#and it only got worse as i got older and my interests drifted further away from what my parents liked or wanted to hear about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bokettochild · 3 years

Note

If you’re still taking requests maybe Legend showing off his outfits from Triforce Heroes (if you consider that one of his games) or just the fierce deity outfit if that’s to much

Good grief! This one really took it away! I liked the prompt so much, and had so many ideas for it, that I think this might have to be a multi-parter (wasn't expecting that).

I touched on three outfits in this one, but I have six more I might do as well. For reference, I included the Kolkiri Clothes, Linebeck's Uniform and the Cozy Parka.

I also realized while writing this that this is the first time I've written from Wind's perspective, which is positively criminal!

I am still taking requests by the way! If you want to see something, shoot it at me!

(Fic below the cut)

It started so normal, Wind never thought it would get so insane.

They were in the Old Man’s Hyrule, too far from the ranch to make it by nightfall but close enough to still be in a relatively safe location. Time had called for them to set up camp and as they were close to a stream, Twilight had called for the additional order of baths.

Watching Twilight drag his protégé into the water was almost worth having to have his head scrubbed by Sky.

Most of them had taken the chance to cool off and mess around once they were clean, and while Warriors attempted to duck Time under the water (a mistake, they soon realized, when the man easily overpowered the captain, who ended up getting dunked instead) and Wild sat in a tree watching their backs (hanging up to dry, Twilight had joked), Wind found that the rest of them were content to swim idly in the water, with only the occasional splash from one or another of them. Usually, there would be more noise, but Twilight was teaching Hyrule to doggie paddle, and they needed calmer waters so as to not scare the Traveler.

He cast his eyes over their group. A red-faced Warriors was coughing and spluttering out insults at a smug looking Time (boy he needed his picto-box), Twilight was gently coaxing Hyrule to the other bank in a manner highly resemblant of a parent urging a baby to walk, Wild was keeping watch, and Sky was relaxing in the shallows.

Where were Four and Legend?

A glance upwards and a signed conversation with Wild later and Wind was making his way upstream a way, around a bend that blocked off most of the noise but that Wild could still see over if needed, to where Four and Legend sat together one the bank.

Or rather, Legend sat, Four was floating in the shallows with a curious expression as he watched the vet- cleaning clothes?

“We’re out here having a good time and you’re doing the laundry? Boring much.” He drawled, drawing the attention of the two heroes.

“I don’t like swimming around others.” Legend scrunched up his nose in disgust, it wiggled, almost cutely. “And my things needed a wash.”

He snorted, turning his questioning gaze to Four.

The smithy shrugged. “It’s quieter over here, and Wars will try and dunk me if he gets the chance.” A heavy sigh escaped the shortest hero. “He really needs to be taken down a notch some days.”

“Some days?” Legend snorted.

Wind just rolled his eyes. So, what if Wars had a bit of an ego and spent a lot of time messing with them? It was just the way the captain expressed himself, Wind would do the same if he could get away with it and had a few inches on the others.

A flash of color in the spring caught his attention, bright pink against the soft blue of the water, and he surged forwards. “What’s that?”

Legend’s hand hit his face as the vet reached out to push him back, effectively pushing the excited child under water, and for a brief moment, Wind could swear he saw a pink skirt drifting just before his face before it disappeared and he was popping up out of the water again with a splash.

“You have pink clothes?” He grinned at the bundle of fabric in the Vet’s hands.

“I have clothes in all colors.” Legend sniffed, batting another piece of fabric at him in a shooing motion.

“Doubt.” Four and Wind deadpanned. “Nobody has that much clothing.”

Legend’s face was drawn, eyes dark with that haunted look that Time sometimes got when looking at the moon. “I do.”

Wind and Four exchanged a look. “Why would you even need so much clothing?”

“Adventure number six.” Legend sighed, returning to his washing.

Another shared glance was exchanged and the two boys swam closer to the older teen. “And you used all of it?” Legend nodded. “All by yourself?”

The vet paused. “I had some...friends, with me.”

“You have friends?” Wind sat up again, who knew the Vet actually got along with people other than Ravio and Zelda?

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, Wind, that’s kinda mean.” Four murmured.

“I don’t mean you don’t have friends,” He huffed bangs from his eyes to look at Legend better, it did nothing, they still drifted into his view and cut off his view of the top of Legend’s hat. “I mean, we’ve never seen them so I didn’t realize you were on good terms with more people than Ravio.”

Legend shrugged. “You probably won’t ever meet them, I... became acquainted with them outside of Hyrule and they’ve never been seen leaving the land where we traveled together.”

“What were their names?” Four asked lazily, eyes trailing after leaves that floated off downstream towards where the others were.

Legend’s snort caught them off guard. “You don’t want to know.”

Now that was interesting, Legend never shied away from giving names to the people he had met in his travels, what was so different about these people? He’d had nothing against telling them Ravio’s name. “Why not?” Curiosity was tickling at his just like his hair was, and it was the only thing keeping him from ducking under again to relieve the itching of slowly-drying hair.

Legend cocked a brow at the two of them. “Their names are worse than ours.”

Now Wind really wanted to know! “What were they?”

Four echoed his question, eyes glinting in the light as he stared over at the vet, who was now beginning to pack away his things again. It took some nagging (something Wind had plenty of experience with) to finally get Legend to answer, but when he did, he didn’t disappoint.

“Red, Blue and Green. A set of nut cases if you ask me.” Legend drawled, not looking at them as he stuffed something glittery and gold in his bag. Four froze, eyes flashing four colors, one after another for a moment before he turned his sharp gaze on the vet.

“Did they call you Vio by any chance?”

Wind stared. “Why would they do that? He already has a name, he wouldn’t need to match, besides, Legend doesn’t even wear purple.”

“His eyes are purple.” Four pointed out, and Wind turned to very pointedly try and see what color Legend’s eyes actually were.

They were purple.

“No, they didn’t call me Vio,” Legend rolled his eyes, pushing Wind out of his face again. “They call me Link, same as any sane person does.”

“We’re sane.” Wind protested.

“Debatable.” The two older heroes deadpanned.

Wind pouted, but let it go, gaze drifting for a moment as he let silence fall over them. Four was staring at Legend in a suspicious manner, eyes blue again, but he didn’t say anything, and the vet didn’t seem keen on saying anything either, instead getting up and walking over to the clothes he had draped across one of the trees. He wasn’t kidding, it looked like a rainbow over there.

“So, if those things belonged to your friends, why do you have them?”

“Only one with a bottomless bag.” Came the clipped reply. “That and I’m the only one who’s likely to need them again.”

“Your friends don’t need clothes?” Four balked.

“No! Of course, they do!” Legend made a face, swatting a hand at Four. “Wild’s the only one who goes around naked, I’ll have you know, and if any of them had done the same they would have been shunned by the whole kingdom.” The vet huffed, voice dropping to a mutter. “What with the fashion laws and all.”

“So, if they already have clothes of their own, what did you need all for this for?” He gestured towards the various garments that Legend was still packing away.

“They’re all enchanted, or otherwise intended for special purposes.” The vet winced. “Hopefully I’ll never need most of them again, but there’s always the chance.”

“Will we ever get to see them?” He watched as Legend stuffed another garment into one of his bags many pockets.

“Hopefully never.” Legend spat.

But when did things ever go Legend’s way?

It was a hat first.

A battle in the forest ended with black blood spattered everywhere, but with Legend and Wild having provided support from the sidelines in the form of arrows flying across the battlefield, injuries were more scarce than normal.

Of course, that could be attributed to the fact that there had only been a few of the black-blooded monsters in the camp they had just destroyed.

As most of them had gathered their weapons and wiped away the blood, Wild had come leaping down from the treetops with Legend following after at a more sedate pace. Wind wondered if that was because of the Vet’s arthritis is because of the huge hat on his head.

“Nice accessories, do some shopping while we were down here fighting?” Wars snarked, huffing a laugh at the vet as Legend’s feet touched the earth again.

Indigo blue snapped at the captain as Legend adjusted the pointed cap. “No time for that when I have you all to keep an eye on.”

Twilight sniggered. “What’s with the hat, Ledge?”

“Yeah!” Wind bounded up to the older hero, eyes wide as he looked at the strange accessory. “Where did you get that?”

“Is that one of the things you got on your last adventure?” Four mused, sparking further excitement in the sailor, if it was, than maybe Legend would actually be willing to tell them more about it!

“Yeah, is it?”

No one addressed the confused stares of the taller heroes as their three shortest members conversed.

“Yeah,” Legend lifted the hat off and brushed at its brim in a clearly fond display; if he even attempted to say anything about hating his adventure again Wind was not going to believe him, not after that smile. “A Kolkiri hat, made to aid archers and help them shoot more arrows. I don’t usually use it, but it helps when you need to take out more than one enemy at once.”

“You could just learn to shoot better.” Wild chuckled, plucking at the hats brim only to have the garment whisked out of reach by a glaring veteran.

“I can shoot well; this just helps me see better because it blocks the freaking sun.”

“Kolkiri you say?” Time mused, stepping forwards to peer at the pointed green cap.

“Sure, you didn’t just steal it off of a witch?” Wars teased.

“No witch could replicate this sort of quality,” And if there wasn’t pride in his voice than Wind would eat his boots. “Not even the finest tailors in all of Hytopia could imitate it, and they’ve tried.” Legend spun the hat in his hands before popping it back on top of his head. “Don’t know the tailor, but what I wouldn’t give to learn their tricks. Kolkiri know what they’re doing, and they do it better than most Hylian craftsmen.”

Time was smirking, and Wind really wanted to know why. “You should see the tunics they can make.”

Legend returned the smirk. “Oh, I have, I own one.”

“As do I,” Their resident old man chuckles. “Although I doubt I could fit in it any longer.”

Wind giggles, trying to imagine Time in the clothes he’s seen on the spirits of the kolkiri, it’s hard, what with how big their leader is.

“Hat might fit you though.” And as the words ring through the air, Legend is already reaching up to pull the brim of his pointed hat over Time’s face. Their leader chuckles, brushing Legend off and adjusting the hat to sit more securely on his head.

Somehow, Time looks more comfortable in the hat than he does in his armor, and even though the two clash terribly, he doesn’t seem to mind, a light smile gracing his features as they set off again.

It’s a few days before Legend brings out another item from his collection of clothes, and when he does, it’s only after the others have drifted off to sleep. Wind would have been sleeping too, but you can only stay awake so long when your mind replays the horrors of the past, and Wind can only watch in silence for so long as giant ocean-monsters attempt to destroy those he loves the most. Tetra’s scream echoes in his own cracking voice as he startles awake.

The stars shine brightly overhead, brighter still as they blur from his tears. Despite what the others might say, or the confident way he tries to convey himself, Bellum frightens him, even now, and everything he had to deal with on that adventure... it weighs heavy on his mind.

A strangles sob escapes him as he sits up to bury his head in his knees, arms wrapped tight around his legs as he tries to shake of the after-effects of the dream.

That’s all it was, after all, just a dream.

Just like the Ocean King, like Lineback, like everything else in that world had been.

It’s just a dream.

“Hey,” Legend’s voice is soft and almost lost in his sobs and the crackling of the fire, but Wind is used to listening for even the softest of sounds in the night; be it due to Aryl having a night-terror –her own dreams aren’t free from their adventure- or someone sneaking around to make trouble. “Sailor, you all good?”

It’s clear he’s not, and he knows that, so Legend really has no business asking, but at the very least he isn’t being told to stop being a baby. “’m okay.” His own voice betrays him and Wind wants to sigh in irritation. Usually, he’d pout and groan at the way his voice cracks, but right now he doesn’t have the emotional or mental strength to do anything about it.

There’s shifting from across the camp, and even though his head is still pressed against his raised knees, he sees a flicker of golden pink in the firelight as Legend crouches down before him.

Thank Hylia the vet doesn’t sit back on his ankles, Wind doesn’t want to know if he’s not wearing shorts under that skirt of his.

“None of that now, what’s eating you?” It’s a weird term, especially coming from Legend, who’s usually so clipped and professional in his speech, and Wind can’t help but huff out a short laugh.

“Nothing,” His hand dashes across his eyes, wiping the tears away, only to have more of them prick at the corners. “Go back to watch, I’m fine.”

“And Twilight is a dog person.” Legend drawls. “Look, if you have an emotional moment or whatever, you’ll be tired as shit when we have to leave in the morning. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel keen on dealing with another Sky.” It’s rough and gruff, but in a way that reminds him of Lineback rather than make him upset.

“I’m fine, just...” He dwells on his next words for a moment. He’s not scared, not really. It’s just the aftershock of a too-real dream about another too-real dream. He’s not really sad either, even if the island is gone now, he’s just... “I’m drained.” He whispers, scrubbing his eyes. “I miss everything back at home but,” He pauses, wondering briefly if Legend could even understand what he’s trying to express. “I guess I miss the things that aren’t there too.”

“Like what?” He doesn’t look up, but he knows the exact expression on Legend’s face; brow raised and mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown.

“Places... people. It’s all just dreams but..” He fiddles with the end of his blanket. “I miss the warmth of them I guess, miss the sea and the islands, even the fake ones, they were so... comforting.” He chuckles, surprising himself with the bitterness that tinges his own voice. “Even if I did spend so much of that time trying not to get killed.”

“Warmth, huh?” Legend hums. There’s a brief pause, one Wind almost takes for Legend rolling his eyes and deciding to leave him to his thoughts, but then there’s a brief rustling and something warm and thick settles over his shoulders as Legend sits at his side. “It’s no pirate uniform, but it still smells like the sea, if that helps at all.”

Wind wants to tease Legend for the sentimentality and love in the action, but when he turns to look at the Vet, his gaze falls instead on the royal blue coat that has been draped around his shoulders.

Too-long sleeves fall to fold at his waist while the rest of the long coat trails and puddles around him, rich, warm fabric blocking out the night chill. It’s a lovely coat, but it’s painfully familiar, and Wind finds himself running his fingers over the stitching and inspecting every detail with a precision that he only ever shows to his swordsmanship and sailing.

His eyes don’t fool him either, the coat is an exact copy of Lineback’s own.

“Where... where did you get this?”

“Like it?” The vet chuckles softly. “Hytopian tailors. It’s a sea-coat, made to aid traveling sailor’s in searching for treasure. Don't ask me how it works though,” A ringed hand waves lazily overhead. “I could never make sense of it all. What matters is that it’s warm, not even the ocean can chill you in that thing, and trust me,” Buck teeth and small canines shouldn’t look so chilling, but Legend’s smile is just that. “It’s tried.”

Wind decides not to push it. There’s no way Legend could know about Lineback, not with the gaps of time and timelines between them. So, instead, he nestles down into the coat, one which bears the promised scent of the sea, with just a hint of smoke and rum to it, and lets his mind drift off again while Legend hums something under his breath.

The vet doesn’t realize he’s humming any less than he realizes Wind is slumping into him, but by the time he does recognize it, Wind is out cold, his head pressed against Legend’s shoulder, the coat still draped over him as he snores softly. Legend doesn’t push down the warmth in his chest as he smiles down at the golden curls, no one will see him anyway. Gnarled fingers decked out with countless rings card through sun-bleached curls as a lilting melody pierces the silence around them, no one will hear it anyway.

In the days to come, Legend allows Wind to don the heavy sea-coat from that night. Warriors makes a comment about poor coordination between fabrics, and while Legend doesn’t seem to disagree, both of the older heroes seem of the opinion that it's for the best he holds onto it, what with the cold and all.

The last switch landed them in the mountains, and while the Hyrule they are in has not yet been confirmed, everyone knows one thing for sure: it’s cold. Wind buries his face in the raised collar of the heavy sea-coat, which, despite being in Legend’s bag for so long and the vet refusing to smoke or sail, much less swig rum, the coat smells of all three, and Wind buries a smile at the thought that maybe Legend didn’t get it new like he’d let on.

It does a good job of keeping him warm though.

He wishes he could say the same for Four.

The poor smithy refuses to be carried, but as snow whips around them as they trek through the knee-high snow, the diminutive smith is left chattering and shivering in their wake.

It really shouldn’t be a surprise that Legend has something to help with that.

Yes, the vet still isn’t wearing pants, but he doesn’t seem too poorly off, no matter how badly the others shiver. He and Wild only share a look and scoff when Warriors asks through chattering teeth how the two of them aren’t freezing.

“You should see the mountains in my Hyrule.” Wild chuckles brightly.

“Done this before, cold is cold, you get used to it.” Legend grins, swinging his fire-rod.

“N-not all of us c-can s-st-stand the c-c-cold.” Four chatters grumpily, sounding startlingly close to the minish he’s shown Wind in the past. “Jer-jerks.”

The concern on the faces of the taller heroes is obvious, but with Twilight’s teeth chattering nearly madly (the rancher's nose is somehow frozen) and Time wrapped as tight as possible in one of Wild’s extra cloaks, it’s clear most of the others don’t have warm things to spare.

They were separated in landing in this world, and even when they had all been pulling themselves together again it had become clear that there was nothing of Wild’s that could even fit the smithy, and not even the blue scarf that trails over his shoulders seems to be doing much good against the freezing winds.

“Hang on a sec.” legend huffs, already turning to rustle through his bag. The coat he pulls out is ridiculously plushy, and in a soft shade of violet that makes Four chuckle past his chattering teeth. The chattering doesn’t last for much longer though, not when shoves the garment over Four’s head like Wind has done to his sister so many times with the sweaters Granny has knit them. The smithy’s blond hair is mused beyond recognition, chunky and flying every which way as he pushes his face out of the plush, but the healthy flush to his cheeks assures the rest of them that he won’t be freezing any time soon.

“I- Oh...” Whatever Four was about to say cuts off as he looks down at himself. The coat is long, but not too long. Where Wild’s shirts would drown the smithy, a coat made for Legend only brushes against the smithy’s ankles.

Legend smirks. “It prevents slipping too.”

“Why aren’t you wearing it then?” Hyrule questions, the Traveler’s cheeks are rosy in the cold, but borrowed clothes from Wild, while also too big, seem to be keeping him warmer.

Legend winces. “It’s a pain to get off.”

“And inconvenience is enough reason to freeze?”

“Do I look cold to you, captain?” Legend snarks, turning an expectant look on Warriors. “Because I certainly don’t feel it.”

“Stop rubbing it in.” The captain huffs, unfortunately too big to borrow from the others, and now highly irritable from the cold. His scarf is still on Four, and if what Legend says is right about the coat, Wars won’t be getting it back for a while, leaving the poor captain to shiver as he clings to another fire-rod.

Four seems comfy enough anyway.

#fluffics #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe legend #linked universe time #linked universe wind #linked universe four #hytopia #triforce heroes #references to the dopples #fic requests

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pinkchanelbag · 3 years

Text

it’s okay; stay

armin arlert x reader

wc: 4k

cw: angst, comfort, pain, childhood flashbacks? armin getting beat up </3 not proofread

note: yes i cried while writing this.

do you remember the days when things were so hopeless that not even he had a way out of it, and all he could do was offer eyes as big as sky-blue plates, and a hand under the table to hold, to anchor you to something when you so badly wanted to drift away. to anchor you to him.

this was how it was, and this was how it continued to be, and as the feeling of impermanence faded, as your bunk bed in the girls’ quarters filled with more personal belongings and you subconsciously scooted backwards from the edge of your seat, stopped standing on tip-toes, you sunk back into your life, and somehow, into armin. as you found more ways to manipulate your daily routine to fit in more time alone with him, you found that you were your most lucid when you were staring down at a pale palm that you held in both hands, tracing the countless ravines of warm skin and looking for patterns or shapes or words. sometimes his fingers twitched when it tickled, and sometimes you’d tell him what word you had spelled out into his flesh and he’d laugh before continuing reading whatever book his nose was so attached to.

the memories move too fast and are too painful. you try your best to maneuver away from the ones that most ache, but each path seems worse than the last.

you’d met him when you were wearing a pale blue dress that stopped at your knees. you only remember this fact because you remember the way it felt as you gripped the fabric close to keep yourself from crying out at the sight of your older brother and his friends kicking at a smaller boy behind a house. you were hidden away after a prompt threat from your brother to go unseen and unheard, because if you interfered or got the bullies caught, he’d make your life an indefinite hell. he’d done it before and he’d do it again, so you stayed out across the road in an alley, your dress turning into a wrinkled wreck between your tiny fingers. there you stayed until the toothless brainless boys had their fill, backing up and shoving shoulders in kudos before running off in a hurry. characteristically, your brother had forgotten to come back for you. you didn’t care. you hated his presence.

a tiny blond heap sputtered and coughed on the floor some distance away. tears sprung to your eyes. you didn’t care. you hated him.

the lump on the floor moaned and rolled over in an attempt at a first step to mobility, which was to no avail as he—the young boy whose scuffed face you now saw—stared up at the sky. it lasted all of two seconds before he gasped and scrambled onto all fours, injuries forgotten as his eyes whipped around the scene of the assault. they landed on something and scurried to it. you narrowed your eyes and watched him dust off a half-wrecked book, sighing and pressing it to his chest. a tear curled over your eye and fell down your chubby cheek. he was a good boy. he laid back against the back of the tall house, and you tucked yourself further down the alley to avoid sighting, but you still watched him, feeling like you’d discovered something sort of very precious.

the next time you saw him was when your mom sent you to the market with a basket and a few coins to buy vegetables for dinner. you were happy to be allowed on your own without the “protection” of your deceptively polite brother. you were confident and unbothered as you took your time to stroll through the vendors. and then you saw him, and some part of you short-circuited. somewhere on the other side of your brain, something launched into overdrive, and you suppose this is what brought your feet forward to stand before him as he eyed a booth of crystals.

“what are you looking at?” you asked dumbly. your voice and presence scared him out of his skin for a good few moments and he froze for a good five seconds before stammering his answer.

“um, i’m looking at, at crystals,” he said. you smiled a little, deciding you liked how he talked. you looked at the table before you, tilting your head curiously.

“why would someone pay for these? couldn’t you just go into the forest and find them yourself?” your tone was incredulous, but when you looked back at armin, he was bewildered to see genuine wonder in your eyes, expecting an answer. an answer from him.

he fiddled with his fingers. “well, these are different, i think. they come from all over the walls and they all have different names and stuff. you wouldn’t be able to find them around here, i think.”

you nodded in comprehension, again looking at the assortment before bending down and pointing to a particular one.

“i like this one,” you said, suddenly sheepish. you clasped your hands to the handle of your basket and looked down.

“that’s called amethyst,” he said shyly, eyeing the deep purple rock with white flecks as it sparkled in the sun. his eyes shifted to you and stayed there for a few seconds before he decided what to do next.

“i’m armin,” he said, and you looked up to see a small hand extended to you. your momentary hesitation had him stuttering, “um, my grandpa said it’s polite to shake someone’s hand when you meet them.”

you really smiled this time, and armin smiled with you. you put your hand in his.

“i’m y/n.”

even at your fresh age, you knew that what you found in armin was different. even when he introduced you to his friends eren and mikasa, who welcomed you without reserve and taught you about love different from that which was familial, compulsory, you knew armin was like no other. you were too young to make sense of it, but it felt like in some way you’d been friends all along but hadn’t met yet; as though it was only a matter of time before you met or maybe you’d met before and forgotten. a ridiculous notion, but you were young, and happy.

things were wonderful.

until, weeks later, as you trudged behind your brother and a few of his friends, who were bored and lazy for the day, you smacked into your brother’s back by accident, not having been looking in front of you. he barely acknowledged you, instead bumping you off his shoulders as he and his friends pointed at a grounded nest of baby birds. interested, you stood on tip toes and peaked over your brother’s shoulder.

“y/n?”

you froze at the soft, questioning voice that called on you from your left. of course it was him, this you didn’t need to look to confirm, but you did anyway. his face sunk in a way that tore at your heart, but still he looked at you with questioning eyes that fell between you and the bullies you now stood amidst, asking for an explanation.

you couldn’t give him one, but you mouthed an “i’m sorry” before armin gathered his wits and silently backtracked his steps before the boys saw him and found something to satiate their boredom.

you didn’t see him for ages, half because he was never around and half because of the shame that paralyzed you. how selfish of you, to accept armin’s friendship when you’d been a person who enabled his suffering?

it wasn’t until almost an entire week later that you saw eren by the river near the market. he sat with a bored expression on his face, head thrown back. he was the most prickly of the trio, and even though you were sure he wouldn’t be pleasant to you, your feet sped towards him.

“eren!” you called, but when his eyes met yours, they turned cold, and immediately he got up to leave. “please wait! please! let me explain!” you stopped a few feet away from him, and he looked over his shoulder at you, and the look on his face made you crumble slightly.

“there’s nothing to explain. if those are the type of the people you hang around, then we don’t want anything to do with you. do you even know half the things they’ve done to armin?” he sneered.

“i do,” you said quietly. eren scoffed, just about ready to leave, until he heard the next bit. “…because they do it to me too.”

from there on, really, it was easy to win back eren’s loyalty, as he had barred you from seeing armin until you put some sort of stop to the abuse he suffered at the hands of your brother. he had said that it wasn’t enough that you were helpless, and that you needed to find a way to help armin out of this, because you’re in a unique position to help and because that’s what friends do. and he was right, and you did it.

on one of those evenings when your brother’s irritating snores didn’t fill the room you shared, you sat upright in bed until the boy himself attempted to sneak back through the window—he was about as subtle as a loosed horse.

he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw your moon-illuminated figure.

“what are you doing!?” he whisper-yelled. your voice was small enough that you didn’t need to whisper, and this way, you were able to fein strength in your voice. part of you thought about how maybe the power was there all along, but your passive nature put not use to it until you made your own friends. armin introduced you to courage, you realized, and you couldn’t help but smile in the dark.

“i know that you sneak out to wreck the farm fences next to jonah’s house,” you said. even in the dark, you could sense his hackles rise.

“so?” he replied, daring you to say the words he thought you might.

“pa said if you did one more bad thing he’d send you to uncle’s ranch to work for the entire summer.” you saw his shoulders tense at perhaps the only thing that scared him.

“there’s something i want from you…”

“and?” he said, seething.

“…and if you don’t do it, i’ll tell mama and pa all the bad things you’ve been doing.”

—

“this really isn’t necessary…” his soft voice spoke, and your heart ached a little at hearing it. eren shushed him while mikasa stood silent as usual, and you stood some distance away from them and waited.

it wasn’t long before your brother’s gang came trudging down the path before the four of you. you could see your brother angrily muttering at one of the other boys who looked displeased. when they spotted you and the others, they made a small ruckus of shoving and incredulous sounds, but your brother had them under control in a moment before looking in front of him.

his eyes met yours first, and you saw the hatred. for once, you didn’t care, and even returned it gracefully, hands clasped in front of you and shoulders tall. he held your gaze for only a few moments longer before conceding and looking at the trio that stood in the middle of the path. eren and mikasa stood in front of armin, but not in his field of vision, ready to defend him. but it wasn’t necessary. after a few moments, your brother shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded begrudgingly, aggressively, at armin, without meeting his eyes. armin’s chest seemed to deflate slightly with relief, tension in his fists gone at the sight of his bully surrendering.

and then they left.

and as soon as they did, armin pushed past eren and came towards you with a smile. you spoke the words that had been close to bursting for the past week, that you wanted to say a million times over to him if it meant he could believe them to be true.

“i’m sorry,” you blurted, and armin blinked in slight surpise before he made eye contact with you, now right in front of you.

“it’s okay,” he said. the words were slow and soft as if he wanted them to materialize in the air for you to see. you couldn’t help it when your eyes teared up as you stared at his blue ones, so impossibly untainted and unnatural in their own right, different than the river or grass fields or pretty crystals or anything at all. for a moment you had a silly thought about all the crazy things armin had told you about the outside, none of them making sense and sounding so supernatural that they surely couldn’t be real, and for a moment you thought that if somehow they were real, these eyes, these impossible orbs were made from the same stuff. supernatural stuff, stuff of nonsense, and that they belonged out there and not in here.

and then he offered you his hand, and you cleared away the mess of over-mature thinking by resolving that he was here now, and you’d be by his side while you had him. for as long as you could.

you look upon him now. you look at supernatural eyes that peer down at mikasa, quiet, powerful mikasa, holding her back from the sound of boot hitting bone. his eyes tell her that this is what needs to happen.

you stand close to the wall, not innocent in the eyes of the soldiers around you but not as guilty as the titan shifter who sits on the floor with blood seeping into his mouth, a disappointed captain before him.

you haven’t been restrained—yet—because of eren’s claim that he more or less forced your hand, as he had done to everyone else when he planned his scheme. it wasn’t entirely untrue. eren told you what he hoped to do all that time ago, because he needed your help. he wouldn’t go to mikasa because of her priority for his safety nor to armin for his priority on peaceful resolve. eren knew you were neither emotionally attached to his wellbeing nor against necessary violence. you didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to act as a spy who gathered information for eren on his best means of communication, the weakest link the command for him to access, and all other needs. but eren told you he’d do it whether you joined him or not, and he wouldn’t ask anyone else, and that having a second hand to facilitate his intelligence would drastically increase his chances of seeing his plan through, therefor the chances of the survey corps making it out of this alive.

no one has come to talk to you yet, but you know that you’ll be dealt with, and you could already predict the questions. when they ask you why you didn’t find another way, you won’t have an answer. you’re sure armin would’ve found a better way and convinced eren of it, or that mikasa would’ve never allowed him to sneak out like he did. but you’re not either of those people, and so when they ask, you won’t have an answer.

for now, all you can do is memorize the faces and figures of your friends whom you haven’t seen in so long. you note mikasa’s hair that’s even shorter than before. the titan markings beneath armin’s eyes. eyes that you avoid desperately because they hurt to look at. they’re just as entrancing, but it’s different now. he finally made it outside the walls. and all that used to be nonsense isn’t anymore. now it’s just the way the world goes, vast and cruel and sometimes beautiful, and those blue catastrophes fit right in.

when he stood at the door of the aircraft and didn’t wait longer than seconds, mere seconds, before he reached out a hand to take his best friend’s, the man who’d turned him into a killer. a crushing truth for you to realize, and as such you can’t even bear to think of armin’s own feelings about it. and yet, he looked him in the eyes. and yet, he took eren’s hand, and in the way only soulbound people can, he spoke words into eren’s heart that only they two could know.

the knowledge of this alone is so much to bare that for the next night and day, you don’t dare go near them.

almost twenty-four hours pass and still all you can do is stare ahead at food rations on the table before you. the aircraft kitchen is small and has exactly three tables lined up for seating. two soldiers sit at the table furthest from you and talk in quiet murmurs while you sit alone, unable to eat.

the door opens and before you can even command your sluggish mind to take note of it, armin is sitting beside you. once you realize it, your whole body tenses. your head instinctually moves to look in his direction, but you stop it before it can, casting a sidelong look in his direction. there’s a book in his hand that he places on his other side. from your peripheral, he doesn’t look at you either. he stares ahead, but you can’t see his face to read what he wants.

“i’ve given you space.”

your entire chest tightens at the sound of his voice. he’s a man now, but somehow the soft timbre is as clear as it was so that “i’ve given you space” sounds not so very different from “i’m looking at crystals.”

“i thought maybe that’s what you needed. but now i don’t know. now i feel like you’re just avoiding me.”

breathing becomes near impossible. you watch you own chest rise and fall heavily and wonder how you can still feel no air in your throat. you can’t look at him. you don’t dare.

“y/n.” don’t say that, you think, the first thought you’ve managed since he got the jump on you. he turns to you then, and still you don’t look. “are you avoiding me?”

you tell yourself you won’t look, won’t talk, won’t acknowledge he’s there, but as soon as he asks you the question, you feel a reply formulating. you don’t have the ability to refuse him. you’re at his mercy, even if it’ll break you.

“i don’t know how to be around you,” you say in a choppy, breathless whisper. armin leans in to hear it, and now you can feel his breath, smelling of brown sugar and fruits from his lunch. at feeling him so close to you after so many months, you suck in your top lip as if it’ll keep you together.

“why not?” and he’s hurt. you can hear it. all his hurt seeps out his pours and all the holes in his body so that even if you don’t look into his face, you can feel it stabbing at your heart. guilt. guilt.

“i’ve caused you pain.” the words are too much, and your chin trembles uncontrollably. the door opens to let in two more soldiers who turn into the kitchen and begin rummaging through a drawer. you bow your head to hide the evident grief on your face. armin breathes onto your cheek and thinks and thinks.

“eren made you do it, y/n. it wasn’t your fault.”

you shake your head lightly.

“‘should’ve done more.” the two soldiers mull over their options of snacks for awhile.

“y/n.” how you wish he’d stop saying your name. “y/n, look at me.” deviantly, you shut your eyes, stiffening your face as much as you possibly can, because you can’t hold on much longer, not when he keeps pushing you like this. not in front of other soldiers, you beg him in your mind. and maybe in a way he understands, because it’s not until the pair in the kitchen have selected a food and walked out that armin raises a hand to your chin and delicately guides your head to face him. you suck in a breath and squeeze your mouth shut to hold onto the anguish inside you, and then you’re looking at him. the first of your tears falls when you see the concerned, pained set of his brow, his soft lips downturned like a sad pup. his eyes. they burn into you. they wither the fabric of your soul.

“y/n,” he says again, letting go of your chin. you know he can’t find words to say, because there are no words. no words for all that’s happened and all you’ve done. rather than speaking, he does something much worse.

he reaches into your lap where your hands are clasped by the fingers in an iron grip. panic fills your features as you shake your head fearfully at him, but he doesn’t exercise mercy on you as he takes your two hands into one of his, warm and scarred and you can’t breathe.

he pulls your hands to his own lap, and in a stroke of—all you can call it—madeness, he delicately pulls your hands apart and places one of his own on his lap, palm facing the ceiling. he settles one of your hands on his palm and nestles the other one underneath, as if guiding you to hold one of his hands with yours. immediately, you understand the words he’s delivered to your heart. your face crumbles, shoulders sag. you stare into his palm and trace shaky fingers across ridges where beneath skin lies bones. you feel each line that builds to make peculiar images and spell all kinds of words, that forms the illustration of a boy filled to the brim with pain and somehow exhuming only love. a beaten boy lying behind a house and staring into the sky, a boy whose eyes don’t really resemble anything at all because maybe they’re unearthly, an entire world unto themselves, a boy whose mere existence pains you because you can’t take his pain away and he’s far too pure to have endure so much. a good boy.

tears drip onto your pants and take over your cheeks in silent anarchy, because you can’t take whatever it is this boy is made out of. because he offers his hand to you and still meets your eyes after everything, and because his palm spells forgiveness.

your eyes find his, and say there in silent grief as your hands touch. his gaze is calm, peaceful, assuring. in it you see refuge. redemption. you think that maybe your soul can take it. you bare all of yourself to him in one look, but you trust him completely.

after some time, the two soldiers remaining get up and dispose of their dishes in the sink, casting side glances at the colossal titan and the rogue soldier who hold hands on the eating table. they take their leave.

you try to put it into words. and of course, of course there are none.

“armin,” you breathe. you inhale sharply, because finally it comes. “oh, armin…” you sob, slowly descending into his chest. his arms come around you, and he cradles the back of your head and holds your upper body against himself. you grip his shoulders for dear life and lay your face into his neck, finally, finally, weeping.

“i’m sorry,” you choke. your tears are hot and wet on his neck.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “it’s okay.” you shake your head as if to say it’s not and he runs a hand up and down your back as if to say it is. i promise it is.

he reaches behind him to pull one of your hands off his shoulder and hold it in his own, bringing them to his chest. your close contact makes it so both your hands press against both your ribcages at once, and astonishingly, you can hear two heartbeats.

“armin,” your body shakes in his embrace.

he squeezes your hand hard enough to hurt, but you squeeze back just as tight. as if to say to you, stay with me, and as if to tell him, i will. i will.

#this fic was written over the duration of like 2 weeks so sorry if it’s choppy!#nia.txt #nia.armin #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #eren yeager #attack on titan season 4 #eren yaeger headcanons #attack on titan spoilers #eren jeager x reader #armin arlert #armin arlet x reader #armin smut #armin headcanons #armin x reader #armin arlert imagine #armin attack on titan #armin aot

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

Secrets & Lies

Your brother's best friend has been asked to pick you up from college after your brother's car broke down - you've not met Jim before now, but you were keen to get to know him more.

Taglist: @queenshelby @margoo0 @cloudofdisney @peakyscillian @ntmynouis

Warnings - smut.. a lot.. outdoor sex.. virgin reader

A request from @noctvrnalmoth

*************************************************

"Thank you so much for the ride home, Jim, really appreciate it." You smiled at the driver as you pulled up outside your parents house.

"No problem at all y/n, it was nice to finally meet you, your brother has told me so much about you." You and Niall were really close, despite the 10year age gap. When you were younger you didn't get along at all, but when your parents divorced three years ago, shortly before your 15th birthday, you'd moved in with him and his girlfriend Ilona and become closer, finding you had more in common than you thought. Your mother and you never got along, your father couldn't take you in as he worked away so much, but your older brother welcomed you with open arms, without question.

"I don't understand why he's never introduced us before, I've met all his other friends?"

"Yeah, strange. But at least I've met you now." He smiled, making you blush. There was no mistaking he was very attractive, but he was your brother's friend - with those eyes and that floppy brown hair, he had the pick of anyone he wanted, what would he want with an inexperienced 17year old like you?

"I guess I'll see you at your birthday party, right?" You smiled again, your brother had arranged a house party for your 18th birthday this weekend. Your parents were no longer around - mum had packed up and gone to live with her toyboy in London, your father had turned to drink following the divorce and sadly passed away following a binge, driving his car into the wall of the local supermarket.

You nodded and got out of the car, feeling a little giddy but holding it together enough not to let it show.

The party was in full swing - your 18th, surrounded by those you loved the most. Only Niall was blood family, but you considered your combined group of friends to be your adopted family - you'd all known each other for years, and you adored them. Except Jim. You couldn't work out why your brother had never introduced you to him before, but you'd met now, and you were excited to get to know him better.

"Happy Birthday y/n," his thick Irish accent pulled you from your daydream as you turned to face him. He kissed your cheek and handed you a small gift bag. Thanking him, blushing, you placed it on the kitchen counter with the others and you each poured yourselves a drink from the punch bowl Ilona had made that afternoon.

"You didn't have to, thank you so much Jim."

"Can't let your 18th birthday go by without a gift now, can I? Enjoying the party?"

"It's amazing - I think a few of my friends are a touch worse for wear already!" You laughed watching your friend Becky try to walk to the bathroom - looking remarkably like a duck with a limp...

"Yep, she's not gonna feel good in the morning! You seem to be stone cold sober? It's your birthday!"

"I'm not a big drinker and I know my limits - slow and steady, wake up fresh as a daisy." You winked at him and his lips turned up slightly to smile at you.

"You like slow and steady then?" He leaned forwards to whisper in your ear and you felt an unrecognisable feeling in the pit of your stomach, it felt like a hot coil turning and you couldn't help but bite your lip. Jim smiled at the reaction he gave you, and winked. "I'll see you later, y/n." What the hell was that? Was that flirting? Was he coming on to you?

"Don't even think about it y/n..." You brothers voice suddenly snapped you out of your daydream. You took a deep breath and smiled.

"Think about what, Niall?"

"He's off limits. He's 29 in a few weeks y/n, waaay too old for you!!" You scoffed.

"How olds Ilona, Niall? Isn't she nearly 35?" You giggled.

"You're barely 18, y/n, he's pushing 30! No way am I letting him anywhere near my baby sister." You rolled your eyes.

"I'm not a baby anymore, I'm an adult now - a proper one! It's all official n shit.." you smirked. You'd been older than your years since the divorce, but you loved playing childish around your older brother.

"Y/n please - you deserve so much better than him okay? He's not worthy of you."

"And why not Niall? Huh? Give me one good reason why not."

"All he's after is a fuck, and a fuck off. He'll just break your heart, okay? He's never held down a serious relationship with anyone, he doesn't know how." He was whispering now, so no one else could hear him. "He's had more one night stands than I've had hot dinners, and I'm not prepared to let my sister become another of his conquests." You looked at Niall, he was serious. A look of worry etched all over his face.

"And this is why we've never met?"

"Exactly why. You're a young, impressionable, attractive girl y/n - you deserve the world on a plate. All he can offer you is likely to be something you'd need antibiotics to get rid of." You chuckled at his humour.

"Okay, okay... I'll keep my distance. I promise."

The party was drawing to a natural close, lots of drunk people but all in good spirits - dozens of cheek kisses, hugs, and happy birthday wishes later, it was you, Niall, and Ilona left at the end. Niall and Ilona were already snoring on the sofa. You sat in silence watching the movie Niall had chosen before they fell asleep drifting yourself, when the door suddenly knocked you awake. Groaning, you made your way to the door and were surprised to see Jim stood in the doorway.

"Sorry y/n.. left my phone!" You let him in to look for it.

"Want me to ring it?" You offered, taking your phone from your jeans pocket. He dialled his number and listened for the ring. Hearing it in the kitchen, he went to pick it up before coming back to you in the hallway.

"You're a star, thanks y/n! I'll see you soon, yeah?" He handed you your phone back and you couldn't help but feel the electricity surging through you when his fingers brushed yours.

"Get home safe, yeah?" You opened the door to let him out. He maintained eye contact with you as he walked out the door. "Player..." You mumbled. "Hot player... Damn fine, sexy player.. but still a player." You made a promise to your brother and you were determined to keep it.

Leaving college the following Monday, your phone pinged with a message.

"Hey, great party on Saturday - hope you weren't too hungover the next day! Jim xx" you heart lurched.. how did he - ah wait, the missing phone... Probably used that trick dozens of times. You deleted the message and put your phone back in your bag. You won't play me, Jim, you thought to yourself, suddenly smiling at the control you were taking in this situation. It was clear he was attracted to you, and you couldn't deny you were attracted to him too - but there was no way you were going to let him fuck and run with you. You'd never gone that far with anyone before, your first time wasn't going to be a one night stand.

**********************************************

3 years later....

"Niall!!" Your brother was waiting on the platform for you with Ilona and their newborn baby. You were so excited to see them - you'd been in England at university and you were finally home, your degree finished, and now meeting your niece for the first time. Your brother swept you up in a massive hug and Ilona held up baby Emily in her arms. You placed your bag on Niall's shoulder smirking, and took the tiny baby from Ilona, cooing over her.

"Oh she's beautiful... She's just perfect..." Choking back a sob as the little one gripped your little finger in her tiny hand. Ilona wiped a tear from her eye.

"So glad to have you home!! Come on, let's get back to the house and you can tell us all about it!"

"So how's things been here?" You asked once you'd settled back at home, your brother pouring you a glass of wine. Ilona feeding Emily in the armchair in the window.

"Same old same old - although it appears your old crush has settled down nicely now!" You choked on your wine as your brother smirked at you.

"What crush??"

"Oh come on y/n, everyone knew you fancied Jim, it was only because your brother put a veto on him that you didn't act on it!" Ilona chuckled. You felt your heart sink a little at the news.

"Settled down? I thought he was the biggest playboy in Dublin?"

"Apparently he's put it all behind him - been with Danielle for about 8 months now, seems to be going well." Niall eyed you, watching for a reaction. He knew the two of you had exchanged texts years ago, your better judgement getting away from you after your initial reluctance at first. Nothing more than a few flirty texts, as you'd left soon after to attend Leeds University studying Law. You'd bagged yourself a new job at a law firm back home in Dublin following your outstanding Degree results, and started the following week. The messages between you had dried up after you'd left home, clearly he'd lost interest now you weren't as physically accessible as before.

"Good for him. I'm glad he's sorted himself out." You smiled, hiding the sadness in your eyes as best you could. Regardless of the time that had passed and the certainty that he would have broken your heart had you let him, you still held a torch for him deep down inside.

Niall knew you better than to pry further, so he left it alone, and you spent the rest of the day chatting about your uni experience, and cuddling your baby niece. You'd be living back with Niall until you had enough saved to buy your own place - they'd left your room as it was before you'd left, but they'd need it for the baby before long.

Your girlfriends were so excited to finally have you home, they'd arranged drinks at Murphy's Bar in the city centre that evening to welcome you back. Walking in, they all screamed your name and you were suddenly drowning in hugs from all 4 of them. After settling in a booth, you were all catching up on the last 3 years - you hadn't come home much while you were away as in between classes you'd been working as a clerk at a law firm building your experience. Time off had been limited, but you were home now, looking forward to making up for lost time.

"Oh you will not believe who's just walked in here..." Your friend Kim nodded at the bar a few hours after you'd arrived. Stood at the bar, you noticed his dark hair first, then his eyes when he turned round to lean against the bar, his beer being poured. He didn't look happy, but you still felt a warm glow in your stomach as he suddenly caught you looking over. You saw him take a breath and smile warmly at you, and that glow burned a little brighter. You made your way over to him, smiling gingerly and he gave you a warm kiss on the cheek.

"Long time y/n, how've you been?" He smiled before asking the bartender to add your next drink to his tab.

"Busy, finished uni last week and I start my new job next week so catching up with everyone this weekend. How are you? I hear you're doing well, with Danielle now, right?" He looked to the floor.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess? Ilona said you guys were practically married!" You laughed, but he didn't.

"Yeah. So where are you working?" You chatted about your new job as a paralegal in Holland & Taylor's Law Firm on Dublin's high street, and he smiled, eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly, he ordered 2 shots for the pair of you, and raised a toast. "To you, y/n, and the success you absolutely deserve." You were already fairly tipsy, but you never refused a shot. You both knocked it back and he ordered another two.

"Jim I think I've had enough, but thank you..." Jim smiled at you.

"Still know your limits huh? Fair enough, I'll drink yours." You saw pain in his eyes again.

"Jim stop.. what's going on? Are you okay?" He knocked both shots back.

"Since when did you care? Fucked off to the UK, didn't even tell me you were going, just did one. I thought we were onto something, I wanted to get to know you better, then one morning poof! You were gone?"

"Jim come on, it was a few texts! We had a cheeky flirt - no doubt I was one of a dozen girls in your phone, it was years ago! Come on now?" He laughed, the drink taking a hold and he stumbled slightly. You turned and headed back to your friends at the booth.

"Girls, carry on without me, I'll catch up later. I need to make sure he gets home safe..." They knew better than to argue - you'd always had a soft spot for someone in need of help. They nodded and headed to the next bar, you'd catch them later once you'd got Jim home. "Come on," you said, hooking an arm under his and wrapping his arm over your shoulder.

As the air hit you both, you felt him stand next to you.

"I'm sorry I snapped... I didn't... I'm sorry." He sat on a bench by the taxi rank, sobering up.

"Hey it's me who should be sorry Jim. I should have stayed in touch, it was just so busy with uni and work.. but I'm home now yeah? We can catch up?" A taxi pulled up outside the bar and Jim stood, making his way to get in.

"My head's a fucking mess y/n.." He paused, standing in the open door of the cab.

"Jim? What's happened?" Without thinking, you found yourself getting in the car with him as Jim gave the driver his address.

"Found out she was fucking around with her colleague. She doesn't know I caught them. Went to her flat this afternoon, finished work early, and saw them upstairs through the window, all over each other, bending her over the bed I fucked her in last night." He grimaced at the memory of it. "This is karma, isn't it? For all those times I screwed around years ago... Fucking deserve it I guess." You noticed a tear falling down his cheek and you took his hand gently.

"Jim, no one deserves this.. yes you played around when you were younger but no more than any other single lad in Dublin!"

"Yeah I wasn't always single when it happened y/n. I was a dick, a complete dick. I'm not destined to be happy, and that's fine. I can live with it. Clearly better suited to being an eternal bachelor eh?" The taxi pulled up outside the flat he shared with another friend, and you helped him out the car and up the stairs, telling the taxi driver you'd be back in 2 minutes once you'd made sure Jim was inside safe.

His arm over your shoulder felt nice, you couldn't deny that, and you both staggered up the steps while he fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

"Thanks for taking me home y/n.. really appreciate it. I'm sorry I'm a wreck."

"Hey it's fine okay? Let's just get you inside, yeah? Get to bed and you'll be fine." He paused after opening the door and you felt your cheeks burn. He was definitely sober now, but his eyes were burning into yours. Without thinking, you leaned forwards and caught his lips in your own, before pulling back quickly. He caught your hips and pulled you back against him, pulling you inside as you kicked the door closed behind you. You tried to pull away, but your body was screaming for him - three long years of fantasising about this moment, you couldn't stop now even if you wanted to. Crashing onto the sofa, he pulled you into his lap, hands roaming up your back as he pulled away from the kiss quickly.

"Y/n, do you want me to stop?" You shook your head.

"Don't you dare.. but..." He held back slightly. But?

"You okay?"

"Danielle..."

"I've already sent her a text telling her to go to hell and her fuck buddy too. It's over, y/n." He ran his fingers through your hair.

"Okay.. but.. don't laugh okay?" He lifted you off his lap and sat you on the sofa next to him.

"I promise."

"I'm.. I've never.. I'm still a virgin Jim..." His eyes widened in shock.

"Wow.. really? But you're beautiful y/n... No one has ever.." you blushed, feeling embarrassed at his compliment.

"Just never got round to it I guess... Work and uni.. busy.. few dates here and there but I never really took a shine to anyone enough for them to be my first.."

"We should stop... It isn't that I don't want you, I do, but not like this.."

"I want you Jim... It's always been you.. since that day in the car? I've never wanted anyone else.. I sound like a crazy stalker don't I," you rolled your eyes and laughed, making your way to stand and leave. "I should get back, my friends are waiting. I'll see you soon yeah?" He watched you move to the door and pulled your hand so you fell back onto the sofa with him.

"Your brother will kill us both for this..." He moaned into your mouth as you kissed him, back in his lap, you could feel how hard he was under your legs.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?" He chuckled at your response. This was going to be fun. You teased, grinding your hips against his and stood up, leaving him speechless on the sofa. "My numbers the same - call me, yeah?" He nodded, watching your body sway out the door.

********************************

He picked you up from work Friday afternoon, around a week later. Your texts becoming increasingly heated over the last few days, you were excited to jump in the car. You felt like a giddy teenager again, sneaking round behind your brother's back.

"Where did you tell him you were going?" Jim asked as he pulled away, heading towards the hotel on the outskirts of Dublin.

"Said I was staying at a friend's house in Cork for the weekend - he doesn't have her number, it's a 'new' friend I've invented that I met at uni. We're safe for a couple of days." You felt nervous. Excited, but still nervous. The text exchanges between you making it clear exactly what you both wanted, and when he said he'd take you away for the weekend, you had been online and bought something especially for the occasion - wearing it underneath your smart work clothes.

"Sounds perfect - you okay? You're sure you wanna do this? It's not too late y/n.."

"Shut up and drive, Jim."

Pulling outside the hotel you gasped. It was beautiful.. out in the sticks, completely secluded, you couldn't wait to get inside. The room was laid out beautifully, and the view from the window went on for miles - green countryside, the flowers in the grounds blooming, farm animals off to the distance.. idyllic. He placed your bags in the corner and walked over to you, snaking his arms round your waist from behind.

"You look amazing..." He pressed his lips against your neck as you tilted your hair back, pushing your backside against his hardening erection. Considering your inexperience, you seemed to know exactly what you were doing - it's like your body was taking over. He pushed forwards against you, letting out a soft growl.

"I promise I'll take it slow y/n.. so gentle.. I've wanted you for years, I'm not gonna mess this up now.." you turned your body round to face him.

"I trust you - I do. I'm just nervous.." he kissed your worries away and pulled you down with him onto the chair into his lap. "I want to to have me, right here, right now... Please Jim..." You ground your hips against him, and he gasped at the friction. You stood up, and pulled the wrap-around dress you were wearing off, letting it fall to the floor. You smiled as his expression changed, seeing you stood in the lacy, navy blue lingerie, complete with thigh high stockings. He pulled you back into his lap and kissed you again, this time his hands roaming over your breasts slowly, moving down lower across your hips, and over your toned thighs. He looked up at you, before teasing his fingers over the lace thing covering your burning core.

"Can I?" He questioned, still in shock that you'd chosen him to do this. You nodded, lifting yourself up slightly to grant him easier access. He slipped a finger between your wet lips, bringing some moisture up to circle around a bundle of nerves at the top - you shuddered when he found it, and gasped when he put pressure on it.

"Relax.. this will feel good, I promise.." he noticed your tension and realised just how inexperienced you were - this was all new to you, all of it... He continued circling with his fingers as you rocked on his hand, his fingers driving you insane.

"This... Jim... Oh god that feels good... What... Oh...." You had no control now, his fingers circling a little harder as you threw your head backwards gasping for air.

"You're gonna cum y/n... Let it happen, just relax baby..." You gasped again, feeling an unfamiliar burning coil in the pit of your stomach. Rocking your hips involuntarily against his hand, you felt it. A white hot release, accompanied by a loud cry from your lips as your breath caught in your throat. You felt your core soak him, and blushed as he brought his now wet hand back up to lick the juices from them.

"You taste good baby.. I'm getting a first hand taste of this later.." your breath returning to normal now, you lifted your still pulsing body off his lap and sank to the floor between his knees.

"How about we take care of this first?" You pulled his jeans down, he lifted his body up to help and you bit your lip as his hard cock sprung out from them.

"It'll be fine y/n... Trust me?" You nodded, before he took your hand to wrap it around the base of his shaft, before moving it up and down slowly. You felt your core twitch again as he moaned gently, now releasing your hand to let you carry on.

"Do you want me to go faster?" He nodded down at you, and you tightened your grip slightly, moving your hand up and down a touch quicker. A flash of inspiration, and you suddenly moved your mouth over his cock taking him by surprise.

"Fuck y/n... Oh god..." You were doing something right... his balls twitched as you rolled them around your hand slowly, your mouth sucking lightly on his cock. "Harder, y/n..." You complied and took him down your throat a little further, sucking a little harder. His fingers in your hair now, guiding your head up and down. "That's it... This is so good but y/n.. if you carry on it ends here babe..." You smiled removing him from your mouth. He pulled you down on top of him again.

"I want you to control this - it's yours for the taking y/n... Reaching down to his jeans pocket, he grabbed a condom. Pulling it over his cock, he lifted your hips over him and eased you down slowly. "Go slow... Take your time okay.. stop when you need to.." you felt him enter you slowly as you gently brought your hips down. Pausing every few seconds as you adjusted to his size. You suddenly stopped, feeling a barrier...

"I need to break past this, okay? Relax for me..." Bringing a hand back to your clit, he rubbed gently as he spoke softly. "Relax... You feel so good y/n... Wrapped round me... I'm gonna make you feel so good..." Without warning he thrust his hips up taking your breath away, and you fell onto him taking him fully inside you. He held you close as you caught your breath, the pain beginning to subside, replaced by a full and pleasurable warmth inside you.

"Move those hips against me y/n... Like we're dancing..." You did as he asked and gasped at the feeling of pleasure coursing through you. Every movement of yours met by a gentle thrust up from him, making you moan against him.

"This... Fuck this feels good Jim..." Your hips moved faster now as he leaned forwards slightly to kiss the base of your throat, his hands roaming over your still-covered breasts under the lace bra.

"Need more of you..." He stood up, lifting you off him and carrying you to the bed, laying you down on your back and spreading your legs wide. "I'm gonna fuck you y/n.. just like you wanted..." Your core spasmed at his words, fuck this was turning you on... He moved over you and entered you again, this time harder. He brought one of your legs up against his chest and rocked his hips back and forth. You moaned loudly, hands gripping the headboard behind you as that feeling coiled up again inside. He could feel it too, and brought his thumb down to massage your clit hard. Stars now - shit you swore you even saw a fucking unicorn at one point - your orgasm washing over you as you came hard against him, his fingers and cock taking you to highs you'd never been to before but desperately wanted to see again.

"Fuck y/n...." He suddenly stilled, panting your name as his own climax overtook him, filling the condom inside you. Slipping out, disposing of it, he lay down next to you and pulled you close to him.

"That was amazing Jim.... Thank you..."

"It gets easier y/n.. next time will be better.." you smiled, better than that?? Now you were intrigued..

"I want to experience it ALL with you... Show me everything... Show me what I've been missing..." You looked up at him as you lay on his chest.

"Everything? You sure you can cope with that?" You nodded. "Buckle up baby, we're not leaving this room all weekend..."

********************************

He was bringing out a side of you you didn't know existed - and you loved it. The thrill of the secret, the excitement of the fact no one knew but the two of you.. it was a constant turn on for you. He'd taken you away for sex-filled weekends away, where he'd introduced you to different positions, different toys, bringing you both a new level of climax every time. He stunned you with his stamina, often making you cum at least three times before he did.

Your brother had invited him and a few others round for drinks and a games night one evening, the first time you'd been in each others company around other people since your first encounter six months ago. You'd spoken about making your relationship public a few times, but the opportunity never arose. You'd have to really hold back tonight if you were to keep your feelings for each other a secret.

After winning against him in Monopoly for the second time after he demanded a rematch, you headed to the kitchen to top your drink up. He followed a minute later.

"This is fucking impossible y/n... You know how many times I've wanted to bend you over that table?" He sneaked up from behind and breathed in your ear, pressing himself against your back. You bit your lip and pushed your hips against him, before turning to kiss him quickly before anyone saw you.

"You'll have to wait til this weekend Jim... Only another week..."

"I don't think I can wait much longer... Fuck I want you so bad..."

"Drink up. I've only had one. You're drunk, and you need a ride home, don't you now?" He smiled, getting the idea. He knocked his drink back and staggered into the living room

"I think I've had enough lads, beers gone straight to my head! Should've had food before coming over..." He was a cracking actor, you thought, almost convinced you!

"I'll drive him home, a taxi will cost a fortune and I've only had one. I'll be back soon okay?" Your brother eyed you suspiciously but you just smiled and guided a 'drunk' Jim out the house to your car.

"When are you moving out y/n? This sneaking around is getting really tricky...

"I get the keys next month, not long now and we'll have our own space to do as we please yeah?"

"Pull over..." He growled, and you pulled into a quiet side road leading to the beach in the distance. Leaning over to kiss you, he placed a hand over your thigh, parting it slightly before gripping you hard under your skirt between your legs causing you to gasp.

"Here??"

"No, keep driving until we're at the beach... About time we had sex in the dunes..."

"What? I'm not going there with you now, it's the middle of winter!!" Despite your protest, you still found yourself driving to the dunes anyway, his hand still between your legs, then pushing past your underwear to tease you as you drove. You tried to focus on the road ahead, but his fingers were making it difficult...

"Wanna make you scream my name on the sand baby..." Was the car getting hotter?

Rocking your hips against him as he thrust up to meet you, you found yourself riding him hard on the sand, gasping and moaning with each thrust.

"That's it... Ride it... Come on..." You paused for a second.

"What's wrong?" He held your legs and questioned softly.

"My legs are freezing!!!" You both laughed.

"Do you wanna stop?"

"God no..." Your hips moved again riding him faster this time - you needed this to end quickly before frostbite set in. "I'm gonna cum Jim.... Do it with me..."

"Cum on my cock y/n... Let me feel it..." Taking his hands in yours, you leaned back slightly and rode him hard, your organs flooding you as he came deep inside you. Condoms gone now you were on the pill. You felt him fill you up, before both of you started to laugh at what had just happened.

"Shit... Jim we've been gone an hour, my brother's gonna kill me!"

You both scrambled to get dressed, thinking up excuses as to why you were so late getting back.

"So you broke down..." Niall questioned when you finally made it home.

"Yep. Lucky he knows how to change a tyre eh!"

"And you broke down by the beach, did you?" You paused, what did he say? "You've got sand in your hair, and a dune reed too... Right - what's going on y/n?" You stumbled slightly.. shit - thought you'd brushed all that out...

"I um.. look it's not how it looks Niall..." Your brother's eyes flashed angrily.

"I fucking knew it... I'll kill him!" He flew out the door enraged, and you heard the car pull off the driveway. You followed, grabbing your keys, before Ilona stopped you.

"Let him go - Jim can look after himself y/n okay? Come on now..." You fell into Ilona's arms and sobbed. You knew this day was coming, but it was meant to be when on your terms, not like this.

"We didn't mean to hide it Ilona... We just knew what the reaction was going to be, and we were scared... I know he's got this playboy image, and he's a 'scumbag with women' but he's never been anything other than kind, wonderful, loving, and patient with me.. I've completely fallen for him Ilona..."

"And if he feels the same about you, he won't let your big brother get in the way now, will he?" Your phone suddenly rang. You answered, hearing Niall's voice on the other line.

"How long?" He asked, sternly.

"Six months. Give or take... Where are you?"

"I'm on the road outside the house y/n.. I've had too much to drink to drive..." You scoffed at your idiot brother and walked out the door to see him standing by his car on the pavement.

"The hell are you doing Niall? I'm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions!" You were shouting now, but you didn't care.

"He's only in it for the fuck Y/n, that's all!"

"For six months Niall? You think he'd be seeing me for six months if that's all it was about for him? It's more than that, he cares for me -"

"He doesn't care about anyone but himself! Even Danielle saw through his lies! I told you, you're too naive for this!"

"I'm 22 years old Niall, I'm not a child anymore!"

"Guys stop before you wake Emily!! Come inside and calm down yeah?" Ilona ushered you both inside, dying of embarrassment, hoping the neighbours hadn't heard you.

"Niall think about it - have you ever seen Jim as relaxed and happy as you have recently?" Ilona brought the three of you a coffee each and you sat round the table. Niall had to admit Ilona was right. He had noticed a change in Jim just lately. A positive one - he did seem happy..

"And have you ever seen y/n as happy as she has been just lately? How did you not see the connection?" Ilona smiled at you, almost smirking.

"You knew?" Niall gasped at her, stunned.

"Oh come on, you knew too... Those stolen glances when they thought we weren't looking? The weekends they were both away at the same time, but apparently not together? Are you really that blind Niall?"

Your phone ringing interrupted the silence in the room. Jim's number flashed on your phone on the table. Niall looked at you and took your phone into the kitchen. He wanted to talk to Jim away from you.

"He's gonna shout isn't he..." Your head fell into your hands, Ilona reaching a hand over to squeeze your shoulder.

"He's had his suspicions for a while y/n.. he won't shout. He doesn't want to wake Emily. He's disappointed you didn't tell him, that's all. You're still his little sister, and that's his best friend. He doesn't want him to hurt you."

"He hasn't hurt me, he's completed me... I haven't felt this way for anyone before.. I'm sorry we kept it from you.."

"Oh please, I've known something was going on for months and so has Niall, he's just refused to believe it." Ilona giggled. She thought it was brilliant - Jim needed someone like you to ground him, and it appeared to be working well for both of you.

"He's coming over tomorrow." Niall re-entered the room, sullen. "I can't stop the two of you seeing each other, as much as it pains me.. but I'd rather have a conversation with you both in person, together.. you okay with that y/n?" You nodded, smiling a little. No going back now.

The following day, Jim was sat next to you on the sofa, your brother sat opposite you on the armchair. Ilona watching from the dining room with Emily feeding her.

Silence.. for the longest time, before Jim broke it.

"This is silly.. you just gonna sit there looking at the floor making your sister nervous Niall?" You rested your hand on his knee.

"Niall... Please listen okay.. we didn't mean to go behind your back -" you started but Niall cut you off.

"It's okay. It's okay. I've had time to think about it all.. and.. it's okay."

"What??" Jim looked up at your brother, stunned. He was expecting a slanging match, not this..

"Ilona was right. You two have had a certain spring to your steps just lately, and it's clearly due to this 'thing' you have going on.. I'd be a fool to stand in the way of that.." you stood up, and pulled your brother to his feet to embrace him. He hugged you back, before pulling back to turn to Jim.

"You hurt her, and I'm coming for you, understand?" Jim gulped a little and nodded.

"Agreed - but it won't happen Niall. Your sister would rip my balls off before you even got close." He smiled, the tension now officially gone between them.

"Also agreed. Are we all good lads? Niall, you satisfied your alpha male complex?" Ilona came into the room laughing holding Emily, who was reaching out for you. You took your niece and blew a raspberry on her neck making her giggle. Jim watched you both, smiling.

"You are NOT knocking my sister up Jim, get that thought out your head right now!" Niall pointed at Jim's doe eyes and you laughed.

"Don't worry, we've had enough surprises to last a while, Niall."

#cillian smut #jim delinquent season x y/n #delinquent season #cillian x reader #cillian x smut #cillian x fem!reader

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akitokihojo · 3 years

Text

Monster - Chapter 2

This chapter runs a little long so I'm sorry about that, but it's all essential I promise!

Also, I want to thank (again) those who messaged me like two months ago to give me insight on maternal instincts and emotions. You have no idea how much I appreciate each and every one of you who'd reached out to help. This is the final result of that, and I sincerely hope I brought justice to your advice! <3

chapter index

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“Sota.” God, she seemed so crushed, so unstable. To him, somehow, seeing her this way always made her appear so small and fragile, and it was on one hand that he could count the amount of times he’d actually seen her like this. Her head was hanging and she wasn’t making eye contact. Like, she felt shame on top of her anguish.

“Kagome, climb. I’ll be right behind you.” He promised as reassuringly as possible.

Finally, she moved. Kagome pulled her sleeve over her wounded palm and then grabbed the ladder, her shaking fingers gripping tighter than normal to prevent her from incidentally falling with her current, unsteady state. She went as fast as she could to get to the top, ignoring the adrenaline-dulled sting on her left hand until she reached the sturdy, wooden flooring of the treehouse, and crawled inside. Sota was quick to follow her up as soon as he was clear, always faster than she’d been up the damned thing.

He was cautious as he approached, watching her as she stared at the ground she sat on between her parted thighs. Kagome’s back was against the wall, but her shoulders were slumped forward, defeated.

“I’m fine now.” She softly mentioned. “You don’t have to worry.”

“You don’t have to lie.” Sota returned.

“I’m just a in a bit of shock is all.”

“It’s not your fault.” He said after a brief moment of silence. Kagome hung her head a little lower. “It’s not, Kagome. You can’t control everything, especially what you don’t know. You can’t hold yourself responsible for another conjurer getting killed.”

“Sota, stop. Please.” Kagome was beginning to cry, he could hear the wetness as she spoke, though she continued to hide her face and hold her breath.

“You put too much on your own shoulders, sometimes. It’s not right.”

“I didn’t choose this.” She whispered tremblingly.

“No, you didn’t. So, you’re allowed to not know what’s going on, and you’re allowed to not know how to fix things, and you’re allowed to make mistakes, and you’re allowed to not be the hero. That doesn’t make you a villain, though. And, it doesn’t put you at fault.”

Kagome broke then, sobbing as she folded forward, her arms clutching over her chest to hold herself securely. Slowly, Sota scooted himself closer, gently unfurling his older sister just enough to have her rest against him, her head on his shoulder while he held her and provided warmth. She cried so hard she coughed, shook, and nearly hyperventilated, but Sota did as their parents had done with them when they cried. He stayed still, didn’t budge, rubbed the length of her back with his fingers, and waited patiently for the stress to filter out of her system.

“You know,” Kagome spoke between trembling breaths that rocked her chest, a lingering affect from the hard cry. “I think we’ve got the roles reversed here.”

“What do you mean?” Sota asked.

“I’m the big sibling. I’m the one that’s supposed to be comforting you.” She lightly giggled, shaking her head and sitting upright as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

“You’re also the crybaby of the two of us.” Sota shrugged.

“Says the sissy.”

“You call it being a sissy, I call it not getting my butt kicked in the middle of town.” He teased. “Those are also referred to as, survival skills.”

Kagome chuckled, her throat cursing her for the slight aggravation even that had caused, but she ignored it. It wasn’t all that bad. Not in comparison to the headache she was now sporting. Feeling a little crusty on her face, she took her sleeve and wiped again, noticing a good helping of dirt come off on her shirt.

“Oh, god.” She groaned, continuing the motion to clean off her face of what she knew were the remnants of somewhat-dried mud. “How bad do I look right now?”

Sota frowned slightly, shaking his head. “I don’t feel like you want the answer to that.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Awful.”

“Nice.” She shrugged her brows, giving up on any further attempt at cleaning her face. She could feel the filth on her clothes, in her hair, on her forehead. It was taking extreme effort not to look at her stained sleeves and her soiled hands. At this point, she didn’t even feel the cut on her palm anymore, completely muted by everything else.

“I can’t -“ The serious expression was back on her face, brown eyes drifting to the far, low wall as she receded back into her guilt-riddled mind. “I can’t believe that I ever thought that just by being present, I would be able to prevent another’s death when all I did was stand there.”

“What are you talking about? You were never prepared for something like this.” Sota countered.

“No. I guess I wasn’t, was I? I always thought if someone was falsely accused, I would immediately stop it. But, there was actually another conjurer all along. I had no idea. And, I just - it happened so fast.”

She noticed her little brother flinch minutely, his own eyes falling to the floorboards they sat on. It must have been so hard for him to watch, too. It was terrible, and he had to witness it all from the sidelines, no doubt holding their mom back while watching his sister get yanked away by the hair and thrown against the wall, only making matters worse. Knowing him, he was probably holding his breath the whole time, hoping she wasn’t found out as a conjurer, herself. And yet, here he was comforting her because he knew she was scared. He must have been terrified.

Reaching over with her non-wounded hand, Kagome softly ruffled his dark hair, waiting until his attention wandered up to her.

“Sorry.” She whispered.

“It’s okay.” Sota shrugged. “I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, I - I just had to try something. You understand, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You wouldn’t really be Kagome if you didn’t.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re kind of notorious for never minding your business and sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re also a little reckless, extremely impulsive, and have a bad habit of not thinking of the consequences of your actions until after you’ve already done the thing.”

Kagome’s mouth hung agape, taken aback by her apparent reputation. “Hey.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

The thing was, she couldn’t. She knew these details about herself, it was just a hard pill to swallow when it was all bundled into one. So, she huffed in defeat instead, nudging his head away.

“Just, next time, can you fight back? At least a little?” Sota asked, chuckling. “How are you supposed to help bring Naraku down if you can’t even manage to throw a punch?”

“Why are you harping on me so much? Aren’t you supposed to be rooting for me?”

“Just because you’re my sister doesn’t mean you get my support by default.”

“That’s exactly what I’m supposed to get.” Kagome argued.

“It’s kind of embarrassing actually. The name, ‘conjurer,’ alone, is intimidating, but on you it’s like -“

“Finish that sentence and I will flatten you.” She threatened.

“How?” Sota laughed. “That’s that problem, sis! You can’t fight! Your power move is your backtalk, and you can’t even speak without your voice cracking right now, so what the hell are you gonna do?”

Without missing a beat, Kagome shoved the heel of her palm into the center of Sota’s forehead. It wasn’t strong enough to push him back or hurt him by any means, but it was definitely the perfect amount of force to shock her brother and shut him up, the pre-teen now too busy laughing and rubbing the spot of his head she’d just offended.

“Punk ass.” She huffed.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I was just kidding!” Sota smiled, the expression slowly fading to one of interest. “So, mind if I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Kagome couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the question on his tongue, given he was just teasing. She could tell, though, with the change in tone and the look in his brown eyes, that his curiosity had been curbed for long enough now.

“How’d you do it? The test, I mean. How’d you manage to hide that you were a conjurer?”

“I hide it every time.” She reminded him, kind of dismissively.

“Yeah, but no other time was like this? They narrowed the age group, and I don’t think they’ve ever strategized to this degree. It was like a foolproof plan; they seemed so confident. I mean, they even got…” He stopped there, unable to finish that sentence. “I just don’t really understand what happened.”

Kagome sighed, giving in what she felt was too easily but also justified, crossing her legs to sit a little more comfortably as she braced her elbows on her thighs. It’d been a secret for a while, and though she’d hoped it’d stay that way for a while more, she wasn’t about to attempt to lie to Sota when he would not only be able to see right through her, but also deserved the truth. “They were going for our receptors to stress. They typically do that every time, except not to this extreme. By cutting us, with our fight-or-flight response already revving, the pain and undeniable evidence of physical danger is kind of like a kick to our adrenaline levels. Throw in their darkness against our natural instinct for light, and you’ve got yourself a mess. To be honest, I don’t know the exact science behind it; this is just the only explanation that makes sense to me. So, when I saw them go about it with the first girl and figured out exactly what they were trying to do, I knew how to counter.”

“Wait, what? How?” Sota asked, almost more confused than before.

“I’ve - um - I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing what, exactly? What’s there to practice?”

“A multitude of things.” Kagome stated. “Like, sensing demons, how much power is necessary to kill one, how to purify, how much is too much and how much is too little - because situations vary, how to channel my power into my arrows, and in this case, how not to react at all.”

Sota’s lips slowly parted in slight awe. “You can do all that?”

“Sort of.” She replied, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “I struggle with a few things still, but I’m not helpless.”

“Who were you training with? You know someone who can help?”

“No, not necessarily.” She shook her head. “It’s just been Miroku, Sango, and I.”

“What?” Sota’s brows furrowed considerably, appearing upset as he processed her admittance. “You guys were - since when!? You guys have been training and I was never a part of it!?”

Kagome sighed, head falling back for a split second in exasperation as she received the exact reaction she’d been expecting. “Sota, I’m sorry, okay? We couldn’t get you involved, though.”

“Why the hell not!? You know how badly I want to learn how to use a sword, and I never got to train with papa and uncle like you guys did!”

“Because, we’re doing this for a reason. It’s not just to keep up with what papa was teaching me, it’s to get way better than I was ever expected to become. Papa was teaching me basic skills, and yes, he really helped ground me when it came to channeling my spiritual power into my arrows as I shot them, but that was it. I wanted - no, needed - to get better, and develop my conjurer abilities for the sake of myself, you guys, and everything happening around us. Would you rather me be defenseless?”

“No, of course not, but -“

“Then, okay!” She cut him off. “Now I’m not. You weren’t included because we didn’t want you to know, Sota. We didn’t want anyone to know. Mama doesn’t know, Sango’s dad doesn’t know, no one knows.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Kagome! This isn’t fair!” He argued, cheeks hued with an angry pink.

“You want to talk to me about unfair!?” Kagome shouted, her own face growing hot with frustration. “You don’t know the half of it!”

“Hey, you’ve at least got some powers to work with! Throw in your bow and arrow, and you’re set! I don’t have crap! Papa died before I was old enough to learn a damn thing, and Sango’s dad’s too much of a stickler to train boys younger than fifteen!”

“First of all, watch your language! You’re still a kid!” He huffed at her stern tone, and she could literally see the annoyed rebuttal on his lips, so she continued before giving him the chance. “Second, I like how one minute you pity me for my powers, and now all of a sudden I’m lucky to have them because you somehow think you’ve gotten the short end of the stick!? Pick a side, you selfish brat! You should enjoy the fact that you don’t need to know how to use a weapon, Sota!”

“You had your first lesson when you were eight!”

“Is this about me, or is this about papa?”

“It’s about the fact that I feel useless!”

“You don’t need to know how to fight to be useful!”

“I might have been able to save you today if I did!”

Oh. Oh.

Kagome took a moment to compose herself, exhaling heat from her tightly-clenched throat as she re-evaluated her younger brother’s reasoning for being so mad. She’s known how badly he’s wanted to learn how to fight, and she’s known that he would resent her for multiple reasons when and if he found out the three of them had kept up the training their fathers had started them on. As much as she would have enjoyed including him, it was for his own safety that she hadn’t. They were doing something dangerous, and truthfully, it was only in preparation of something even more dangerous. Sota didn’t need to be involved in that mess. He deserved to be free of that stress and responsibility. She’d even said Miroku and Sango shouldn’t be involved, but that easily went ignored as if she’d never brought up the argument in the first place. Her cousin and she were incredibly close, he was as protective of her as an older brother would be, and Sango was, admittedly, the biggest help of all, being the most skilled in combat, demon knowledge, and with weapons. Without them, their patience, their observations and constructive criticism of how she could better her techniques, and even their willingness to learn alongside her and offer suggestions, she most likely wouldn’t have gotten this far. Not on her own.

She felt like a total ass for calling Sota a selfish brat. She’d assumed his point of view was more superficial, when all he really wanted to do was contribute. All he wanted to do was help her when she’d gone and gotten herself into trouble. She knew better than anyone how entrapping it was to feel so helpless in dire situations.

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Sota was defiantly staring at the wall behind her, his arms crossed over his chest to silently communicate that he was peeved. Which wasn’t at all necessary. She got the point.

“Alright, I’m with you.” Kagome tried. “I understand where you’re coming from now.”

Sota looked further away.

“I was only trying to keep you safe by excluding you.”

Still no response. Knowing she was clear to make an aggravated expression, Kagome slowly and dramatically rolled her eyes, leaning away so her back and head rested against the wooden wall.

“I don’t think you’re a selfish brat.”

“I don’t really care whether you do or don’t.” He finally spoke, but his attention remained diverted. “You always try to dismiss me by calling me names, and it’s just your way of neglecting to see my side of things.”

Big words for a twelve year-old, Kagome had to admit. And, as much as she wanted to fight him on his statement, to deny his half-true accusation, she bit her tongue.

“You had your first lesson when you were eight.” Sota repeated, this time steadier. “I didn’t get that. I didn’t get that time with papa, the skill training, the confidence, the knowledge, none of it. By the time you were my age, you had something to work with. You weren’t really supposed to use your power, and the training papa gave you was more to manage it than anything, I get that. But, even if you take that away, you could still shoot straight. I don’t even know the right way to hold a sword. I don’t know the first thing about a blade. I don’t have the slightest idea how to pull an arrow through a bow and make sure my shot counts. You know what I know how to do? Stand back, stay quiet, and hold mom’s hand.” He finally looked at his sister, his brown eyes, a degree lighter than hers, deep with animosity. “You don’t know the first thing about what I felt today, and you want to call me selfish? You promised not to do anything stupid, and you ran out blindly, started talking about Kikyo like it was a casual topic, and got manhandled by a demon three times the size as you. As if it wasn’t traumatizing enough to watch a girl get murdered just a few feet away from me, I almost had to watch the same happen to my own sister within the same timeframe. You talk about feeling horrible for just standing there and watching a stranger get killed, well think about having to stand there while your family is the one being threatened. I understand that you didn’t ask for the circumstances that you have no choice but to deal with, but we’re riding the waves alongside you, sis, and just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean I don’t deserve some consideration.”

“I’m not saying you don’t.” Kagome softly said. “My intentions for keeping you out of it weren’t to belittle or disregard you by any means, Sota. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it as many times as I need to: I only wanted to keep you safe. You’re my little brother. That’s my job. And, what I’m doing is dangerous. And, crazy. But, it’s something I have to do. You don’t. So, that’s why I never wanted you mixed up in it. Yes, you’re involved in the mayhem of these inspections, and I can understand how it’s frustrating to feel so powerless, but I’m going to be honest with you, no matter how much experience you have, that’ll never change. Even the demon slayers can’t stop them; you’ve heard what Sango’s dad has said. Miroku can fight, but you watched him take a beating, too. He got it worse than I did, all because he was trying to stop them from hurting me. What would have happened to you?” Kagome shook her head as the idea of her younger sibling getting kicked in the side and pummeled into the wet dirt filtered through her mind. She blinked her eyes shut as if to block the images from coming again. “No. Sota, I can’t have you getting hurt like that. I’m sorry that you feel it’s unfair that you don’t know how to protect yourself, but that’s just the way things have to be for now.”

Sota had calmed some, she could see it in his face. He was never really the kind to stay mad. Not for long, at least. Sota was the sort who got it out of his system in one swing, and was level-headed enough to see another’s point of view thereafter. He took after their mom. Kagome, on the other hand, constantly had her temper pointed out to her. She was definitely more passionate, more dramatic, more hot-headed, and held the thrown for sass in their family. She was her father’s daughter.

Kagome scooted an inch or two closer to her little brother, nudging his arm. “You aren’t useless. A weapon doesn’t define your worth.”

“Easy for you to say. You can fight. Apparently, better than I thought you could.”

“I mean, just look at what you did for me today. Look at what you did for mama. You’re so patient and kind, and you brought me all the way here as quick as you could so I could cry in private. And, I’m positive you did your best to keep mama as calm as possible. You think the act of holding someone’s hand through something difficult is simple, but it’s not. It’s grounding and supportive. Sota, that’s a lot to offer. Not everyone has the heart that you do.”

“You’re corny.” He murmured, leaning against her shoulder.

“Alright, I’m done being nice to you.” Kagome dully remarked, her attitude quickly shifting, though she was unable to fight her own, small grin. Neither of them moved away, and she allowed him to rest against her, thankful that he didn’t mind the mud she was covered in. It was a little late to think about it, anyway; he’d held her earlier, which got some on his own clothing.

The silence between them was comfortable. The thunder was oddly soothing. Her mind was relaxing finally, her nerves returning to their normal state. What once was cushioned with epinephrine and numbness was now beginning to ache and burn. Still, she made no move to head home just yet. Kagome was in no rush to go back to reality.

“You said this was something you have to do. Training.” Sota mentioned, his voice somewhat hushed. “Why?”

Kagome didn’t answer; not immediately.

“Why, Kagome?”

“You know why. I can’t be expected to help fight against Naraku if I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Wait, but you’re -“

Kagome nodded.

“So, you’re really gonna fight?” Sota breathed.

“Yeah.”

“When?”

She didn’t answer, which was basically all the answer he needed.

“Kagome, are you about to do something insane?”

“I - I am.” She confirmed.

Sota sat upright, brown eyes meeting brown eyes. He took a moment, waiting to see if she would explain herself, but as her plush lips remained closed, and her stare held steadfast, he read what was on her mind. He’d been in the room during her countless retellings of this phantom Kikyo telling her the responsibility was theirs. He knew there was a possibility that Kagome would take that to heart. He knew that she wanted to help defeat Naraku. That all entailed the same result. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Kagome took in a slow, deep inhale, nodding as she exhaled. “Yes.”

“Is there any way I can talk you out of it?”

“No.”

He sighed, hanging his head for a moment in a defeat that came much easier than she would have ever predicted. “So, when do you guys go?”

“It’s actually just me.” Kagome admitted, sitting up to match his body language. The ache in her hand was growing, so she unconsciously switched back and forth between twiddling her fingers and clenching her fist to distract herself from the cut that no longer bled. “I know I said the three of us were training for a reason, but Miroku’s hurt. And, Sango’s not going to want to leave Kohaku on his own. She’ll want to wait until her dad gets back. So, I’m leaving tonight. On my own.”

Just as she finished her sentence, a huge rumble of thunder roared overhead, shaking the little treehouse they resided in. Sota’s attention shot out the door by instinct, drifting back to her as the noise died down. “Of course, you are. At least wait out the storm, will you?”

“Alright, yeah.” Kagome scrunched her nose slightly. “I’ll wait it out as long as I can.”

“You’ll come back?”

“I’ll come back.”

“You promise?” Sota held out his pinky to her.

She couldn’t help the warmth that flooded over her, a small smile curving at her lips as she stared at his finger. Finally, she took it with her own. “I promise. In return, you have to promise not to tell anyone. You’re the only person who knows I’m going. Keep it that way.”

“Gonna be hard to keep it a secret if you’re literally missing, sis.” He mentioned.

“I meant, until morning.” Kagome rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell them until I’m gone.”

“Deal.” Sota begrudgingly obliged, pulling his pinky free. “Come on. We should get back before it starts raining again. Mom’s probably doing that thing where she’s going crazy with worry so she’s smothering Miroku. By the way, he’s gonna kick your ass when he finds out.”

“Language.” Kagome tiredly reminded him, following him over to the edge.

“What are you gonna do? Fight me?” He jokingly mocked, beginning his climb down the rope ladder. Once he was far enough away, knowing she couldn’t do anything to him even if she wanted to, he continued his mindless taunting. “I don’t care what you say, or how much training you swear you’ve done, I still watched you get your shit rocked today.”

“I’m gonna spit on you, you freaking dweeb.” Kagome threatened, inching over the siding of the floorboards as she watched him sway slightly on the rope to hurry down. He knew she was serious, and she liked seeing the panic on his face.

When his feet met the ground, Kagome positioned herself for her own climb down, having to be more careful than before with her hand. She figured, in fact, that climbing up the way she had didn’t help her situation any. She may not have felt it in the moment, but it was easy to tell now that the gash was swollen and highly irritated. Kagome had to move slow, hooking her left forearm through the rope instead of grasping it with her fist.

“Don’t fall, okay? Be careful. I’m right here to catch you.” Sota assured from below. Kagome appreciated the protective offer, but she knew damn well that Sota would be more of a cushion to break the fall since he lacked the muscle - and size - necessary to prevent it.

“You know, your mood swings give me whiplash.” She said through stressed breath. “One minute you’re nice, the next you’re teasing me, the next you’re nice, and the next you’re yelling at me.”

“Yeah, and you’re mood swings give me a migraine. So, I guess we’re even.” Sota countered. It was actually a fair response that Kagome couldn’t even argue against, instead bobbing her head back and forth in agreement.

Her boots reached for the ground, and she felt Sota’s hands instinctually grasp her low back as she gained her footing. As a silent thank you, she ruffled her brother’s hair, notching her head in the direction of their home.

“Will you teach me how to use a sword when you get back?” Sota asked, walking beside his sister. “At least the basics? Please?”

“I don’t know what ‘bow and arrow’ mean to you, Sota, but I’m crap with a sword.” She replied.

“But, you have a knife.”

“Hate to break it to you, but this is definitely a scenario where size does, in fact, matter.”

“What - wow.” He laughed.

“I can teach you how to shoot. Or, maybe I’ll be able to convince Sango to teach you how to use a sword. She’s awesome with one.”

“Miroku may be better off convincing her since his tongue is always down her throat.”

Kagome was the one to laugh that time, cringing slightly. “You’re probably right. Either way, this is only when I get back and if things have calmed down.”

“It’s you. You’re the most stubborn person I know. I know for a fact things will be better when you get back.” He said, approaching the front door of their home and stomping the mud off his boots.

“You do?” Kagome smiled, feeling encouraged.

“Well, yeah. You literally won’t have it any other way. I’m assuming if anyone tries to stop you, you’ll just claw their face off with your unyielding temper.” Sota replied, looking at her with a grin as he made a clawing gesture with his furled fingers.

Kagome deadpanned, entirely unsurprised by the last jab he served her. She raised her fist, quickly jerking it back in an empty threat to hit him, and he threw the door open to run inside.

“Oh, thank goodness. You’re back.” Their mother breathed as soon as they’d appeared, rushing over to them from Miroku’s side on the couch.

“Sorry.” Sota spoke for the both of them, his serious demeanor returning. “We just needed a moment. I know it was a bad time to run off, but -“

“Sota, honey, don’t worry. I understand.” Their mom assured. “Are you two okay.”

“Yeah.” He answered, and their mother’s attention diverted to Kagome.

“Yeah.” Kagome echoed, giving a curt nod.

“Come here.” She walked over, her cold, gentle hands cradling Kagome’s jaw as she turned her face about to check for damage. Kagome knew it was fruitless, though. She was filthy. Still, she looked at her as if her vision could see through thick, dried dirt. Her hands glided down Kagome’s left arm and to her hand, inspecting the cut on her palm. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.”

“But, Miroku.” Kagome mentioned, peeking over her mom’s shoulder at him. He laid on the couch, his arm planted over his eyes with a light blanket covering most of his body. He was shirtless, looked clean, and seemed almost comfortable, though she could see that a mass of deep red and purple had made home on his ribs.

“I’m on drugs. Leave me alone.” He grunted, not even peeking over at them.

“I gave him some herbs so he would be more comfortable.” Her mother smiled.

“The strong stuff?” Sota asked, taking a seat at their circular, dining table.

“The good shit.” Miroku said.

“Where’s Sango?” Kagome asked.

“Well, she wanted to take Kohaku home and get cleaned up, herself. I invited them to stay, especially for dinner, but you know Sango. She’s as independent as ever.”

“She’s fucking hot.” Miroku murmured.

Kagome cringed and groaned, eyeing her cousin. His perverted grin was unmistakable, even from behind his forearm. “You’re on drugs. Shut up.”

“Come on, dear. I just drew up a fresh bath; you’re timing couldn’t have been more perfect.” Her mom pulled her, guiding her to the bathroom where she shut the door behind them.

Carefully, her mother helped Kagome undress, peeling the muddy clothes off of her, overly cautious not to hurt her since she wasn’t sure what state her body was in. Kagome, knowing this provided a sense of comfort for her mom - caring for her in her vulnerable state - allowed her to do as she pleased, taking things just as slowly. Truthfully, her aching muscles, now more noticeable than ever, were as grateful for it as she was.

The water was hot as she sunk into the tub, plugging her nose and dunking her head entirely. She took the rag that was offered, gently cleaning off her face and body as her mom took to washing her hair.

“Mama, I’m sorry.” Kagome softly spoke through the silence.

“Shh.”

“I didn’t -“

“Shh.” Her mother hushed her again, gently massaging her scalp with her fingers. “All that matters to me is that you’re okay. Nothing else, Kagome.”

Kagome sighed, leaning back into her mom’s touch. “I am.”

She bundled up in a towel after drying off, her long, raven hair, though still dripping, beginning to wave as it fell over the front of her shoulders. Her mother once again gently tilted her head back and forth to inspect the damage, running her thumb over her cheek. When she extended Kagome’s neck, Kagome couldn’t help but wince slightly, the swallow she’d unintentionally done at that exact moment sliding down her swollen throat uncomfortably.

“We’re lucky he didn’t crush your trachea.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Kagome whispered with a wry grimace as her mom released her to look at her hand. Kagome tried to swallow her hiss, but couldn’t stop it from sliding off her tongue, her mouth hanging open as her mother stretched out her palm to observe it closely.

“Sorry.” She breathed sympathetically. “It looks irritated. Definitely inflamed. I’ve got the salve out on the table. Let’s get you dressed so I can clean and bandage it up.”

“Are you gonna have to amputate it, doc?”

“Unfortunately, that is a possibility.”

“What?” Kagome’s expression shifted to fearful shock, studying the red cut on her hand as her mother giggled.

“I’m kidding.”

“You said it with a straight face and everything.” She whined.

Her mother merely kept her smile, her fingers finding the ends of her daughter’s hair and running them through. During the silence, she couldn’t stop herself from traveling higher, twisting the waving locks, fixing her messy bangs, and then combing her now-trembling fingers all the way through the length of her hair again. She’d realized she was fidgeting in a sense, losing her composure, but the fight was no match. Her chin quivered and her bottom lip jutted out slightly as she pulled Kagome into a tight hug and pinched her eyes shut, trying everything she could to keep the terrifying image of her daughter in that little girl’s place at bay.

“Mama? What’s wrong?” Kagome gently asked, holding her in return.

“Nothing.” She lied, though she convincingly held her tone steadier than she felt.

Kagome could feel her fear, her anguish, and the relief that they were together right now. She could understand, much like Sota’s disturbance, how difficult it must have been for her mother to witness everything that had happened today. None of it was easy for anyone, so Kagome tightened her grip, sullenly resting her chin on her mom’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so brave.” She finally caved, openly crying, shaking into her firming hold.

It only took that one sentence to bring Kagome to crumble, herself. Her expression twisted sadly and hot tears washed to her eyes, spilling over as she hid her face in her mom’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t always feel like I need to protect you from the world, Kagome. It sometimes feels like I need to protect you from yourself. How can I do that? You’re always ready to sacrifice yourself for others, always ready to fight battles that aren’t yours when your own is hard enough. I don’t know how to save you from this. Any of this.” Her mom sobbed. “I had no choice but to stand there and watch you get hurt, and I just… I can’t do that again, Kagome. I can’t - I won’t…”

“I’m sorry.” Kagome cried, voice faltering worse than ever.

“If I could take your place, I would in a heartbeat.”

Kagome fervently shook her head against her mother’s shoulder.

“I would.” She nodded, leaning back and taking her daughter’s face in her hands. “I would be able to protect you then. You’re my little girl. You’re good, and you’re pure, and you’re feisty, and you’re strong, and you’re brave, and you’re beautiful, and you’re resilient, and you’re kind, and the world has no business hating you.” She wiped her thumbs back and forth over Kagome’s cheeks, clearing the fresh tears that streamed down her face while her bottom lip quivered.

Kagome’s mother took a deep, unsteady breath, pulling her closer to place a sweet kiss on her forehead before looking into her glossy eyes again. “I know I can’t, though.” She whispered. “And, I will never ask you to be less than what you are. So long as you stay alive. Please.”

Kagome nodded, sniffling, hardly able to see her mother’s face through her tears. She could feel the heat building, and no amount of swallowing helped, a dense lump growing in her swollen throat and air clogging in her lungs as if she’d lost the ability to properly breathe. Her fingers quaked and her muscles felt weak, her legs slowly folding to bring Kagome’s pitiful figure to the ground. Her mom followed, shushing her, pulling her close and petting her hair to provide as much comfort as possible, but nothing helped pull Kagome out of it. She was lost to the darkness in her mind, the burning in her veins, the image of the young girl still on the ground, cold, bleeding engrained behind her eyelids for her to vividly see.

“I just - I just wanted to save her, mama.” She brokenly sobbed.

“I know, baby. I know, you did.”

“She deserved to live.”

Her mother rocked her back and forth as soothingly as possible, lulling her with a gentle shush as her daughter got the pain out of her system. It tore her apart to know her daughter’s innocence could never be spared. She felt nauseous just knowing there was nothing she could do to fix it, or make it better, or heal her broken heart.

“I tried. I - I tried. I tried.” Kagome kept repeating, her brain on loop and unable to filter anymore words free. Like a broken record skipping, scratching, on its last leg before the music is shut off.

Kagome’s mother wasn’t aware of how much time had passed. Quite frankly, it was irrelevant. Her daughter was quiet now, resting her head on her thighs, her towel-draped body curled on the bathroom floor, eyes blinking drowsily as she zoned out. Every now and then, she’d see a tear escape from Kagome’s eye and glide over the bridge of her nose. Her own tears had stopped, her cheeks dry, lips tingling from the hum of the melody she continued to comfort her daughter with. She knew and accepted, as difficult as it may be, that there was no physically protecting Kagome from a thing. Not Naraku, not demons, not the world, not fate, and not herself. Kagome was a fighter, and Kagome was the light that made your day better. Kagome was an angel and a beast all in one. And, if all she could offer was her lap, her solace, her arms, and her song to bring her daughter some form of peace, then nothing in the universe could stop her from providing it.

“I am so proud of you, little bird.” She whispered, raking her fingers through Kagome’s almost-dry hair, thick and wavy and neatly pulled away from her face. “You always try to do the right thing, no matter what. Your bravery may scare me, but that’s only because I’m your mother. Your bravery also amazes me. You’ve grown from this little girl afraid of spiders to a woman still afraid of spiders that will challenge demons without so much as a second thought.”

Kagome gave a weak giggle, snuggling just a little closer to her mom. It wasn’t often that her mother used her father’s nickname for her, but when she did, it was one of the most comforting things that seemingly quieted the world around. The thunder didn’t even stand a chance. With the heavy droplets of rain spilling from the edging of their roof to splash in the puddles on the ground, the pitter-patter hitting above them to create a continuous white noise, Kagome was finally stabilizing and grounding down to actuality.

“Spiders are gross.” Kagome muttered.

“I agree.” Her mom giggled. “Eight legs is just excessive.”

Kagome groaned, muffling her laugh. “And, don’t even get me started on centipedes.”

“The worst of all multi-legged insects.”

Slowly, Kagome lifted herself off of her mom, smiling slightly as her mother continued to comb her dark locks from her face.

“Your bangs are getting a little long.” She mentioned. “Want me to spruce them up tonight?”

“Please?” Kagome asked, nodding.

She grinned, caressing her daughter’s soft cheek. “Let’s get your hand wrapped and some food in your belly first.”

Kagome finally picked herself off the floor, following her mother out of the bathroom and parting in the small hall where she insisted she was well enough to dress herself. As soon as she shut the door to her room, Kagome released a deep and dreadful sigh, resisting the loud groan that could have easily accompanied it as she braced her weight on the wood of her door. Her decision was easy to make in the moment, while she was pinned to a wall, angry, and horrified, but after watching her mother breakdown, she struggled with it now. Leaving everyone behind for an undetermined amount of time would be extremely difficult. Leaving her mama behind to hurt and worry was the worst feeling in the world.

Because, truth be told, despite the promise she’d made her younger brother, there was no telling if she’d actually succeed.

There was no telling what she’d encounter beyond her village’s limits.

There was no telling anything.

Kagome wasn’t naive. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew she had no idea what she was getting herself into, that there was no direct path to her objective, that there was no given timeframe to count on. Hell, she didn’t even know what Naraku looked like.

Overall, she knew that she knew nothing. Other than she had to try.

As heavy as the guilt weighed to upset her mother, her family, in this way, Kagome wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for not trying. It was like rolling over, belly up, surrendering to more deaths, more chaos, more abuse and oppression. It made her stomach churn and her heart race. It made her blood boil from the fire building up in her abdomen.

She wouldn’t say she didn’t care about what happened to herself, because that wasn’t true. There were plenty of reasons to tend to her well-being, and no matter how reckless she naturally was, she vowed then and there to be as careful as she could. Leaving didn’t mean she was going to parade her powers about, nor openly proclaim that she was a conjurer. She was bold, not stupid. She would be cautious, watch her step, mind her P’s and Q’s, but take no shit when it came down to it.

Fine line, thin line, grey area and all, this was the best Kagome could offer right now.

How was it possible to be so dead set and confident on a decision while second-guessing yourself? Kagome could feel these negative thoughts slithering through her mind, reminding her that she wasn’t as physically strong as Sango, and she wasn’t as clever as Miroku. Running aimlessly through a region of unknown was idiotic, and she would be lucky if she wasn’t killed within two days. The loudest voice of all told her that she would never be able to take down Naraku on her own. And, she was a fool to think otherwise.

Kagome took a deep, steady breath, sighing out even slower as she tried to ease those thoughts away. She busied herself, lighting the candle on her nightstand for some extra light and dressing in some comfortable pajamas.

“Is this what you want?” She quietly asked herself, staring at an empty bag she’d splayed on her bed. When she pictured herself putting the bag away, saying no, and walking out of the room, she felt wrong. It felt wrong. When she pictured herself packing it with some clothes and necessities that could only be saved for last minute, she felt terrified. But, it felt right. “Yes.”

So, she discreetly went about her room, collecting a few items of clothing to alternate through, especially undergarments, little things she may want along the way, like something to tie her hair back with, a brush, and the fresh box of matches in her drawer. Her bag had plenty of room leftover, which was planned, and she tucked it under her bed - next to which she placed a pair of dark pants, a green blouse, and her most comfortable, short bodice. As far as materials were concerned, Kagome was ready to go.

She stopped as her fingers gripped the handle of the door. Her decision, though right, was nerve wracking. She felt sick, scared, discouraged, and she wasn’t even on her way yet. The thoughts, the plaguing negativity, like a flashing, red light going off and distracting her from her objective, were what was deterring her strength. She needed to silence them, needed to sway them for good.

You aren’t as strong as Sango.

No. She wasn’t. That was a straight fact and there was no competition. Sango was a badass, came from a line of badasses, and lived by the motto, “kicking ass and taking names.” She was fast, though. Kagome was nimble and reacted almost as well as Sango would. She deserved credit in that area.

You aren’t as clever as Miroku.

That was only somewhat true. Miroku was sixty percent brains and forty percent brawn. Sure, he was smart. Kagome, on the other hand, was resourceful. Miroku was cunning, and Kagome was witty. Miroku could talk others into doing something, while Kagome could talk herself and others out of trouble. Together, they were a pretty good team, but they could still survive apart.

You’re going to get yourself killed. You don’t even know where you’re going.

If she was meant to do this, then she’d pull through. But, she’d rather die trying than accept life as it is. Kagome could figure this out. By no means did she believe any part of this would be easy, but she refused to believe it wasn’t possible.

You will never be able to take down Naraku on your own.

Kagome let that one sit for a moment. It wasn’t to let it eat at her, it was more to feel it out. Would she? Honestly, when she pictured it happening, the scene was a blur. Naraku was there, he just didn’t have a face or a body. Kagome could feel it though, the sensation overwhelming in her gut. She would, no doubt, meet Naraku at some point or another. The only thing was, peculiar as it may be, she wasn’t alone. Her intuition was showing her not just one, but a number of people at her side. All of them ready to end things with this horrible, wretched demon. It may be the conjurers, but something told Kagome to wait and see. So, she gripped the knob of her door a little tighter, a little more confident. The thought gradually became impertinent. She wasn’t worried about facing Naraku alone, because she wouldn’t be alone. From what she’d like to guess, to hope, far from it.

“Don’t touch it, Sota.” Kagome heard her mom say as she wandered out toward the living room.

“But, he said he couldn’t feel it.” Sota responded.

“For real, Auntie! I can’t feel a thing.” Miroku declared. “It’s like magic.”

“No, it’s like medicine. Eat your soup.”

“How much did you give him?” Kagome asked skeptically as she joined her family, side-eyeing her cousin as he smiled goofily from his spot on the couch. She was surprised to see him sitting up, and even more surprised from his apparent bleary state that he hadn’t dropped his bowl yet.

“Well, I might have given him a dash more than what’s recommended.” Her mother sheepishly replied, hiding her face as she scooped stew into a bowl with her ladle.

“A dash?”

“A pinch.”

“How much is a serving?”

“A - um - tablespoon?”

“Mama, why was that a question?”

“Mom, how much did you give him!?” Sota guffawed, leaning forward over one of the chairs at the table.

“Look, he doesn’t feel any pain, so as far as I’m concerned, I gave him enough.” She defended, cheeks a deep shade of pink.

Both Sota and Kagome failed at biting back their humor, doubling over from laughing so hard. She glanced at her cousin, her complacent, happy, clueless-looking cousin and sauntered his way.

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” She sweetly asked, giggling.

“Pretty good.” He nodded, grinning wider. “Definitely can’t complain. This stew is delightful.”

Kagome bit her lip, bating her breath as she turned on her heel to look at her mom. “Mama, he said ‘delightful.’”

“Yes, I heard him.”

“To die for.” Miroku dramatically added.

Kagome resisted her knee-jerk reaction to take the loosely-gripped bowl from his one-handed grip, seeing he was clutching it just tight enough to keep it from spilling. She bit down on her bottom lip harder, trying as hard as she could not to laugh as Miroku took a long and loud slurp of food off of his spoon. Behind her, she heard her little brother snort into his arm, trying to stifle himself, too.

“How you feeling? A little high?” Kagome queried.

“High? No, I’m sitting.”

She lost it then, laughing so hard she wheezed, clutching her sides and folding over again.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Kagome’s mother sighed as she set two bowls of soup on the table. “Yes, your cousin is heavily medicated but at least he’s comfortable. Now, come eat, please.”

“Hey, mom, can I have a pinch over a serving of whatever was on his menu?” Sota asked, taking his seat and gesturing to Miroku by pointing his thumb over his shoulder behind him.

“You may not.” She said, unamused.

“It’s for science.”

“Yeah? Tell me one scientific thing you know.” She tested, her level expression holding strong.

Sota froze, mouth hanging agape as he pondered, his brown eyes drifting away from his mother as he grew nervous. “Uh, rain - rain comes from clouds.”

“Mhm, good job. Eat your food.” She dismissed. She pulled out the chair next to Kagome as she sat at the table, bringing the disinfectant, salve, cotton balls, and bandage wrappings closer. Once Kagome got situated, swallowing what remained of her laughter and pulling her bowl of stew closer, she ushered for her left hand.

“It can wait, mama.” Kagome said. “You should eat, too.”

“I would feel much better knowing this was taken care of first.”

“Then, I’ll do it myself. You don’t have to worry.” She stated sincerely, but with the slightly sad slant of her mother’s eyes, she regretted the innocent suggestion immediately.

Who was Kagome to deny her mother a simple, tender, and loving act that would most likely, in turn, provide her with a sense of comfort? As much as Kagome didn’t want to think of the circumstances of their evening, or the happenings of their day, it played a significant role in the lack of glimmer in her mom’s eyes. She couldn’t prevent the harm that Kagome endured today, but she wanted to clean up the mess.

Steadily, Kagome turned her wrist palm-up and slid it over the wood of the table toward her mother. She let her do as she pleased, once more studying the inflamed wound while Kagome minded her own and blew on the spoonful of stew in front of her mouth. She was lucky that she hadn’t choked as she gasped at the same time she’d taken a bite, hearing the sizzle from the disinfectant while her mom continued to use a generous amount on her cut.

“I hope they don’t make this sort of inspection a habit.” Her mother grumbled.

Kagome kept her mouth shut, feeling like her mom was passed the sad and disturbed stages of the incident, and had transitioned to the angry phase. Her mom wasn’t the type to outright express her frustration. It was more visible in her body language and the deeper set tone she’d carry. She often busied herself with something, like cleaning or cooking, in an attempt to either distract herself or keep from coming off harsh in any manner. It was a classic way to dissipate her anxiety so she could come out of it calm and collected. Kagome figured tending to her hand was a two-birds-one-stone sort of deal.

She swallowed the stew on her tongue, allowing the heat from the meal to glide down her throat. It was slightly painful, but simultaneously soothing. She knew it wouldn’t be a comfort like hot liquid to a sore throat would be when you’re down with a cold, but it was still mildly satisfying to feel it go down. She avoided the large chunks of meat for the time being. She knew her mom would be happier if she ate everything in her bowl, but swallowing anything more than liquid right now just wasn’t appetizing.

Kagome peeked over at her little brother, not at all surprised to find him looking back. He held a wary look in his eyes, a brow slightly cocked, and she knew it was due to the way their mother had leaned her face just inches away from Kagome’s wound, little huffs of agitation coming from her nostrils as she paid close attention to clean every little centimeter of the surface. It wasn’t big by any means. Sure, it was larger than Sango’s, but her hand, itself, was relatively small as it was, and the gash went from the center toward the side. Maybe two inches at most, and angled crookedly. There was no way into their mother’s head, but Kagome was willing to bet she was being diligent for her own peace of mind as well as the fact that Kagome had not only gotten a good helping of mud in the cut, but also another’s blood. It was important to be thorough, and Kagome wasn’t about to complain. Not with the life of her palm in her mother’s hands.

Sota made a very subtle gesture at Kagome, one that wouldn’t catch their mom’s peripheral vision. He pointed in her direction then made the “OK” sign with his fingers, asking if she was alright. Kagome responded with a tiny nod, fighting back a wince when her mom tightly wrapped up her hand from the base of her fingers to her wrist after slathering it in ointment.

“Not too tight?” Her mom inquired, giving Kagome her hand back.

“Nope. It’s perfect. Thanks, mama.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little, but it’s bearable.”

“Okay, love.” She stood, kissing the top of Kagome’s head. “Eat as much as you can. At least some of the vegetables, please. I’ll make some tea. I want you all in bed soon.”

No one had an argument for her. Not even Sota. It was typical of him to want to stay up, but tonight, no matter what the time actually was, it felt exceptionally later. Again, Kagome found herself looking over at him, unsurprised to find him returning the stare. The end of their night also meant their goodbye. And, she could see the uneasiness in his eyes. How could she convince him that everything would be alright? How could she make him drop the obvious concern so the rest of their family wouldn’t notice and ask what was wrong? The only thing she could think to do to rest his anxiety was to smile. So, she did. Kagome gave her brother a small, reassuring grin, but all it worked to do was make his eyes fall away. Much like their mother, he busied himself to hide his emotions, bringing his bowl up to his face to drink the remainder of his broth.

The tea was like heaven, the hints of chamomile and honey the most comforting to her throat. The house had grown quiet, the tension from outside beginning to trickle in. Miroku rested his back against the arm of the couch, still seemingly pain-free. He’d only taken a couple of sips of his tea before closing his eyes and releasing an unsteady sigh, and Kagome wondered if there was a bit of discomfort he wasn’t showing, if the medicine was making him drowsy, if he couldn’t stomach anything more, or all of the above. Sota, Kagome, and their mother all continued to sit at the small table, embracing the silence. Much like she’d expected the moment the demons left their village, there wasn’t always going to be something that could be said. There wasn’t always going to be something that could make them forget, because there was no possible way to do that. What had happened - the terror, agony, heartbreak, and failure - it all was going to demand to be recognized.

The thunder had calmed momentarily, the rain still falling, though not quite as hard. And, as if the universe was working to solidly confirm that Kagome’s initial assumption was correct, a dreadful, broken, gut wrenching cry was heard from several homes over.

Kagome’s attention shot toward their door, her heart dropping into her pelvis. It was the mother of the conjurer grieving, releasing her sorrow, and Kagome could only imagine the horrible feeling of having to inhabit a house where her daughter could no longer dance around, and play, and laugh, and bring the joy a nine year-old girl naturally does.

She missed the thunder immediately. She missed her cousin’s natural instincts to lighten the mood with terribly-timed and inappropriate jokes. She missed yesterday when this misery had yet to exist.

“Oh, your bangs.” Kagome’s mom said, louder than her typically soft tone, as if to both busy herself and distract them all from listening to the crying. She decidedly spoke every word that came to mind, announcing her thoughts and letting them fumble off her tongue to keep her children’s attention as she stood from her seat and wandered about the room. “Now, where did I put those scissors? You know, when Miroku still trusted me to cut his hair, I thought it’d be a good idea to use a bowl to shape it. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. I pictured it coming out as this neatly-tousled look since his hair naturally holds some waves, but that was certainly not the case. Miroku, you remember this, right?” She paused for his answer, turning around from the little drawer she rummaged through to find her nephew giving her this distasteful grimace.

“Do you realize we almost went fifteen years without mentioning that?” He muttered.

“Oh, hush. It wasn’t that bad.” She dismissed with a meager wave of her hand, going back to shifting about as she sought out the scissors.

“You gave him a bowl cut!?” Sota chuckled. “No wonder he doesn’t trust you to cut his hair anymore.”

“No, no, that wasn’t the kicker. Tell them, Auntie. Tell them what you did to me.” Miroku grumbled. He was groggy, his body feeling stiff and heavy as he melted further into the couch, the medicine leaving his head and flowing through the muscles of his arms, torso, hips, and legs. But, he knew what his aunt was trying to do, and this was all he could offer to contribute to the conversation and keep words flowing to help drown out the crying that haunted their town.

“I - uh - oh! Here they are!” She said brightly, presenting the scissors. “I accidentally missed.”

“Missed?” Kagome asked.

“I missed.” Her mom nodded.

“She missed.” Miroku confirmed.

“What did you miss?” Sota asked skeptically.

“The hair - his hair. I missed - I missed his hair. Um, you know how I take the strands in between my fingers and trim the ends beneath? Well, instead of that, I went above. Above my fingers. By a lot.”

“Wh- how!?” Kagome pressed.

“I was a little distracted. And, apparently, your cousin knows how to hold a grudge.”

“Well, Auntie, how about I give your hair a trim and we call it even? No pun intended.”

“Hah! How about not.”

“What were you so distracted by?” Sota asked.

“Your father. He was - uh - talking to me.”

“He was shirtless, you heathen!” Miroku shouted, his voice cracking from the emphatics.

Kagome stifled her snort, her attention landing on her mother’s reddened face, who could only give an awkward grin. She started laughing at both the embarrassment on her mom's cheeks and the fact that something like that had ruined Miroku’s hair and trust.

“Oh my god, is that why you wore that hat for, like, two months straight!?” Kagome asked, her mouth hanging agape.

“She had to even it out the best she could while both of our dad’s laughed, and let me tell you, the style did not suit me.” Miroku replied.

“I thought it was cute.” His aunt shrugged.

“Well, you would. It was your handiwork.”

“It was more that your cheeks were so round, and your head was so big, so super short hair really helped make it pop.”

“Hey! I did not have a big head!”

“Yeah, you did.” Both Kagome and her mother chimed synchronously.

“Awe, man. No fair. I don’t remember any of that stuff.” Sota groaned.

“Sorry, Sota. I think that happened when Miroku was, what? Seven?” His mom said, unsure.

“Eight.” Miroku corrected.

“Right. So, Kagome would have been five or six, and you would have just been born.”

“Actually, I think you were still pregnant with the munchkin. Explains why you were so thirsty for -“

“Ah! Okay, no! I was not thirsty, first of all! Second, how are you still so inappropriate right now? Go to sleep! Kagome, let me see your bangs.” Her mother directed, clearly flustered and ending the subject there.

Kagome couldn’t help but back her seat away as her mama approached to sit beside her, the wooden chair legs scraping against the wooden floor. “I’m gonna have to ask you to calm down first, thank you very much. Considering how easily distracted you’ve been proven to be, I’m not sure this is such a good idea with your current state.”

“Fine. Sota, would you do the honors?” Her mother sarcastically asked, sliding the scissors across the table.

“Gladly.” He grinned.

“Wait! No! Why would he do it!? Why would your first suggestion be to hand the scissors to him!?”

“Would you like me to trim your bangs?” Her mother cocked a brow, a slightly proud smile curving her lips.

“Yes, please.” Kagome grumbled in defeat, scooting her chair back to where it was and presenting the hair at the front of her brow.

“That’s what I thought.” Her mom giggled, taking the scissors back from her son and kissing Kagome’s forehead. “Sota, go hop in the bath, please. I want you clean and warm before bed.”

He nodded, rising from his seat, and as he went to walk by, she stopped him, pulled him down by his arms, and planted a sweet kiss to his head, as well.

Steadily, she spruced up Kagome’s bangs, even going so far as to shorten up the little layers she’d given her a while ago at the sides of her face to frame her jaw. Her daughter was serene beneath her touch, fully trusting, and she thanked the tea and the loudening rain for soothing Kagome’s nerves from what they were in the bathroom.

The crying from the mourning mother was, once again, drowned out for the most part. Now and again she could be heard, and quite frankly, she felt the mother should be heard. She should be heard all over the country, the world, and her cries should echo in the ears of the demons who had the gall to take her baby from her. Her wailing should be the only thing they’re sentenced to listen to for the rest of their days, and if they have ever done this to another, all those mothers should play over each other. Like an infinite ringing of misery for only the assailants to hear. She could imagine their prideful smiles at first, but like anybody else, they would eventually fall to their knees and beg for the agony to end.

They had the audacity to call humans selfish. Humans, at least, had hearts.

“There. All done.” She grinned, placing the scissors on the table and dusting the trimmings of dark hair from Kagome’s shirt. Gently, she cupped her daughter’s cheeks, staring into her big, brown eyes for a moment before leaning forward and kissing her forehead again. “Let’s get Miroku into bed.”

“Don’t worry about it, mama. I’ll get him. I can handle it.” Kagome said, turning around to glimpse at her resting cousin.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Alright. I’ll make him a little mixture that’ll help him sleep through the night. I’ll be in the room in a moment.”

Kagome stood from her seat, sauntering over to the couch were she softly rubbed her fingers over Miroku’s sternum. He didn’t move, so she tried again, whispering his name. When he didn’t rouse that time, she tapped his collarbone, knowing, for whatever reason, that he hated being touched there. Miroku cringed, like a shiver was running down his spine, and squished his shoulder up closer to his ear to stop the weird sensation.

“Hm?” He grumbled.

“Come on, time for bed.” Kagome continued to whisper.

“Why can’t you ever wake me up a normal way?” He asked as he very slowly began to sit up, his voice raspy.

“Because, I don’t want to.” She replied simply, noticing his slight flinch. “Are you in pain?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Too late.”

“It’s not that bad. It comes and goes because of the medicine.”

“All depending on your positioning, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, let me help.” Kagome extended her hand to him, and when he took it, she gripped it tight, pulling it closer to her chest for stability, and firmly grasped his elbow with her other. “Ready?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it in as he pushed his legs to stand and she yanked him up the rest of the way. It was all he could do to swallow the gasp of pain his throat went to release by reaction, only allowing an airy hiss to glide from his lips. He wrapped his arm over Kagome’s shoulders once his feet got situated beneath him, knowing she could handle the weight he braced on her. His muscles just weren’t working with him - whether it be due to discomfort or just a lack of mobility. He blamed the medicine for the latter. He felt lightheaded as soon as he was vertical and had to really take a moment to shut his eyes and gain his bearings. His cousin was patient though, standing still, holding him up with only minor swaying, and waiting for him to initiate the walk forward.

With only a few stumbles here and there, Kagome managed to get Miroku into his and Sota’s shared room in one piece, slowly and carefully lowering him onto his bed at the far end. She helped him get situated beneath the covers, making sure he was comfortable as he allowed his body to sink into his mattress.

“Mama’s gonna come in with more medicine for you.” She said softly. “Bet you miss your high now, huh?”

“It was short-lived, I’ll admit.” He chuckled.

She giggled in return, taking a moment to find the matches and light a candle in the corner of the room for just a little extra light.

“Hey,” Miroku spoke. “Come here.”

“I wasn’t leaving yet.” She mentioned, shaking the fire of her match out, setting it in the trash, and walking back over to him. Cautiously, Kagome sat on the edge of the bed beside him, giving a meager smile.

“How are you?” He asked with sincerity, and it was clear he was referring to what had happened earlier that day.

“Don’t ask.” She said.

“Too late.” He bounced her own reply off of her.

Kagome couldn’t find it in her to give an answer to that question. She felt an immense amount of guilt for everything going through her head, for her decision to head out on her own, and especially for the beating he’d taken earlier. He was down for the count, while she was the one who’d gotten him into that trouble. Yet, she was perfectly fine, walking around, with only a soreness in and on her neck and a throbbing headache that would, no doubt, go away quicker than the ache in his ribs.

“Are they broken?” She asked, avoiding his own question.

“Don’t know. I don’t think so, but we gotta wait for the doc to determine whether they are or not.”

Kagome nodded in acknowledgment, bowing her head and eyes for a small moment before looking back into his dark blue irises. “I’m sorry.”

“I knew that was coming.” Miroku chuckled. “Shut up. You know I don’t blame you.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” She shakily replied.

“So, you were the one who kicked me repeatedly?”

Kagome winced at the visual.

“You were the one who ordered the demons to attack me?”

“Miroku -“

“You were the one -“

“I get it. No.” She interjected, stopping him from taking her mind back to the scene.

“But, it was because you ran out in the first place that the whole thing happened, right? That what you were gonna say? And, also because you mentioned Kikyo, which was how the whole thing escalated so drastically?”

“Is it wrong?”

“Yes and no.” He stated with a shrug of his brow. “I mean, would I have gotten my ass kicked if you’d stayed in line? Maybe not. But, that’s much worse, in my opinion. That means we all would have just stood by and watched. It’s almost as bad as the culprits if you think about it. And, you mentioning Kikyo isn’t that out of pocket. I probably would have done the same thing if I were in your shoes. Saying something like that, as impulsive as it may have been, and as dangerous as it had proven to be, doesn’t put you in the wrong. You had solid and good intentions. You didn’t expect anything that had happened today, so get your head out of the toxic mindset that I know it’s sitting in. Focus on what I’m saying, okay? I ran in to try to get him off of you because you’re my family. I’m going to protect you the best that I can. Not once did I think, ‘Oh man, there goes Kagome, getting herself into trouble again.’ My thought process was, and still stands, that they had no fucking right to touch you. The only thing going through my head was to make sure he didn’t kill you. And, I took an ass whooping because I wasn’t strong enough to handle them. Apparently, brute strength isn’t my forte.”

Kagome couldn’t stop her little laugh from escaping. She shook her head, her little grin remaining as she bowed down to rest on her cousin’s chest, not quite placing much of her weight on him.

“You know damn well that if I felt something was your fault, I’d tell you. Bluntly.” Miroku mentioned, rubbing her arm.

“I know.” She giggled again. “But, I still feel bad.”

“Well, stop.”

“On it.” She grunted sarcastically. As if it were that easy.

“One more thing, and this is the most important part, okay?”

“What?” Kagome asked into his chest, feeling it was safe enough to place a little more weight on him when he hugged her, pulling her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

“Not a single one of us knew there was another conjurer nearby. Don’t you dare begin to think that there was anything you could have done to prevent her death.”

Slowly, very slowly, Kagome pushed herself to sit up. It probably wasn’t the hardest thing to do to guess one of the most plaguing thoughts on her mind - she really wasn’t a difficult person to read - but it was still a thing Miroku could easily point out, even in the most difficult of moments.

“You and your frankness.” She sighed.

“You’re gonna be fine, Kagome.” He reassured her, noticing the way her brown eyes couldn’t meet his. “We all are. This won’t last forever.”

Kagome nodded, not able to respond before her mother came in with his next serving of medicine. She used the moment to lighten the mood a little, giving her cousin a side glance.

“Have fun in your coma.”

“Ha - haha - ha. So funny.” He remarked, cringing at the ill-tasting mixture of ground herbs coming his way.

She wished him goodnight then slipped out of the room, sauntering to her own and getting comfortable on her bed. It wasn’t too long before her mom came in to turn things down and make sure she was comfortable. Kagome had to put valiant effort into not making her emotions obvious when she was hugged close. She had to remind herself not to hold on for longer than normal, or cling tighter, or become the least bit shaky, knowing this was the last time she’d see her for a while.

If not the last time ever.

Kagome took a steadying breath, forcing that negative thought from her mind, and when her mama looked at her, she was as composed as ever. Those bad thoughts had no place seeping through. If she was going to do this, which she was, she was going to have to be as strong as possible.

“Goodnight, Kagome. I love you.”

“Love you too, mama.” She smiled, enjoying her warm touch before she left the room, leaving the door cracked.

It was only moments later that a small knock on her door greeted her, bringing her attention back over as her younger brother snuck through, quietly closing it all the way.

“Hey.” Sota whispered, seeming uncertain where he lingered. Kagome knew what he’d shown up for though, so she crawled out of bed. It’s almost like her welcome served as his initiative, and he moved forward, somewhat hurriedly, meeting her halfway and colliding straight into a hug.

His arms wrapped firmly around her sides, fingers gripping into the back of her shirt as his cheek pushed uncomfortably into the bone of her shoulder. He didn’t care. Sota only pulled his sister closer, unable to take a full breath from the frazzled nerves that kept him from letting her go just yet.

“Come back.”

“I will.” Kagome responded softly.

“Be safe.”

“You, too.”

Sota somehow managed to pull her even closer, holding her as tight as his arms would allow. “I mean it, Kagome. I know you can do it. So, prove it.”

Kagome appreciated the challenge. He knew it was something that got her heart sparking and the gears in her mind turning to find solutions.

He felt the nod she gave, her own arms matching his fervor as they wrapped snuggly around his shoulders. “And, you’re sure there’s no way I can talk you out of this?”

Kagome giggled lightly, shaking her head. “Come on, you’re really gonna say that after giving me encouragement?”

Sota chuckled, himself. “Worth a shot.” He said, finally releasing his sister and taking a step back. “Do you have everything you’ll need?”

“I think so. I should be good.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Isn’t that the question of the century.” She stated more than asked, the sarcasm clear on her tongue. Broadening her shoulders, Kagome leveled her expression, her brown eyes locking with Sota’s. “Look, I need you to do some things while I’m gone. You’re going to have to be strong. Don’t worry about having to be strong enough for the both of us in my absence; I don’t want that pressure on your shoulders. But, you’ll still need to amp it up a bit, buddy. Keep mama safe, and help Miroku with the heavy duty stuff - he won’t be able to lift things for a while. Things are going to be tense when they find out I’m gone, so expect a spike in stress levels, okay?”

“Okay.” He gave a curt nod.

“Help mama. I know this is going to be hard on her. Tell her I love her. Please.”

“I will.”

“When and if Naraku’s men come back, whatever you do, do not bring attention to the fact that I’m missing. Hopefully, they won’t even notice, but I made the mistake of standing out today so there is a possibility. If they do happen to notice, make something up. Tell them I’m out at the market or something. You know the drill. And, lastly, I need you to take care of yourself. You can’t help if you’re sick or hurt. Mama would be devastated if anything happened to you, and I’m not going to be around to protect you. So, here’s your first lesson in fighting: prioritize your safety and wellbeing. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Sota appeared to have stood up taller as he said that, nodding again as his brows twitched with determination. “What about Miroku?”

“He can’t do much in his current condition. Hopefully, he’ll be back on his feet soon, but as of right now, he’s out. We’re covered with wood and food for a while, and Sango and Kohaku will be more than happy to help out - and most likely will without even being asked - but that still means you’ll have to compensate here and there. When it comes to Naraku’s men, he can take care of himself, but he can’t step in for anyone at the moment. Just - I don’t know - do whatever you feel is the smartest thing depending on the situation. You’re pretty clever, so I have faith in you. I’m assuming once Miroku’s back to normal, or close enough, he’ll be on my tail.”

“I figured that, too. Good luck whenever that happens.”

Kagome let out an overwhelmed snicker. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

“Anything else?” He asked, seemingly taking mental notes on everything she tasked him with.

Kagome took a moment to rack her brain, unable to come up with something off the top of her head. She kept opening her mouth to say something, her tongue clicking, but she’d stop herself every time because she’d realized she’d only be repeating herself. Resolutely, she shook her head.

“Right. Well, I’ve got things covered here, sis. You don’t have to worry about it. Just focus on your goal.”

“Big words.” Kagome grinned, admiring her younger sibling. “I’m not worried about a thing. I trust you.” She saw his shoulders widen at the confidence she presented him with, observing how his smile was one of pride. “Remember what I said, okay? This is officially your first bit of training.”

“Right.”

“Good. Now, go back to bed. Mama’s still awake, and she might notice you’re up soon.” Kagome said, ruffling her brother’s hair.

“Okay. I guess this is goodbye.” There was a slight waver in his lips, in his tone.

“No.” Kagome gave a scrunch of her nose. “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.” He mouthed, the whisper of his tongue hardly notable. Sota gave her one last glance before slipping from her bedroom, shutting the door on his way out.

Kagome listened to the rain with as much contentment as was possible in the anticipating moment, the thunder never returning from it’s earlier pause. She felt they were on the latter half of the storm that would soon calm and clear away, and figured it would only be another couple of hours before she could slip out and begin her unnerving adventure. Laying her head against her pillow, she got comfortable, eyes on the dancing flame of her candle as she busied her efforts to keep the nervous thoughts at bay. She wondered where she was meant to go and what, exactly, she was meant to do out there. What did Kikyo mean by this being their responsibility? Were other conjurers actually in the mix? Would she meet them soon after leaving here? Or, was she bound to be alone until joining the group immediately before their fight with Naraku? Additionally, how soon was that fight going to be? Tomorrow? Next week? Months from now? Sometimes, Kagome felt that not knowing the answers was the worst form of lack of control to exist.

But, then the earlier thought returned to her mind. What if there were no other conjurers? It didn’t mean that there were no other surviving conjurers out there, it was more like she was the only conjurer Kikyo was in communication with. Was that the case? For some horrible reason, Kagome had the gut wrenching feeling that it was true. When Kikyo said “ours,” she meant Kagome and herself. It didn’t make sense, though. Why? What about Kagome attracted Kikyo’s undivided attention?

It was an idea that Kagome told herself over and over to put to rest. There was no use in figuring out someone else’s thought process. There was no use fighting for control over something she didn’t even know how to gain control over. There was only flowing with the process, trusting it, and figuring things out along the way. What was stronger than the gut feeling that she may potentially be the only conjurer Kikyo was referring to, was that things would eventually sort themselves out. Things would be okay. She just had to take it all one step at a time.

As soon as she’d closed her eyes, Kagome found herself at the base of the tree line at the back of their house. It was dark, barely drizzling, the mud beneath her feet more of a liquid than a clumpy mess of wet dirt. She was dressed in what she wore earlier that day, her hand bleeding, dripping of her own and the child’s blood. Her cheek still stung from the slap she’d received from that monster, her throat aching with the reminder of each finger he’d wrapped around her neck, and her head a confused and clustered mess of unsorted thoughts. She was soaked through, shivering from the anxiety and the cold, and when she looked through the break in the trees, as dark as it was, she saw a woman’s figure looking back at her. She stood beside the rope ladder that led to the treehouse Kagome and Sota’s father had built for them, her fingers hooking around the rope to make it swing.

Kagome blinked profusely, trying to make her eyes adjust faster to the lack of light, trying to make her eyes focus on each detail of the woman several feet away from her. She had skin as light as pearl, the curves of someone a little more mature than she, eyes that were too dark to catch a shred of a glimmer but still, somehow, held the evidence of someone who’d seen too much for her age. Her hair, long, ebony, straight, hanging loosely over her shoulders and down to her hips was the dead giveaway. Kikyo. It was Kikyo.

“You.” Kagome breathed.

“Wake up.” Kikyo said, walking closer. She was dressed in perfectly-fitted pants, a tucked and loose blouse - so loose, it looked like she may have taken a man’s shirt and made it her own - and leather boots that met her knees. Over her shoulder sat a leather quiver filled with arrows, a bow strapped right next to it.

“What?”

“It’s time to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Kagome, stop asking questions.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course, I do. I know plenty about you and what you offer; you should know that by now. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

Kagome held her breath, waiting for the words this powerful conjurer was about to say. Her stomach twisted and knotted, her lip trembled with nerves she couldn’t fight, and all aching in the rest of her body went silent. This was surreal. It was the clearest she’d ever seen Kikyo. It was the loudest she’d ever heard her. This wasn’t a pre-recorded memo delivered to her unconscious state; Kagome actually felt like she was living out this moment.

“It’s time to go.”

Kikyo stood at the edge of the tree line. At the edge of the forest. Her dark eyes locked with Kagome’s, not a single thing about her unsteady, unsure, or fragmented.

Her lips parted once more, her tone more demanding and direct. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”

Kagome gasped, eyes shooting open as she stared at the weakened fire of the candle she’d never blown out. Had she fallen asleep? For how long?

She listened carefully, taking in her surroundings. There was barely any sound of rain, the house was painfully quiet, and the world outside seemed at peace. Still, her mind was loud, energetic, alive with Kikyo’s statement. It was time to go.

Kagome got out of bed, lowering to her knees to reach beneath and pull her things forward. Hastily, she dressed in her chosen outfit, tying her bodice securely and then shoving her feet into the boots beside her closet to pull up and sit snugly mid-calf. In her little mirror, she fixed up her face and ran her fingers through her hair, feeling as satisfied as one could feel in a spontaneous moment to leave.

And, it needed to remain spontaneous. Kagome couldn’t allow herself a moment to look back at the room, the house, and bask in the nostalgia and happy memories. If she did, the doubt would only have a crack to seep back through. Kagome couldn’t allow herself a moment to wish her family well and say goodbye. Spontaneous meant now, and now it was. It was time to go.

Silently, Kagome pushed her window open after strapping her bag over her shoulder. The air was nippy and she wished she’d thought to grab her cloak, but it hung in the entryway of their home. There was no easy or worthwhile way to grab it. She’d be fine. It wasn’t winter, so no matter what, she wouldn’t freeze to death. Kagome climbed over and out, hanging onto the windowsill until she knew her feet would meet the ground without slipping from beneath her.

It was like the action of leaving simultaneously stole the breath from her lungs and gave her vigor. It was terrifying and happening, but nothing was stopping her right now. She kept her sloshing footsteps as quiet as she could, making her way around the siding of their home and toward the back where she’d seen Kikyo.

She wasn’t there. Kagome wasn’t all that surprised, but the dream had seemed so vivid. It was like the conjurer had literally stood just feet away a mere moment ago, and yet the gap in the trees remained as empty as ever. Still, Kagome pushed herself to follow through, resisting the fluttering sensation in her chest to turn around one last time. To give a mental goodbye. She couldn’t.

Somehow, walking through the forest line felt like she was walking through a barrier of sorts. She’d traveled through numerous times, but this time was different. It was like passing through a wall, the boundary holding everything back but her, signifying the beginning of whatever Kagome was bound to face.

She walked up the little path, her eyes still wandering about, looking for Kikyo. When she’d caught something moving to the left in front of her, her attention snapped that way immediately, surprised with the sight of the rope ladder gently swaying. There was no wind to be had, the drizzle of the ending storm barely making it through the treetops to freckle Kagome’s cheeks.

“Kikyo?” She asked, her voice still raspy from the damage she’d taken - and, she figured it would remain that way for a few days at the very least.

No answer.

“Kikyo, are you there?” Kagome tried again, approaching the ladder and grabbing it to stop the rhythm.

Silence.

“Where do I go?” But, as soon as the question had left her tongue, she felt in her core that she knew the answer. She had a plan to head to the cave they’d always trained at on the far outskirts of the village. That’s where they’d hidden their supplies for the day they’d eventually leave. That’s where her bow and arrows were.

Kagome headed that way, her pace quick. There was no way in hell she was about to be alone in the dark, traveling the woodlands without a weapon to keep her safe. The entire way there, and especially as she got closer, she kept her senses alert. If there were demons around, she needed to be careful. Thankfully, she felt absolutely nothing in the air. She was safe. So, she ran through the entrance of the cave, traveling toward a nook, and pulling out the bag.

She found herself mentally apologizing to Miroku and Sango for, what felt like, thievery. Hopefully, if they ever decided to come after her - which was a terrifying thought, because she couldn’t imagine her cousin going easy on her when they caught up - they’d think ahead to restock. She could imagine them being impulsive, grabbing the items, and heading off without realizing she’d taken some important things, but knowing Miroku, as smart as he was capable of being, he’d realize Kagome wouldn’t walk out empty-handed.

The medical supplies were on the top of her list, so she fished them out and transferred the kit into the bag she planned to carry. Then some dried food they’d recently collected, because she really wasn’t the best hunter. She could catch fish pretty well, but when it came to land animals, for some reason, it was a completely different story. The half-full water canteen was next, and she went ahead and took a sip of it before sliding the bottle to sit at the side of her bag. Kagome shoved her hand to the very bottom of the sack, wriggling her fingers to find the handle to something that must have gotten buried beneath everything else by accident. When she felt the cold end of the metal butt, she grasped for it, pulling free the small hunting knife that used to belong to her father.

It was something he’d always carried on him, something he’d purchased before she was even born, and when his ashes were buried, she’d not-so-subtly stolen the knife away so it wasn’t taken with him. She slipped the sheathed blade into the side of her boot, moving her leg around so it fit comfortably in between.

There was a pocket on the inside of the bag, and she reached in, pulling out a pouch of money they’d raised together doing little side jobs around the area and even outside of town. That one she felt the worst for taking, but there was no way she could do this without something to fall back on. It was for emergencies, and she would be frugal. Once Kagome had grabbed all that she’d come for, she walked to the opposite side of the cave. Behind a large rock, safe and tucked away from plain view, sat Sango’s sword, Miroku’s staff, and Kagome’s own bow and quiver of arrows. She carefully made sure the other weapons didn’t fall as she pulled hers free, adjusting the quiver and bow to sit securely over her shoulder.

Feeling confident that she had all that she needed, Kagome headed out. Without stopping to figure out a direction, she let her feet and gut lead the way, careful of her footing over rocks until she met the muddy path that guided her deep into the forest. It was still pitch black out, the moon hidden behind thick clouds that once roared over their village. Kagome couldn’t move as fast as she wanted at the moment, her eyes refusing to completely adjust, and therefore having to mind what she walked over carefully.

She walked until light began to show over the distant mountains, a very patchy, blue and grey glow greeting the new day. It had been hours and Kagome was fatigued, willing to bet she’d only dozed off for a short amount of time before she left her home. The morning smelled of dew, the clouds above her were thinning, little sections beginning to break away for the first time in several days.

The ground wasn’t as wet here, having apparently managed to travel far enough away from the center of the storm. Her heels didn’t sink into the earth, and the air didn’t smell of rain. Hadn’t in miles. She felt no demonic or dangerous forces around, didn’t hear the wake up call of the animals, and knew she was safe and alone.

The mere thought of wandering further at the moment was exhausting. She’d gotten far enough away from her town, and didn’t recognize a single thing around her. So, she located a small clearing a little ways off of her path, one that seemed dry and cozy enough - relatively speaking, of course. She gathered wood and kindling that wasn’t wet, which was a feat on it’s own; she was ready to give up before she found enough to start a little fire for warmth. And, as Kagome got it going, bathing in the heat it provided as it grew to a moderate size, she leaned back against a tree, snuggling up to herself. Honestly, she’d meant to stay awake. Her intentions were merely to rest until she could gather enough energy to continue on and find an inn of some sort far off. Evidently, her eyes had a plan of their own; a more domineering plan. They grew heavy, they stung with weariness, and they closed of their own accord, dragging Kagome to sleep.

—

Boots clapped against the ground, amber eyes, illuminated and daring, locked on their target. He smiled crookedly, tongue gliding over his fang while he shrugged his brows. His silver hair, held back in a high ponytail, swayed to the side as the hanyou cocked his head slightly, his sword braced over his shoulder.

“Why’d you run?” Inuyasha asked.

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#monster #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #miroku #sango #mirsan #my writing #akitokihojo

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fallingfor-fics · 3 years

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Teachers pet-chapter 22: forbidden forest

All chapters

Chapter 21

It was the next day and id not gone to breakfast or any of my classes. It was Lunchtime and I was supposed to be in Snape's room for lessons. But after last night, I didn't have the energy to get out of bed. I didn't know what it was but I just couldn't seem to move from the spot. Hermione had come to check on me after I had missed breakfast and I just told her I wasn't feeling well. I know she didn't believe me, but she didn't press any further. I felt guilty for not telling Snape that I was gonna be absent from our tutoring sessions today. I guess I could send a note. I reached out for a journal in my bag and tore out a piece of paper.

Dear Professor Snape,

I'm afraid I've come down with something and will not be attending our lessons, or class today. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Y/n

I forced myself to get up folding the note and opening my window. I got Hera out of her cage and gave the note to her, she took it in her beak and I walked her over to the window. "Get this to Professor Snape please. She cooed and flew off my arm out the window. I went and crawled back into my bed pulling the covers up over me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't see him after last night, it was too embarrassing, and him not talking about it only made it worse. How did he feel about me now? I thought about what Dumbledore had said. But there was no way the universe would give me the opportunity of me earning this man's affection. I closed my eyes in hopes to just fall asleep so I wouldn't have to worry about these petulant thoughts. But with my luck I couldn't. I remembered the book Ruth had given me and lazily grabbed it from my bag. I looked over the title once more, laying back down and began to read it.

Hera flew to Snapes window landing on his windowsill with a small flutter. He looked up over at her and opened his window. He didn't recognize this owl and was a bit confused at first, he was wondering where you were and why he hadn't seen you all day. He took the note from the owl and looked it over. Had he messed up giving you those lessons? Did you feel violated from him entering your mind the way he did? He was afraid he'd overstepped. He grabbed parchment and a quill and began writing back to you. Halfway through he realized you'd probably not want to speak to him. Unless you were telling the truth and he was just being foolish, and you really were sick. He pondered for a moment before getting up and walking over to his potions closet, he found a small versatile antidote for any common illness and walked back over to his desk, handing it to Hera. "See to it this gets to Ms. L/n" he said as the owl took off out his window and he sat back down at his desk.

I saw Hera flying back in and sat up holding out my hand for her to land on, I noticed a small vial she was holding and she dropped it in my hand. There was nothing else though besides a note that read:

Ms. L/n

This should help with your illness, be careful and don't drink too much or you may get drowsy. I hope you feel better.

Professor Snape

I gave a small smile at the fact he cared enough to send me this, I guess he really did think of us as friends. If only I could get him to think of me as more. I mean it couldn't be too hard could it? Getting the lonesome, cold, and mean Professor to return my feelings. Easier said than done I guess. I thought back to that book I took. Make him jealous? Could that even be done? I shook away the foolish thoughts and opened the vial. "Well i'm not actually sick so should I really take this?" I said, talking to the only person in the room, myself, and Hera I guess. She just looked at me and turned her head. "Well that wasn't a no" I took a swig and almost threw it up immediately. "Holy shit for a potions professor he really gave me the worst tasting potion ever." I took one more sip not sure how much was too much and put the cap back on, sticking it in my trunk at the end of my bed. I grabbed my book again and continued reading it. It was very interesting so far. It was about an older gentleman, very intelligent living in Paris, and he had a particular taste in women, for they weren't women but young girls. I squirmed at the thought, what kind of grown man would like 12 year olds, it's very gross, but I couldn't help to think about the way he talked about his feelings. I hated to say it, he was a bad man, but he didn like them in nasty horrific ways I guess. I paused for a moment thinking about my Professor. He was what 36? And I'm 16 almost 17. Well when I put it that way it definitely makes it worse. He would never love me simply for the fact I'm a child. I got about halfway through the book throughout the day, fighting the sleepiness I began to feel. He had now met Lolita and was explaining how he felt for her, and how she felt for him. In the beginning I was repulsed by the idea of him and a girl. But she loved him and he loved her, it wasn't focused on the idea she was young, just how he felt for her in his heart. This gave me the smallest bit of hope. Maybe if Severus liked me for me and looked past the 20 year age gap it wouldn't seem like such a big deal. I mean this is all irrational thinking anyways since he'd never actually develop the feelings I'm hoping for. I looked up out my window and quickly got up realizing it was already dark. I had missed dinner, and usually this is when Id go for more lessons with Snape. I still could make it if I tried, but it doesn't change what had happened last night and if we were... normal again. I decided against it and took out the vial, sipping more than last time, and layed down. I felt myself grow very sleepy and drift off into sleep, hoping I could just sleep the rest of the week.

I woke up dazed and confused, how long was I out? I looked around and saw it was still dark outside. I looked over at my clock and it read midnight. Is it midnight today? Or of tomorrow? I slowly got up and walked over to the calendar Ruth had taped to the wall next to her bed. Ok so it's still Tuesday, well I guess Wednesday now since it's past midnight. I went to the bathroom and realized I was still in my nightgown, never having changed out of it. I felt nasty though, it makes sense since I was in bed all day. I went to my trunk grabbing my shower bag and new pajamas. I took a quick hot much needed shower and brushed out my hair. Slipping on my underwear, dark green silk pajama pants and a matching silk black tank top. I exited the bathroom letting all the steam out and opened my window a tad. When I did I noticed a note that was on the windowsill, but since it was on the outside it fell and I reached to grab it but it fell outside, I huffed looking down at it and leaned back inside, slipping on some socks and putting on a black knit cardigan, and grabbing my wand. I quietly tiptoed out of the common room into the dungeon hallways, I guess I could have just used magic to grab it, but I needed the air after being in my room all day. I quietly illuminated my wand and began walking to go outside. I didn't see any teachers so far, thankfully. It was kind of late so I doubted there would be a lot of them walking around. As I walked I looked at the dimly lit paintings and such, admiring all of them. I walked out the doors and shivered as I walked into the cold air. Holy fuck its cold, it thought as I walked around to wear my window was. I saw the note on the lightly sodden ground and quickly ran over to it picking it up and unrolling it.

But when I got it open I realized it was blank. I furrowed my brow looking on the front and back, why would this be delivered to me if it had nothing on it? I had assumed it was from Snape about not coming to our evening lessons, but it had nothing on it. I pulled out my wand and held out the note, "Aparecium" I whispered hoping maybe the note was written in invisible ink or something. Sure enough a short note began to appear. But all it said was "Go here" after I read it a small map began to appear. Ok what? There's no way this is real, someone must be messing with me. I looked around me, still outside, but saw no one. I looked back at the paper trying to figure out where it was going to lead me. I looked back up looking around for any students that might be pulling a prank but didn't see any. This could be a very bad idea I thought to myself. I don't wanna get into trouble, but then again I figured it might be important. I began to study the map once more and looked at it intently, it was a very vague map, I wasn't sure where anything correlated to. I began to walk back inside and noticed an arrow on the map move as I moved, I turned and walked th either direction and it still followed me. Wow so I guess i'm just supposed to trust this random arrow to follow the lines. I looked around once more and decided I would at least need my shoes, I looked up to my window and summoned my boots, I slipped them on and let the map guide me.

I took me around the outside of the school and down towards Hagrid's hut. Hmm maybe Hagrid sent it and thought I wouldn't remember how to get to his house. But then again I go here all the time for class, and why wouldn't he just come get me? I kept following the arrow and it took me past his hut and over to the Whomping willow, I knew better than to go there so I stopped. This is weird. Why is it taking me here? I looked at the tree and walked very far around it. The arrow followed and I continued on its path as I got in safe distance from the scary tree. I could see my breath in the cold air and was certain my cheeks and nose were red. I'm sure it didn't help that I had wet hair. I beard the end of the map, my supposed destination and looked up to see where it led me. You have got to be kidding me. It took me right to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Ok this has to be a joke, no way i'm going in there" I said out loud looking around for any sign for what I should do. I looked back at the map and flipped it around trying to figure out if I had gone to the wrong place. But the arrow had turned into an x and I looked back up at the forest. I knew of all kinds of creatures that inhabited this forest, Unicorns, centaurs, werewolves, and hippogriffs to name a few, I was fairly skilled in DADA. But I don't think I could fight off any of these by myself. And Hagrid had told me the stories of the students that disappeared in the forest, so why in my right mind would I listen to a random note and go in. Harry had even told me of the time he and Draco were sent in to find a injured unicorn and ran into The Dark Lord himself, I mean there's no reason the dark lord would want anything to do with me so I highly doubt id see him but the thought still carried in my mind.

#snape imagine #severusnape #professor snape #snape #severus snape #severusimagine #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #hogwarts #slytherin #Snape slowburn

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

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Look at the mesmerizing artwork by @teamhook. Can you spot the villain of this little story?

In the Offing

Chapter 18 — The Stable Boy

Summary: In which our heroine misplaces something

Chapter 18 on AO3

“A guilty conscience means at least you’ve got one

Who will forgive you when I’m gone?”

-Here He Comes, The Wallflowers

“That went further than I intended,” Killian whispered against her throat. She could feel his smile against the sensitive skin and knew that while his words sounded like the beginning of an apology, it was really more of an observation on their current status. Their completely unclothed, totally sated status.

“Hmm, there is something about the motion of the water,” Emma said by way of agreement. She was lazily running her fingers through his mussed hair, appreciating the way the thick, short locks felt silky in her hands. His laughter rumbled through his chest and she gave in to the temptation to run her fingers through the hair there as well.

“I’ll make a pirate out of you yet, Swan.”

“Well, I need to do something special for a man who would trade a secluded afternoon with the most famous actress in the world to spend time with his unknown, magnet-for-trouble house guest.”

She should get up. Lord only knew if there were locks on the door or if they could be interrupted. However, she wasn’t lying about the sensation of being lulled to sleep by the waves. Although sleep was the furthest thing from her mind a few minutes ago.

“House guest? Is that the label we’re going with? How about girlfriend? Lover? Angel? Magnificent creature?” He punctuated each question with a nuzzle against a different section of exposed flesh. “Besides, I am a seafaring man and all sailors know that it’s bad luck to have a redhead on board. Thank goodness I didn’t have to take her out on the open seas. You may never have seen me again.”

“That would have been a shame. I do enjoy seeing you. The more of you, the better.” She allowed her hands to wander over the expanse of skin on display, thankful that the afternoon was warm since there was only one sheet and their picnic blanket from the other day to cover up with. Her eyes had drifted closed during their idle exchange but she cracked open her left to look at him as she felt the bed shift under his movements. He had propped himself up on his elbow and was resting on his side. She was surprised to see his expression had turned serious. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think it’s time we talk. I like the odds of you staying put since you’re naked,” he added with some of his usual swagger.

“If you’re ready,” she told him. Reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, she knew that nothing he said would make any difference to her. She was too far gone already. The only possible outcome was she would fall deeper under his spell. “No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know what those words mean to me, love.” He pressed a forceful kiss to her lips and returned to his earlier position. His eyes focused out the window and glazed over as he became lost in his memories. When he spoke, his voice had deepened with emotion. “Liam and I moved here a decade ago with one purpose and one purpose only: To find Frederick’s bloody treasure trove. There was nothing for us in England, hadn’t been in years really. I was graduating and Liam was finishing up his enlistment with the Navy. To my surprise, he didn’t doubt for a moment my claims that I could find our fortune on the rocky beaches of Maine. So off we went without a backward glance at the shores of our ancestors.”

She could imagine a younger Killian, full of life and confidence, pulling along his older, more seasoned brother. After all, no one was more jaded than her and she was already prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth.

“It took us more time to find the pub in Storybrooke than it did to find the first treasure hoard. Oh, Emma, I wish you could have been there.” His grin was something that belonged on a schoolboy’s face, not a man in his mid-thirties. Unable to help herself, she reached up and traced it with her fingertips. He captured her wayward digits and pressed a heartfelt kiss to the tips. “Most pirate treasure was in the form of goods like timber, cotton, sugar, or tobacco. But good old Frederick didn’t disappoint. There was enough silver to make us wealthy even by today’s standards. There were some interesting historical bits as well that will one day find their way into a museum but I won’t bore you with those details.”

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured with a chuckle. “What did you do with it? Aren’t you supposed to alert the authorities when you find stuff like that?”

“I want to be a better man for you, Swan, but I will never be a saint. We haven’t disclosed any of our findings. We simply dip in when we need something extra. Some day we’ll let it see the light of day but for now it rests in Davy Jones’ locker.”

“Wait, I know that one. You mean it’s hidden under the sea?”

“No, we put it in my grandfather’s old locker and buried it under the cottage. It’s the only thing my father left behind when he abandoned us all those years ago.” When she rolled her eyes at him, he simply chuckled. “But to answer your question, the laws vary by state and country. Maine is actually quite lenient with their buried treasure as long as it isn’t found on state property. Luckily, two of the piles we found were on my land at the cottage. Technically, I didn’t own the land when I found the first one but it was under contract. I quickly remedied that and it was all above board when I found the second stash a few days later. That one had more coins and a few loose gemstones.”

“Gemstones?” Visions of The Goonies filled Emma’s mind and she had to stop herself from asking about One-Eyed Willy. Because, as fantastical as it seemed, the man who held her heart in his hands also had a knack for finding buried treasure. A gift she hoped he would survive considering someone out there desperately wanted to get their hands on it.

“Yes, darling,” he answered. “I think several have your name on them.��

“No way,” she argued. “I don’t want any of it. What if it’s cursed?”

“Cursed, you say?” He looked thoughtful as the sunlight was momentarily blocked by an errant storm cloud outside. “Yes, I suppose that may be true. Shortly after I uncovered the third pile, I went to the Rabbit Hole to celebrate my victory. Liam had just met Elsa so I was on my own for the most part those days. Not that it mattered, you know how this town takes to new people so I never lacked companionship for a drink or...whatever.”

“Whatever, indeed,” Emma teased in her best impression of his accent. She sensed he was coming to the part of his story that was the most difficult to relay and tried to infuse some humor into the conversation.

With a rueful grin that acknowledged her effort, both with the accent and the humor, he continued. “I met Milah that night. She was a sight to behold in the dim light of the bar, vibrant in a way that seemed too much for this little town.” He narrowed his eyes as they made contact with hers. “I didn’t know at first that she was married. Lads of twenty-four aren’t known for pumping the brakes when a beautiful woman gives them nothing but green lights and I was no different. Honestly, I was probably worse. I was a rash young man far from home and high on my own cleverness. It never occurred to me to question my good fortune or wonder why no one else was vying for her attention.”

“How far gone were you when you found out the truth?”

“Completely,” he confessed with a shaky breath. “The fight we had when I found out, well, it would have melted paint off the walls. I was a dirty little secret, the younger man who captured her attention but not her affections. It was always like that with her. She was so restless. Always moving, always searching. Nothing was ever enough. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t enough either. She wanted someone to rescue her from a life of boredom, someone who would carry her away and show her the world and fill her days with adventures. I couldn’t be that for her but I nearly destroyed myself trying to be.”

He was lost in the past, his eyes distant and filled with pain. Reliving the end of the most meaningful relationship of your life wasn’t easy, Emma definitely understood that. Especially when you gave all you had to it and it still collapsed in pieces around you.

“Her husband came to visit me one night toward the end. Offered me money to break it off,” he scoffed as if the idea still insulted him. “I refused of course, convinced he was the villain in our little drama and that I would win the heart of the fair maiden in the end. At it turned out, I was wrong on both counts. The villain was the fair maiden. Mr. Gold and I were both pawns in her scheme to escape a life she hated. When she had the opportunity, she took the money and ran. In my kinder moments, I feel sorry for her knowing she must have felt trapped. But then I remember the way the whole town thought I killed her and any kindness I’m able to scare up disappears. Just like she did.”

“You’ve never heard from her? You have no idea what happened to her?”

“No. When it ended, it ended badly. She wanted me to take her husband’s money so we could leave town together, was angry when I refused to be chased off into the night. It was then that I realized she didn’t care who she was with, as long as she wasn’t in Storybrooke. It was a tough blow to stomach. I only saw her one time after that, a couple of nights before she disappeared. She showed up at the cottage to apologize. Told me she would never regret our relationship but it was time to move on. She left the map as a parting gift. I knew then that she meant to leave. Make no mistake, Emma, Milah is alive and well somewhere on this globe, living her life to the fullest and not sparing a thought for anyone in this town.”

“Then her absence is no great loss,” she observed.

He shook his head slowly as if he wasn’t sure he agreed with her assessment. “The day after she stopped by for the last time was when I pulled my idiotic stunt. I got drunk and tried to sail directly into a Nor’easter. Liam caught me at the docks and insisted on coming with me when he couldn’t talk me out of leaving. Our boat capsized about a mile up the coast. I’m only glad I was able to pull him to shore.”

“You saved his life? One-handed in a gale?”

With a bitter twist of his lips, he bit out, “Not sure you’ll allowed to claim such a thing when the only reason a person was in danger in the first place is because of you. He was trapped under the broken mast. I’m still not sure how I got him out but I crushed my hand in the process. Got a pretty nasty infection and the doctors told me the hand couldn’t be saved and if I wasn’t lucky, I’d lose the arm too. Seemed like a no-brainer.”

She felt the tension gripping him and trailed her hands down his left arm, running her fingers over the smooth scars she felt there. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t relax either. “We’re all scarred in one way or another, Killian. Yours are a bit more on display than the average person but this shows that you are a survivor. I’m beginning to think it might be a bad idea for me to find Milah. She has a lot to answer for.”

“You know, I’ve tried to track her down but I’m afraid I don’t have your abilities at finding those who don’t wish to be found. I thought I had tracked her to Paris a few years ago, there was a new artist there that had her style of sketching but I could never be sure and they disappeared before I could make contact. I still have a file on my desktop with the various artwork I found in the gallery catalogues. I always thought I’d pick up the search again later.”

A little afraid to hear his answer, she nevertheless asked, “Why do you want to find her?”

“At first, I missed her. I wanted to hear her voice. Pathetic, right?” When Emma simply gave him a look that clearly disagreed, he smiled at her. “Hmm, my secretly romantic Swan. You have a tender heart that I adore but don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know.” He looked at her with such fondness that she was tempted to go for round two right then. However, on some level, she knew this conversation was more important than their physical connection.

Unaware of her thoughts, he admitted, “Lately I’ve wanted closure. Not for the relationship. It’s been dead and gone for years. For the case, in order to clear my name. I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not particularly proud of since I arrived here but I would like any doubt removed about this crime.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, perhaps we can find her together,” she offered shyly.

“Emma, everything I have is yours,” Killian told her. With a laugh he added, “Including the gold bars I found in the third treasure hoard I uncovered.” Taking her in his arms, he held her as they laid in the Captain’s Quarters in peaceful silence.

—

The rain that had threatened in the afternoon made good on its promise by the time they arrived back at the cottage with carryout from the pizza place. Fortunately, it was the kind of summer rain that moved through quickly and left the air feeling crisp and clean.

After her third slice of pepperoni, Emma leaned back in the patio chair and sighed. “I’m supposed to meet Graham tonight to search the woods. I guess I should head back to Mary Margaret’s place eventually anyway.”

With a quizzical look, Killian took a sip of his iced tea. “A date with another man and moving out? Have I done something to offend you?”

“Very funny,” she retorted. “I think we’ve gotten things a little out of order but there’s no reason to rush into this.”

“Darling, we have already fallen headfirst into the fast lane. There’s no reason to get scared now. Besides, I happen to know that David and Mary Margaret have reached the toothbrush phase of their relationship. You will be taking your sanity into your own hands if you head back there tonight. David is a loud...sleeper.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” Emma said with a shiver of disgust. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to stay with you for the foreseeable future. If you don’t have any other plans, you can also join me on my date. We’re looking for bodies in the woods.”

With a grimace, Killian studied her profile. “Okay but only if I get to plan our next outing. A man likes some mystery in a relationship but dead bodies are a little overboard.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Jones.”

Forewarned about the activities for the evening consisting mainly of traversing hilly, overgrown terrain, Emma did a better job of dressing the part. Outfitted with flashlights from Killian’s emergency kit, she knew if the search lasted beyond the light of the midsummer sun they wouldn’t injure themselves in the dark at least.

Arriving at the Sheriff’s station shortly thereafter, Emma was surprised to find it empty and unlocked. Since another brief summer rain was moving through town, she texted Graham and they decided to wait it out at the station. Twenty minutes later, the rain was over but she still hadn’t heard from the sheriff. “That’s weird. He’s usually better about replying.”

“Text him a lot, do you?”

With a amused shake of her head, she admonished him. “Now is not the time to be jealous, Killian. He’s a friend and, unless I’m mistaken, he’s your friend too.”

“He’s not an enemy,” Killian conceded grudgingly. With a hint of teasing, he said, “But perhaps he is competition.” He moved around the station nonchalantly as if he might find the sheriff under a pile of papers or resting in one of the cells at the back of the open room.

With a deep breath, she walked over to him and linked her arms around his neck. “Not in my eyes. I’m not sure how to convince you that you’ve ruined me for other men.”

“I can think of some persuasive methods that will get your point across.” His roguish eyebrow was cocked in a way that she always found so endearing and sexy. “Why don’t we postpone this search party and you can give it your best shot? I promise to keep an open mind.”

“Keeping an open mind has never been your problem,” she laughed, playfully punching him in the arm. “I have a job to do so stop trying to distract me. We’ll have to go without Graham. We’re losing daylight and I’m running out of time before Henry comes home.”

What she didn’t add was the crossroads his arrival would bring. As much as she had fought against this thing with Killian, now that she was in, she was all in. While the four hour drive to Boston was not an insurmountable distance, she found the idea of being separated distasteful. She knew it was a conversation they needed to have and she wasn’t avoiding it exactly. Her rational mind kept reminding her that they had only met a month ago and people didn’t fall in love and move to different states after a few weeks of knowing someone. Especially single mothers who had children to think about.

Having officially given up on the sheriff, they headed toward the town line. Minutes later, they arrived to find the cruiser already parked on the narrow shoulder, driver side door open and cabin lights on. Jumping out of the truck, Emma exchanged a worried look with Killian and observed, “This looks like trouble.”

He followed her to the cruiser and placed his hand on the front seat. “It’s dry so he probably didn’t get here until after the rain moved through.”

“Graham!” Shouting his name repeatedly probably wasn’t an effective strategy but damn if she could think of anything else to do. Settling in the driver’s seat she found the keys still in the ignition and his walkie on the dashboard. Picking it up, she paged David. Within a minute, he answered, confusion evident in his tone.

“Emma? Why do you have Graham’s walkie?”

“We found his cruiser at the town line. No sign of him. We’re going out to the woods to search but you probably want to get here as quickly as possible. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole scene.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait for me.”

True to his word, David’s battered old Ford pick-up pulled behind their truck in record time. Mary Margaret had made the journey with him and as soon as the car was in park, she rushed to Emma’s side. “Still no sign of him?”

“No,” Killian answered with his eyes scanning the thick woods.

“He headed this direction and he was in a hurry,” the brunette observed, her finger pointing toward an invisible trail as if it were obvious. At Emma’s silent question, she explained, “All-State Orienteering champion and the best tracker in town besides Ruby. Knowing your way around the forest is still a skill set that’s valued in Maine.”

“Sure. I mean, why not?” Emma said sarcastically. “Why don’t you lead the way then? We’ve already wasted time waiting around the station.”

Grabbing the flashlight that David handed her, Mary Margaret stepped off the shoulder and moved noiselessly into the woods. She would occasionally murmur an observation regarding a broken twig or boot print in the soft ground. Emma made a point to try to locate whatever signs the other woman noted on their pursuit but was only able to see the tracks occasionally. In no time at all, they had circled back up the hill to come out at the road not even a quarter of a mile from the cruiser. “Great. Back were we started.”

“No,” Mary Margaret disagreed. “Look here.” She squatted down and shined a beam of light on the asphalt.

Sure enough, Emma saw some kind of liquid that had dripped on the road. “What is that? Motor oil?” Reaching down, she lightly pressed her finger in one of the droplets and smeared it against her thumb. Looking at the bright red color, a chill ran through her. “Blood.”

“And tire tracks from an SUV if I had to guess,” David added, his light illuminating the wide tracks partially visible on the wet dirt of the shoulder. “Someone took him.” He immediately started back toward his truck, getting on his radio and calling the other deputy to round up some volunteers and meet them out at the woods.

—

Entering the cottage at four the following morning, Emma dropped on the couch in exhaustion. They hadn’t found any other clues as to the whereabouts of the sheriff or who grabbed him off the deserted road. Had he been followed out to the town line? Is that why he hadn’t responded to her text? Why would he have not reached out to her or David if he thought he was in trouble?

Settling next to her, Killian pushed her hair back behind her ear. “We won’t find him by staying up and worrying. You need to rest.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that this has to do with me.”

“With you? Why do you think so? Didn’t you say he found something in the woods? Something related to a disappearance that happened when you were a baby.”

“I know it’s crazy...”

“I didn’t say that, love. If you think this has something to do with you, I wouldn’t bet against your instincts.” Smiling at her with an expression of full support, he added, “You’ll figure it out. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“He could be out there hurt, Killian, or worse. I think we need to regroup. Go through everything again. I must have missed something. And we’re going to need all hands on deck. The situation is escalating. When are Liam and Elsa supposed to come back?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you should convince him to come back sooner.”

“That will be a pleasant conversation,” Killian muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll call Elsa instead. She’s the more reasonable one.”

“Coward,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him softly. She would never get tired of this, having him within arm’s reach. His very presence made all her worries melt into the background.

“You have more than enough bravery for the both of us,” he complimented her. “But I’ll do as you ask. After all, he’s the one who brought you into this mess. Not that I’m complaining.”

“See that you don’t. I have ways of dealing with complainers,” she ordered tartly, forcing herself to get lost in this moment with him. As she got up to walk away, his fingers hooked into the pocket of her jeans and tugged her back into his lap.

“Saucy. I like that.”

“Behave, Dr. Jones.”

There weren’t any coherent words spoken as the early morning light started to break over the horizon. He had decided to disobey, misbehaving in the most delightful ways.

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s-creations · 3 years

Text

This Lullaby

He knew it was going to be a struggle. They all knew it was going to be a struggle. But raising Della's children, for some reason, makes Donald feel worse than before. And he wasn't sure how to make that feeling go away.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Original Character, Depression, Loss, Loss of Family.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Hey everybody! Just like the previous entry to this, I have tagged depression on this installment as well. I think it's a bit more pronounced that in the previous story. So, just be warned, it's there.

And someday I'll make a happy story with these six. Someday...but not today.

If Della was there, Donald would want her to explain why she thought Jet, Turbo, and Rebel were good names to give children. I mean, really? Those were names you use for imaginary friends. This was a setup for the triplets to be bullied later in their lives. Seriously, what was she thinking?

But...Della wasn’t there. So, he had to just silently stew. Wondering what her thought process had been.

More than just her naming choices.

Donald named the older triplet Hubert, or Huey, after a captain the older duck has served under. A tough but fair bulldog. Built like a wall and able to punch with the strength of a bulldozer. Or, that’s what the stories swapped between the cadets said. But the bulldog was more of a talker. Wanting to smooth things over any confrontations with words before the fists had to come out. A philosophy that Donald had hoped the older triplet would follow.

Dewford, or Dewey, was given his name by Panchito. The rooster recalled his favorite childhood storybook that he’d read multiple times when the family became too loud. One that told of an adventurer who saves the world on a regular basis. The main character was brave, putting the needs of others before his own and making sure the innocent were kept safe. While it hit a little close to home for Donald, the duck couldn’t help but admit that the name seemed to fit the duckling perfectly.

José had taken a while in naming the youngest. A few days passed before he gave his choice to the other two. Llewellyn, or Louie, named after the parrot’s late grandfather. Shocking both the duck and rooster by the reveal as they’d never heard of this parrot before. José was known to not get along well with his family. He explains, while cradling the green bundled form closer, that his grandfather was the only person José had connected with. The elder parrot had passed when José was only four. Far too soon.

The other two pressed closer after the reveal. Saying that Louie was a perfect name. A wonderful way to remember a good soul.

It was hard getting into a new routine. When the triplets were still eggs, all that was needed was to keep them warm and keep them on a stable surface. Now it was about keeping the triplets entertained. Fed. Cleaned. Making sure they get enough sleep. Deciding if pre-school was a better place to start schooling then kindergarten. When would be the best time for them to start socializing?

“Why is it so hard to find a three seated stroller that can break apart into separate single ones? Do I really have to design my own?” Donald grumbled as he scrolled through the shopping page.

Panchito looked over from his spot on the couch with a raised brow. “Why would we need that? We can just take them on a walk together, all in single strollers.”

“What if José’s not here.”

“Um, a duo stroller with a single one?”

“What if you’re both not home and I need to get out of the house with the kids?”

“...We’ll keep looking.”

The duck couldn’t say this enough times about how thankful he was that Panchito and José were there to help. Trying to balance all of this and worry about keeping a stable job? He would have started molting long before the eggs had hatched.

How would Della have handled this?

While the other two took care of finances, Donald focused his energy and attention on the home front. Even then, caring for the house and the triplets was a...struggle. He wasn’t sure how to raise kids. His own childhood was filled with being dropped off at a new family member’s house every other weekend. Or on dangerous adventures in which he should have and almost did die. Only surviving on sheer dumb luck.

Luck, from him, could you imagine?

Della’s luck didn’t last forever.

The triplets were exploratory the moment they learned how to crawl. If Donald had his back turned for even a second, they would scatter. Thankfully, due to the older duck’s prep work, they couldn’t get into the many places. But that didn’t mean the triplets couldn’t find new areas to help give their uncle a heart attack. Like when Dewey somehow found his way onto the top of the refrigerator.

How? How was that even possible? Donald was feeling absolutely exhausted…

“Do you need me to take some time off? I am sure I can convince my company to give me a few days home to help with the boys and let you sleep.” José offered.

“No no. I’m sure they're still upset since you left so suddenly before, then decided to change location, and then ask for more time off only a few months later? No, you don’t need to worry about that. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I could ask for time off.” Panchito voiced.

“You just started working. Guy, I’m serious when I say I’m fine. The triplets are just a bit of a handful. I got this.”

It wasn’t a necessary lie. But it wasn’t fully true either. Just like when the other two asked if he was okay when they first arrived. Donald knew he was in an unstable state at this moment. He was emotionally and mentally exhausted. Everyday it was an internal battle of wanting his family back and never wanting to experience that kind of pain again. He was still angry with Scrooge and Gyro with how they handled the entire situation. Still hurt that Gladstone was so indifferent or angry without truly being involved. Donald would have reached out to Fethry, but he knew how much of a blabbermouth his cousin was. And he didn’t want Scrooge to know anything about his life.

What was most painful was how torn he was feeling about Della. Donald was furious that she just left. That she would just abandon her eggs, and so easily too. For Donald, it was a declaration that she didn’t want to be responsible. It was just something she wanted someone else to take care of them. How was he supposed to explain this to the triplets when they started asking what happened to their mother?

The turmoil that Donald felt was the idea that...could he really be mad at her? She was gone. Her choice was paid with the ultimate price. So could he hold a grudge with someone who wasn’t there? Who was never going to be there. He wanted to. But he knew it would just drive him further into an unkempt state. Holding a grudge against someone he would never see again. There would be anger burning in him that would never be able to be released.

As if Donald didn’t have enough issues with his anger.

Donald was brought out of his thoughts hearing gentle coos. Eyes traveling over to the standing playpen. The triplets were starting to try and stand. Dewey showed off his skills as he clung to the pen’s wall netting. His brother’s were more interested in the surrounding toys. But the blue dressed triplet was focused on his fractured uncle.

Letting out a small sigh, Donald lifted Dewey up, sitting down by the playpen.

“You should be with your mother… She should be here, raising you three… All of this...it’s all so unfair…” He pulled Dewey closer, cradling the small head with his hand and it was pressed against his chest.

Donald was tired. He was scared. He didn’t know what he was doing. He wondered why Panchito and José would stick around. They were supposed to be living their life in vibrant cities that matched their personalities. Not stuck here. Dealing with the absolute mess that was Donald and his life and his famiy. It was a battle between knowing he needed the help and not wanting to be a burden.

A small pat to his chest brought attention back to the triplet laying on his chest. Dewey letting out a small whimper. As if he was aware of how upset his uncle was.

Donald gave a gentle smile to the duckling. He cautiously stood, collecting the other two, and laid them out on the blanket that had been placed on the floor. Donald laid himself down on his stomach. Laughing softly as the triplets began crawling closer. Babbling as they clung to feathers and attempted to climb onto their uncle.

A misstep from Huey caused him to take a tumble, landing on his back. Small sobs bubbling up as his legs kicked desperately. In response, Donald reached out, cradling the red cladded triplet’s head in his hand while the other rested on the stomach. Huey turned to face his uncle. Unshed tears at the corners of his eyes were gently wiped away.

“Look to the stars my darling baby boys…”

Huey’s eyes lit up, falling completely still as he focused on Donald. Dewey and Louie rolled off their uncle. Instead propping themselves up on Donald’s arms, starting at him as well. Their eyes wide with curiosity.

Now that he had full attention by his audience, Donald started again.

Look to the stars my darling baby boys,

Life is strange and vast,

Filled with wondrous and joys,

Face each new sun with eyes clear and true,

Unafraid of the unknown,

Because I’ll face it all with you.

He was crying before he finished. No sobbing or cracking voice, just tears. The triplets had calmed down and were starting to drift off. Unaware of their uncle finally reaching his breaking point. Donald didn’t flinch when José and Panchito suddenly appeared. Each laying on either side of the duck, whose eyes were still trained on the triplets.

“I don’t think I know that song.” Panchito whispered.

“Della wrote it,” Donald replied, “She’d sing it to them every night… When they were still eggs and she was...you know...still here.”

“It was beautiful. We shall need to sing it more.” José suggested, pressing closer.

Donald didn’t reply right away. Focusing on the warmth seeping in from the bodies pressed against him. “I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m...angry. Not just angry, I can’t focus. I don’t know what I’m really angry about. I think. I just know that I am. I’m so...exhausted.”

The parrot hummed. Reaching up to preen at the exposed white feathers. “I think...you have had a lot of things being thrown at you. Very quickly. Without a way to fully...understand how to deal with it. Like me.”

“Like you?”

“Very much like me. I believe it would benefit you if you saw someone. It has helped me.”

“...When have you started seeing a therapist?”

“A few years now. Panchito convinced me to do so.”

“I can try and convince you as well.” The rooster added with a smile.

Donald gave a soft laugh. “No...I’ll go… I think I need to go. I know I need it… I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. We understand, we are just here to help.” José whispered, Panchito nodded softly as he laid his head on the duck’s shoulder.

Donald let out a shaky breath, eyes closing as he sank into the warmth surrounding him.

“It will be okay. We are here for you and it will be okay…”

_____________________

Donald let out a slow breath, scrunching himself further down into the cushioned chair. The triplets were babbling happily resting in their three seated stroller. All being entertained by Panchito while José focused on the older duck. The waiting room for the therapy office was small, with only a few cushioned chairs, a fake plant pushed into the corner, with a magazine rack hanging on the wall. The reception desk was situated across from the entrance with a large window resting across from where the six of them were resting.

Donald was realizing how cold this office was.

“You will be fine. Dr. Bessing is amazing. I have only been with her for a few months, but I trust her.” José said as he took Donald’s hand gently.

“What if I don’t like her?” The duck questioned quietly.

“Then we find someone else. And we will keep doing this until we find someone you do trust. It will be fine,” José smiled softly, “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then trust me when I say you will be cared for.”

Whatever bravado Donald had started to build was instantly broken when the nearby door opened. A robin with short brown hair and casually dressed entered, carrying a clipboard. She smiled over at the six of them. Giving a small coo seeing the triplets before her full attention went to Donald. “Mr. Donald Duck?”

José gave a gentle nudge, giving an encouraging smile as Donald slowly stood. He was led to where the back offices were. Entering one of the rather small rooms, the large window showing the garden behind the building being the first thing Donald noticed. It was sunny outside, the light hitting the garden path perfection. It looked like it came from a photograph.

The office itself was small, but rather cozy. Warm and inviting. Even with the numerous medical items seen around the room. A desk was pushed against the wall that was across from the window, framed with paperwork and books, a closed laptop resting in the center, and a leather, armed chair placed before it. Numerous diplomas were hanging on the wall above said desk. A cushioned chair was facing the desk, with a small end table nearby that was covered with numerous children’s toys. A large bookshelf was placed by the window and was filled with a number of thick volumes. Donald couldn’t really read all the titles. But from what he’d been able to see, they all held something about psychology.

“Go ahead and take a seat.” Dr. Bessing smiled as she took the seat by the desk. Donald let out a shaky sigh as he did as was suggested. “So, how are you feeling today? I know therapy can be a little overwhelming for the first time.”

“Um...yeah, I am a little nervous.”

“Completely understandable. You’re not used to opening up to complete strangers and now you're suddenly supposed to change your whole outlook? In one hour? It’s a weird feeling. But I am here to assure you that you have nothing to worry about. This is a safe space and nothing will be shared with anyone unless it’s on your say so.”

“Okay… Um, did José tell you...anything? I-I know you’re seeing him. Am I allowed to know that? I’m not breaking any rules am I?”

“No, you’re all good. José is allowed to share who he sees and what we talk about if he wants. The clients are in control as to what’s shared with other members of the family and friends. As far as him telling me anything, he just informed me you’re having a bit of a family issue. Nothing more. I want you to tell me what’s happening in your life. Even if he’s your husband, he can’t speak for your experiences directly. And, I will say this again, nothing leaves this room unless you want to share it. Either here or at home. It’s about making you feel safe.”

“Okay… I… Where do I...how do I start this?”

“Why don’t you just start with what brought you in today. What has happened currently that would make you feel that you need to see someone.”

Donald nodded, rubbing his hands together. “...Sorry, I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“That’s fine. First session is an open book, you just talk with whatever comes to mind, and it sounds like there’s a lot to tell. Just take a few minutes, try and get everything in order, and start when you feel ready.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Donald allowed himself a few minutes. Eyes traveling to the garden as he tried to find the right words to start with. A small smile formed seeing numerous daffodils growing proudly among the green.

Della’s favorite flower...

He gave another nod and started.

#Donald Duck #Jose Carioca #Panchito Pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchito pistoles #The Three Caballeros #the three gay caballeros #s-creations

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dweetwise · 3 years

Text

yes hello, i’m back on my riconti bullshit again, this time with a cute prompt fill from @dailyau by @hcpelesshcney about fire alarms and sharing a blanket ❤️

i’m also trying something new with splitting a fic into chapters!

ship: felix x ace warnings: briefly mentioned internalized homophobia word count: 3700

[next]

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire (part 1)

It's surprising just how scattered the human brain becomes during a crisis.

When Felix was woken from his restless sleep in the hotel bed by a blaring fire alarm, he'd bolted out of the bed and scrambled out into the hallway without second thought. He'd probably even left the door to his room wide open, with his wallet, passport, phone and laptop all neatly arranged on the desk for anyone to walk by and steal.

And now he's standing in the parking lot in the chilly late summer night, dressed in nothing but his pajama pants and a t-shirt. His socks were drenched as soon as he stepped outside, running straight into a puddle while hurrying to get away from the potential fire.

At least he's not alone in the stressful predicament. There's plenty of other people around, looking just as lost and dazed as him, having been forced to evacuate the hotel in the middle of the night. Most have been sensible enough to bring their jackets and shoes, a couple of kids even huddling beneath a hotel duvet.

And since there's no sign of a fire or even any smoke, Felix feels like an idiot for not having the foresight to bring something to warm him up.

The firefighters have just arrived at the scene and are preparing to search the building for the source of the alarm. Felix tries not to shiver even more as he relents to the fact that they're still going to be stuck out there for quite some time.

The crowd in the parking lot is loud, families and partners gossiping amongst themselves, some people even arguing with the staff members about ruining their vacation. Felix wishes they'd just shut up, more than happy to forget this ever happened if he'd just get to curl back under the warm covers of his bed instead of freezing out here.

This trip just kept getting worse. Not only had he been forced to come on only a day's notice, taking over Lauren's business trip across the Atlantic when she'd unexpectedly caught a cold. He’d also had to take a shitty flight route with two extra stops, and his last flight had been no less than six hours late.

When he’d finally arrived at the hotel and started trying to sleep off the massive jet lag after barely getting any sleep on the plane, he'd been rudely awakened by an emergency. And now, to add insult to injury, he’s gone from the threat of burning to death to freezing to death.

“Hey,” a voice says from right beside him, making Felix jolt in surprise over being distracted from his internal pity party.

He sees a man standing next to him, wrapped in a hotel-issued blanket, looking up at him with curious brown eyes and a pleasant smile.

Felix racks his brain for if he knows this man or not, but draws up a blank, the tiredness and cold making his thoughts feel sluggish. The man is shorter than Felix and looks a little older, if the laugh lines and grey hair are anything to go by.

“You look cold,” the man says. “Wanna share my blanket?”

As the man lifts the fabric just the slightest bit in invitation, mortification hits Felix. Not only is his shivering noticeable enough to warrant someone taking pity on him, he's being offered physical contact from a stranger.

Isn't it a weird thing to offer, especially to another man? Does he somehow know that Felix is gay? Is he making fun of him? Or is it just an American thing? Wouldn't it be weirder for Felix not to accept, since the man has noticed how much he’s freezing?

“Alright,” the man says when Felix isn't replying, lowering the bedding in surrender. “My bad, I just thought—"”

“Yes,” Felix says, interrupting him.

“Uh…” the man says, understandably confused by Felix's social awkwardness.

“Yes, I want to sh-share,” Felix says, another full-body shiver wracking his body.

“Oh! Sure,” the man grins happily, and then he's suddenly very close, shoulder bumping against Felix's chest, and a corner of the blanket is thrown haphazardously over Felix's shoulder.

“T-thank you,” Felix stammers, both from the nerves and the cold, grabbing the soft cotton fabric and pulling it tighter against himself.

And causing the stranger to stumble even closer from the momentum.

“Sure, don't mention it,” the man grins, like he's not now pressed against a stranger's side from shoulder to hip.

Embarrassed as Felix feels, both the blanket and the person attached to it are warm. Felix has to stop himself from sighing blissfully as the other's body heat starts to warm him up, slowly working away at the chill in his bones.

“Well, since we're gonna be stuck here for a while,” the man muses. “My name's Ace.”

“F-F-Felix,” Felix manages through clattering teeth.

“I'd shake your hand, but I think we're past that stage already,” Ace jokes, and then offers a pleased grin as Felix huffs out a surprised laugh through his nose. “In any case, it’s nice to meet you, Felix,” the man looks up at him and smiles, and Felix's poor, gay heart skips a beat.

Yeah, this is definitely preferable to freezing to death.

“I wonder how long they'll take to find the cause this time,” Ace starts conversationally, while pulling out his phone from the nest of blankets. He sets to what looks like writing a text to someone, not seeming the least bit bothered by their predicament.

“You don't seem very nervous,” Felix observes.

“Not my first rodeo,” Ace looks up and grins. “Probably someone just smoked inside and tripped the alarm. Happens a lot in hotels.”

“D-d-do you travel? A lot?” Felix asks, partly do distract himself from the cold while he gets his body heat up, partly to divert Ace’s attention from his phone.

“You could say that,” Ace says. “What about you? Here on business?”

“Yes,” Felix says, with no small amount of annoyance over being reminded he still has work tomorrow. “Thankfully my meeting isn't until the afternoon.”

“Glad you can get your beauty sleep,” Ace says.

“And hopefully get rid of the jet lag,” Felix comments with a tired sigh.

Ace hums in acknowledgement before going back to his phone message. Felix tries not to take it personally; he knows he's not that interesting to talk to.

Ace is so warm, and it's a little awkward being pressed this close, but embarrassingly enough, Felix finds himself drifting even closer. Ace smells like whiskey and cheap cologne, but somehow, it's oddly comforting. He'd probably been drinking last night—well, technically tonight. Thankfully, he doesn't seem drunk, as Felix doubts he would have had the patience to deal with alcohol-induced rambling.

“Whiskey man, I see,” Felix comments. When Ace looks up from his phone in surprise, Felix realize how weird it is for him to admit to smelling the man.

“I reek that bad, huh?” Ace grins, taking the comment in stride.

“I didn't mean—” Felix flounders to explain.

Damnit, he should just give up on trying to make conversation.

“Wow, lighten up,” Ace says and elbows him playfully under the blanket, adding even more physical contact to their already borderline inappropriate situation.

Felix tries to ignore the fluttering in his gut when he feels Ace's hairy forearm brush against his own. This is more physical contact than he's gotten from another man… probably ever.

“Yeah, I had a few drinks earlier. I'm more of a wine man, but…” Ace seems to ponder. “Sometimes, you've got to try new things.”

Like huddling under a blanket with an attractive stranger, Felix considers.

Suddenly, he almost regrets the blanket blocking his view from seeing more of the man. His body feels firm against Felix's, and his shoulders look defined, though that could just be an illusion from the thick fabric covering them.

“What’s your poison?” Ace asks, following Felix's awkward silence.

“I don't drink much,” Felix lies, like he hasn’t been going through his father’s old liquor collection at an alarming rate for the past year or so. “Uhm… whiskey, I guess. And bourbon.”

He could really, really go for either one right now. Not only would the drinks warm him up, they'd also make him act like an actual human being instead of the stiff robot impression he's currently doing.

“Huh,” Ace comments.

“What?” Felix asks, trying not to get defensive.

“Nothing! I would have pegged you as a beer guy, is all,” Ace muses. “Maybe that's just the accent, though.”

“Sorry,” Felix apologizes. Now hyperaware of his bad pronunciation and extremely German accent, he tries to bury his face deeper into the blanket in embarrassment.

“Naw, hey, come on,” Ace turns toward him as much as the cramped space allows him to. “Your English is amazing! The accent only adds charm.”

Felix looks at Ace's encouraging smile and tries not to think too much about their thighs now pressing together. Ace is clearly waiting for him to say something, but all Felix can focus on is his warm body and striking features.

“Where are you from?” Felix asks instead, trying to place the hint of an accent he thinks he hears.

“Huh. Good catch,” Ace smiles, seeming surprised. “Guess!”

Felix flushes and looks at Ace's eagerly grinning face. It's nighttime, but Ace's skin seems darker than his own, and his features look Mediterranean, reminding Felix of countless business trips to Spain. But the accent…

“Italy?” Felix suggests, and Ace's smile somehow widens even further.

“Close!” Ace says. “Argentina.”

“Ehm…” Felix furrows his brow in confusion, thinking that surely, being a whole continent and world sea off doesn't exactly count as "close".

“My family hails from Italy, and it's my native language,” Ace explains. “So it was a really good guess!”

“Thank you…?” Felix says awkwardly.

“I'd ask what you were doing when the alarm went off, but…” Ace pauses, glancing up at his disheveled hair. “From your outfit choice and the bedhead, I'd put 50 bucks on 'sleeping'."

“You'd be correct,” Felix murmurs, self-consciously poking his hand out from under the blanket to run through his tousled hair. “I'm not very interesting.”

“I think I'll be the judge of that," Ace grins. “If, uh… you don't mind chatting to pass the time?”

“Not at all,” Felix says, hoping he doesn't sound too eager, happy Ace deems him interesting enough to talk to instead of whoever he was texting earlier.

They spend some twenty minutes chatting about mostly insignificant things. But as much as Felix usually hates small talk, he now welcomes it, because Ace is asking him interesting questions instead of just talking about the weather. He appears to genuinely care about Felix's story, and Felix might end up sharing a little too much, from the work stress and business trip he didn't even want to come to, all the way to his relationship that ended a few weeks ago.

Ace seems friendly and pleasant, taking Felix's awkward pauses and nervousness in stride, filling in the silences with stories of his own. Felix hears a lot about the different places he's traveled to, along with some hotel horror stories that make him feel much better about the current fire alarm situation. He manages a few laughs, some merely polite, but some genuinely amused at Ace's over-the-top storytelling.

Eventually, Ace's phone beeps again and he excuses himself and engrosses himself momentarily in the screen, and this time, Felix welcomes the brief break in socializing.

He realizes just how nice this is. It feels like a stroke of luck that only a few short weeks after ending his relationship with his ex-girlfriend and coming out in the process, he'd meet a handsome stranger this eager to cuddle up to him.

Not cuddle up—share a blanket, Felix mentally berates himself.

He glances at Ace out of the corner of his eye, seeing his side profile illuminated by the dim glow from the phone screen. Felix never really considered what his type would be, apart from the all-encompassing "men" that he'd only recently come to accept about himself. But taking in Ace's defined features and the smile that seems to be a permanent part of his face, he's starting to get an idea.

Quickly looking away before Ace catches him staring, Felix suddenly feels almost too warm. He shouldn't get ahead of himself; even though It feels like Ace is being a little too friendly, he hasn't actually made a move, seeming happy just with chatting to kill time.

Felix briefly toys with the idea of placing his hand on Ace's hip in a loose embrace, just to test the waters. He'd never be that brave, but if he was, he'd at least know for sure, even if it would probably end in Ace being disgusted and kicking him out of the blanket cocoon.

But… maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d smile even wider and return the gesture, just as eager as Felix to get even closer. Felix would wrap his arms around him, and they'd stand there cuddling and sharing even more body heat, maybe even kissing—

Shit. This is exactly what his therapist said he shouldn't do, the term "excessive daydreaming" flashing in his mind.

“Sorry,” Ace is saying, turning back to face him and pocketing the phone, completely oblivious to Felix's internal dilemma. “Where were we?”

“I, uh,” Felix stammers.

Was just thinking about kissing you.

“Did I tell you about the time a bunch of college kids decided to set off fireworks in the hotel room next to mine?” Ace offers, saving Felix from floundering for a topic.

“What—why would they…?” Felix asks.

“Well, I'd just gotten back from this extravagant New Years party—” Ace excitedly starts telling yet another story, and Felix keenly starts listening in.

Ace seems to be completely in his element, getting lost in talking about just how fancy the party was, followed by a dramatic retelling of some very incredulously sounding explosions that turned out to be fireworks. Felix keeps listening raptly, not entirely sure about the accuracy of the story, but enjoying seeing the other so happy. The blanket occasionally shifts as Ace tries to gesture with his hands to add to the narration, only to remember that he can't, looking sheepish every time.

Felix has never met someone with such effortless charisma. Ace's voice is rich and pleasant, and Felix briefly zones out while he imagines it talking him to sleep.

It's stupid, and he knows it. He's only known the man for half an hour, and even "knowing" him is pushing it. Felix is only in the country for two more days, and he’s very aware that pursuing anything would be pointless.

But he also knows that given the chance, he wouldn't say no to seeing Ace again. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, the narrowly averted emergency, or simply being far away from home and realizing nobody would ever find out. Either way, he’s feeling more adventurous than usual, the adrenaline in his veins and butterflies in his gut keeping his tired body on high alert.

Too bad he's deathly afraid of rejection and would never dare to ask if the other is interested.

Suddenly, there's the screech of a PA system, and Ace stops mid-sentence, both of them turning to look at a firefighter speaking into a megaphone.

“The fire has been extinguished and the building is now safe. Please return to your rooms,” the fireman announces.

The horde of people immediately start flocking towards the hotel entrance at the same time, creating an annoyed crowd of freezing, grumpy people and managing to clog the entryway immediately.

“I wonder what the cause was,” Felix ponders out loud, not making an effort to move toward the commotion and get stuck between the shoving, complaining people.

“Who cares? We get to not freeze our asses off anymore!” Ace exclaims gleefully.

And Felix realizes they no longer have a reason to stay huddled up together. Reluctantly slipping away from under the blanket, he feels a disappointed pang in his chest over how happy Ace sounds to get rid of him.

“Thank you for lending your blanket,” Felix says, handing his side of the fabric back over to Ace and trying not to shiver as the cold of the night hits his warm skin.

“My pleasure! Thanks for keeping me warm!” Ace quips cheerfully, wrapping the item tighter around himself.

“Ehm… you as well,” Felix says, looking away so Ace doesn't see his face heating up.

“Come on, let's get you inside!” Ace prompts, and then he leans into Felix and shoves him lightly with a blanket-clad shoulder.

It's clearly in an intent to encourage Felix to move, but it still makes newfound hope blossom in his chest. They’re no longer forced to tolerate each other if they don't want to freeze, but Ace still seems far from repulsed by him.

“Right,” Felix says, starting the short trek to the hotel entrance that has thankfully cleared up from people.

“So…” Ace drawls, easily falling into step next to him. “Can I have your number?”

Felix glances at him and blinks in confusion. Is… is Ace asking him out? Or just being polite? Is he going to ask to be added on Facebook too, like all the weird colleagues Felix has met on business trips once and then never heard from again?

“For...?” Felix manages to ask when they arrive at the entrance, reaching for the door and holding it open for the man.

“Just wondering if you wanted to grab some drinks while you're still in town,” Ace says when he slips past Felix into the building. “I wouldn't mind getting to know you better,” Ace adds, looking him up and down with a smile that is definitely not just friendly.

Heat rises up Felix's neck from more than just the warm air of the hotel lobby. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one sensing the tension between them.

“Maybe,” Felix says, trying and probably failing to not seem way too enthusiastic.

“Oh?” Ace says, quirking an eyebrow. And then he's shrugging off the blanket, revealing a rolled-up, button-up shirt and—

Fuck. Broad shoulders and a lean build, that sure as hell doesn't make Felix's predicament any easier.

Felix definitely stares longer than appropriate while they continue walking to the elevator, Ace thankfully too busy with bunching up the blanket to notice his ogling.

“What…" Felix starts, making Ace look at him, cocking his head. "Uhm. What's with the sudden interest?”

“I mean,” Ace says, shooting him pointed look. “I was interested ever since I saw you there, shivering in your ridiculously tight T-shirt,” he winks.

Felix realizes that the shirt probably leaves a lot less to the imagination than the suits and blazers he always wears. He lifts a hand to his arm in a self-conscious manner, making an attempt to cover himself.

“But I didn't wanna freak you out,” Ace adds, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “Would have been pretty awkward if you said no, considering you were kinda stuck with me for a bit.”

That's… oddly sweet, and very much appreciated. Felix would probably have imploded on himself from embarrassment if Ace would have been this forward from the start.

“Thank you,” Felix says.

“No worries,” Ace grins, pushing the button to order the elevator. “So? Are you freaked out?”

Felix considers the question for a moment, only arriving at variations of "no", "I'm leaving in two days" and "help you're really hot but I've never been with a guy and don't know what to do".

“I think the word is…” Felix pauses in thought, trying to ignore his brain screaming insecurities at him. “'Intrigued'.”

Proud of managing to be smooth for once in his life, the ding of the elevator arriving is almost lost on Felix, because he's so focused on Ace's now downright lecherous grin.

But he obediently steps into the elevator, not wanting to keep the few hotel customers still lingering behind them.

“What's you floor, gorgeous?” Ace asks with a flirtatious smile, after pressing the number four.

Wow. How the hell did Felix ever manage to think he was just being friendly?

“Three,” Felix says.

“Looks like you're under me,” Ace flirts while pushing the button for him, making Felix choke on his own spit from the suggestive comment, embarrassed yet curious.

And then Ace clears his throat and averts his eyes as a woman and her daughter walk into the elevator with them.

They stand awkwardly next to each other as the elevator doors slide close. Felix’s thoughts are a mess of excitement, nervousness and embarrassment, not sure what to do in this situation.

He discreetly glances at Ace—

And the other catches him looking.

Felix's heart skips a beat as Ace's lips spread into a lazy grin, eyes shimmering with unspoken promise.

He wonders what it would be like to wipe that grin off the smug man's face. Felix imagines pushing Ace up against the elevator wall, picturing how the other’s eyes would go wide, maybe he'd even gasp, taken off guard at Felix's sudden boldness. Maybe he wouldn't have time to say anything, because Felix would capture his lips in a passionate kiss, and Ace would groan and drop the blanket to tangle his hands in Felix's hair—

DING!

Felix is rudely snapped out of his daydream by the elevator arriving on his floor. He realizes he's been spacing out while staring at Ace's face, and the smirk is gone from the man's lips, but his eyes are somehow even more intense.

“Good night,” Felix offers stiffly, forcing himself to break the eye contact before he gets lost in his own head again.

He takes a step out of the elevator, mentally scolding himself when he notices his racing heart and heavy breathing, getting himself worked up over a dumb fantasy.

Tomorrow, he promises himself when the elevator doors start sliding shut behind him. Tomorrow, he’d go out with Ace and could maybe, hopefully psyche himself up enough to make a move. He'd just text the man in the morning—

Except they never exchanged numbers.

Shit!

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #felix x ace

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deans-mind-palace · 4 years

Text

Heavenly touch

Pairing: Castiel x Fem!Winchester!Reader

Summary: You’re in your last year of high school. But nothing goes according to plan. While your older brothers are hunting demons down you have to attend school in whatever forsaken town they drag you to. You are bullied because you have no boyfriend, no sexual experience and you not even have had your first kiss yet. Dean doesn’t get your problem and Castiel is curious. That won’t end well.

Word Count: 1,896

Warnings: Fluff, fluff and fluff. And an overprotective brother!Dean.

Author’s Note: Enjoy. Remember, guys, likes are silver, feedback is gold.

Angrily you threw your backpack into a corner of the bunker and then dropped onto the couch. You buried your face in the pillow and drummed your feet angrily on the bulging cushion. The door to the kitchen opened and a little later your oldest brother Dean appeared in the door frame with a sandwich in his hand. He boldly bit off his sandwich and watched you. "Well?" he asked with his mouth full and some crumbs fell to the floor. "Not a good day again, sweetheart?" he said and looked at you with pity. You sighed and raised your head from the soft fabric of the pillow as you felt the sofa sink under his weight as soon as your brother sat down next to you. His green eyes watched you anxiously and you avoided his gaze, for you could not bear the pity in it. His hand stroked your back soothingly and he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich. Then he cleared his throat. "Was it those girls again?" he asked carefully and you nodded. He sighed because he already knew the problem. The girls from your new school found you funny and laughed at you every chance they got. At the thought that someone was teasing his little sister, hot anger shot through his veins, but he held back. Sam had forbidden him to get involved. The younger brother thought it would only make things worse. Still, it wasn't easy for Dean to watch you come home sad every day.

You bedded your head on his lap and looked straight and silent until your older brother broke the silence again. "So what was it this time?" Dean asked and the rustling of wings tore you from your conversation for a moment. Castiel appeared at the other end of the room and watched you closely.

"Hey, Cas." you mumbled soundlessly. The angel looked at you in surprise. Normally you were always delighted to see him and hugged him whenever he showed up, but this time you stayed motionless on the sofa with an empty look. Cas missed his usual greeting. You were very important to him. Always been. Since you met, the angel had tolerated you from the very beginning. Soon a deep friendship had developed out of it, because you had always been interested in what the angel had to say. You were the only one who was allowed to embrace him. It was your nature and he always enjoyed your company immensely.

He threw a questioning look at Dean, who shook his head only slightly. Silently, Castiel leaned in the doorway and listened curiously to your next words. Once again, you sighed. "This time it was something new. They made fun of the fact that I had never had a boyfriend before. And I never had my first kiss. And, well..." You paused and swallowed briefly, dodging Dean's gaze again. You knew he was gonna be pissed. Not at you, of course. But he was still mad. "Anything that happens just after a kiss." A vein pulsed at his temple, his jaw muscles grinding hard, and his hands kept clenching in fists as he took a deep breath and tried to keep his composure.

"Those bitches," he hissed in gritted teeth and Castiel raised an eyebrow in wonder. "It's okay, De." you muttered in a low voice. "They're right. I mean, look at me. I have no experience to brag about, and I'm eighteen years old! By my age, others are already getting married or becoming mothers." Dean's face softened as he looked at you and turned your head towards him. "Look at me, sunshine. You're just waiting for the right guy. So what? Others lose their virginity at thirteen. You take your time. And you know what? That's good! It's your business! You are perfect as you are. And don't let anyone tell you different," Dean explained. You nodded, but your brother's words did not succeed in erasing the weight in your stomach. Dean stood up and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

"I have to talk to Sammy now." he said and made his way to the library. He needed to talk to his brother. It couldn't go on like that. He wanted to kill those girls. They'd gone too far this time! The door closed behind him and it became quiet in the living room. You had forgotten Castiel was still in the room with you until he cleared his throat and you flinched. He looked at you apologetically before he walked towards you.

"What's wrong?" he asked in his deep voice, and his baby blue eyes looked at you questioningly. You loved those blue eyes. In fact, they were your favorite color. You secretly called it Castiel blue. Because it was the angel's signature color. "What's wrong?" he asked, taking the seat Dean had sat in seconds before. You looked past him in shame. "I - it's not important, Cas. Girl things." you waved off, but the angel did not let go. "It's bothering you," he murmured calmly. You looked at the angel next to you in surprise. "How-" But he didn't let you finish your question.. "You didn't hug me," he explained and a smile crept up to your lips. You'd forgotten all about that when you started feeling sorry for yourself. You immediately straightened up and wrapped your arms around the angel's neck. "Sorry, Cas," you muttered in the crook of his neck and buried your nose in his hairline. He smelled of a mild shampoo and spicy aftershave. The trench coat under your fingers smelled sweetly of detergent. It was the typical Castiel smell. His arms closed around you and he pulled you closer, bedding his chin on your head. You could have remained in that position forever.

Eventually, you'd break away from him a little, and you could look at each other's faces. His blue eyes sparkled embarrassed at his next words. "If it's so important to you, I could -" His voice trailed off for a short moment. "Well, I could be your first kiss?" You looked at him in surprise, and he misinterpreted it. Unsure, he averted his gaze. "I-I just thought, if it's that important to you... I mean, I never have - but I'd be honored if you'd be the first and -" He stuttered embarrassedly to himself until he simply broke off and drove through his brown hair with one hand. You put your index finger on his soft lips and smiled broadly at him. The angel looked at you with big blue eyes and waited anxiously for your next words.

You leaned forward a little further and his breath brushed over your rosy lips as you whispered the next words. "It would be a pleasure to have my very first kiss with you, Cas," you muttered. He nodded slightly and his eyes never left your face. His eyes wandered restlessly between your eyes and your lips. His breath blew gently across your face and he approached you slowly. One last time he looked at you reassuringly and as you nodded, his lips lay softly on yours. It felt strange and and Cas was really careful, but his lips were very soft. You too enjoyed the kiss very much. Even though you both had no experience and got out of breath quickly, it was a sweet kiss that soon became something more passionate.

"Is it okay?" Cas asked as soon as you separated and breathed heavily. Your lungs burned and you inhaled the oxygen eagerly. You smiled and your lips met again. Soon, Cas's hands made their way around your waist, pulling you closer together. Your hands didn't stay restless either, but moved from his hard chest over his strong shoulders to his neck, where your hands were buried in his short hair.

Cas grew bolder and his tongue gently stroked your lower lip. "I got that from Dean," he muttered in the kiss, and you smiled at his lips. Cas also smiled warmly. You did not know how much time had passed. Maybe hours, maybe minutes since Cas's lips moved against yours, but you didn't care because you savored the moment.

The moment that was abruptly interrupted when your brothers burst into the room. Embarrassed, you and Cas drifted apart, but he still held you in his lap. "What the hell?" cursed Dean and you saw Sam smiling at you knowingly. "Well, Dean, looks like that problem solved itself. She had her first kiss," Sam laughed and shrugged his shoulders while you hid your face burning with shame in Castiel's neck from the gaze of your brothers. Dean seemed genuinely upset, Sam found the whole thing rather amusing. The blush on your cheeks and an angry brother was punishment enough. "He kissed our little sister, Sam," Dean said, looking at Cas accusingly. The angel looked like he was guiltless. He had no idea what was going on, of course. "I know, Dean," Sam replied and winked slyly at you. Dean took a step towards you, then turned back to Sam. "I just won't punch him because he's a freaking angel. I don't punch angels," Dean explained. Castiel looked at you confused, but you barely shook your head as your fingers began to play with the short hair on the back of his neck. Sam patted your older brother on the shoulder. "I know, Dean," he repeated.

Finally, Cas spoke in a quiet voice. "You kiss girls all the time, Dean. I don't see the difference," he remarked. "The difference is that she is my little sister, okay, Cas? My innocent little baby sister! She's too young for her first kiss." You rolled your eyes at your eldest brother's words. "I'm 18, Dean." You giggled back and Cas put his head on your shoulder. Dean turned away. "Now they are cuddling in front of me," he murmured tortured. "I mean, look at him, Sammy. He's a grown man. Y/N... Y/N was just a baby a minute ago. I was just carrying her around, rocking her to sleep! And he? He's older than me!" Castiel cleared his throat. "Well, actually, I'm older than Earth, Dean, so..." You shut his mouth pretty quick with your hand. "You're not making it any better, Cas." you whispered into the angel's ear, clearly amused by Dean's dropping jaw.

"I-I need a drink," Dean muttered, and went into the kitchen. "If you'd just let me threaten those girls, Sammy..." He shook his head. Sam followed him and turned around again in the doorway. "He'll get over it," your brother said with a grin. "Give him time. He just doesn't want to admit that you're not the little girl who looked up to him anymore." "Sammy?" It came from the kitchen. "Bring me the whiskey." Sam winked at you.

As soon as everybody left the room, Cas looked at you again. "I know how time flies." you smiled. He smiled it back at you. "You do?" "Uh-huh." And there you were, lips back together again.

Tags beneath the cut. Wanna get tagged? Drop an ask or check out the link to my tag lists in my bio.

Castiel tag list: @zizzlekwum @ashthefirefox @rintheemolion

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agoodgoddamnshot · 4 years

Text

Glamour - Geralt/Jaskier

[Gif isn’t mine]

Originally posted on my AO3 account.

Geralt is observant. His job calls for it, Jaskier supposes. He’d be a pretty shit Witcher if he was killed by a monster who managed to sneak up behind him in the thickets.

It was probably something ingrained into him during the trails and mutations. Travelling around the Continent together only gave Jaskier an insight into how sharp the Witcher’s instincts really were. He heard things that Jaskier didn’t. In taverns, he would be able to tell what people were talking about at each table: even those who would give them side-eyes and keep their whispers to themselves. The noise always got to him. Jaskier noticed how Geralt could only be in one place for a certain amount of time before the noise grew deafening.

And on most nights, he doesn’t even think that Geralt sleeps. He has every ability to sleep. After a particularly long trek in between towns and cities, or even after a round of lovemaking, Geralt sleeps. But sometimes, noise keeps him awake: the creaking of a floorboard, crows cawing outside, or even the distant hum of conversation floating up to the upstairs rooms of inns.

So Geralt could be one of the most observant people that he’s ever met.

But, gods divine, could he be dense.

Emotional constipation and an incredibly short temper aside, it’s the little things that manage to slip by.

Though, in Geralt’s defence, Jaskier has been wearing a glamour for most of his life. In fact, the more he thinks about it, he isn’t entirely sure when the glamour was placed in the first place. He can remember the first time he saw a mage in his mother’s drawing-room, pouring over some old, leather tome on his lap. He remembers his mother beckoning him over, explaining that the mage was a friend. That Jaskier was ill, apparently. And the mage was very good at making sure that Jaskier would always be healthy and safe.

It wasn’t until he got a bit older, when the glamours started to flicker and fail, did he realise what his mother meant by all of that.

He imagines how the whole thing would have sounded: the Viscountess de Lettenhove had, at some point, fallen into an elf’s bed. The union produced a halfbred bastard – something entirely concealed at Jaskier’s birth, when the Viscountess demanded that the mage be in the room with her, when an army of midwives requested that he stay well out of the business of ladies.

But he understands now.

She just wanted to keep him healthy. And safe. For all that his father knew, Jaskier was his, and that was that. How could he have thought any differently? Especially with the help of the mage who, for all he knew, was only there to monitor the health of his son.

It’s only for his ears. That was the only thing abnormal – though, Jaskier never really liked that word. But he could never find a word that did match how he felt about the entire thing. The faintest arch of the top of his ears: too faint to be belonging to an elf, but enough of an arch to set him apart from human men. Enough of an arch to earn looks.

And he definitely wasn’t the only one who wore glamours. If people actually paid attention and looked, they would be able to see them everywhere.

And it’s not like Geralt hasn’t seen him bare. If anything, he knows the plains of Jaskier’s body better than most. People he had only spent nights with, he didn’t care much for them. They only saw what they were interested in seeing and that was it. Lovers he kept for longer started to scout, but Jaskier never kept them around for long enough to actually map.

Geralt is the only one that holds that kind of information.

And not once did he ever think, or give the inkling of a thought, that Jaskier might have been something else than human.

His ears stayed covered, glamoured to have a rounded arch – a human arch – for most of his life. That was one thing he could hide. Other things were more complicated.

Then Jaskier arrived at the conclusion that Geralt of Rivia was either very bad at acknowledging the passing of time, or he knew what Jaskier was, and made no mention of it.

And Jaskier, knowing Geralt for as long as he has, he’s absolutely convinced that it’s the former.

He met the Witcher when he was starting to claw his way out of his teens. And ageing had kept up well with him; he might have looked like a young eighteen-year-old, but he was eighteen years old nonetheless. And his half-elven blood allowed him to trudge through the years, gaining small little tokens with each year that passes. His skin does start to dull, after a time, and albeit not too noticeably. The faintest of lines scratch at the corners of his eyes and lips. But his blood kept him just out of the reach of whatever claimed other people his age. Or other people that should have been his age. He watched as other people gained white hairs and their muscles starting to slink away. He’s not going to lie and say he didn’t feel a modicum of joy at seeing Valdo Marx squinting at a tome in the middle of Oxenfurt library, adjusting his spectacles, and then huffing when he couldn’t make out anything no matter how close he pulled the book to his face.

Hiding what he was only became complicated when he found himself injured.

Something he can’t hide is how well his body can knit itself back together again. Elf blood is good at extending a life – either through shooing away the effects of time, or making sure that the body it inhabits doesn’t do anything too stupid to kill itself.

He’s never sustained an injury for something like that to be shown. If anything, it’s a very good testament to how well Geralt protects him. The most he’s ever gotten while out on the Path are collections of cuts and bruises – all of them disappearing within a couple of days.

This, though. Jaskier grunts as Geralt lifts him up the last couple of stairs. This could be more difficult.

Then again, it’s the last fucking thing on his mind at the moment.

“Thank you for your help, Witcher!” their contractor calls up the staircase. He’s still covered in rainwater, dripping it on to the floorboards at his feet. Rubbing some manticore blood off of his brow, he offers them both a grateful smile. “I’ll be sure to tell the town about how your deeds here tonight!”

Geralt grunts and takes Jaskier further down the landing, towards their own rented room for the night. As soon as he drags the bard inside, he ushers them both over to the bed. Geralt pulls at the blankets, tossing them down towards the foot of the bed. On the dry mattress, he sets Jaskier down. “Stay here,” he says firmly before wandering over to his bags.

If his lungs didn’t feel like they were caved in, Jaskier would muster up enough air to shout at his Witcher. Where the fuck would I be going? A manticore corpse fell on me. Because of you and your hunting partner not looking where you’re going. Do you know how disgusting that is: a corpse falling on you? Do you know how heavy those fuckers are?

He can’t verbalise it: so staring at the man across the room will have to do. It could have been worse. He’ll give the Witcher that. He could have been pierced by teeth or claws. But gods divine, his right side feels like Roach kicked it. There’s a hefty and deep bruise. He’s sure of it. And possibly a cracked or broken rib.

Or a punctured lung.

Geralt gathers what he needs; a collection of salves and ointments all encased in glass vials and bottles. He sets them at the edge of the bed. As soon as one of the vials is uncapped, Jaskier nose wrinkles. A pungent scent of tea tree coats the roof of his mouth. He turns his head away, staring at the wall at the other side of the room.

Geralt gathers some of the salve in his palm, warming it up a bit, before smearing it along the worst of the bruise. A sharp hiss leaves Jaskier. It might be nothing, but he’s sure that he hears Geralt mutter a soft sorry under his breath.

His blood will knit himself back together again. But it never dulls pain. A design flaw if ever he saw one: living with Geralt is a hazard to his health and wellbeing.

Night fell quickly. Though, winter has long since settled over the Continent, shielding the land from the sun for the past couple of weeks. Any light that does manage to fight its way through the thick, grey, heavy clouds doesn’t last long. The days have grown shorter and the nights stretch out longer. The hunt started when a sun still sat high in the sky. But rainclouds tumbled in, and soon night fell and in all, it has just been a wholly unpleasant day.

With their room only lit by the hearth’s fire and candles sitting on tables, Geralt works mostly in darkness. His eyes aren’t back to their normal gold just yet. Some small trace of black still clings on. Jaskier stares at the wall, holding his breath when Geralt’s hand drifts over a spot that took most of the hit.

Time drifts by. Jaskier blinks when the lip of a glass vial is suddenly set at his lips. “Drink this,” Geralt says gruffly. Jaskier can smell it. Poppy’s milk. It’ll dull the pain, and possibly put him in a coma for the next few days if he takes too much. He lets Geralt tip the vial, judging how much of the potion the bard needs.

Jaskier only tastes a drop of it on his tongue before the vial is gone. He makes a sound in the back of his throat. “This stuff is addictive,” Geralt frowns, putting the vial away completely.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “I know that,” he sighs, wincing slightly when Geralt prods at the bruise at his side. “Bards are rarely sober. Especially when they’re in college.”

At that, Geralt lifts an eyebrow. “Did you raid your professors’ opium gardens yourself, or?”

A light laugh leaves Jaskier, though he quells it when his lungs start to tighten. “Gods, no. We would have been found out. They had those gardens on lockdown. We...just became very friendly with passing traders.”

Geralt snorts. He works silently, offering the occasional apology whenever Jaskier’s face screws up in pain. It’s been ebbed with the potion, but it still hurts when Geralt presses his fucking fingers into his ribs—

“It’s not broken,” he says after a time. “But it could be cracked.”

“Then stop poking it.”

“Are you like this with physicians?”

“I never see physicians so I wouldn’t know.”

A small frown creases Geralt’s brow. “You don’t see physicians?”

Jaskier’s tongue swells in his mouth. “...No?”

“I can’t say I’ve met a human with such a strong immunity then,” Geralt goes back to his work. There’s a new ointment now; crushed arnica petals, with a strong scent of pine wafting off of it.

You love the Witcher, something in his brain whispers to him. In an otherwise quiet room, he flinches. The thought seems loud enough that it could be heard within the room. But Geralt offers another apology, before smoothing out the last of the salve. You love him. And he loves you. Shouldn’t you tell him?

And it occurs to him, just then, that outside of his mother, a long-since passed away mage, and himself, that no one knows. He’s never told anyone.

Swallowing a lump clawing up his throat, Jaskier rasps. “Maybe it’s because I’m not human.”

Geralt’s hands still over Jaskier’s skin.

He rushes to amend. “Well. I’m half-human. My mother is human.” Jaskier chews the inside of his cheek. “My father...I don’t know who he is. By all accounts, I suppose, Father is my father. He didn’t suspect anything else. But in a biological sense,” why is Geralt staring at him, “Mother told me that he was an elf. But...I don’t know who he is.”

And if the room wasn’t quiet before, it’s certainly quiet now.

“Say something,” Jaskier breathes. “Please. Stop staring at me and say something. Anything.”

And he swears he can see pieces fitting together in Geralt’s brain. It’s a long time before anything resembling a word leaves Geralt’s mouth. “We’ve known each other for so long. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Jaskier lifts a shoulder – as much as he’s able without his ribs hurting. “It never came up, I guess.”

“It never-” Geralt’s mouth opens, but no more words manage to come out of it. The Witcher catches the bridge of his nose between his fingers before sighing heavily. When he’s finally composed himself, he looks back to Jaskier’s body. “So you’ll heal?”

“Quicker than most,” Jaskier nods, “but not as quick as your lot, I imagine.” He hasn’t dashed out the room yet, or jumped out of the window. That’s good.

Geralt hums. His eyes still run over every stretch of exposed skin lain out before him. The bruise really only takes up one side, spreading from the peak of his hip bone to the foot of his ribs. It’s been almost an hour and it’s already beginning to change colour. What was once red and blue is now turning yellow around the edge. His body is starting to knit himself back together again. And with whatever salves Geralt smeared on him, he’s sure that the worst of it will be gone in a few hours.

Jaskier lifts a hand to Geralt’s jaw, skimming his fingers along the ridge of the Witcher’s jawline. “I’ll be fine,” he assures him. “When the sun rises tomorrow, I’ll be right as rain.”

Geralt stares at him blankly for a moment before nodding. “Alright, then.”

It’s not the nicest inn they’ve stayed the night in. But he didn’t expect much for a small trading town on the axis of a crossroads. But the pillows and mattress are soft, and the sheets are clean. And these days, that’s all he ever asks for.

Geralt has every capacity to be gentle with him. He lifts Jaskier just enough to fluff the pillows behind him, and sets him back down again. He gathers the sheets from the foot of the bed, bringing them up to Jaskier’s shoulders. “Do you want the furs too?” he asks, nodding to a collection of pelts.

Jaskier smiles. “If you wouldn’t mind. The nights are getting darker and colder.” So Geralt gathers them, spreading them out across the whole bed, but making sure that they cover Jaskier from chest to toe.

Jaskier stifles a yawn. The poppy’s milk loosens his muscles. If the bed was any softer, he thinks it might sink deeper and drown. Eyelids become heavy, making them difficult to stay awake. He does though, because Geralt is still padding around the room doing menial tasks. He stokes the fire, placing a spark-guard against it. He strips down to his underclothes and sets his armour, shirt, and breeches over the backs of two chairs.

Jaskier must mumble something that resembles a Geralt. Suddenly the scent of the Witcher is all around him. The bed dips by his side and warmth follows. “I’m here,” gentle words mumble against the shell of his ear. When they’ve settled, a peaceful sort of silence blankets over them. Geralt lies on his side, an arm folded underneath his head. His other hand sits in between them both, twitching to reach out but unsure.

“I have a cracked rib,” Jaskier mumbles, rolling his head to look down at Geralt’s hand. “I don’t have the pox.”

And the Witcher reaches out, fingers gentling along the crest of Jaskier’s collarbone. He shuffles closer, and Jaskier only hums with how warm his Witcher is. The last of the winter chill is chased away.

He’s almost asleep when he hears it. “You know what I am,” Geralt’s voice rumbles out of his chest. “And yet you still stay with me. You love me, despite all of that. Why do you think I would be any different with you?”

Jaskier sighs. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I guess even those who are prejudiced against by others can hold prejudices of their own against something else.” He hears Geralt click his tongue, shushing him. Sleep tugs at him. His body is lax and warm, and Geralt knows where to skim fingertips so sleep can creep up on him more quickly.

“Sleep now,” Geralt gentles, his thumb smoothing over Jaskier’s cheek. He drifts off to sleep like that; a chest suddenly, despite being crushed by a beast, lighter than before.

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 3 years

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Umbrella Academy OC Masterlist

(I’ll update this with my own gifs as soon as I have the time/energy but I realized how out of date the old one was and had to fix it, as part of my bigger mission to update all of my masterlists)

Name: Aiden Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 8, The Enigma

Story: My Way Home

Face claim: Candice King

Power: Redacted

Name: Alice Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 8, The Heart

Story: Six Impossible Things

Face claim: Sophie Cookson

Power: Empathy

And then, an eighth. Five years after the mysterious births, Alice’s parents died in an accident, and she was quickly taken in by the billionaire. Unfortunately, she turned out to be even more useless than Number Seven. An empath, not only were her powers useless, but they made her weak and unreliable. On the day they turned eighteen, Alice parted ways with her siblings, moving across the country to become a licensed psychologist, using the same powers that had always been mocked. She’s finally happy, when her father dies and she has to return home. But when Number Five shows up, not looking a day over thirteen, Alice has to help stop the apocalypse, and learn the truth about her own powers along the way.

Name: Andrea Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 8, The Ace

Story: Running Just As Fast As We Can

Face claim: Crystal Reed

Power: Luck

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth, you know the drill. Despite being one of the miracle children, Andrea never felt like she was born lucky or lucky to be born. Yes, having the power of good luck came in handy, but it also came with endless scorn from her siblings, and even from her father. It meant never knowing if she deserved something or if she only got it because of her powers. It meant being put through worse and worse torture every day of her life as Sir Reginald Hargreeves tested the limits of her powers. It meant being lucky — unlucky, if you asked her — to survive the same mission that had taken Ben from her. She was the one who should have died, but as luck would have it, the universe took Ben instead.

That was the final straw for Andrea, who left the Academy within the week. She built herself a new life. A successful life. A life where she would never know if she had actually worked for, had actually earned, anything that she had. She lost contact with her siblings. She lost her family. She lost herself. And then her luck finally worked out well: Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and her long lost brother was finally home.

And the apocalypse was only days away. Go figure.

Name: Andromeda Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 6: The Echo

Story: Ghosts Of The Past

Face claim: Nina Dobrev

Power: Power mimicry

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. He got eight of them. Originally number Seven, Andromeda’s ability to copy anyone else’s powers should have made her number one, but she struggled to control it. While theoretically she should have been able to mimic any power so long as she’d seen it used before, and to use multiple powers at once, Andromeda struggled to copy anything unless she could see the person whose power it was, and could barely handle one let alone multiple.

She’d long since stopped hoping to improve her rank when suddenly Ben dies, and Andromeda finds herself reappointed as Number Six, and the only power she doesn’t seem to struggle to use? Klaus’ ability to see their dead brother. Unable to cope with it, Andromeda travels halfway across the world, and the further she gets from Klaus, the weaker her mimic gets. Finally separated from her family, and the ghosts of her past, Andromeda is ready for her fresh start. For over a decade she lives like she’s normal; no superheroes, no mimics, and no ghosts, but her father’s funeral forces her to return to all three - and now with the added bonus of the apocalypse.

Name: April King

Alias: The Siren

Story: Siren Song

Face Claim: Cara Delevigne

Love interest: Diego Hargreeves

Power: Persuasion/Hypnotic Speech

Summary: In 1989, forty-three women simultaneously give birth, despite showing no signs of pregnancy prior to each birth. Seven are found and adopted by eccentric billionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves, who raises them as a superhero team. April King is not one of those seven, but she grew up only two blocks away from them. She befriended Diego at a fairly young age, and by the time the siblings drift apart, the Kraken and the Siren are an unstoppable team. But when April accompanies Diego to Reginald Hargreeves’ funeral, she finds herself caught up in the Apocalypse and, even worse, family drama.

Name: Arya Bassi

Story: Ut Malum Pluvia

Faceclaim: Summer Bishil

Love Interest: Diego Hargreeves

Power: Redacted

Summary: When a twenty-four year old Arya Bassi first met Diego Hargreeves, she didn’t think anything of it. He was just another bodyguard that her overly paranoid father had hired to protect his little miracle. He would be replaced by the next event, and it wasn’t worth getting attached. Only, the next event rolled around and Diego was back. And then again, and again, and again. For five years, Diego served as Arya’s bodyguard, best friend, part-time roommate, and occasional fake boyfriend. The two went everywhere together, told each other things they’d never told anyone else, became two halves of a whole. And then Reginald Hargreeves died, and Diego asked Arya to be his date to the funeral.

Going to unpleasant events as Diego’s date was hardly new to her, and saying no would never have crossed her mind, but usually he was the one responsible for protecting her, not the other way around. Still, even if he hadn’t wanted her support, Arya would die before she would let her best friend face that particular nightmare alone.

She used to roll her eyes when her father told her that she shouldn’t — couldn’t — trust anyone but her newest bodyguard turned other half, but as the apocalypse nears and some woman who calls herself The Handler takes a terrifying interest in Arya, she starts to think that maybe he had been onto something all along.

Name: Athena Patch

Alias: AP, The Myth

Story: Patchwork Family

Faceclaim: Tessa Thompson

Power: Technopath

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. He got seven, and Athena Patch wasn’t one of them. Born barely two months after her half sister Eudora, Athena had always known that she was different but, no matter how much money he offered, her parents refused to give her to Reginald, and Athena never met the Umbrella Academy.

Until she was 21, a skilled technopath and recent orphan, in the same Police Academy class as her sister and a boy who could have been her brother, and Athena found herself a new family with the two of them.

And then Diego dropped out and became a vigilante, Athena dropped out to become a hacker, and Eudora actually followed through and became a cop, but the three remained their own little family. And then Reginald Hargreeves dies, and Athena accompanies Diego to the funeral for the man who could have been her father, meets more people who could have been her siblings, and gets roped into stopping the apocalypse.

Name: Audrey Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 8, The Charmer

Story: Mesmerizing

Faceclaim: Emeraude Toubia

Power: Hypnosis

Audrey Hargreeves, The Charmer, was gifted with the power of hypnosis. So long as she focused, Audrey would use words or movement to put anyone under her spell. So, as an extra piece of her training, Reginald had her trained in several forms of dance, and Audrey fell in love. After years of abuse, she was unsurprised to find that her family was falling apart, and was one of the first to call it quits. Instead of staying in their personal hell-mansion, Audrey chose to pursue ballet and avoid using her powers as much as possible, and to never, ever look back. But then Reginald died, the surviving siblings reunited, Five showed up to warn them about the apocalypse, and Audrey realizes that the past can never stay in the past.

Name: Autumn Hargreeves

Alias/Number: A

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Danielle Rose Russell

Power: Redacted

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 2000, 13 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. He got twelve

.Labelled A through a L, the Initials spent their early years training, mentored by their older siblings. And by the time the original Umbrella Academy dissolved, the new one was ready to take their place. For years, the new Academy thrived, until they too fell apart.

And then Reginald died, and the seventeen siblings reunited for the funeral. A lifetime of resentment, rivalries, and abandonment issues would be a lot for any family, let alone a family of superheroes whose long lost brother has just appeared for the first time in sixteen years. And that’s when Macey Arden, the thirteenth miracle, shows up.

Name: Bailey Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 8, The Angel

Story: Here’s To Never Growing Up

Face claim: Ginny Gardner

Power: Cellular Regeneration

When her siblings are thirteen, she is six; when they are eighteen, she is ten; when they are twenty nine, at the dawn of the apocalypse, she is fifteen. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the speed at which she ages, no consistency with which to plan. And Bailey, ever the youngest, can’t leave the mansion with her siblings. At least, not until Klaus, through means that she never wants to know, gets her registered as his own. And for twelve years, their system works. As far as anyone knows, Bailey is his daughter, dumped on his doorstep by a one night stand. It works; they’re as thick as thieves despite Bailey’s age and Klaus’ addiction, and everything is good. Until Reginald dies. Bailey was prepared for the fighting, she had accepted the bad blood, she was unfazed by the news of the apocalypse, but she never expected to no longer be the youngest of the Hargreeves siblings.

Name: Beatrice Lovecraft-Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 6.5, The Abomination

Story: The Monster In Me

Face claim: Kaya Scodelario

Love Interest: Ben Hargreeves

Power: Eldritch Physiology (summons tentacles from her hands)

Summary: On October 1st, 1989, Beatrice Lovecraft-Hargreeves is one of 43 miracle children, born to women who had not been pregnant when the day began. On October 31st, 1989, Shailene and Rupert Lovecraft refused to give their daughter to billionaire Reginald Hargreeves.

But growing up just down the street from the Academy, Reginald never took his sight off of her, waiting for the opportune moment to add her to his collection. That moment comes on December 31st, 1999, when tentacles emerge from Beatrice’s hands and slaughter her parents. The billionaire is quick to step in and claim the girl, stealing her out from CPS and naming her 6.5, The Abomination, The Horror’s other half. Only, he didn’t anticipate just how close the two would become; didn’t anticipate that the two so called monsters would fall in love. Didn’t anticipate Beatrice dying when she was fourteen.

And then, three years later, Ben dies. Klaus attempts to bring his brother, his best friend, back, but instead he brings back Beatrice. And aside from now being a few years younger than the other Hargreeves’, she seems unchanged. Except that now she and Klaus are bonded, now someone else can see his ghosts. And just as they start to get used to it, Reginald Hargreeves dies and they have to return for the funeral. They have to face the rest of the academy, who still think Beatrice is dead; who still don’t believe that Klaus can talk to Ben; who still all blame themselves — and each other — for the two tragedies. And if that weren’t complicated enough, another presumed dead Hargreeves shows up with warnings of an impending apocalypse.

Name: Braeden Hargreeves

Alias/Number: The Brain, Number 8

Story: Knowledge Is Power

Face claim: Blake Lively

Power: Knowledge

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. Yes, we know that. Braeden Hargreeves, The Brain, was one of them. Gifted with super intelligence, with the ability to know all of the information of any book or person that she touched, Reginald made it very clear that Braeden was not allowed to touch anyone at the Academy, ever. Isolated and touch starved, Braeden found a coping mechanism in playing other people, which soon grew into a passion for acting.

At the age of eighteen, both she and her rival - sorry, sister - left home with the intention of pursuing theatre. While Allison went straight to Hollywood, using her powers to advance her career, Braeden went to Broadway and slowly but surely worked her way up until she was asked to play one of the two leads in a new TV show, a role which brought her face to face with her estranged sister.

As is often the case with siblings, their reunion brings back eighteen years of resentment and rivalries, and just as soon as they start to put the past behind them, their third sister publishes a tell all novel about their lives and everything falls apart again.

Name: Briana Hargreeves

Alias/Number: B

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Danielle Campbell

Power: Redacted

Labelled A through a L, the Initials spent their early years training, mentored by their older siblings. And by the time the original Umbrella Academy dissolved, the new one was ready to take their place. For years, the new Academy thrived, until they too fell apart.

Name: Cam Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 7

Story: Someone Will Bleed

Face claim: Lana Condor

Power: Enhanced Fighting

While Cam moved on, learning to survive on her own while watching her siblings on the news, the remaining seven Hargreeves never could. Diego and Luther, blaming each other for the loss of their third musketeer, went from the best of friends to bitter rivals. Reeling from the loss of their sister, Allison and Vanya shut everyone out — save for Luther and Five respectively. Ben grew quieter and Five grew more restless and Klaus turned to drugs in the hopes of never having to see his sister’s ghost.

But there was no ghost for him to see, because Cam wasn’t dead. For six years, Cam struggled, but survived. She watched on the news when Five suddenly stopped showing up; trying to find him by herself, but to no avail. Until one day, shortly after her fifteenth birthday, a woman approached her. She called herself the Commissioner, and invited Cam to join the Temps Commission and help save the world. And, with nothing else going for her, Cam said yes, and was introduced to her partner; and old man who’d survived the apocalypse alone, who also happened to be her long lost brother.

And then Cam learned the truth. The Commission’s goal was to make sure that the apocalypse happened. And Five’s goal was to stop the apocalypse and save their family. Well, at least Cam had no doubt about which side she was on.

Name: Cassie Hargreeves

Story: Dead Girl Walking

Face claim: Claire Holt

Power: Prophecy

Cassandra Hargreeves had been bought alongside her brother, Luther, but Cassie was a seer. A seer who regularly advised that her siblings disobey Reginald, and her siblings always trusted her. And when they were seven, Luther disobeyed Reginald for the first time, because Cassie told him to. And Reginald decided that enough was enough. He told her siblings that she had died, selling her to a “boarding school” in England, owned by an acquaintance of his. Almost twenty three years later, Reginald Hargreeves died, as Cassie knew he would. The surviving five Hargreeves children gather for the funeral and find themselves face to face with not one but two of their supposedly dead siblings, both of whom bring warnings of the impending apocalypse.

Name: Catarina Moreno-Hargreeves

Alias/Number: The Witch

Title: Promise Of Fidelity

Face claim: Eiza Gonzalez

Love Interest: Diego Hargreeves

Power: Witchcraft

Summary: Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go. When Catarina Moreno first spoke those words, the day she married Diego Hargreeves, she meant them. Two miracle babies, The Kraken and The Witch, and the tumultuous road that had brought them together, and neither could imagine being apart ever again. And years later, she still meant them. Funerals, family reunions, and apocalypses would never be enough to take her from her husband’s side - even learning about his deceased father’s obsession with her couldn’t do that.

Reginald Hargreeves had sought Catarina Moreno for years, offering everything he could to her parents in exchange for their little miracle, but they refused. All the way to the day he died, he always swore that she was they key to stopping the apocalypse, always knew that he needed to bring her together with the Academy, but he never expected that to be as Diego’s wife.

But still, like clockwork, the apocalypse comes, and Catarina is right there by her husband’s side, ready to face whatever comes their way. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.

Name: Cherie Hargreeves

Alias/Number: C

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Jenny Boyd

Power: Redacted

Name: Cleo Sullivan

Story: Ricochet

Faceclaim: Tessa Thompson

Love Interest: Luther Hargreeves

Power: Sonic Scream

Summary: Cleo Sullivan knew a lot of things. She knew that she was born on October 1st, 1989; she knew that her mother called her her “little miracle”; she knew that law school was supposed to be the hardest part of her life. She knew that when people said she had a “killer voice”, they meant it literally; she knew that running around in black leather, punishing abusers who’d gotten away was a bad idea; she knew that she needed to keep her powers a secret. She knew that Luther Hargreeves, of the Umbrella Academy Hargreeves, had died to save her. But then her best friend Eudora’s ex, and her own part time vigilante parter Diego — one of the only people who knew the truth about her birth — came around asking for her help to save the world, and Cleo Sullivan meets a man with a familiar face and an unfamiliar body. And Cleo Sullivan learns that she was wrong, on at least one of those counts.

Name: Dahlia Mort

Story: Ultraviolence

Faceclaim: Jodie Comer

Love Interest: Diego Hargreeves

Power: Redacted

So Dahlia grew up, trained, learned to walk and talk, trained, got a sister, trained. Desperate to prove herself, Dahlia threw herself into her work, at the expense of having an actual life. She proved herself to be the best of the best. Proved herself worthy of being trained by the best agent in commission history. Proved herself worthy of her family, her job, and even her birth. But by 25, she had learned that nothing she did would be good enough for The Handler. For her mother. So, she stole a briefcase and ran away.

Que sera, sera; but life always has a way of going to shit.

Name: Destiny Hargreeves

Alias/Number: D

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Kaylee Bryant

Power: Redacted

Name: Emery Raves

Story: Holding On

Faceclaim: Chloe Bennett

Power: Redacted

Summary: Emery Raves wasn’t dead. Emery Raves should have been dead; everyone else in the world was. Everyone except for Emery Raves and the boy who showed up in a flash of blue. And the boy, Five, explained. The world had ended; he survived because he was a time traveller; on October 1st, 1989 — her birthday — a group of kids with superpowers had been born; and, somehow, Emery had powers that allowed her to survive the end of the world. Decades later and a week before the world was going to end, Emery had to hope that, whatever her still unknown powers might be, this time they would be enough to save the entire world.

Name: Emma Hargreeves

Alias/Number: E

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Madelaine Petsch

Power: Redacted

Name: Fae Hargreeves

Alias/Number: F

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Zoey Deutch

Power: Redacted

Name: Gail Hargreeves

Alias/Number: G

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Emily Rudd

Power: Redacted

Name: Gemma Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 8, The Hurricane

Story: The Tempest

Face claim: Phoebe Tonkin

Power: Weather Manipulation

Summary: Life was supposed to be better. She wasn’t Number 8 anymore — special but never special enough. She was Gemma Hargreeves now, a real girl with a life outside of the Umbrella Academy — and in fact, it was only two weeks until she wouldn’t even be a Hargreeves anymore. On April 2nd, 2019, she was supposed to have her dream wedding with her dream husband; the only thing that would have made it better would have been her siblings, but not a single invitation had gotten any response whatsoever. It hurt, but she had known when she finally left the mansion that she would never see them again.

But then Reginald Hargreeves dies, and as much as she doesn’t want to go back to the mansion, Gemma knows that she can’t give up on the one chance she has to see her siblings again.

Name: Hadley Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 8

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Kat McNamara

Power: Redacted

Name: Helena Hargreeves

Alias: Number 7, The Soul

Story: So Long & Goodbye

AO3 | FFNet | Wattpad

Faceclaim: Taissa Farmiga

Power: Emotional Absorption

Love Interest: past Klaus Hargreeves

Number 7 — The Soul — Helena Hargreeves was one of them. Cursed with the ability to absorb emotions, and without the ability to filter them out, living in the mansion was a constant nightmare. So, sixteen and traumatized by the loss of her second brother, Helena followed Klaus out of the mansion and out of their siblings’ lives. The next several years of her life passed in a blur of drugs and drinking, until an overdose landed Helena in rehab. Thirty days later, and sober for the first time in years, Helena promised herself that she would keep it that way, and two years later she finally left Klaus. With help from Diego, she got her life together, got a job, and started her life over without Klaus or her siblings. And she was fine, she was good, until Diego showed up one night, begging her to go home with him for their father’s funeral.

Name: Isabel Hargreeves

Alias/Number: I

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Sophie Turner

Power: Redacted

Name: Jaden Hargreeves

Alias/Number: J

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Dylan Sprayberry

Power: Redacted

Name: Josephine “Joey” Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 8, The Keeper

Story: Run Girl Run

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Face claim: Avi Lake

Power: Panmnesia

Summary: On October 1st, 1989, Josephine Hargreeves was born. On October 1st, 2002, she turned 13. On November 20th, 2002, she travelled too the apocalypse, and on April 1st, 2019, the world ended.

Joey and Five Hargreeves had always been inseparable, so no when was surprised when she followed him out of the mansion after his worst fight with Reginald. But neither came back.

After a terrible first attempt at time travel, Joey and Five find themselves spending decades in a post apocalyptic future until finally, finally, Five finds a way back.

On April 1st, 2019, two thirteen year olds witness the end of the world. Forty years later, on March 24th, 2019, they get the chance to stop it.

Name: June McLaughlin

Story: High All The Time

Face claim: Anna Kendrick

Love Interest: Klaus Hargreeves

Power: Time Manipulation

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. June McLaughlin never knew that her mom hadn’t been pregnant. She lived a fairly normal life, although she often lost track of time - to a point where she spent half of her teenage years seeing doctors and specialists. But after witnessing her parents die in a mall shooting, the then twenty one year old finds herself feeling completely lost and disconnected, and soon finds her way to the party scene, spiraling further and further downwards, losing more and more time, until one day she meets an equally messed up boy with tattoos on each of his hands and the exact same birth minute as hers.

Name: Kacey Hargreeves

Alias/Number: K

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Sarah Jeffrey

Power: Redacted

Name: Kamaria Hargreeves

Story: Moonstruck

Faceclaim: Minka Kelly

Power: Redacted

Love Interest: Luther Hargreeves

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Grace Hargreeves had been pregnant when the day began, and Kamaria’s birth had been pregnant. Her birth was expected. What wasn’t expected was that for some reason — her alien biology, Reginald’s experiments, or maybe just fate — her birth would trigger the birth of 43 miracle children. Instead of getting one child that day, Reginald Hargreeves got eight.

Being number Zero was supposed to be an honour. She was supposed to be the best of the best, but Kamaria knew better — Reginald didn’t see her as a person. And if she’d ever doubted it, he would have confirmed it when he faked her death and locked her away in a separate wing of the mansion, keeping her isolated from everyone but he and Pogo. For years, Kamaria trained in isolation, mastering her powers and growing in resentment, until finally she managed to break out of the mansion. She started a new life as a professional dancer, and left the past in the past. And then Luther showed up at one of her performances with no recollection of her existence. And then Luther went to the moon the next morning. And then Reginald Hargreeves died.

And, eleven years after finally escaping, Kamaria Hargreeves went home, only to find out that her former classmates — siblings? — and even her own mother didn’t remember that she’d ever existed.

Name: Kiera Cassidy

Story: Screaming Out

Faceclaim: Shay Mitchell

Power: Banshee

Not only was Kiera Cassidy not one of them, but she had never even heard of Reginald Hargreeves or the Umbrella Academy. Until she turned twelve, and her parents dragged her across the country in hopes of finding a doctor who could explain her sudden, inexplicable screaming and tendency to sleepwalk to cemeteries and murder scenes. They didn’t find doctors, but Kiera found something better.

A boy in a mausoleum.

Name: Kylie “Ky” Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 0, The Bomb

Story: Ignite Me

Face claim: Brie Larson

Power: Energy Manipulation

Gifted with the ability to manipulate energy, Ky was given the highest honour; number Zero, the Bomb. While she was treated better than her siblings, she saw the suffering they endured, and did her best to defend them, but after Number Five disappeared, nothing was the same.

She tried to hold her family together, but in the end they still fell apart, and she never thought that she would see them again. But then their father dies, and the siblings are forced to reunite. But they aren’t the same as Ky remembers them, and frankly, neither is she. She can handle temperamental siblings and a lifetime of resentments, but can she get them to cooperate long enough to stop the apocalypse?

Name: Larissa Hargreeves

Alias: Number 8

Story: Say It Ain’t So

Faceclaim: Troian Bellisario

Power: Precognitive Vocifery

Summary: Larissa Hargreeves had been the golden girl, once. The perfect daughter who could speak anything into reality as long as she believed enough. She had been the original Number One, until her fall from grace. The first time she ever failed to speak something into existence, the first time she hadn’t been able to believe hard enough, she was unceremoniously demoted to Number Eight, where she spent the rest of her miserable years at the Hargreeves Mansion before finally breaking out.

That was supposed to be the end of it; she was never supposed to have to go back to the source of her trauma. But apparently she hadn’t believed that enough either, because a few months before her thirtieth birthday, Reginald Hargreeves dies and Larissa has to go back home for the funeral turned family reunion. She was supposed to go to appease Pogo and then leave again, and this time she would be free from the house of horrors for the rest of her life.

But even Larissa couldn’t just speak the apocalypse out of existence; that would be almost as impossible as speaking her siblings into cooperating.

Name: Leah Hargreeves

Alias: Number 8, The Phoenix

Story: Ghostly Scene

Faceclaim: Arden Cho

Power: Fire Manipulation

Leah Hargreeves was able to tolerate a lot of shit. She could handle the missions; she could handle the ‘lessons’; she could handle being forced to burn herself time and time again; she could even handle just about anything the universe threw at her. And then Ben died, and Leah found her limit. She could tolerate just about anything, but she couldn’t — wouldn’t — handle Reginald blaming she and her siblings for her twin’s death. And so the Hargreeves lost a second sibling that day.

Leah left the mansion as soon as the funeral was over. Yes, it broke her heart to lose the rest of her siblings, but she thought it would hurt less to lose them while they were alive than it would to lose a third – or fourth or fifth or sixth or seventh – sibling for good. She knew that she might never see them again, but she could at least cling to the hope that they were still alive. So she forced herself to move on, to never look back.

But when she sees Reginald’s death announced on the TV, Leah knows that she has to go back; that she has to at least try to reconnect with her remaining siblings. And given the choice between stopping the apocalypse or losing the rest of her family, well, there’s no choice at all.

Name: Leslie Hargreeves

Alias/Number: L

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Dove Cameron

Power: Redacted

Name: Lindsey Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 0.5: The Void

Story: Colder Than This Home

Face claim: Holland Roden

Power: Power amplification & nullification

She left the day she turned sixteen, planning to never look back, ready to live in a world without superpowers. For over a decade, she lived in peace, until her father’s death forced her to return home and face the life that she swore never to return to.

Name: Lorelai Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 4.5, The Reaper

Story: Fear The Reaper

Faceclaim: Emma Watson

Power: Necrokinesis

Summary:

Once upon a time, forty-three not-pregnant women all gave birth at the exact same time. Everyone knows what happened next; Reginald Hargreeves bought eight. One, two, three, four, four and a half, five, six, and seven, and Lorelai Hargreeves didn’t even count as a whole person. The Reaper to her twin’s Séance, the half to his four, Lorelai and Klaus had always been a team - even their powers went together. “Gifted” with necrokinesis, Lorelai spent her childhood being forced to literally suck the life out of things.

Unable to cope with the trauma of their powers, the twins turned to hard drugs and partying. And then their favourite brother died, and that was the end. They moved out a week later, vowing to leave everyone and everything Hargreeves in the past. They kept that promise for over a decade, until Reginald Hargreeves is found dead in his study.

Name: Macey Arden

Alias/Number: N/A

Story: Unlucky

Face claim: Olivia Holt

Power: Light Manipulation

Name: Max Carmichael

Story: Supercut

Face claim: Willa Holland

Power: Invisibility

Love Interest: Diego Hargreeves

Summary: The first time that one of Diego’s knives went missing he was eight and had figured that Klaus had gotten bored and stolen it. Until he found a yellow sticky note with a red cat face drawn on, stuck to his knife holster. Then a week later, Reginald came down to breakfast demanding to know who’d been in his office, waving an identical yellow sticky note in his hand. This went on for the next ten years, and not a single person in the mansion was left out. He had always figured that it was one of his siblings; after all, there was no way anyone could be getting in and out of the house unnoticed to pull it off. But then he moves out and starts at the police academy, and within a day his handbook was gone and replaced with yet another sticky note.

Max Carmichael would say that she didn’t know why she had started targeting the Umbrella Academy mansion in the first place, but that would be a lie. It was for the same reason that she’d started stealing at all; for attention, for recognition. And, admittedly, to see how well her own superhuman powers held up against a team of real life superheroes. The answer was too well, truth be told. None of them didn’t even notice their stuff was missing in the first place — none except Diego Hargreeves. Over the years, Max found herself more and more attached to the knife wielder, luring him into a game of cat-and-mouse that lasted for more than two decades. She branched out eventually, museum heists and bank robberies keeping her plenty busy, but she always went back to Diego eventually.

But when Reginald Hargreeves dies, Max finds herself looking through all of the items she’d accumulated from the mansion over the years to see if there was anything that she could profit off of. There were lots of knickknacks that would serve her well, but one particular find turns her path away from her favourite consignment shop and instead brings her face to face with Diego Hargreeves for the first time in their long, long chase.

Name: Maya Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 8

Story: Picture This

Face claim: Kat Graham

Power: Illusions

Summary: They say that seeing is believing, but Maya Hargreeves begs to differ. After all, she could make people see anything she wanted. It was both her gift and her curse, and the reason that she had been bought by Reginald Hargreeves. For several years he used her powers for his own purposes, making her force people to see their worst nightmares; horrors that only they — and she — could see. Until one day, Maya said no more. She packed her bag and climbed out of her window, starting a new life and never looking back.

But ten years later, Reginald Hargreeves dies. And despite knowing that appearances can be deceiving, Maya Hargreeves still can’t ignore the need to see it with her own eyes.

Name: Medea Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 8, The Sorceress

Story: All My Poison

Face claim: Emma Dumont

Power: Poison & Telekinesis

Name: Mira Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 10

Story: Survivor

Face claim: Madison Davenport

Power: Life Force Manipulation

Summary: On April 1st, 2019, the world ends. Twenty years later, Mira Hargreeves is born, the only child of Five and Dolores Hargreeves. Ten years after that, Dolores Hargreeves dies, and Five is shocked when his seemingly ordinary daughter preserves her mother’s life force into the head of a mannequin, allowing them to continue to talk to them as they attempt to survive the apocalypse. And then, when Mira turns twenty, the Time Commission comes to recruit the last survivors of the apocalypse.

Years later, the father-daughter duo are on a mission when Five finally finds a way to return to his proper timeline, and Mira quickly joins him through the portal. She didn’t expect to find herself back in her eighteen year old body, or for her father to be thirteen again. But they survived once, and unexpected physical changes won’t keep them from surviving again.

Name: Mireille Labonair

Story: Come What May

Face claim: Elizabeth Henstridge

Power: Artistic Creation

Love Interest: Luther Hargreeves

Summary: Mireille Labonair was a genius, plain and simple. She graduated high school at fifteen, university by eighteen, and had her doctorate by twenty-two — and no, none of it was due to her miraculous and unexpected birth on October 1st, 1989, thank you for asking. Soon the young genius was approached by a certain Sir Reginald Hargreeves, who was fascinated by her prodigal advances in bio-chemistry. He offered her a job, and by 23, Mirelle was working for the most infamous billionaire in the world. Her job had its highs and lows, like any other job.

Befriending Luther Hargreeves was an absolute high; but his near death and Reginald’s unethical experiment were resounding lows. Luther’s trip to the moon was a low, but access to equipment she had only ever dreamt of was a high. Sir Reginald’s death was a bit of both, to be honest, but Luther’s return was a definite high. But Luther’s long-lost brother showing up with warnings of an impending apocalypse? That was definitely the biggest low in her career.

Name: Nadia Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 13, The Goddess

Story: The Kids From Yesterday

Face claim: Gal Gadot

Power: Redacted

Name: Odessa Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 0

Story: Devised Suffering

Face claim: Jennifer Lawrence

Power: Redacted

But despite sharing blood, the twins had nothing else in common. Where Vanya was ordinary, Number Seven, Odessa was Number Zero, too powerful for her own good. Resentment grew quickly, and Odessa was the first Hargreeves to move out, and the only Hargreeves not to go to Reginald’s funeral.

Odessa Hargreeves doesn’t remember the end of the world, exactly. She remembers a flash of white as she collapsed, halfway across the world from her father’s funeral; she remembers waking up in a burning world, face to face with her long lost brother; but she doesn’t remember the world ending.

But after forty four years, after a lifetime of working alongside her now younger brother, Odessa finds herself returning to 2019 to attend the funeral at the mansion she swore she would never return to.

Name: Ophelia Dane

Alias/Number: Number 8, The Healer

Story: We Were Just Kids

Faceclaim: Katie McGrath

Love Interest: Ben Hargreeves

Power: Healing

He didn’t get Ophelia Dane. At least, not at first. But when The Umbrella Avademy grows in fame, the Danes reach out to Reginald, telling him about their miracle daughter and her ability to heal any injury or illness she’d ever encountered. And so, Number 8 is sold to the Academy. Ophelia is twelve when she moves into the mansion, thirteen when she falls in love with Ben Hargreeves, and eighteen when she first encounters something that she can’t heal.

Despite her best efforts, Ophelia cannot save Ben’s life, and the realization pushes her to the point of leaving the Academy, her family, and her powers behind. She goes on to study medicine, but refuses to her her powers ever again. Until, over a decade later, Reginald dies and Ophelia has to face the life she left behind, and the people she couldn’t save.

Name: Poppy

Alias/Number: N/A

Story: The Girl That I Knew

Face claim: Emilia Clarke

Love Interest: Luther Hargreeves

Not only was Poppy not one of the seven, she wasn’t one of the forty-three either. In fact, Poppy wasn’t build until the Hargreeves children were ten and Reginald decided that Grace was no longer enough to keep them in line. No, they needed a sister; someone to keep them in line, someone who they would be attached to, someone disposable enough that he could threaten to deactivate her if they stepped out of line. And so, Poppy was built, designed to age with the children so that they would truly see her as their sister.

But over the years, the Hargreeves left, and Reginald let Poppy’s maintenance fall by the wayside. He never noticed that as she grew to match her ‘siblings’, she was also growing into herself, developing free will and opinions of her own. And then he died, and for the first time in years, the Hargreeves family is united again to stop the apocalypse. But Poppy knows more than she is supposed to, and she no longer intends to play by Reginald’s rules.

Name: Quinn Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 5.5: The Girl

Story: Hear No Evil

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Face claim: Malina Weissman

Power: Telepathy

Number 5.5, The Girl was The Boy’s twin. They were, for all intents and purposes, one person. Known by her brother as Quinn, Number 5.5 was the team’s psychic, able to read the minds of anyone that she could see, or anyone that Number 5 could see. But when Number 5 disappears, The Girl freezes. Her body shows no signs of ageing or decaying, as if she has simply stopped. But when her brother returns from the future with warnings of an impending apocalypse, Quinn wakes up. And she remembers everything.

Name: Rebekah Hargreeves

Alias/Number: N/A

Story: We’ll Carry On

Face claim: Meg Donnelly

Power: Redacted

Summary: When the Hargreeves were fifteen, they snuck out to their first ever party — not that any of them remember it. But nine months later, when a girl Luther almost recognizes shows up at the Academy with a baby she claims is his, Luther has no doubt that it’s true, and immediately agrees to take custody. And so, Rebekah Hargreeves is the first child to grow up in the Academy knowing that she’s loved.

For fourteen years, her life was pretty good. Sure, her aunts and uncles had all left before her fifth birthday, and yes, her grandfather was a nightmare when it came to training her materialization abilities, and, okay, she’d spent the past four years desperately missing her dad, but it could have been worse. And then her grandfather is found dead in his office, and Bekah knows that she’s about to find out how much worse it can get.

Name: Sierra Nearing

Story: Once Upon A Dream

Face claim: Kennedy McMann

Power: Redacted

Summary: Sierra Nearing hadn’t planned on spending her life working at Griddy’s, but life didn’t care much for her plans. She had moved in with Aunt Agnes when she was 11, after her mom passed away, and by 13 she had started helping out in the diner. Thousands of faces had come and gone, but very few were as memorable as the Hargreeves.

There were seven of them when they first started coming, then six, then five, and Sierra watched as they all changed with each loss. She watched how they went from giggling together in their favourite booth, eating donuts so fast that she worried they might make themselves sick, to barely picking at their donuts and trying not to meet each other’s eyes. And then they stopped coming together at all.

They still visited, but separately, and Sierra would never pretend that she knew exactly what had happened, but she pieced it together over the years. Allison left the city, the others left the mansion, Luther got left behind. They all wanted to leave their pasts behind them, but none of them could let go of Griddy’s. So they didn’t. Once a week every week, each of them on a different day, they’d show up. Looking for a warm drink and a bite to eat; looking for an escape from the rest of the world; looking for an open ear known as Sierra. And so, Sierra listened.

Over the years she grew closer to the long-estranged Hargreeves siblings. She stopped seeing them as customers and started seeing them as friends. She did what she could to look out for them, to support them, to stand in for the siblings they’d lost over time. But she never told any of them about their other siblings’ visits. She wanted them to feel safe in the diner, like they had at least one place where they could let down their guards.

They were never supposed to know that they all still shared a connection to Griddy’s, to Sierra. Not until they were ready to face each other, to face their past. But then Reginald Hargreeves dies, and Sierra receives not one but four invitations to the funeral.

Name: Sofia Martinez

Story: Stop The World

Face claim: Lindsey Morgan

Power: Persuasive Speech

Love Interest: Diego Hargreeves

Summary: Despite Diego’s opinion, Sofia Martinez never stole anything. She just… asked nicely. She asked nicely for the Ferrari she’d left the dealership with on her sixteenth birthday; she asked nicely for the original Renoir panting that she’d obtained; she even asked nicely for permission to use the apartment that she and Diego shared in Al’s gym. She’d never asked Diego to be her friend, or her roommate, she was very careful to not convince him to do anything. She didn’t usually care who she used her gift on, but she never wanted to take away Diego’s free will.

But when Reginald Hargreeves dies under mysterious circumstances, Diego is the one doing the asking, and Sofia is as unable to say no to him as anyone else is to her. And despite the family drama, mild torture, and the literal apocalypse, she can’t bring herself to regret saying yes.

Name: Sunny Tolbert

Story: Sunbeam

Face claim: Lily Collins

Power: Sunlight Manipulation

Despite knowing that she was one of the forty-three miracle babies, Sunny Tolbert knew that she was nothing special. Unlike the Umbrella Academy kids that she saw on the news, she had no powers, no gifts, nothing but a love of exploring old cemeteries; a love that brought her face to face with the Séance himself. When she finds the boy, barely seventeen, sobbing in a graveyard, Sunny is desperate to protect him from the horrors that only he can see, and suddenly, something changes. The cemetery is glowing; no, Sunny herself is glowing. And maybe, just maybe, a boy who can talk to ghosts meeting a girl who can create light is exactly what it’ll take to save the world.

Name: Taylor Bell

Alias/Number: Number 5: The Replacement

Story: The Spare

Face claim: Elizabeth Olsen

Power: Telekinesis

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. He got seven. Taylor Bell was not one of them. But after her parents’ mysterious deaths, only days after Number Five disappeared, Reginald Hargreeves finally adopted the telekinetic teenager. Known as Number Five, The Replacement, Taylor has never had any doubt as to where she stands in this family. She’s all too happy to turn her back on it all and leave as soon as she can, but then her father dies, she returns home, and the boy she was brought in to replace turns up, warning them about the apocalypse.

Name: Teresa Hargreeves

Alias: The Trial

Story: Legacy

Faceclaim: Kiernan Shipka

Power: Reverse Divination

Summary: Klaus Hargreeves would be the first to admit that he doesn’t remember most of his teenage years. He certainly doesn’t remember Tracy James, one of his many one night stands, but Tracy remembers him. And, nine months after they first met, she shows up on the doorstep of the Academy, newborn baby in tow. But before Tracy can find Klaus, she’s intercepted by Reginald Hargreeves himself, who convinces her to leave the child with her “loving” grandfather. But Reginald never wanted a granddaughter, he wanted an experiment. Teresa Hargreeves is raised in complete isolation in the east wing of the mansion, never once hearing about the Umbrella Academy. Her life is restricted to Reginald’s trials and training sessions, nothing more. Until Reginald dies, and Teresa shows up at the funeral, expecting it to only be herself, Grace, and Pogo. But much to her surprise, six others show up, adults who claim to have grown up in the mansion. Some teenage boy showing up with warnings about an impending apocalypse is nothing to Teresa, not when a simple handshake shows that she’s standing in front of her father for the first time in her life.

Name: Tiffany Katz

Story: Last Night Of The World

Faceclaim: Lily James

Love Interest: Diego Hargreeves

Summary: On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth; Tiffany Katz was not one of those babies. In fact, not only was Tiffany Katz not born on October 1st, Tiffany Katz wasn’t even born in 1989.

Born in 1940, alongside her twin brother Dave, Tiffany Katz was as ordinary as they came. Her life was never supposed to be extraordinary, but when Klaus Hargreeves found himself in the Vietnam War, he met a soldier and a nurse and he fell in love, and that changed everything. Tiffany watched as her brother fell in love with a strange man, tried to save him as he bled out in that man’s arms, and accidentally followed that strange man into the future. She didn’t know much about Klaus Hargreeves, but when she finds herself in an unfamiliar city, around unfamiliar people, she turns to him for guidance. When he tells her that she’s in the future with less than a week until the apocalypse? For some reason, she can’t help but believe him. And well, what else could she do but try to help the mysterious and super-powered Hargreeves siblings save the world?

And if saving the world brings her closer to Klaus’ incredibly cute brother with a thing for knives and leather, well, apparently the Katz siblings were just destined to fall for Hargreeves boys.

Name: Tori Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 8

Story: When It Rains

Face claim: Margot Robbie

Power: Redacted

Summary: No, Tori Hargreeves didn’t want to talk about her life in the Umbrella Academy. Just because Vanya had thought that it was somehow acceptable to publish her bullshit book didn’t mean that she was right, and it definitely didn’t mean that Tori was going to start answering questions about her childhood. When she left the mansion with Diego and Klaus she promised herself to leave the past in the past, and goddammit she would keep that promise.

She wasn’t too proud of her first few years of freedom: the endless drinking and drugs with Klaus, the vigilantism with Diego, the admittedly tragic makeover she’d given herself… but she had turned her life around. She had gotten a GED, graduated university, gone to law school. She had passed the bar and started working in family law, determined to protect children from abusers in the same way she wished someone had done for her. She had built herself a new life, one where she didn’t have to think about Reginald Hargreeves or his abuse. One where she could be herself; where she could be happy. But when it rains, it pours, and a storm of apocalyptic proportions is looming on Tori’s horizon.

She left the mansion with a promise to leave the past in the past but between Reginald’s death, Five’s dramatic return, and the upcoming apocalypse, Tori Hargreeves might have no choice but to break that promise.

Name: Vienna Montgomery

Story: The World Turned Upside Down

Face claim: Amanda Seyfried

Power: Lie Detection

Love Interest: Diego or Luther (tbd)

Summary: Vienna Montgomery knew that most private investigators didn’t find success quite as easily as she did, and she knew that it was because most private investigators didn’t have an uncanny ability to know when they were being lied to. Maybe it was an unfair advantage, but she could live with that as long as she was helping people. All she had ever wanted to do was help people, which is why her patch had started her off at the police academy. She had loved training with Diego and Eudora, becoming the three musketeers of their their class, but she had quickly realized that being a police officer wasn’t what she wanted. So, a week after Diego got kicked out, she quit and started PI training instead.

For almost ten years she had successfully run her own business, having dinner with Diego and Eudora at least once a week, never leaving a case unsolved, and gaining a reputation as the best PI in the city. But her career would always be secondary to her friends. Her two former classmates were her best friends; the only people who knew that the secret to her success; they were the only family she had.

But when Reginald Hargreeves dies, it isn’t Diego who asks her to go with him. No, she gets the call from Luther Hargreeves, Diego’s long estranged brother and rival, asking her to come and investigate the mysterious death.

Name: Virginia West

Story: Written In Stone

Face claim: Melissa Benoist

Power: Writing manifestation

While her parents loved her, they were often away, and Virginia found solace with her beloved books. A love of reading quickly turned into a dream of writing, but when she started her first story, at only nine years of age, Ginny learned that she was different. As she wrote, her characters and stories came to life around her, and the more she wrote, the more real they became. Desperate to understand her own powers, Ginny found her way to Reginald Hargreeves, and to the Umbrella Academy.

Name: Wilhelmina Hargreeves

Alias/Number: Number 7; later Number 6

Story: Children Behave

Face claim: Victoria Pedretti

Power: Redacted

Summary: As Number 7, Wilhelmina Hargreeves had always come up short of the rest of her siblings — at least, those with powers. After all, while projecting was useful, it wasn’t very useful in combat; it was a good distraction, but someone else still had to apprehend her targets. It wasn’t particularly nice, to know that she would never be good enough, but she was used to it, she could handle it.

Until she decided not to. After Five disappeared, life at the mansion became infinitely worse, and at sixteen, Willa became the next of the siblings to leave the mansion. She left her number with her siblings, packed up, and moved halfway across the country, and never heard from them again. Until Ben died. Until Ben died, and Willa knew, she just knew, that she could have prevented it if she hadn’t left — and, just a few years later, Vanya would tell the entire world the same thing when she published her book.

Which is why, when she hears about Luther’s accident only a few years later, she knows she has to go back to the house of her nightmares. She can’t let another one of her siblings die, not when she could have saved him. But when she returns to find out that she’s now Number 6, and that Luther is being sent to the moon, she realizes that Reginald had it all planned out — and she just gave him exactly what he wanted.

For four years, Willa found herself trapped in the mansion; unwilling to leave in case something happened to Luther, and unable to escape from Reginald’s constant scrutiny. Until finally, four years later, Luther is coming home, Reginald is dead, and Willa is free — and the main suspect in Reginald’s death, with the apocalypse only days away. So, maybe not so free.

Name: X Hargreeves

Alias/Number: 10, The Shadow

Story: Double Or Nothing

Face claim: Millie Bobby Brown & Shelley Hennig

Power: Darkness Manipulation

#masterlist #ocappreciation #umbrella academy oc

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wordstro · 4 years

Note

mingi + mafia au + you shouldn't have done that

mingi x gender neutral reader, 1.5k, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

Part 2

you were meant to do great things. at least that’s what your parents, your teachers, even your best friend used to tell you over and over and over, beaming at you and whatever your newest accolade of the moment was. you had ranked number one in your class all throughout high school. you had your pick between the top three universities in the country. at graduation, you were on top of the world.

and then, things went downhill and never really stopped.

you’re still not quite sure when you’ll hit rock bottom, when you’ll finally get to turn your life around. or maybe, you missed that chance long ago. your father grew incredibly ill and your mother fell into debt. you worked too many part time jobs to help pay it off and your grades slipped. eventually, your father passed away and your mother was too busy dealing with grief and debt to really be a mother. you failed one too many classes and got kicked out of university. you still felt like you needed to help your mother pay off the crippling amount of debt and you indulged yourself in people you would have never given the light of day. and, to top it all off, your best friend slowly stopped answering your calls and your texts, drifting out of your life as if he hadn’t been there since you were both children, as if all those years and late nights and time spent together meant nothing.

it’s been years since then, but the mere thought of him still brings tears to your eyes, still makes your stomach curl with guilt, still makes you wonder what the hell you did wrong. during your brief phone calls with your mother, she would ask about him, and you never had the heart to just tell her. but, maybe she noticed your short answers because, nowadays, she’s stopped. nowadays, she’s even stopped asking for details about your job.

you’re grateful for that, really, because how the hell are you supposed to tell your sweet, tired mother that you work as a freelance hacker for an underground network of crime syndicates? it’s a bit of a mouthful, really, and you don’t think your poor mother’s heart can take such news.

sometimes, you wonder if this is your rock bottom. especially when you catch sight of yourself in the blackness of your screen before you boot up your laptop. the debt hasn’t stopped and you don’t think it ever really will because interest is a fucking bitch, but it’s become manageable. sometimes, you think about how you could go back to school. you could get decent work in an office somewhere.

but, you kind of like the thrill of this. you could go back, but you won’t. you know you won’t. you enjoy the rush of adrenaline when you receive a notification from one of your clients instructing you to extract information for them. you never ask too many questions about the whos. you only really care about the compensation. and this particular task has a price tag of several million won.

you raise your brow, stretching your fingers and cracking your back, already thinking about all the things you plan on buying with the extra money, grinning because the task in question is easy. almost too easy. you just need to root out a location from within a shit ton of security walls, as if whoever built it absolutely does not want anyone to find them. you grin and get to work.

~.~.~.~.~

you’ve seen your fair share of security systems over the course of your career and you’d rank this one as one of the tougher ones. still, you get in. you always get in.

and, for a moment, the IP address appears on your screen. the tension falls from your shoulders as you sit back admiring your work. for a moment, all is well.

until it isn’t.

your screen turns red, filling with white static, and it’s fucking terrifying. especially when it starts keening, high pitched, shrill, ringing in your ears, until it goes black.

you freeze, slowly peeking out from behind your chair, eyeing the computer in concern. you wonder if it’ll explode. white symbols fill the screen, cursor blinking. it takes a moment to register the message and when you do, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat. it’s your full name and your current location, written out in full, almost as if it’s mocking you. a chill runs straight down your spine and, for a moment, you’re frozen in your spot, crouched behind your computer chair. you were always cautious. you switched between VPNs constantly, you kept your work computer clear of anything and everything relating to your identity. this shouldn’t be happening. holy shit, you need to go. you shoot up, rummaging through your closet for the getaway bag you made long ago, just in case. you knew you needed a contingency plan when you started this. you just never expected to actually need it. but, now, you need to get out. you need a burner phone and cash and -

knock, knock.

the things in your hand slip, clattering all over the floor, and you flinch at the loud noise, glancing between the laptop and the door. you contemplate jumping out the window, but you’re on the third floor and you doubt that -

beep. beep. beep. click.

the front door sits ajar and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. for a beat, you are so terrified you aren’t sure if you can even move. then your brain jumps into overdrive. you need something to defend yourself with, though. you’re frantic when you yank the lamp off the table beside the couch, scurrying into the kitchen.

it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and you hate it. you swear your own heartbeat can be heard in the quiet of your apartment. there is no force used, you notice, as if your brain is clinging to the tiniest details as a way to keep calm and collected. nothing about the knocking at your door nor the technical break-in is forceful or loud, and it’s somehow worse than if someone had just kicked your door down and stuck a gun in your face. you lift the lamp over your head, just as you hear the creak of the front door opening and the faintest of whispers. you hear footsteps, slow and measured, so fucking casual, echoing throughout your apartment and your grip on the lamp tightens. it doesn’t take long for the footsteps to approach the kitchen. you don’t even try to catch a glimpse of the intruder; the moment they step into reach, you bring the lamp down over their head with a loud thud.

a man cries out in pain - the loudest noise you’ve heard yet this evening, the sound making you flinch - and you back out of the kitchen, nearly tripping on your own feet, not even bothering to watch the man crumple to his knees. you just hope he stays down.

but, you didn’t account for the other voice, the other footsteps.

you yelp when you run face first into a sturdy wall of a person, thrashing as their fingers wrap around you, holding you steadfast with such ease. you think, holy shit, holy shit, I don’t want to die, while you’re being dragged and tossed onto the floor of your living room. you hit your head too hard, vision swimming, pain shooting through your skull, but you manage to put space between you and where you think the intruders are. you stare, wary, terrified, thinking, thinking, thinking. you open your mouth, ready to scream, but there’s a pretty boy with dark eyes and sharp features staring down at you, head tilted, a gun cocked in his hands.

he says, “scream and i’ll shoot.”

you didn’t account for three intruders, the man with the gun, the one you hit over the head with the lamp, and whoever is helping him up. your eyes flicker past the kitchen entrance, frantically searching over the man’s shoulder for an opening. you notice the lack of face coverings - from what you’ve picked up throughout your years of working in the underground, you know that is not a promising sign, it usually means they don’t plan on letting you live long enough to expose their identities - and you scoot further back until your back hits the wall. the man’s eyes and gun follows you, a kind smile playing on his lips, out of place in a situation like this. it’s just as unsettling as the lack of force behind their break in, the silence with which they work under.

two people emerge from your kitchen, the man you presumably hit over the head grumbling under his breath while the other one holds him up, towering over him. the man with the gun speaks up, pulling your attention back to him, “now, tell us.” he steps forward and you have nowhere to go. “why exactly were you trying to hack into our systems? who put you up to this?”

“I…I don’t know.” your voice comes out steadier than you expected and you’re grateful for that. the man with the gun sighs. you glare, you can’t help it. “I really don’t know. I make it a point not to know who my clients are.”

the man sighs, yet again, and somehow that angers you. you watch as he steps back from you, gun still directed at you, turning his torso to face his friends. your gaze flickers up to them and you -

“holy shit.” your fingers dig into your palms, your eyes locked on him.

because it’s song mingi.

memories that you have spent years trying to forget floods into the forefront of your mind. birthdays spent with him, his soft smile, the first memories you’ve had with him, playing tag in your parents’ house. the way he sometimes insisted you be the big spoon when the two of you cuddled, laughing at the way you could barely contain his long limbs in your arms. the way he cried into your shoulder when his family dog had to be put down. the promises of forever he made with you. his laugh, the way his eyes would scrunch up and his smile would get so big. memories and feelings and everything just floods through you and you can feel tears prickling at your eyes, your chest heavy, words stuck in your throat.

he has red hair now, his arm curled around the man you hit over the head. still, he hasn’t changed much. he’s taller, broader, older, but he is the same in so many ways. his eyes, though, are different. the light and love they always held has dimmed and there’s something dark about his gaze, something ancient and sad and irredeemable, something broken. your breath catches at the sight, at the way his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, before they narrow, at the way you can’t read his face easily like you used to be able to.

“mingi?” you speak, then, your voice less steady than before, barely audible really, if it wasn’t for how quiet the apartment had become. both his friends startle at that, but your eyes are on him. there is a mix of anger and relief and yearning that curls in your chest. you’ve missed him, you realize. you’re angry because he left you so long ago, that he is standing here now, on the side of the man with the gun pointed at you, and you should be mad, should be screaming, but you missed him. maybe this is your rock bottom.

for a moment, mingi softens, eyes returning to the way he used to look at you before. for a moment, you can pretend he still cares about you.

but, only for a moment.

his gaze steels, his lips pressing into a thin line. he slips his hands off his friend, stepping towards you and there is an aura surrounding him that is unfamiliar and, frankly, terrifying.

he crouches, until he is at eye level with you. you hold your breath. he says, “you’ve built a very notorious reputation for yourself you know. makes sense, though, you’ve always been the greatest at whatever you put your mind to.”

there’s something so very foreboding about the way he says that. you blink, manage to respond, “why are you…what do you want from me? what are you…what are you going to do to me?”

mingi looks at you like you are a stranger and you think, no, this is your rock bottom. he leans in close, red hair falling over his unreadable eyes, elbows resting on his knees. the world falls away and all that is left is you and mingi, mingi and you.

he breathes, “hacking into our systems? you really shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart.” then he tilts his head and stares you down. you cannot breathe as he tacks on, “now we have to make an example out of you.”

#song mingi #ateez #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #mingi angst #requests #i hope u like it!! maybe i want to make a part 2 but idk TT #Anonymous

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Eidolon 12 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: Forced feeding of a drink

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

Chapter 12: Entrapment

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed since he had been in the room. There was no apparent clock, even if he could swear he could hear the soft, steady ticking of one, and he didn't carry a watch or phone he could check. Danny's eyes wondered to one of the white walls for a moment as he tried to imagine it with a non-frosted window. Even a glance outside would be better than nothing. At least then he could tell for certain if it was day or night.

Heck, even watching the scenery for a while would be an improvement over his current activity of lying face up on the eerily pristine bed and staring at the ceiling. He had already checked the entire room (including under the bed) six times for anything he could use to at least get out of the room, and he could only do that so many times before it started to get to him. The exhaustion didn't help. While he was searching, his limbs had decidingly refused to remain normal for more than a few minutes at a time. From the time the strange occurrences began, he had experienced a few bad days, but nothing compared to this particular one. It was almost as if simply being in the room was making it worse.

The ceiling held no answers or a hidden plan of escape, but he continued to stare at it anyways. He knew he should be trying to escape while worrying about Winston and his friends, but he was unable to summon the effort. It was almost as if an odd hollowness had replaced his heart. He slowly sat up as he considered the strangeness of it. Maybe it was just that exhausted, or maybe the room was getting to him more than he thought.

.....

A sweet smell caught his attention as he opened his eyes. Groggy and confused, he slowly sat up and stared for a moment as his brain tried to process what he was seeing. While he had been asleep, someone had placed a silver tray which held a small pastry and an unknown drink with a strangely appealing color on the floor. He was rather surprised he could see it from his location, but perhaps whoever had put it there had placed it there on purpose.

Curious, he slowly crawled off the bed and moved over to it. The pastry didn't seem like anything special, but he was starting to feel hungry and allowed himself to try it. The drink was different. He noted that whatever was in it was thicker than water and gave off a strong yet attractively sweet smell. It was also an unusual green color, which was what made him wary of it. The drink looked a little too much like the antifreeze he had occasionally helped Winston put into his car. He was probably being paranoid, but he was locked in room without any apparent way for him to escape. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that whoever put him there was going to eventually kill him. Isn't that what usually happened to kidnapped kids?

His eyes widened as the weight of his previous thought hit him. When a child went missing, didn't the news usually mention it was nearly impossible to find the child alive if the child couldn't be found within twenty four hours? And didn't adolescents fall into the same category when it came to the statistics? Panic welled up in his chest as he stared at his hands. Exactly how long had he been in the room? If anything, he was probably didn't have much time left. Well, he wasn't going to give up without a fight!

A guttural yell escaped him as he charged the only door in the room. The wood quivered for a moment as he bounced off of it and landed painfully on the floor. Undeterred and filled with resolve, he rushed it again and again with similar results. His whole body began to ache from the effort, but it wasn't enough to make him stop. He didn't want to die. He couldn't die! Not while his friends didn't know where he was (if they even knew he was missing), nor while Winston was still in the hospital. He just had to escape!

But he couldn't do anything if he was exhausted. After bouncing off the door about ten more times, he allowed himself to relax and rest against the side of the bed for a little before he tried again. His right shoulder was throbbing and his butt was sore from hitting the ground so many times, but he tried to ignore the pain as he examined the door. What was it made of? Steel? There didn't seem to be any sign of damage on it, but he had to have done something to it. When he recovered more, a closer look would be in order. Aiming for a weak spot would be far more beneficial than continuing to blindly run at it.

A though occurred to him as he looked at the door. Maybe he could pull the pins out of the hinges… It was so simplistic, it could actually work. Curious as to why he didn't think of it earlier, he slowly stood up and limped over. Wow, ramming it had taken more out of him than he thought.

He ran his fingers along the frame as he tried to find some sign of the hinges, but quickly realized it was futile. This door opened from the other side… There went that idea. Well, while he was there he might as well check the door for any signs of damage. There wasn't much to find, but there was some near the stubbornly locked doorknob. It wasn't as much as he had hoped but a few more hits to the right side of the door should be enough to at least get him out of the room. From there… he would have to wing it. He just hoped there weren't any other doors like the one currently keeping him captive out there. This one was bad enough.

Deciding it was not the best of ideas to attack the door again in his current state, he headed back towards the bed and laid down. He stole a quick look at the platter of food before he buried his face in the pillow. He was starting to get a bit hungry, but there was no way he was going to eat poisoned food. A growl combined with a gnawing feeling in his stomach entertained him as he drifted back into sleep.

…

"Why… won't… this thing…. Break?" Danny yelled as he kicked the door. After waking up, he had resumed his task of running at the door, but after no further progress, frustration had taken hold of him. He sighed as he banged his head off the door. If he couldn't get past something as simple as a door, how was he going to escape?

A clicking sound caught his attention. Glancing down at the doorknob, he noticed movement. Suspicious, he backed away and waited. The doorknob continued to rattle for a moment before a hard yank pulled the door completely open. The man who was revealed glanced at the door carefully before looking at Danny and smiling. "What exactly have you been getting yourself into? Hmm?"

"Y-you!" Danny stammered as recognition hit him. Vlad Masters had done well on his promise. Somehow the man had managed to take him from the police station and put him in this prison of a room. This was a worst case scenario… well, maybe not the worst. At least this man didn't particularly want to kill him, he hoped. "Where am I? What do you want from me?"

Vlad shook his pointer finger as if he was telling off a young child. "All in due time, my boy. But first, I must ask, how are you feeling?"

A blank stare was the only response Danny could give as he tried to process the question. This man kidnapped him and then turned around and asked about his condition. Was it him or did something just not add up?

Vlad took a couple steps into the room and glanced around. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the untouched tray of food Danny had carefully moved out of the way. "I see that you didn't touch your snack. I had a servant place it there in case you got hungry… It's been a couple days since I placed you here. You really should eat something…. Or at the very least, have a drink."

A couple days? He had been here for a couple days? Jeez… this room really did steal all sense of time. He shook his head. He would have to deal with it later; there were more important problems… like getting away from the madman in front of him. "Sorry, but that's been the last thing on my mind," he snapped.

Danny watched carefully as Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. From the limited interactions he had previously had with the man, he had learned enough to know Vlad was slightly annoyed. "Come now, Daniel," Vlad's tone almost matched the vary one Winston had used in the past when he was trying to convince him to do his chores. "Believe it or not, I do have your best interests at heart. Starving yourself isn't going to accomplish anything and neither is repeated throwing yourself against the door. You'll just be doing more damage to yourself than to it."

"Says the man who kidnapped me."

"I don't expect you to understand the reasons for my actions… at least not yet…" The older man moved to the tray to retrieve its lone cup before turning back to him. "But I assure you, everything was done for your benefit."

"Sorry if I don't believe you…"

"I assumed you wouldn't listen. We'll discuss this later once you've calmed down."

"'Calmed down'? Calm down! You've fricken kidnapped me! How the hell am I supposed to calm down?" His fists were balled and his shoulders tense as he spoke. It was taking almost all of his will power to not punch him in the face. Actually, that might not be a bad idea. Vlad didn't look all that strong, and he was a business man (they don't have time to work out)…. One good punch to the face should knock him out. And with the door finally being open, he could make his escape.

Without another thought, he charged Vlad. The older man looked surprised as Danny's fist came close in on its target. Danny smirked as he had a clean shot, but stumbled in horror as he landed. Instead of hitting a wall of flesh, his fist along with his body just passed through the man. Unsure exactly what happened, he slowly backed away. Glancing to his side, he realized he had a clear shot to the door and made a break for it.

Before he could even get through the opening, a strong pair of hands grabbed him from behind. He fought, flailed, and yelled in an attempt to break free, but whomever had him had a grasp like a vice. Apparently tired of his antics, his captor spun him around , let him go for a brief confusing moment, before using one arm to pin him against his body and to grab his chin with the other.

Being unable to move his head, Danny had no idea who was keeping him from escaping. Or, for that matter, where he had come from since it seemed like only Vlad had come alone. However, the person holding him felt unusually cold, almost as if he had been standing in a walk-in freezer just prior to him grabbing hold of him. Whoever this person was, he was a major obstacle in his goal to escape.

"Hold him still," Vlad commanded of his unknown aid as he approached the pair. Danny felt a little more than unnerved as he watched. There were no traces of kindness on his face, just a cold, calculating, business-like stare which sent shivers down his spine. "Daniel, I was hoping you weren't going to force me to do this, but as you've been rather uncooperative, you leave me little choice."

"W-what are you doing?" he stammered as Vlad held out the cup of the strange green liquid to him.

"It's simple really. You're body is already in the middle of realizing what it really is. This can take some time, but I know of a way of… let's just phrase it as 'speeding up the process'."

"I don't want any!" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a very childish thing to say, but he was absolutely terrified of whatever the drink or Vlad was going to do to him. "Get away!"

"You're in no position to give orders boy," the person holding him hissed into his ear and adjusted his grip so he could open his mouth by putting pressure on his cheeks.

Danny tried to break out of his captor's grasp, but he was far too strong. He barely managed a wiggle when Vlad poured the liquid into his open mouth. Unable to move, he was forced to drink the entire glass. Despite its sweet odor, it had a terribly bitter taste which was coupled with a burning sensation. It was enough to make him gag, and his stomach didn't appreciate it any better than his taste buds. The man who was holding him decided to let go of him, allowing him to drop to the floor, just in time to allow him to retch.

It seemed to take several long moments for him to regain control of his stomach. Once he did, he stole a look at Vlad, who seemed had a cold air of amusement around him. However, his attention was quickly taken by the figure besides the billionaire. It appeared to have a masculine shape, but it was clearly not human. Its skin had a sickly blue sheen, and its eyes were a sickening familiar soulless glowing red. An ethereal glow surrounded it as it floated a few inches off of the floor. Danny felt unnerved as recognition hit him; even though he had never seen it clearly before, this figure was the very same creature that had cornered him in the graveyard.

Vlad caught Danny's gaze and smiled. "I see you've previously met my associate, Plasmius."

Plasmius…? Why did that name sound so familiar to him? Wait… Winston had mentioned a person by a similar name when… His eyes widened as recognition hit him. "I d-don't understand…. W-why do you know it?"

"Whatever do you mean, my boy?"

"Winston… Winston said that he… it… attacked my parents. It's the reason why they're gone!" He weakly tried to stand, but his previous injuries from hitting the door suddenly seemed amplified making it incredibly difficult. "I don't understand. He said you were friends with them! Why… Why would you work with the thing that took them away?"

"It's rather simple, Daniel," the creature, Plasmius, told him with a wave of the hand. Without wasting another minute, it drove straight into Vlad. Horrified, Danny stayed rooted to the spot as Vlad's eyes glowed red for a moment. As they faded, a black ring which cackled with slight discharges of energy appeared around the man's waist. It then split into two and each one passed over one have of the body: one towards the feet, the other, the head. As they passed, Vlad's being was quickly replaced with that of Plasmius'. When the rings disappeared, Vlad Masters was gone; only Plasmius remained.

There was no way he had just witnessed what he did. It had to be a dream! There was no way a man could turn into a monster! It just wasn't possible!

"Can you really not believe what you just witnessed?" Plasmius asked as it floated closer to him. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run, but he couldn't. His fear had rooted him to the spot, and he was about to pay for it dearly. "Vlad Masters and Vlad Plasmius are truly one in the same even if one appears human while the other, a ghost." And, as to prove its point, it summoned the black rings again. Once they disappeared, Vlad Masters carefully dropped to the floor while continuing to move. "You asked me why I attacked your family. There are several reasons, but I suppose the primary one involves you."

"W-what do you mean…? Ugh!" As he spoke, a wave of pain raced through his body, dropping him down to his knees. He tried to steady himself by using one of his hands, but it refused by slipping through the floor instead of offering support. Danny stared at his arm in horror as the translucent appearance of his hand began to spread upwards towards his shoulder.

A chuckle escaped Vlad as he watched Danny's predicament with a sickening satisfaction. "Isn't it obvious? You're a lot more like me than you realize." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Do you believe in curses, Daniel? Even if you don't, you should as you're living proof of one. Legend states a family once delved too far into their work of studying the afterlife. To make sure their secrets would never be known, several powerful spirits cursed the family. Fifteen generations would pass before a male child would be born to them who neither completely belonged to the material or spirit realms…"

"Though this boy would appear human for his first fifteen years of life, he would come into his monstrous inheritance on his date of birth and forever after walk as a symbol of chaos." Vlad then knelt down and grabbed the boy's shoulder to make it easier for him to stare into his eyes. "Do you get it now? Everything I've done was to get a hold of you and the power you will soon possess."

"Y-you're lying! There's no way…! I can't be anything like you! You're a ghost… Th-they're dead! I'm not… I'm not…!" Danny pushed the older man away from his as he scooted backwards towards the wall. None of what he… no, it, said made any sense. Curse? Spirits? Did it mean it was going to turn him into a ghost too? He shook his head to try and clear away the thought. Vlad had said he wasn't going to hurt him… but that was before he showed him what he really was. What was he going to do?

A creepy laugh rang through the room. Vlad sneered at him as his laugh died. "Whoever said you had to die to become a ghost? But, you'll find out what I mean soon. It appears that the concentrated ectoplasm I gave you is finally starting to take effect." A satisfied look crossed his face while moving towards the door. "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. I'm sure you'll be a lot more cooperative when I return."

Danny barely noticed when Vlad slammed the door closed. His body was starting to feel like it was on fire burning, yet freezing him as it began to consume him. He convulsed as his body tried to reject the unnatural feeling, but it was to no avail. Time which was already slow within the room seemed to come to a crawl as the pain took precedence over every other thought.

Unsure what drove him to move, he tried to force himself to the bed. It wouldn't accomplish much, but its promise of comfort appealed to his wreck of a body. Every step was sheer torture, but the call of the pristine sheets was enough to force him to keep moving.

Another wave of pain rocked his body, sending him to the floor mere inches from his goal. He groaned in agony as he realized it was getting worse. In a last attempt for some stability, he desperately grasped at one of his bed posts as another convulsion coursed through his body. The pain that accompanied it was even more intense than the previous time.

He could barely move as the pain seemed to burn throughout his body. In a desperate attempt for salvation, he reached out his hand in hopes someone or thing would show him mercy and save him all the while wondering what he had done to deserve such a fate…

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

Notes: A couple of different things here.

1) Danny's thoughts and feelings being affected by the room is not as farfetched as some people might think. Prolonged periods in a purely white room can cause aspects of sensory deprivation (a disconnect with ones senses). Some people use sensory deprivation for reflection or meditation without negative effects, but it has been known to drive people insane. Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia has several examples of this in its history.

2)The statistics of finding a child alive 24 hours after abduction is horrifying nonexistent. While it is true that sometimes a captor will keep the abducted child alive for years, cases like that are so rare that if the police can't find sign of the child within a day, they know they will most likely not find the child alive.

3) Antifreeze does usually have a sweet odor (unless bittering agents have been added as a deterrent), and sadly, ectoplasm sometimes reminds me of it.

4)Do you recognize the last few sentences of this chapter? You should. They're a more stylized version of the opening I have in the 1st chapter.

#Eidolon #danny phantom #dp au #dp #danny phantom au #alternate universe #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #vlad masters #supernatural #paranormal #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy

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