sentence without stumbling over himself like he’d never spoken before. He swallowed and bit his lip. “I think it’s called Omakase?” His eyes found the option on the menu and then his heart sank because it was too expensive and why had he suggested that? He went from looking for the cheapest thing to blurting out the most expensive. He blushed as he looked down to hide it and shook his head.

“Oh- I, well, maybe not. I forgot how expensive it is and how long it takes to do. ” He worried his bottom lip, trying to find something else. He knew it was silly to be daunted by a simple, small menu, but fifteen or so options suddenly felt like five hundred and he wanted this date to go well so badly. He shifted in his seat and took another steadying breath as he tried to calm down. This is Sebastian, Blaine. You know him. You’ve seen him a few times over the last month, you don’t need to panic. He tried to tell himself this was just like the other three times they’d talked, but something about it was different. Maybe because Sebastian had put the word date on it and he felt like he was already failing at it. He tried again, determined to be a good date for Sebastian. He had promised Sebastian that he’d do better for him. That he’d try not to drag himself down all the time.

“Unless that’s something you’re actually interested in? The length of time doesn’t bother me.” He offered up a small smile and attempted something like flirting. “Besides, I don’t need to be anywhere else. My night is all yours.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian ordered a bottle of sake and sparkling water. He glanced up from his menu occasionally to look at Blaine as he scanned his own. Seb liked to catch him in little moments like this, where he chewed on his bottom lip or tugged at his shirt sleeves or smiled to himself, moments where nobody else was looking were the moments that the other felt the most confident now. It used to be that he could see Blaine’s confidence so easily, how he carried it on his shoulders with his head held high. Now, there were tiny, tiny glimpses that would peak through when he made him laugh a little or blush. He was going to get that side of Blaine back, maybe it would take months or years but he’d do it.

He looked up from his menu and nodded. “Let’s do it. Why not? You only live once, right?” Sebastian grinned and took a sip of his sake. God, he had missed Blaine smiling at him, looking at him, talking to him. Even just that small closed mouth smile was enough for his stomach to flip like he was 16 again. “All mine? I like the sound of that.” Sebastian wanted to brush his leg with his foot or touch his knee under the table but didn’t want to scare the other man away. “Could I touch you, B? Like, your calf or knee?” He hoped he didn’t sound creepy and fought the cringe that wanted to display itself all over his face.

When their waitress came back Sebastian ordered two Miso soups, two ginger salads, vegetable dumplings and shrimp tempura to start with. He also asked if they could do the Omakase experience. Seb loved food but sometimes just forgot to eat because he was so busy with school or too tired from staying out too late or passed out on his floor, or even worse, somebody else’s bed. He figured that he and especially Blaine deserved a big meal, deserved to feel lavish for a little bit.

Sebastian looked around the restaurant. It was very nice, all dark wood and amber lighting and ornate floral arrangements. He always ended up in places like this, always picked at expensive plates if he were in the mood to eat and not just drink all of the place’s most expensive wine. “Remember when we used to go to McDonald’s at like, midnight for fries and shakes? I miss the little things like that.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine let out a little laugh- Sebastian had ordered all of this food on top of eight courses of the chefs choice and Blaine wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to eat it all. It simply wasn’t possible. But, Sebastian was smiling at him and he looked happy so who was Blaine to argue? Seb could take it all home with him if they didn’t finish it, and Blaine was sure they wouldn't. He nodded, his face heating up a bit at what he’d said.

“Yeah, I mean, the night’s yours. I, uh- there’s no one else I’d rather be with.” He took a drink of his tea, hoping Sebastian wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up his neck and into his face. He swallowed hard at Sebastian’s question, not knowing what to say. His body wanted him to touch him, wanted him to let Sebastian take away everything he’d been through; the pain, the neglect, away with his slender fingers and capable lips, but his brain kept screaming at him that maybe the good touches would turn into bad ones, and maybe Sebastian was just as hateful as Kurt- he just hadn’t figured it out yet. He also wanted to just tell Seb that he could touch him whenever he wanted, wherever- but his mouth wouldn't let him. He had to tell himself that Sebastian wouldn't hurt him and he needed to believe it, but he was scared and he felt exposed.

He had spent so long vying for attention and wanting to be touched gently or even roughly if it were asked for, that he would have taken it from Kurt if he had offered, but all he offered were sharp pinched fingers and nails and shoves and harsh hisses in his ears and all of that left marks he could still feel. And now Seb was here, offering him what he’d wanted and he was afraid to take it. Terrified to let it happen. But, god, his heart wanted to just let it happen. He just wanted to cling to the love and desire he’d felt four years ago and remember how good he used to feel with Seb. He swallowed hard, his hands feeling clammy and heavy on the table.

“I-.” He took a deep breath and nodded slowly, his jaw setting as he talked himself through the simple question. He was in control now. Blaine got to say what happened to him. He had stood up for himself and he had taken his life back and now he got to choose how he lived it. He was in control…

“Yes, y-you can, but-.” He made sure to look directly at Seb as he spoke, making sure he heard him even though his voice was soft and a little unsure. “Could you maybe warn me? Well, that sounds bad- I just mean maybe, um, make sure I can see your hands first before you do? I don’t know if that makes any damn sense but I feel like if I see you coming I might feel calmer.” He swallowed, trying to keep his tone even. “And my neck, I- want, well- maybe just ask about that or any touch from behind?” He hoped he wasn’t asking too much. But, Seb’s face was attentive and he looked like he was really trying to take everything in. “I want to try with you, okay?”

He blinked back the onslaught of emotion as courses of sushi and the like started to come in and he found himself smiling a little again at the memory of McDonald's. “Yeah, I remember how many strawberry shakes you drank over a five month period.” He shook his head as memories fell down between them. “Do you remember our nighttime rides where we’d pretend we didn’t know how to sing so we could shout the words of the music at the top of our lungs to the stars? And the way you looked in my sweatshirt, the competition one with my name on it? It used to thrill me to no end to see you in it, you know? God, I was so fucking happy...I-.” The guilt of feeling happiness over the months of their relationship started to creep in.

Suddenly then the bad memories came, the ones where after he’d spent the night naked and wrapped up in Seb having gotten their most intimate and Blaine was so close to telling him how he felt, only to come home to the most devastating news. A swell of sorrow threatened to take him down as he thought about all the bad memories and how their relationship had come falling down in the crash of a car that brought the loss of his most vital people and he almost let the sorrow take him. But, looking up at Sebs' open and beautiful face, the face that was giving him a second chance, forced Blaine to fight through it. He told himself he was allowed to remember things fondly, he didn’t need to feel guilty for having something pure and good once. It didn’t mean he missed his mom or dad any less. He could still smile. Loss and Kurt hadn’t taken it all away.

“I don’t remember ever getting that shirt back, by the way.” He thought about it for a moment and no, he really didn’t think he had. “I also remember that you used to steal cigarettes out of your mom’s purse and the way you’d try to hide the smell with too much cologne.” He couldn’t help but smile and found himself lost in each intricate bite, talking about the memories. “It never worked, and the forbidden smoke always followed you around like your own little bit of magic. Still does.”

Before he knew it and hour had went by and Blaine had eaten too much, more than he had in months, and the mix of expensive food and the little sips of sake and the process of letting himself relive happy memories with someone that made him feel things had him feeling some type of way and he could feel the air on his teeth as he gave Sebastian a real smile.

“Do you treat all of your dates this good, Seb? God, I envy the boys that got to spend time with you over the last four years. I really do.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian nodded, “Yeah, of course. I can do that.” He lifted his hands and held them in front of himself so that Blaine could see them. “Just like this? Do you need to touch them first?” Seb flexed his fingers and set them back in his lap. “We can try later? I think the food’s on the way.” He took a big swig of his sake and refilled his little ceramic cup. He hoped that he could muster the patience for this and that his self conscious demons didn’t make him run away or do something he’d regret because this was going to take time and he really wanted it. Sebastian knew himself and he tended to make bad decisions to keep himself from being happy or facing the fucking music. The music being Blaine and all of the unresolved shit between them. He was going to do this and he was going to be a good...well, they had never said boyfriend before but what were they now? What would they be?

“ I loved that sweatshirt.” Sebastian popped a dumpling into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He had thrown the sweater away one night when he was heartbroken and teenaged which is one of the worst combos known to man. He really regretted doing that on cold nights when the ache of being Blaine-less hung heavy on his heart and he missed the smell of his cologne and hair gel and the taste of his cheap cherry chapstick. “I don’t have it anymore, I’m sorry.”

Seb’s stomach dipped when Blaine spoke about the smoke. Blaine had a beautiful way with words where he wasn’t just trying to use lines or fake it, he really meant everything he said. His words always sounded poetic and fell gracefully into perfect little romantic sentences that always made Sebastian smile or roll his eyes playfully or just want to kiss the other man all over until he forgot all of the bad things Kurt had done to him. “I think I remember you being really into that. Are you still?” He bit his bottom lip and quirked his head.

He could have choked on his water when Blaine mentioned ‘other boys’ in such a wistful way when there was nothing wistful or romantic or dreamy about the way Sebastian had been spending his time the last four years. The last four years had been filled with binging on alcohol and snorting things and passing out in unknown places and making his mother cry and fucking men he didn’t even know the names of and kissing bartenders and asking strangers for lighters and getting drinks bought for him by married men and just being such a fucking loser in the midst of Parisian lights that he could hardly stand himself.

“This...is all just for you, B.” Sebastian shrugged his shoulders and fought the itch to order another bottle of alcohol to drown all of the words fighting to bubble up and spill all over their expensive meal. “There is absolutely nothing to envy.” He took a deep breath and looked around the restaurant. Thankfully they were in a private area. Seb figured that he should get it all out in the open. It was only fair, Blaine had been very open and vulnerable with him. “So, the truth is that I’ve been a fucking wreck. I, uh, ran off to Paris before I even finished the school year after...everything. I took a gap year because I was so fucked up all the time. There were...a few times that my mom had to come scrape me off of the fucking bathroom floor and Hunter had to come save me a few times,too.”

Seb shrugged and pushed around a piece of tempura with a chopstick. “And the boys were just boys. I...I can’t remember like, half of them and I hate admitting that out loud. So, no. You don’t need to envy them or me. We both got stuck, B and it fucking sucks.” Sebastian lifted his hands so that Blaine could see them before he laid his hand on the table in case the other man wanted to hold it. “I wish more than anything that I had just...forgot myself enough to just be there for you.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine felt relief wash over him when Sebastian told him that he could do that, a small smile came to his face as the other man held hands up to show him that he meant what he said, he nodded wondering again if he was asking to much or he was being a little crazy, surely he could handle a sudden touch from someone he wanted to touch him, right? He was struck with a memory of Sam, after he’d been living in the apartment for a few months, coming to visit and clapping him on the back to show him that he thought it was ‘awesome that he’d moved to such a cool place’, he remembered the rush of panic and the way he’d frozen up and how many times Sam had, unnecessarily, apologized and he realized that no, it didn’t matter if he wanted to be touched, there had to be some structure to it. He really hoped Sebastian was being honest. He could see some struggle happening on his face and he wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking that Blaine Is too much work? He couldn’t blame him for that.

A pang of hurt pricked at his heart over the fact that Seb didn’t have his shirt anymore. Had he thrown it away? Of course he threw it away, Blaine. You broke his fucking heart. Blaine was suddenly a little embarrassed that he’d clung to the teddy bear for so long when Sebastian hadn’t wanted to cling to what he’d given him. And again, he wanted to kick himself because he’d been the reason Sebastian’s pretty face was pitiful and red and his tears had broken Blaine’s heart into a million little pieces. The echo of Seb’s yelling at him to leave still echoed in his ears and Blaine wanted to cry just thinking about it even though he was here now and right in front of him being so damn honest So yeah, of course he had gotten rid of the shirt. He tried to keep his face as passive as possible when he spoke, swallowing. “I guess I kind of figured that. I can’t blame you.”

There were so many emotions swirling in the air above them, so many memories and Blaine thought that if he squinted, he might be able to see them and reach out and take the bad ones away and hold the good ones close. But, didn’t you need the bad ones sometimes? Weren’t they what shaped you and made you who you were? All the good and the bad and the in between ones. Even this memory of Seb smoking- which Blaine should hate and shouldn't have condoned at all because it could kill Seb in the long run and Blaine should have been a better boyfriend? and tried to help him stop, was one that he kept close But here he was still not so secretly thrilled by it. He laughed a little, wondering if he’d been that obvious in his secret pleasure of the scent. “Only because it was on you, Seb.” His stomach flipped over the way Seb said that it was all for him, but the happy sensation was short-lived as he watched Seb’s face change and his demons started to come out to meet Blaine’s. He’d heard stories, and Kurt had him convinced that Sebastian was happy, his photos on Instagram always seemed happy, then again, so did his own. How many times did Seb hurt himself? What did Seb mean by fucked up? He remembered how drunk Seb had gotten at his house and wondered if that was part of his past. Had there been other drugs? Had he been hurt by any of those strangers? Blaine couldn’t stomach the thought of Sebastian, head lolling and passed out in some random place. He didn’t like the picture of Sabine, so confident and strong, sad and scared for her son. And Hunter, smarmy and charming, trying to wake Seb up and afraid that he might not.

He watched as Seb held his hands up and then sat them on the table and Blaine wanted to cry because even though Sebastian was opening up about his own issues he was still considering him and it made him want to reach out and pull Seb into his arms and take away everything that had happened over the last four years. He settled for reaching out and taking Seb’s hand in his and squeezing it tightly to show he had him. He’d done this part a few times now and each time he felt a little more confident.

“You were there for me, Seb. You were always there for me, I just… I couldn’t let you do it the way you wanted to and it’s all my fault. I feel like I’m the reason you, well, you h-hurt yourself and I hope you can forgive me. I want you to know that I’m here for you if you ever want to talk about it. Or if you just want to, I don’t know, sit with me and just be- I’ll be there. I w-want to do this, I want to keep seeing you.”

He jumped as their server showed up with the bill, setting it in front of them and coming far too close to Blaine. He reluctantly let go of Seb’s hands and he took a deep breath and watched as Sebastian paid the check, which was no doubt way too expensive. He watched, wanting nothing more than to continue their conversation as their leftovers were boxed and brought back out. He reached for Seb’s hand as they walked out into the chilly February air and made their wait to the waiting car. He’d suggested that Seb come up so they could continue talking.

His apartment was warm and the glow of his fairy lights made the room seem ridiculously romantic and as Blaine poured them each a glass of wine it stuck him suddenly that maybe Sebastian wouldn’t be able to wait for him. How long would it take for Blaine to get to Seb’s level? Sure, Seb had told him that his sex life wasn’t all good, but he was used to a certain kind of way and here was Blaine asking to see hands before he could be touched. Blaine had once been a person that loved being touched, loved being intimate and close, especially with Seb and Kurt had robbed him of that. He sat down on the couch and handed Sebastian his glass before turning his body so that he was looking up at the other man.

“First off, I want you to know that I’ve had an amazing time with you. Even with all of the emotions. I really can’t wait to relearn each other's lives and I hope you want that too.” He bit his lip, and took a deep breath, afraid to wait too long or he’d panic and not be able to say it, “I want to do this...whatever it is we’re doing. Dating? I-I don’t know. But, I also want you to know that I understand if you can’t wait for me.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I know that it wasn’t all good and that you didn’t enjoy every person you were with, but I also know that you’re used to a certain speed of things and I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get there, so if you n-need to go out with other men to, um, get what you need, I-I can’t be mad at you.” He felt the opposite way, he didn’t want anyone else to touch Seb, but how selfish was that?

“I won’t be mad. I’ll understand.”

Sebastian's POV:

Sebastian felt relieved when Blaine held his hand. He shook his head and took a deep breath because of course Blaine wanted to place the blame on himself. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t create the hard wiring inside of my brain. You really don’t need to blame yourself for this.�� He made sure that the other man was looking into his eyes as he spoke, “I stand by what I said when I said that we both did some questionable things in the end. We were kids and you went through something so,so terrible. Thank you. I want to keep seeing you,too.”

He accepted the invitation to join Blaine inside of his apartment. Seb helped him put the leftovers in his fridge and told him that he could keep them. He laid his jacket on the back of one of the bistro table chairs and made himself comfortable on the couch. Sebastian had only been in the apartment one other time but to him, it seemed like it was always warm and inviting if small. He took the wine glass and resisted taking an immediate sip. Instead he swirled the liquid around and watched the other man as he spoke. “I do want all of that.” Sebastian could feel his face change, his mouth frown and his jaw tense up as his hand squeezed the stem of the wine glass. He took a deep breath and blinked a few times, sat up a little straighter and took a giant gulp of his wine. Calm down calm down calm down do not say something shitty.

Sebastian was sure that Blaine wasn’t actively trying to shame him and it was clear that he had chosen his words carefully. He couldn’t help but feel like he was on the outside of Blaine’s group of friends again, hearing the rumors and slut shaming words of the New Directions even as he proved to be a faithful partner to the other boy. Felt the sting of random strangers calling him names when he was at the club or the muttered words of family members at holiday dinners or the nasty DMs he received on social media.

“Yeah well, I don’t need any of that.” Sebastian took another deep breath. “Look, I’m really trying here but this is a little embarrassingly sensitive to me. I just want you and I can make myself be good for you.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, suddenly overwhelmed and exhausted from all of the words he had given Blaine that evening. “I don’t need anybody else or to hook up every night,” Seb muttered through his hands on his face. “I never did. I chased you in other men for four years and I can’t believe I’m fucking admitting this out loud.” He leaned back into the cushions and stared at the other man, “I can just masturbate, you know.” He hoped it would lighten the tense air a little bit.

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s heart sank and his stomach twisted into terrified little knots as he watched Sebastian’s whole face change. He shook his head, his first instinct to reach out and take hold of the other man's wine free hand again and squeeze it like he could soothe the words he’d said with his redundant touch. He blinked, his eyes blurry because he could tell that he’d hurt Sebastian’s feelings and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He could feel tears threaten and this part wasn’t about him so he blinked again to keep them back. His brow furrowed and a fierceness to show Seb that he was good swept over him.

“You are good, Seb.” He shook his head, his words determined and full of conviction. “You were good for me then and you’re just as good for me now. Even after you stopped talking to me when not a single one of my friends, save Sam, believed that it was me who left. They all thought it was you who’d left, and when they tried to talk you down, I defended you. It pissed me off so much that they’d never know how fucking good you were for me and how much I-I cared about you.” he stopped himself from saying loved, he was robbed of getting to tell him that when his mom and dad died and he thought it would be inappropriate to do so now. Even if it were true, even if it never went away.

He cocked his head to the side and squeezed Seb’s hand even tighter at his admission. “I’m so fucking stupid for letting you go…” He mumbled, his eyes big and pained and he again wanted to pull the other man into his arms and make him feel better, take away his embarrassment and tell him that he was here now and that he wasn’t going to go anywhere, “I should have told you that night on the phone what he did. I should have left right then, or I never should have left you at all. Then you wouldn’t have had to chase me in random people. I just wasn’t strong enough then... But, I’m trying now and I’m here and I want this so badly, okay?”

He took a deep breath, both of his hands still holding Seb’s, his fingers wrapped around him for fear that he’d float away. He felt like he couldn’t breath as he struggled to get the next words out. “I said I wouldn’t be mad at you if you wanted to keep up your lifestyle because I’m messed up, Seb. Kurt messed me up. He… ruined so much of what I used to love.” He licked his lips, blinking back the rush of tears again and he was angry at himself for not being able to talk about Kurt without crying.

“He just turned on me one night, grabbed the back of my neck and shamed me for talking too much at a fucking party, ripped the hair from my scalp a few times. And then it turned into withholding hugs, and then sex and then he’d refuse to kiss me. And when we did have sex he’d never let me be in any kind of control in the bedroom, you know what I mean? He always had to say what happened and how. He’d use it as a bargaining piece and “rewarded” me like a goddamn dog if I did what he w-wanted. And I accepted it because I wanted to be touched s-so badly, anything I could get that was anything close to nice. And then one day he just stopped, the only thing I got was hateful fingers digging into my skin and his nails drawing blood and having to wear long sleeves in the summer, and words that brought me down until I flinched every single time someone came near me. T-that hurt was the only touch I got for a year and a half. He didn’t even kiss me in front of people for show anymore.”

He swallowed hard, and tried to be proud of himself for getting it all out, but he could feel the shake start in his hands and work its way up his arms and then all over. He felt vulnerable and raw and exposed in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. Even with his therapist. “So, I’m scared. What if I start and I freeze up? I want this so goddamn bad, Seb, I’m just so fucking scared. I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do it all and I want you to be happy. It's been a year and a half since I’ve been kissed, Seb. Don't you remember how much I used to love doing that? What if he took that feeling away?” He paused, his chest tight and breath coming in quick gasps. “God, he even deleted my memories of you… Had me convinced you didn’t want me at all.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian sighed and let Blaine clasp his free hand. “Please don’t call yourself stupid.” It did feel good to hear that Blaine had defended his name when he wasn’t around. “Okay, I believe you. I want this,too. We’ll make it work.” He knew that dating Blaine was going to be a lot of work for the both of them. Blaine was going to have to work on his self confidence and trust and Seb needed to think before he spoke and to stop filling the lonely hours with useless vices.

He set his wine glass on the table so that he could place his free hand on the other side of Blaine’s. Sebastian was quiet and listened because what else was he supposed to do? He hated Kurt, hated that any of this had happened at all. Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip and could feel his skin burn with anger. He was quiet for a few moments as he tried to process the right words to say. “That’s disgusting. You didn’t deserve any of that.” Sebastian ran his thumb over the other man’s knuckles and hoped that it seemed comforting. “ I’d love to kiss you. I’d love to do everything with you. And if you freeze up, well, you freeze up. We stop. We...watch a movie or go get cheap milkshakes or you can take a walk or a shower.” He shrugged, “You’ll get it back, B and I’ll be happy. We’ll be happy.”

Sebastian’s eye brows furrowed and his mouth was a set line. Kurt didn’t know shit about his life, he never had. He was always judgmental of Sebastian and how he carried himself and how he performed and how he spoke and basically anything and everything he did. “Fuck that guy, okay? He had no clue. I still have the pictures.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine cursed himself for using the word stupid again, he’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t do that to himself anymore. He nodded, sniffling a little as he tried to keep it together. Everything felt like so much right now, he felt cut wide open and still so exposed that he didn’t know what to do. Sebastian was here and he was being so sweet, despite Blaine hurting his feelings. His words sounded like heaven and Blaine wanted to experience it all, he wanted to just be normal.

He wanted to go back to the pool where he’d boldly kissed Sebastian, his fingers tangled in his hair. Or back to the basement where he’d gotten to touch him for the first time to the soundtrack of a horror film. He wanted to go back to every time they’d kissed or touched, back to the night they’d gone the furthest, how good and close they’d felt with their noses bumping and Seb’s legs tangled around him. He wanted to go back to right before the morning came and he’d had to go home to the worst news he’d ever gotten.

His skin felt itchy with a desire he’d not felt in such a long time, not even the very few times he’d managed to touch himself under the covers of his new apartment before the shame would overtake him. Sebastian wanted to kiss him. Sebastian wanted him. Not just emotionally but physically. He hadn’t been wanted in anyway in such a long time and he, again, didn’t know what to do with it. His heart skipped a beat at the mention of their memories and how Sebastian had kept them, he wondered if he had looked at them often or did he forget about them like the sixteenth birthday card Blaine had given him that he’d stuffed in a book only to discover it later.

“Maybe you could show them to me sometime.” He bit his bottom lip, “And maybe we could make a few new ones in the future.” He took a deep breath, turning over the words I’d love to kiss you. I’d love to do everything with you. And if you freeze up, well, you freeze up. We stop. Over and over in his head. Sebastian was right there, all Blaine had to do was ask and he’d get something he’d been wanting for a long time. He felt like a child for a moment as he tried to summon up the courage to ask for it and tried not to second guess himself. Kurt had taunted and taken things away for so long that Blaine was struggling to believe it. But Blaine knew Sebastian, even if it had been years, he knew that Seb wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it and that this wasn’t a pity thing. The other man wanted to do this just as much as he did.

He swallowed hard as he let one of his hands slip from Sebastian’s and slide up to rest against Seb’s cheek, reminding him of New Years and the fleck of ash that got to kiss his snow cold face. Blaine’s life was his, and he was in control. And again, he heard Sebastian’s words like echoes ricocheting off of his brain and into his chest.

I’d love to kiss you. .And if you freeze up, well, you freeze up. We stop.

“Could you k-kiss me?”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian blinked a few times. Had he heard that correctly? Blaine had asked for a kiss and he felt equal parts excited and proud. He hoped that his breath didn’t stink and that his lips weren’t dry and that the other man wouldn’t regret the decision to ask for a kiss. Seb gently let go of Blaine’s hands and maneuvered his body so that he was sitting cross legged on the couch across from him. He displayed his hands in front of him and waited for Blaine to nod.

“I’m gonna place my hands on your face,” Sebastian’s voice was soft as he gently cupped one of his cheeks in each hand. He ran his thumb over Blaine’s cheekbone, “I’m gonna kiss you now.” Seb wanted to give him the chance to say no if he decided that this was too much. He leaned in and gently kissed him once and then gave him a second, slow open mouthed kiss.

Blaine’s POV:

Breathe in, breathe out. You’ve got this, Blaine.

Blaine’s heart thumped hard against his rib cage. Every single one of Blaine’s nerve endings seemed to be ignited as Sebastian’s lips pressed so completely against his. He froze for the briefest moment as their lips touched and a part of him wanted to stop, and was trying to convince him that this wasn’t for the best, that Seb was lying. But the way Sebastian's lips felt against his and the press of his fingers cupping his face lightly, made Blaine stay. His toes curled against the hardwood floor as the kiss deepend a little and his hand clenched into the front of Sebastian’s shirt as the other man's lips gently moved against his. Sebastian was kissing him sweetly and Blaine felt like he was floating.

He was overwhelmed with the feeling of it as he forced himself to pull away before the worry could possibly take hold of him again, and he basked in the way Seb had shown his hands for him, and had spoken the words so softly and and gently cupped his face like he did once upon a time, making him feel like someone important. Blaine wanted to cry with the intensity of it. He gave the other man a watery smile instead and swallowed down the new wave of happy tears as he pressed his face into the crook of Sebastian’s neck, allowing himself to breath him in for just a moment, something he’d been wanting to do since he’d seen him again. The smell of leather, and smoke and cold filled his senses.

He could get used to this. He wanted to get used to this. Wanted to let Seb kiss him and touch him and maybe more. Wanted to do the same in return and show Seb how good he really was. And maybe he’d be okay, and maybe he’d have bad moments at times, but right now he was happy and sated in a way he hadn't thought he could feel again. He let out a little laugh and wondered if it felt as good to Sebastian but he was too shy to ask. He bit his lip, ducking his head in embarrassment at how good something so seemingly small felt to him.

“That… that felt incredible.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian felt too many things. The familiar feel of Blaine’s lips, the scent of his cologne triggering memories, his hand in his shirt reminiscent of the first time they touched each other intimately. They pulled away, his eyes closed for a moment before he saw Blaine’s small smile. He let him rest his head in his neck for a moment and he wondered if he remembered how sensitive he was there. Sebastian had thought of this moment a million times when he was all alone at night in his bed, when the alcohol or the drugs or the high from being with another human wore off. He’d stare at the wall or the ceiling and think about kissing Blaine, wonder if he would ever get a second chance, if he’d ever be able to take that chance. Now here he was, on a second hand couch in a small Brooklyn apartment kissing Blaine sweetly. This wasn’t how he thought any of this would have happened but he was glad it was happening. “I’d say.”

The two of them cuddled into the cushions of the couch, sitting close, and talked for a little while longer. Sebastian would offer up his hands and Blaine would play with his fingers and he even showed him some of their old photos that he had stored deep in his phone. Suddenly it was midnight and Seb figured he needed to excuse himself for the night. The two of them lingered in the doorway as he put on his coat and his shoes. “I had a wonderful night. Thanks for coming out with me. We can do it again soon, yeah?”

Sebastian even got to give Blaine a kiss goodbye. This one was just as slow and gentle but just a little bit longer. They said their goodbyes and Sebastian jumped in the car and watched the other man’s brick building fade as he rode away into the New York night. He wondered if Blaine was watching the car. He hoped that he was.

/fin.

#seblaine #seblaine canon divergence #para #colorsicantsee #twoblueheartslocked #Para: Kiss Me On The Mouth and Set Me Free #Seblaine Para #Seblaine RP

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zoey-wades · 4 years

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Honeymoon (King Liam x MC)

Rating: M (Drug Use, Substance Abuse, Violence, Self-Inflicted Violence)

Characters: Dark!Liam Rys x Dark!Lyra Frasier (MC) x Dark!Drake Walker

Summary: Fresh out of school and trying to figure things out, Lyra Frasier spends her weekdays going to a job she hates and her weekends in a drug fueled haze. And then she meets golden boy Liam. Lyra soon realizes that the violent underbelly of New York City’s elite may be more than she can handle.

Author’s Note: I haven’t updated this thing since uh......last year? I’m bad at making a writing schedule for myself. I think, the way TRR has been going as a series, I just haven’t had the motivation. But when I separate this world from that one, it helps a bit more.

Honeymoon Series

ooo. Prologue.

oo1. Honeymoon.

oo2. Midnight City.

--x--

oo3. C.R.E.A.M.

It was bad enough that Liam’s father was ill; he also had to be stubborn as fuck.

Liam winced as his ailing father lifted the shaking glass of whiskey to his lips, determined to keep drinking despite what the doctor and his wife told him about the effects on his body. Liam cleared his throat, earning a single passive glance from his father across the desk.

“Oh come on,” Constantine groaned, licking the droplets of liquor from his chin, “Not you, too. I don’t need anymore shit about what I do in my free time.”

Unwilling to take advice from those he deemed inexperienced, Constantine was an unwavering force in a world of deeply complicated decisions. Liam patiently rested his folded hands in his lap, training his expression to convey as much stoicism as he could in the given circumstance.

“You don’t seem to understand that this,” he motioned towards the glass, “is the reason why Sebastian Clark was able to fly under your radar for so long? What would’ve happened if Walker and I hadn’t figured him out? Who knows what he could’ve gotten away with--”

“That rotten, coked out fucker,” Constantine spat with a wave of the hand, “Good riddance. I didn’t need him poisoning my ranks with his bullshit.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Liam leaned forward in his seat, speaking slowly to emphasize his next point, “We don’t know that he hasn’t. And the fact that he was in your ranks for as long as he had should be worrisome. Who knows what else is going on that we don’t know about.”

“My men are loyal to me,” Constantine stated plainly, “One bad apple doesn’t always spoil the lot.”

At the age of 67, he’d been away from the action for quite some time. Evidence of a hard youth decorated his face and body in the form of scars and bones that didn’t quite heal correctly. Liam couldn’t remember a time when his father didn’t look tired. If he hadn’t seen a photo of a young Constantine with his own eyes, he’d believe the man just came into this world with a shock of white hair and bloodshot eyes. His stepmother half-joked that Liam’s older brother, Leo, caused their father to gray prematurely with his gambling and sex addictions.

On the other hand, Leo had to get it from somewhere.

Liam watched his father struggle to take another sip from his glass before averting his gaze to a family photo on his father’s desk. Teenage Justin and Liam sat side-by-side, unsmiling, with neatly pressed suits on in front of their equally serious fathers. Why Constantine kept that particular photo on his desk, Liam never understood. Nothing about it exuded warmth.

“Did Justin ever talk about a girl around you?” Liam suddenly asked, refocusing on his father who swirled his whiskey in deep thought.

“A girl?” He repeated in thought, “Once or twice. Usually he was asking advice on how to keep them tamed, you know?”

Constantine attempted a conspiratorial smile that Liam didn’t reciprocate.

“Did he mention any specific names?” Liam pressed on, “Or descriptors?”

Constantine raised a brow and sat the sweating glass on a wooden coaster, “What is this about?”

What was this about? Liam wasn’t entirely sure. There was something about the girl, Lyra, that intrigued him. How was she able to dip in and out of their world so easily without leaving any footprints behind? Who did she know?

After dropping her off back home the previous afternoon, Liam did some quick research into who she was. Aside from a few high school choir competition press reels, she was an otherwise ordinary woman.

“Well I...” Liam chose his words carefully, “ran into Justin at the bar, talking to a girl. You know we never really see him with anyone. So I was just curious.”

There was a brief pause between the two men, and the grin returned to Constantine’s face, “A hot piece of ass, huh? Thinking of getting in there?”

Liam said nothing, but fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. His father wasn’t technically wrong. But god damn if the wording didn’t make him feel like the grossest piece of shit.

He decided to drop the subject for another time.

“Sorry to push us off topic, Dad,” Liam quickly corrected, “But, back to my original point...how do you know for sure Clark was the only shady one in the group?”

Constantine considered this, tapping his pen on the wooden desktop, “What reason would I give them to turn their backs on me? I’ve been with these men for well over 30 years, I fed them,” he counted on his fingers, “clothed them, put their kids through school, made them dukes in their own respects. They made their names on my back, and they think they’re gonna fuck me over!”

The sudden exclamation caused the man to cough violently into his arm and then into a handkerchief. Liam instinctively jumped to his feet, and rushed across the room to fetch a glass of water for his father.

“I’m fine!” Constantine croaked, attempting to catch his breath, “I just got a bit overexcited.”

Despite his protests, Constantine took the glass and sipped from it slowly. It hurt Liam to see his father deteriorating so quickly. A part of him felt like Constantine believed himself to be invincible. A smaller part of Liam felt like his father was simply just giving up. He had to put on an air of confidence, as he was at the top of the pyramid and could not show weakness. But as he grew older, cracks in the foundation began to form. Cracks that Liam had been working to seal.

Liam loved his father. There was no doubt about that. But every day the work grew more difficult. Liam could almost envision the empire crumbling at his father’s feet, all because he was too stubborn to fix the loose bricks.

As if reading his mind, Constantine sat the glass down and looked over his son, “You do know that I love you, right, kiddo?”

There was a faraway look in his eyes, a look Liam saw once in a while. And he always wondered where Constantine went when that happened.

“Yeah, I know, dad.”

Sadness darkened his father’s features, “Despite the issues that your mother and I had,” he cleared his throat, “I did love her. And I think you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m always going to be proud of you.”

A pit formed in Liam’s stomach and he reached across to grab his father’s hand, “Hey, what are you not telling me?”

And just like that, Constantine switched the darkness off, a confident grin returning to his face. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“A man can’t tell his kid he appreciates him, anymore? Lighten up, Liam.”

--x--

Liam sat in the garage of his apartment building to smoke and attempt at shuffling through his thoughts. Maybe it was counterproductive. An hour after leaving Constantine’s office, Liam learned of another potential fuck up in his father’s ranks. Someone was making trade deals on the low, and informing a rival company of some arms delivery pick up spots before they arrived for a cut of the profit. He passed the message along to Drake, who responded with the same concerns regarding Constantine’s failing leadership.

Liam was only one man. Though he was sure he didn’t feel an ounce of the pressure his father did, the stress he felt nearly crippled him sometimes. He briefly allowed his mind to wander to Lyra and what she was doing. Did she know how much he envied her life? She didn’t answer to anyone, she could leave the city if she wanted to, she never had to constantly look over her shoulder. Lyra carried herself with the air of freedom he could only dream about. Clutching his phone in tatted knuckles, he almost considered texting her. But truly, what would he even say?

“Hey, I know we only spoke once and you gave me your number because you wanted to pay me back for the gas (which you still don’t have to do). But what does freedom feel like?”

Right now, Liam imagined she was laying across the secondhand sofa in some old college sweatshirt, watching YouTube, her mind a thousand miles away from him. He’d never even seen her apartment. But he had a feeling she had a lot of plants and a collection of decorated whiskey bottles on her kitchen counter. She seemed like the type. He caught himself chuckling at the thought and frowned. Ideally, he’d just let her go. He could never bring her into this world, she was too good for it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could grow to like her.

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, sharply pulling him from a moment of escapism he didn’t even know he needed.

“Hello?” Liam answered, attempting to mask his disappointment.

“Idon’tknowwhathappened! Idon’tknow!” A shrill voice cried on the other end between sobs. Liam pulled the phone from his face, and realized it was his father’s assistant, Penelope, calling from an unknown number. Alarm bells went off in Liam’s head, and he turned the ignition in his car.

“Pen, what happened?” He asked, sitting up in his seat.

“I just came in and he was....! I don’t know what happened, Liam! I was gone for an hour!”

“What. Happened?” Liam asked, again. His heart began to thud in his ears, and he gripped the steering wheel, “Just fucking tell me. Spit it out-”

“Constantine shot himself!”

#playchoices #liam x mc #naja writes #honeymoon**#crime au! trr

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aquilamage · 4 years

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hello and welcome to my self-indulgent pile of headcanons in a fic-shaped trenchcoat, please enjoy the show:

Sebastian has no physical mementos of his mother. When she disappeared, it was as though all evidence of her existence vanished overnight with her. His father never talks of her; if it hadn’t been for the way he’d snapped the first time Sebastian had asked, after, he might have suspected she’d disappeared from his mind as well. What Sebastian has is memories – a bit scattered and fuzzy in places, but fiercely treasured.

---

He’s never quite able to picture her, beyond dark hair and a calm smile that always made him feel safe. People had remarked on how much he didn’t look like her, though; he can recall that. Then as well as now, he’s inundated with comments about how he takes after his father. For a while that had been a point of pride for Sebastian, something he’d tried to capitalize on to become even more like him. (Which only makes things hurt all the more when the truth is revealed. He avoids mirrors for a week, sick to his stomach by what he sees and terrified even long after about what it says about him, whether he really has any choice in what he will become.)

His father, on the other hand, only ever sees his mother in him. Sebastian – well, it can’t really be called imitation if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but in every little gesture he makes there’s a spark of her influence. Even more infuriating is the fact that no matter how hard he tries, Sebastian can’t be made to stop caring – about things, about other people, about wanting to be loved in return - and Blaise knows that’s all her doing.

If there was anyone else around who remembered, they would have spotted it too. It’s just another part of the tragedy that there isn’t.

---

He remembers her voice most clearly, solid and kind and always, always gentle. She spent a lot of time talking to him. Even when they weren’t conversing, she liked to explain what she was doing, would give a running commentary as they did errands to keep him amused, and there was always encouragement and praise at his attempts, successful or no.

He’d liked most the way she said his name, slightly drawn-out and with the cadence of a song. It had made him feel special, enough that when he finally told her he wanted a different one, it had been practically in hysterics over losing that feeling. But she’d simply scooped him up and held him, and the first time she said his new one – Sebastian – it had been sweeter than the other one ever sounded.

Sometimes, she would switch languages to a soft Japanese, talking with a freeness that only showed itself in those moments. It had been like a secret code between the two of them, albeit one that they didn’t use around other people. Sebastian came to notice her excitement whenever he’d ask her for a new word, and did so often, repeating it back to her as she patiently corrected his pronunciation. A particularly memorable afternoon, he’d noticed her solemn and quiet in a different way than usual and ended up bringing item after item from around the house for to her to name, piling things up around her on the couch until she cried with laughter.

In the time after she’s gone, he keeps up the language as best he can inside his head. A reassurance, like he can pretend he’s still able to talk to her. Like she’s still there to guide him, if only in this small way.

And after one of his early conversations with Prosecutor Blackquill, he even picks up learning it again, emboldened by the new life and layers of connection it brings. (Plus, it would’ve made her happy, he knows.)

---

The other thing he picked up from her was music. Her enjoyment was utterly contagious, even in that informal bits and pieces that were all he ever witnessed firsthand.

Sebastian remembers sitting on her lap in front of a piano (the wheres and hows and whys of the context that brought them to that moment completely forgotten) his small hands slapping at whatever section of keys he could reach. She let him for a while, laughing softly. Then, she reached forward and began playing. He doesn’t recall what the song was, just that at the time he was absolutely certain she was doing some kind of magic. As soon as she finished, he stuck his own hands back on the keys. He tried to mimic the graceful movements he’d watched her make, but the sounds still came out as a discordant and jarring as the first time. Tears welled up in his eyes, and she’d wrapped her arms around him, tight but gentle. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Breathe with me.” And when he’d calmed, she walked him through the basic steps, guiding with his hands with her own. The end result wasn’t anything as complex as what she’d played, but it was music, and Sebastian fell in love with it instantly.

Mostly she’d sung for him: lullabies whispered in his ear before naps, echoing choruses of whatever was playing at the store they were in, and her own playful renditions of his new favorites after he’d asked for them a dozen times over. Sometimes, she even made ones up, just for him. Usually simple and lighthearted, based on whatever they were doing at the moment as a way to entertain them. But occasionally she’d encourage him to add on bits of his own, or even start them off. Even if he faltered, she was always nodding along, gentle encouragement and support to keep him going.

His father mocked him for wanting to study music in school, but let him, saying that it was fitting, given that it was just as useless and a waste of time as he was. Sebastian ignored it as best he could anything his father said. Besides, once he’d started he forgot all about it, swept up in fascination that devoured his attention for days. There was comfort even beyond his established associations, in the structured variety and endless possibility that even if it didn’t come as easily to him always managed to be worth the frustration.

Klavier gives him regular music recommendations, something to entertain the both of them. Eventually, he stumbles on one in particular where just listening to the first few notes brings him to tears. He doesn’t realize why, though, until a while later, when Kay offers to help him research his mother. They stumble on something with her maiden name and he freezes. It’s the same one as on the piece of music. He does a bit more digging and finds a collection of other songs she’d apparently started publishing in her early twenties, which stop a few years later – around the same time she met his father. (Neither of them might be around for him to ask, but he’s still pretty confident in his conclusion that that’s no coincidence.)

It takes him some time to go through them all, less from volume than the sheer amount of energy it takes out of him. Hearing her voice for the first time in almost a decade is like having every feeling he’d tried to hide from pulled out of him at once. Not that it stops him. Even as he sits sobbing with the same song paused for the twelfth time, eventually the tears dry up and he takes deep breaths until he can handle the comfort and the memories again, and presses play.

Some of them are harder to handle than others. The first time he starts up a song and recognizes it, could have sung it himself from how many times she’d whispered it to him when he couldn’t sleep, he doesn’t touch any of them for a week. When he gives in it’s to listen to that same one on repeat for a couple of hours until it feels as though all the emotion has been wrung out of him.

---

It’s no coincidence that most of his happy memories of her are just between the two of them. His father had still been the same person back then, and while things got worse after she’d ‘disappeared,’ he’s pretty sure now that it had more to do with her not being around to try to soften things than anything else. He tries not to think about the times of his parents interacting. His mother was always different, then. Quiet and smaller and that scared him the most, sometimes.

As he got older, he came to understand more of it, some of that threatening to taint even memories of just her. (Like the delicate touch of lace from her gloves, which he’d found so pretty. He didn’t realize why she always wore them until a few years after she disappeared, and only then after the pain had died down).

There’d been a time, a while after she’d been gone, when Sebastian tried to forget about her, to hide away the memories. His father had almost convinced him that she’d left because of him, that she’d gotten tired of pretending to care about him, been fed up with how stupid and incompetent he was. That he was the good parent because he wasn’t going to abandon Sebastian (no matter how much Sebastian would deserve it if he did).

Sebastian believed him, for a while. It was the only thing that could make sense to him. After all, if his mother really had loved him, why would she have left?

Sometimes it had just been easier to deal with things that way. If he pretended like things had always been like this, it was easier to stand. To pretend like how his father treated him was normal. If he didn’t know anything else then there would be nothing to miss – no part of him that could hope maybe things would change, maybe he could convince his father to love him too…

But sometimes not forgetting was what made things easier. Sometimes, when he was huddled by himself (in his room, most times) after some encounter with his father, trying to muffle the sound of his crying, he’d recall the times when his mother found him in much the same position. She’d coax him out and scoop him up in her arms, whispering: soft, soothing.

And in the end that’s what happened more, what made it worth the pain of remembering her. Sebastian never could really bring himself to forget her. (Even if he also couldn’t stop telling himself he could change his father’s mind.) Now, he’s grateful for it. Knowing the truth of everything, that he can trust what he’d felt from his memories, and that despite everything his father had done to him, he hadn’t been able to take his mother from him completely.

He builds his life back up, with the precious bits and pieces she’s left him, with the parts of his father he’ll never be able to fully escape (and the slow acceptance that it’s alright, that he can still be a different person than his father was), and by walking a path fully and utterly his own with the help of those here to guide him.

And somehow, he knows it will be enough.

#rambles #fanfiction #my writing #Ace Attorney #Sebastian Debeste #Rita Debeste #bastard man #still vaguely wip-ish but. I! want! to! share!#uhhh #let me go ahead and warning tag this for #abuse #emotional abuse #and also a bit of #physical abuse #(implied)#for bastard man being bastard man in the background

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thisiswhatwereupagainst · 5 years

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Another array of my fave minor Marvel characters, mainly mutant/X-Men related! Info beneath the cut on each:

Lifeguard - Born in Australia, Heather Cameron and her brother Davis grew up with no idea that their biological father, whom they never knew, had been crime lord Miles Warbeck. Heather did, however, know she was a mutant with the ability to rapidly evolve whatever traits were needed (wings, gills, bulletproof skin, etc) to save herself or another person. She embraced these abilities, and used them in her job as a lifeguard. When her brother and her became targets in a gang war due to the power vacuum left after their bio-father’s death, they joined the X-Men for their own safety, and Heather’s old job became her new codename. The identity of her father, she could take in stride, but not so much the identity of her mother. On a mission in space, Heather began mutating further, showing the traits of an atavistic Shi’ar Royal, suggesting her mother was one (most likely the evil Deathbird). Her mindset changed as well, and she was horrified to find she viewed everyone around her as prey now. Her brother Davis, aka Slipstream, did not undergo such changes himself, and rejected Heather for hers, stating that “that THING is not my sister!” He has not been seen since, but Lifeguard has continued to work with the X-Men off-panel as a member of X-Corps. Monet St. Croix - Intelligent, beautiful, and rich, Monet Yvette Clarisse Maria Therese St. Croix has been described as “perfect” by many, a sentiment that she openly and wholeheartedly agrees with. The daughter of an ambassador from Monaco, this spoiled and haughty but still heroic mutant boasts an array of powers including flight, super-strength, and limited telepathy. Her siblings (a villainous vampire-like older brother named Marius and two younger twin sisters, Nicole and Claudette) are mutants as well, and all the siblings can merge with each other to form various combinations. Monet got her start as a teenager in Generation X, where she used the codename “M” but she went simply by her civilian name as an adult when she served in X-Corps, X-Factor, and the X-Men. Monsoon - Aloba Dastoor is a mutant from Mumbai who can control the weather like the much more well-known Storm. He was the younger brother of Radha “Haven” Dastoor, a saintly philanthropist who helped the poor and needy as well as being a supporter of mutant rights. When his beloved sister gained extraordinary superpowers of her own and began a crusade to destroy the world and bring the Mahapralaya (a sort of Hindu apocalypse), Monsoon at first followed her, blinded by his idolization. Unbeknownst to him, Haven had been possessed by a demon that had given her these powers and was making her act this way. Despite his love and reverence for her, Monsoon eventually had to accept she was doing evil, and, believing she had gone mad and must be stopped, betrayed her to X-Factor and the government. Haven disowned him as a result, and they do not seem to have gotten the chance to reconcile before her untimely demise by the demon that had warped her so. Monsoon’s whereabouts since are unknown, but he is listed as one of the mutants to have lost his powers on M-Day. Astarte - Astarte is one of the Eternals, immortal and extremely powerful beings that were engineered from early humans by the Celestials. Astarte boasted the immense and myriad powers common to all her species, as well as the individual ability to influence and control men. She was a member of The Damocles Foundation, an organization of Eternals, Deviants, and humans who were tired of the constant battles between the various offshoots of Homo sapiens. They desired to work together for peace, and to this end attempted to create a race of super-beings which could control the Earth, and thus put an end to all warfare. These experiments caused the death of an entire town of children, and brought them into conflict with X-Force. Firewall - The child of a Cambodian woman and an American man of Vietnamese heritage, she has been called both Theary (a Cambodian name) and Min Li Ng (a Vietnamese name) as a civilian. Either way, she is an angry young woman whose temper matches her pyrokinetic powers. She originally believed that her abilities came from accidental exposure to an experimental napalm during the Vietnam War, but she later learned that she was in fact the product of a Cambodian cult that had practiced thousands of years of selective breeding to produce super-powered children. She was originally a member of Force of Nature, a team of four supervillains, each with a power relating to one of the four classical elements, who worked for an eco-terrorist organization. After the truth of her origin was revealed to her, she joined the other children of the cult in The Folding Circle. As a member of Force of Nature, she went by Firewall as a codename, and her Cambodian name as a civilian. After she joined The Folding Circle, she began using the codename Silk Fever, and went by her Vietnamese name as a civilian. Kleinstock - There were originally three Kleinstock brothers, Eric and Harlan and Sven. They were identical triplets from Switzerland, and all of them were mutants, members of the Acolytes (successors to the Brotherhood, first led by Fabian Cortez then by Exodus and Magneto), and absolute assholes, bullies, and idiots. While some mutant supremacists have been noble or sympathetic, the Kleinstocks were simply aggressive, none-too-bright psychopaths who enjoyed killing anyone that was weaker than themselves, including human children and hospital patients. Eric was killed by a shotgun blast in their first mission, and ever since then, Harlan and Sven have merged their bodies together, so that one brother protrudes from the other’s back. Their powers include super-strength in their merged form and the ability to fire plasma blasts. Benazir Kaur - Benazir Kaur could induce or accelerate disease in others, such as making Gambit begin dying immediately of rapid-onset lung cancer the moment she touched him. However, the effects reversed when she was knocked unconscious. Benazir was the White Queen in Shinobi Shaw’s Inner Circle, and while no one can ever truly replace Emma Frost, Benazir sadly never even got much of a chance to try, as she only appeared in one issue, the 1994 X-Men Annual. It’s hard to glean much personality from this sole appearance, but she seems to have penchant for red dresses and playing chess. Red Lotus - Paul Hark is a Chinese Australian mutant with enhanced strength, speed, and agility. He is also the grandson of Father Gow, who ran the Chinese Triad in Sydney. When Gow was murdered, Red Lotus sought revenge against Gambit, who had been framed for the crime, but then allied with him and the X-Men when the real orchestrators were revealed to be a fellow member of the Triad as well as Sebastian Shaw. He attempted to attack (and presumably kill) Sebastian Shaw for this, but later worked with him to infiltrate and shut down a mutant slave ring. He seemed to have some romantic chemistry with Rachel Summers, who saved him from being nearly killed by Selene, but has not been seen since. Gaea - Gaea is an Elder God, one of the first deities to appear on Earth, and it is Earth itself that she represents and embodies. Every earth goddess in every pantheon of gods in the Marvel universe is actually Gaea in disguise, and she is the true biological mother of Thor, whom she conceived with Odin in her guise as Jord, the Norse earth goddess. It was Gaea who favored small mammals over dinosaurs, eventually leading them to evolve in her image as humans, and who allowed the Celestials to experiment on early humans to create the Eternals, the Deviants, and perhaps even plant the potential to become mutants thousands of years later. Though is an immensely powerful being, she rarely interferes directly with any mortal affairs, and in fact is more often in need of rescuing from even greater forces. Gaia - Not to be confused with Gaea, Gaia is a teenage girl from another dimension who is actually thousands of years old, most of which she spent chained to a machine called the Universal Amalgamator at the end of Time, a device that would be used to merge all sentient consciousnesses into one being. Gaia was apparently the safeguard that was supposed to prevent the Amalgamator from being activated by malicious people. When the villainous M-Plate (the fusion of Monet and her brother Marius) traveled to her dimension and attempted to use the Amalgamator, Generation X followed and destroyed the machine. This freed Gaia, who escaped with them back to Earth 616, and became one of their team. While her name would suggest earth-based powers, Gaia’s abilities are actually telepathy, empathy, telekinesis, and reality-warping that allows her to conjure objects from nothing, even making a house and car for herself. Since she had spent centuries chained to one duty, Gaia decided she didn’t want to spend her newfound freedom shackled to another, and left Generation X to live her own life on Earth as a normal person instead of a superhero. Chimera - Chimera is a pirate who comes from an unknown dimension. It is not known if she has any other name, nor exactly WHAT she is, besides that Wolverine says she doesn’t smell quite human. Whatever she is, she demonstrates an ability to generate ectoplasmic bursts that take the form of dragons, which attack foes both physically and psychically. Desiring to plunder the space-time continuum, Chimera came to Earth 616 when she was hired as a mercenary by a villain named Genesis, who wished for her to kill Wolverine. To this end, she worked with the Dark Riders, though of course they did not succeed. She later formed an alliance with Emplate (Monet’s brother again) when when he accidentally opened a portal, summoning her. However she later tried to leave his side, and he incinerated her, seemingly killing her. However, she turned up again, working for Madelyne Pryor’s Sister of Mutants for unknown motives, then turned up as a member (seemingly against her will) of the Marauders. In her early appearances, Chimera has a strange habit of using her hand as a sort of sock puppet that she talks with, often pronouncing her “r” as a “w” in a cutesy way when she does so. This has led to speculation that she’s insane, but I think it’s just a quirk. Black Swan - Princess Yabbat Ummon Turu is from another dimension, and, as a character deeply tied to the Incursion event, is extremely difficult to explain. Long story short, her world and family were destroyed, and she was the only survivor as a child due to being rescued by the Black Swans, who raised her to be one of them and to serve Rabum Alal, the Great Destroyer, who is actually Dr. Doom. As an adult, Black Swan began searching for a refuge where she could regrow her loved ones, killing Earths along the way until she arrived at Earth 616, where she was captured by the Illuminati. She told them about the Incursions, and how the only way to save their own Earth was to destroy another, which she encouraged them to do. Black Swan possess telepathy, flight force fields, super-strength, optic blasts, and a liking for French fries. Lorelei - One of the lesser known members of the Brotherhood of Mutants, Lorelei possessed the ability to hypnotize men with her voice. Despite her alliance, Lorelei is not actually a mutant at all, but one of the Savage Land Mutates, native people of the Savage Land (a sort of “land that time forgot” in Marvel comics canon) whom Magneto artificially mutated using a machine. Lorelei was apparently his favorite of the bunch, as he brought her back with him from the Savage Land to serve in his Brotherhood, though she seems to have returned back to her homeland offscreen. This is good for her, since she seems to be quite innocent and simple-minded, and had little idea of what was going on, why she was fighting, and even what her powers were (”Can Lorelei stop making strange noise now?” she asked Magneto once) Zaladane - The sorceress Zaladane is a far less innocent resident of the Savage Land than Lorelei. And unlike Lorelei, she claims she is not a native at all, but the long-lost sister of Polaris! Zaladane kidnapped Polaris and used a machine to transfer her magnetic powers to herself. She used these abilities to conquer the Savage Land, then did the same to Magneto so that she could take over the world next. Of course, her plan was thwarted, and the magnetic powers returned to their rightful owners…and the first thing Magneto did with them was slaughter her. But what of her claims that her name wasn’t Zaladane, but Zala Dane? Could she really be the sister to Lorna Dane? Retcons made to Lorna’s backstory later would make this impossible, but at the time this story was written, Dr. Moira MacTaggert confirmed that the power transferral device that Zala used could only be used between genetic relatives, so who knows! Minxi - This Inhuman lass was the daughter of common criminals, but a good girl herself. Minxi was the handmaiden of Queen Medusa, and stuck by her side when she had to flee to Earth to have her son Ahura, whom the Genetic Council had wanted to terminate for fear of what powers (and what madness) he might have inherited from his father’s side. Minxi’s power to temporarily take on the physical traits of any animal she touched was useless in the Inhuman city of Attilan, where there were no animals, but it proved to be useful on Earth so that she could catch food for Medusa and the others who had come with her. However, Minxi also took on the mental traits of the animals as well, often leaving her horrified by her feral actions when she returned to her right mind. Minxi might seem a little vapid when it comes to Captain America (”The one with the hair…and the eyes…”) but she had the good sense to point out that pure intentions and a good heart don’t negate the consequences of unwise actions. Despite her low birth, Minxi was romantically pursued by two of the Inhuman Royal Family, Karnak and Gorgon, though it is unknown if anything came of either man’s interest in her. Auran - Auran was an Inhuman cop who gave her life in the line of duty to save her partner. She was also a single mother of twin girls, who sought to resurrect her with the powers of another Inhuman, Reader. They succeeded, but what came back wasn’t actually Auran—it was everyone’s memories of who Auran was. Some of these memories contradicted each other (some people liked her, some thought she was a jerk, some misunderstood how her powers worked, etc) and it thrust the new “Auran” into conflicted madness. After her mind was healed by a telepathic Inhuman, the new Auran set out on her own to come to terms with her new existence as a living memory. Her Inhuman abilities are a pair of large, rabbit-like ears that allow her to choose any word and hear it wherever it is spoken, no matter how far away.

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel fanart #x men #xmen

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kensingtonapts · 4 years

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SAM EVANS is 23 YEARS OLD and he is a FREELANCE ARTIST in the inspiring city of NEW YORK. He is living in Apt 223. He is portrayed by the hunky hunk CHORD OVERSTREET and his role is currently CLOSED for auditions.

( + ) ADVENTUROUS, KIND-HEARTED, INNOVATIVE.

( – ) GUARDED, IMPULSIVE, NAIVE.

SAM’S STORY

Sam Evans has definitely not had the most ideal childhood in the world. He was born with dyslexia, which made him have to work a little harder in school than everyone else, and due to his parent’s unstable financial income, he was never really able to seek extra help. They didn’t have a cute house in a nice suburban neighborhood with white fences and birdhouses; instead they inhabited the slums of New York. Sam spent most of his teenage life working whenever he could in order to help his parents and younger brother and sister. His favorite spot to work was a small used bookstore not too far from his house. Sam especially enjoyed the graphic novels and found solace among the pages filled with brave superheroes and the adversities they faced and saw himself. Sam managed to draw inspiration from these graphic novels and realized he had a real knack for art. When he wasn’t working or taking care of his siblings he could be found in the art studio of his high school. Reading wasn’t always his strong suit, for obvious reasons, but in art he could express his creativity in a way that made him feel smart and useful. In fact, once high school graduation came around, Sam was able to use the inheritance that his grandfather left him to obtain a degree in art from NYU. Sam got a few different job offers after graduation, including a prestigious entry level position as an illustrator for a publishing company in Los Angeles. However, Sam couldn’t justify it to himself to be so far away from his family so he decided to stay in New York and now just freelances for advertising/marketing firms. It’s not as fun or creative or stable but at least he can stay close to his family. Sometimes he wonders what would have been….and hopes that his future has some more opportunities in store for him.

♛ All Sam has ever wanted was to make his parents proud and to repay them for everything they’ve ever done for him. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have a lot of money growing up, because regardless of their financial standing, they always supported him. They were his biggest fans and never failed to make him feel worthy. If he had to thank anyone for pushing him to stay on top of his art, it’d be them. His mother and father were nothing but loving parents, even through the hardships they faced as a family. That’s why he couldn’t leave for California; he owed this to them.

♛ Sam often takes on enough jobs to support himself and his family. He sends checks to his parents, even though they’ve practically begged him not to. He knows it hurts them to need help, but hey, they helped support him for how many years before he was up and on his own? Plus, he wants his siblings to have a better life than he had, not that he had a bad life. He just doesn’t want them having to work their way through school, because it wasn’t exactly fair then, but it totally wouldn’t be fair now. Besides, they both have super bright futures ahead of them and the last thing they need to worry about is where their next meal is going to come from.

♛ Sam was born and raised in New York; it’s quite literally all he’s ever known. He never had the luxury of traveling out of state for vacation or for any other reason. The home he grew up in was only two bedrooms, which had been fine for the most part. He slept on the couch and let his siblings share the bedroom. After all, he just needed a place to sleep after going to school, working, and focusing on his art.

SAM’S CONNECTIONS

↳ FINN HUDSON: Finn is Sam’s roommate and best friend. Put these two together and you’ve got the Einsteins of party theme. These guys know how to throw a wicked party. They’re the social hub of the scene once the Pizza man starts rolling in with their twenty-fours and Sam brings the keg. They both have a strong belief that you’re never too old to party like a college kid and that’s how they intend to roll forever. That is, until the complex owner sees the damage it’s all done.

↳ TINA COHEN-CHANG: Tina’s verbosity, while sometimes perturbs other residents never seemed to deter Sam. In fact, Sam finds Tina to be very intelligent and patient while others weren’t willing to be and that’s pretty awesome if you ask him. They’re never without something to talk about.

↳ SEBASTIAN SMYTHE: They don’t talk much….besides the occasional short conversation here and there. It’s not that Sam dislikes him per se…he just isn’t sure what to make of the rowdy, outspoken, and sometimes crude remarks Sebastian very often makes. There’s something about Sebastian that Sam distrusts though he can’t quite put his finger on why….

THE QUESTIONNAIRE

1. Do you ever get tired of playing baby sitter of your younger siblings? You are twenty three, after all.

“What? No way. They’re my siblings, why would I get tired of watching over them? They need me and they’re honestly pretty cool.” Even if he was tired of it, it wasn’t like he could just say it. Besides, he’d grown so used to to playing the role of babysitter that it didn’t even really matter anymore.

2. Would you say you have a type when it comes to women or are you an all loving kind of man?

“I’ve never really understood dudes who have a type. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve totally dated plenty of chicks who kinda look alike, but it’s more than that. Good personality trumps hot bod sometimes. Guess you could say I’m all loving?”

3. Are you worried you’ll never get a job offer close to home and you will have gone through years of college for nothing?

"I’m gonna get a job offer. Might not be today, or tomorrow, or 2020, but I’m going to get one eventually. I know it wasn’t super smart to pass up the LA gig, but New York is huge and there has to be something here for me. I just have to be patient, because apparently it’s a virtue or something. Whatever that means.” Hell yeah he was worried and he had every right to be.

#c:all #sam evans #m:taken #c:taken

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archivednerdfics · 6 years

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“Fair and Square” Summery: Anne notices that Gilbert hasn’t acting like himself and decides to take care of him. (Takes place a few months after season 2, episode 10, so beware of spoilers if you haven’t finished the season yet!) ______________________________________ He hadn’t seemed quite like himself the entire school day. He was never a particularly rowdy student — he did his work diligently, answered questions from Miss Stacy when addressed, and rarely talked to the other boys during class; partly, Anne was sure, because he didn’t particularly enjoy their company. However, today was different. Gilbert had nearly dozed off several times during the lesson, and when approached by one of the other boys, he’d positively snapped at him. Not that this in particular concerned Anne, as the boy Gilbert had snapped at was Billy, and she had absolutely no sympathy for that particular boy; not after all he had done — especially to Cole. However, there was no denying the fact that all of this was very unlike the Gilbert Blythe she had come to know over the past months now that they were... well, friends. This was the reason that she chased after him as he made his way to the Haunted Wood after school, he had a head start as he’d been the first to leave the schoolhouse the moment everyone had been dismissed — something else that was very unlike him as he normally stayed behind for a bit to discuss his plans for the future with Miss Stacy, and ask her for her advice on such matters. “Gilbert! Gilbert, wait!” The boy stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her. “Anne?” he asked in surprise, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing! —Or, well nothing to do with me, that is. It’s just... are you alright? Because you haven’t seemed like yourself today and— What?” She cut herself off as she noticed the small, amused smile playing on Gilbert’s lips. “I’m fine,” the boy said in a reassuring voice, “Just tired is all.” She stared at him for a few moments with a quizzical expression. Something about him still didn’t seem quite right; he did seem tired, just as he’d said, but there was something else amongst his features that concerned her. He’d always been pale, but this was different, he was much paler than he should have been — even allowing for the cold of November — and it made the dark circles under his eyes and the unnatural flush of pink in his cheeks stand out more than it normally would have. “You’re ill,” Anne said eventually, a somewhat accusing tone to her voice as she reached up and placed her hand on his forehead. “No,” Gilbert said dismissively as he gently pushed Anne’s hand away from him, “I told you; I’m fine.” He turned and began to walk again, but quickly stopped when he found himself staggering slightly and leaning against a tree for support, a dizzy spell having taken over him for several moments. Anne rushed over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. “Yes,” she said when she was sure he wasn’t about to faint, “Because not being able to walk straight is completely fine!” She realized that, again, he was giving her an amused smile, and she sighed in irritation. “Gilbert Blythe you are positively infuriating. Come,” she added as she took his arm and linked it with her own, “You are clearly much too unwell to be left to your devices; I’ll help you home.” He gave a half-hearted protest, but quickly gave up as the thought of Anne helping him was a pleasant one. ...And besides, when Anne Shirley-Cuthbert made her mind up about something, there was no changing it. It was a long walk — longer than it normally would have been due to Gilbert’s slower pace, something else that concerned Anne, but it was a pleasant walk all the same. Eventually they reached Gilbert’s home, and upon entering, Anne immediately noticed how still and quiet and, well, cold it was. “...Where are Bash and Mary?” she asked as she followed Gilbert to the kitchen table and sat in the chair next to him. “They went to visit Mary’s son. They want him to stay here with us for... well I’m not sure how long. I don’t think he’ll go for it, but Mary wants him to come here so badly...” Anne nodded sadly and gave him a smile, “I hope they convince him to come.” “Yeah,” he returned her smile, “So do I.” They sat quietly for a few long moments when Anne stood up. “Now, you need to change into something more comfortable and warm,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone that took Gilbert slightly by surprise, “Then get into bed and rest. I’m going to get a fire started and make some tea.” “Maybe you should be the one studying to be a doctor,” Gilbert said with a smile, making Anne blush slightly. “Gilbert Blythe, don’t be ridiculous. I am going to become a teacher; and I hope my students will listen to me better than you do. Now go to bed.” Gilbert slowly stood up and gave Anne a pointed, mischievous smile “Yes, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert.” Anne’s eyes widened and she blushed again — a little more pink than before — and Gilbert laughed slightly before leaving the kitchen and retreating to his bedroom. He changed as quickly as possible, trying to keep the chill of the room from getting to him, and got into his bed. The moment his head hit the pillow he realized just how tired and ill he really felt. The last time he’d been sick his father was still alive, and the memory made him smile. He had always hated being alone when he wasn’t well, so on that day he had opted to stay with his father, who was bedridden himself. It was one of the last days the two had really spent together, without Gilbert gone at school or working the farm, and he wouldn’t trade that day with his father for anything. Still, the thought of his father sick and dying wasn’t exactly a welcome one, especially while Gilbert was sick in bed himself... Anne entered the room several minutes later, cup of tea in hand, and found the boy curled up in bed looking like he was trying to hold back tears. She set the cup on the nightstand and quickly sat on the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Gilbert, what’s wrong?” she asked in concern, “Does something hurt?” “No... no I-I’m fine I just...” he let out a shaky breath as he looked up at Anne who was waiting patiently for him to finish speaking, “I don’t want to die like him, Anne.” “Like who?” “My father. He was sick for so long and I... I don’t want to die like that.” Tears filled his eyes and he looked so small and frightened; not at all like the Gilbert Blythe that Anne had come to know so well, and it frightened her. “Oh, Gil,” she said softly, using the nickname she reserved only for important occasions as she pulled him up into a tight, reassuring hug, “I promise you, you aren’t going to die like that. You’ve just got a fever, you’ll be better in no time.” They sat like that for several long moments with their arms wrapped around each other. The boy’s anxious breathing slowed until he finally relaxed, releasing Anne from the hug, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he had when he’d first laid down. “...Thank you,” he said, looking up at the girl through half-closed, glassy eyes. “What do you mean?” “For helping me. I know I can be stubborn, but I do appreciate it.” Anne smiled, but shrugged it off all the same, “You’re my friend. Of course I’m helping you. —And Marilla often tells me that I am stubborn as a mule, so I’m sure you aren’t half as stubborn as I am.” “Are you trying to compete with me?” Gilbert said with a small, playful smile. “Perhaps.” They both laughed, then Anne noticed how tired Gilbert seemed and quickly stood up. “I should go so you can rest.” “No...!” the boy said, panic showing slightly in his fever-bright eyes, ”Please, Anne, I... I don’t want—“ The girl sat on the edge of the bed again, just as quickly as she had stood up, and took his hand. “—I understand,” she said gently, “I don’t like to be alone when I don’t feel well either.” This was a lie meant to make him feel better, and he knew it. Anne would not permit anyone to speak to her when she was in the “depths of despair” as she called it — except for perhaps Diana. Still, he appreciated it; especially when she laid next to him and started to tell one of the many stories she was able to create out of thin air. He drifted into sleep after a short time, dreaming of a certain red-headed Princess Cordelia and a nameless prince who’s description had sounded suspiciously like himself. By the time Gilbert awoke it was dark, though there was a lit oil lamp on his nightstand which illuminated the room. He thought he was alone until he heard a quiet laugh from the doorway and looked up. “Bash?” he asked as he sat up. “You still going to tell me that Anne’s ‘just a friend’?” “What are you talking about?” Bash looked pointedly at Gilbert’s nightstand and the boy followed his gaze to find his school slate sitting next to the oil lamp with: I’ll be back tomorrow to recount the lessons you miss. When I beat you I want it to be fair and square. Love, Anne written on it. He smiled and placed the slate back on the small table, then leaned back into his pillows. “She left you a love note.” Bash was positively grinning and Gilbert rolled his eyes. “It is not a love note. She just said that she’s going to help me.” “I think that fever cooked your brain, Blythe.” “...How did you know I—“ “Anne.” Gilbert sighed; of course Anne had told Sebastian everything. “Now how about we get you something to eat? My mother always said there’s no ill that some good food can’t cure.” The younger of the two smiled and nodded a little. “Yeah,” he said as he pushed himself out of bed and made his way to the man who had become his family, “I think I could use some Trinidadian Bush Medicine.” Bash laughed a put an arm around the boy’s shoulders as he led him to the kitchen. “You still wish you were sick every day?” he asked jokingly and Gilbert rolled his eyes but didn’t otherwise respond, trying not to think about the fact that he’d been telling Anne how afraid he was of that very thing only a few hours earlier. “You were talking in your sleep earlier,” Bash said, sensing that he should change the subject. “Who’s Cordelia?” Gilbert could feel heat rushing to his cheeks. “A friend...” he said and Sebastian gave him a look of amused surprise. “What, another one?” “...No. Same one.” He knew he was blushing furiously now, he just prayed that he could pass it off as part of his fever. Bash just shook his head in disbelief and laughed a bit as he made his way to the stove, and Gilbert sat at the table, a small, involuntary smile playing on his lips as he thought about the princess Anne Shirley-Cuthbert who had graced him with her friendship.

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #anne shirley #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert x anne #gilbert/anne #anne x gilbert #gilbert blythe #anne/gilbert #shirbert #bash lacroix #anne with an e netflix #anne with an e fic

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sebbybooks · 6 years

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Last Request (PT3)

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

"You've held your head up

You've fought the fight.

You bear the scars, You've

done your time. Listen to me

You've been lonely, too long."

-T.C.W

I once read a book about the meaning of forever. I can vividly remember why I was so compelled of wanting to read it in the first place. In the beginning it was a curiosity I had originally possessed I suppose, but growing up I had always seen my mother carry it with her just about every where she went. She would barely put it down, especially after my father's passing. I would watch as she studied the words and I wondered for many years what it was even about or what made her like it so much. One evening after dinner the curiosity that built up inside of me eventually consumed me. After we had cleaned the kitchen I finally blurted out the question. My mother turned around as she wiped her hands meticulously on a dish cloth, her gaze on the floor and her mind somewhere else.

"Mom?" I asked.

She snapped out of it and turned to face me and swept the back of her hand across my cheek. She faintly smiled at me as her golden brown eyes clouded with tears.

"Hopelessness." She said in a faint whisper.

The following week after her funeral I went to our old home to clean the house one last time. I found the book tucked between other hardbound novels on her small bookshelf. I pulled the book out and spent all afternoon sitting in one spot reading it just like she would have. To my dismay it didn't speak of forever being a resolute that we can hold onto. It did just the opposite. As I reached the last page the final line read that forever is a promise that the universe can not guarantee or keep. Perhaps I had loved Sebastian in another lifetime, because our forever was slowly disappearing before my eyes. I am reminded of what Fay Weldon once wrote "This is going to be a sad story. It has to be."

Sebastian didn't wake up yet. The events leading up before the paramedics arrived the moments in between came back to me in sped up fragments. Voices of concern pierced through my ears like white noise. I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he laid there on the museum floor. Earlier I knew he had looked unwell, but I wasn't aware of the extent to his condition. I thought it was just a cold coming on , never in my wildest imagination Sebastian would collapse right behind me. I wished I had never pushed him to come here with me. I wished I had never even got up from his bed and just stayed there with him even for just a few more seconds. I could have spent all day wishing for things I knew I couldn't change.

I watched as they lifted him unto a gurney. I choked back tears as I pleaded with them to tell me if he was alright. The paramedics communicated back and forth between each other as a they swiftly applied an oxygen mask to him. They barely looked into my direction. The only bit of useful information I got was the name of the hospital they were taking Sebastian to. I jogged to the car realizing that as soon as I reached for the door handle that Sebastian had drove his car to the museum and that his car keys were with him.

I loudly cursed under my breath causing people to stare at me. In that moment I felt defeated as I pressed my hands against the glass window on the side of his car. I took a few seconds to collect myself. Then I began to rummage through my purse for my phone to call for a taxi. My hands quivered as I dialed the number. I needed to remain calm for Sebastian and most of all I needed to remain calm for myself. The unsettling fear still loomed in the back of my mind. When I had finally arrived to the hospital I felt emotionally drained. I asked myself on the cab ride over how many times must I walk through these doors with a racing heartbeat?

In the emergency room I spoke to a woman from triage to try and locate Sebastian. She very was hesitant about giving his information to me. I had to provide what felt like an endless list of proof for verification.

"Miss I have to follow a strict policy and I can not hand out a patient's information to just anyone." Her silky black hair with strands of silver and gray was swept into a perfect bun behind her head. I didn't want to push her patience with me, but I was desperate to know where he was.

"I'm his girlfriend." I said short of breath. "I wouldn't even know who to call for him. So if you could please just tell me where did they take him?" I was slowly becoming embarrassed by listening to the desperation rise in my voice.

She looked back down eyeing her tablet. "But you're not listed as his emergency contact?" With a raised brow she looked up at me. The lines around her eyes pinched together as she narrowed her eyes at me with suspicion.

"How is that possible when he was just omitted today?" My voice came out shrill.

I can tell by her facial expressions that she was growing tired and frustrated with me. Though I was equally losing my patience as well. I needed to be with Sebastian. I had to see that he was okay, but the closer I got the harder it became to get to him. "From what it says here he has been a patient of Dr. Austen Pierce for more than a year." Taken by surprise I interrupted her.

"What?" I shrieked. I could feel a tsunami of bad feelings swallow me whole. "No you must have the wrong person." I laughed a humorless laugh. I felt a lump rising in my throat causing it to go completely dry. In the back of my mind I knew that there was something bothering Sebastian, that he had been carrying on like he was going through his own agonizing hell. The more I asked him about it the more he urged me to let it go and convinced me time after time that he was perfectly fine. But, I knew deep down he wasn't.

"Can you tell me what room he is in?" I managed to muster up and ask.

The nurse resumed her apathetic posture as her eyes glazed over me. "He just moved to room 303 east in the Respiratory Unit." She confessed. I realized that she had began to view me as a complete waste of her time.

Relief suddenly washed over me, because I was finally able to go see him. I would've ran to him if I could have. Stepping off of the elevator I felt my heart beating in my throat, I was suddenly petrified as I walked down the white halls of the hospital. Machines beeped all around me, people in different colored scrubs migrated through different areas as they busied themselves. The smell of disinfectant clogged my nose.I was coming up to Sebastian's room when I heard the voice of a woman inside.

I slowly stepped around the corner, because her voice was so familiar to me. I took a glance inside and I saw Sebastian sitting up on a hospital bed with Winnie by his side. I hadn't seen her in ages and come to think of it I hadn't been by her diner since the day the rain had washed me. "Ingrid!" Her voiced pitched as she noticed me hiding around the corner.

I waved in her direction though I couldn't take my eyes off of Sebastian. He looked the same, yet he also looked different. There was a nasal cannula placed underneath his nose and his coffee colored hair was in a tousled mess. If he wasn't in the state he was in any minute now I would've ran my fingers though his unruly hair and urged him to get a haircut. Knowing Sebastian he would have pulled me in an embrace and distracted me with a kiss. His eyes that usually gleam with a beautiful shade of blue, were darker and he wore his feeling of exhaustion on his face. I could feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes blurring my vision, because despite how he might have looked and felt Sebastian still smiled at me like everything was going to be okay. "Hello beautiful." He said to me.

I begged myself not to cry despite the feeling of sadness and relief intensifying. I didn't want him seeing me turn into a complete mess. Besides, the scrunched up Kleenex surrounding Winnie Sebastian already seen enough waterworks. "How are you?" My voice cracked and I was surprised the words even coherently escaped my lips. I dropped my bag to the floor and walked over to Sebastian.

He scooted over in the bed to make room for me to sit down beside him. He outstretched his arm to prop behind me. My eyes couldn't help but drift to the IV attached to his arm. I eased myself onto the bed remembering to move with caution. "You smell nice." He said loud enough where only I could hear before he kissed my shoulder gently.

"I'm going to go grab something to drink. Ingrid dear can I get you anything?" Winnie politely asked, probably thinking of a clever escape route so that she could leave the two of us alone. "I'm good thank you." I said to Winnie, faintly smiling over in her direction. She looked as worrisome as I felt. Sebastian and I both watched her until she left out of the room and was out of listening range. Though he remained silent next to me even after she left.

"You still haven't answered my question." I turned and faced him.

"What was it again my brain is a little foggy?" He winked.

"Not funny Sebastian."

A million questions swirled in my head as my gazed panned around Sebastian's hospital room. Names and dates were scribbled on a dry erase board, penmanship I couldn't make out. I noticed Winnie's purse was sitting on the wooden counter under the board. How did she even know Sebastian was in the hospital? Then after just a few short moments I realized that she was probably the one listed as Sebastian's emergency contact. My heart sank a little, because I was a disappointed that he hadn't chosen me.

"What's happening Sebastian?" My words hung in the air like a humid room searching for a breeze.Sebastian's stare was heavy and he looked at me as though he was begging me to read his mind to spare him from admitting the ugly truth.

I inched away from him to face him, but he grabbed ahold of the fabric of my shirt to pull me back close."There was never an easy way to tell you Ingrid." Sebastian swallowed.

"Tell me what?" I asked. I felt like I was sitting on the edge of my seat waiting to be pushed off from what he was about to tell me.

The monitor beside him beeped before he spoke. "Long before I knew you I had been going through some stuff. When you walked into the diner that night I had just received some news that I wasn't too excited about to say the least." Sebastian inhaled and held onto it before letting it go. His eyes searched mine and I could tell he was searching for the right words to say and I couldn't help but get sucked back into them. "I never picked up a cigarette, I always maintained a healthy diet and exercise, I always did the right thing." His words came out harsh and his tone hardened. Sebastian's gaze grew distant like he was hurt and still stuck in utter disbelief.

I couldn't begin to prepare myself for what he was about to tell me next. He paced himself like wish he didn't even have to tell me himself. A part of me expected what he was going to say, and the other part wish he didn't have to say anything at all. I didn't like where this was going and despite how I felt I listened to him anyway as he continued on.

"For a while I believed this was something that I could beat. After I got my diagnosis I made sure I got the treatment that I needed. Eventually all the drugs, immunotherapy radiation treatment , cardiopulmonary test, I could list all the ways my screen test for my lungs showed no improvement whatsoever. If anything they looked like they where getting worse."

I opened my mouth to speak, but my words got stuck. My tongue went completely dry, and my chest started to ache. I felt a sensation in the pit of my stomach like a thousand knots getting tied. My breathing was hitched and it felt like I was going to be sick. Now felt like the perfect time to unleash my raging tears, but none would dare to fall. I heard Sebastian call out my name though I couldn't speak. Chills ran through my body, because the air around me suddenly felt damp and cold. A lot like how I felt the day of my mother's funeral when the rain soaked my body leaving no area dry. The silence between us was so loud I wanted to scream.

"You're sick and I am just now finding out?" My voice quivered as I licked away the salty tear that had fallen on my lip. I waited for him to answer but he was despondent. "Why would you keep something like this from me Sebastian?" I asked.

"I didn't want your finding out, because you had recently already lost enough Ingrid." Sebastian's brows knitted together and the muscle in his jaw noticeably tensed.

I frowned. "Was I suppose to see you one day then just wonder what happened to you the next? You decided that for yourself not for me!" I tell him. A second passed then another. I asked myself how any of this could be real? I would be lying to us both if I didn't admit that I was hurt by him.

"I was trying to protect you." He said with his eyes closed.

"Bullshit!" I blurted out.

Sebastian replied then exhaled slowly. "I didn't want you to feel obligated or to pity me. I wanted you to love the version of me that can exist outside of these hospital walls."

I tensed as emotions clogged the back of my throat. It felt like I was having a nightmare with my eyes wide open. I wanted to run into my mother's arms one last time with my dad's soothing voice next to me telling me that everything was going to be okay. The bittersweetness of it all soured in stomach, because I knew in this lifetime that would never happen again. Essentially Sebastian had already cut me out. He felt like he was protecting me from the inevitable and I felt betrayed. Sebastian had kept a part of himself a secret from me and I considered that an unforgivable lie that he told effortlessly over and over.

"I would have loved both versions with more love than thought possible." I said, voice trembling. I stood from where I was sitting and I walked over to where my purse was sitting on the floor.

"Please don't go Ingrid." His voiced rasped, and was deeper than usual. Hearing the despair in his voice almost made it impossible for me to move. Leaving him was a colossal of bad decisions. I couldn't even turn around to look at him. The anger that I felt at first masked my true pain. I was guilty of walking away for my own selfish reasons. I wanted to say goodbye before I would be forced to and that is one of the hardest task to do.

On my way out of the door I nearly bumped into Winnie. When I looked up at her I could barely see her face clearly. My eyes were flooded with tears and Winnie outstretched her arms for me to collide in. I didn't know her very well and it seemed liked our encounters would always happen on terrible days.

"I know this is hard." She said as she squeezed me in an embrace. "I've known Sebastian for quite sometime and he puts on a brave front for you. My instincts were telling me that night I saw you two talking that you didn't meet just by chance though."

I began to pull away and I rubbed my face harder than I should have. I had just left him sitting alone and I felt horrible, yet somehow I couldn't convince myself to stay. "I should get going." I sniffed.

The confused look on her face said it all."You're leaving?" She asked.

"I can't stay." I murmured. "It's all just happening so fast."

"I understand more than you know." Her mouth curled into a faint sympathetic smile. I was so sure she would have had more to say to me than that. That I was heartless and cruel or didn’t deserve Sebastian. Instead she walked with onto the elevator and waited outside with me till a cab arrived. I was thankful for her company despite neither one of us not knowing the right words to say. She sat next to me while I tried to make myself stop crying only to keep crying. When it was time for me to leave she asked if she could give me a hug goodbye and I obliged.

"Go home an get some rest." She said as the cab pulled up. I pulled the handle on the door and I stopped myself before I fully got inside.

"Tell Sebastian." I paused hesitantly unsure of what I wanted my message to be. I chose the only words that I truly felt . "Tell him that I am sorry." I climbed inside and quickly closed the door behind me. I knew I was making a terrible mistake but for some reason I couldn't make myself stop.

I noticed for a while I had kept count of the days since I had last seen Sebastian. The image of his face bore a painful memory in my mind. After awhile the days felt like they flew by and I had started to lose count. I hadn't heard from Sebastian since that day and I was crazy think that he would even call. I didn't even know where my head was at. I busied myself with work and still that didn't distract me from my terrible mistake I had made. The one person I wanted to talk to was the one person I was running from.

I decided I couldn't take being alone with my thoughts anymore and so I told my boss Torrence that I wasn't feeling well. I knew he would immediately want me to isolate myself from everyone in the gallery, because he was afraid he would catch what I was getting. I knew for a fact what I was feeling wasn't contagious at all. I just needed to get to the remedy so that I could numb the pain. I got in my jeep and for the first half of my drive I didn't even know where I was headed. I drove on the expressway until I took an exit that lead me me the direction of the storage facility where I kept all of my parents artwork.

I took nearly all of them back home with me and I found myself sitting amongst them. The faces of the old paintings stared back at me with wonder. Wondering where I had been for so long. Looking back at them I wondered the same. It was comforting having a piece of my parents surrounding me. You could really see their shared love for art and one another in every color and every stroke. When I was younger I always admired their passion.

I have always looked up to them. At times it felt like it was the three of us against the world, and now I found myself facing it all alone. I went into my garage and scavenged through containers that I haven't been bothered to touch in months. I pulled out all of my paint brushes, my wooden easel, and my smock that was nearly tie dyed with paint splotches. I lastly went for my unopened paints and for the first time in a very long time I began to paint.My brush led the way guiding my hand all the while freeing myself from my own mind. I could almost hear Sebastian's voice behind me telling me that he knew I could do this all along.

It was almost like a metamorphosis happened. I began to do things that I once neglected. I began going out with friends from work. I took the big step and started visiting my parents at the cemetery. At last I thought I was done running away from things that scared me the most. It hadn't occurred to me that Sebastian was still one of those things.

I can't even begin to explain why but occasionally I found myself visiting Winnie's dinner. I went so often I started to have a regular. My intentions were to just go there and sketch secretly hoping that she would at least utter the sound of his name, she never did. Winnie treated me like an ordinary customer till one day she didn't. I decided if I was going to move on I had to let the diner go too. So I went in one last time hoping she would pass along something to Sebastian.

Hard as I tried I couldn't pretend he was only a figment of my imagination. I dialed his number every day so many times, but in the end I never called. He was all I could think about. I even began to see glimpses of him in everything I painted. I missed not having him apart of my day. I could have easily forgiven him for holding back the truth. Maybe he was right all along. I distanced myself from Sebastian because the truth is I can't handle how permanent a goodbye is. They don’t get easier as time goes on for me it feels like it worsens.

"Hi Winnie." I say nervously, as I sit down in the exact same spot that I did the night I met her.

"Hello dear will you be getting your usual?" She asked me as she wiped over plastic menus.

"No I won't be getting anything today." I paced myself. "I actually brought something that I had been working on for a while."

Her entire face lit up and she moved closer to stand in front of me. "How wonderful! This place could sure use a touch of your beauty." She exclaimed.

I cleared my throat. "Actually it's for Sebastian." Winnie's smile stayed the same, but her eyes were expressionless. "I know this must appear to be so random." I confessed feeling suddenly embarrassed. Winnie remained silent as she looked down at me in disbelief. Yet I couldn't stop myself from talking.

"I brought it here with me." I said lifting up my portfolio.

"When was the last time you spoke to Sebastian?" Her voice was solemn. I was too ashamed to answer. It had been many months since I last heard the sound of his voice. "He talked about you all the time. If you didn't know him you think he made you up. Sebastian spoke of you as if you were his favorite story. " Winnie said, interrupting the awkward silence.

Suddenly she turned around an left the counter then disappeared into the back. I didn't understand what was happening. After several long minutes she finally reemerged carrying a thick folder in her arms. "You two are truly something else.” She huffed, she tossed the folder onto the countertop like she was holding a weight.

"What is that?" I asked out of curiosity.

"He asked me to keep an eye on you. When I told him you had been coming in here for days and would sit for hours to just draw it looked like stars lit up in his eyes. " Her words made my heart sink into my stomach.

"I don't know what to say." I swallowed.

"Sebastian busied himself with negotiations on a property that caught his eye. He asked for my assistance because I have been running my own business for over twenty years now. " Winnie slid over the mysterious black folder over to me.

"He asked me to hand this over to you when the time was right." She said. I just sat there and looked at the blank cover. "Open it!" She urged.

Startled, I did what she asked. There were so many legal term ones that I saw regularly used at the gallery I worked in. I read through page after page and I saw that it was deed to a building here in Seattle. My head shot up a little too quickly. I looked at her wide eyed and completely tongue tied. Clearly she was reading my mind. "Sebastian really wanted you to have this. "

"I have to go see him this is insane! I can't accept this, especially not like this." I said, suddenly feeling short of breath.

"Ingrid Dear."

"I have to go talk to him. I need to tell him how sorry I am. There's so much time that has been lost and so much I need to tell him."

"Ingrid!" She yelled. I stopped talking and I'm pretty sure others noticed. "Sebastian wanted to make sure that you would open your own art gallery just like your parents would've wanted, what he wanted. This was his last request dear.” I noticed that Winnie spoke about him in past tense. It took me a while to digest what she was trying to say until finally I just knew.

{Part 3 out of 3}🌻

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purplerain85 · 6 years

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All I see is You

Pairing Sebastian X Reader

Words: 3055 (Wow!)

Warnings: None yet.

Summary: How you met Sebastian.

A/N: this is my very first fan-fiction story Ever!! I would love feed back no matter what kind, and if you guys wants a part 2. I may just do another part 2 as l do need to finish it off. But l Hope you enjoy it. I fell like its ok.

Sebastian and you, the two of you and had met while you were four months pregnant with your daughter. Your ex decided to up and leave when you found out you were pregnant and told you he would not be there and wanted nothing to do with you or his child. You were visiting your cousin Angela who lived in New York for two weeks, and she was good friends with Sebastian and had talk about you to him and he seemed interested in you and wasn’t scared off when she has mentioned that you were pregnant it wasn’t something that bothered him.

So, when you came down from Toronto, Canada she eased you into meeting him as you were not interested in meeting someone let alone dating someone if it went that way. You remember your cousins words even to this day “Y/N just trust me when I say this man in different he is interested in you and to see why l say you are your own kind of special and how you can laugh at yourself, how you come up with the most so stupid there funny jokes, how you have two diplomas, and that you love horror movies, and he doesn’t even care that you are pregnant!” you countered with “he doesn’t care right now, Angela, but l am not showing right now, and what happens if my sex drive goes away and I don’t want to be touched because I am sore and tired and sick of being pregnant let alone when l am sick!”

Angela was not giving up though she knew that you and Sebastian would be great together, you had the most random and out there personality ever, you classified yourself as an introvert but could extavert with the best of them, you would rather watch comedy, sci-fi, action, thriller and horror movies thriller and horror being at the top of your list you loved being scared and scaring other people. You were just as passionate about your job as Sebastian was about his, you were a legal secretary, for a music firm in Toronto Canada, Angela also knew you would understand Sebastian having to be away for weeks to months at a time. You enjoyed the simple things in life as well you weren’t into fancy things, she finally convinced you to just meet him and see how things went and just go with the flow of things….. the only thing she neglected to tell you was who you were meeting, she just told you that he was great man.

You two got ready for your dinner with this mystery man, you wore a fitted long black top and your favorite Witch King Legging, you wore your hair in a simple pony tail, and just lotion on your face as you never wore make-up you never liked the feeling of it. You two arrived at The Hard Rock Café in Manhattan, at 5:50 the so called “great guy” was already sitting at the table and you damn near had a heart attack when you realized who it was you grab hold of Angela’s are and spitted at her “are you pulling some kind of joke one me?”, “there is no way that man would be really interested in me.” Angela said, “just relax Y/N, he is interested, and this isn’t some kind of joke l promise”, “ok Angela I will trust you and see what happens, but so help me god, if this goes bad I will hold you personally responsible!”

It took you about 30 minutes for you to just relax and open up, Sebastian was very patient and made you feel at ease and had you laughing and even got a couple of your “so called” jokes out of you and he laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. He asked you how you were doing so far in your pregnancy and asked how you were doing in general.

Sebastian’s P.O.V.

When Angela and her cousin walked in l don’t think I have been so nervous in my life, I was aware that she was pregnant by another man (or as l saw it by a boy, not a man) I couldn’t believe that he would just up and leave her like that, I know if l did that my mother would kick my ass! But to be honest l wasn’t bothered nor did l care that she was pregnant, she was more beautiful than Angela described her which I know she did on purpose, she really did upsell her but didn’t over do it. When they walked over to my table she was wearing a nice fitted black top that showed he beautiful curves, and I personally loved the fact that she had meat one her, and if l knew her more l would have totally freaked out more when I saw her in those Witch King Leggings, I had no idea she was a Lord of the Rings fan. She had beautiful natural tanned skin and big brown eyes, and gorgeous full lips that I would love to kiss for hours, and arou….. “Hi Sebastian” I heard Angela say pulling me out of my thought. “This is my cousin Y/N, Y/N this is Sebastian” she held out her hand and I shook it and she had a good hand shake.

It took her about 30 minutes to talk more than yes or no and the odd doing good, I could tell that she was nervous, and I would honestly wait all night to get her to open up more, but luckily all l had to do is ask for one of her jokes… she did not disappoint, Y/N “really? You want to hear one of them?” “Yes, I wanna hear one” Y/N “Ok, why couldn’t the toilet paper cross the road?”, “why?”, “Because it got stuck in a crack”. Angela cringed at her joke, but l couldn’t help but laugh at the joke and the fact that she thought it was the funniest thing in the world, and l even asked for another one Y/N “when does a sandwich cook?” “when?” Y/N “when it’s bakin lettuce and tomato” That one had me in tears because it was so stupid it was funny, and she was laughing so hard.

I asked how she was doing so far with her pregnancy and she said she was doing OK, trying to not to stress to much or worry about the small things, but that she was excited and nervous at the same time. I asked her how far along she was she said four months and a week, she said she had her second ultrasound three days ago, I asked if she had a picture of the ultrasound with her and if she was comfortable showing me. She did, and she showed me the picture and I felt so excited for her and honestly hoped that I would be around to meet this little one. She said she found out in a month what she was having and didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl just as long as it was healthy.

It was close to midnight when we finally said goodnight and I asked Y/N if I could steal her from Angela for a couple hours the next afternoon, she said yes and we planned to go to Central Park and I would show her around a bit and talk some more, I told her l would pick her up at 2pm from Angela’s house.

Your P.O.V.

On your way back to Angela’s place, l couldn’t help but feel like l was on cloud 9, I felt alive like every nerve ending was on fire and I felt something I hadn’t felt in years even with my ex. I told Angela that l was so grateful that she talked me into going to this dinner, and that I was over the moon that he liked me, actually like me, not because he thought he would get something quick and I felt like he wasn’t going to take my feelings or emotions for a ride. When we got back to Angela’s house she went to bed, and l couldn’t sleep so l decided I would text Sebastian, l didn’t think he would get back to me right away, as it was almost one in the morning, but he responded quicker than l have ever had someone responded.

Me: Hey Sebastian, I just wanted to say that it was so wonderful meeting you tonight and I had a really great time. I cannot wait to meet up with you… or go on our date, I think, that’s what it is, (sorry if I think its more, I am not really great at these things). Anyways hope you have a great night. 😊

Sebastian: Hey Y/N I had a wonderful night as well and I cannot wait to hear more of your jokes! You do not need to be sorry at all, because l would call it a date, and excited to see where things go, even if we just become friends, although in all honestly l would like it to be more, but l don’t want to rush you either. I hope you have a great night and a good sleep and l will see you tomorrow afternoon.

He really wants more? I felt like butterflies where in my stomach and I could not believe that this almost to perfect of a man wanted someone like me? I was a nobody, there wasn’t really anything special about me… was there? My last few relationships were shit, last one left me four months after dating for 3 ½ years when l found out l was pregnant he told me that he didn’t want a baby with me his exact words were “yeah l want kids but not with you, I never even thought l would stay with you this long but you know l got comfy and decided it was easier to stay and not pay full rent than leaving and starting over, but now you want to have this baby? Well you can have it but l want nothing to do with you or it.” Than the guy before that was just a down right jerk, I don’t even know why l stayed for as long as l did, he made fun of me for everything, from how l like horror movies over chick flicks, down to the so called lack of sexual experience l had because he found out that l had only been with four other guys before him.

I fell asleep thinking past guys, but once l was in a deep sleep all l could see was the most handsome guy with piercing blue eye, dark brown hair, the best 5 o’clock shadow l have ever seen or felt, he was whispering sweet nothings to me, and our hands were all over each other and he was the best kisser ever! But before l knew it l was waking up and decided l was not going to let past relationships hold me back from possible the best thing that could ever happen to me and my unborn child. I also could not get my dream of Sebastian out of my head and l wanted so bad to know if he kissed like he did in my dreams.

Around 12:30pm l checked my weather app to see what the weather was going to be that afternoon and knowing that it was mid January I wanted to make sure that l was going to be warm, turned out the weather Gods were on my side it was warmer than normal, and I wouldn’t have to buddle up in layer upon layers of clothing. I decided to get Angela to do my hair in a braid updo, even though she suggested that I have it down l told her even if l did it would end up being put in a pony tail so may as well put it up now and that was it was done and out of my face. I decided to wear blue jeans and a nerdy top. I for the first time in my life was not a bag or nerves before going on a date, l was excited and felt like a giddy teenager.

Sebastian arrived at the house at 1:50pm and not only did he look good but God damn he smelled good, and it set every nerve ending in my body off and felt like l was on fire, l could only think of one other time l felt like this and it was years ago in my early 20’s now being 29 it felt good knowing l could still feel like this. Angela told us to have a great time and have fun, and she laughingly said “Y/N behave or try to”, l just rolled my eyes and walked out. When we were walking to his car, my jaw dropped don’t really know what I was expecting but I wasn’t expecting a 4x4 Jeep.

The car ride to Central Park was pretty quick and Sebastian was showing me everything and talking with him came easy and l felt so relaxed around him and l don’t know why but l could feel the walls l had spent years building up, I felt them just tumbling down in chunks. It took us about 40 minutes to get to Central Park and when we finally did get there it was the most beautiful place l had seen even for it being winter. We started walking and he was asking about my up bring and if l had always lived in Toronto. I told him l was born in British Columbia and that l grew up in the military and traveled across Canada half a dozen times before l turned 10, and that l had a younger brother and older step sister. My parents divorced when l was 5 and that l was raised mainly by my mother. That l when l finished high school l wanted to work in the legal field and decided on being a legal secretary and did two years for Law Clerk and another two years for Office Administration so l would be able to have all my bases cover and did all my placements at the music firm you work at now and was hired right after you graduated from your Office Administration program, and that you got lucky and you just work 8-5 Monday – Friday and have the weekends off. He is asking you where the one place is you would love to travel to and as you are answering him, he takes hold of you hand and stutter for a second and blush.

Sebastian’s P.O.V.

I just could wait to hold her hand and feel some part of her, so when she is saying that she wanted to travel Scotland, I grab her hand and she stuttered saying why she wanted to go there and then her cheeks turned flushed and l didn’t think she could get more beautiful, l was so fascinated by her and her interests, she was a big Stephen King fan, which didn’t surprise me considering that she loves horror movies, what did surprise me is her saying she has all his books in Hardcover including all the ones his wrote as Richard Bachman. And that she would rather watch all the Harry Potter, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings movies than read the books, she enjoys the books but like the movies better. All the while l am listening to her talk all l can focus on is her lips, god l really like her lips and her smile every time she smiles l feel like my heart stops.

We were in the park for almost three hours just walking and talking, we did a carriage ride and got hot chocolate sat over by the water and talk some more, than l asked her if she wanted to go and get some dinner, which she happily said yes. When we finally make it back to my Jeep, l went to open the door for her and she was so close l could feel the heat coming off of her and than she looked up to me and l couldn’t hold myself back any longer, l cupped her face and kissed her and slightly pushed her against the jeep l could feel her shock for half a second before she kissed me back, it started to get heated and l pulled away the moment l felt her mouth open. “Y/N l am so sorry, l know l should have waited but l couldn’t, and I know l should have….. why are you looking at me like that?

Your P.O.V.

I was completely caught off guard when he kissed me although that didn’t last long, l loved how his lips felt on mine they were soft and smooth and cold from our walk, but the moment l went to open my mouth and let my tongue ask for permission to deepen the kiss, he pulled away, and l probably looked like l did something wrong written all over my face, but than he started apologizing and saying something about how he should have waited, and than l could feel the smile appear on my face and he asked me why l was looking at him like that, all l did was pull him back in and kiss him with as much passion as l could and than he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my close and l wrapped my arms around his neck and held him as close as l could. Than his tongue glided along my bottom lip and accepted his invitation and that kiss was filled with more passion than l ever felt in my entire life. His kiss was everything l dreamed it would be and than some. Right then and there l knew l wanted him in my life and more than a friend, l wanted him as friend, a partner, a lover, a father (if he wanted that roll) and in that moment l could only think All l See is You.

@evenwhen-ihadnothing @thosekidswhohuntmonsters @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls @sideeffectsofyou @sebcanlikegetit @multific

#sebastian stan

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plussizeappreciationfics · 6 years

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Headcanon: Realization and appreciation

Requested by anonymous: Could I request a Sebastian Stan one where the reader has to go on a trip or something and Seb has to stay at home and take care of their kids and he notices how hard and tiring it is. And he finds a new appreciation for her for taking care of the kids. Thanks and congrats on the followers! I absolutely love your writings!❤️

Pairing: Unspecified plus sized reader x Sebastian Stan

Warning(s): none

Word count: 697

~~~

-Sebastian thought that he would slay the whole “taking care of my children all alone” thing. He had a cocky attitude as you explained every task that had to be done and how to deal with which child in case they cried, were hurt or were throwing a tantrum

-“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of them and make them all love me even more” your husband joked as he gave you a sweet kiss before gently pushing you towards the front door. You sighed as worry rushed through your body, “You know that my sister can take care of them if you’re overwhelmed” you spoke to which Sebastian gasped, “Baby they are our children. Stop worrying and get your sweet butt into the car and go to your girls trip” with that you gave up and glanced once last time at your children and husband before leaving your shared house

-“So what should we do now?” Sebastian mumbled to himself before the cries of your three-year-old daughter echoed through the baby monitor. “Oh someone woke up grumpy” he chuckled to himself while quickly making his way to you daughter

-When he entered her room, she was sitting on the bed while waving her hand in the air while crying “Mama!”. Sebastian quickly took her in his arms and tried calming her down, slowly explaining that you were gone to which your daughter began crying even louder

-“Daddy! Daddy, I’m hungry!” your five-year-old son whined from the doorway. He had his favorite toy in his hands and looked at his father and sister, hoping to be fed soon. “Okay let’s go, your sister needs to be fed too” Sebastian answered and carried his still crying daughter out of her room

-Your son followed him down the stairs, into the kitchen where he placed her in her seat while our son patiently sat at the kitchen counter and watched his father trying to figure out what to cook for them. His eyes landed on the fridge, where a little note was sticking on. “Mashed sweet potatoes with mashed chickpeas and cauliflower” read the note to which he smiled and opened the fridge where he found your children’s lunch

-“Always helping me” Sebastian smiled and took the two small plates out of the fridge and warmed up the meal in the microwave. “Daddy I’m hungry!!” your son whined while slamming his balled fists onto the kitchen counter

-He continued doing that while your daughter started whining and crying again while fidgeting in her seat, crying out for you. “Oh boy this is going to be a long weekend” Sebastian sighed as the cries of his children got louder

-So, while you were enjoying a wellness weekend with your best friends, your husband had to bend over backwards to satisfy your kids needs. While you were getting a massage, your son tried to throw punches as Sebastian while having a bad tantrum

-While you were relaxing in a mud bath, your daughter emptied her stomach all over your husband’s shirt before bursting out in loud cries

-While you just had dinner with your friends, Sebastian barely had eaten as he chased your naked children down the hallway as they didn’t want to get dressed for bed. You went to bed, feeling so refreshed and relaxed while your husband barely slept because your daughter didn’t want to sleep without your presence

-Two days later, you came back from you girls trip and expected to find your house destroyed. You were surprised when you found your kids sitting on the couch while snacking and watching cartoons

-Sebastian entered the living room and let out a relieved sigh before rushing over to you and engulfing you in a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much and I admire you for being a great mother and wife” he whispered in the crook of your neck

-You sighed in contentment as your husband appreciated everything you did for your family. “Come on, I want to know how your trip was” he smiled and led you to the couch were you joined your kids. Your heart swelled when they happily shouted “Mama!” before hugging you

Tag list: @buckybarnesappreciationsociety l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l @koizorahana l l @harleycativy l @itik-angsa l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @sapphiretouch l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @greyfourrose25 l @lafayettes-baguettes-1 l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez l @purplemuse l @ilovefanfic86

-Emma

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x plus size reader #plus size reader

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fictionfromafar · 3 years

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Unmissable International Crime Fiction Novels from August 2021

3 August: The Night Singer by Johanna Mo, translated by Alice Menzies, Penguin Books

Police detective Hannah Duncker didn’t expect to return to her native Öland. She fled after her father’s murder conviction and returns to make peace with her shame. She has a new job with the local police and a nosy new partner. A fifteen-year-old’s death catapults her into a murder investigation that resurrects ghosts from her previous life. As she hunts for the truth, she must confront the people she abandoned. Not all are pleased to see her back home, and she soon learns that digging through the past comes with consequences.

5 August: The Soul Breaker by Sebastian Fitzek, translated by Jamie Bulloch, Head Of Zeus

He doesn’t kill them, or mutilate them. But he leaves them completely dead inside, paralysed and catatonic. His only trace is a note left in their hands. There are three known victims when suddenly the abductions stop. The Soul Breaker has tired of his game, it seems. Meanwhile, a man has been found in the snow outside an exclusive psychiatric clinic. He has no recollection of who he is, or why he is there. Unable to match him to any of the police’s missing people, the nurses call him Casper. My review of Passenger 23:

Fiction From Afar

Passenger 23 by Sebastian Fitzek Passenger 23 By Sebastian Fitzek Translated by Jamie Bulloch Head Of Zeus “Every year on average 23 people

The Woman in the Blue Cloak by Deon Meyer, Hodder

The brilliant two-time-frame novella The Woman in the Blue Cloak has not appeared before in mass-market paperback. It is joined here by several shorter stories, published for the first time in book form.

The title story features Meyer's much-loved detective Benny Griessel at a key moment in his relationship with his new love, Alexa.

The Bucket List: An Agent John Adderley Novel by Peter Mohlin & Peter Nystrom, The Overlook Press

The Bucket List starts when undercover FBI Agent John Adderley wakes up in a hospital bed in Baltimore with extensive gunshot wounds. He knows he’s lucky to be alive. And just a few beds away is the man who 24 hours ago pointed a gun to his head.

10 August: Cold Sun by Anita Sivakumaran Dialogue Books

Bangalore. Three high-profile women murdered, their bodies draped in identical red saris. When the killer targets the British Foreign Minister’s ex-wife, Scotland Yard sends the troubled, brilliant DI Vijay Patel to lend his expertise to the Indian police investigation. Stranger in a strange land, ex-professional cricketer Patel must battle local resentment and his own ignorance of his ancestral country, while trying to save his failing relationship back home.

17 August: Velvet Was the Night by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Jo Fletcher Books

1970s Mexico City: while student protests and political unrest consume the city, Maite escapes from her humdrum life in the stories of passion and danger that fill the latest issue of Secret Romance. She is deeply envious of her neighbour, Leonora, a beautiful art student who lives the life of excitement and intrigue Maite craves – so when she disappears under suspicious circumstances, Maite jumps at the chance to uncover Leonora’s secrets.

No Honour by Awais Khan, Orenda Books

A young woman defies convention in a small Pakistani village, with devastating results for her and her family. A stunning, immense beautiful novel about courage, family and the meaning of love, when everything seems lost

19 August: Come Hell Or High Water by Christian Unge, MacLehose Press

The first in a new Swedish crime series featuring Tekla Berg – a fearless doctor with a remarkable photographic memory. With 85% per cent burns to his body and a 115% risk of dying, it’s a miracle the patient is still alive. That he made it this far is thanks to Tekla Berg, an emergency physician whose unorthodox methods and photographic memory are often the difference between life and death.

Bread: The Bastards of Pizzofalcone by Maurizio de Giovanni, Europa Editions

Sometimes it takes facing a formidable adversary to truly know one’s worth. The Bastards of Pizzofalcone may have found just that: when the brutal murder of a baker rattles the city, they are ready to investigate. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to prove themselves to their community. But this time the police are divided: for the special anti-mob branch, the local mafia is doubtlessly responsible for the crime, but the Bastards are not so sure and think there may be another reason for the murder of the renowned artisan, whose traditionally baked bread attracted customers from far and wide. A rivalry between the policeman and the magistrate is formed, one that, in the end, will extend to more than just their work lives.

Of Fangs and Talons by Nicolas Mathieu, Sceptre

When a factory that employs most of a small town is scheduled to close - to the despair of the workers and disdain of the overlords - things start to fall apart. The disenfranchised factory workers have nothing left to lose. Martel, the trade union rep with innumerable tattoos and Bruce, the body-builder addicted to steroids resort to desperate measures. A bungled kidnapping on the streets of Strasbourg goes horribly wrong and they find themselves falling prey to the machinations of the criminal underworld.

End Of Summer by Anders De La Motte, trans Neil Smith , Zaffre

Summer 1983: Four-year-old Billy chases a rabbit in the fields behind his house. But when his mother goes to call him in, Billy has disappeared. Never to be seen again.

Today: Veronica is a bereavement counsellor. She's never fully come to turns with her mother's suicide after her brother Billy's disappearance. When a young man walks into her group, he looks familiar and talks about the trauma of his friend's disappearance in 1983. Could Billy still be alive after all this time?

Resilience by Bogdan Hrib, translated by Marina Sofia, Corylus Books

Stelian Munteanu has had enough of being an international man of mystery: all he wants to do is make the long-distance relationship with his wife Sofia work. But when the notorious Romanian businessman Pavel Coman asks him to investigate the death of his daughter in the north of England, he reluctantly gets involved once more in what proves to be a tangled web of shady business dealings and political conspiracies. Moving rapidly between London, Newcastle, Bucharest and Iasi, this novel shows just how easy it is to fall prey to fake news and social media manipulation.

31 August: My Name is Jensen by Heidi Amsinck, Muswell Press

Guilty. One word on a beggar’s cardboard sign. And now he is dead, stabbed in a wintry Copenhagen street, the second homeless victim in as many weeks. Dagbladet reporter Jensen, stumbling across the body on her way to work, calls her ex lover DI Henrik Jungersen. As, inevitably, old passions are rekindled, so are old regrets, and that is just the start of Jensen’s troubles. The front page is an open goal, but nothing feels right….. When a third body turns up, it seems certain that a serial killer is on the loose. But why pick on the homeless? And is the link to an old murder case just a coincidence? With her teenage apprentice Gustav, Jensen soon finds herself putting everything on the line to discover exactly who is guilty …

2 September: The Second Woman by Louise Mey, translated by Louise Rogers Lalaurie, Pushkin Vertigo

Missing persons don’t always stay that way. Sandrine lives alone, rarely speaking to anyone other than her colleagues. She is resigned to her solitary life, until she sees on TV a man despairing for his wife who has mysteriously disappeared. Sandrine is drawn to him and eventually the two strike up a relationship. When the man’s wife reappears, Sandrine is forced to confront the truth about him.

The Wrong Goodbye by Toshihiko Yahagi, translated by Alfred Birnbaum, MacLehose Press

In a nod to Raymond Chandler, The Wrong Goodbye pits homicide detective Eiji Futamura against a shady Chinese business empire and U.S. military intelligence in the docklands of recession hit Japan. After the frozen corpse of immigrant barman Tran Binh Long washes up in midsummer near Yokosuka U.S. Navy Base, Futamura meets a strange customer from Tran’s bar. Vietnam vet pilot Billy Lou Bonney talks Futamura into hauling three suitcases of “goods” to Yokota US Air Base late at night and flies off leaving a dead woman behind. My review:

The Wrong Goodbye

The Wrong Goodbye An Eiji Futamura Investigation by Toshihiko Yahagi #JanuaryInJapan The Wrong Goodbye An Eiji Futamura Investigation by Tos

FICTION FROM AFAR

28 September

The Ice Coven by Max Seeck, Berkley

Investigator Jessica Niemi is in a race against time to find the link between a body with strange markings that has washed up on a frigid shore in Finland and two mysterious disappearances in this terrifying new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Witch Hunter.

30 September

The Jealousy Man and Other Stories by Jo Nesbo, Harvill Secker

This outstanding collection of short stories showcases all the writing skill that has made Jo Nesbo the undisputed ‘king of all crime writers’ (Daily Express) and a repeat Sunday Times #1 bestseller. Filled with dark intrigue, twists and unforgettable characters, these page-turners will have you reading late into the night.

Wild Shores by Maria Adolfsson, Zaffre

One terrible truth will create a perfect storm. While her colleagues enjoy the seasonal festivities, DI Karen Hornby is called to investigate a suspicious death on the northernmost island of Doggerland. But how close to home is the truth of the case...

Night Hunters by Oliver Bottini, MacLehose Press

Over the course of several days one hot summer, a female student from Freiburg disappears, a father is murdered in a brutal attack, a teenage boy drowns in the Rhine in suspicious circumstances. It soon becomes evident to Chief Inspector Louise Boni and her colleagues at Freiburg’s criminal police that the three cases are connected – and that others are now in terrible danger.

The Antarctica of Love by Sara Stridsberg, MacLehose Press

A heartrending existential drama by the acclaimed Swedish writer Sara Stridsberg, The Antarctica of Love is an unfliching testament of a woman on the margins, a tale of family lost and found, and a report of a murder in the voice of the victim. This novel of life after death unfolds in brief vignettes, brimming with unexpected tenderness and hope.

7 October: The Stoning: Peter Papathanasiou, MacLehose Press

A small town in outback Australia wakes to a crime of medieval savagery.A local schoolteacher is found taped to a tree and stoned to death. Suspicion instantly falls on the refugees at the new detention centre on Cobb’s northern outskirts. Tensions are high, between whites and Aboriginals, between immigrants and the towniesStill mourning the recent death of his father, Detective Sergeant George Manolis returns to his childhood hometown to investigate.

Lemon by Kwon Yeo-sun House Of Zeus

Focusing on the unsolved murder of teenage girl, this literary crime novel offers insights into gender, class and religion. In the summer of 2002, my big sister Hae-on was murdered. She was beautiful, intelligent, and only nineteen years old. Two boys were questioned, but the case was never solved. Her killer still walks free.

The Survivors by Alex Shulman, Little Brown Dog

Three brothers return to the family cottage by the lake where, more than two decades earlier, a catastrophe changed the course of their lives. Now, they are here to scatter their mother’s ashes – young men, estranged but bound together by the history that defines them. Their lives have been spent competing for their father’s favour and their mother’s love, in a household more like a minefield than a home. What really happened that summer day when everything was blown to pieces?

12 October: The Corpse Flower by Anne Mette Hancock Crooked Lane Books

It’s early September in Copenhagen, the rain has been coming down for weeks, and 36-year-old journalist Heloise Kaldan is in the middle of a nightmare. One of her sources has been caught lying, and she could lose her job over it. And then she receives the first in a series of cryptic and ominous letters from an alleged killer.

14 October Riccardino by Andrea Camilleri, MacMillan

The long-awaited last novel in the bestselling Inspector Montalbano series “At eighty, I foresaw Montalbano’s departure from the scene, I got the idea and I didn’t let it slip away. So I found myself writing this novel which is the final chapter; the last book in the series. And I sent it to my publisher saying to keep it in a drawer and to publish it only when I am gone.” –Andrea Camilleri

The Lonely Ones by Hakan Nesser, MacMillan

Begins in 1969. Six young people arrive in Uppsala. Different circumstances push the three young couples together and, over the course of a few years, they become friends. Years later, a lecturer at Lund University is found dead at the bottom of a cliff in the woods close to Kymlinge. And chillingly, it is the very same spot where one of the Uppsala students died thirty-five years before

28 October The Hideout by Camilla Grebe, Zaffre

Inertia is an eerie psychological thriller from the award-winning Swedish bestselling author Camilla Grebe. When 18-year old Samuel finds himself at the centre of a drug deal gone wrong, he is forced to go underground to escape the police and an infamous drug lord.

The Commandments by Oskar Gudmundsson Corylus Books

On a cold winter morning in 1995, Anton, a 19-year-old boy, met a priest outside Glerárkirkja in Akureyri. After that, he was never seen again. Two decades later a priest is found murdered in the church in Grenivík. When the police investigate the case, they finds that a deacon has also been executed inside Akureyri.

Punishment of a Hunter: Yulia Yakovleva, Pushkin Vertigo

1930s Leningrad: As a mood of fear cloaks the city, Investigator Vasily Zaitsev is called on to investigate a series of bizarre and seemingly motiveless murders. In each case the victim is curiously dressed and posed in extravagantly arranged settings.

Hilde Vandermeeren: The Scorpion’s Head Pushkin Vertigo

Shortly after a fractious weekend away with her family, Gaelle wakes up injured in a psychological hospital in Berlin. Her son is is a coma and the police suspect her of attempting to murder him. With no memory what happened but convinced of her innocence Gaelle escapes and begins a determined hunt for the truth

28 October Cold as Hell by Lilja Sigurdardottir, Orenda Books

Icelandic sisters Áróra and Ísafold live in different countries and aren‘t on speaking terms, but when their mother loses contact with Ísafold, Áróra reluctantly returns to Iceland to find her sister. But she soon realizes that her sister isn’t avoiding her … she has disappeared, without trace.

Here is my review of Betrayal:

Crimes In Translation

Betrayal by Lilja Sigurðardóttir Betrayal by Lilja Sigurðardóttir, translated by Quentin Bates, Orenda Books 2020 This is the second book

The Rabbit Factor by Antti Toumainen, Orenda Books

What makes life perfect? Insurance mathematician Henri Koskinen knows the answer because he calculates everything down to the very last decimal. And then, for the first time, Henri is faced with the incalculable. After suddenly losing his job, Henri inherits an adventure park from his brother – its peculiar employees and troubling financial problems included. The worst of the financial issues appear to originate from big loans taken from criminal quarters … and some dangerous men are very keen to get their money back.

2 November Bricklayers: Selva Almada, Charco Press

Oscar Tamai and Elvio Miranda, the patriarchs of two families of brickmakers, have for years nursed a mutual hatred, but their teenage sons, Pájaro and Ángelito, somehow fell in love. Brickmakers begins as Pájaro and Marciano, Ángelito’s older brother, lie dying in the mud at the base of a Ferris wheel. Inhabiting a dreamlike state between life and death, they recall the events that forced them to pay the price of their fathers’ petty feud.

My review of Dead Girls:

Dead Girls — Charco Press

Dead Girls By Selva Almada Dead Girls By Selva Almada Translated by Annie McDermott, Charco Press Billed as journalist fiction, “Dead Gi

FICTION FROM AFAR

4 November The Night Will Be Long Santiago Gamboa, Europa Editions

When a horribly violent confrontation occurs outside of Cauca, Colombia, only a young boy is around to witness it. But no sooner does the violence happen than it disappears, vanished without a trace. Nobody claims to have seen anything. Nobody claims to have heard anything. That is, until an anonymous accusation catalyzes a dangerous investigation into the deep underbelly of the Christian churches present today in Latin America.

11 November The Shadows of Men by Abir Mukherjee Harvill Secker

When a Hindu theologian is found murdered in his home, the city is on the brink of all-out religious war. Can officers of the Imperial Police Force, Captain Sam Wyndham and Sergeant Surendranath Banerjee track down those responsible in time to stop a bloodbath? Set at a time of heightened political tension, beginning in atmospheric Calcutta and taking the detectives all the way to bustling Bombay presents Wyndham and Banerjee with an unprecedented challenge.

Turf Wars: Oliver Norek, translated by Nick Caistor, MacLehose Press

Since Capitaine Coste and his team’s last case, calm appears to have returned to the SDPJ93 – but not for long. The summary execution of three young dealers – one them shot in the head in full view of a police surveillance team – is the signal for hell to be unleashed in the suburb of Seine-Saint Denis.

The Lost and the Damned

The Lost And The Damned by Olivier Norek The Lost And The Damned Olivier Norek, translated by Nick Caistor, MacLehose Press Aside from th

FICTION FROM AFAR

16 November The Deathwatch Beetle by Kjell Eriksson, Minotaur Book

Four years have passed since Cecilia Karlsson disappeared from the island of Gräsö in Roslagen. When Ann Lindell receives a tip that she has been seen alive she cannot help getting involved, even though she is no longer with the police.

25 November Question of Guilt by Jorn Lier Horst, Penguin

In 1999, seventeen-year-old Tone Vaterland was killed on her way home from work. Desperate for a conviction the police deemed the investigation an open-and-shut case and sent her spurned boyfriend, Danny Momrak, down for murder. 20 years later William Wisting receives a puzzling letter. It suggests the wrong man was convicted for Tone’s death and the real murderer is still out there, and could kill again. . .

December Will To Kill: RV Rama Pushkin Vertigo

Aging and wheelchair-bound patriarch Bhaskar Fernandez has finally reclaimed his family property after a bitter legal battle, and now wants to reunite his aggrieved relatives. So, he invites them to remote Greybrooke Manor in the misty Nilgiris –a mansion that has played host to several sudden deaths; a colonial edifice that stands alone in a valley that is said to be haunted by the ghost of an Englishman. But Bhaskar has other, more practical problems to deal with.

Skin Deep by Antonia Lassa, translated by Jacky Collins, Corylus Books

The corpse of an elderly millionaire is discovered brutally scarred with acid burns. Her young lover is the chief suspect but the authorities admit they are baffled. It will take the intervention of private detective Albert Larten to explore all the complexities of desire, and ultimately reveal the truth.

Erin by Cyril Carrère, trans David Warriner

Erin Silva is struggling to get a grip. She’s young, naive, and has a deep connection to those she loves. But she’s not as fragile as she seems. As she prepares to take over the family business—in spite of some maternal reticence—she finds herself caught up in a chain of ill-fated events. It’s distressing for Erin to stir up the pain of the past, but she’s determined to find out the truth as she sets out to track down those responsible and make them pay. Even if it means letting go of the last illusions that remain of the life she once knew.

#crime fiction #crimeintranslation #european literature #nordicnoir #french noir #latinamericancrimefiction

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loquaciousquark · 6 years

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5th Harvestmere. It is Properly Blustery at last

Sebastian’s singing voice is unfairly beautiful. Went to services this morning (he told us last week at WG he was cantoring) and enjoyed every minute of it. Classical training can only do so much—I proved that myself, to Mother’s consternation—and sometimes you just can’t help but appreciate raw natural talent.

Damn. I was trying not to think about

Varric told us this morning he’d heard a rumor about a ship waylaying a trading vessel out of Rivain last month. The captain was calling herself the Queen of the Eastern Seas.

She hasn’t tried to write me either, so I don’t know why it stings so much. Maybe because I know she could find me if she wished, and she...wishes not to, apparently. And I…

I don’t think the post delivers to Queen of the Eastern Seas. Especially not without a forwarding address.

15th Harvestmere. Chilly enough to break out the ugly sweaters

Orana’s been here a year tomorrow. She thought I’d forgotten—aha, but I hadn’t! Untrusting woman!

Had all her favorites for dinner—light meats, fresh fruit in tartes, and grilled slices of red potatoes in a vinegar sauce. Dessert was a flat chocolate cake thing that Bodahn makes only on very special occasions. Well, if Orana’s not special, I don’t know what is.

I got her a new lute. I don’t know if I should have, but she doesn’t know when she was born, not even the season, and there aren’t nearly enough opportunities the rest of the year for proper gift-giving. Not to mention her old one’s a half size too large for her (accursed merchant), and one of the keys won’t hold its place for tuning. The new one has ivy scrollwork on the neck that made me think of her. Strong at the root, even if the leaves look fragile.

One of Orana’s friends, a woman who helps out in Jean-Luc’s shop, came by for dessert as well, as did Tomwise, and an elf woman I recognized from Lowtown but couldn’t place the name of, and her little daughter. Toby naturally took the girl’s entertainment as his number one priority, which helped, and then all Orana’s friends and Bodahn and Sandal sat around just...having a very lovely conversation.

I hadn’t even realized she knew all these people. Bodahn was the one to invite them all.

I excused myself after a while, just to give them some privacy. I think I made the little girl nervous. I wish I could explain to her I belong with Tomwise a thousand times more than I belong with Lady Forsythe and the glittering errata.

Then again, I’m the one importing strawberries out of season and serving chocolate cake on hand-dyed porcelain. Flames, at this point I wish I could explain it to myself.

Later, almost midnight

Orana came and found me after all her friends had left. She asked if she could play something for me in thanks—I told her the lute was out of my gratitude, not meant to exacerbate hers, but she just gave that little smile that tells me she’s about to do whatever she wishes anyway, so I lit a few candles and she sat next to me at the window.

I don’t know what it was called. It was Tevinter and strange and sad, and she hummed a little in harmony as she went, and I wanted to cry without knowing why.

She said her father had loved that song. She said he and the other cooks used to sing it in groups in Hadriana’s kitchens, but she’s forgotten the words.

I wondered…

Mm. I wondered if Fenris would know the words, and Orana shook her head and smiled and thought it was unlikely, that what she knew of Danarius’s household offered very little of Napocan folk songs.

She said she’d heard of Fenris in Minrathous, that Hadriana talked of him sometimes, and that once Danarius had stopped to see his apprentice and Fenris had come with him. She’d seen him through a crack in a balcony and been frightened by his face.

She hadn’t recognized him at first, that day in the caverns among the iron cages. It hadn’t been until that evening, when he’d come to pace in my foyer, that she’d known him for who he was and who he belonged to. She’d been afraid already, and then I’d come home and Mother had taken her upstairs...

She said Mother had been kind. Even when she’d broken that vase of chrysanthemums—and I’d forgotten about that—Mother had only been patient. She said sometimes that made it worse in the beginning, but she’d understood Mother better by the end.

I burned to ask her if she’d seen Fenris leave that night, but couldn’t bring myself to get the words out. It didn’t matter the answer, anyway—it all would have hurt the same.

Why do happy occasions always make my heart ache the most?

17th Harvestmere. Cold

I forgot my nameday. It was the fifteenth, the same day as Orana’s party. I was so busy planning her day I forgot, and it hadn’t once crossed my mind until Fenris came by this morning.

He had a book. A volume on Aristone’s treatises, annotated by the elvhen mage Daliari, bound in black leather and with a blue ribbon for marking my place.

He said everyone else planned to give me something at cards tonight, but he—implied as obliquely as possible—wasn’t certain if I’d like it and didn’t want me to have to pretend to be pleased if I wasn’t.

I am very pleased.

23rd Harvestmere. Someone piled up leaves from the street right outside my door and Toby has been, in a word, romping

Thinking about Bethany today. Thinking about Varania, too (whether or not she exists), and Karl, Anders’s old lover, and Sebastian’s family, and the way people can leave without warning and that’s--that’s all there is to it, and you’ve only the Maker’s hope you said everything you needed to before it happened.

I keep remembering I never told Mother I liked her hair, the way she’d started wearing it. What a small thing to keep wrapping thorns around my heart.

Aveline mentioned Wesley the other day as well. An offhanded comment, because Fenris stepped in something sticky coming into the Hanged Man and Aveline (apparently) once walked barefoot into a whole cask’s worth of sour beer Wesley had spilled once. I haven’t heard her say his name in years. I wonder if that’s time’s influence, or Donnic’s.

I am infinitely tired of watching the people I love lose.

Satinalia! 1st Firstfall, and I can’t see a thing through this damned mask. Also it’s bitterly cold outside

Merrill’s already pattering through the kitchen (which means I need to get downstairs immediately before I end up with flour all down the stairs again) but a quick note before I go: next time I offer to host Satinalia feasting, don’t let everyone pre-drink at the Hanged Man first.

Later

New inkpen! Finer point than I had, lovely, a black lacquered ironwood courtesy Varric & Merrill, sneaky sneaky. Av gave a little book of hymns with Sebastian who wrote a decida de dedion dedication in the front. Ha! I can spell. I can spell better than most poeple. Except Varric.

Anders forgot it was Sat. Bought drinks for the whole group in apology & two more bottles to bring to my place. Laughed while he did it but didn’t drink & he def. can’t afford it. Memo: large donation next week, anon. Get V to drop it off via runner. Get the urchin with the whistle. Set the whole street awake if he sees a templar lurking

something is banging outside

He liked his scarf, though. Fereldan colors & part of the Anderfels skyline along one hem. Orana’s idea, smart as flames. Too bad he’s pathologically attached to those feathers or I’d have that paper-thin coat out in half a heartbeat

Merrill was trickier but liked the mittens & Av showed her the stitching on the inside, Dalish for heart & memory. I need to be craftier so I can stop leaching gift ideas off everyone else

Maker’s blood & bone this room will not stop spinning

Av, Seb, V & I all went in and got Fen a complete collection of Mader’s works. Historical/slightly fictionalized/encyclopedic thing. Eight volumes. Dry as bones but for flashes of brilliant humor & then you realize he’s just sarcastic as the Void. Plus rather decent Marcher history from Steel Age onward. Not flattering of Tevinter either. Seems perfect for him.

Fancy leather bindings, all in dark leather with rainbow bookmarks. Not all rainbow themselves. The first is red, next orange, etc. F couldn’t carry them all at once so they’re downstairs waiting for multiple trips

What is this banging

[There is no heading for the next section. Instead, there are large, red stains across the side of the page, as if the writer’s hand had not been washed prior to taking up the pen.]

Burn these smugglers! Now I’m drunk and bloody and my ear is cut and Fen is downstairs kipping in the guest because the Crimson We wa Weavers have death wishes & jumped him for coin

Stupid

especially right outside my house, went out and he had all but three down even swaying worse than Gamlen the morning after payday

laughed when I got two down with lightning, & he looked like a masterwork painting since he still had on the elvhen godshead mask. Fen’harel. Lyrium was glowing and made the eyes light from the inside, and his grin was wolfish as anything I’ve ever...

Now there are bodies in my leaves and no one will get them until morning

Damned inconvenient

17th Firstfall. Stairs to Lowtown were iced over today and one of the people who take the palanquins up and down the stairs broke a leg

Varric told me about a mummer’s show last night in Lowtown. He, Aveline, and I went--invited the others but Anders & Merrill were busy and Fenris said he might but never showed.

Varric didn’t tell me it was about me becoming the Champion. Fighting the Arishok, all that. They made him a monster. Grotesque, I mean. His face was purple and scarred and twisted, and I killed him with a sword as tall as Anders.

The audience loved it. They cheered when the Arishok died, and the woman playing me spat on him before kicking his body into the harbor.

I told Varric if I ever read something like this in any of his future books I’d never take him anywhere with me ever again.

20th Firstfall. Ice has melted and now everything’s soggy as spring

Apologized to Varric yesterday. I know he’d never write anything like that mockery, and it wasn’t fair to take my irritation out on him.

It was a ten-copper mummer’s show, and the lead had papier-mâché armor. There’s only so much self-righteous indignation I can manage at one time.

Absolutely sent the company an incensed letter, though. Enjoy ten pages of detailed, annotated corrections, you limp little eels.

30th Firstfall. Snowing lightly today, just enough to make everything slick

Had a letter today. No signature or heading, postmarked Brandel’s Reach. The corner was torn off and the whole thing smelled like salt. “Hope everything’s well there. Still alive. That’s all.”

That’s all.

Six months and that’s all.

19th Haring. Merrill brought a basket of snowdrops and she, Orana, and I covered the great room in garland. Damned lovely

Braeden asked me to marry him. He had a ring made of gold and sapphires and a pair of delicate lace gloves that are too small for me. He said these last months together have shown him I am more than capable of becoming a lasting partner in managing his life and his lands and he’s sure he can make me happy.

I asked him what my favorite color was. He didn’t know.

5th Wintermarch

She died a year ago today.

Fenris came and had dinner with me. We didn’t talk much, and afterwards we went to the library and were quiet there, too. He let me doze on his shoulder when I couldn’t sleep. He left around second bell, when I told him I would go to bed even if I couldn’t manage the dreaming.

Of all the painful anniversaries between us, this one is my least favorite.

21st Wintermarch. I’ve begun needing green -- this winter’s lasting longer than some of Lothering’s, or maybe that’s just because there’s hardly been any snow

I’ve had a terrible cold since Firstday. Orana and Bodahn have kept me bundled in fur & up to my eyes in hot soup and I think I’m finally on the mend. My throat’s so sore I sound like a tenor, though.

Went out to Sundermount last week with Merrill, Varric, and Aveline. We skirted the Dalish camp out there because Merrill didn’t want to speak to Marethari, but I saw her face at the aravel sails peeking over the hills. I’d give a thousand sovs to never see her look like that again.

30th Guardian. Wet and cold and grey and there’s smoke in the winds off the forge down the way

Didn’t mean to leave this so long, but I lost you, journal! Forgot I’d taken you along on a trip up to the farther reaches of the Wounded Coast, and then when I got back I tossed the bag to the side and didn’t think twice about it for a month until Orana started making faces at the smell of iron and brackish seawater. And lo and behold, what should be tucked into the bottom of the bag but a handful of dog biscuits (Toby is thrilled) and you, dear journal, your pages a little worse for the wear but still holding their binding perfectly well.

Naturally, I have nothing to say. The Crimson Weavers have been rooted out from the city and Cullen is now obliged to leave Pelarie’s sister with the family necklace. Something I can check off my list as Champion of this blighted city. Luck dictates I must have one success eventually.

I did have to go by the Gallows the other day to deliver a packet of herbs to Sol. The templars didn’t stare so badly this time, but I know the blonde one with the mutton chops would have killed me if he could. I’m not so far from pitched battle to not recognize death in a man’s eyes.

17th Drakonis. It warmed just for a day as if to tease, then went right back to the chilly damp drizzle. In like a lion, out like a lion, a very wet lion with a soggy mane

I’ve been itching dangerously for a few weeks in the absence of life-threatening peril, so I’ve been taking myself down to Anders’s clinic. It’s cruel to say, but there’s enough death there (and risk of death) to keep my blood at bay, and Anders needs the help besides. There’s a rash of pox going around (ha) and while it’s not too bad for most, the fever can take the very young and very old in a matter of hours.

Anders is getting thin. Reminder: have Orana put some of those turnovers in the basket next time. I’ll fatten him up if I have to tie him to the kitchen chair.

A pair of boys came in to the clinic day before yesterday. Brothers, it looked like, one ten and the other maybe seven or eight. They said they had no one else when I asked. The little one had the pox and was scratching himself to bleeding; the other had the dimpled scars on his neck and arms but no fever left.

I wish I could heal like Anders. He’s so talented at this sort of thing. I can’t even fathom how he can reach inside and feel for the wrongness, then just--pull it out as clean as anything, like separating ink from water in a thin line. Bethany could do that too, when she wasn’t afraid of it. She could sense the source of a cold from across the room and have it halfway to mending in two breaths.

I haven’t the talent like that. Father called me a hammer, once, and he wasn’t wrong, and since Anders was asleep I had to use what I could to heal this boy, which was -- well, me.

He left better than he came in, at least. The fever was gone and the open poxmarks were healed over, but he’ll have scars all down his arms for the rest of his life. Anders would have had him looking fresher than a newborn babe and sent him off with a lolly.

He’ll live. Why am I not satisfied?

1st Cloudreach. Cold

I didn’t want him to just live. I wanted him to be as he was before this sickness touched him, healthy and whole and without the memories of all the pain.

Funny. You’d think I’d have learned by now. If six years of friendship with Fenris has taught me nothing else, the memories make you who you are.

#fenris #hawke #fenris/hawke #dragon age #quark writes #hawke's journal tag #we into the break now folks #spoilers: hawke doesn't take it particularly well #super excited about the next part though because i'm a hopeless sap

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