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#he had three parents who loved him dearly and never would’ve put a hand on him
spookyboywhump · 3 years
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cain sneaking food for zander🥺🥺🥺 zander standing up to cain’s father🥺🥺
They didn’t mean to develop such a strange relationship but early on they both had their limits. Cain didn’t want to risk Zander dying, he got way too attached to him the moment he realized he couldn’t leave, and no matter what Cain had done to him, Zander still knew he didn’t deserve to be treated that way by his own father
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sirensmojo · 3 years
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"Big Bank!" - Hubby! Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: Big Fluff, Old Money love story vibes.
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Summary: Tommy decided to let his wife take care of his Gin. He comes to taste it for the first time after the Gin was met with great success.
A/N: We stand for a caring & trusting Thomas, sorry not sorry.
*Masterlist*
It was a windy day when Tommy entrusted you with his Gin distillery.
The sun was out, as your children were running around the garden, their giggling easing his mind. His head dropped backward on the garden chair as fingers of one of his hands were fidgeting with his cup or whiskey, as a cigarette was locked in between his lips.
Spring was early this year, much to your family’s pleasure. Spending time outside was something you loved to do, and knowing Tommy’s busy agenda, you made sure to make every family moment the best one.
No need to say time flew so fast, the days becoming months, becoming years.
Tommy and you was an evidence. From the day you bumped into each other in the London’s library his sister Ada used to work, you were inseparable. Thus you didn’t know each other for very long, but everything between you made this fact questionable.
You were acting as if you knew each other since children, a single look and you understood what the other thought. Not too many words were said, but not too many words were needed.
Although you weren’t Tommy’s first wife, you were “the perfect two”, making all the people you knew jealous and envious.
“My love,” you announced your presence when coming closer to the garden table as your husband was eyes closed. “I did some thinking.” You added, catching his attention.
Tommy straightened back his head and he was now facing you as you seated in front of him, glimpsing from afar of your three little boys.
“You know I don’t like your whiskey or any type of alcohol, truly.” You raised your brows, and he puffed on his cig, waiting for you to continue. “I want to make Shelby’s Gin.” You let out outright.
No need to turn around your wish, by the way he shifted position you already knew he was ready to hear anything, and you didn’t want to disturb him from his peace. You knew how he dearly appreciated those little moments in which he didn’t have to think about running a business or dealing with dirty gangsters and rude people.
“You want to do what?” He raised a brow not too sure he heard you well, but when he caught eyes of your lips curling at the corner of your mouth, he knew he had heard it well.
His family was his haven of peace and you would do anything to take off some weight off your Shelby’s shoulders. it was a regular task, a daily basis habit that you quickly took and that you’ll probably never lose.
“I already tried a mixture.” His deep voice accentuating your smile.
“It’s my turn now, you played enough with that, you need to focus on real business now. Put your mind elsewhere and let me fill my bottles.”
You couldn’t quite put your finger on what changed precisely, but you noticed a shifting in your husband’s expression along with the gleam animating his iris.
You thought it was worry.
You lost your father a few months ago due to lung disease and your mother died long ago when you were the age of your own children, and as an only child, you were now all alone without your parents.
Gracefully you had Tommy and the kids because if you hadn’t you didn’t know how you would’ve handled this loss.
As being a sensible cord, your husband didn’t bring it up, and he wasn’t the type of comforting people with words anyway, but he tried it his way, which means he bought you a ridiculous amount of new jewellery and books because he knew how much you liked to read and how you were a simp for big diamonds.
Incidentally, Tommy always found it funny how much time you spend with your nose in books while having a voracious appetite for jewellery. He would never miss an occasion to make fun of you when catching you reading as you had to wear glasses, and it was all funny and stuff till he too, had to wear glasses to read.
Now, in bed, you looked like two old people, instead, you were reading adventure and dramatic novels whereas he was stuck with political subjects.
“Okay.” He didn’t hesitate a single moment which made you smile.
“Okay?” you repeated, your smile growing as seconds passed. He straightened back, leaning over the table to you and his hands reached for yours.
You intertwined your fingers together with ease, sparkles spreading at the tips of each of it.
It was that way with every of his touches. He just had that power over you, which you were proud of as it was just love. It could never be anything else.
His deep blue eyes were anchored into your Y/C/E’s ones and you knew he was trying to bring you comfort. He knew what it felt like to lose people, and was ready to give you whatever if that meant to ease your pain.
You neared your faces and he ran his thumb over the end of your nose, down to your lips as cupping your cheek with his palm. Tommy’s head was slightly tilted to the side, his only purpose being to reach your soul with either his touch or his soul hidden behind his iris.
You leaned your head into his touch and closed your eyes for a second, enjoying that moment between the two of you as the breeze made its way to your neck under your mane.
Now, nearly five weeks later, all Birmingham was only speaking of the Shelby family as the people making “the good priced good gin” according to what you heard in the streets. From the fancy restaurant to the underground pubs, everyone in town had tasted of that oh so liked liquor.
Tommy first heard how good the gin was by his brother Arthur. He, who liked to get drunk all day long and all night long, was always keeping a bottle of it in his car or even on himself.
Then it was Ada, always offering him a drink of it whenever he would visit her.
(...)
It was 4 in the afternoon when Tommy walked through Charlie’s yard to join the Gin factory, when opening the door he was surprised to see you, seated at the old dusty desk filling paper and sipping on several cups.
Your husband frowned, “Y/N?”. He didn’t know if he should be worried or glad to see you working in such a place while drinking a lot knowing you’re not even a drinker in the first place.
You lifted your gaze to him and a huge smile instantly warmed up the atmosphere in the space, “Tommy!” You exclaimed as you got up. Being a bit dizzy you were strongly holding onto the table while getting up but you wanted to join him, and that’s when Tommy noticed your reddened cheek and little eyes.
“You’re drunk,” he stated, concerned. His expression shifted. He seemed a bit worried as he took one of your wrists to help you walk correctly.
You waved your free hand before you as to blow away his remark, “I was trying a new mixture for the Gin.” You informed him. You slid a hand into his rough one and stepped backwards, to the desk. “Here, choose one and tell me.” You proudly pointed to each of the cups. “This one on the left is spicy, the middle one a little too sweet for the Americans, this one to the right is the version that is out, and the last one is a bit strong. If the sadness hit too much.”
“The sadness?” Tommy asked while grabbing the third cup, being the gin that was already out. He was quite startled by how implicated his wife seemed to be, he didn’t actually think she would invest that much time and energy in this activity, but he was relieved she found a reason to get up every morning other than their beautiful family.
He knew how living a life without having or serving a purpose was meaningless and boring, even more, when being saddened by something you can’t control such as the death of a loved one.
The Shelby brother will sleep better now, knowing his other half found purpose somewhere, even if seeing her drunk was a sight he could never get used to…
At this moment, he felt the need to feel her skin under his touch before doing anything else, and that’s what he did, putting his hand at the end of her back, he pulled her closer, his thumb rubbing her skin over the fabric of her dress.
Tommy then drank from the cup and took his time judging the taste of it.
He opened his eyes and dropped the cup on the desk before turning to his wife, she was looking at him, impatience spreading all over her face. She seemed ready to hear Tommy’s opinion on her Gin... On their gin.
The blue-eyed man grabbed her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to Y/N’s. She closed her eyes a couple of seconds before opening them to a staring Tommy. He was fondling her cheeks with his thumbs before exhaling deeply, “I now understand why everyone’s talking about us, Shelbys, being fucking genius’, eh” He got distracted by her lips.
“This,” he pointed to the bottle standing at the corner of the table, and, once again, Tommy got distracted, he noticed words were present on the bottle down the name. “Distilled for the eradication of incurable sadness.” He read out loud.
A faint smile was found on his face before he agitated the bottle in his hand. He was proud.
He put down the bottle and directly sealed his lips to Y/N’s, the calling for love being too loud to resist.
That was exactly why it was her and no one else, she was always unpredictable and versatile. Who would have thought his bibliophile wife could be a real gem in the making of gin?
She put away, gasping for air before looking him in the eyes, “What? Did I never tell you the fact that my grandpa was making alcohol?” She teased his lips by speaking inches away from them, “I know one or two tricks. That’s why it’s selling well.” She concluded before pressing their lips together eagerly.
“This is a big bank, yea” He succeeded at saying in between two kisses.
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beaststhattalk · 2 years
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You Gave Me Reason
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3,132 words | Post-The Last Battle | Find content warnings on ao3
Professor Digory Kirke had a short will. He had no children, no siblings, and was his parents’ only child. He’d had an aunt and an uncle, neither of whom spread the branches of their family tree. That is how Susan Pevensie finds herself with stacks of old books on God and history and art. They’d been meant to go to Peter, which spared them from the museum donations and auctions that swallowed up the rest of the contents of that mysterious house.
The funeral was a year ago. And what a funeral it was: so many guests. The young Scrubb and five Pevensies were all bid goodbye and buried in the same ceremony. Susan had agreed on it with her aunt and uncle. None of them wanted to drag things out with one funeral after another, especially when most of the attendees would be the same. It would’ve begun to get difficult in terms of preserving the bodies, as well, and Susan refused to let that become something she had to consider.
The priest had asked Susan if she’d like to speak. For each person, she spoke as truthfully as she could.
Six is too many, Susan thought, to waste time recounting happy memories. More than that, she was not inclined to wring her hands over which smiles to include—which hugs mattered, which inside jokes represented them all best. How was she supposed to take a family and whittle it down to a single moment? Who could sum up a life in a handful of stories?
Nor was Susan eager to weed through the memories she and her siblings argued about to find the ones they might agree on. It’s my chance to get the last word in, she’d thought one night, eating bread in the dark on the kitchen floor (she couldn’t bring herself to eat all day, and the hunger pangs sent her stumbling out of bed). Susan wanted her siblings’ side of things to be what people remembered. Since she didn’t understand their side of things, it was best to leave memories out entirely.
Instead, Susan stuck to what she was certain of. Things that everyone in attendance—her aunts, uncles, and grandparents; Peter’s, Edmund’s, Lucy’s, and Eustace’s school friends; her parents’ work friends; Father’s war friends—ought to know:
Lucy was a kind and hopeful girl who never let anyone suffer alone.
Edmund was clever as a whip and wise beyond his years.
Peter was studious and responsible and would’ve done so much with the years ahead of him. Whatever he would’ve accomplished, though, he deserves the credit for bringing three children through a war.
Mother loved people so dearly that she still had tea with friends she’d made when she was only three years old. And she loved her children well enough to send them away when, more than ever, she wanted them close to her.
Father built toys for his children, homes for families in England and America, and risked his life for all the people in the world during the war. If any of Susan’s siblings put others before themselves, it was because their father taught them how.
Susan only saw Eustace in visits every few years, and every time she saw him, he was taller, and smarter, and wiser than his old self. No one will ever be able to say what a wonderful man he would’ve become, given the time.
These were the words she scrawled in her journal a week before the funeral. After hours of crying, each blink felt like scraping gritty, dried mud off of one’s skin. It hurt like hell to swallow. However, she’d dried her face with rough hands, sat at her desk, and written one word after the other like climbing a hill. Over the following days, Susan did what she could to be more sentimental, more eloquent, more fair. She finished Edmund and Lucy’s last. She couldn’t even bear to say their names aloud, those first few days.
A year later, it is dreadful still. But in a quieter, duller way. The days are gray and slow. The sun feels either cold or loathsomely humid. Every Friday at 3pm, if not more often, Susan goes out with friends. They don’t ask about her life. Susan suspects that they are nervous to get a sad answer and turn the whole moment awkward. She thinks this is the best course of action for everyone. She sits with them at cafes, listening to them talk about their schoolwork and boyfriends and summer plans (none of which Susan has anymore). She asks questions and makes comments and teases them, as she’s always done. These visits go as they always have. Susan doesn’t laugh as often or as brightly as she used to, to be sure, but it’s the best remnant she has of a normal life.
When they all say goodbye, Susan’s four friends head off in separate directions, their sheets of silky hair bouncing as they walk away. Susan usually walks home feeling empty and cold. However, the days don’t bleed together quite so much, afterwards.
Her school offered her a year off, and with aunt Alberta’s firm support, Susan accepted. On the days she leaves the house, whether to do shopping for Eustace’s parents (who have taken her in) or to go to town with her friends, Susan dresses well. She puts on lipstick, curls her hair, and meticulously chooses shoes and nylons and clothes. She does it solemnly, always with the sharp light of dawn. More often than not she is observed by a cup of tea growing cold on the vanity. Making the tea is essential: another pattern for her body to learn and inhabit. Pouring whatever is left in the bushes below her window seems only appropriate. Susan feels that every morning, with everything she does, something is forsaken—put down, given to the earth, forgotten. Only after this is done can she walk out of the house, silently announcing to the gray sky or humid sun that her life still has somewhere left to go.
The Scrubbs go to church every Sunday. They go on Saturday and Friday evenings, too, when they have the time. They have become quite close with the priest—Alberta knows his sister by first name. Susan tried for a month or two, but gave it up. Sitting in a pew and hearing songs about beauty only served to agitate her.
Once, fairly early on in the big picture of things, the priest invited Susan for a walk. She accepted. She hadn’t yet heard anything from her friends except for condolences, and was ready to speak to anyone about anything.
They walked from the city into a park, where flowers were crawling with bees and flocks of birds turned bushes into chimes. The priest talked to her about peace and heaven. Susan politely agreed. He asked her, quite knowingly, if she believed a word he said. She responded that they were beautiful words, and she admired him for coming up with them. She admitted that that’s how she saw all the holy books, too: beautiful words, written with great skill and imagination. The priest agreed with her. He urged her, though, to consider them with an open mind. If she indulged the chance of their reality, they might speak to her more than she imagined they could.
So, Susan spent a lot of time—all those days that she didn’t put on her lipstick or her nylons or curl her hair—sipping tea and reading. Her uncle joined her on the weekends. They sat in silence, Susan with a bible or one of the Professor’s old books, her uncle with a newspaper. He always used his big chair near the window, but Susan moved about: sometimes the couch, sometimes the dining room, sometimes the small tea table by the window to the backyard. After all, this house was not quite home to her, yet.
Whether or not her uncle was home, reading was when Susan felt as if she were really speaking to someone. She never spoke truthfully to her friends or neighbors. She was rarely honest with her aunt and uncle. And, even then, it didn’t seem to strike anything true. Susan would tell them what was on her mind, yes. But all the meaning seemed to die as her thoughts left her mouth in the shape of chosen words.
Indeed, for the past few years, she didn’t feel like she’d even been speaking to her family.
Mother and father thought her interest in clothes and makeup was silly. Father insisted—always as if he were dealing with a fool and not his oldest daughter—that Susan was pretty enough without red coloring on her lips and cheeks. Peter and Edmund teased her, as Susan figured any boys would tease their sister, but it seemed to be more than just that. Really, it was the time they didn’t spend teasing Susan that troubled her. If she counted the hours, her siblings spoke in pairs or in a group so often that Susan barely factored into their lives at all. Even when she was in the room, they talked about fairy tales and childhood games with great seriousness, all without a glance at Susan. Eustace, surprisingly, seemed to be a part of it when he visited. Even without the particular silliness of fantasies, none of them seemed all that interested in practical matters. Peter and Edmund spent hours on end debating the fine details of philosophical texts. Whenever Susan tried to spark up a conversation about the goings on of Europe or Parliament, or even the local farms, her brothers looked at her with solemn eyes. As if they were sad she cared about things that had a tangible place in their lives.
Edmund was more blunt than Peter.
“Can we not spend all day talking about this?” Edmund complained one afternoon at their aunt and uncle’s. Susan and Eustace had been discussing an article about advancements in radio technology.
“I guess you’d rather talk about useful things, Ed,” Susan replied, “like how best to polish a unicorn’s horn.”
Edmund rolled his eyes. Then, Susan could’ve sworn he muttered: As if a unicorn can’t polish its own horn.
Lucy was not nearly so rude about it all, but Susan had felt furthest from her. Lucy spent nearly all her time outside of school at church or on walking paths. Susan could at least join in with Peter and Ed in discussing those old authors they loved, though she preferred to focus on how the writers’ real lives shone through their texts. Lucy, though, was beyond Susan’s reach.
They took a walk together at the beginning of summer, just a month before the accident. The two had been having a simple, meaningless chat about Lucy’s upcoming visit to the Professor's when Lucy spotted a rabbit at the edge of the path. Susan had hummed in acknowledgement, but Lucy stopped dead in her tracks. They spent minutes standing there, watching the rabbit nibble the grass. With each small shuffle of its paws Lucy had gasped with wonder.
After one of many moments of silence, Susan commented: “He must be used to humans. That’s the trouble with towns growing out into the wilderness, I suppose.”
Lucy had nodded, not taking her eyes away from the little animal. “It is, it really is. I wonder how it all shall end up.”
Finally, Lucy seemed to have had enough, and the sisters kept walking. “Goodbye, little fellow,” Lucy had whispered excitedly to the rabbit, and—this was what Susan found quite unbearably silly—waved at it as they passed by.
“Hmm,” Lucy had smiled when she at last looked away from the creature. “I hope he has a good life ahead of him, whatever it is he will do.”
The only thing Susan had genuinely thought when she saw the creature was, Oh, it’s only a rabbit.
So, Susan reads. She doesn’t enjoy the Professor’s books, but she is determined to understand. She will find out what it was that Edmund and Peter loved to talk about, what Lucy was thinking about when she gazed star-struck at the creatures of ordinary life. Susan reads the bible, and the annotations at the bottoms of the pages, and the difficult, stuffy translations of Plotinus and Boethius and Aquinas. She does what the priest told her and looks past the lack of scientific basis, the lack of practical knowledge. She opens her heart to the idea that Goodness is a specific thing that exists and the human soul is something higher than the human body. Susan gets frustrated and angry at every turn. It feels quite as if she is in conversation with a man who won’t let her get a word in. But, at the very least, she is finally in on the conversation.
Susan sits at the tea table by the window to the backyard, a full cup of cold tea next to her, Augustine’s The Confessions on the table before her. The window is at the end of a hallway on the second floor. On her left, bedroom doors interrupt the vine patterns on the wallpaper. The staircase, marking the other end of the hallway, lets in light from the living room below. Susan has a pen in one hand. The margins of the book are filled with her words, though not her opinions. The neat, black cursive contains her attempts to track down what this man meant. She knew a little more about this one going in, which helped her feel a lot less like a castaway at sea. Edmund had been quite fond of The Confessions.
“It’s because he can’t do it alone,” her younger brother had said one afternoon.
Ed was sitting in a reading chair. Peter was opposite to him, lying down on their family’s green flower-print couch, his feet on Susan’s lap.
“His will is divided,” Edmund said. “His desire for God is there, and he’s used his reason to discover that God is the ultimate good. But he still has his bodily desires. He’s not strong enough to bring those two parts of his will together. That’s why reading the book is the moment that he is changed—God’s strength unites his will.”
Edmund was leaning forward, pinching his fingers together in the air while holding intense eye contact with his older brother. Susan had seen her maths teacher acting the same way when explaining calculus. Susan remembered sitting in that class, thinking, How can anyone care so much about equations?
But Peter sat up. He swung his legs onto the floor and pushed himself upright, as if he heard a jazz band playing outside and was just dying to run out and dance.
“Of course!” Peter exclaimed. “He needs His grace! Oh, right as always, Ed.”
Susan remembers the way her brothers had smiled at each other. Even then, that warmth between them—that pure understanding and closeness—left her feeling stranded and alone. Now, at the tea table in her aunt and uncle’s home, the loneliness moves from Susan’s throat to the center of her chest like a dark, heavy blade. As the sharp pain dissolves, windy coldness fills her stomach. Through the window, there is sunlight on the grass and birds in the trees. The Scrubbs’ cat is splayed out on the lawn. It all seems like a drawing in a children’s book. It’s stagnant and lifeless, even as the birds flutter and the cat twitches its tail. Susan can feel the heat through the glass, but it doesn’t feel like people say heat feels. It feels suffocating and sharp. Susan wishes she could revel in sunlight, but it just feels unpleasant, and all she can think about is whether or not she’ll get a sunburn.
She takes a deep breath, and sighs it out.
If You are really there, Susan speaks in her mind, then nothing is happening that You haven’t planned.
Susan’s hands are resting on the book. She realizes that she feels as if she’s not alone. Her aunt and uncle are both at work, but the pages, the tea table, the wooden floor, the walls with their vine-pattern…all of the history and theology, these centuries of certainty that Something is out there, seem to be with Susan at the end of the hallway. Whether or not it’s God, or simply the ideas of thousands of people that were so confident He exists, Susan feels she is being heard.
You made me exactly how I am. You made my life exactly how it is. If You really gave me a soul to desire Goodness with, You gave me reason to find it with, too. Well, this is where my reason has taken me: I wear nylons and lipsticks, Sir, and I don’t go to church, and I’m not interested in meeting a good Christian boy anytime soon. And if You really are so far above this bodily world, so much more than the human mind can comprehend, how can anyone be certain that this isn’t what You want of me?
Outside, the birds go on chirping. The cat goes on dozing. Susan looks at the wooden gate marking the garden, the white house beyond that. She looks up at that bright blue sky. Vast white clouds drift in from the southeast.
You gave me reason. And I’ll use it, no matter what they say You want me to do. I’ll use it even if You speak to me Yourself.
The hallway goes on being warm and quiet. Susan looks down at the table before her. She caps her pen, feeling she’s written all she will for a while.
After a moment, she reaches for her tea.
It’s cold. The string of the tea bag has dried and crusted up against the cup. Susan leaves the bag in for far too long, these days. As she takes a sip, bitterness floods her mouth. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d become. She swallows again, then again and again, breathing deeply through her nose, the strong flavor soaking into her throat. When she sets the cup down, the empty hall rings with the quiet scraping of the china.
The tea, however it tasted, seemed to even-out something inside of Susan. The room doesn’t feel so unpleasantly hot. Susan looks outside again. The fluffy tip of the cat’s tail moves back and forth, casting a shadow on the grass. Its front paws twitch. Two birds hop up and down a branch of the nearby tree, eyeing the cat. Susan brushes a strand of hair off her forehead.
Perhaps, she thinks, I might enjoy sitting outside for a spell. Before those clouds block out the sun.
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seoulwhat · 3 years
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Cheaper By The Dozen (#11)
Summary: You own a flower shop, and every week for the past year, a handsome guy has come in to order a dozen roses to be sent to his girlfriend. One day, another man comes in to send a dozen flowers...to the same woman. Now you are left with a dilemma: tell the first customer or let him find out on his own. Pair: Mingyu x reader Genre: slight angst, fluff Warnings: cheating Word Count: 2.8k
Every week, the same handsome and tanned skinned man walks in and asks for the same dozen roses to be sent out. You assumed they were for his girlfriend. He never had a wedding ring on, but you didn't ever really like to assume because not everyone wears wedding rings these days.
"Hi again," he smiled at you with his pearly white teeth. "Can I have the dozen pink and red roses sent to the newspaper company down the street? And make it to Lee Mina, please."
You rang him up on the register and told him his total. This has become a routine, and although the two of you had seen each other every week for the past year, neither of you felt comfortable enough to ask each other's names. It had to be obvious what your name was though. The shop is literally named after you. However, he on the other hand, remained unnamed and you didn't plan on asking what his name is anytime soon.
He left the shop, striding out the door with happiness in each step. You approached your refrigerated roses and brought them out. You took out the black wrapping paper as well as a light pink ribbon and wrapped both around the flowers. You set them up nicely so that when the receiver gets them, she can see every single flower. With that done, you gave them to your delivery man and off he went.
Your greatest pride in your flower shop is seeing the same customers come and put in orders. Just the fact that they love your flowers enough to order them more than once made you happy and made you feel successful. Your parents hated the idea of you becoming a florist because "how will you become wealthy?" The whole point in finding a career is to work happily. If you became the CEO heir of the stock company your dad owned, you would've been brought into a world that is nothing but greed and lying. It was not something you were interested in. They were also worried that you wouldn't find a great suitor, but that is also something you aren't interested in. Love should be unexpected, not forced by greed.
As expected, when a week passed by, the same handsome man walked in, ordered the same flowers to the same woman at the same company, and then left. As you made the last knot in the ribbon around the roses, the stores' door dinged, alarming you that someone just walked in. As you approached your register, an unfamiliar face looked up at you.
"Hello, how can I help you?" You asked the man who looked a little confused.
"Hey," he said unsure. "I wanted to get your dozen flowers deal. They're $20, right?" he asked with a smile.
You sent a smile back. "Yes. Our dozen flowers deal comes with a dozen of your choice of flower, along with black floral paper wrapped around it as well as a pink ribbon to top it off. We also hand deliver these for an extra $1 if it's local."
The man clasped his hands together. "That is perfect! I would like to place an order then for sunflowers."
With that, you rang the man up and asked for his information since he was a new customer.
"The name that I want them sent to is Lee Mina and she works at the newspaper company down the street."
You instantly froze and looked up at the man. "I didn't know we had more than one newspaper company locally," you nervously laughed.
The man furrowed his brows. "I don't think we do. Is there a problem?"
You shook your head. There's no way it's the same woman. Just focus on doing your job!
"Now, this is the newspaper company on 1st street, correct?" You had to check to see if it's the same one.
"Yeah, the one by the park," the man pointed in the direction.
Your eyes slightly widened, thinking about the man that had been coming to your shop for the past year sending flowers to the same woman.
"Okay then," you started. "She will love these flowers!" you said nervously.
The man smiled. "Thank you. If she likes them, I'll be coming back more often!"
With that, the man left. You quickly wrapped up the second batch of the dozen flowers for the same woman. It kept running through your mind that this woman is playing both men. They are obviously sweet men who are very thoughtful towards her. If only they both knew. What would happen if you told the first man? Should you tell the first man or just leave it? After all, it isn't any of your business.
You handed both flower bundles to your delivery man. "Hey, can you do me a favor? It is none of my business, but can you check to make sure that there is no other Lee Mina at the newspaper company when you deliver these? I want to make sure they get to the right person."
When your delivery man came back, he said that there was only one Lee Mina and those around her were excited for her as she got two deliveries of a dozen flowers.
Just wait it out and see what happens, you thought to yourself. There is no reason why you should tell either man anything.
Weeks had passed and the same two men continued to come into your shop ordering the same dozen flowers for the same woman at the same company. You were fascinated that they would come in on the same day, just 20 minutes apart. You had hoped with all your heart that they would come in and hear the other ordering flowers for the same woman, but of course, nothing is that coincidental.
"I'll take the usual," the man said. "But instead, do you think you can put my name on a card on put it in the flowers?"
You looked up at the man in confusion. "We are adding something different after a year of the same order?"
The man nervously laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, apparently she doesn't know who has been sending her flowers these days. Like, who else, other than me, would send her flowers? I've been sending her the same ones for a year." He shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
"Okay," you said feeling sympathetic. "Just tell me your name and I'll out it on the card."
The man nodded. "My name is Mingyu."
"M-I-N-G-Y-U. That's correct, right?"
"Yeah. Can you add something like I care for you so much or something like that?"
You nodded. "Sure thing. Is there anything else you would like to add?"
Mingyu, looked around the shop. "Do you happen to hold any chocolates here?"
You nodded. "Yes, we have heart shaped chocolates, as well as white chocolate and chocolate with nuts. We also have different chocolate packaging that range from the shape of a heart to square, circle, and infinity shaped."
"Which do you think is better?" Mingyu asked in desperation.
"Well, I think it depends on the situation. Since this will be like your normal delivery, I would say go with the round box."
"What if it wasn't a normal delivery? Like what if I feel like she's falling out of love with me?" Those words instantly made you look up at the man. He didn't have the normal shining smile on his face like he normally did. He was scruffy and he looked tired. It had only been a week since you last saw him, yet it seems like the past seven days have been a long time in hell.
"Well then I would say go with the heart if you believe it will help."
The man leaned on the counter with his head down. He sighed and didn't look up. "Sir, are you okay?"
He shook his head in reply. He looked up at you and tears formed at the bottom rim of his eyes. "I don't know what to do."
"Do you want my advice?" You offered. Although the most you knew about this man was his name, and that was something you just found out, you felt like it was your duty to help him out.
"As a woman myself, flowers and chocolates aren't going to solve anything. However, if she is falling out of love with you, it has absolutely nothing to do with you and more about her. If you had been doing the same lovely routine for the past year, which I commend you for, then I truly believe that she must change, not you." You patted him on the back, and he stood up straight. He sniffled and nodded in agreement with your words.
The door dinged and the both of you turned in the direction of the new customer. Your eyes widened, not wanting this right now. You had hoped dearly that this day would come, but now that it has come, you don't want it.
"Can I get the same order to Lee Mina?" The man asked with a smile from the door.
You bit your lip in shock as the man said the woman's name out loud. Mingyu slowly walked away from the counter and towards the man. "Did you just say Lee Mina?"
The man took a step back and his smile faded from his face. "Yes, why?"
"The one that works at the newspaper company?" Mingyu continued to question the man. In response, the man nodded and gulped.
"On 1st street," the man told Mingyu.
Mingyu turned around and faced you. "Did you know about this?"
You stood there, quiet. Not telling him could anger him but also telling him either a lie or the truth can still anger him. All you could do was shake your head in confusion and shrug your shoulders.
"You knew about this, didn't you?" Mingyu asked rhetorically. "And you? How long had you been sending flowers to Mina?"
The man looked at Mingyu. For about three months now."
Mingyu looked back at you, tears falling from his eyes. He let out a loud laugh that made you jump. "All this time, I could've known if you told me, but I have been coming in here looking like a fool to you. Clearly you don't care about your customers as much as you would like to lead on. All you care about is money."
With that, Mingyu left the store and the other man followed right after him.
::
Months had passed by, and you hadn't seen either man return. You don't blame them. Considering that Mingyu blamed you for him not knowing about his girl cheating on him, there's no way you would ever see either of them again. You were thankful the other man never returned. You knew deep down that he most likely blamed you for not telling him as well.
It slightly angered you though. Here you are, working at a place called Y/N Florals, yet they come in here thinking you're some type of best friend that should be telling them when you think someone is cheating on them. This has happened in the past, only the men that were cheated on didn't blame you for them not knowing. All you do is provide the flowers. The people it gets sent to is none of your business. This is a sign you would have to make to put up in the future in the store.
You were arranging your flowers by color when a customer walked in.
"Hello, welcome to Y/N Florals." You turned around to look at the customer.
"Hi," he said nervously with a small smile.
"Oh? Mingyu, I never thought I would see you again." You did not welcome him with a smile, although it was very unprofessional on your end.
"Yeah, I thought so as well. I came to order some flowers."
You nodded your head. As badly as you wanted to know what happened, it was none of your business. "What would you like to order?"
"I'm doing something different. What kind of flowers do you like? I'll take your advice."
"I like bright yellow sunflowers with red roses. I feel like their colors really compliment each other."
Mingyu smiled. "That's a good idea. I'll take a dozen mixed as well as a heart shaped box of chocolates."
You nodded your head as you wrote down his order. "What chocolates would you like?"
Mingyu looked up in thought. "Well, what kind do you like?"
"Is this for a new girl? Because we might not like the same things." You told him.
"I don't really know what she likes so I just need some type of foundation to build off of," Mingyu replied.
"Okay, well I like milk chocolates. Do you want those?" Mingyu nodded in response.
"Can you also add a card? I want it to say 'I am sorry. Can we start over?'"
You nodded. "Okay. So, you want a dozen flowers of sunflowers and roses mixed, a box of milk chocolates in a heart shaped box, and a card. Will this be delivered or are you take them yourself?"
"I'll be taking them myself," he said. You rang him up on the register and once he paid, you went to the back room to get his flowers ready. You came back out with is flower order, got the chocolates from the fridge, and wrote on the card. After ten minutes, his order was ready.
"Okay, everything is set," you told him. With a large smile, he approached the counter and grabbed the flowers and chocolates.
"Thank you for everything," he said smiling. He then walked right out of the shop. As you were cleaning up the counter, Mingyu walked back inside the shop.
"Did you want something else?" You asked. He didn't answer and instead approached the counter and put the flowers and chocolates in your direction. You looked down at the flowers and scanned them for any issues.
"What? You don't like them? I do full refunds if you aren't happy."
He didn't speak but continued to stare at you with a huge smile trying to hand you the flowers. In confusion, you stared at him.
Mingyu rolled his eyes and laughed. "Do you not know how to receive flowers?"
"Huh?" you said a little too loud. "You're giving these to me?"
Mingyu nodded and you slowly took the gifts from his hands, unsure if this was a joke or not. "Why are you giving these to me."
"Well, did you read the note on the card?" Mingyu asked you. You quickly thought about the words you wrote on the card for him.
I am sorry. Can we start over?
"What are you sorry for?" You asked him.
"I was such a jerk when I found out Mina was cheating on me and instead of taking my anger out on the right person, I exerted my anger onto you as well as the other guy. Which was wrong of me. I spent so much time contemplating on whether I should apologize to you or just to never come back but it has been bugging me ever since that day because you never did anything wrong. You were always so kind to me and always had the best customer service and I came to like you. I would really like to get to know you better if you allow me to." Mingyu looked down at his fingers and twiddled his thumbs together.
"Okay," you said simply.
He looked up at you wide eyed. "Okay? You're going to give me a chance?"
You shrugged your shoulders and smelled your flowers. "Sure, why not."
Mingyu laughed. "Is it really that easy?"
Your laughed followed his. "No, I'm just making it easy. Do you want me to make it hard?"
Mingyu quickly shook his head. "No thank you. So I'll pick you up later for a date?"
You smiled at him. "Okay. I get out at 6." Mingyu nodded his head and left with a smile across his face.
Along with him, you had a smile on your face that was now hurting your cheeks. As you continued to smell your roses, Mingyu walked back in.
"Wait, what restaurant do you like?"
156 notes · View notes
delu-jean · 3 years
Note
hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!
𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚)
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(Erwin x fem!/reader) -> Mentions of Historia! -> Fluff -> 1.6k 
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Request: hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!
Notes: After the interaction the two had (somewhere in season three), I literally head cannoned him being her father! The chemistry between the two would be so sweet if they were!! The concept for this request was so adorable!! Thanks for the request, and enjoy! ^^
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“We did it...we have the colossal now,” you’d say, knees shaking after all of the casualties. Erwin then caught you. Seeing how shocked you were, he tried to calm you down the best he could. 
“Yes Y/n...we did...but at a great cost.”
“Was it really one worth all of this trouble?” You said being unsure with such a loss. 
“Of course it was. For the sake of humanity.” 
“Right...for the sake of Humanity.” 
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---
Many had died during the mission to Shiganshina. A lot of your comrades lost, along with your dearest friends. You mourned over such a thing, but ultimately, were glad for the ones who had survived. Levi, Hange, your dearest and most closest friends, still breathing as you spoke. And Erwin, your lover for gosh knows how long. Even after the stunt that was pulled, he still managed to survive. You were relieved that such a chaotic man...had escaped such a brutal mess. 
You were also glad that he saw what he had eagerly wanted to see. The basement that Eren had the key to. After hearing about some vague details from the commander, along with the other four who had entered, it gave you a mix of emotions. Both ecstatic to know there was more out there, yet terrified that such things were most likely forgein obstacles. Ones that would be hard to get rid of. 
Regardless, you were now heading back. Delivering both the books, along with yourselves, and whatever else you had left. At the entrance of wall Sina, there you see Historia waiting. She seemed ecstatic yet composed when greeting you all. And when seeing both you and Erwin, she seemed even more pleased. 
You see, even though Historia had her own birth parents, they never felt like her actual ones (based on the tragedies they caused). She’d been neglected...never feeling like she had someone to look up to. But when entering the Survey Corps, though it took a while to warm up to you, she ultimately did. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk to you, rather, it took some time for her to see you as a mother figure. 
You were maybe 15 years older than her, but even that being the case, you saw her as your own. Though she wasn’t calling you “mom,” nor were you calling her “your daughter,” you both had the relationship. Labels weren’t needed to understand such a thing. 
Since she grew up without the affection of her mom, she took your affection very seriously. She was thankful to say the least. Thankful for the nights you would console her, give her advice, and hear her out. Though Ymir had done the same, the difference was that you spoke the words of a mother. Erwin had also come around to this concept, and tried getting to know Historia on a more personal level. 
He saw how attached you were to such an extraordinary girl. That being the case, he too wanted to experience the joy you two shared. You of course encouraged such a thing, and therefore, he did his best when getting to know her. It was a good practice for him since for most (if not all of ) his soldiers, he considered them pawns. So that being the case, you took this as an opportunity for him to think otherwise. 
Another reason as to why Erwin was doing this, was because of his own personal experience. Though he did have his father, he was (eventually) taken away from him at a young age. He didn’t want Historia to go astray like he did in his teenage years. So, he tried building a connection. Hoping his input could help her in the best way. 
Though it wasn’t as easy going compared to the both of you, he did his best, and she appreciated the effort put in. He’d usually have conversations with her about life. The most simple, yet complicated philosophy out there. Maybe he would even pop in his childhood memories, and theories he had. Truly making the most of their time. And she enjoyed their interactions. You adored how close the two were. Though one was more tense than the other, the affection was clearly there. Just seeing them together, made you wonder as to how Erwin would be with his own children. Possibly yours if we’re being specific. 
Erwin then approached the girl on his steed. Bowing to the queen to be, along with the rest of you. 
“Princess Historia, we made many discoveries during our mission. Ones that we can discuss privately whenever it is to your liking,” Erwin said, composed with a respectful tone. 
“Of course Commander. Before we do, I think you could all rest. It’ll be best if you do, after all...it seems as if you could use it,” she took note of the lack of numbers, but decided not to bring it up. 
“Of course,” Erwin agreed and everyone left. Well...except the both of you. Hirstoria then invited you both into the castle. The three of you sat in a room, the two of you on one couch, while she sat on the other. Face to face as she took a sip of tea. 
“Forget about formalities, I’m glad you’re both alive,” she smiled and you did the same. 
“I don’t think it’s appropriate if we do...after all, you will be the Queen soon.” 
“Nonsense. Even when that does happen, nothing will change between the three of us.” 
“I guess not,” Erwin chuckled as she sighed in relief. 
“Now that that’s over with, let’s discuss the details over your findings.” 
“Sounds good, Queen Historia.” 
“Oh stop it Y/n,” she pestered as you giggled. 
“So, Historia…”
Erwin then went on about their findings. How there was an entire civilization across from them, how you all were subjects of Ymir, about the nine titans, and whatever else they had left to say. He seemed stern during his conversation, not only that, but you could sound the passion which rang through his words. He looked somewhat relieved that he saw such an extraordinary finding. Not only was it one step closer to saving humanity, but one step closer to fulfilling both his wants, and needs. 
You didn’t know what you would have done if he hadn’t made it out alive. The guilt of him not being able to see such a sight, nor Historia...would’ve crushed you if anything. You know that the both of you would have missed him dearly...and if anything, she would have felt responsible for his death. Something that was never predicted, yet under the control of the Scout regiment. A power that she had ruled over. 
Though this thought lingered, it was one that had not come true. And hopefully, things would stay that way. He was here with you. Safe and sound. Maybe a little bruised but hey, handsome either way. You then put your head on his shoulder, caressing his thumb. Though he tried keeping composure, he eventually gave in. Relaxing his body while in the warmth of your touch. 
“I see, interesting…” she nod to then say:
“Erwin, Y/n, you know how much I love the both of you. Because of that...when I do become queen...please don’t let our dynamic change. I find comfort in it, and hope that we can continue to have the relations set.” 
To your surprise, Erwin spoke first. His eyes soft, and his speech gentle. Staring at the young girl before him, who was now becoming an adult. 
“Of course. If that is what the Queen allows, I’ll be sure to do my part. For both humanity, but importantly, you Historia,” you then placed your own cup down, accompanying Erwin: 
“I agree. Of course, our manners will have to prosper when needed...but if we’re alone, or even if we’re not, feel free to come to either of us. We’ll care for you no matter what, okay?” she teared up a bit and then walked to the both of you. You both stood up, and grasped her. The mood felt both joyful, yet teary. 
“I’m glad you both made it. Please be careful out there,” Erwin, though reluctant, then placed a hand (A/n: the only one-) on her head. 
“Don’t worry, you can count on us, your majesty.” 
‘Ah my little girl...so grown and mature,’ she tightened her grip on your torso, as your arms were still wrapped around her.
“Yes...don’t worry. You can most definitely count on us.” 
---
As time progressed Historia got crowned. That being the case, she had more responsibilities on hand. Constantly working her hardest to help her people. You were glad to see such a young person blossom into such a strong woman. Though she did most things on her own, you and Erwin guided her when possible. Even when it came to the little things like if her drapes should be red, or green. 
There would also be moments where it was just the three of you, or you two alone. Now that she was queen, her time was of value. So you tried to spend it in the wisest way possible. Talking about politics could wait, those were the times where you all could express things heart to heart. Being honest about how she felt, versus how things ran. Expressing her love for the people she rules, and even the deep thoughts that kept her up at night. 
Both Erwin and you did your best to guide her through these emotions. Wanting to teach her both politically, and most importantly, emotionally. Prepping her for the duties she would have as both Queen, and herself. Raising her to be the person she wanted to be, and supporting her to the utmost of your abilities. 
“I think I understand now, what we have to do against Marely. Though it is just one step, it’s one step closer to saving the people of Ymir.” 
“Yes, yes it is...Historia,” Erwin said as he held your hand. 
“It definitely is...Historia.” 
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Text
tis the damn season
pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader
warnings: none
a/n: this is the end and i’ll need therapy because dear god i hate it when any of my projects end. thank you so much for supporting it and reading. hope you enjoy xx
CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS 
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There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me but if it's all the same to you it's the same to me ...
There was a sea of people, suitcases rolling everywhere, people hugging their loved ones and there she was, straight out of the airplane holding her worn out, beat up suitcase with her name tag on it. It was a cold day, one of those that reminded her of being by the window with her mother doodling on the fogged glass as the snow laid on the green grass of her childhood home yet there was no snow, just cold. She knew to walk through the doors that led to the arrivals but she stood back, almost as if the cold froze her to her spot. Returning to her hometown meant looking at the road not taken before, the road she couldn’t have taken. Nevertheless, in the midst of chaos of people coming back home for the holidays, she ended up being almost dragged into the arrivals hall.
Immediately she spotted Wanda and Pietro dressed in thick winter coats and hats who were holding a sign with her name. She put on her best photographic smile, walking over to the twins who rushed over to hug her tightly, something she missed dearly when she was away. 
     - Finally! - the brown haired girl hugged her best friend tightly. - You can never leave me again for this long. 
     - It’s only for a few weeks, Wan. 
     - Let me savour it. - she loosened up the hug, handing Y/N’s bags to Pietro who just shrugged off and started walking to the car. - I have so much to tell you. Remember Elizabeth, the girl I copied off for Maths? Well, she got married but she had a baby like 5 months later which doesn’t adds up. 
     - Shotgun wedding. - Pietro added. - It was so tacky, absolutely awful. I fell asleep for at least five hours.
     - Very good gift bags though. I took an extra one for you. 
The three walked onto the cold town she thought she’d never have the change to return to. The moment she woke up from what she thought was certain death, her father and the chief of police were already telling her they had set up a witness protection program for her, all the way in Massachusetts. It was nice, she liked the weather, the warm fall colours during October but she didn’t felt at home. She had a new name, new story, in this one she didn’t even have her father not that in reality she ever did. She sat in the passenger seat of Wanda’s car, listening to all the news she seemed to have kept locked inside her mind for when she returned. Her mind as going haywire about what she wanted to know about, she wanted to know about Bucky.
She knew he couldn’t be happy if he had discovered it which she guessed by now he had. Several times her father had told her he’d employed several men to try and find her and had even told her to stay away until Christmas. Of course the only reason he wanted her around was so she could drive him from the bar after he drank his weight in beer but she couldn’t help but do it, she promised her mum she would take care of her dad no matter what happened. Yet, she still wanted to know about Bucky. She wanted to know if he hated her, if he had put a hit on her head. It kept her awake at night, every night, bugging her like a bad memory. 
      - Are you sure you wanna stay at your dad’s? You can stay with me and Vision.
     - Of course she doesn’t want to stay with you. What kind of name is Vision anyway? - Pietro rolled his eyes.
    - HIS PARENTS WERE HIPPIES. We’ve had this discussion. - Wanda playfully threw a empty water bottle at his brother. - Don’t you want to spend Christmas with someone who will actually be in the house during Christmas?
    - I promised my mother, Wan.
    - C’mon. If it’s because me and Vision will be there, there’s no problem. Remember Michael? He still wants to go out with you.
    - I don’t want to go out with him.
    - Yeah, Wanda. Y/N liked James Barnes. - Pietro muffled in a laugh, receiving a death glare from his sister. - What? It’s true. 
    - Y/N does not like someone who wants her dead. Don’t you remember when one of his friends was on campus and he had a gun? 
    - What? It’s just like Mr and Mrs Smith and for one, it’s something I’m interested in. Good for her. 
    - What about you, Pietro? Where’s your girlfriend? - Y/N smirked, crossing her arms as Wanda parked in front of Y/N’s childhood home.
    - Which one?
    - You’re a lost cause. - she opened the passenger’s door, going around to retrieve her suitcase.
    - Call me if you’re alone during Christmas or Christmas Eve. Vision and I will come and set up a dinner with you.
    - It won’t be necessary.
    - Just call me, okay?
    - Okay, Wan. I’ll see you tomorrow. 
The red head smiled before driving away. Y/N stood on the cobblestones of her sidewalk waving goodbye before it was time to go meet her father. Her relationship with him was at best strained. When they didn’t find the shipment they wanted, he subconsciously blamed her along with constantly talking about how Edward could’ve died but he was luckily alive with a limp. She wished he had more than a limp but saying anything against his ward was absurd and completely forbidden. She was almost sure he’d spend more time at the hospital with him than her.  Nevertheless, she was here and as she stepped into her porch, there were no Christmas lights, no garlands. 
Flashbacks invaded her mind of sitting on the wooden stairs as her mother wrapped every surface she could in garland, wrapping the lights around the columns while her dad worked overtime. The two would then sit on the stairs with cups of hot cocoa, Y/N always preferring white chocolate hot cocoa with pink marshmallows and watched the lights go up for the first time. Every year she expected there to be lights after her mum was gone but they never showed. One year she tried to put them up but she soon came to realise the lights that held whatever sweet memories an object could hold were lost and gone. Everything was gone. She didn’t know why she expect it to be here.
Her keys jiggled as she opened the door to her childhood home. It was always messy, dusty, her mother’s yellow coat still hanging on the coat hanger the day she returned from the hospital. The house was a snapshot of that day, never changing, her father didn’t allow her. She knew why, she always knew why, she just refused to say it, she refused to say whom her father believed was the cause of her mother’s death. She refused to say it because she knew who it was and it wasn’t who her father thought it was.
     - Dad? - she left her suitcase against the entry wall, walking further into her house and into the kitchen, liquor bottles on the floor near the chair were her father was sitting, still in his uniform, shirt tightened over his beer belly. - Hey dad, how are you?
    - Y/N, darling, can you get some some of the liquor from the cabinet?
    - Sure, dad. - she turned around, reaching into the cabinet, right at the end of it where she kept a bottle with water which tricked him all the time. - How’s the precinct?
    - I think you know. 
    - You shouldn’t make catching him your target. Your target should be to protect innocent civilians.
    - What would you know about it? You failed us. 
    - I’m sorry. - she looked down at her shoes. - You know ... I smell snow.
    - You can’t smell snow, Y/N. There’s no such thing. 
    - C’mon... - she held his hands in hers. - We can make some hot cocoa, like mum used to do.
    - Your mother would’ve been ashamed of you. - she shook his hands away from her, pointing his finger at her. - You caused another officer to get shot, you have no integrity. I shouldn’t have put you in the case.
    - I didn’t. - she took a step back. - I told you I didn’t and you don’t believe me. Barnes didn’t try to shot me and Edward stepped in, you saw the report, the bullets don’t match up. He tried to shot at Barnes.
    - He’s the most experienced shot I know, if he wanted to have gotten Barnes, he would’ve.
    - He would’ve if I hadn’t stepped in front of it. 
She turned around, tears watering her eyes and making her vision blurry as she walked further an further away. She kept walking, away from her house, away from her street until she was the furthest from it she could. The wind blasted her hair in different direction, freezing through her thin, useless jackets. She could smell it was going to snow, she could always smell it, the smell of freshly fallen and there she was, having forgotten her jacket. It was late into the night, no establishment was open and all she could wear were her boots against the slight frozen layer upon the cobblestones. She should feel hurt but she found herself in a numbness of state, the image of waking up in a hospital room all by herself much clear in her mind. She continued to walk until a purple light lit up her face.
She looked upwards, the title of the old establishment she used to work in blasted into purple light. Now, she was a rational being, a true believer of think before you act  but she was cold and seemingly no longer held fear of her own death. Life is ephemeral and if she was meant to die, if fate was a thing then let it be. She went through the bodyguards entering the club that despite being almost Christmas Eve was filled with people. 
Meanwhile James was leaning against one of his club’s walls, cigarette hanging from his lips. Filthy habit he knew, but he did it when he stressed. It soothed him, yet it seemed like all self destroying things soothed him. His eyes lingered against the empire he had built which now seemed so stupid. All material things and a few kills to remember him by when he died. He wondered if they would even remember or if when he breathe his last breathe, he’d be erased as quickly as he came to be. No one remembers what came in between and James did not create the business, he just perfected it. Nothing surprised this old dog anymore until tonight. He thought his brain was playing tricks on him as he saw her pass through the doors, hair covered in a knitted hat yet as quickly as he saw her enter, the quicker he saw her leave.
     - Steve, follow her. - he immediately told the blonde who was happily chatting with his newly wedded bride. - Tell me where she stops. You better not lose her out sight or you won’t have any children.
Y/N was fast out, the moment she felt the warmth of the club. She no longer knew what she was doing, much too lost in whatever pain mixed with unresolved feelings she had. Nevertheless, she was out, and immediately calling Wanda. She was out on a date but offered to stay at her house and that was enough. She needed to sleep, consider what she was doing here and then return to Massachusetts. She could get used to being Elizabeth, the orphan girl who went to Harvard. She could be Betty, she could be someone on paper. She just didn’t know how to be Y/N anymore. She had to go back.
Wanda’s new place wasn’t thankfully too far and per usual she hide the key behind her petunia vase. Inside it looked exactly like what she believed her best friend’s dream home looked like but she deserved it. She deserved Vision, she deserved all this happiness and she wished she could stay behind and watch it. 
She stripped out of her frosted clothes, walking into the bathroom to take a warm shower. “It’s no use dwelling on the past, sweetheart. It’s already gone.” her mother used to tell her and she guessed she was right, what use was it for her to wonder what if? There was no what if. She was a dead woman if he knew, but Y/N was already dead even if she didn’t. The last name ended with her, the genetic tree of her ancestors ended with her and she guessed it fit, destroyer of trees and blood. 
She felt the warm water drip down her body and onto the porcelain floor of the shower, the foam making the air smell like wild daisies on a summer afternoon. It felt warm, it felt nice, thoughtless, to be only the essence of life without the obligation of thought.  Just seeing, living, greatly dissolving into the fabric of nature. Stepping out of the shower, thought evaded. She was expecting to see him, to look at him one last time before she was gone. Yet again, what use was to look into someone who’d she betrayed? It was no use. 
She involved herself in the white fluffy towel, walking into the kitchen to rummage through whatever Wanda and Vision had. Wanda was always a fun of tropical fruit so she knew she probably kept something yummy for her.
    - You’ve always toyed with probability, petal. - she turned around once she head that voice, heart clenched yet beating faster at the same time. - It is very dangerous for you and for you friend. Easy lock, windows open. 
     - If you’re going to do it, please do it outside where we won’t stain my friend’s apartment. 
     - Oh petal ... - he took the gun from the holster which was always close to his legs. She had been shot before, she didn’t feel it, it didn’t hurt. She closed her eyes, waiting for the sound but the only sound that came was his gun hitting the floor. She opened her sides, watching as he slide the gun over to her, it reaching her feet. - I thought we were done with you being afraid of me. 
     - James ...
     - Bucky. - he corrected her, still standing on the opposite side of the room. She stood there motionless but he started walking up to her. - You think I want to kill you.
    - The worse thing I have ever did was what I did to you. Besides, Wanda saw one of your friends on campus with a gun.
    - We always carry guns, petal. The question is what have you done to me?
    - I’ve betrayed you.
    - Have you? Because I don’t remember my shipment being intercepted not that it would, I lied to you.
    - You lied to me?
    - I never doubted your ... your affections towards me but I did doubt your loyalty to your father. I was surprised. 
    - Were you?
    - No, I lied. What I was surprised about what that you took a bullet meant for me. What the fuck were you thinking? You could’ve died.
    - I don’t know.
    - You ran away from me. I wanted ... I ...
    - What did you want, Bucky? - she cocked her head to the side, examining him and whatever his thoughts were doing to him.
    - I wanted you. I wanted to have been by your side when you took a bullet for me, I wanted you in my bed, not in my bar I hate watching other men ogle you. I wanted you to marry me and carry my child. I wanted to give you everything I have and some more, all of what I have and all of what I don’t have. I wanted you, the captain’s daughter. I adored you. 
   - You don’t know me.
   - I know you. You’re a terrible liar, can’t lie to save your life. Your heart ... - he stepped closer and closer to her. - Is on your sleeve. You might not know who you are or you might forget it but when you do remember I control everything but you control me. 
   - Bucky ...
   - I just wanted to see you’re alive and well. I’ll leave and promise you’ll never see me again if you want. 
   - You didn’t ask me what I wanted.
   - What do you want, petal?
   - I want you to kiss me. 
   - I know where that ends, petal. - he smirked, hand searching for hers. - Very tempting of you to do those things to me. 
5 YEARS LATER
It was cold, the sort of cold Bucky had began to hate, the sort of cold he felt whenever she left early in the morning to go to work but it was the sort of cold which mixed with sweet memories. Nevertheless, there he was, at another meeting, hearing whatever bullshit excuses Rumlow had to give him. Steve had been the one to suggest taking his territory rather than just off him yet taking care of a damaged business with an even more damaged partner was doing his head in. He stood against the new furnished couches of the bar, drinking his scotch as he heard Rumlow ramble and ramble about how he had good ideas. He had ideas, just not good ones. An hour late he was leaving the godless establishment to return home. He walked home as he always did during winter, watching the newly put up Christmas lights in the streets. His apartment wasn’t too far, having sold his previous one once Y/N moved back to Massachuts to buy one near her and then selling it once she graduated to buy another one. It was close to the bar and she liked it that way, constantly begging him not to go during Christmas and stay with her but business was business. Entering his home, the electrical fireplace was on and his heavily pregnant wife was barefoot, walking side to side and jumping into her dress.
    - Stop jumping, you’ll fall and hurt yourself. - Bucky smirked, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her body. - And we all know you can’t get up when you fall. 
    - So funny. - she playfully slapped him on the chest. - It’s almost as if this wasn’t your fault. 
    - How’s our little boy?
    - How do you know it’s not a girl? - she smirked. - Nice try, Bucky but you’ll only know when the baby is born. 
    - You’re killing me here.
    - Come on, we have to go to the twin’s baby shower.
    - Explain to me again why did your friend decided to do a baby shower after the babies were born?
    - So that she would tell us what size clothes they are. - she gave him a soft kiss, leaning against him. - You won’t be your usual grumpy, scary self. You’ll be good to the other dads. 
    - What will I tell the other dads when they ask me what I do?
    - You’re a business man. - she straightened his suit’s lapel. - Isn’t that somewhat true?
    - You’re lucky I adore you.
    - Come on. 
Bucky found it hard mixing both of their lifestyles, but he did it for her. God, he had done so much for her and he only wanted to do more for her. If someone had told him he’d beg the police captain to go to his wedding just to make Y/N happy, he would’ve laughed, yet Y/N deserved it. His father had pretty much set her aside once it came to light she was hanging out with him and he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. He didn’t have many friends and those he had had completely relationships to the friends Y/N had, nevertheless he tried. He wanted to be the best husband and the best father he could possibly be. Bucky would lay sleepless every single night wondering how he’d do it. How would he go to profession day and tell kids about his job? He couldn’t or he’d traumatise them. Nevertheless, he worried. Y/N was going to be a great mum, the best mum even but him? He wasn’t so sure.
They reached Wanda’s place which was decorated with all sorts of baby blue decorations. 2 boys in one go. If Bucky suddenly had two kids, he would’ve had a heart attack. He barely knew he could be a good dad for one, imagine two.
    - Oh my god, you’re huge. - Wanda said as she opened the door. - How come it’s not out yet?
    - The baby’s stubborn like his father. 
    - More like his mother. - Wanda added. - Come see the twins.
There were two bassinets on the living room where Vision was frantically rocking them side to side, Pietro sat in the couch on his phone while most of the guests were still to arrive. Y/N looked over the bassinets, the two babies laying there wide awake which probably explained why Vision looked so overwhelmed. 
   - Why are they so big? - Y/N whispered to Bucky. - I can’t push something that big out of me. 
   - Well, think positive, at least you’re only pushing one out of you and not two. 
   - So that’s Billy and that’s Tommy. I think. - Wanda cocked her head to the side. - Well, Billy replies to his name and Tommy doesn’t.
    - Can I hold one? 
    - Sure. Bucky, do you wanna hold one? - Wanda asked and before he could reply, the redhead had already put a baby in his arms. James hadn’t held a baby, he didn’t know how to hold a baby yet there it was, a baby. - Aw, look at that Billy or Tommy likes you.
   - We’re still working on what colour we should dress one another so we know which one is which. - Vision added. - Pietro is still upset we didn’t name one Pietro.
   - Y/N you will name your baby Pietro if it’s a boy. 
   - Absolutely not. - she said as she cooed the baby in her arms. - They’re so beautiful. Congratulations. 
   - Yeah ... - Bucky handed back the baby to Wanda. - Do you think I can use your balcony?
   - Sure. 
Y/N furrowed her browns, putting the baby back in his crib before excusing herself. She gave Bucky some time before following him and there he was, leaned against the wall, cigarette hanging from the middle of his lips as his wild blue eyes observed the night sky. 
   - It’s a filthy habit. - she walked into the balcony. - What’s stressing you?
   - Nothing’s stressing me, petal.
  - You always smoke when you’re stressed so let it out. What’s wrong? Is it Rumlow?
  - Rumlow wishes he could stress me. 
  - Bucky.
  - You’re pregnant, petal. Like ... really, really pregnant.
  - We’ve established that. - she looked at her own bump. - You thought it was a food baby?
  - I don’t know, looking at Wanda’s kids ... we will have a baby in less than a month and I am going to be a father and I will screw it up. I’m not ready.
  - You’re stressed about being a dad? - she wrapped her arms around his neck, soft kind eyes looking at him. - Buck, everyone’s stressed with their first baby. You’re going to be a great dad.
  - I should get a new job.
  - Not this again.
  - Yes. I need to get a new job so the baby ...
  - Bucky, you don’t need a new job. - she interrupted him. - Your job won’t put the baby in danger because I won’t let it happen. I don’t know if you remember but I’m very good at deflecting bullets.
  - Deflecting? - he laughed. - You’re very good at catching them.
  - Either way, you’re going to be a great dad. Steve’s a great dad and he went parachuting without a parachute like an idiot. You take a parachute, at least.
  - I see your point.
  - James Barnes, in exactly five months you’re gonna be as good as a father as you could be. - she leaned against him, taking her opportunity to take the cigarette away from his mouth and tossing it out the balcony. Her eyes followed up to his face, intently on something. - What?
  - I smell snow.   
taglist: @lookiamtrying​ @mariamermaid​ @sebastianstansqueen​ @unmagically​ @buckybarnes1982​ @mela-noche​ @lowercasegenius​ @randomweirdooo​ @projectcampbell​ @sebbystanlover-vk​ @jevans2​ @hollarious​ @itsallyscorner​ @tcc-gizmachine​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @stuckysavedmylive​ @vicmc624​​ @sebstanfan123​​
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plaidbooks · 3 years
Note
Hey 🥰 could I request working with Sonny and you two used to date but broke up, you remained friends but never really got over each other and your end up going through a pretty bad time with work or personal stuff and you’re struggling mentally and not eating etc and when he realises he comes over to your place to check ur ok and you just breakdown and he tells u he still loves u and that it’ll always be u 🥺
Some Space
A/N: I am so sorry that this took so long! I was so burnt out of writing, but I'm here now! I hope that this makes up for the wait!
This takes place before Sonny joins SVU--and his timeline is a little wonky to make this fic work, but oh well.
Tags: death, shootings, blood, disassociation
Words: 2590
Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandplaid @reading--mermaid @dreamlover31 @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell
“So, do you wanna move in together?” Sonny asked while you cuddled on his couch. You turned to look at him, and his face fell as he saw your expression. “…you don’t?”
You sighed. “It’s not like I don’t love you, Sonny, because I do. It’s just…I mean, we’re still in our mid-20s. I want a little more, uh, freedom before I settle down, you know?”
“I’ve known since we started dating in high school that I was in for the long term. I was thinking of maybe…I don’t know, getting married…having kids…. Now that we’ve settled into patrol, I thought it would be the perfect time to take the next step,” he muttered.
You sat in silence, debating. You loved Sonny, and you did want to marry him…someday. Not right now. You’ve barely lived any of your life; hell, you lived at home still. Sonny had his own apartment, but you didn’t want to go from living with your parents to living with him. You wanted space, time to figure out who you really were. And you didn’t think you could do that with Sonny. If he couldn’t give you your independence, if you both wanted different things, then you were going to have to break up with him, as much as it would break your heart to do it.
“Listen, Sonny, I need to live my own life for a little bit, discover myself. I-it’s nothing wrong with you, I promise—”
“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked softly.
Hearing the words out loud made tears form in your eyes. “I…yes, I guess I am. At least until I find myself…. I’m so sorry, Sonny. I’ll always care about you. We can still be friends?”
“Y-yeah…okay, sure. I…yeah…” he trailed off, unwrapping his arms from around you. You both sat there awkwardly, and the tension was thick. You stood, moving to grab your jacket, and Sonny followed you to the front door.
“This isn’t…goodbye. I promise you, Sonny Carisi. It’s just—”
“See you later?” he finished.
You gave him a smile, and a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”
*****************************
That was months ago now, and you had transferred out of Staten Island patrol, unable to see Sonny every day, those big, sad blue eyes trying to avoid your gaze. Now, you worked for Brooklyn, an officer in their Homicide department. You settled in quickly, and you found a cheap-ish apartment in Brooklyn.
It was nice living by yourself, and you highly enjoyed it. You missed Sonny dearly, but you thought it was too soon to reach out. Your heart still strained when you thought about the breakup, so you kept your distance. But it was getting easier and easier to let those feelings fade away in your new line of work. Brooklyn Homicide was a lot busier than Staten patrol, and you got along great with your partner, Drew Zimmer.
“We keep making these busts, and we’re gonna make detective in no time,” Drew said, grinning at you.
You smiled back as you shoved a cuffed perp in the backseat of your squad car. “Then we get paid halfway decently for doing much of the same as we are now.”
“Plus, normal clothes! Not this suffocating police uniform.”
You agreed, then moved to the front seat, Drew sliding in behind the steering wheel. You and Drew were close, but you never crossed a line. He was engaged to his high school sweetheart, something that made you slightly sad. Sonny was your high school sweetheart, and you wondered how different your life would’ve been if you moved in with him.
*************************
As Drew predicted, you both made detective later that year. You were officially the youngest detective, having moved up the ranks so quickly. You both went out for drinks to celebrate, and you had the wild impulse to invite Sonny. It had been almost a year since you broke up, and you could finally think about it without tearing up. But would he be okay with it? You fought the idea, putting your phone back in your pocket.
“Everything okay?” Drew asked, seeing the look on your face.
You shot him a fake smile. “Fine, fine. Just…thinking. Don’t worry about it.”
He gave you a hard, knowing look, as if he could read your mind. You had told him about Sonny, but you didn’t want to bring the celebration down. Instead, you took your glass and cheers him before taking a sip.
You jumped when your phone rang, and you pulled it out of your pocket. Your Captain’s name flashed across the screen, and you answered with a brisk voice. Drew watched and listened, then sighed when you said that you were both on your way.
“What do we got?” he asked, putting money on the table and standing.
You pulled your jacket on, heading for the door. “Body found in Prospect Heights. You okay to drive?”
“Sober as a fox.”
*************************
You both showed up quickly, seeing the officers who called in the body. Drew parked, and you made your way over. One of the officers started walking you both through the details when a gunshot rang out from down the alley that the body was in. Instinct took over as you hid behind a wall of the building, grabbing the closest officer to you and pulling them with you. Gunshots echoed in the alleyway as someone—or someones—unloaded on the entrance to the alley.
Drew was on the other side of the alleyway, and one of the officers was flat on their back, blood leaking from a bullet hole in their head. You ordered the officer next to you to call for backup, then waited until the gunfire stopped. Taking a chance, you snuck a quick peak. There were three individuals at the end of the alley, making their way quickly towards you.
You motioned to Drew, letting him know, before you reached your hand around the corner, firing blindly in an attempt to at least slow their advance. With the cover fire, Drew came halfway around the wall, actually aiming his gun as he fired.
“You got one of them,” he informed you. He got a few shots off before a bullet went through his neck, knocking him off his feet.
“Drew!” you screamed before whipping around the wall, shooting with deadly precision. There was only one man still standing—Drew must’ve got one before going down—and you shot him quickly. Then you dropped to your knees by Drew’s rasping form. You ripped off your jacket, pressing it to the bloody wound.
“Stay with me Drew, do you hear me? You have a fiancée to go home to,” you ordered, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. “Call a bus!” you yelled at the officer, who was staring in shock.
Drew reached up, grabbing your wrist. “T-tell Steph I—I love her…please,” he gasped, voice weak.
“You’re going to tell her yourself when you see her, okay?” you said, trying to smile at him.
He shook his head. “Tell her…please. I-I—” Drew let out a death rattle before laying still.
“No! No! Live, damn you! You can’t die on me, Drew! W-we’re partners!” you screamed. But he was gone. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you leaned over him.
Time meant nothing as you knelt there. You had no idea when the ambulance arrived, nor when your Captain showed up. You’re not sure who moved you away from Drew’s lifeless body, and you didn’t notice how you ended up at the hospital. You were still covered in Drew’s blood as the nurses ran tests, making sure you were uninjured. Your Captain ordered you to take time off, and you didn’t hear him, didn’t argue. You blinked and you were home, sitting on your couch, a bottle of whiskey in front of you.
***************************
IAB had been delayed by your Captain, but eventually, you had to face them. You couldn’t recall what they asked, or what you answered. The first emotion you felt in days was fleeting anger; the body that you had been called to investigate was left as bait. The men who shot at you, who killed your partner and an officer, were part of a gang, attempting to become cop killers. It was all a ruse to kill whichever cops arrived on the scene. Drew, one of the nicest, most genuine people you’ve known, was killed for street cred. But your anger soon disappeared, just like everything else.
***************************
It had been a week since Drew died in your arms. You visited his fiancée—she had already been informed of her love’s death—but you had to see her, pass on his final words. You held her as she cried, but you had no tears left. You felt nothing; you were just a shell. You stopped eating, stopped showering, stopped drinking, even water. You stopped sleeping; you just passed out nowadays, at any and all times of the day, wherever you happened to be laying. Your Captain called you a few times, trying to get you into therapy, but you never left your apartment.
One night, there was a knock on your door. You moved on phantom feet, unlocking and pulling your door open. You felt a dull punch to the gut as Sonny stood on your doorstep.
“H-hey doll…. I heard about your partner, and I thought I’d check up on you,” he said softly.
You nodded, not even attempting to fake a smile. “I’m fine,” you said in a monotone voice, ready to close the door on him. But Sonny was quicker.
“No, you’re not.” And with that, he pushed into your home. “When was the last time you’ve eaten? Washed? Brushed your teeth? Anything?”
You had no answer for him, and he quickly went to your kitchen, pulling open your fridge. Normally, you’d follow him, but instead, you went and collapsed on your couch, your legs unable to hold you up anymore.
Sonny came out with a glass of water. “Drink that,” he ordered, then stood there until you did. “Most of your food has gone bad; I’m going to run to the store. While I’m gone, I want you to shower, okay?”
You didn’t nod, made no indication that you had heard him. He ran a hand through his hair, hating seeing you like this.
“Okay…if you can shower, please do. Otherwise, just at least…drink another glass of water, okay?” He took the glass from your hand, refilled it, then came back and handed it to you. “I’ll be right back.”
You were unsure for how long he was gone; you dimly heard him come back. Sonny went to your kitchen with full grocery bags, and soon, the sounds and smells of cooking emanated from within. He came out soon after—or maybe it was longer, who knows?—with a plate of food.
When he noticed the full glass of water in your hand still, he shook his head, then sat next to you. You didn’t fight him as he fed you small bites, nor as he raised the glass of water to your lips. You tasted nothing as you ate half the plate. Sonny was afraid to make you sick with too much food at once, so he put the rest back in the kitchen. Then, he pulled you to the bathroom. He undressed you, then himself, before guiding you into the shower. The hot water brought you partly to your senses, just enough to feel Sonny’s hands washing your hair and body.
“You may have to get your hair cut short—it’s pretty damaged from lack of care,” he muttered, trying to work the knots out with his fingers. You nodded gently, letting him care for you. Once done, he wrapped you in a towel, patting you dry. Then, he took your toothbrush and put paste on it before handing it to you, lifting your hand to your mouth.
“Brush,” he softly ordered, and you did.
After finishing up in the bathroom, Sonny tugged you to your room, where he dressed you in your pajamas. Then he pushed you down into the bed.
“Sleep, okay? I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep,” he promised.
You laid on the pillow, and fresh tears came to your eyes. “He died in my arms,” you muttered.
Sonny’s expression softened. “I heard, doll. There was nothing more you could’ve done. Just rest now.”
As promised, he sat next to you until you drifted off, your hand in his.
*******************************
Sonny practically moved in with you after that, just until you could take care of yourself. He took you to a therapist, and a hair salon. He made you meals and made sure you drank water. At first, he would shower with you and made sure you brushed your teeth; those were the two things you started doing yourself the quickest. It took you a few weeks to break out of the shock-induced disassociation you were experiencing. Eventually, you started helping Sonny cook in your kitchen, and doing small chores around your apartment.
“Thank you, Sonny, for everything,” you said one night while you were eating dinner.
He smiled at you. “Of course, doll. I care about you.”
“I care about you, too. I—I should’ve called you earlier. I was just afraid that it was too soon.”
His smile faltered slightly. “I understand. I…it’s probably still too soon….”
“What do you mean?”
Sonny put his fork down, looking everywhere but at you. “Look, I’ve…I thought that enough time had passed, especially when I heard about your partner—” you flinched at the mention of Drew— “but when you opened the door and I saw how much it affected you, I realized that…I still love you, have always loved you. You were literally wasting away, and I couldn’t stand by and watch.”
You froze, not in shock at him, but at yourself. Because hearing the words out loud, you knew that you loved him, too.
“I’m sorry; you don’t need this right now. The last thing you need on your mind is—”
“I love you, too, Sonny. God, I love you so much,” you replied, throwing your arms around him, and leaning against his side.
He hesitated a moment before he wrapped an arm around your back. “Are ya sure? You’re going through some pretty traumatic stuff right now. Your emotions going a little haywire.”
“I’m sure. I-I was afraid to call you because I couldn’t handle seeing you. Because I never got over you.”
Sonny nodded. “I never got over you, either. Look, if you still want your space, I can live with that, as long as I don’t lose you again. I never want to lose you again.”
“I don’t want to lose you, either. I love you; I want to marry you one day. Let’s just…see how it goes, okay? I’ve learned a lot just in the year we’ve been apart—”
He cut you off with a kiss, his lips soft against yours. He felt so familiar, so much like home, and you realized how much you had really missed him. You kissed him back, holding him to you. He leaned his forehead against yours, lips brushing over yours.
“We’ll figure out the details later. Right now, I just want to get to know you again,” he breathed.
You nodded. “Please, yes. I want to remember you, Dominick.”
He pulled you closer, promising his whole self to you in a searing kiss.
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gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years
Text
Naimhde
This is also part of Pósadh Eagraithe :The Series and I hope you like it! It’s from Han Solo’s POV when he first realises that 1. Boba’s alive and 2. Boba is married to Din meaning that 3. He can’t shoot Boba :(
Ao3 Link
Naimhde= Enemies
Look, Han Solo was having a good day. Emphasis on was. Ben had slept through the night again so Han got his full recommended hours of rest. Then Leia had had the morning off from the Senate so they had all gone to the park together. Luke was on planet for once with the green frog child so Ben was able to play with him. Leia had told him days ago that they were required to attend a ball that was being hosted to celebrate the Republic getting a treaty with Mandalore so he’d already gone through the seven stages of grief about that.
Now, he’s at said ball and across the room from him, Boba fucking Fett is smirking at him. Han snarls at the look the bastard has on his (apparently very scarred?) face but Leia puts a warning hand on his shoulder. “I know that’s Fett but he’s the leader of the Tatooine crime syndicate now, and rumour has it he’s taken over a couple more of the Hutt Space planets. He’s powerful, Han, and he probably hates us enough. No fighting.” She hisses into his ear.
Of course Boba Fett came out of a fucking sarlacc pit to become a godsdamned crime lord. He shouldn’t have been surprised. And he clearly has some sort of power in Mandalore because Mandalorians aren’t naturally deferential but they seem to treat Fett with an extra bit of respect.
A silver Mandalorian comes over to Fett and says something lowly to him. Fett nods and saunters over to Han and Leia with the other Mando striding ahead of him. “That’s the Mand’alor, their king. No one knows his name or species and he never takes his helmet off in front of non-Mandalorians. He signed the treaty as ‘Mand’alor the Reclaimer’ and his people adore him. He’s rumoured to be absolutely deadly, so once again, Han, I don’t care if he’s coming over with Boba Fett, behave.” Leia whispers and Han suppresses his urge to punt Fett into the nearest star.
Contrary to popular belief, Han is smart enough not to piss off the ruler of a warrior culture that are supposedly the greatest fighters in the galaxy. He got lucky with Fett the first time, he’s not making the man’s whole planet mad at him by fucking with their king.
Their pretty intimidating king, he’s not gonna lie. There’s a veritable armoury on the Mand’alor’s person and Han can see the familiar shape of a lightsaber hilt at his waist. Leia had mentioned something about a ‘Darksaber’ and Han does not want to find out the difference between a Darksaber and a lightsaber firsthand.
The Mand’alor inclines his head in a regal greeting as he halts in front of Leia. “Senator Organa, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. Luke mentions you often.” He says in a low, smooth voice. Huh. Han is absolutely loyal to Leia but if the Mando king ever offers a threesome…..
Wait, how does Mando know Luke? Leia seems confused too but she hides it well. “The honour is all mine, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with my brother though?” She says politely, voicing the question in a much more eloquent manner than Han would’ve.
Mando chuckles and answers her with a smile in his voice. “Cuun ad, Grogu, is one of Luke’s students. He’s the small green one with an affinity for frogs.” He explains and Han raises an eyebrow. Luke had said that Grogu would never grow to be taller than maybe hip height but Mando is of fairly average height for a humanoid species. 5’10 or ’11 maybe.
Leia smiles brightly. “Yes, I do know Grogu. Luke mentioned his father was a Mandalorian. That would be you, then?” She says, relaxing slightly. Talking about children is a safe topic, even when Boba Fett is part of the conversation, and no, Han is not letting that go, he’s a Senator’s trophy husband, he’s mastered the art of polite glaring.
Fett speaks up then, still smirking. “Both of his fathers are Mandalorians. I adopted Grogu when the two of us said the riduurok.” He says, looking directly at Han as his brain freezes in its tracks.
Boba Fett is married? Boba Fett is married to the king of Mandalore? Boba Fett is a father?
None of that computes. Han Solo and Boba Fett are not supposed to have anything in common and Boba Fett is most certainly not supposed to be a regular human being with a spouse and kids and apparently a job, if being a crime lord counts as one. But clearly he is and Han is mad about it. It may be irrational but the bastard froze him in carbonite for three years and he’s gotten away with it. Whenever Han imagined Fett it was as a corpse being digested by a plant monster, not as a successful husband and father. Oh, Han is so mad.
Leia squeezes his hand a little tighter than necessary and Han grits his teeth. No fighting. He can do this. He really doesn’t want to do this. Chandrila’s sun is actually quite hot, he knows Beskar has a high melting point but he reckons it wouldn’t hold up against a star. He could just get in the Falcon, with Fett, and then space him beside the star. Boom, problem solved.
Leia is congratulating Fett and the Mand’alor on their marriage and subsequent child. To be completely honest with himself, Han may or not be considering telling Luke to get Grogu into therapy. Having Boba Fett as a father would definitely fuck a kid up.
He tunes back into the conversation as the Mand’alor answers Leia and immediately wishes he hadn’t. “Yes, children are the most important part of our culture. I adopted Grogu before we got together and I actually only met Boba a little while before Luke began teaching him. Boba always knew Grogu was part of the picture and honestly, the kid loves him. His second vow after the riddurok was a gai bal manda for Grogu.” Mando says, helmet tilted towards Fett. It’s probably the armoured equivalent of a sappy look and Han resists the urge to scowl.
He doesn’t know what a riderock or a gabblemanda is but it’s clearly important to Mandalorians and Fett is smiling broadly at his husband. Ugh.
“Oh, that’s incredibly sweet. How did you two meet?” Leia asks and Han screams internally. “When I first Found Grogu, my tribe took on the Hunter’s Guild so we could escape. I was trying to find more Mandalorians and I came across an areuttise on Tatooine who had Boba’s armour. I helped him take down a krayt dragon that was attacking his village and in exchange, he returned the armour to a mando’ad. Boba tracked me to Tython and said he would help me protect Grogu if I gave him back his armour. We were attacked by Dark Troopers and they took Grogu for Moff Gideon. Boba helped me get Grogu back and once he’d taken over Tatooine, he joined our efforts to reclaim Mandalore.” Mando explains and Leia smiles.
“That sounds romantic. The first time I met Han I threatened him.” Leia says anecdotally and Han shoots her a betrayed look. Fett is so going to use that against him somehow, Han just knows it. Instead, Fett just shakes his head and explains further. “Both of us are sol’karta, ‘aromantic’ in Basic. The Mand’alor’s council were concerned about finding a Rid’alor and I was suggested. I accepted, as the Mand’alor is one of my closest friends. I love him dearly but we’re not in love with each other. We’re best friends raising an adorably mischievous ad’ika.” He says and the Mand’alor nods.
Huh. Han can’t say he’s ever heard of an arranged marriage where both parties are friends from the start. He’s sure that some spouses end up as friends but politically arranged marriages in the Core tend to be loveless affairs. He almost finds himself congratulating them on finding a good balance but then he remembers he would be congratulating Fett. Nope, he’s not doing that.
“Oh really? Luke did mention that Grogu has a habit of disappearing on him.” Leia says and Fett laughs. “Yeah, his Force osik enables him a lot. I never realised how much of parenting was going to be coaxing a grumpy toddler off of a ceiling.” He jokes and ugh, Han can relate to that and he’s mad about it. Leia says something in response but Han is too busy glaring at Fett to hear her. The bastard is still smirking, plus he’s not even paying attention to Han, like Han is beneath his notice.
“I know you two have a son, right? If you’re ever on Manda’yaim for diplomacy, perhaps they can hang out together. I know when I was a child, I hated being in boring meetings and Grogu would definitely appreciate a friend.” Fett suggests and Han nearly explodes. Boba Fett’s hellspawn child is not going to corrupt Ben!
“Oh, Ben and Grogu met earlier today actually! Luke is on-planet at the moment and he brought Grogu with him when he heard that your people would be here.” Leia says and Mando’s helmet tilts. It probably means something in Mando Armour Language but Han has no clue what. “Is Luke still on Chandrila?” He asks, seeming curious. “Grogu is due to come home to Manda’yaim next week but if Luke is here, then I might ask if we can bring him home now to save Luke the trip.”
Leia smiles and tells Mando where to find Luke. Mando says his goodbyes and leaves, but Fett stays. They seem to have some form of communicating that Han can’t understand because Fett doesn’t seem confused at all by his husband’s departure without him.
Fett rocks back on his heels before levelling Han with a smug grin. “If you ever feel like going into Fett Space, drop by my palace on Tatooine. I love getting visits from old friends.” He says before bowing to Leia and leaving to follow Mando before Han can splutter a rebuttal. Fett Space! Is he serious?
Apparently he is, as the New Republic receives a missive a few days later, announcing Mandalore’s official recognition of the former Hutt territories as under Boba Fett, their Consort’s, unequivocal rule. It means that if the Republic ever aggravates Mandalore, they would essentially be going to war with the majority of the Outer Rim between Fett’s planets, Mandalore’s vassal planets and the seemingly endless planets that have allied themselves with Mandalore instead of the Republic.
Han isn’t too concerned about the political ramifications, seeing as that’s Leia’s remit and he’s mostly retired, but fuck, he’s mad that he can’t even think about dropkicking Fett into a star without inciting a galaxy-wide conflict. And the bastard knows it. Every time he comes to Republic events as either the Mand’alor’s spouse or as the leader of Fett Space, he acts like the perfect model of decorum so Han can’t even argue that he was provoked.
Han is forty-three, he shouldn’t be having aneurysms but every time he sees Fett his brain stops getting the message. The worst part is that Leia has become friends with the Mandalorian king and Ben is fond of the green child, so Han is forced to interact with Fett on a far too regular basis. Forget Fett, Han is considering launching himself into a star.
Sadly, Leia won’t let him. So Han has to put up with Fett for just a while longer. Speaking of, how old is Fett? Can Han get away with measuring coffins yet? Please say the bastard is at least ninety, he was around during the Clone Wars, there can’t be much left in him. Please, Han is going to lose his mind if he has to play nice with Boba Fett again. And again. And again.
(systems away, Boba’s ears go hot and he knows that Solo is plotting his death once more. Grogu coos and Boba looks down to see the womprat chewing on his pendant again. He chuckles and grabs something softer for Grogu to gnaw at. He has more important things to think about than Solo.)
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dirt-cup-draco · 3 years
Text
Fred x Reader- Ease My Mind
can you do fred weasley & the love language of touch, if that is something that you do?
a/n: he is darling and coming right up <3 ALSO, Important note! I switched phones and forgot to save some of my notes so if you were on my taglist for my fics please send me an ask or dm! I will try to put down those I remember but I may forget a few 
Your shoulders tensed immediately as you walked through the doors of the joke shop. The melodic ringing of the bell attached to the brightly colored wooden frame was drowned out by the sound of kids laughing and parents scolding. Fireworks erupted somewhere above as your eye caught a glimmer of ash and magic descending onto the glossy wooden floors. 
It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable in the shop. You had long since become used to the jarring noise upon entering and it had stopped bothering you, your social anxieties overcome. Yet you were nearly certain it was because every shelf and sound and smell reminded you of the man you loved most. His heart and his soul emanated from every nook and cranny.
What made the hair on the back of your neck raise and your palms begin to sweat was the look of distress on George’s face as you entered, his attention immediately going to you. His lips were in a thin line, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes more pronounced by the bags that lay just underneath his eyelashes and colored the very tips of his cheeks a dull gray. Your heart was stuck in your chest as he plastered on a grin that was so forced it made your own jaw ache as he dodged past another pleased customer. 
“Where is he?” You asked, stomach tied in knots and George shook his head, a guilty look on his face. 
“We were stocking this morning and I was goofing off-”
 You nearly let out a snort but stopped yourself as you noticed the strained expression on your dearly beloved’s brother’s face. 
“-accidentally spooked him and he stumbled down two or three steps on the ladder and the box he was holding came crashing down around him. He’s just barely started going ‘round without his cane and he’s’ frustrated with himself I think and with how the merchandise came down around him...” 
George trailed off and you gave him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand as a group of girls ran around your legs in search for the coveted love potions, one hollering about she would never be as silly as her friends and was only looking out for them. She reminded you of yourself when you had first met the twins. 
“Georgie, it’s not your fault,” You promised as he struggled to meet your eyes. You knew from George’s words that it was likely Fred had been forced back into the past and was seeking comfort in the safety of his bedroom in an attempt to ground himself and stay in the present. “I’ll go see him,” 
George’s slouched shoulders seemed a bit less heavy with your promise and he gave you a short nod, going to help the lonesome cashier who was overwhelmed with a line wrapping around the place. You gave your near brother in-law a thumbs up and then made your way to the far reaches of the store so you could begin your ascent into the twins’ apartment. 
You knew there would be bad days and good days but for Fred’s sake you had hoped that the good would outweigh the bad. At first they had, there was the thrill of finally having no more fear of Voldemort even if his dark forces were still tucked into dark corners. Things had been looking up and everyone was just happy to be alive, yet as the days and weeks flew by it seemed that the horrors of war would be sticking around long after the Dark Lord’s defeat. 
The apartment was colder than usual and Fred wasn’t to be found in the kitchen or the sitting area. There was no music playing to fill the silence nor was there a cup of tea in sight. If it wasn’t for the cleanliness of the place you would’ve wondered if it was inhabited. 
You forced your foot falls to resonate against the flooring louder than usual to give your longtime boyfriend some warning as to your presence yet you kept your knock gentle as you tapped a melody against his door, hand frozen on the doorknob. 
“Fred, love, it’s me,” You called out. “May I come in?” 
The shuffling of socked feet paused momentarily and then the doorknob was twisting against your palm and the door was pulled away from you. Fred poked his head out from behind the door and you gave him a bright smile. Even under such circumstances you couldn’t help but be delighted at the sight of him- especially when you saw the stony expression on his face fall away as he locked eyes with you. 
“Darling,” He greeted, voice croaky from misuse all afternoon. He looked more tired than George and you realized that the younger twin must have been up caring for Fred all night. You regretted going out with Hermione. 
You shouldered your way into the bedroom and took Fred’s hands into yours after he closed the door securely behind you and locked it for peace of mind. You knew he didn’t fear someone coming for him as much as he feared the uncontrollability of an unlocked door. He wasn’t willing to let much into his space and you felt a swell of honor in your chest as you thought about the ease at which he let you in. 
“Sit with me?” You asked, squeezing his hands as his eyes searched yours- his frown not yet gone but the grim glaze over his eyes had dropped away and he was trying to relax for you. Fred’s glance broke away and he stared at a spot on the floor, just behind you. 
“I don’t want to be still,” He mentioned softly, like the admission made him weak somehow. 
“How long have you been pacing?” You had to ask, hands falling away from his to settle on his hips and he shrugged. 
“Since before we opened shop,” 
“Have you eaten?” 
“We can later,” 
Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as Fred couldn’t meet your eyes. You could tell guilt was chewing away at him and you couldn’t stand to see him struggling so much. If you could take his pain from him you would without a second beat. 
“Would you let me go grab you something? Or maybe we could take a walk to that pub you like,” You offered, trying to give him the freedom to choose and think on what he would be most comfortable with yet you hoped he would get something to eat as it might help him relax. Whenever he’d been upset at Hogwarts, locked away in his room, you’d snuck him hand pies and juice and he’d always brightened up considerably. 
You pulled away from him then, making a move to get him some tea, biscuits, anything. You were stalled however by his arms wrapping around your waist fiercely and pulling you to his chest with a grip that almost felt like fear. Your hands laid flat against his back and you rubbed with soothing circles as you stayed in the same spot you had been since entering his room. 
“Y/N,” He grumbled, pressing his nose against the side of your neck as he took a deep breath. You could feel the sudden pitch in his heartbeat against your own chest as he reminded himself you hadn’t left yet and you were still within his grasp. 
“What do you need Freddie?” You coaxed, reaching to tangle your fingers in his hair that had been growing out for some time now. He didn’t trust you or George with cutting it but he hadn’t been too comfortable heading to a salon when all he could see outside the shops were rubble and the clear signs that life still wasn’t back to normal.
“I-” He started but then dropped off for another heavy moment. His voice had cracked and you could feel your top growing damp as he buried his face deeper into the junction between your shoulder and neck. 
“Anything,” You promised, pulling him impossibly closer to help shield him from the challenging feelings he had swirling around in his mind. 
“M-maybe sitting would be nice, or laying down. Being close helps, just having you near is all I need,” He finally settled on and you took half a step back just to look into his watery eyes. Even when they were shining with tears his eyes were the most beautiful you’d ever seen. It wasn’t so much the color as it was the life that swam behind them. Even in his darkest times Fred Weasley was filled with beauty and life. 
“Of course,” 
You let Fred take the lead, his hand still clasped tightly with yours as he tugged you over to his bed. You noticed he was favoring his right leg, his cane discarded probably somewhere near the entrance to the apartment. Helping pull the sheets away from the bed you helped Fred settle onto his side. Once you joined him he let out a deep breath that he had been holding in. His arm found it’s place around your waist and he pulled you to his chest as he curled up tighter, smaller. He’d had struggles with claustrophobia yet he was entirely at ease with his head resting over your heart and his legs tangled with yours- barely a paper’s width between you. 
You trailed your fingers down his side affectionately, hand rubbing gentle circles against his hip and thigh knowing he was hurting from the way he sighed softly, hot breath fanning against your collarbones. Poor Freddie had been pacing too long and pushing through the pain from his injury.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning,” You apologized softly. Maybe if you’d fallen asleep with him his nightmares wouldn’t have been so vicious and his short fall from the ladder that morning wouldn’t have caused such a severe reaction.
“Don’t be, you’re here now,” Fred put your guilt to rest and snuck his hands under your shirt to rest against the warm expanse of your back. He’d always liked the contact and you were glad that you could help ground him in any small way. Your fingers brushed through his hair and you let your nails lightly scrape against the nape of his neck, a shiver going down his spine as he curled up tighter against you. 
You weren’t sure how long you two laid there in silence, hands shifting every so often to pull one another closer or to place an affectionate kiss against a forehead or nose. Your eyes had drifted shut and you weren’t sure if the both of you had drifted off for a moment or if the time was just passing comfortably. Fred’s breathing and heartrate had evened out and you were able to let out a sigh of relief. His hurts were your own and you felt such a deep peace when he was able to come back from the darkness. 
“This feels safe,” He admitted into the shared space between you, voice gentle like never before. “Thank you for easing my mind, Y/N” 
“Thank you for letting me in,” 
Fred smiled against your neck, brushing a kiss against your pulse point. You ruffled his hair and let your eyes fall shut again. Despite Fred’s need to move earlier and the loud memories playing back behind his eyelids he let himself fall into the warm embrace of sleep, nestled against the love of his life. 
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darling-i-read-it · 3 years
Text
The Number of the Beast Is 666...
3x12
Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 
Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, guns, pregnancy, burning, canniablism
Author’s Note: Second to last episode. I’m in my feels. I love this show so much. I hope you guys enjoy!
I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 
Official Episode Summary: The FBI enlists the help of Dr. Fredrick Chilton in hope of drawing Francis Dolarhyde into an ambush; Will's empathy for Dolarhyde impacts his psyche.
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 
Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​
(not my gif) 
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Will sat across from Bedelia. She had her legs crossed, her stance closed. She would likely not open up to him here, not in this space. It felt too much like a therapy session for his taste. You were healing quickly but you weren’t able to make it to this mock session. Instead, Bedelia was curious to know how Will was taking this.
“I look at my wife and I see her dead. I see Mrs. Leads and Mrs. Jacobi lying where Y/N should be,” he said, his voice bitter. Bedelia nodded slowly.
“Do you see yourself killing her?” she questioned. Will rose his chin up at the accusation. 
“No. I see myself killing the rest of them,” his voice lost some confidence as he spoke that but he quickly regained it, “but not her.”
“It’s hard to predict when brittle materials will break. Hannibal gave you three years to build a family and a life, confidence he’d find a way to take them from you,” Bedelia stated. 
“So you know?” he asked. She shrugged.
“I guessed.” Bedelia thought about you as a mother. It seemed like such a foregin way to describe you but not exactly wrong. “Hannibal wants to take her from you because he couldn’t have her.” 
Will raised an eyebrow.
“Alternatively,” he suggested, “I don’t think Hannibal knew that it was going to be Y/N.” 
“But he wants her. Aggression can be effective means of maintaining order in a relationship. Which relationship that is is debatable.” Will adjusted his seating. 
“What’s he going to take from you?” he asked.
“Is it important to you that he take something from me?” she questioned.
“Hannibal has agency in the world.”
“Hannibal has no intention of seeing me dead by any other hand than his own, and only then if he can eat me. He’s in no position to eat me now,” she said smoothly. He nodded in agreement. 
“If you play, you pay.” 
“You’ve paid dearly. As has your wife. That knowledge will lie in the skin forever.” She thought about that for a moment. “It excites him to see you marked in this particular way.” 
“Why?” 
“Why do you think?” 
Will studied her, amused and almost annoyed by her psychiatric games. He played this enough with Hannibal.
“Bluebeard’s wife. Secrets you’re not to know, yet sworn to keep,” he said. Bedelia raised her chin and shook her head, ever so slightly.
“I was not Bluebeard’s wife, I was your wife’s stand in.” She paused. “But if I was, I would’ve preferred to be the last.” 
Will considered this. He thought about you. He was away from you and that seemed nearly illegal. You and him had always been together. But then he thought of Hannibal. He thought of you and Hannibal. He thought of the three of you. His mind slowed for a moment. 
“Is Hannibal…in love..with me?” he asked. Bedelia smiled.
“Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment in the very sight of you? Yes. But you are not just you. You come with Y/N Graham as well.” She reminisced on the days before Florence for a minute. Seemed like ages ago. “When Hannibal would hear the two of you bunched together like that he got irked, like his mind could only comprehend his want for one of you at a time. And then, as time went on, I think he realized that you came together. He could have both of you. The Grahams.” Will took this at face value. In a way, it was something he had always known. “But does she ache for him? Do you?” Will did not answer. He just stared. Bedelia went on. “Once you catch the Red Dragon, you can take your wife and your dogs home again. But will you go?” 
-
Hannibal stood across from Jack. They hated the presence of each other but stiffled it, for presence purposes. 
“Will’s thoughts are no more bound by fear or kindness than Milton’s were by physics. He is both free and damned to imagine anything.” 
“Now that he’s imagined the worst,” Jack stated. Hannibal nodded. 
“Like ducklings, we imprint on those ideas that grab our attention,” he explained.
“What’s got your attention? God, the Devil and the Great Red Dragon? I couldn’t believe you messed up with him Hannibal.” Hannibal ignored the last comment. That was an anger used to simmer for another time.
“Lest we forget the Lamb.”
“Will is the Lamb of God?” Jack asked. Hannibal thought about this for a moment. 
“Hide us from the wrath of the Lamb,” Hannibal settled on.
“Who’s ‘us’?” Jack asked. Hannibal smiled.
“You, me, his wife and the Great Red Dragon.” 
-
You walked with Alana down to Hannibal’s cage. Your shoulder ached and pained you but you ignored it as best you could. She looked at you steadily as you approached the door. 
“Have you spoken to Will?” she asked. You looked over to her.
“He doesn’t even know I’m out of the hospital. Which will hopefully not cause any panic,” you muttered offhandedly. You glanced over at her and she saw an ounce of fear in your eyes. 
“You know, when I found out I was pregnant it wasn’t exactly a shock. But I was scared. I knew the world my child was being brought into. But he’s okay now. It’ll all make sense, I swear it,” she promised. You gave her a sensitive smile and nodded softly. 
“You brought a Verger baby. I’m bringing a Graham baby who will hear conflicted stories of the great Hannibal the Cannibal. I worry that I will bring the baby here to see him, if he’s still here. And they will be raised with him in the back of their minds, always wondering what exactly went on between their parents and a serial murderer,” you whispered carefully. As you finished you turned to the door and opened it before she could say anything more. 
She let you walk through the doors alone. 
Hannibal was standing at the glass. It was like he knew you were coming but the look on his face betrayed him. He was surprised to see you. And even a bit relieved, you could tell. You walked up to just a few feet away from the glass and stopped.
“Your shoulder-”
“It’s okay,” you promised. You glanced down at the floor and noticed that all of his things were gone, including his desk and chair. Reminded of the days when Will was in prison, you tentatively sat down on the ground. 
  Hannibal watched you and stayed still for a moment. Then he sat down in front of you on the ground. You smiled gently at the gesture.
“Will told you?” 
“Yes.” You looked into his eyes. You stared into them, deep into them.
“I have a feeling that you will not be here to meet them,” you stated. “I don’t know why. I just feel like something is bound to go wrong. We will catch the Dragon and then we will go home and nothing will be the same.” Hannibal watched your emotions rise and fall. Your face that he yearned to touch. He almost reached his hand up to the glass.
“What will you name them?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet. But Will is never going to allow Hannibal, if that’s what you want,” you said laughing. 
“Pity,” he said and even he was laughing a bit. “I did not tell him to hurt you.” You nodded.
“I know.” You leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it then?” 
Hannibal smiled.
-
As you walked out of the room Alana gestured to you. Apparently Jack and Will were already in the building. 
You walked into the room with Alana and Will stood up.
“I was worri-”
“You never would have let me come if I told you. How’s Bedelia?” He shook his head and grabbed you by the waist, kissing you on the forehead. It conveyed his worry. He turned back to Jack.
“Eight people dead in a month. We can’t play a long game. I say we go for it. You know I know it’s the best way to bait him,” Jack said. He didn’t even glance twice at you. 
“You know Jack, if you had wanted me dead you didn’t have to go through all these lengths to make an attempt. Bringing Will, talking to Hannibal, calling the Dragon. It was all so extensive,” you sneered. Jack gave you a look.
“We don’t have time for this.” You slammed your hands on his Alana’s desk that he was standing behind. 
“It could have been me Jack. You would’ve had to go to my funeral and sit in the front row next to my grieving husband and wonder, ‘huh could I have done something to change this outcome’. And your mind will say no and so my husband would have sat there, thinking it was his fault, for the rest of his life!” you screamed. Jack was still. He had seen you like this once before. When he arrested Will. Alana watched from where she was standing by the window, a proud look on her face.
Will was more or less scared.
“And what do you do now? What do you do now?!” you asked. “Oh yes. The only logical solution. Send Will into the fire and bait the Dragon.” 
“Will suggested i-” he started but you gave him an ice cold look.
“I don’t care.” 
“We’ve fooled ourselves once into believing we were in control of what was happening. Are we still under that delusion?” Alana asked. You turned to her and Will did as well and as he did so he staggered. He had seen something in his head. 
“The Dragon has a certain abstract curiosity about me Y/N. All psychopaths are narcissists, they love to read about themselves. We should use Freddie.” You turned to him and he saw again whatever he had seen on Alana’s face. He grabbed your arm out of instinct. 
“I’m not letting you put yourself in harm's way.”
“We’re already in harm's way. Both of us.” 
“She would need to interview you,” you said. “Take your picture.”
“We’re in it now. Can’t go home as long as he’s loose. I really bad mouth the Red Dragon in Tattlecrime and then give him a shot at me.” You turned to Jack Crawford.
“If I had to choose, it would be you giving the interview. You risking your life. You.” 
-
You sat on a desk. Will stood just in front of you, his leg touching your knee. You had your fingers wrapped around the underneath of the desk as you looked over at Freddie Lounds where she sat. Chilton was in front of her, Alana and Jack elsewhere in the room. 
“There’s a strong bonding of aggressive and sexual drives that occurs in sadists at an early age,” Chilton said. 
“He's a vicious, perverted, sexual failure. An animal,” Will stated. You stared at Will and noticed that it had caught Chilton off too. You smiled a bit at the corners of your mouth. 
“The savage acts aimed primarily at the women, and performed in the presence of family, are clearly strikes at a maternal figure.” 
“The Tooth Fairy’s the product of an incestuous home.” Freddie scribbled this down aggressively, eating it all up.
“This is the child of a nightmare.” Those words hung in the air for a moment. Freddie pressed the stop button on her recording. 
“We need a key shot taken in your ‘Washington hideaway’,” Jack said. 
“Can I flip off the camera?” you asked.
“You’re not going to be in the picture,” Will chastised. You shrugged.
“I’d love something like you in a bathrobe, at the desk, poring over an artist’s conception of the Fairy,” Freddie said, holding up an artist concept drawing of Francis. You raised an eyebrow. 
“I’ll stand by the window.”
“I don’t know, the bathrobe seemed compelling to me. Maybe I’ll pick up my first copy of Tattlecrime,” you said. Will gave you a look but you just smiled. Freddie seemed to like that you agreed with her.
“Make sure you can get the fountain and the Capitol dome behind me Freddie. The Red Dragon has to be able to find this place, if he wants to,” Will finished. Freddie nodded and walked over. “Would you like to be in the picture, Frederick?” 
-
Alana slid a package through Hannibal’s cage.
“May I open it privately?” he asked.
“You may not.” 
She looked down at it as he started to open it. The box fell open to reveal two lips, no longer attached to their owner. Hannibal contained his surprise and anger. He took one between his fingers and straightened his backs.
“As though presents would allow me to forgive him,” Hannibal muttered but still, he put the lips between his own and ate it.
-
You stared at the screen in front of you. On it was Frederick Chilton, notably restrained. Beside you stood Will and at his desk was Jack Crawford. 
“I have had a great privilege. I have seen with wonder and awe the strength of the Great Red Dragon. I lied about Him. All that was said was lies from Will Graham,” Chitlon said. You straighten your back. “He made me say them. I have blasphemed against the Dragon. Even so, the Dragon is merciful. He knows you made me lie, Will Graham. Because I was forced to lie, He will be more merciful to me than to you, Will Graham.” You hated this. Every fiber of your being hated this. You wanted to turn it off but you didn’t, you needed to see the end. “Reach behind you, Will Graham, and feel for the small knobs on the top of your pelvis. Feel your spine between them; that is the precise spot where the Dragon will snap your spine. There’s much for you to dread. From my own lips, you’ll learn a little more to dread.” 
“Turn it off, Jack,” Alana said and Jack nodded, turning it off. You felt your spine all of the sudden. You were aware it was there. You felt it being tugged by a phantom force and turned to your husband, shaking your head. He stumbled back into a chair, head in his hands. 
You sat in front of him and grabbed his hands. Your skin touched his face as he held your hands there, blocking his sight. You turned to Jack Crawford. If looks could kill…
-
Bedelia looked at you two. Back again, sitting together. Your shoulder slumped but otherwise seemingly unaffected. Whatever emotional tole this may have taken, you did not show it on your face. 
Will on the other hand.
“Would you like to talk about what happened to Frederick Chilton?” she asked.
“The divine punishment of the sinner mirrors the sin being punished,” Will said. 
“Contrapasso. If you play, you pay,” she repeated. 
“Chilton languished unrecognized until Hannibal the Cannibal. He wanted the world to know his face and now, he doesn’t have one,” you said. 
“We’re all making our way through the Inferno. Dante’s pilgrims,” Bedelia siad.
“We’re pets, not pilgrims. And the Great Red Dragon kills pets first,” Will muttered.
“I hate that name. I wish we knew his actual name so we could call it so. It must be something mundane, something so unassuming,” you whispered, shaking your head.
“You put a hand on Dr. Chilton’s shoulder for the picture Will. Touch gives the world an emotional context.” She gestured to the hand that was brushing yours. Not holding. Just touching. “The touch of others makes us who we are. It builds trust.”
“I put my hand on his shoulder for authenticity,” Will argued. You felt that wasn’t true but you didn’t say it. 
“To establish he really told you those insults about the Dragon? Or had you wanted to put Dr. Chilton at risk? Just a little?” Bedelia questioned.
“I wonder,” Will muttered. 
“Do you really have to wonder?” she questioned. He paused.
“No.”
“Did you know what the Great Red Dragon would do Will? You were curious what would happen, that’s apparent. Is this what you expected?” Will was glad you were there. He grabbed your hand fully.
“I can’t say I’m surprised.” 
“Then you may as well have struck the match. That’s participation.” She studied the two of you. “Hannibal Lecter does indeed have agency in the world. He has both of you.”
-
“He did Chilton like it looked like you did Freddie Lounds. Hannibal said he would, in his own way,” Jack muttered. They stood outside of where Chilton was being taken care of, you beside him and Will. 
“He wanted to make amends to Hannibal,” Will said. You crossed your arms.
“He’ll have to do better than that.” Jack walked inside of the room but before Will walked in you grabbed his arm. 
“I hate this. I have a pit in my stomach and it won’t go away,” you whispered. He faced you completely and put his hand on your cheek, moving away some hair. 
“That’s a baby,” he joked. You rolled your eyes but smiled.
“I mean a feeling Will.” 
“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.” 
You didn’t believe him.
3x13
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older-brother-kit · 3 years
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The Sibling Matchmakers Club ch. 5
It’s been quite a while (sorry about that, there were things irl that were happening) but I’m back with chapter 5! Here’s the link for the chapter on ao3, and the link for chapter 1 on both tumblr and on ao3. Please let me know what you think on a reblog or a comment!! <3
Chapter 5: Together Once Again
Tessa Gray couldn’t stop smiling. James was finally coming back after what felt like forever, even though in reality it had been around a month. Tessa was sitting at the gate James would soon be walking out of, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off the doors. She’d never gone so long without seeing her son before. 
James wasn’t the only one she’d gone a long time without seeing. Tessa used to try not to think about it because she’d tear up every time, but James actually wasn’t her only child. A long time ago, there had been three: James, Lucie, and Mina. When James and Lucie were 3 and Mina was almost 2, Tessa had gotten divorced and the children had all been split up. They had agreed not to tell the kids about each other and just raise them separately, thinking it was the best option.
Tessa regretted it immediately after signing the paperwork. 
She thought about Lucie and Mina all the time. Her daughters, her precious daughters. What were they like now? Lucie used to be such a curious baby, always pointing out new things and trying to fit everything she could into her mouth. Mina used to constantly smile and giggle, and she loved grabbing her older siblings’ fingers. Every time they called her Mommy or Mama, Tessa’s heart would burst with happiness. 
She would never get to hear them call her Mom again. It was a rough thing to remember, and Tessa’s smile slowly faded. She wouldn’t even know how to contact their fathers now, after the messy break up they’d had. If she could go back in time and change it she would, but it was far too late. I hope they’re happy and healthy, wherever they are. It wasn’t her first time wishing for such a thing.
Her train of thought was put on hold when people started to walk out of the door after getting off the plane, and Tessa shot up from her seat. She carefully looked through the growing crowd, searching for a young boy with curly hair. “James,” she called out when she couldn’t find him. “Jamie?”
“Mom?” a voice said, and Tessa turned around.
She felt her heart stop in her chest. There was a young girl who looked to be the same age as James, with wavy brown hair and light blue eyes. Blue eyes, Tessa thought. Will’s eyes. A girl with Will’s blue eyes and Tessa’s own brown hair just called her Mom.
“Mom?” the girl said again, looking up at her with a tight grip on her suitcase. “I’m-”
“Lucie?” Tessa whispered. There was only one person it could possibly be. “Is that you?”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m Lucie, Lucie Herondale.” She raised a shaky hand towards Tessa. “Can I-”
Tessa moved quicker than she ever had before, wrapping her daughter up in a tight hug. “Lucie, I’ve missed you,” Tessa said, unable to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she was holding the daughter she hadn’t seen in nine years. “It’s been so long. I’m sorry, we never should’ve been separated.” 
“Mom,” Lucie cried, and Tessa could feel the girl’s tears on her shirt. “I’ve always wanted to meet you.”
“I thought about you all the time,” Tessa admitted softly. “You and… Hold on.” She paused and carefully stepped away from Lucie, confused. “How did this happen? Where’s James? How much do you know?”
Lucie wiped at her eyes and smiled. “James and I met at camp. Mina, too.”
“Mina?” Tessa gasped, feeling the tears coming back. “My Mina? Is she alright?”
“She is.” Lucie said, nodding enthusiastically. “She’s really nice and I’m happy we found out we’re sisters. James is really cool too, even if we didn’t get along at first. I can’t believe I have a twin!”
“I’m glad,” Tessa said, before hugging her daughter once more. “I’m so glad you’re all healthy and happy. I have no idea how you three ended up at the same camp and figured this out. I especially have no idea how you managed to switch flights,” Lucie gulped at that, “but I love you and I’m so happy to see you again.”
Lucie nodded into Tessa’s shirt. “Papa is great, but I’m happy that I have a mom and another dad. I’ve always wondered about you.”
Tessa clung to her daughter tighter. “I think about you all the time. I’ve always hoped you and Will were doing okay.”
She couldn’t believe this was happening. Tessa had been thinking about her other two children earlier, but she never would have guessed that one of them would show up. She missed James, and she desperately wanted to see Mina again now too. If she could see all of them in a room together, laughing and smiling, Tessa would be the happiest mother in the entire world. 
She was looking forward to it.
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Will Herondale couldn’t sit still, so he was standing. Not that he could stand still either. 
He was so excited to see Lucie that he couldn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet. Before, he’d been pacing around the gate entrance and checking his phone for the time every five minutes. The passengers were all coming out now, and Will was scanning the crowd to look for his daughter.
“Lucie!” Will yelled out, smiling at the thought of seeing his daughter again. 
“Hello,” a soft voice said from behind him, and Will turned around to see a young girl who must’ve been a little younger than Lucie. She had black hair put up in two pigtails, and dark brown eyes. “Are you Will Herondale?”
“Yes,” Will answered slowly. “Who-” Will stopped after getting another good look at her face. No… There was no way it could be her. Yet at the same time, the girl looked an awful lot like Jem Carstairs and Tessa Gray.
“I don’t know if you remember me or not,” the girl started shyly, “But I’m Mina, Mina Carstairs.” 
Will couldn’t look away. “Mina,” he whispered. “How could I ever forget you?” He quickly bent down and wrapped his daughter up in a bone-crushing hug. “Mina,” he said again into her hair. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
Mina hugged back just as tight. “Is it okay if I call you Papa like Lucie does?” she asked softly. 
Will laughed, and took that moment to rub the tears from his eyes. He would admit to crying --he’d missed Mina dearly. “Of course you can,” he said. “That’s what you did when you were a baby. We’re not biologically related, but you’re still my daughter too. That’s how we always planned on raising you and the others.”
There was a moment of comfortable silence where neither of them let go of each other, but eventually Mina separated them. “James is with Dad,” she told him, smiling. “And Lucie is with Mom.” 
“I wondered,” Will said, and laughed again. “I have no idea how all this happened, but if anyone could pull this off it would be you three. I’m guessing you met at camp?”
Mina nodded. “Lucie was my roommate,” she stated, then paused. “James and I met in the cafeteria on the first day, but, well.” Mina smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. She had Jem’s eyes but Tessa’s smile, and it made Will’s heart ache. “We sort of got into a prank war. I may or may not have started it.”
“Oh?” Will asked, delighted. “Truly a girl after my own heart. You must take after me; I was undefeated at prank wars, back in the day.”
Mina took his hand, and he grabbed her suitcase with the hand not occupied. Together, they started walking out of the gate area. “My brother taught me a lot of pranks, you’d love him.” Mina said, swinging their hands slightly.
Will snapped his head to her direction. “James?” he beamed. “How is he, is he doing well?” He had raised Lucie and reunited with Mina, but Will hadn’t seen James in a very long time. Will had often thought about James and Mina and wondered how they were doing. He’d missed them both very much, and couldn’t believe he was seeing Lucie again after so long. It was a huge relief that his other children seemed to be doing well.
Mina’s eyes widened. “Oh. I guess you wouldn’t know.”
After hearing her words, Will felt like someone had doused him in ice cold water. His heart beat faster as he imagined a thousand different things that could have possibly happened to his son, all bad. “Is he okay?” he asked, trying to keep calm.
“No, not like that!” Mina waved her arm frantically, as if to wipe away the scared look that must’ve shown on Will’s face. “It’s just that, James isn’t my only brother. I was actually talking about my older brother, Kit.”
Will frowned. “Older brother?” he asked. It would’ve made sense if Mina had said younger brother, since Jem could have always gotten together with someone else after the divorce and had another child. Will ignored the pain his heart felt when imagining Jem with someone else. A child older than Mina wouldn’t make sense however, since Jem hadn’t been with anyone before Will and Tessa. They had been Jem’s first relationship. First and only, Will’s mind reminded him. It was supposed to be first and only. It was supposed to be forever.
“Kit is adopted,” Mina clarified, and Will let out a sigh of relief. Not that he was relieved Jem hadn’t married and had a child with someone else or anything. If Jem married someone else, it wouldn’t be any of my business, Will told himself. “Dad knew Kit’s mom a long time ago, and when Kit’s parents died Dad took him in even though he had never even met Kit before.”
“That makes sense,” Will murmured, smiling. “Jem would do that. He’s always been the kindest person I’ve ever known.” 
“He always wants to help people,” Mina agreed, giving him a quick look that he couldn’t interpret. 
The two of them eventually made their way out of the airport, but Will couldn’t stop thinking of his past loves and their children. Lucie was with her mother and James was with his other father, but the three of them would have to be switched back. Will would finally see his family all in one room and complete again, after all those years. Thinking about it made him anxious and excited at the same time. 
He couldn’t wait.
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Jem Carstairs held back a laugh, knowing that if he did laugh then Kit would be offended. They were currently waiting in the airport for Mina to get off her flight, and Kit wouldn’t stop tapping his feet or messing with his hands. Jem himself wasn’t as fidgety, but he did miss his daughter and couldn’t wait to see her. He knew Kit would be too embarrassed to directly tell Mina that he missed her, but his nervous ticks while waiting for her gave him away. It always amused Jem, when Kit tried to hide the feelings that were so obviously exposed by his actions.
“Oh, they’re coming!” Kit exclaimed, pointing to the now open doors where people were rushing into the airport after getting off the plane. Both Jem and Kit quickly stood up and started looking for Mina. 
A lot had happened since Mina had left for camp. One of Jem’s coworkers retired, and Jem had to pick up a lot more patients than usual when the hospital had trouble replacing him. He’d been busy throughout the time Mina had been gone, as they’d only found a good replacement a few days back. So Jem had spent more time at the hospital, though of course he went home and spent almost all of the time he wasn’t working with Kit.
There had also been a new, unexpected development: Jem now had a girlfriend, Zara Dearborn. Zara was hired as a nurse a couple months ago, and they’d often work together. She was a smart woman with great wit, and she was always so kind to her patients and to him. When Zara asked him out, he couldn’t say no. He had finally felt comfortable introducing her to Kit and having her over at the house in the past few weeks, and Kit seemed to have a neutral opinion on her. Jem had hoped for a more positive reaction, but he knew that if Zara and Kit just spent more time together, they’d grow to like each other.
Jem hadn’t told Mina about Zara yet. He figured that it would be best to talk to his daughter about his girlfriend in person, rather than over the phone. Today was a family day that Jem wanted to spend with his children only, but he would introduce them soon. He hoped that Mina and Zara would get along. As much as he liked Zara --and he did, so much that recently he was considering getting an engagement ring-- his children would always matter more to him, and that was final.
“Excuse me,” a voice said, and a young boy walked up to them. He had curly black hair, gray eyes that looked almost gold in the light, and looked to be a little older than Mina. “Are you the Carstairs family?”
Jem recognized him instantly.
“Yeah,” Kit answered, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know us?”
“James,” Jem breathed out, barely believing what was right in front of his eyes. “Jamie. Is that you?”
Kit looked between them, alarmed. “Uh, I’m not sure what I’m missing here and why both of you suddenly look like you're going to cry, but an explanation would be nice.”
“Dad,” James called with a shaky voice, and he stepped forward. Jem stepped closer as well, and in no time at all he was holding the son he hadn’t seen in so long. He could barely believe this was happening.
It had been many years since Jem had last seen his other son, and James had grown up to look a lot like Will Herondale with Tessa Gray’s eyes. Jem couldn’t help but love him more than ever before. He had no idea how James was here instead of Mina or how they’d figured out the truth in the first place, but Jem wasn’t complaining. He missed Mina, but it felt like a lifetime since he’d last seen James. Jem thought of Lucie, and if she was also involved in this somehow. He hadn’t seen Lucie in just as long, and he missed his other daughter. 
James slowly let go of him, bringing his head up from where it had been buried in his dad’s shirt. His hands were trembling. “I didn’t know if you remembered me or not,” he whispered, wiping at his eyes.
Jem crouched down so that they were eye level, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I would never forget you,” he told him honestly, his eyes tearing up. After all these years, he still thought of James and Lucie often. It wasn’t possible for him to forget and stop missing his own children. “And I never stopped loving you, either.”
James looked like he was going to cry again, but instead pulled Jem in for another hug. Looking over his shoulder, Jem locked eyes with Kit, who was looking back at him with wide eyes.
“Dad,” Kit said, the bewilderment clear in his voice. “Did you have a secret kid or something? Though if he’s named after you it couldn’t have been secret.” He paused, thinking out loud at this point. “I mean I guess James is a common enough name, it could be coincidence. He is your son, right? I’m assuming because he called you dad which didn’t seem to surprise you, and you seem to know him, but if this is just some huge misunderstanding-”
“Kit,” Jem interrupted, amused. He and James let go of each other, and Jem stood up straight. “He’s my son. Mina’s other parents and I, we had two other children aside from Mina.”
“The three of us met at camp,” James explained, looking happy to clear things up. “We figured out we were all siblings and switched flights. Lucie is with Mom in New York, and Mina is with Papa in London.”
“Switched flights?” Jem asked, surprised. “How did you manage that?”
“You’re better off not knowing.” James said after a slight pause, and avoided eye contact. Jem raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask any other questions on the topic.
“Huh,” Kit said.
“Lucie,” Jem said. “It’s been so long. How is she, is she doing okay? Are you doing okay?” Jem was desperate to know that his other children were alright, that they grew up happy and healthy.
“I’m good! And Lucie, she’s good too. She’s very…” James hesitated, likely searching for a good descriptor. “Excitable.” He said the word slowly, as if it was a word from a book that he’d read but never actually said out loud before.
Jem laughed. “She sounds like Will at that age.”
Kit blinked. “Will?” 
“Will Herondale and Tessa Gray, Mina’s other parents,” Jem replied, answering the unasked question. “They’re also the other parents of James here, and Lucie who you’ve yet to meet.”
“What happens now?” Kit asked. “We have to get everyone back together eventually, right?”
Jem wondered how that meeting would go. He hadn’t seen Will and Tessa in so long, but he had never forgotten them. There were many years when Jem thought that he’d never be able to fall in love with anyone else. Zara wasn’t the first person to ask him out, but Jem had always said no before. No relationship could ever compare to what he’d once had, and it took a while for Jem to realize that that was okay. When Zara had asked him out on a date, Jem decided to say yes, and he didn’t regret it. He really did love Zara, and they were happy, but he couldn’t help but wonder if old feelings would resurface if he saw Will and Tessa again. He decided to save those thoughts for later. 
There were James, Mina, and Lucie to think about. They would all have to meet up to switch back eventually, but Jem liked to focus on the part where he’d be able to see all of his children, including Kit, together. He’d missed James so much, he wanted to see Mina after being separated, and he ached to see Lucie again. The idea of all three of his younger children interacting with Kit also made him happy.
Jem preferred to focus on the positive side of things, and he couldn’t wait to see all of his children happy and together.
-----
It’s been so long that this tag list might not be accurate and people probably changed their usernames, so let me know if you’re name isn’t here and you wanted to be added to the list!
Tag List: @julieandthefandoms @zfoxdraws @thomaslightwood @thechangeling @livia-dovehallow @themostawesomehuman @hands-dripping-ink @panicatwallmaria @immortal-enemies  @bookishgeekygirl @lightlady599 @biablackthorn @haleylightwood @celias @honorablescythecurie
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A Chronicle of Loss
Summary: 5 people Spencer Reid lost and 1 person he gained. A look at the traumas Spencer faces over the series, and giving him the happy ending he deserves.
Tags: grief, loss, abandonment issues, insecurity, depression, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, getting together, ‘didn’t know they were dating’, protective derek, autistic spencer
TW: self-harm, drug addiction, grief
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid
Word Count: 3.6k
Masterlist // Read on AO3
The Inescapable Unravelling (<)
1. William
Spencer’s only ten years old when he watches his father pack his bags in his parents’ bedroom, watches as he smiles sadly at the sorry sight of him and his mother begging him not to leave, only to ignore their pleas and walk out the door. He remembers the anxiety written on his mother’s face, the shame in her eyes at being left in such a cruel way, the uncertainty as to whether they’d cope without William like it’s branded onto his skin, an egregious mark he can’t ignore. 
Just like that, he became the man of the house. He became the voice of reason, the sensible one, the person dealing with Diana’s episodes, all while balancing his school work in a desperate attempt to live a different life to the one he existed in as a child. 
He knows it wasn’t solely Diana, or Riley Jenkins, or any average marital issue that caused him to leave, he knows it was partly that William simply didn’t know how to handle an autistic child prodigy. He had a genius son who struggled with communication, had no friends, and refused to engage in any of the bonding activities he came up with. In the end, Spencer being different only compounded his desire to leave and, eventually, he stopped suppressing it and gave in.
He’d never blame his mother, but her confusion in her episodes often sent him flying down half a flight of steps or clutching a stinging cheek or banging his head on a door frame. She called him clumsy and he didn’t correct her. She called him ‘crash’ and he accepted the nickname. Without William there, he was completely and utterly alone, left to deal with the grief of losing a father and a schizophrenic mother who struggled to look after herself, let alone him. 
He still thinks about it all these years later. He thinks about what his father said to Diana when he left: “you refuse to take care of yourself.” He reflects on the fact that he was well aware Diana wouldn’t be able to take care of him, that he would be left to fend for himself, that a 10 year old can’t provide adequate mental health support no matter how hard he tries, and he still left. He thinks about what that meant, how little his father actually cared for him. 
He still thinks about it, and he still cries. His first encounter with grief, and he was only 10 years old. 
2. Innocence
Spencer had joined the BAU at 22: three PhDs under his belt and a lifetime of expectation on his shoulders, but somehow he’d managed to remain the most innocent member of the team throughout the first few years of his job. Until Tobias Hankel had taken it and completely obliterated any shreds of naivete he had left. 
Of course, he knew evil. He’d even experienced it first-hand, he’d been viciously bullied growing up and he’d encountered his fair share of violent, deranged serial killers, but Tobias -- or, more accurately, Charles and Raphael -- introduced him to evil on a completely new scale. The pain and fear that had tormented him in that cabin lived in a secluded, festering part of his psyche, reproducing at a terrifying rate in his memory, never resting, never quieting, unless dilaudid was streaming through his veins. 
His innocence was gone; there was only darkness, loneliness, corruption, and he was grieving for something he’d never get back. His life was now separated into two distinctly different eras, marked only by his kidnapping, by the cruel torture he’d been subjected to. 
Along with his innocence, he’d lost his relationships, he’d lost the family he’d found and loved so dearly. Nobody tried to help him escape the clutches of his PTSD or addiction, he felt like he was drowning right in front of his friends while they talked and laughed among themselves, muffling his desperate cries for help, and the frustration and abandonment joined the pain and fear in their festering corner of his mind. 
He eventually gets clean, he eventually recovers. But he’s never the same. He’s forever tainted by the actions of one man -- a man he struggled to blame -- and he can’t help but mourn the life he had before Tobias, the optimistic, brightly coloured world-view he used to hold before it was ripped up, stamped on, and burned to ashes right before his eyes. 
3. Gideon
Gideon leaves. Gideon leaves and the blow is almost as crushing as it was when he was ten. His mentor, his father figure, his friend abandons him with no warning, no goodbye. It hurts that he didn’t think Spencer worthy of anything more than a useless fucking letter that he left for him in a cabin because he knew that Spencer loved him enough to drive out there and find it; he knew that Gideon was much more special to Spencer than he ever was to him.
This pain feels almost worse because he’s surrounded by people feeling the same way, if to a less extreme extent. He finds himself comparing himself to Hotch, Derek, the whole team: it makes him feel as though he’s overreacting when even Penelope, arguably the most emotive member of the BAU, seems back on her feet within a few days and Spencer still feels as though he’s been hollowed out and all his insides replaced with the smouldering ashes of grief filling him up, weighing heavy in his stomach, climbing up his throat and choking him. 
He drags his feet, he doesn’t sleep, he drinks coffee, he runs on auto-pilot. Others notice, of course they do, but there’s nothing any of them can say to make it better, not even Hotch when he’s pulled into his office and sternly told that he needs to open up. Spencer just looks at him with empty, exhausted eyes and shrugs. Weeks ago, he would’ve cried but there aren’t anymore tears to cry, he’s reached a truce with himself. He isn’t happy but he isn’t crushingly depressed anymore: he feels nothing, an abyss of grey matter circling around inside him as he struggles to perform basic functions. 
“It’ll get better, kid,” Derek says seriously one day when he sits down at his desk, dullness settled deep in his eyes and numbness deep in his veins. It doesn’t feel like it. 
Rossi joins the team and he’s nothing but cold towards Spencer and the rejection only adds insult to injury, and nobody seems to care. His stomach hurts all the time and he’s losing weight again, he knows, but he can’t seem to put any effort into anything at all, least of all trying to be happy, trying to look after himself. 
He’s lost his protector and he’s replaced by another person who sees him as an intentional but irritating robot to be used and discarded, not thought of again until another geographical profile is required, or an obscure fact would help the investigation. The agony of existence for almost a year after Gideon’s disappearance feels almost too much to bear, even if Rossi does warm up to him, even if he does eventually begin to heal and forgive. It’s the first time grief almost kills him, and he isn’t even mourning the dead. 
4. Emily
Emily’s death tears him apart. For the first time since the year after Hankel, he considers many things. He buys dilaudid and fiddles with the bottle every evening, torn between the sweet relief he knows would be guaranteed the second it’s flooding his bloodstream and the torment of knowing it was Emily who helped him get clean the first time, how disappointed she’d be if she knew he was throwing away all those hours she put in, disregarding the belief she had in him. 
He holds a razor over the top of his thighs and slashes as deep as he can bear, daydreams about burying the blade deep enough to slice open his femoral artery and give up, embrace the darkness that’s been living inside him for years anyway. But he can’t stand the grief it would bring JJ, losing another sibling to suicide, even if he isn’t blood related. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone but himself, but it’s so cripplingly tempting and the frustration at not being able to give in to any of his darker fantasies has him tearing his heart out. 
Instead he cries, sobs, weeps, over the death of his best friend, shouts in anger at the unfairness of Emily’s life being taken by a dirty criminal while he gets to live as she’s six feet under, dark and cold in the ground. Images of her beautiful face he loved so much rotting away, turning into something grotesque and mangled roam around in his brain and he berates himself relentlessly for not appreciating her wide grin and teasing eyes more, hates himself for not appreciating every single moment with her that he could. 
And when she miraculously rises from the dead, he can’t even appreciate it because he feels as though he’s lost another friend. JJ, the one person he tried every day to live for, pictured in his mind every time he considered ending everything, had deceived him, had held him while he cried, held a cool washcloth to his forehead after he threw up from the force of his crying and the extremity of his grief, had watched him writhe in agony, all while having the power to stop it and doing nothing. 
The betrayal dizzies him: he doesn’t know who he can trust and the shock of Emily’s return leaves him reeling. He’s cold to the people he loves, and he can’t rejoice in Emily’s return, can’t sit down with her and chat like they used to, or hug her again, or joke with her, or prank Derek together. Again, he’s drowning and this time everyone’s focus is on him but he’s refusing their hands reaching out to help, stubbornly accepting his fate, too scared to take an outstretched arm in case it lets him go again. Surely the cold darkness of the cruel waters is kinder than another rejection or deception?
Finally, finally, he decides to trust one hand and he’s pulled above the waters again, not quite out of the ocean but at least he can breathe. Eventually, he finds the strength to walk to shore and he’s wrapped up in Emily’s strong arms, burying his face in her hair and swearing he’ll never let go again. 
5. Alex
He never, not for a moment, blames Alex for her decision to let go. If anything he admires her for it, he’s proud she made the right decision for her and her family, and at least he saw this one coming. He’s lost enough people by this point that the loss doesn’t ache and burn and fester in the way it used to, and they stay in contact; they have a bi-weekly FaceTime call and she texts him memes that he doesn’t understand and book recommendations regularly. 
But that’s not to say that losing his maternal figure on the team, the woman who he’d connected with the fastest out of any BAU member, who had understood him in a way no-one else could, who loved and cared for him like a son, doesn’t stab him in the gut. 
He’d take a bullet for absolutely everyone on the team, but he hadn’t taken a bullet for Alex out of some misguided loyalty to a coworker or because she was a member of the BAU, he’d taken a bullet for her because she was the best person he knew, and - plain and simple - some inner, more primal instinct within him wanted to save her life. And she’d stayed with him at the hospital, a little due to her guilt, a little due to her seeing Ethan in him, but mostly because she loved him. 
And he loved her. So seeing her walk down those stairs and knowing she wouldn’t walk into the bullpen the next morning - no matter how much he knew that this was the right thing for her to do - left him feeling hollow again, a little broken, a lot sore. He missed her deeply, both because she was an amazing asset to the team, but also because she’s a beautiful person who brought sunshine to his gloomy world. She had an indescribable talent for making him happy, and he felt her absence in his every-day life bitterly.
Although she’s still around, she still finds ways to brighten his day, still has some creepy telepathic ability to know when he’s down and exactly how to make him feel better, it’s another loss to add to the many he’s somehow managed to have collected over the years. And he can’t seem to tell the grief in his heart any different. 
At least this time it can be temporarily alleviated by a text message. It’s more than he could have asked for, really. 
The Gradual Intertwining (>)
+1 Derek
He falls in love with Derek like the kind of slow and steady drizzle that’s almost indistinguishable from heavy mist; so easily confused for the ordinary, familiar platonic feelings he’s harboured for years. It’s because of this that he doesn’t put up an umbrella, he continues walking as he’s gradually soaked in deep, entrenched yearning, until one day, he finally realises it’s raining. 
It’s on the morning of Rossi’s 60th birthday party that it finally clicks and, suddenly, it’s obvious. He let Derek carry him to bed last night after he fell asleep watching a movie, for God’s sake: he’d even woken up on the way but faked it just so he wouldn’t put him down. He’s known for years that a 187 IQ doesn’t mean his emotional intelligence is excellent, too, but this feels ridiculous even for him. He’s practically been in a relationship for years and he had no idea. This must be why he always got that strange feeling in his stomach when Derek talked about literally anybody else.
This is not an ideal realisation to come to when Derek is currently cuddled around him, about to wake up any minute. Spencer tries very hard not to think about the fact that he won’t blink an eye at their entwined limbs and what that means, but he’s not exactly in control of his thoughts right now. 
He feels like he sleepwalks through the morning, trying to pay attention to what Derek talks to him about as he cooks him breakfast, but his mind has sort of short-circuited, not knowing how to adapt to this new information. His brain is not equipped to process being in love, and zoning out is as good a coping mechanism as any for now. It’s not until they head back to the bedroom to get dressed and ready for the day that he snaps out of it.
“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says loudly, clicking his fingers in front of Spencer’s face to get his attention. 
“Hm?” Spencer hums, feeling the world fade back into focus despite the haze of confusion still dizzying him somewhat. 
“Alright, you’ve been spacy with me all morning,” Derek says, shifting his weight slightly as he levels Spencer with an inquisitive gaze. He can’t help but feel a cool kind of dread pour down his spine at the idea of that look figuring him out. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, sorry,” Spencer says, forcing himself to snap back into action as he attempts to compartmentalise. “Just… didn’t sleep well, I guess.”
Derek looks doubtful but takes him at his word. “Okay,” he acquiesces. “Better get dressed, though. We’ve got a lot to get through today.”
“We do?” Spencer asks, ignoring the fact that he’s still stood in his ratty, oversized shirt and underwear in front of the man he’s deeply in love with, maybe for the sake of his sanity, maybe because he finds it hard to be embarrassed in front of Derek Morgan, not after all these years. 
“Yeah,” Derek says, like it’s obvious, “we gotta run to the grocery store and pick up a present for Rossi - probably some food for this barebones apartment of yours, too - pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners, and swing round Penelope’s to give her the blender I borrowed back. And I know for a fact you have some work to do on your latest paper, as well.”
Spencer, with his new perspective on the situation, considers the fact that Derek has included him in errands that are pretty exclusive to his own life. He also considers the fact that he never would have stopped to think this odd if he didn’t have the knowledge he has now. Unfortunately, simply considering does not shed much light on the situation. 
Because of this, Spencer does what he’s always done. He nods and gets ready for his day of driving around with Derek doing very mundane chores and wonders why he feels so excited. 
(While they’re out and about, it strikes Spencer why the realisation that he’s in love with Derek feels so paralysing: almost everyone he’s ever loved has left. He’s 34 and he’s never had a loving, committed relationship, and that’s for a reason: there’s only so much grief one heart can take. How could he ever give himself over to someone, hand them the key to his heart, open the door into his life, knowing that they could leave? Forever simply doesn’t exist, not for Spencer anyway. And truly, he doesn’t think he’d survive the loss of Derek, he can’t think of anything in the world that would be more painful.)
Despite the emotional exertion of the day, Rossi’s party is actually fairly enjoyable, probably aided by the glass of wine Spencer had accepted immediately upon entering the garden, he bloody well deserved it after the day he’s had. He gets chatting with JJ and Hotch and he barely even notices the absence of Derek by his side, having been roped into a conversation with Rossi and one of his famous poker friends that Spencer wouldn’t be able to place with a gun to his head. 
It’s not long before they reconvene though, programmed with some kind of homing instinct that always leads them back to one another, and Derek’s leaning a bit too close. Spencer finds it a little hard to breathe with his body pressed so close to his own, Derek’s warm, wine flavoured breath on his ear making his insides flip and setting butterflies free to roam his stomach. 
They spend the rest of the party like that, pressed away together in a corner, tucked inside one another’s pockets, and Spencer knows that he’s responsible for at least half of the instigation: he’s pressing back against Derek’s side with just as much pressure, leaning in closer, laughing a little louder, not bothering to hide the adoration that must be plainly written across his face. 
“Wanna come back to mine for a drink?” Derek asks as the night draws to a close, and how can Spencer refuse? They spend more nights together than apart at this point, and the last thing he wants is to feel lonely tonight, not after today.
“Please,” is all he says.
No-one says anything when they leave together, Derek’s hand loosely placed on his lower back. 
Derek’s apartment is warm and tidy, the opposite of Spencer’s, but it feels just as much like home as his own when he steps over the threshold. He’s about to tell him just that, but as he turns around to face him, Derek’s looking at him in a way he’s never seen before and his breath catches.
“Spencer?”
“Yeah?” 
Derek steps a little closer, crowding into his space even more. “Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.
Spencer doesn’t bother answering, instead closing the gap on his own and pressing his lips to Derek’s. His hands go to Derek’s side on instinct but as he kisses back, Spencer feels one hand tangling itself gently in his hair, and another cupping his jaw and he gives way, melting into the touch. The whole thing goes right to his stomach, feeling it bottom out as the intensity of the moment threatens to overwhelm him before a small sound escapes Derek’s lips and he’s reminded who’s kissing him, whose hands are on him, who’s making him feel these things. All of a sudden, it’s easier to let go.
Their lips mould together as they collapse into one another, the final piece of the gradual intertwining of their lives and bodies over the last twelve years. A fire lights under Spencer and he feels his world tilt on its axis, except unlike previous life-altering experiences, this time it feels like its tilting into place, as though he’s been off-kilter this whole time, finally returned to his natural state. 
“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this,” Derek whispers as they pull away.
“Why didn’t you kiss me sooner, then?” Spencer asks. 
“Today is the first day you knew you wanted it,” Derek replies, before he’s kissing him again. 
(Later that night, when they’re tucked into Derek’s bed, Spencer lies with his head on his chest, comforted by the steady, reassuring heartbeat as Derek whispers promises of forever into his hair. Spencer knows that nobody can ever really promise anything, but for the first time in his life, he decides it doesn’t matter. They’ll have to part some day, in one way or another - maybe Spencer will be the one to go first this time - but he realises that he’d rather have known Derek like this, to have known how it feels to love and be loved back, only to have him leave, than to have him stay and never know it at all.)
@criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii
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keanureevesisbae · 3 years
Text
The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 9
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Summary: Adelaide is back home again, preparing herself for her newest movie with David Castañeda.
Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)
Wordcount: 1.9k
Warnings: None
A/N: I wanted to add this to yesterday’s part, but I decided to give it a part of its own, since in my head, the chapter would be too choppy. After this only three more chapters 😭😭
Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter
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◎ ◎ ◎
When I earned my first million dollars, I bought a mansion for my parents, with elevators so my mom could be mobile and be everywhere in the house whenever she wanted.
The cab stops at the tiny roundabout I had built in front of the mansion and the driver helps me with my suitcases. ‘Thank you,’ I say with a quick smile, giving him a fifty dollar tip.
‘Are you sure, miss?’ he asks me.
‘Absolutely,’ I tell him. ‘Have a nice day.’
The front door opens and while the cab drives off, my dad rushes towards me. I’m nailed to the gravel, but tears still escape my eyes and roll over my cheeks.
I missed him so much.
‘Come here,’ he says, as he pulls me in his arms, engulfing me in one of the safest hugs in the world. No matter what happened, a hug from my dad always helps. When I scraped my knee when I was younger, when I didn’t get a part I really wanted and now.
A hug from my appa is sometimes the only thing that makes me feel a little bit better under shitty circumstances like this.
‘Appa, I’m so sorry,’ I whisper against his shoulder.
‘Don’t,’ he tells me. ‘You are here. I am here. Eomma and I love you very much, no matter what.’
He can’t be this sweet, not after what happened. ‘I screwed up.’
‘You did not.’ My dad holds my upper arms and forces me to look at him. He actually seems a bit pissed when he says: ‘He screwed up, not you. Never.’
I wipe my tears away, but the tap is open now, so they are replaced by others in a split second. He holds my hand tightly in his and pulls me inside, as we both carry a suitcase.
‘I’m happy you’re home,’ he tells me. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you too.’ And that isn’t a lie. I missed him dearly and holding his hand, brings me back tons of years ago, when I would hold his hand as he was wandering around the house, trying to ease his mind and not let his worries get to him. I barely took walks with him, so pacing around our tiny house, was the only time I could pretend we were like every other father-daughter pair: he would hold my hand as he guided me through life, my obstacles how significant or insignificant they seemed.
When I walk inside, I see my mom already waiting for me. I run towards her and hug her tightly. She presses a kiss on my cheek and says: ‘Where is this Henry? I have to see him, so I can run him over with wheelchair.’
I can’t stop my chuckle, but that chuckle turns into a soft cry. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I let you two down.’
‘You didn’t let us down,’ she says. ‘Henry Cavill did. I thought he was nice. Good for you. He is an idiot.’
‘Don’t,’ I start, but when I see the death glare my mom sends me, I quickly shut up. Besides, who do I think I am? Sticking up for Henry when a) he can’t even hear me and b) he hurt me badly and lied to me?
What on earth possesses me?
The entire flight I thought about it. About Henry and me. I can’t believe I was this blind, I totally fell for it and just believed him. This is obviously partially my fault of course. Hadn’t I done this, hadn’t I been this blind, I would’ve just become friends with him and then my heart wouldn’t have been severely broken like it is now.
My parents and I go to the kitchen and we prepare some tea. I talk to them about the show and how they enjoyed most parts of it. ‘It was good to see you like that,’ my father says. ‘You don’t have to be so private and serious all the time.’
I simply nod, not knowing exactly how to respond to it.
‘We love you,’ mom says, ‘and we always will, dasom.’
‘I love you too.’ My phone starts to vibrate on the counter and I look at the screen.
David?
‘I have to take this,’ I say and while I walk out of the kitchen, I pick up the phone. ‘Hi.’
David Castañeda sounds cheerful when he asks: ‘Hi, Adelaide, how are you?’
‘You honestly have to ask that?’ I mumble, before I go to the conservatory and plop on a couch. I look over at the backyard, where the sprinklers are on.
‘Stupid question,’ he says. ‘I’m terribly sorry. Thought Henry Cavill was a real nice dude, but this was pretty shitty. You want to be distracted? I have pretty exciting news.’
‘Please, tell me something fun. I could really need it..’
‘I got the part.’
It takes me a few seconds before I understand it. ‘You got it?’ I ask, a smile creeping up on my face. A new project means distraction and distraction means not thinking about Henry. ‘Oh my, are you serious? This is amazing.’
‘I know right, so just when I cut my hair short again, they told me to start growing it out,’ he chuckles.
I start to laugh, as I envision him as I close my eyes. ‘I can’t wait to see you again,’ I say in all honesty, because it’s true. I can’t wait to see him again. I know David and I know what an honest and lovely guy he is. I could open up to Henry, but he didn’t deserve it. David does deserve my honesty and I know the he will never betray me like that.
‘I can’t wait to see you,’ he tells me. ‘Production starts in two months, but I sure hope you and I can meet up before that? I mean, if that’s okay with you?’
‘That’s more than okay, David. I really want to catch up. I don’t have much to do, so I can  meet up and start binging season two of the Umbrella Academy.’
‘You still haven’t done that?’ He scoffs. ‘Deeply insulted, Adelaide Park.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, ‘but I have been pretty occupied these weeks.’
David sighs deeply, knowing instantly what I’m referring to. ‘I’m so sorry that this happened during a live stream. Are you okay, though?’
‘I’m fine,’ I lie, but I’m not even convinced by that myself, so I quickly add: ‘Well, I’m not, but I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Understandably so,’ he tells me. ‘I do have to go now, but I just had to tell you this. We’ll catch up soon, Adelaide.’
◎ ◎ ◎
Angela Bassett: Darling, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I spoke to Henry and while I understand you don’t want to talk to him, he really wants you to know he’s sorry.
Adelaide: You’ve been talking to him?
Angela Bassett: I have, yes.
Adelaide: Could you maybe tell him something from me?
Angela Bassett: Absolutely
Adelaide: That I don’t want to see him ever again, nor talk to him.
◎ ◎ ◎
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◎ ◎ ◎
It has been two weeks since the terrible livestream. However, I do realize how insanely lucky I am with my fans. The once prior and after the Celebrity Project. I read so many comments about how I didn’t deserve this and that I’m better off without him anyways.
I just had my first event after The Celebrity Project and the responses to it were so overwhelmingly positive, my heart simply swelled when I was reading them. Sure, people were tagging Henry in it and that made me pretty furious, but I feel like I can actually overcome this.
I walk through the park, staring at my phone screen. David and I are supposed to meet up and he shared his location with me, however I can’t seem to find him. According to the app, he should be on my right, but I don’t see him when I look up. When I stare back at the phone, the bubble indicating where he is has moved and is now somewhere else. I growl out of frustration.
Does it really have to be this difficult?
‘There she is,’ I hear a voice saying me behind me and when I turn around, I see it’s David. A smile breaks out on my face and I run towards him. When I wrap my arms around his shoulders, he pulls me close to his body. ‘I missed you, Adelaide.’
‘I missed you too,’ I smile and I let him go to take him in. ‘Oh my, look at you. Are you excessively working out again?’
‘Diego Hargreeves is supposed to have a very low body fat percentage,’ he tells me with a cocked eyebrow. ‘But, I have been doing absolutely nothing these past few weeks, as preparation for our movie.’ He holds out a cardboard holder with two paper cups in them. ‘I brought you an iced cappuccino with vanilla syrup, just the way you like it.’
He remembered… ‘You are amazing, David, thank you.’ We take a seat on a park bench and I look to the side. ‘What?’ I ask him, when he looks at me.
‘You look good.’
‘Don’t even start,’ I say, before taking a sip.
He must sense I don’t want to talk about the whole Henry thing. ‘Tell me something else then: are you excited for the movie?’
‘Of course,’ I say with a smile. ‘And they are going to bleach my hair soon.’
‘Ah really? I love this color.’
‘I do too, but the director has a very specific type of journalist in mind for this movie. Besides, I think a refreshing blonde is a nice contrast when it comes to your brooding character.’
‘Brooding is what I do best.’ David takes a sip of his drink and closes his eyes, as he soaks up the sun. ‘Is there anything you want to do in Switzerland?’
‘I heard there was a special class to learn to do the waltz. Maybe you and I can do that.’
‘Dancing with the Adelaide Park? Sign me the fuck up.’
I nudge him in the side. ‘You’re an idiot.’ Before he can be even slightly offended, even if it were fake, I smile. ‘Joking.’
He smiles. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about the Celebrity Project, but I do have to say something.’
‘Better make it quick then and I have to warn you: I don’t want to hear his name.’
He nods. ‘I just wanted to say that it was good seeing you like this. I have always wondered what you were like. I mean, I knew you were nice, but you were so serious from time to time, so private, even after filming for so long and doing interviews together. I get that it can be hard to open up, but knowing these things about you now, after watching the show, made me realize you have been putting on a brave face for way too long.’
I take another sip. ‘Well, I’ll try and do better.’
‘Don’t try and do better,’ he says. ‘Try and be yourself, because being yourself is better.’
‘Oh, how wise,’ I chuckle, rolling my eyes.
‘Should I write this down and post this with an inspirational picture on Instagram?’
‘To delete it twenty minutes afterwards?’ I slap his arm. ‘Hopeless, David, very hopeless.’
He smiles. ‘Just pinky promise me you can try to be honest with me. Practice being open and yourself around me, okay? I won’t judge.’ He holds out his pinky and I chuckle, when I hook my pinky through his and say: ‘Pinky promise.’
◎ ◎ ◎
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veiledsilver · 3 years
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Top five moments you've felt like the universe was messing with you.
Oh boy everyone get ready this is a long list. In descending order, from mildly funny looking back on it to "oh god oh shit oh fuck":
5. Catfishing: College Edition
In 6th grade, I decided to apply to colleges early to see how they were like. I was scared that if they knew I was too young, they'd arrest me. So I created a gmail account as my persona, a white 12th grader named Emilie Alexander. Emilie was planning to go into nursing, dating a high school linebacker named Kyle Kenderson, and deathly allergic to bee stings. If she even came near a bee, she would die.
This part was of the utmost importance.
See, I was constantly paranoid that one day, the jig would be up- I might forget that my fake last name was Alexander. Or the college dean might come knocking at my door and tear up my home in his mad search for Emilie. If that happened I would fake her tragic death, presumably caused by one big fucking bee.
I secretly collected my information. What nearby states were the prettiest to visit. Which colleges were the safest and most affordable. How often they held courses that I liked. In my emails with colleges I tried to sound as mature and professional as possible.
Then, one day, a college member asked me what high school I was in, so they could check my records.
My blood froze.
It was time to bring out the bee.
In response to their question, I sent an email that was like this:
"Dear Mr. McLaughlin, I was a proud graduate of- ugh! Ah! Kyaaaa! Uwaa! W-w-what's this... huge goddamn bee doing here?! Eek, pardon my foul language! It's just that, as I told you earlier, being stung by a bee would kill me.... and now it's stung me thrice (three times)!!
What do I do?! I can't die... I've always wanted to attend your beautiful college...
But this is... the end...
Mr. McLaughlin...
*looks at you sadly*
Tell... my mother... I loved her...
*dies*"
He never responded, probably because he was rendered speechless, but I never touched that account again.
My private gmail for fun stuff like tumblr still has "Alexander" as a surname, though.
4. Wild and Authentic
Alright. Alright. So. My art teacher in middle school.
Right off the bat, they endeared themselves to the tumblr art kids- they proudly used they/them pronouns, dyed their hair vibrant colors, deeply encouraged OC creation, and was chill with any art style even if it was anime. Mx. Mason was very cool, except for one thing.
We had complete artistic freedom when it came to their assignments, EXCEPT FOR ONE THING.
Drumroll, please.
Take a deep breath if you must.
Ready?
...
Cats had to have extremely distinct whisker pores.
YES, they believed that modern depictions of cats were too streamlined. Too... idealized. As a cat owner themselves, they were convinced that society's vision of cats did not do their feral feline ancestors justice. In making their faces flawlessly smooth-furred, we were stripping the cat of its true nature.
I found this out the hard way, when I was drawing warrior cats fanart for class (it was of Firestar cuddled in the arms of an orange haired anime catgirl who was his reincarnation in my first ever comic series, Warriors Neko Desu! ♡ Heart Academy Dokidoki).
Mx. Mason came over to look at my magnum opus, and I expected them to have their socks knocked off at my artistic talent. They lifted up my drawing for all to see, and I smugly leaned back in my seat.
Only for them to launch into a passionate lecture about how, in neglecting to draw whisker pores on cats, I was DENYING THIS FICTIONAL CAT OF ITS WILD AUTHENTIC SELF.
My friends absolutely lost it when I told them this story, and there was a period of time when all our discord nicknames were wild and authentic too.
As for Firestar and his counterpart Hoshineko Orenji-chan, I never did give them wild authentic whisker holes, but that's to be expected of a kittypet, I guess.
3. Stan Jungkook Or Whatever
A couple years ago, my family and I flew to Seoul, South Korea, to visit our relatives and teach me more about my heritage. It was very nice! I got to visit shrines and festivals and palaces, and I was in awe that this was what my ancestors had once seen in their daily lives.
Then, when we went to the modern side of Korea, I realized just how much I didn't fit in.
It was clear that I didn't know how to act, or how to speak Korean, and I spent my days fumbling around and getting scammed multiple times by salesmen. But I clowned myself the most... during an interactive event with kpop stars.
They had this experimental event where holograms of the boys would sing onstage and dance in place of the actual idols. Before the show began, girls could stand in booths that scanned their appearances, and holograms of THEM could dance onstage with the hologram boys.
I didn't know this.
When Cousin Ae-cha told me to step inside one of the machines, I thought I'd be hilarious and stand backwards, so it would scan the back of me instead of my front. As I walked out, I saw other girls putting on their best makeup, cutest clothes, and most expensive accessories, and I slowly realized that I was in danger.
But the danger didn't come until halfway through the concert, where the boys looked eagerly off-stage and a holy staircase appeared and all the hologram girls descended from heaven. There were cherry blossoms. There were roses. There was me, among the crowd of beautiful airbrushed girls, walking backwards.
I felt the judgemental gazes of twenty girls and their mothers.
Each boy danced with a girl, who got a cute animated moment with special effects, and sang about how they found a dream girl to have a true love romance with. Finally, all the girls vanished except one, and it was me.
One of the boys didn't dance with any girls, and now he was all alone in the rain, feeling dejected that HE did not find his true love girl to have a dream romance with. Then the rain stopped, the sun came out, and I emerged. Still backwards.
He was thrilled and sang about how my face (that he didn't see) stole his heart, and now everyone in the audience was giggling, and he slowly brought me very close to kiss me... but because I was backwards, his nose was cutely nuzzling my hair.
The audience members- at least the adults- were now laughing their asses off. His lips met the back of my head, and together we vanished into the wind.
I'd say I couldn't show my face there ever again, but I never did show my face, so... hm...
2. Horrid Little Temptress
If I wasn't a minor, I'd need a drink before starting this story. Sadly, I cannot drown my sorrows- and neither should you after you hear this, because it's only fair.
Mrs. Appleby was my Spanish teacher in like, 9th grade. Even the wild and authentic art teacher thought she was insane. Appleby forced kids to brew tea for her and yelled at them when they didn't get it right, and I thought she had a chronic squint until I realised she just did that to mock me and my Asian eye-folds. She forced us to watch Dora the Explorer to "absorb knowledge." Everyone fucking hated Mrs. Appleby.
But the worst thing she ever did... was during the school festival.
See, whenever she's angry, she zooms right into kids' faces to scream at them. Her wrinkled flesh would blot out the goddamn sun and all you see are her bloodshot yellow eyeballs so victims just stayed rooted to the spot like cornered animals or something similar. This is important.
Because when she was sampling her own brownies (read: hoarding them so no one else could eat them), one parent foolishly decided to grab one and she thought it was a student and she grabbed his wrist so hard she could've nearly snapped it and... and... zoomed into his face.
Except she underestimated his height and kissed him by accident, but it was more like her mouth was sucking in his face like a vacuum.
His wife was shrieking like an ape. His kid, my classmate, saw his social life flash before his eyes.
In her defense, she did not mouth to mouth with him on purpose and afterwards she cried in the bathroom and when I foolishly followed her in to comfort her, because I am a teacher's pet through and through, she snatched the paper towels I got for her and wailed that she was a-
A-
HORRID LITTLE TEMPTRESS.
If I had decided to not be kind, I never would've heard that string of fucking words. But I did. And I paid for it dearly. The end.
1. Violence IS The Answer, Sometimes
Thomas, my dearly detested.
Back in sixth grade, I used to have a crush on him because he had the surfer boy look with nicely tanned skin and pale blond hair and the clearest aquamarine eyes I've ever seen. He also liked surfing and swimming. He seemed like the perfect little trophy waifu except for one absolute dealbreaker.
He and his parents were extremely conservative and so, when I told him I liked him, his response was basically "haha no you're a [slur] and would probably eat my dog."
I was horrified and ran away to cry. But then, by the next day, I decided I needed to punish him. Thomas walked in before class started and I was waiting for him with these hands. I kicked him so he doubled over, slammed his face into his chair's seat, and quickly clambered on top of him to SIT ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD. He started shaking and twitching and trying to pry me off, but eventually he went limp and stopped moving.
I thought he fell asleep, but Mohammed, another classmate who was bullied by Thomas, told me that Thomas might never wake up again (not that he was very sad about this. I didn't know until later, but Thomas said slurs at him too).
While I was sitting on the guy, he'd straight up passed out from the lack of oxygen.
Screaming and crying, I told our homeroom teacher that Thomas suddenly fainted, and she was the type of Caucasian that thought all little Asian kids were sweet and innocent, so it didn't even cross her mind that? It might've been me? Who sat on his head when she walked in?
He was sent home early that day. I had to go to a different school next year because Thomas's mom threatened legal action. The only reason I didn't get punished further was because my rich cousins out-Karen'd her and donated a huge amount of money to the school to keep them quiet.
Anyway, I never did anything that insane ever again, because something like that is enough for a lifetime. My cousins made it clear they would never back me up again. I was sure this whole event would be put behind me, too.
But last fall, during my first day of online learning... who did I see in my zoom meeting... BUT THOMAS! I had my mic and camera off, but the moment he saw my name, his face went pale. His soul would've left his body, but then it would've gone to hell, so it wisely decided to stay inside.
Still, out of shame and embarrassment, I never turned my camera on for the rest of the school year.
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iwajima · 4 years
Text
i love you both. (daichi x f. reader)
summary: your boyfriend iwaizumi is distraught when he loses agaisnt karasuno, but you also want to congratulate your best friend daichi
warnings: fem!reader, smut, deep throating, vaginal penetration, infidelity.
status/word count: unedited / 2.4k
A/N: hi this is my first smut fic uhm.... yeah <3333 my requests are open btw!
No one would’ve thought that Seijoh would lose to Karasuno, the forgotten powerhouse. It was a surprise when mere first years displayed incredible skill, that even shocked Oikawa. The matches were toe-curling, for certain. When you felt lady luck slowly to turn to Karasuno, your immediate thought was to observe Iwaizumi and how you were going to be there for him if Seijoh were to lose.
And they did.
You feel his shaking form that sent chills up your back as you hear his constant sobbing and whimpering. You’ve never seen Iwaizumi like this, he’s always been a comforting and funny boyfriend to you, who keeps up a hard demeanour whenever he’s out in public. Seeing him curled up and huddled against you, pierced your heart. It was like he’d been broken to a million pieces. Of course to you, it didn’t make sense why he’d be so upset over not going to nationals, because he could easily get into a v-league team in the future and play bigger name tournaments. But to Iwaizumi, it wasn’t about winning. He wanted to make his last year a year he didn’t want to regret. He wanted to see his friends enjoying what they enjoyed together and being happy.
“Hajime… I won’t be here when you wake up. I’m sorry I can’t stay with you.” You whispered ever so softly, that made his heart churn even more.
Eventually, the crying stopped and his breathing evened out. He was inconsolable for two or more hours, you were glad he finally got some rest. After giving him a kiss on the forehead, you get up to head home. Looking back at his tear stained cheeks and red nose made you want to stay by his side forever, and cradle him back to his previous emotional state. However, a text from Daichi made your mind conflicted.
Sawamura-kun
11:23pm
Coming over?
Daichi had been your childhood friend. You’d been neighbors since you were in diapers and pretty much had your firsts together. From your first bike ride without training wheels to your first cigarette you both stole from your parents. Even your first time having sex.
You contemplated hard before your mind said, you’ve been best friends for eighteen years, surely a simple congratulations wouldn’t hurt.
The lights at his house were all off except for the porch light and the light in his room that you could spot through the curtains.
You
11:45pm
Open up Captain
A few seconds go by before you hear the padding of feet on wood flooring. Soon after the door opens. Before you could even say hello, he’d crashed his lips onto yours, hands cupping your cheeks. When he finally lets you go, your eyes widen in surprise as you let out a quiet laugh.
“Sawa-“
“I missed you.” He wasted no time in encasing you into a warm embrace. You could tell he had just taken a shower as the smell of his faint body wash invaded your senses.
You smiled and ran your fingers through his slightly damp hair. Guilt sometimes curses you for your infidelity and lack of self restraint, but what Iwaizumi doesn’t know can’t hurt him right? It was impossible for you to choose between them. You loved them both so dearly. Even though Daichi was aware of your relationship with Iwaizumi, you both somehow silently agreed that your friends with benefits situation was not going to end. Daichi certainly didn’t want to lose you, more or less even see you less due to you spending a lot of time with Iwaizumi.
You step into Daichi’s familiar bedroom, it hasn't changed much over the decades. Your sense of guilt and pride went out the window, when you saw his arm flex when he closed and locked his bedroom door. It doesn't take much for Daichi to turn you on. He’d always been your kryptonite.
“Sit on the bed, and take off your pants.” Your seductive voice was soft but loud enough for Daichi to hear. You slowly removed your shirt to reveal the pink lacy bra you always wear. Despite him seeing it many times before, the pink material still turned him on.
“Fuck...y/n,” He sighed when you grasped his pretty cock in your soft hands.
Your hesitation evaporate from your body when you feel him tremble under your fingers. The soft pecks along his cock made his mind be clouded with immense pleasure, that released all the stress he endured today. It was when you encased his tip in your warm and wet mouth, he let out a loud moan he didn’t want to release as his parents were down the hall.
Your taste buds have grown to love his bitter taste, swallowing that shit up whenever his cock would leak precum. The feeling of your tongue and cheeks dragging along his skin was so fucking addicting, it made his head feel dizzy. This was probably his twentieth time seeing you on your knees, sucking on his cock like a lollipop, and each time always felt like the first.
Sounds of wet skin echoed throughout his room. The sound was so lewd, it made him blush at the thought of your determination to make him cum. His sighs and moans drove you insane and made your ego even bigger. You loved the fact that he was putty between your fingers, making him feel like this was what made you feel powerful.
“My dirty girl- suckin on my cock like it’s candy…” He rasped, fingers stroking your hair before coaxing you to go deeper. You’ve taught your mouth to lose it’s gag reflex just to satisfy Daichi. After all, you were his good little girl friend.
“Good girl… Good fucking girl.” His praises made your pink panties be moistened by your arousal. Rubbing your thighs together, you desperately search for some sort of relief. If your hands hadn’t been on Daichi’s thick meaty thighs, you would have played with your throbbing clit. It was unbearable to see him like this and not touch yourself, but today is his day and the attention is on him.
You feel his cock twitch as his moans and whimpers go a little out of control. He tried his best not to shove your head down onto his leaking cock, you looked so innocent and cute trying desperately to ignore your aching jaw, all for him. The vibrations of your throat sent waves of butterflies in Daichi’s stomach when his tip registered your moans. He can feel the heat start to build up as he feels his release coming. You went deeper and faster when you see his abs flex, moaning even more to stimulate vibrations that made him tremble.
“Y/n s-stop I’m going to-” He didn’t want to ruin your throat even more, but his pleas went unheard when you only continued your ministrations, hands stroking his hard thighs.
He bit onto his hand to prevent him releasing a loud moan. He could feel his seed hit the back of your throat as you kept yourself deep-throated, nose hitting his pelvis. You eagerly swallowed what he had to offer like your life depended on it. The sight was sinful, he kept his eyes fixated on you as he came hard into your poor little throat. His cock was beyond wet, it was soaked from the mix of saliva and precum. A sore throat was an understatement, you were unsure how you were going to speak tomorrow but right now you didn’t care.
When you released his cock with a pop, you rubbed your cheek on his left thigh, looking up at his blissed out face through your lashes in adoration. His pants filled ears as you reached for his hand and inserted two fingers into your mouth. His cock was still not enough.
“Daichi-san you’re so pretty, can I please ride you?” You purr after wetting his fingers with your tongue.
You rise and settle yourself on his thighs. His arms instinctively wrapped themselves around your waist before he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. However, there was another one that made his jealousy bubble. You kind of smelt like your boyfriend.
“Of course pretty girl. Look at you, you’re so fucking wet for me.” A hand had slid into your panties before running the two wet fingers up and down your slit.
Your face turned into pleasure at his actions, grinding your hips to meet his finger’s rhythm. It was now you that was a whimpering mess. Daichi left soft kisses from your mouth to your neck, making your face heat up by the intent they had behind them. He always wanted you to know that you were loved whenever you two were doing intimate activities. You let out a silent scream when he circled your sensitive clit, arms tightening around his neck. Quiet whimpers filled Daichi’s ear when he added a finger before a second. Even though you were already drenching, you know better than to bottom out on Daichi without proper prep. He bit onto your bra strap and pulled it off your shoulders before doing it to the other, as his free hand went behind you to unclasp your bra.
His fingers immediately found themselves onto your perked nipples, tugging and rubbing them with his forefinger and thumb. This drew out rasped moans from you due to the three simulations he was giving you.
“Dai-chi-san… I need you, please-” You manage to say with your fuzzled mind.
He chuckles, “Anything for my baby.”
The phantom feeling of fingers pumping inside your cunt made you clench around nothing. Daichi placed himself flat on his back, his hand guiding your trembling body above him before securing them on your waist. You were shaking from him abusing your pussy with his fingers, to which he put those same ones into his mouth, tongue licking your arousal clean.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this, giving your Captain a congratulations.” He praised, running his tip along your slit over your panties, occasionally nudging your clit making your jaw fall and let out moans that were music to Daichi’s ears.
“P-please Daichi-san- I need your cock inside me…” Tears started to form in your eyes by your frustration.
“Be patient, baby. I’ll give you a nice, good fuck.” He moved your panties to the side, fighting the urge to rip it off.
As soon as his tip entered your tight cunt, you let out a loud moan to which Daichi shoved three fingers into your mouth in response. You were being such a good girl, immediately sucking on the fingers he gave you, your hands holding onto his wrist as you slowly bottomed out. The feeling of his tip nudging your cervix made your heart do summersaults. You slowly bounced yourself on his cock with his help, as he set the pace for you both. When he was sure you’d be quiet, he removed his fingers and placed his hands on your hips with a bruising grip. Your hands fall onto his toned chest as you lose yourself in euphoria.
“Shit, how are you still fucking tight. Doesn’t Iwaizumi fuck you?” A lewd thought of being penetrated by both your boyfriend and Daichi crossed your mind, making you whimper. No guilt or shame came when he said his name, instead it made you even more hornier.
The stretch felt so fucking good. The feeling of being fucked open made your brain short-circuit. His pace increased as he bounced you on his cock at a mouth-watering speed. The sound of skin slapping was not discreet at all, you both didn’t care if the whole neighbourhood heard or not. Each time you bottomed-out, your clit hit his pubes, the pain was pleasure for you. The way your tits bounced was a sight that was engraved into Daichi’s mind.
“D-daichi! I’m gonna’ c-come!” You whimpered.
“Let go pretty girl.” He tiredly smirked as a hand attached itself onto your breast, kneading it to give you more pleasure.
A few more thrusts and you’re gone. You swore your vision went white. Your cunt clamped down desperately around his cock, making him grunt. Your whole body was in ecstasy, cunt milking his cock to get it to release his warm cum. The way your face looked was so pretty. The way you cream around his cock made his dick throb even more.
His thrusts grow more sloppy as he feels his second release building inside him. The idea of his cum invading your womb made him go crazy, but he can’t do that just yet. You lick your fingers before rubbing them against his nipples in hopes to increase his pleasure. He grunted even louder at the stimulations.
“Ah- fuck..!” Just before he could release into your tight little cunt, he took his cock out, releasing white all over your stomach.
You were being painted with his cum and you loved it. You took a finger and swiped some onto it, before popping it into your mouth and moaning at the taste. Daichi was panting hard as he looked up at you with hazed and tired eyes. The scene almost made him want to cum again.
“Y/n you’re so good to me, I don’t deserve an obedient girl like you.” He pulled you down for a longing kiss before getting up to get a damp towel to clean you both.
As much as he wanted to keep fucking you and praising how good you are, he felt slumber beginning to creep up onton him. When he saw you get up to get dressed he grabbed your arm, face full of confusion.
“Hey, where are you going?” He said, raising a brow.
“Home.” If you left Iwaizumi, you had to leave him too. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair.
“No, you’re staying with me” He pulled you towards him, making you drop your clothing.
“But-”
“No buts, I know you’re tired, come get some rest.” You didn’t even put up a fight because of your fatigue. You let him win as he pulled you into his bed, covering your naked body with his blanket. The warm feeling of skin on skin made you content.
You hadn’t been with him like this ever since you dated Iwaizumi a few months ago. You always made sure it was a quickie before leaving hastily after, so you forget and the guilt doesn’t have enough time to grow. The feeling of being this close to him again made your heart warm, it was wrong but it also felt right.
“Y/n, I’m sorry for making you do this.” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead as his hand stroked your hair. “I understand if you wanna stop, I see how upset and conflicted you get when we go behind his back. But just know that I’ll always be here.”
He whispered sweet nothings until you fell asleep. He missed how your eyes started to water because of how much you loved both Daichi and Iwaizumi and how you didn’t want to hurt either of them. But it’s far too late, that damage has already been done.
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flipomatic · 4 years
Text
Closed Book Chapter 1
Author Note: Here I go, off into a new fandom. This is going to be 4 chapters, I think. I have it all blocked out but am writing it as I go.
Summary: She didn’t know much about Mittens at all, when she thought about it. Sure, she knew she was a star student who got good grades, though not as good as her siblings, and had a surly streak, but what were her interests besides reading? What kinds of food did she like? Did she have a crush on a witch in her class? Emira should’ve been able to answer these questions, but she couldn’t. Maybe she should ask, that might be a good place to start.
Or
5 times Emira tried to get Amity to open up and one time when she didn't have to.
______________________________________
Emira would’ve loved to put all the blame for what happened at the library on Ed, but it had been her idea too. Sneaking into the library after hours, inviting Luz to come along with them, planning to steal Mittens’ diary to post the pages around school; Emira had helped plan each step. One even could say she masterminded it, but she didn’t want all the blame.
Even though the plan didn’t fully come to fruition, she still got a good laugh at Mitten’s expense in the end. The whole adventure cost her and Ed dearly when they got home. If only she could’ve just blamed it on Ed, that would’ve made things much easier.
The entrance way of the house was quiet when the twins slipped in, as expected for this time of day. Most members of the family would be still asleep in the wee hours of the morning. Almost all lights were off in the mansion, all except the study in the rear of the house. Emira assumed her father was up working early, since many days of the week that study light remained on all night. The only way to the stairs was past this room, which would’ve made it tricky to sneak in if the twins weren’t masters of illusion magic.
After Ed closed the door quietly, Emira signaled for him to follow her and then cast a low level camouflage spell. Ed followed suit as they crept towards the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The spell would only aid in being spotted, not in covering up any accidental noise.
It didn’t matter though, because nothing could get past their father.
“Edric. Emira.” His voice stopped the twins dead in their tracks, their camouflage snapping with a crackle as he stalled them right in front of the study door. “We require your presence.” He spoke evenly, his tone not giving away any clues of what was to come.
Emira didn’t need any clues, she knew what this was about. Ed clearly did too, as he shook his head rapidly and pointed rapidly at the stairs. He wanted to bolt for it. If Emira thought they could get away from it, she would join him.
But no, no matter how fast they ran they would never escape. Emira knew this and she knew Ed did too.
With a shake of her head, Emira pushed open the study door. While she expected to see her father there, she was surprised to see her mother and Mittens as well. Father sat at his desk, writing on a piece of paper in front of him. To the right there were a couple chairs for guests, where the other two sat.
Their mother was dressed in a bathrobe, which gave Emira a twinge of guilt as her mother may have been sleeping before all of this. It was quite early in the morning, after all. Mittens was frowning, as usual, as she watched her siblings enter the room.
Emira and Edric stopped just inside the door, closing it behind them. They waited with bated breath as their father stood up, casting his gaze over his elder children.
“Would either of you like to explain what happened tonight?”
Ed grit his teeth next to her. “We were just teasing, Mittens needs to lighten up. We didn’t even get to read it.” His hand twitched at his side, but stayed there.
Emira backed his story up. “Yeah, we barely looked at her diary. We were just going to put it back anyway.” A little white lie to smooth things over never hurt. Mittens wasn’t buying it, based on how she had one eyebrow raised. Their father, on the other hand, looked quite irritated.
“So you are not aware then,” his voice rose in volume, “of what happened after you abandoned your sister at that library.”
“I’m sure she was fine.” Ed’s smile was clearly forced as he tried not to buckle under the pressure. Emira nodded alongside him.
This was the wrong response.
“She was almost killed by one of the creatures you created.” Her father’s voice was like a judge’s gavel, banging guilty. Emira felt the blood drain from her face.
It was all in good fun, they had never meant to actually harm Mittens. It looked like she had made it out unscathed at least. Again, her father looked between the twins, casting judgement upon them. “If not for her quick thinking, Amity might not have come home.”
That was odd, why not mention Luz? Emira thought the other teen had stayed behind to talk with Amity. Certainly she would’ve been caught up in this as well, but her father didn’t seem to know of her. Did Mittens hide her presence from him?
Ed came through again, “We were just having fun.” He persisted in the defense, lightly elbowing Emira and refocusing her on the conversation. “And we didn’t think anything there was dangerous.”
“That’s right.” Emira lifted her chin. “It was harmless fun.”
“Well, whether you believe that or not, the fact is the two of you brought serious harm upon your sister.” Her father seemed done with listening to their excuses. “You will apologize, and you are grounded for the next month. You will only be permitted to leave the house to escort Amity. Am I clear?”
Emira hung her head forward as she and Ed responded in unison. “Yes sir.”
Her father didn’t seem satisfied, as he gestured towards Mittens with one hand. “And?” he prompted them.
“I’m sorry…” Ed said quietly, trailing off at the end.
“Me too. I’m sorry Mittens.” Emira brought her gaze back up to meet Mittens’, a blank expression meeting hers.
“Thank you.” Was all Mittens said, in her usual tone.
Her father nodded once. “Good then.” He turned back towards his desk. “If you hurt your sister again or bring more shame upon this family, you will never see the light of day again.” She knew him well enough to know he would make good on that promise.
Emira and Ed both muttered that they understood.
“You are dismissed.” Her father sat back down at his desk, picking up his pen to resume whatever he had been doing when they arrived.
All three teens slipped out of the office, shutting the door behind them.
They walked in silence up the stairs, out of their parent’s earshot. Once they reached the peak though, all bets were off.
“Why’d you tattle on us?” Ed immediately turned on Mittens, his lips pulled into a distinct frown.
Mittens crossed her arms, “You had to be stopped.” She had to look up to make eye contact with her siblings. “Otabin tried to kill me!”
“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?” Emira cut in; Otabin was a sweet little rabbit he wouldn’t do something like that.
Mittens stomped one foot. “Yes I’m sure.” She seethed. “He had big claws and he tried to sew me into a book so I would be his friend forever!”
“We were just having fun.” Ed said in response, but Emira couldn’t really hear it. What Mittens said finally clicked in her mind. Ed had drawn the claws on that rabbit. When Luz dropped the book they assumed it was closed, apparently they should’ve checked better. They really had almost killed their little sister.
“I’m sorry we left you alone with it.” Emira interrupted whatever Mittens was saying in response, drawing two surprised stares to her. “And it won’t happen again.” Neither of them had anything to say now; they just looked at Emira as if she had grown a second head. “I’m going to bed, so should you.”
Without waiting for a response, Emira brushed past the pair to go to her room. Once inside, she collapsed down onto her bed. The weight of what happened and what nearly happened that day pushed down on her shoulders.
Had she always been this bad of a sister? The answer was probably yes. She had teased and played pranks on Mittens since they were very young. It was like a hobby for her and Ed.
Well, no more of that. It was time to stop picking on her little sister, or at least pick on her a bit less, a very small bit less she still loved to tease her, and be a responsible older sibling. No more putting her in danger, especially not mortal peril like today. She also should try to protect her, though she wasn’t sure from what.
Emira wondered what kind of danger Mittens got in on her own, since most of the time she was off at school or doing uh… Emira didn’t actually know what Mittens did in her free time. What kind of trouble did she get into out there?
She didn’t know much about Mittens at all, when she thought about it. Sure, she knew she was a star student who got good grades, though not as good as her siblings, and had a surly streak, but what were her interests besides reading? What kinds of food did she like? Did she have a crush on a witch in her class? Emira should’ve been able to answer these questions, but she couldn’t.
Maybe she should ask, that might be a good place to start. Tomorrow could work, or next week since Mittens might not forgive so quickly.
With that simple plan in place, Emira went to bed with the conviction to be a better sister in her heart.
Even though she had been up all night, it took a very long time to fall asleep.
Chapter 2
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