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stay-midnight · 3 years

Text

Fun through Harsh Times

Kim Seungmin x Male Reader x Bang Chan

W.C: 4.8K Words

Triggers: Explicit Smut, Human Discrimination, Conflict at the end, Some angst too.

THINGS TO NOTE: Demigod AU!! Seungmin - Son of Athena, Chan — Son of Demeter, Hyunjin — Son of Nemesis, Changbin — Son of Hades. Human Reader

Kinks/Warnings: Dom/Top Seungmin, Switch/Verse Reader, Sub/Bottom Bang Chan, Anal Sex, Unprotected Sex (make sure to cover the d to prevent std~), Buttplugs, Cuckolding, Daddy Kink, Master Kink, Use of Vines, Seungmin has a big dick, Degradation, Punishments, Usage of a different petnames, Biting, Mutual Masturbation, Lots of Cum, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Crying, Nipple Play, Ass Slapping, Use of Abilities and Powers during Sex, Bruises, Rough Sex, Soft Aftercare.

A/N: my works are getting longer I- and ooh~ this is my second? third? fic this month omg hshshsh. Also, I reread this alot of times to make sure it's okay cuz i didn't like it's based form so i had to rewrite and add new things. 💀💀, anygays hopefully you guys like this! oh and after the changbin fic which I may start writing at the 20th, in June i may open requests! this time though, ill accept three to not stress myself 💀.

You carefully remove the bread from the oven as to not burn yourself, looking at the clearly displeased customer at a call at how slow-paced you were working. You finally placed the bought breads at a plastic bag, handing it to him with a fake smile.

“Sorry, the dumb fucking human was too slow.” The customer spoke to the phone loud enough for you to catch as he walked away in a bad mood.

You sighed tiredly, remembering the amount of discrimination you received after living here for these past few months.

When Seungmin asked you to live with him and Chan at the island, you were ecstatic since you thought it would be amazing to move in with your boyfriends.

All your expectations were shut down as soon as the demigods that lived in the island clearly were not happy with you arriving. The constant murmurs and the glares were enough to tell you so.

Though, Seungmin and Chan didn't know how badly people treated you in the bakery.

You didn't wanna burden them as you were already thankful of living with them.

Changbin was there in the bakery with you anyway, if someone gets too harsh on you Bin was always there to scare them away.

Changbin was scary at first when you started working with him, when you found out he was Hades’ son — you were extremely careful to not get sent to the underworld. As time passed by, you found out he was extremely soft, so you became good friends with the man.

You blink tiredly as you picked up your bag and hauled it over your shoulder, before placing the "close" sign outside and bringing down the metal bars.

“I’m heading home now Binnie!” you shouted to the male at the back that was arranging boxes. You remove your apron, seconds later before fixing up your shirt and brushing your hair off your face.

“Bye! Stay safe on the way home, Y/N!” Changbin shouted back before groaning loudly and loud thud sound. You were about to check on him before he shouted again.

“I’m okay! Stupid box just fell..” he said out. You chuckle and slowly moved away.

“Be careful more, Bin!” you said back, before finally taking your leave with a last okay, bye! from him.

. . .

You sighed as you continued walking back to where you’re residing in — Seungmin’s mansion.

Seungmin has many times told you that you didn't need to work or and he could send a driver to pick you up. You rejected both offer, since you wanted to work and atleast help pay for your food. You also rejected the offer about the pick-up driver, opting to walk home instead.

Humming as you scrolled through the social media on your phone, you continuously walked to the direction of the place you called home with a smile on your face as you read through the cat posts.

You looked around a bit and caught the looks of disgust on the face of the nearby citizens causing you to freeze — before slowly moving again, trying to ignore them.

“What’s with them against humans anyways.” you whisper lowly as you try to ignore them, a slight pang shot through your heart, sad when you heard something.

“What did Athena’s son see in him anyways, he already has Demeter's boy. Why bring a human into the mix.” A lady near you harshly whispered.

You bit your lips trying to contain your flaring anger at her — trying to relax your nerves that was begging to have a go at her, just so you could finally arrive at the house.

. . .

You sighed in relief at the sight of the mansion gate, before even tapping the doorbell — you were greeted by the sight of the most beautiful emerald eyes, smiling brightly with dimples shown.

“Y/N~!” said male shouted in an excited manner, he looked as pretty as always and you just can't help falling for him like the day you first met.

All invasive thoughts left your mind at the sight of your bright and caring lover.

“Hi Channie~” you greeted as the gates slowly retracted to the side, removing the barrier between both of you. He ran to you and threw himself at you to which you caught him happily.

He then wrapped his arms around your neck and kissed you in a endearing way. “Where is Seung?” you ask after a bit, taking a peek at the front garden.

He let out a frown before grabbing your hand and led you through the path, “He.. He... still hasn't returned.. It’s been four days.” Chan said in a melancholic tone, his once bright eyes dimmed in sadness.

You look at him before taking notice that the plants at the sides were drying up and water was coming out of them. You frowned at the sight of it and continued as Chan led you inside.

“Chan... Seung has a lot of duties, he—” you waved your hand away at the maid entering with food to which she nods and leaves before continuing, “He has a lot on his shoulders especially dealing with the rebels, okay?” you reassured him, gently patting his head that was hung low.

Chan nodded understandingly before turning to you and leaning closer for a kiss on the lips to which you happily obliged — kissing him dearly.

“So no more, moping around. He wouldn't want that would he?” you smiled at him to which he nods at your words and gave you a lovely smile.

“He wouldn't..” he trailed off before climbing on to your lap to which you held him, you were still loving the fact that despite Chan being older than you and Min, he is the cutest.

Sure, Seungmin is cute as well but he has that scary side of him which leaves everyone shaking.

You buried your face on the neck of your lover and sighed. Chan smelled like flowers — fresh flowers to say the least, which calmed your nerves a bit. Chan giggles at you tickling his neck with your breath to which you cooed slightly.

A knock was heard from outside the door on the room you were both in, “Come in!” you said loudly for the person to hear.

A guard suddenly opened the door, “Sire’s.” he bowed deeply, “Uh, Sir Seungmin is coming home later at around an hour or so..” he said, pressing his lips to a thin line at the silent air he got and the stares from both of you.

The guard looked at you with a frown before smiling at the sight Chan. You looked at him with a saddened look to which he took note off, clearly trying not to scoff.

Chan also was suspicious at how the low demigod looked at you differently, Chan immediately raised his eyebrows at the guard

“He just wanted to let both of you know..” the guard quickly stated before leaving and shutting the door quickly due to the awkward tension he felt.

Chan bursted in a happy frenzy when the man left as he launched himself to hug you.

The flowers at the table suddenly bloomed after Chan’s was excited.

Chan slowly climbed off your lap and sat on the bed — he turned to you before raising both his eyebrows in a teasing

Then Chan smirked at you seconds later, his mind whirring thoughts. “Wanna give him a surprise?” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in demeanor — This was the Chan that teased both you and Seungmin in bed, the Chan that always had bratty plans in mind — the Chan that loved to be punished by Seungmin.

You nod without even knowing what will happen — little did you know about what’s Seungmin is gonna do to both of you later.

. . .

You look at Chan as if he was a crazy person, “Chan, are you sure? You know how Seung is when we start things without h-him?” you said in shock at the idea, shivering and stuttering at the thought when Seungmin caught both of you fucking without him. Let’s just say neither Chan or you could sit properly for days.

He tilted his head and smiled, “Cmon, Y/N.. It’ll be fun! Plus, he left us hanging for four days.” you look at Chan before sighing in defeat.

You knew Seungmin was just doing his job as Athena’s Son so Chan’s reason wasn't justifiable to say the least. But how Seungmin punished both of you was really hot at that time.. And you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

“Fine...” you said — giving in to Chan’s request, even though knowing it was a scary and terrible idea. Chan held out his hand before a pink flower and with red edges at their pollens appeared.

“Is that one of your drug flowers, again Channie?—” you asked, looked at him confused. To which Chan giggled and nodded repeatedly.

Chan is a son of Demeter, meaning he has control over nature’s plants, he is one of the tender of green life in the island but usually he isn't on duty because there are other children of Demeter on this island. You didn't know though, that Chan could create special types of flowers that contain a drug or an effect in them when inhaling their scent. The first drug flower you saw was a grey flower — it makes people fall asleep fast.

“What is it?” you asks, eyeing the flower carefully, he grinned at you before saying, “Aphrodisiac.” he said, moving the flower closer to your face.

You look at him before covering your nose immediately, “Why?!” you said through your hand, not wanting to inhale more of its alluring scent.

A smirk was back on his lips, “Maybe it’ll make you hornier therefore, maybe you can fuck me rougher?” he said teasingly before withdrawing the dangerous drug from your face.

You let go of your nose and sighed, “You could just ask..?” He looked at you straight in the eyes as you finished your statement — Chan’s orbs glinting with arousal, the aphrodisiac flower in his hand slowly wilted to gray dust.

“Hm? Would you be rough with me then?” He purred, pushing you down the bed — his emerald orbs staring down to yours, He grinded his ass on your clothed cock in a teasing manner.

A grin was plastered on his face before you switched positions with him, his back hitting the bed softly. He gasped, clearly suprised with the action.

You had both of his hands pinned on top of his head in a heartbeat causing Chan to squirm against your grip, “You’re such a brat, baby~... And I don't like brats.” you said the last part with a glare. He whined before looking up at you with puppy eyes, to which you chuckled at.

“That won’t work Channie.” you said, biting his neck harshly — him releasing a loud moan at the pain, Chan was such a painslut — he got off to Seungmin’s punishments so you expected no less.

You slowly lowered Chan’s shorts that he was wearing. Smiling at the growing dark spot at the middle of his underwear. “Already leaking? What a slutty baby, I have~” You taunted, squeezing his growing erection as you pressed your own clothed bulge against his thigh.

Chan moaned loudly at what you said his dick hardening even more.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance at the clothes you were both wearing.

You made quick work of the clothes on Chan’s body and yours as well. You noticed that vines with pink roses had appeared at the corners of the room, to which you smiled at — it shows that Chan was extremely needy.

You look at Chan — bare as the day he was born, your eyes raked over his form — from his face that had a red hue to the, to his chest and those beautiful pink buds — and to his pretty pink dick that was leaking precum down to his balls. He was so beautiful — inside and out. Fuck, his delicate pale skin was very enticing to fill with marks.

You wanted to ravage this man in front of you and savour the pleasure.

Chan let out a whine, “D— Do something, master...” he said, to which you raised an eyebrow at the sudden nickname.

You never expected Chan to call you that, so you looked at him with widened eyes before regaining your composure and moved closer to Chan as you hovered over him.

You lift his legs up shortly, licking your lips at the puckered hole — already shining and wet. “You prepped yourself already?” You ask, softly touching the ring of muscles with your thumb — gently.

He nods repeatedly, rolling his hips down impatiently — wanting some form of penetration, “Stay still, dumb pup.” you said harshly before finally shoving two fingers at his wet hole immediately. Feeling his walls clench against your digits.

“M-Master, please.... Puppy don’t need more stretching, puppy just wanna be fucked.” He begged, a tear slowly falling off his red cheeks.

You hummed, acknowledging his request — you took a condom from the drawer to which he pouted before plants came out of your hands and snagged the condom away and back to the drawer. “No condoms please...” he said, looking at you with a pout.

You smiled and lined up your tip against his lubricated hole — you smiled at his babbling words at the pressure on his entrance.

You spread his legs further — almost bending him in half, you cooed at the sight of his leaking cock — dripping a lot against his abs. You then slowly sink in to the welcoming warmth, savouring how his walls spazzes around your size.

“Ah f-fuck, puppy...” you almost howled out as your hips hit his ass. Chan was so cute — his eyes stinging with tears as he let out small moans. His chest was heaving and red was spreading all over his chest.

“M-Master, move. move, p-please...” He whined out, pushing himself back on your cock. You grinned as you remember his request earlier about being rough.

You pulled out slowly, before snapping your hips back as you fucked him precisely but rough at the same time. His useless cock was now oozing with cum at the tip. “F— Fuck fuck fuck.” he chanted repeatedly with every snap of your hips, as he rolled his eyes back at the pleasure.

You see red at the sight of Chan moaning "Master" while also cursing at the same time. You grip his muscular thighs as you pull him back on your cock, thrusting up to him in sequence.

“Pup, I’m close... God, you feel so good around me..” Chan moaned in response as you leaned down to bite a pink nipple, the bud hardening against your teeth as he arch his back against you at the sensation.

You disconnected your lips from his perked bud so you could take a look at the beautiful man underneath you.

Chan looked so fucked out, his hair was disheveled and his green eyes were shining through his tears. You were almost proud at how much you fucked Chan dumb.

“Cumming!! Master, ah~” he sniffed as he felt his cock shoot out spurts of white, reaching up to his pec — decorating his chest in his white sperm.

His walls clenched around you in a tight grip as you let out a low moan of your own as you emptied yourself inside of him — filling him up as you gripped his hips in a bruising way.

Chan’s body were trembling from the aftershock of his orgasm, you pecked his lips and smiled as you look down at him, his chest heaving and sweat and cum mixing on his pretty skin.

“I’m pulling out Channie, is that okay?” You asked in a warm tone, softly brushing your hand through his hair to relax him.

“Plug..?” he breathed out as you nod before reaching out to one of the drawers and pulling out a medium-sized buttplug before slowly pulling out of him — placing the plug to keep Chan full of your warm liquid.

He sighed in relief and smiled at you to which you smiled back, “I’ll go get a towel to clean you up, alright?” you said before getting up and placing your boxers on.

He hummed in agreement as he just laid there a bit tired of the activities.

. .

You opened the door out the room to run to the bathroom before a voice behind you stopped you, “Had fun, Y/N?” the male voice said in a cold tone.

You turned back and saw Seungmin standing, leaning at the wall as he looked at you with deadly eyes. “You both started without me.” he said blankly before trudging towards you as you stood there with cold feet.

“Why don’t you tell me, love. Who wanted it more?” Seungmin whispered to your ear when he stood in front of you his hand trailing down to your ass before grabbing a cheek.

“I— I did.”

He slapped your ass firmly — a moan slipped out of your lips from that. His eyes flashed a dangerous pink hue before it returned to normal. “Do you think you could lie to me?” he hissed out.

“A-Ah... Channie did..” You gulped at the slight anger that was hidden in his voice.

“As expected.” he chuckled darkly before pulling on your arm, slowly dragging you back to the room.

. .

A sudden opening of the door, made the tired Chan jump up from the bed. His mouth opened in shock as Seungmin was there with a grip on you.

Seungmin wanted to coo at Chan’s expression but instead kept his act on.

“Sit on the bed.” he said referring to you, to which you complied to easily. He silently grabbed the bottle of lube at a drawer — yours and Chan’s eyes following his form as he does so.

Seungmin then removed his clothes with ease, you almost drooling at his large length to which you eyed like candy, to which Seungmin took notice and almost smiled — just barely stopping himself from doing so.

“Tie yourself up, puppy.” Seungmin said in a voice of authority to which Chan lightly whimpered at, he nods slightly before placing his hand above his head and against the headboard.

A gasp left your lips as vines started to wrap and thicken around Chan’s wrists, tightening up and securing Chan on the side of the bed.

It always shocks you when Seung uses that ability he was blessed with, "Voice of Authority" as the demigods call it. Whenever Seungmin uses it, most weaker demigods will get on there knees and comply but much stronger ones can resist it. Whenever Seungmin uses it on humans though, it gives him perfect control over them.

— Seungmin promised you he will never use it on you as he doesn't want to take away your free will.

Seungmin sat on the bed, grabbing you and placing you on his lap harshly before he moved you and himself so he could face Chan.

His cock was hardening on your back as he bit your neck softly, he looked at Chan with a smirk, “Tell me puppy, what did you call Y/N earlier again?”

Chan looked at you and whined as his cock started to spring up. “I c-called him, m-master...” he said, looking at Seungmin with puppy eyes as his hole clearly clenched around the buttplug.

Seungmin chuckled as he kissed your shoulder, “And who am I to you, pretty?” Seungmin whispered in your ears huskily, clearly noticing your cock straining against your boxers.

“D— Daddy..” you asked, embarrassed as you felt Chan’s gaze upon you, a gasp left you as Seungmin pulled down your boxers in one go, his hands trailing over your thighs.

He lifted you up a bit so that your hole was exposed to Chan and so that his hands could near it.

He popped the bottle of lube open, circling your rim with a wet finger. You let out a sigh of pleasure when a finger finally went into you, slowly — it wasn't enough though, you needed more.

Seungmin took your hips rocking as a go sign as another finger joined inside till it finally became three moments later, you were bouncing on his slender fingers now and Chan was watching all of this unfold with tired eyes but his cock that was standing provided enough that Seungmin knows that he is still needy.

“Want your cock, da— daddy..” you begged out in a high voice, wanting the man behind you to fully destroy you already.

Seungmin turned to Chan that was rubbing his legs together uncomfortably — in need of some sort of friction. “Look at your master being a pathetic cockslut, Channie~” he mocked you, to which Chan let out a short “M—Mmph~”

You whimper at what Seungmin had said.

Before he lifted you up and slowly brung you down on his large dick, your back flushed against his chest.

Chan moaned at the sight of your hole taking in Seungmin’s cock deliciously while you had drool dripping down your cheek at the amazing stretch.

Chan whined against his restraints as his cock leaked as much as it could.

You lay your head back on Seungmin’s shoulder as you panted in pleasure, Seungmin nuzzled his head on your shoulder before using his fingers to pulling at your nipples.

You moaned loudly when Seungmin shifted a bit causing his cock inside to prod your bundle of sensitive nerves.

Seungmin pulled you off his dick slowly before slamming you back down, causing you to let out a cry as your hole clenched around his girth repeatedly.

“Doing so good, baby.. You feel so tight around me, yeah? Well this is gonna be a long punishment isn’t it? Let’s if you can walk tomorrow, love~” He hummed, kissing the back of your ear as you let out whimpers of pleasure.

He then look at Chan who was still messy but pretty, “Don’t think you’re out of the punishment though, slut. You’re not gonna cum as you watch me destroy your cocksleeve of a master’s hole.”

Chan thrusts up into the air and whine in retaliation, with his mind set on one thing, wanna cum.

Seungmin then started a rough pace of thrusting up into you, chasing his own pleasure and using you as his very own fucktoy for your punishment.

. . .

You forgot now how long Seungmin was thrusting into you and rearranging your insides — how long he had speared you on his cock. You were on cloud nine the whole time so you didn't bother to take notice of the time.

But your body was aching from your third orgasm today and Seungmin hadn't even came yet — how the hell does he last so long.. Fuck. you wanted him to fill you up like how you filled up Channie earlier.

Speaking of Chan, you looked at him and saw him whining and writhing — hopelessly rubbing his thighs together. His muscles were flexing, the more he struggles.

White spots blinded your eyesight as you trembled, your tip spurting out little dribbles of cum as you moaned weakly. Your cock felt like falling off as the lewd squelching filled the room.

Seungmin was growling while marking your neck as every thrust of his, sends a dizzying shiver throughout your body.

“I’m close now, love...” He whispered to which you responded with a simple and short, “Want it inside..”

Seungmin chuckled deeply and wrapped his hands around your waist before thrusting up to you one last time and coating your walls in sticky white with a sexy groan — as you let out a weak moan at the wet sensation.

That was what it all took for you to collapse on the bed, your cheeks pressing into the warm mattress as you felt Seung’s cum dribble out your hole — down to your balls and wetting the mattress.

Seungmin licked his lips at the sight of your entrance loose, gaping and oozing with his cum.

Seungmin was also tired, so he grabbed Chan’s cock in his hand to jerk him off fast to which Chan came immediately with a howl.

“You can untie yourself now, Channie..” Seungmin said in a soft tone,, to then which the vines restricting his hands turned into dust immediately before Chan grabbed you softly and held you.

You look at Chan with droopy eyes, smiling at him dearly. Chan giggled before holding you tightly even though his body was sticky.

Seungmin had went out of the room to fetch some dry towels and water while also leaving his two lovers to cuddle with one another.

. .

“You okay, bubs? Minnie wasn't too rough? I could prick him with thorns if you’d like..~” Chan mumbles, pecking your lips softly while also letting out a tiny laugh at then end.

You nod, giggling afterwards to which Chan smiled — brushing through your locks with his hand, a loving grin plastered on his face.

Humming softly as Chan waited for Seungmin to come back.

. .

Seungmin finally arrived with a three damp cloth hanging on his shoulder while carrying a cup and a pitcher filled with water. He smiled lovingly at the both of you before setting down the water pitcher and cups at the nightstand.

He then moved closer to the both of you to wipe both of you clean. He started with Chan, thoroughly wiping his chest down to his abs before teasing him by pushing the buttplug deeper in his ass to which Chan let out a small whine too.

After that, he cleaned you up too by wiping the cum on your thighs and around your buttcheeks.

He started to finger your gaping hole slowly too, trying to remove any more excess cum that was left inside. While being fingered, you were biting your lips, trying to not moan at a sensitive part being touched.

He looked at both you and Chan sweetly, before leaning down to kiss you both at the forehead. “Such good babies, I have~” He said in a teasing tone.

Chan pouted, “I’m older than you, Minmin!!”, he glared at Seungmin which made him laugh, he then patted Chan’s head. “Doesn’t matter, pup~” You watched their interactions with a tired smile.

Before Seungmin remembered something earlier to which he turned to you, sitting on the bed. His smile turning flat. “So, I passed by the bakery earlier and your co-worker said something to me.”

You froze on the spot before looking at his cold eyes, “Why didn't you tell me that the other citizens treated you like shit and called you names?” He said, a small anger laced in his voice. — It was not directed at you though.

Silence.

Chan’s mouth hang agape a short while before he growled — taking into account what Seungmin said, “They do fucking what to you?” He snapped, venom clearly in his tone. Chan rarely gets mad and when he does expect a disaster.

Chan barely could contain himself as roots flowed out the walls and into the hallway, Seungmin looked over at Chan, “Channie, calm down.” His eyes flashing the same pink hue as earlier in the hallway encounter.

“Calm— What? Calm down? They treat him terribly, and you expect me to not choke them where they live?” Chan seethed, not happy at what Seungmin is doing — which is trying to stop him.

The roots on the walls enlarge and footsteps was audibly heard outside the walls of the room — possibly guards that were trying to run away to avoid getting trampled by the evergrowing vines

“I’ll deal with it, so don't worry. Just don't destroy the house okay?” Seungmin tried to reason as best as he can.

But Chan didn't stop still littering the whole room with dangerous roots and long vines. Angry Chan was a force to be reckoned with ans even Min had hard times to calm him down.

“Chan.” Seungmin had used his own ability now, wanting Chan to stop what he was doing — His jaw tightened in frustration while you sat there with fear at the conflict of your boyfriends.

Chan flinched slightly before growling lowly, challenging Seungmin, “Don’t you fucking dare use that on me outside of bed, Kim Seungmin.” he said darkly, glaring at black haired man.

“Bang Christopher fucking Chan. Wilt your plants, are you challenging me? ” Seungmin looked down at Chan with a dark pink flare at his eyes, displeased with the disrespect of the nature demigod.

Chan’s eyes slowly diluted back to normal and whimpered, his plants were now gone — turned into dust, he looked at Seungmin like a puppy that had been beaten up.

Seungmin sighed and sat back down on the bed, petting Chan is in his fragile state before he grabbed him so he could hold him properly.

He looked at you before speaking, “You’re gonna have a bodyguard with you at all times, I already assigned who. Hyunjin will detain anyone who bad-mouths you, okay?” Seungmin said clear as day.

“B— But-”

“No buts, Y/N. This is for your safety, not only physically but also emotionally. Plus, they can't get away with disrespecting what’s mine.” He fumed slightly.

Your eyes softened and rubbed his shoulder comfortably to soothe his anger. “Fine. But let’s sleep for now. Chan is tired, you’re tired, I’m also tired...” you whisper to him, hugging him before he laid Chan down to the bed.

Soon enough all of you fell into a comfortable sleep, you were hugging Chan as Seungmin was spooning the both of you. The fight earlier soon vanished like a wisp as the room fell into a comfortable silence.

. . .

Special Scene~:

“How dare you fucking touch me. I am a son of A— ow! ow!” The man getting cuffed by Hyunjin said out. Hyunjin made sure to tighten the cuffs more to make sure the rude customer felt discomfort.

“Do I look like I care? No. You are going to have jail time, bitch.” Hyunjin, a son of Nemesis sassed out as he grabbed his phone and dialed someone to come pick the detainee up.

You look over at Changbin at the scene you just witnessed, he looked back at you.

“Okay, but that’s kinda ho—”

“Changbin!” you look at him, secretly judging his word choices.

“What? It’s true..” Hades’ son trailed off.

475 notes · View notes

turning-dreams-into-chaos · 4 years

Text

Jamesy

Request: I really love your works on Harry Potter (basically marauders) Can I request 14, 16, 18, 23, 28 for James Potter. Can reader be Remus' twin sister, a Gryffindor? I I would be really happy to read it. Also if possible can you make a happy ending for it? I trust you can write a perfect fic! Thank you:) (are you still open to this kind of requests?)

14. “Wake me up when you have a brain.”

16. “Yeah I’m not wearing that.”

18. “How drunk was I?”

23. “You’re a dork.”

28. “I was joking! I swear!”

Requested by: @miniaturebananauniversitywinner (Can’t tag)

Paring: James Potter x Lupin!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

~Master~

~Harry Potter~

Remus had always been the more responsible twin. You had always been the risk-it-all, life of the party girl. If someone had to guess who in your friend group you were siblings with, the only indication it was Remus would be the scars you and Remus both wear, due to your howl-at-the-moon sides. Everyone at Hogwarts knew of your scars but based on your personality everyone assumed you had gotten them from doing something rather ill-mannered and drug Remus along with you.

In fact, it was your idea to have a party in the common room tonight, supposedly celebrating Gryffindors win against Hufflepuff. The truth was the full moon was in a few days and you needed to let loose and have fun before giving your friends absolute hell while they deal with you and Remus. The house was livelier than it had been in a while as people started to get more and more tipsy and you found yourself jumping up on the table and dancing.

“Nice moves, Lupin!” Someone called out behind you as you spin around, nearly falling off the table. But once you saw who it was, a smile grew on your face and you literally jumped into his arms.

“Jamesy!” You cooed in his ear as your arms flew around his neck. James’ cheeks showed a dark red as he awkwardly patted your back, not used to the feeling of you pressed against him. You always were an affectionate drunk, and for some reason even more with him. Sirius would always tease him about it.

“Jamesy! Oh Jamesy, you’re my favorite!” Sirius would mock you when they were in their room late at night, flipping a fake head of hair as James would always fall back in laughter. They weren’t making fun of you, not at all, more into teasing James whenever possible. It was no secret James fancies you. The boy never tried to hide it, but you were rather obtuse and with Remus being the overprotective brother he was, you never really put two and two together. But that didn’t mean you don’t feel the same way, James was your favorite after all.

“Come on Y/N. I think you had enough partying tonight.” He said as he tried picking you up. Your eyes widened as you turned to run, not wanting the party to end. James reacted fast, grabbing you around the waist and keeping you from running away.

“James, no! I need this!” You begged him, trying to pull his arms off you.

“James? What happened to Jamesy?” He chuckled in your ear and he could feel you squirm in his arms as he loosened them, watching you turn around. He raised a brow as you threw your arms loosely over his shoulder, feeling your fingers tickle the back of his neck as he inhaled sharply.

“’Jamesy’ is only for nice boys.”

“Nice boys?” He smirked as you nodded and hummed a yes. “You’re a dork.” Your jaw dropped as you looked at James, swaying slightly to the music in the air.

“You’re mean.” You mumbled quietly. The sight only made James smile. He didn’t know which Y/N he likes more, the cute carefree affectionate Y/N or the badass, tell it as it is Y/N.

“I was joking! I swear!” He laughed just seconds before a cold drink filled with ice spilled down your shirt. His smile dropped when he saw you freeze, letting out a high-pitched squeal and clinging onto James. James was about to yell at the person who spilled on you but you were practically shivering in his arms. “Come on love, lets get you changed.” You nodded and let him lead you up to your room. You were barely outside the door before James stopped walking.

“Why’d you stop?” You muttered, holding onto his arm. James sent you a smile before looking down at the handle, a red and yellow tie hanging off it. “Jamesy?” You picked your head up off his arm, looking down at the handle before bursting out in laughter. “That’s Sirius’.” You cackled out, seeing the words ‘Padfoot’ you wrote in the seam of the tie when Peter kept stealing the boy’s ties. You both heard a low woman’s moan coming from inside as you froze, looking to James to see his eyes just as wide.

“And that’s Marlene.” You nodded, trying to hide your laughs but that was easier to do when you weren’t drunk. James led you back down to the common room, bustling with laughter in every step. As soon as you were back in the party, you grabbed a drink off the table, downing it before James could stop you. James just glared at you when you were done, throwing the cup amongst the crowd. You grinned and James watched the arrogant expression on your face fall as the cup was tossed back at you hitting you in the head.

You pulled out your wand, ready to hex whoever spelled the cup to fly back at you but James pulled the wand out of your hand and threw you over his shoulder. You started to protest but the alcohol was starting to catch up to you. James brought you to the bathroom and put you down. You fell to your knees, letting your eyes close. James had squatted down next you, running a hand up and down your back to make you feel better.

“I’m good. I’m good.” You told him, letting him help you to your feet.

“Let’s get you changed into something… less wet.” He wiped his hand, now wet from your shirt, unto his pant leg before walking out into his room. He started heading towards your brother’s trunk to grab a shirt from him before he stopped himself, turning slowly to his own truck. He smirked as he grabbed a long-sleeved shirt from the top and headed back to you. You were sitting against the wall, your eyes closed as you hugged your knees, resting your head to the side. “You alive?” James joked.

You groaned and opened one eye at see his smirking ass leaning in the doorway. “Yes.” He snorted at you, grabbing your hands to pull you up. Holding the shirt out, you just stared at it. “Yeah, I’m not wearing that.”

“What are you doing to do? Be naked?”

“Maybe.” And there was the risk-it-all Y/N he loved. He cleared his throat, his heads widening at the thought before you took the shirt from him, gesturing for him to turn around. James followed, hearing you pull your own shirt off before slipping on his. “Okay.”

He turned back around, guffawing at the sight of you wearing the shirt backwards. He helped you turn it around and you let out a content sigh when it was done, feeling the warmth already from a dry shirt that felt like James. “Let’s get you on the bed.”

“Jamesy, take a girl to dinner first.” You joked and laughed at your joke as James groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“I meant your brother’s bed.” He clarified before you let out a sound of disapproval.

“No! Rem lays on me in his sleep!” You told him as you looked towards his bed, almost feeling the comfort from here. “Can I sleep in your bed?”

“I’m not sleeping next Remus. I heard he lays on people in his sleep.” He deadpanned. You chuckled, slapping him on the arm lightly and James stared fondly at you.

“No, you’d sleep in it with me.” You rested your head on his arm, both of you heading towards the bed. James gulped, stopping himself.

“How about you sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep in Sirius’. Figure he’d stay the night with Marlene.” You nodded and fell into the bed, seeing James smile down at you as you furrowed your brows.

“What are you smiling at, smiley?”

“Smiley?”

“Yeah, cause you’re smiling.” You always were good at making James blush. He pulled the blankets out from under and covered you up, your eyes starting to close. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jamesy.” You mumbled in your half-asleep state. James froze. You’ve never called him your boyfriend before. You saw him as a boyfriend. He was ecstatic.

“Go to sleep, Y/N, I’ll see you in morning.” He whispered and hope you couldn’t hear the smile taking over his face.

“Wake me up when you have a brain.” You muttered. James scoffed, crossing his arms while looking at you. “I’ll sleep forever.”

“You’re mean.” He mocked you from earlier, seeing your breathing even out meaning you were asleep. He stared for a few extra seconds, marveling at the sight of you on his bed before he pulled himself away and into Sirius’ bed.

“James. Prongs, wake up.” He felt someone shake his shoulder as he peeled his eyes open, seeing the lupin twin he hadn’t said goodnight too staring down at him.

“What?” he groaned out, rubbing his eyes.

Remus just glared at him, his jaw locking. “Why is my sister in your bed wearing your shirt?”

James’ eyes widened as he realized what Remus was asking. “No, no, no Moony, I promise we didn’t do any-“

“I know.”

James blinked as Remus donned a smirked. “What?” Remus just made his way back to his own bed and looked at James just past your sleeping body.

“Mate, I know you didn’t do anything with her. That’s why she’s in your bed and you’re in Sirius’.” James just nodded, unsure how to carry on with this conversation. “Oh, that and the fact you’re hopelessly in love in her.”

James had never scrambled out of his, well Sirius’, bed faster, making his way over to Remus. “Stop talking! She could wake up!”

“Notice how you didn’t deny it.” James stopped himself.

Well, damn it. Remus had him.

“Just be good to her, okay?” Remus looked over, seeing you stir in the bed and pull the hair from your face.

“What time is it?” You groaned, stretching your arms to the air. Remus glanced at James, seeing him still frozen as he clapped his back, getting your attention.

“It’s morning and you’re hungover.”

You sneered at him. “No shit, Rem.” You sat up in the bed, realizing it was James as you raised a brow to the boy. You remember the party, you remember James taking you from the party, you remember Sirius and Marlene, but you don’t remember why you were in James’ bed or even James’ shirt. You pulled the fabric away from your body to peek inside, seeing your bra still in place as you sighed happily.

“How drunk was I?” You asked, throwing your feet over the side of the bed. You stretched your body, feeling a few cracks as your head pounded. Remus bit his lip, holding back a laugh as he turned to see James thinking about how to handle this situation.

He rolled his eyes, kicking James out of his bed and over to you. “Don’t worry, Jamesy was there to take care of you.” You rolled your eyes at your brother mocking you, probably tired of hearing about your crush on the boy. Remus was up and out of the room the instant James’ stumbling stopped and he looked back at him.

The door slammed as James sighed, looking at a hungover you cuddling back into his blankets. He chuckled. “You know we have class, right?”

You peeked an eye out of the covers at him. “You have class. I have a hangover.”

“And whose fault was that?” He heard you mumble against the blankets as he smirked, slowly pulling the blankets away. “What was that?”

“It was mine!” You yelled out, wincing from your own volume. “But you were being mean.”

James paused, feeling his heart pound a little faster when he licked his lips, considering his next words. “I thought I was a good boyfriend.” He watched the color drain from your face as you gulped, trying to hide under the blanket. “Oh no, you don’t.” He threw the blanket off his bed, leaving you staring up at him wide eyed. “Should we maybe talk about that? About what you said.”

“Look, James I was drunk-“

“I wanna be a good boyfriend.” You stopped yourself, believing you were imagining it. James stood straighter, trying to feel confident. “I wanna be a good boyfriend. I wanna be your boyfriend.”

A grin slowly spread on your face, as James stumbled over his words. “You wanna be my boyfriend? As in, you actually feel that way about me?”

“God, yes.” He breathed out as he fell onto the bed. His relief was short lived though as he sat up. “Only if you felt the same. I mean, I don’t know if you were just drunk and rambling.”

“I wasn’t just drunk.” You cut him off, grabbing his hand to stop him. “I mean, I was drunk, but I meant it. I think you’d be a great boyfriend.”

“Well, can I be your boyfriend?”

“I’d be really disappointed at this point if you weren’t.”

“Great.”

“Great.” Neither of you said anything more as you stared at each other, not sure what to do next. You were the first person to make a move, pulling yourself over to James and pressing your lips to his. James’ wrapped his arms around you the moment you moved, pulling you against him as you straddled his legs. The feeling of your body against his this time, was something he knew he’d get used to, your lips being the part he liked more. James was already lost in the sensation as his door opened and you pulled your lips away, looking up to see Remus, Sirius, and Peter all looking at you both, smiles on their faces.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did we interrupt something?” Sirius asked as he walked into the room, falling into his well slept in bed. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy wearing a cocky grin as James turned to glare at him.

“Yes!” He said the same time you did. The three boys just laughed at you and James. You flipped them off behind James’ back before putting your lips back on James. The laughter stopped as you pushed James back onto the mattress, the kiss deepening.

“Run!” Sirius shouted and jumped off his bed, not wanting to see you and James go at it. He pushed Peter and Remus out the room, the latter’s face watching disgusted as his friend’s hand roamed his sister’s body.

“That’s my sister mate!” He shouted at James as you looked up, feeling James’ mouth move to your neck.

“Then don’t watch.” You smirked as Remus paused, dashing out of the room as fast as Sirius had. You threw your head back in laughter as James stopped kissing your neck, straining his own to check the door had closed.

“Thank goodness. I thought they’d never leave.” He rolled you off him as you laughed even more, moving to lay on the bed normally as James moved to join you.

You smiled as he cuddled up next to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist. The smile on his face matched your as you kissed it one more time. “Me too, Jamesy. Me too.”

A/N: I’m back for 20 minutes and you all get a Bellamy Blake series and a James Potter piece. Lmao, thoughts please?

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halorocks1214 · 4 years

Text

the law of relativity

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9963

Summary: The Law of Relativity states that each person will receive a series of problems (‘tests of initiation’) for the purpose of strengthening the ‘light’ within. We must consider each of these tests to be a challenge and remain connected to our hearts when proceeding to solve the problems. This law also teaches us to compare our problems to others’ problems and put everything into its proper perspective. No matter how bad we perceive our situation to be, there is always someone who is in a worse position. It is all relative

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | Virgil | You are here! | Gordon

WHY 👏🏼 CANT 👏🏼 I 👏🏼 WRITE 👏🏼 FICS 👏🏼 IN 👏🏼 MO 👏🏼 DER 👏🏼 RATION 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 also just bluuuergh. dont ask about this fic. part of it was written in a dark auditorium, another was written in a different state, another was written on a frickin bus, this fic has been places ill tell you what. half the time i think this is hot garbage and the other half i think its actually decent so im posting this while my head is in a good headspace and then promptly yeeting myself off the internet for a few hours to wait and see what happens. this series is becoming less of a canon divergence AU and more of a straight-up AU because of certain details im trying to worm in there buT IM TRYING MY BEST

thanks once more to @gumnut-logic, because of the length, this time i used three prompts, them being "What do you mean?", crease, and dream (and they werent even used that much sksksksk)

Warnings for both graphic and non-graphic depictions of violence, as well as mentions of torture and other PTSD/panic attack related stuff. I went deep with this one fellas

Orphan.

The word tasted dirty in his mouth.

He can still see the footage in the backs of his eyelids from when he watched it exactly one year ago. He was the only other (living) adult at the time in the family outside of Grandma, so he was permitted to see it. He remembered they originally didn’t want to show him, mainly because of his age, but Grandma was fierce, and she put one hell of an argument on the table.

One Scott refused to let fall through the cracks by breaking down. If only Grandma knew how he cried his eyes out and screamed to high heaven that night in the hotel room after essentially watching his father be blown to bloody smithereens then she was a goddamn saint for keeping it a secret. It made sense, she was the mother to his father. She had quite the line up of stories from Jeff’s childhood. Scott sensed the early-greying of his hair came from her, heh.

The rest of his family eventually saw it, of course, they did. Scott couldn’t shield them forever. What he will protect, selfishly he might add, was how angry he was at how much better they took it than he did. They cried, yes they did, but they never fully broke down like Scott did. Later in life, he wondered if it was jealousy: jealousy at not truly being able to let go. Whatever it was, he made sure to swallow it along with whatever alcohol he chose for the weekend.

Just add it to the ever-growing pile of shit he had to deal with. Nothing new.

Suddenly he’s 20 again and seated in a plane to be taken to his first stint in the Air Force. He said his goodbyes to Virgil, Gordon, and Alan back at home while Grandma and John metaphorically held his hand all the way to the airport. John was… quiet, more so than usual, but Grandma was stuck right in the middle between being a sobbing mess and ecstatic at the fine young man he’s become.

You’re just like your father. He would be proud.

Scott was secretly glad she never physically said it. It gave him plausible deniability in thinking that those words weren’t laced behind her big, bright, prideful eyes.

The first time went well, maybe even great. He stayed for a couple of months, did some flight tests, and while the training was brutal, boy did he learn a lot. When he came back home it was to a family slowly stitching itself back together. Grandma was a full-time house member, Virgil had taken up painting, Gordon talked about potentially going back to his swim meets, and while Alan was still as silent as ever, he was perkier than when Scott last saw him.

It would be on and off for the next few years: a couple of months at home, slowly and painfully taking over the role their father had (he can’t remember when he essentially received joint custody of his younger siblings with Grandma, but hey, he’s not complaining), then a couple of months out at the Air Force base where he slowly climbed up the ranking platform. He became skillful, perhaps too skillful. When he got his rank of Captain he felt it was less of an honor and more of something they owed him.

He was getting cocky. Never enough to be a danger to his fellow men, but enough to be somewhat of an occasional annoyance. Charles smacked him upside the head more than once. It felt like the world was right-side-up for once. Scott made many-a-calls to John and Virgil, the former enjoying his first few rotations up in space and the latter squarely in the middle of college. Gordon was being offered sponsorships to hell and back, and Alan was quietly getting along with the other kids at his school. Grandma was on welcoming duty for Kayo, who was taking her slot in the Tracy family with grace, though, a warning that their family would take custody of her if something were to happen to her parents would have been nice, Dad.

Of course, nothing ever goes right for their family for too long.

Orphan.

Age 24, it was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission of civilians. Scott was put in charge of his squad and then some. At night, they rolled-- well, flew out to get the job done. Scott can’t even remember the country anymore when minding his own business. Australia? Finland? Perhaps Bangladesh? There was a place John was insistent Scott never do rescues in, Virgil tended to agree, and the eldest unhealthily let them banish him from ever stepping foot there without argument. He could never remember the name off the top of his head until John’s familiar International Rescue, we have a situation rung out in the living room followed by the name of the country.

He would immediately forget it later, trauma too strong, too volatile, but the way his heart stopped and his head shattered and the way he felt ice water rush down his back was a good enough reason to quietly leave the room and let John delegate the job to one of his brothers. Sometimes John found him retching in the toilet halfway through the mission. He made sure to always mute Scott’s wrist communicator, even if it was never turned on in the first place.

The plane touched down. Orders sent the ground team out. But then the ground team took longer than estimated. Scott tensely waited where he was told to. It wasn’t the first mission that took a little longer than predicted and knowing humans, it surely wouldn’t be the last. Then, words mixed with heavy static came over the radio. H--p. Co-- ---7--. --nd ba---p --me--at--y.

Scott sat tensely in his seat, remembering his orders and suddenly hating them. Radio back to home if the mission goes south. Well, it didn’t look like they had the radio anymore. Still didn’t hurt to try at least. Scott spoke the familiar protocol that was ingrained into him when trying to call base. Dammit. Nothing. Probably some kind of blocker of sorts. Sitting up straight as a board, Scott looked through his options.

… He was in charge here. If something happened to his team the fault would lie squarely on his shoulders. Going against everything but his gut, he went out to help his squad. He can’t really remember what he exactly did anymore, but he does remember that it made a noise. Like a Looney Tunes scene: he flinched, froze, waited to see if anything or one heard, breathed a sigh of relief, and continued.

He eventually stumbled across one of his closest comrades, Arnold Brigeets. Yes, the name was ironic and half the reason he joined the force in the first place. The guy was one of the people that actually trained Scott and also seemed to be one of the few that was genuinely proud when Scott became a higher rank. It’s why Scott was more appreciative of Arnold than others, that, and well… Scott thought his fatherly abilities were good. The guy did have three kids back home.

Orphan.

Ducking down behind the cover his older friend was semi-situated behind, Scott watched as Arnold jumped at the intrusion before sighing. Scott had run into some enemies that he swiftly took down-- nothing too serious, he didn’t have the time or weapons for such an act, but they definitely would be out of it for a while-- so Arnold must have too on his way to find cover as well, hence why he was so on edge.

“Thank God,” Arnold wiped his forehead, “Glad to see you join us, kid.”

Scott was breathing heavily, but the grin he attempted was still there, “Y-Yeah, so what happened? More threats than we thought?”

Arnold shook his head, “Yes and no. There were a lot more baddies than we thought, but that’s because the civilians weren’t civilians. It’s a tr--”

Boom. The familiar sound of a gunshot.

Arnold fell over. Never got back up. Dropped like a rock in a lake, never to come up to the surface again.

Scott was so caught off guard he couldn’t react to the gun that swiftly beat him over the head, knocking him out cold. The only thing on his mind was oh fuck oh fuck I messed up I shouldn’t have come I wouldn’t have made any noise that way why did I--

They had him for roughly two weeks. Scott always thought the plotline in movies where the villain vehemently denied knowing any important information was dumb as hell. We’re not stupid. We wouldn’t go after someone if they didn’t know something.

The things they did hurt and no amount of I don’t fucking know anything! would help. Those two weeks were lost to Scott in a sea of pain and torment. The only thing he remembered was being captured, then waking up in a hospital drugged up to his gills with his superiors staring at him like he cured cancer.

“You saved the rest of your squad from sharing the same fate as the first half.”

“I-I did?”

“You betcha, son. I only wish I was there to see it! People be saying you were like an animal in how you took ‘em all down.”

Scott’s never remembered, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He was given the highest honors, even the chance to skip a couple of ranks to be at the same level as the big boys, but the night they were going to share the news to the golden boy himself, they found him in one of the bathrooms with a bloody hand and a mirror shattered with no hope of fixing it.

He was honorably discharged to a family that was so thankful he was home. Words like missing in action and POA never stopped haunting their nightmares. Scott was too, God, of course, he was, but sitting around and doing nothing was the last thing his traumatized mind wanted or maybe even needed. After doing what he considered to be the biggest fuck-up of his life, he needed to feel important.

This isn’t the first time he’ll say this and it surely won’t be the last: thank Christ for Grandma.

“You want me to take over?...”

“Yep, it’s about time Tracy Industries received a new pair of eyes. The Board certainly thinks so.”

“But… they’d rather have a crazy, PTSD-infected veteran over you?”

A rough pinch to his ear, “Hey now, don’t call yourself that,” the gentle motherly tone was back as soon as it left, “Besides, that crazy might exactly be what they want. Half of their argument is that I “don’t take enough risks.” They’re getting tired of listening to an old fart like me.”

A moment of contemplation, followed by the cheeky raise of an eyebrow, “So you’re saying you want me to take so many risks they have no choice but to take you back?”

A bark of laughter, “Damn straight.”

He learned the ropes faster than normal (healthy, is probably the correct term), and he immediately won the hearts of both young and old in the company. Instead of flying planes every few months, he worked on business reports and vetoed new ideas every couple of weeks. It felt satisfying for the most part, and his family was just happy he was still alive to enjoy it.

However, there was a slight roadblock on his way to becoming a somewhat stable person.

He became prone to violent blackouts. It had to have started when he blacked out and saved himself from those two weeks of hell, which made the most sense. Something was always destroyed when he came back to life. John was the best at calming him down due to his own experience with panic attacks, however, John couldn’t always be there, and the next rotation for NASA was coming swiftly. Scott swore up and down he would be fine, he could figure something out. John went back into space with an eyebrow permanently raised.

It was just him and Virgil home (Grandma had taken Alan and Kayo to watch Gordon swim) when he, unfortunately, proved John right. Scott wasn’t sure what triggered it, but he vividly remembered coming back in Virgil’s extremely tight hold. The first thing Scott thought to say was damn, beanstalk, when did you get so strong? but then he laid his eyes upon the forming bruise on his younger bro’s face and hasn’t recovered since.

Virgil swore he never held it against Scott. Scott definitely thought he should have.

That night brought sudden clarity to Scott that he was doing this horribly wrong. He was a ticking time bomb, and it wouldn’t be long before something was damaged in a way that couldn’t be fixed. Scott needed an anchor. Something to ground him before he took it too far. John wasn’t going to be earthside forever, Grandma was busy with Kayo, Alan was just a kid, and Gordon was living the dream. None of them were viable.

Then, as he was thinking, he was suddenly aware of how calming Virgil’s arms were around him, how they were preventing the growing panic attack in his chest from getting even bigger.

It was easy.

For once in Scott’s life, his eyes were big and young as he asked Virgil, “Help me, please.”

After a few brief seconds, Virgil gulped, “Okay.”

From then on, Virgil was Stone Number One. Scott’s admiration for Virgil outweighed the guilt of putting the black-haired man in that position in the first place. Virgil was glad to follow his older brother’s leadership, but just as qualified to bring him the hell back when he went too far. From getting too sacrificial to preventing a good punching-out some of the idiots they dealt with, Virgil made sure Scott knocked that shit off.

Time went on, Scott was a top-notch CEO at Tracy Industries, John was having one hell of a time up in space, Virgil was graduated and had so many life opportunities to pick from, Alan was thriving at being a (mostly) stable kid, Kayo was 100% acclimated to the family, and Gordon--

Scott found himself gripping the wooden desk very abruptly. He was shocked he didn’t snap a chunk off in the process. Why was he thinking about this right after a giant business conference? Who knows at this point. If this giant origin story seemed jagged and jumpy, maybe even somewhat vague, good, that’s how it fucking felt.

Back to said story.

Scott always thought he and Gordon would have the least amount in common.

They do, but out of all the things they could have picked to be similar, why did it have to be the PTSD caused by military-related jobs? Scott was 24 when he got his, Gordon was just under 20. It may have been a few years since their respective accidents, but they’re never going to go another day without it feeling like it was just yesterday.

At this point, Gordon was up and walking again, mainly thanks to John and Alan while Virgil and Scott helped in their own ways. Grandma’s cooking was what probably motivated him the most though, ha, the need to get away from it… Scott smiled. Grandma was always a constant. Honestly, if it weren’t for her, the family might have fallen apart. Literally.

What has he been saying throughout this whole shindig? Thank Christ for Grandma.

One day out of the blue, Grandma reserved the entire family (yes, even Kayo and Alan) private plane tickets so they could spend some time on the mainland for a few days. Honestly, even if the island wasn’t getting major renovations, you hooligans need to get out more. Have some fun. Try not to kill anything, especially each other, she all told them while creepily grinning. John and Virgil smacked Gordon more than once on the plane for insisting that she finally snapped, dudes, she’s gonna kill us.

Most of the time during their little vacation, Scott heavily focused on his breathing. He was pretty sure he knew what she was doing. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but the same went for his excitement.

Dad showed him these plans the day after his 18th birthday. You’re a man now, Scotty, I need your help making this big boy decision with me.

As soon as they reset foot down on the island, Scott took a deep breath and felt relaxed at the salty taste in the air. It was weird, nothing on the outside was changed, and yet… it still felt different.

“Guys!” Virgil yelled out, “Stop playing in the water! We just got back, aren’t you two tired?!”

Blinking back to reality, Scott looked over to see his two youngest brothers doing exactly what Virgil was yelling at them for. Poor Johnny was a little damp too, which is what probably caused Virgil to shout at them in the first place. The blondes didn’t care. They continued to prance around in the shallow waves with their pants legs rolled up, acting as if they didn’t hear anything outside of their laughter. Gordon shoved his hands down into the liquid and threw some directly at Alan, nailing him right in the face.

Scott exhaled slowly. He couldn’t imagine them doing this 8 years ago.

Regardless, the artist was right, and they couldn’t waste too much time. Kayo was swift in grabbing both gentlemen by the ears and dragging them onto dry land. They all painstakingly trekked their way up to the-- what would you call Tracy Island? Mansion? Over-blown cabin? Well, whatever it was, Scott would always be willing to call it home.

Stepping inside, each brother took in the view, which was underwhelmingly not that much different, except for one tiny thing. John suddenly noticed a figure already standing in the living room and blinked, “No way… it’s--”

Gordon jumped in, both with his body and his words, “Brains?! Dude, how’s it hanging?!”

The scientist in question jumped at the voices before clearing his throat and readjusting his glasses, “O-Oh, hello again, T-Tracys. It’s good to see you all once more.”

Virgil slung an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the blatant squawk, “Man, how long has it been?! What made you finally decide to crawl out of your hole?”

Snickers came from all corners of the house. Brains stood up straighter, “W-Well, I was contacted b-by Mrs. Tracy over here with an offer I c-couldn’t turn down.”

Eyebrows tilted in all shapes and sizes. Someone cleared their throat. Everyone turned to look at Grandma once again, “I think if you all follow me, you’ll swiftly understand what I’m talking about.”

I already do, Scott thought matter-of-factly. John seemed to be understanding it now, Virgil was on the cusp of remembering what his father was hinting at for him, and Gordon was just as lost as Alan. It made sense, Jeff talked to all of them about it, but the oldest had seniority. The two youngest not remembering just by words was expected, especially since that was going to be rectified very quickly.

The hangar under the island was beautiful. Point blank. It smelt of iron and steel and grease and engine and that was the first time since Scott had been in the Air Force that he didn’t gag or flinch at the thought of flying something again. Scott had seen the plans his father drew. He assumed Jeff finished building it, but he never got to physically see it since…

In some ways, he was glad he didn’t. Now he got to experience it with (most of) his family, and that made it ten times better.

After letting them absorb the scenery, Grandma slowly turned around to look at them all, “You remember that dream your father had?”

The four oldest blinked, Kayo simply raised her eyebrows, meanwhile, Alan, being the teenager he was, didn’t read the emotion in the room, “Oh, yeah! Aunt Casey always talked about how he was going to “change the world” and stuff. What did he call it again?”

Scott felt way more confident than he had in a while, “International Rescue.”

Grandma nodded, gleeful at the happy look on her oldest and youngest grandsons’ faces, “Well, I’ve been thinking about some things. I know we don’t exactly worry about money, but after everything your father put into these girls… I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

The Tracy family jumped at that. John’s mouth was wide open in shock, yes, shock, “That station is still up there?”

Grandma sighed, “You mean ‘Five? Not for long. Not if we don’t send someone up there within the next few days.”

John blushed at the grin Grandma gave him. Clearing his throat, his big brain came to a startling conclusion, “Wait… you brought Alan along?”

The other big brothers in the room jumped at that. Kayo was the only one with enough balls to say the truth out loud, “Mrs. Tracy, I mean no offense, but he’s--”

“Just a kid?” Grandma smirked, “A kid that’s topped the VR charts for Intergalactic Fury for weeks straight while simultaneously getting nothing but A’s in his classes?”

Scott nodded slowly in comprehension. He remembered Alan talking about that game for a while. It was some kind of online racing simulator of sorts. Scott caught the prettiest string of words from Alan when going to bed one night. Nearly made him shit his pants. He made the kid promise to keep it PG-13 if he wanted to keep playing.

Still, the elders in the family slowly turned to look at the freckled boy with both shock and pride. Alan blinked with wide-eyed innocence, “But my English class is only at a B--”

“Shh, kiddo, I’m making a point,” Grandma rolled her eyes. The other brothers snickered. Yep, still Alan. Grandma sighed, “Now before you point out that video games are different, I know, but the difference between them and this is that video games don’t have some of the most talented older brothers in the world to guide him.”

Said older brothers jumped at the idea. Before any objection could be made, Grandma continued, “Besides, the GDF seemed to be okay with it. The Colonel was willing to oversee some of his training too.”

John flinched at that, “But IR is supposed to be independent!”

Grandma slightly frowned. She didn’t exactly like it either, “It still is, but in the world of business, compromises have to be made.”

Virgil huffed and crossed his arms, “Well, that’s… rough. Here I thought only Scott would have to deal with the bullshit of business.”

Grandma chuckled at the somewhat un-Virgil-like behavior, “It really is, Virgil. But about that Scott part,” she slowly turned to look at him and him only, “I hate to give you more work to do, but if you want to work within their restrictions?”

Suddenly every pair of eyes in the room was on the head of the family. Gulping, Scott looked down at his feet to think. It was a tense few moments, nobody sure what he was going to decide, least of all him, before the brunette cleared his throat and brought his face back up with a grin.

“Well then,” Scott turned to look at the bright tip of ‘One, chest fluttering with a feeling that became unfamiliar to him over the past few years, “I guess now it’s time to state the obvious.”

From then on, every time he loaded into that cockpit of his girl, he felt lighter than air.

“Thunderbirds are GO!”

Everything was okay again.

Mostly.

Orphan.

Scott took another sip of his whiskey and refocused on his reports.

---

Scott was in some kind of dissociative state the whole way home.

Alan doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid, barely an adult, and he’s going to go through utter hell because you screwed up. You were 24, Gordon was just under 20, Alan was barely 18. Alan’s going to get fucked up like you and it’s all your fault.

His movements were robotic and rigid. Anyone with a working eye could tell he was deep in shock and running on autopilot. Mostly Jeff. Especially Jeff. The rest of the brothers all noticed too, but they were also running on their own empty fuel tanks, so the only thing they could do was guilty send their older brother the occasional glance of pity and concern.

Jeff was going to need to talk to them about that. Somehow. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one to point it out since he feels just as bad. His sons were too much like him, sometimes, and that made his guilt burn all the same. He should’ve been there to warn his sons about the dangers of unnecessary guilt. Having that kind of guilt was a parent’s job, dammit, and maybe grandparents only occasionally.

But then he remembered where he’s been for the past 8 years and… who really was Alan’s parents anymore? His gut was screaming it sure as hell isn’t you, but he knew his sons would want him to step back into the role as soon as he was physically fit to do so, not just for Alan, but for themselves as well. They would deny it, but they probably just wanted to be kids again too, even if it was only brief, fleeting moments.

Who was to tell the protective, fatherly side of Jeff no to that? No better time to fix things like the present after all.

He saw Scott go up the stairs when they first stepped into the living room, so that’s where Jeff was going to go too. Footsteps light, Jeff retraced his eldest’s pathway to his bedroom. Only, he stopped before said bedroom. Unfavorable noises were coming from the closed bathroom door, and Jeff could only swallow whatever emotion it made him feel. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the (unlocked) door to the bathroom and laid his eyes upon the incriminating scene.

Jeff was met with the sight of Scott retching his entire stomach into the toilet, hands aggressively grabbing his sticky, hair-gelled hair and trying to make himself bald from the strain.

Jeff’s reaction was always based on autopilot, and it will never stop being so.

Ignoring his protesting body, Jeff kneeled and placed a hand on his son’s back, only to abruptly pull back like he touched a hot stove when Scott only got more hysterical at the contact. The brunette clenched his eyes shut even more (and they were already shut as much as possible) while his head became a special kind of crease. Like he was in pain, “God, I wanna go home. Why won’t they listen I swear I’m telling the truth! Please, I just want Dad--”

Jeff was frozen on the spot, heart stopping in the process. His brain shut down while he watched his son continue to mindlessly ramble and panic. His freaked-out mind barely registered footsteps from behind in the hallway, followed by a voice going what’s going-- holy--

Something thundered past him. Blinking once, Jeff guiltily watched as Virgil kneeled behind the eldest and wrapped his arms around the thin man’s shoulders while taking Scott’s hands in his in a protective blanket, “Scott! Jesus-- we’re at home, you’re safe and it’s June 14th, 2--”

Scott only struggled more, panicking at the fact he could no longer yank his hair out. Dammit, it was the only way he could feel in control, don’t take that away too! “No! I swear I’ve said everything! Please--”

Virgil immediately knew that this was one of those attacks that Scott wasn’t coming back down from with pure human intervention. Add-on the sight of his father’s big eyes signifying the man was at a loss at what to do, Virgil had no choice. He snapped loudly, remembering the comms were still on and only feeling slightly bad at the way Scott flinched in his arms, “Shit-- John! It’s Scott! Get the stuff! We’re in the upstairs bathroom!”

Muffled footsteps through a few walls in the house could be heard. Jeff’s mind was only starting to catch up when the brother Virgil called for came rushing into the bathroom (Jeff never remembered it being big enough to hold four of them) and ignoring Jeff (practically shoving him out of the way too, man, this was bad) on his way to the main problem at hand. Landing on his knees in a way that made Jeff wince, John gently grabbed one of Scott’s arms from Virgil’s hold and subsequently pulled a needle from nowhere and injected something into Scott.

The response was instantaneous.

Scott’s breathing, while still labored, got slower. He stopped struggling as well, and the way he sagged reminded Jeff of ice melting into a puddle. The two other brothers’ shoulders also sagged, relieved at the crisis averted. John stood up, knees cracking as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he froze at the sight of something in the doorway, “G-Gordon…”

Virgil snapped his head up from where he was looking at Scott. Jeff did something similar. Yup, in the doorway was the strawberry blonde, eyes wide, making him younger by about 10 years. The ex-Olympian in question inhaled, closed his eyes, and soon speed-walked his way out of the entrance to the bathroom. Dammit, neither Gordon or Alan have seen something like that and it probably spooked him more than anything. He’d understand with his own PTSD-related issues, but still, seeing the “never weak” big brother freak out in such a scary way...

John combed a hand through his hair, shaking his head. As he started walking out of the room, he whispered to himself, probably hoping no one heard him, “Dammit, this is all so fucked…”

Unfortunately, Jeff did hear, and the dirty language made the father flinch. John was always the best about making sure Grandma didn’t wash his mouth out with soap, and the fact that he so willingly didn’t care meant that everyone was at the end of their rope. Still reeling at the sight, Jeff couldn’t react to the gentle arms that picked him up off the floor and slowly led him out of the suddenly stuffy room.

With the click of the door shutting, Jeff realized what Virgil did, “W-Wait, Scott--”

“Will be okay for a few seconds,” Virgil finished for his dad, “I know it’s nearly been a decade, but the one part of you I definitely know hasn’t changed is the need to comfort us, just like we hoped.” The small grin that fell over the middle child’s face put Jeff a little bit at ease, but Virgil wasn’t completely done, “So, I’m going to let you take care of this, but I just want to make sure you’ll handle it with grace. Take this slowly, okay? Scott might be doped up, but he’s still… volatile, in a sense.”

Jeff cleared his throat, suddenly choking on the unneeded tension, “Okay, Virgil, I promise, just… what happened? That was… bad, and really bad at that too. I know Scott would never let something that severe willingly come out in front of his family.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not ready for this conversation, “Listen, Dad,” he inhaled sharply, cutting himself off before sighing in a way that said fuck it, might as well get this over with, “As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living. We all have lives and stories now, and this is Scott’s story to tell.”

Jeff was getting misty-eyed again. Back when he was just a kid, Virgil couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, mainly in part due to his insomnia-related issues (Jeff has to wonder if he still has them, more problems for the future) and general lack of filter because of sleep-deprivation. Now Jeff knew there was a starch difference between a kid who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and a man who genuinely knew how to respect another man’s privacy, but…

It just hammers home how much he’s missed with his boys. Gulping, Jeff made a mental note to talk with his mom about certain things he’s missed. She’ll know a lot more than he would, “Okay, Virge. Thank you, for stepping up there.”

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed at Jeff’s words, as well as his father’s hand patting him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Dad. Just… go easy on him. I know it’s a little late for this but none of us ever properly talked about things. It was very unhealthy, deep down we all knew that, but…”

“You just couldn’t get the proper emotions out?” Jeff finished for his son. At Virgil’s soft nod, Jeff exhaled, “I’m not going to say that it was a smart decision, but we’re all here now. We can move forward with this.” Jeff squeezed where his hand laid.

Virgil blinked before curtly going, “Yeah. Goodnight, Dad. Take care of Scott.”

Virgil stepped around his father and walked to where his bedroom most definitely was not, but Jeff could deal with that in a little bit. He had another son who he was pretty sure just had a violent PTSD attack of some kind, plus, Virgil seemed to sour at something Jeff said. The ex-astronaut wasn’t sure what it was, so he didn’t chase after him out of worry that--

Wait.

We’re all here now.

Dammit, Jeff. Out of all the sentences you could’ve picked...

Alrighty, just add that to the ever-growing pile of things that need to be talked about later. No biggie. Jeff found himself sighing and rubbing the back of his neck much like Virgil did a few minutes ago. Turning around, he was met with the bathroom door once more. Shaking his head, Jeff slowly crept into the room and saw that not much was different, especially with Scott.

His heart softly cracked, but, again, he can deal with it later.

Sitting down on the ground and grimacing at the way his body ached (was gravity always this rough?), Jeff leaned against the floor cabinets about 2-3 feet away from Scott, who made himself into a nice comfortable ball in the corner next to the toilet, his palm smushed against his forehead. Jeff waited a few seconds. Then minutes. Then he realized he would have to be the one to initiate the conversation. He probably should’ve realized that right when he came back in. He opened his mouth, but his wasn’t the one that words came out of.

“It was… Zambia.”

Jeff’s heart stopped and his mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t stop the way his eyes clearly showed his panic, but hopefully, he guiltily thought, Scott was a little too doped up to not realize it, “Scotty, what do you mean?”

Scott shrugged in a way that spoke he thought what he was admitting wasn’t a big deal. Yep, clearly not with it, “Mission went bad… caught for a couple of weeks.”

Jeff was hoping his first fuck back on Earth, spoken to himself like right now or otherwise, would have been a comedic thing, but the way nausea rose in his throat said this was anything but funny.

Scott wanted to be in the Air Force. Badly. Who was a father to deny his son’s want to be part of such a noble cause? He gave him tips, took him to meet friends in high places, sometimes even sparred with him when he turned 18, but then Jeff was suddenly thousands of miles away with no hope of ever having the chance of sparring with his eldest again. Despite it, Jeff hoped Scott went on to become the best pilot the world has ever seen.

Part of this looks like he did, but at what cost?

As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living.

Aw hell, “Jesus, Scott…” Jeff couldn’t tell if it was the brashness or the lack of a nickname that made Scott flinch and he hated it. He immediately softened his tone and brought his 27-year-old child into his arms, “Shh, shh, we’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

Like father like son, old habits die hard, and as easy as it was to still be able to comfort his children, Scott seemed to just as easily take it as he used to 8 years ago, “Alan doesn’t deserve this kind of hell, God, he’s barely not a kid anymore! Why--”

Jeff tightened his hold to keep his son in reality, and because he didn’t like the tone behind those words, “Hey, you didn’t either--”

Scott somehow managed to fling himself out of the hug, focus incredibly on point for someone who was doped up to his eyelids five seconds ago, “But I fucked up! I made the wrong call and then suddenly Arnold was dead and he had a wife and kids-- shit, what the hell did I do?”

Okay.

First of all: way to put him back in that headspace when that’s the exact opposite you were going for, Jeff, father of the year. Second: dammit. Just… dammit. This was a big fat hand grenade in a giant handbasket that they didn’t have time to gently get out while simultaneously not yanking the pin clean off with the grace of a drunk elephant. Jeff was no stranger to Survivor’s Guilt, but there was a whole untapped pile of metaphorical C4 within his son’s head that was ready for someone to push the goddamn button.

He wanted it to be him, desperately, because it sounded like he already failed his family enough, it was all he could do at this point, but he absolutely hated that he couldn’t do it right now. This was going to take a lot of time, which they didn’t have, plus, Jeff thought he had a pretty good understanding of this new Scott and the rest of his kids. Jeff was aware that if he didn’t help his sons find their baby as fast as possible over everything else it’ll lead to a fate nobody wanted.

A shaky sigh, “Okay, Scotty, let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk strategy in the morning.”

Scott simply nodded as his father flung Scott’s arm around his broader shoulders and picked him up. Slowly and painfully but surely, father and son meandered their way to Scott’s room. With a thump a little harder than Jeff wanted, Scott flopped down on top of his sheets and immediately started snoring. Despite everything that just happened, the father couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Well, there was another thing Jeff gracefully passed onto his son.

Jeff only took Scott’s shoes off. He would’ve loved to pull the sheets up around him too, but the father didn’t want to take any chances at waking him up. Slowly tip-toeing out of the room, Jeff gave one last glance back at his son before finally letting him be and gently shutting the door. He had three other sons he needed to console, but his tired joints told him to selfishly take a moment for himself for right now unless he wanted to collapse and give his family more to deal with.

Jeff eventually made his way to his room-- which was sadly unkempt, he noticed-- and sat down on the edge of his unfamiliar bed to think.

He’ll figure something out. If he had to crawl through images of his son being brutally and bloodily tortured then by God he would with the fury of a thousand suns.

He was back and he wasn’t going to throw away any second or even third chance he was given.

---

“I got him.”

Virgil turned his comms back on, and with it, Scott’s heart restarted for the first time in a few weeks. Taking a moment for a breather, Scott leaned against the wall while practically wheezing. They have him back, holy shit, they have him back. Scott vaguely heard Gordon cry in pure relief and joy. He saw John’s side of the comms flutter for a bit before a bright flash happened. Blinking away the white spots, Scott looked at his wrist to see a fully detailed map of the compound.

Gordon spoke what they were all thinking, “Woohoo! First Allie comes back, then Johnny-boy gets us a free ticket out of here! We’re winning this race, baby!”

A very loud moment of silence. John cleared his throat, “Actually, I was going to say glad to see you in one piece, you little shit,” a playful gasp came from Virgil’s side. It was too high pitched to be from the pianist’s mouth. Scott chuckled, but the paranoid part of his brain said John wasn’t done. His brain was right, ‘“But guys… that wasn’t me. Or EOS. We still haven’t found a way to get past the metal they made these walls out of.”

That silence was even more deafening than the last, and before Virgil could utter out his typical what the fuck, a small logo appeared at the corner of their new map. One that was all too familiar. The Chaos Crew wasn’t the only one who could brand their awful deeds.

Son of a bitch.

Virgil’s order over the radio was meant for Alan, but Scott couldn’t help but listen to it too.

“Shit, Alan, you need to run.”

Making quick work of the compound once more, Scott, while booking it even quicker than last time, opened a private line between him and Gordon, “Hey, how would you feel if I said go help Virgil while I cover Alan?”

The first response was stuttering, which Scott expected, but then it was followed up by something completely out of left field for Gordon, “... Okay, just as long as you promise to bring Alan back in one piece.”

Part of Scott wanted to console Gordon, another was questioning why Gordon was so quick to give up, another wanted to say of course, I will, idiot, but the first part that made itself verbal was easy, “You know I will, buddy.”

Scott could physically picture Gordon’s tiny, little, somber nod clear as day, “Sounds good, captain. See you on the other side.”

With a click, Scott was back on the group comm. Suddenly remembering what exactly his job was, he pulled out the map so graciously given to them by The Hood. Looking at all the dots, one was heading towards a prone one (oh if that asshole did anything to Virgil…) while another one was heading right for Scott himself. Actually, in just a few seconds, right as Scott rounded the corner he would--

“Woah, look out there, Tigger!”

Yes, you heard that correctly: not tiger, Tigger. Tigger hadn’t been used since Alan was itty bitty. It always seemed like the kid had endless energy with the way he wouldn’t stop bounding off the walls and furniture. Even as a baby, Lucy had to sit with him for a few hours while he slept in his crib to make sure he would stay there. In fact, their mother gave Alan that nickname herself. She was quite the Winnie the Pooh fan, and the rest of the family figured it would be one of the ways they could keep her legacy alive for the tiny potato.

Wrapping his arms around said flailing potato, albeit much bigger than a baby, Scott thought he would collapse then and there. Alan was here, in his arms, and yeah, the sight of his dirty and somewhat ripped up IR uniform made him mad, but Scott, for once in his life, decided to focus on the here-and-now, aka his precious, alive little brother, who finally stopped struggling at the realization that hey, the person holding you is a good guy, time to turn off fight mode.

Smushing their foreheads together as much as possible, Scott desperately fought to keep the waterworks back, a smile from ear to ear hopefully taking whatever energy his tear ducts had, “You are getting such an ass beating when we get home, little bro.”

Alan jumped back with a look of What the hell?! What did I do now?!

Scott simply rolled his eyes, “Really? “Not important”? You graduated high school, tiny dude! That’s huge! You remember Gordon’s party, right?”

Alan’s mouth gaped before he closed it with slightly puffy cheeks. Those same cheeks tinged with a small blush. Alan wasn’t exactly expecting to be smothered so soon (well, he did cry his eyes out on Virgil’s shoulder, but that was different!). Shaking it off, Alan moved his hands rhythmically and rapidly, To be fair, we weren’t sure he was going to get one for a while.

Scott faltered a little bit at the ASL. Darn, he should’ve seen Alan’s lack of talking from a mile away. Scott carefully hid his disappointment from Alan. Lord knew what the kid would take it as, “Yeah, that’s what he got for barely making it. Imagine what you’re going to get!”

Scott assumed his semi-fake charm worked, as Alan seemed to play along without any kind of suspicion, Oh yeah. Fair enough.

This kid, man.

Then, slow clapping came from a dark corner, making Scott’s heart leap out of his throat as well as push Alan behind himself. Glaring as much as he could towards the invisible evil-doer, Scott didn’t have to think twice, “Alan, take my map and find Virgil and Gordon.”

The youngest looked like he was going to object.

“Go.”

He no longer did. Good.

Listening to the field commander’s orders, Scott felt his wristband slip off his wrist and a warm body leave his vicinity. An inhale. Also good. An exhale, followed by an even darker glare, “What more do you want?”

Short and straight-to-the-point and angry, two things Scott typically wasn’t. Regardless, like a cold gust of wind, footsteps started approaching him from the shadow. Once Scott saw the outline of a body, he tensed even more. Virgil would snap at him for clenching his jaw so much.

A dark chuckle reminded him of what was important. The voice that spoke reminded him of something completely different, “Now then, brother, let’s not be rude to each other!”

Scott’s pupils shrunk at the familiar sight of Gordon stepping towards him. Except it wasn’t Gordon, because Scott knew that Gordon knew better. He also knew Gordon didn’t cheekily smile like that, even after a prank, nor did he walk that straight. He always had a funny walk after WASP, and Gordon wore that fact like a badge of honor.

Oh no, Scott definitely knew who this was, “What the hell are you playing at?”

Fake-Gordon rolled his eyes, like it wasn’t obvious, “I mean if we want to go that route, why did kid insist you being in the military was the coolest thing he’d ever heard you do? Maybe I wouldn’t have been pressured into joining a branch myself in the end.”

Scott’s nostrils flared, and by God, his pupils might have actually slitted like a snake’s, or possibly even a dragon’s, “Excuse me?”

Scott blinked, and suddenly he was met by not-Virgil, “Plus, why was our conclusion after hearing a three-year-old wanting to see snow to go to a ski resort? It had to have been those big, selfish, beady eyes, right?”

“C’mon, Scotty, we gotta give you some kind of calming exercise. There’s going to come a time when neither me or John are going to be there.”

“Hmm… does yoga work?”

A snort, “Well, that’s not too bad of an idea. Maybe the person pissing you off will stop whatever they’re doing at the sight of you spontaneously doing downward dog.”

Laughter, an unfamiliar action, “Yeah, okay, but for real, those breathing exercises I’ve seen you do look okay. Let’s start there.”

Scott was not a liar by heart. He had to admit that those exercises were doing jack shit right about now.

Another blink, another brother. Familiar ginger hair was all Scott could see, “To continue that previous point, why did Dad start International Rescue again? And what led to his demise?”

“Sounds like a piece of work. Why do you keep dealing with these people again?”

“Someone has to pay the bills, Johnny. Grandma’s too focused on making the perfect poison for us.”

A roll of eyes, “Right, because the billions we have saved wouldn’t be enough to last a couple of families a few lifetimes. Glad to see your calming exercises are working at least. How’s that going for you, by the way?”

A pause. A flicker of vision around the room. Someone cleared their throat, probably himself, “It’s probably not as bad as whatever space is throwing at you. You handling it okay up there?”

Another pause, followed by a sigh, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Scott wanted to deflect the truth so badly right now more than anything else. Telling him he couldn’t pilot ‘One anymore would be a much more enticing option than what he was hearing.

Suddenly, Scott was looking in a mirror, “Besides, I know more than anybody that he wasn’t wanted. A mistake. I thought we Tracys hated being imperfect?”

The Hood must have known their backstories from internet articles, and being the mastermind he was, it probably took him all of three seconds to see Alan had some hidden self-worth issues. By playing the biggest Guess Who? game of all time, The Hood was most likely able to figure out some less-than-positive ideals Alan thought about himself throughout his childhood and danced circles around his already weakened mind to string together some spineless blame to put on the kid by sheer evilness alone.

Knowing his kid brother, it worked.

Scott wasn’t thinking straight-- maybe even at all when the first punch was thrown.

Just like that, Scott blacked out and was running on terminator mode. John would be disappointed. Virgil would be horrified. Gordon might find it funny. Alan wasn’t here, and thank God for that. Scott wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. All his mind was telling him was make lots of pain hard and fast. His brain also blocked out any hit The Hood was giving him in return. Pain flared for a few seconds, then it was swept away in the puddle of rage his mind was currently being consumed in.

Soon, his out-of-it mind found its target and gripped his-- The Hood’s arm, no disguise would make him have an identity crisis, thank you very much-- nice and rough.

Scott heard the familiar snap of cartilage and felt only partially bad. If he was thinking more clearly, he would be disgusted with himself. Yes, even The Hood didn’t deserve this level of Scott’s fury. Oh, he definitely deserved to be hit by a truck, but not by Scott. It was mostly due to Scott’s sanity. If he could be this graphic and violent at all, even to the worse possible criminals, that meant he could be that way during other moments, and that was not a territory he wanted to cross into.

Welp, he was here now, and he’ll hate to admit it in the future, but the only thing that brought him out of it was a tiny gasp from a few feet away. Snapping his head up, Scott’s eyes landed squarely on a smaller-than-normal Alan, who was currently clutching his arm to his chest in an emotion Scott didn’t want to figure out at the moment. So much for going and finding Virgil and Gordon.

“Allie, help…” fake him grunted out, only making real Scott growl and tighten his hold (and probably making his case worse). Looking up from the person in his arms, Scott felt his heart split in two at the sight. There was fear and uncertainty in Alan’s blue eyes and boy did it hurt. Scott couldn’t tell if it was because even seeing a potentially-fake Scott being beaten up was bad or if it was because he’d never seen big brother be this brutal, even towards their enemies. Whatever the reason, it involved Scott being the main root of the problem.

Wait, that was The Hood’s plan. Shit… make Scott act past the point of no return in a way that was unfamiliar to Alan so the kid couldn’t be fully sure who was who, and Scott fell right into his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

Fuck.

Bloody well done, Scott, you absolute moron.

Scott faltered a little bit, “A-Alan, I--”

That falter was enough for The Hood to break an arm out of his grip and elbow him in the face. In the brief second of freedom he had, he tried dashing towards Alan, but Scott was too quick for everyone’s good and soon had the imposter back in his arms, both of them struggling in a way that made them look like they were tied into the weirdest knot in existence.

Then, an earthquake struck.

No, literally.

A big shake of the abandoned compound threw the look-a-likes about and subsequently off the platform they were on. The place was old; it didn’t take a lot of weight for that guard rail they made their way over towards while fighting to snap right off. With a yelp, the two of them gripped the edge as much as they could and held on. Crap, I know we talked with Fuse about potentially setting some stuff off, but--

Blinking, Scott saw a familiar mop of blonde hair come into view. Alan was rather panicked, clearly not sure which Scott was the real Scott. Not only that, he had little time to decide which one to save. Goodie, another reason to despise The Hood: not only has he put Alan through weeks of torment, now he’s forcing the kid to decide to either save his oldest brother and biggest hero or his personal torturer.

And Alan won’t know until he picks.

Holy hell, this was getting worse by the second. Hopefully, big brother charm can work its magic and get them the hell out of there.

“Alan, quickly, over here!”

“I can’t hold on for much longer, Alan, hurry!”

The two Scotts glared at one another in the exact same way, not making Alan’s job much easier. Another shake, another slip down the metal cliff, more screams, and Alan looked ready to tear his hair out. Scott watched as the kid looked around rapidly, probably praying for a miracle in the process. Suddenly, the kid jumped when he must have spotted something important. Within the blink of an eye, he was gone and out of their range of visions to retrieve it.

Whatever the hell he noticed better be important, because if just ended up wasting precious time then--

Another shake, probably the last one. Still, it was enough.

Both their grips gave away at the same time, screams identical (God, did he always sound that wimpy?) as they plummeted to their demises. Scott was briefly able to look up to see his brother pop his head over the cliff like a chipmunk again and grab the (albeit broken) arm of The Hood and save him. Dammit, Scott should have expected that, though, that display of anger was uncharacteristic to Alan. Probably terrified him even more than he already was. Fuck, Scott deser--

Suddenly, a rope wrapped itself around Scott’s left arm and stopped his descent. Hard. Hopefully, it was only torn stuff, they didn’t have time to deal with dislocation--

Wait.

Scott wasn’t dead if he could think about these kinds of things.

Blinking, he looked at his arm to see the familiar rope of his grappling hook around his forearm. Moving his eyesight to look past that, he saw the wide, blue eyes of his baby brother struggling to stay on top. The Hood was using his non-broken side to try and climb his way back up to safety. Huh, that’s weird. When did Alan get ahold of that? Scott must have dropped it during his scuffle with--

That’s when it hit Scott.

Alan saved them both.

And it would be all for jack shit if Scott didn’t get his ass up there to help.

Panicking, Scott gripped the rope and started to ascend. He had two working arms and a smother complex to boot; it wasn’t long before he overtook a struggling Hood, who could only use one arm and a weakened brother (that bastard was so lucky Alan had a literal heart of gold).

Flinging his arms over the edge and pulling himself up-- and shrugging off the extra help Alan offered. Save your strength, baby bro-- Scott was in a much calmer search-and-destroy mode. He yanked his evil look-a-like up, turned him on his stomach, pinned him down, and before he could even watch Alan blink, “Sign something.”

There, now he watched Alan blink.

Scott pulled out one of his best ‘big brother’ smiles ever, “Tell me something in ASL. I don’t think The Hood learned that kind of etiquette.”

The body beneath him growled, making Alan jump and Scott tighten not only his hold but his glare. Further prove big brother’s point, why don’t cha? He lost the angry look immediately to grin at Alan once more, who seemed to be slowly getting the picture. With a gulp, the blonde slowly strung together a sentence that Scott had to laugh at, just a little bit.

Damn, could you teach me to fight like that, Scooter?

Nodding his head, Scott had to concede, “Sure. Consider it a graduation present.”

Alan blinked again, and the immense relief that washed over the boy’s shoulders would be enough to banish nightmares for at least a couple of days. Suddenly, The Hood’s disguise blinked out of existence, making both brothers jump that time. Scott didn’t falter in his grip, however. This man was going down right here and now, Scott thought darkly, staring at the prone body beneath his.

Scott saw Alan continue to sign out of the corner of his eye, You know you look like shit, right?

Scott chuckled. Alan was always able to put a smile on his face no matter the circumstances, “Yeah, well, kindred spirits, little bro.”

Scott was probably as pale as Alan was with such lack of sleep and food. Running on what was essentially a prolonged PTSD attack wasn’t healthy in the slightest, and no doubt whatever kind of bruises and scratches The Hood gave him didn’t help, however, seeing hope fill those deep-blue eyes when Alan learned he was truly being saved drowned everything out, including the way those freckles were getting lost in those eye bags.

Yeah, their entire family probably looked like shit, and the recovery process was going to be even shittier, but they were going to suffer through it together as a family would.

That made it all worth it.

Shuffling himself so one arm was free while the other kept The Hood pinned, Scott held it out towards Alan. The flinch the youngest made tore a hole in Scott’s heart that was only slightly patched when Alan leaned into the warmth and safety of his biggest bro. Long recovery process, remember? Regardless, Alan still took to the hug like a dehydrated zebra did a pond, and that was good enough for Scott.

The Hood groaned underneath them.

Yep, good enough.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #the hood #virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #my post #my fic #series: rules of alchemy

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albionscastle · 6 years

Text

First Impressions 7 - New Friends and Old Enemies

I’m writing slowly but I am writing!!!! I’m working two jobs right now so updates will be slow, but still coming.

There brief mentions of domestic violence, past, in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I actually really like Zac Efron but I thought he had the perfect look to be a Wickham character so there we go.

FIC MASTERLIST

FIRST IMPRESSIONS 7

NEW FRIENDS AND OLD ENEMIES

LIZZIE

Colin Ryan being back in town was an unexpected and decidedly unpleasant turn of events. It had been 3 years since she’d last seen him, hightailing it out of town after she’d threatened to expose his true nature. She still shivered in fear when she thought about that last day with him, how she’d finally gathered the courage to leave, the bruises on his ribs a stark reminder of his temper. Oh, he’d slapped her, pulled her hair, screamed in her face, but for the first time she’d felt strong, strong enough to get out. With all the proof she’d gathered there was nothing that he could do except let her go and get out of town.

She’d dealt with the fallout for a year, the gossip and the finger pointing, the bill that Colin’s parents had stuck her with for the wedding, not to mention the constant lamenting of her mother. The only person to ever know what had really happened was Maya, and as far as anyone else was concerned, well it was none of their fucking business.

Though now she knew for a fact that Lydia had known about it all along and after the incident with Colin the day before she was pretty sure that Jack and Tom had cottoned on to it too. She had shrunk, all her strength had gone until the moment Jack had taken her hand. Disgusted with herself and stunned at his thoughtfulness, Lizzie had spent the whole night tossing and turning, unable to quiet her thoughts, even with her medication.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she passed Maya and Lydia sound asleep on the couches. For all the issues Lyds had, she was staunchly loyal to her sisters and had been able to make her laugh. Waking her before 9am however merely guaranteed you a slew of obscenities and a bitchy mood for the rest of the day, didn’t matter who you were. Maya, though, woke to the smell of the coffee maker, shuffling into the kitchen quietly.

“How are you doing, Lizzie?”

Lizzie shrugged, taking another sip of her Death Wish under her sister’s disapproving eye.

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Drinking that crap won’t help. Did you take your meds?”

“Yes, mom, I did.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and kept sipping her coffee.

Maya was definitely the only one, other than her doctor, who knew about that. Lizzie even went so far as to have her prescription filled at the next town over, just so no one could add to the gossip. There was still so much stigma attached to her condition and the cause of it that it was best just to stay quiet.

“I’m sure he won’t be here long.”

“I don’t understand why he’s here at all. His parents moved away, retired to Aspen or some such shit. There’s absolutely no reason for him to be here.”

Maya nodded sympathetically, getting up to raid the fridge.

“Knowing that jerk I’m sure we’ll know sooner rather than later. But we aren’t going to let him get to us, right Liz?”

“Don’t worry about me, Maya. It was a shock seeing him yesterday, but now I know he’s here I can handle it. I won’t let him get to me again.”

“I’ll fucking kick him in the nuts if he ever comes near you again.” Lydia muttered, dragging herself over to the coffee machine.

“Language Lydia!”

“Bite me Maya.”

“Stop it you two.” Lizzie muttered.

After breakfast, which was more pleasant than expected with Lydia full of caffeine, they finished a rough draft of her paper and attempted to talk some sense into her about her wardrobe. As always it was a waste of time, but Lizzie would never stop trying.

They were meeting mary and Kate for lunch at the park, the first time all the sisters had been together since Kate’s birthday party. Mary’s job and the band meant she rarely left the city and kate had been kept fairly cloistered since she entered the convent, only able to communicate through letters. Lizzie missed them both terribly and unashamedly cried when she hugged Kate, looking both like a child and a grown up in her brown habit, her eyes as big and serious as ever.

“You look happy Katie.” Lizzie whispered, not willing to let her sister go.

“I am happy, Lizzie. The convent is so peaceful and we do so much outreach. It’s perfect for me.”

Kate, or Sister Mary Kate as she would soon be known, was the center of attention. From the city Mary was in contact almost daily, especially with Maya who went to class close to where she worked. Seeing her was a happy extension of the texts and calls that were normal. Her girlfriend was a little hesitant at first, but Kate was ecstatic to meet her and quickly erased her fears of being accepted. It was just perfect, sitting on their blankets, eating and talking, just the 6 of them. Any residual ill feeling that Lizzie had about Colin was swept away in the balm of her sisters.

A soccer ball suddenly flew towards them, expertly caught by kate before it could destroy their picnic. Hot on it’s heels was a man, shirtless and so well built that even katie was gawking open mouthed.

“Sorry ladies, it just got away from me.” His perfect white smile spread across his face as he took in each of the girls in turn.

For her part, Lizzie had never seen a more gorgeous man her whole life. He turned that megawatt smile onto her and she couldn’t help but respond in kind, her cheeks flushing as he looked her up and down before holding out his hand.

“Hi, name’s Brad, Grad Wick.”

JACK

Jack couldn’t sleep, he was still wide awake at 2am, his brain refusing to shut off. He tossed and turned, kicking the blankets off then pulling them up again. He warmed milk in the tiny suite microwave and even counted sheep, but nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Elizabeth cowering in front of Colin Ryan.

It pissed him off.

If there was one thing he hated it was men who abused women. It didn’t matter which woman, he abhorred it. Had Caro come to him saying she’d been hit he would have felt the same way, despite how much he disliked her. There was no excuse for violence in a relationship and least of all against someone as small as Elizabeth Bennet. He didn’t even want to imagine the extent of the abused, but his mind of course had other ideas. Instead of sleeping he’d been he’d been laying there while increasingly worse scenarios had flashed in his head.

With a 5 am call time he decided there was no use in trying to sleep any longer. He stumbled out to the bathroom, hanging his head under the cold shower spray to try and clear the cobwebs. What the fuck was wrong with him lately? Honestly this shoot couldn’t be over quickly enough in his opinion, he needed to get home, walk the glenns and get his shit together. He was a grown man, successful, in demand and yet this one bloody woman had managed to derail his peace of mind. It didn’t matter how pretty, smart or nice she was, they were from two different worlds. When he left Indiana in November he would never see her again.

The twinge he felt in his chest at that thought was something he was going to ignore.

She’d hugged him though, held his hand.

He tried to tell himself it was just the situation, that she would have done the same with Tom. The part of him that he wanted to shut up disagreed, that traitorous voice was telling him that Elizabeth might actually like him. They were both adults and maybe her prickliness was just a product of her former relationship. He just had to be….less aggressive, more….

“Don be an eejit.” he muttered as he dressed. “The last thing ye need is a fuckin woman complicatin the shite outa things.”

Lizzie wasn’t a roll in the hay type of woman and that’s all he wanted. One and done, no complications, no emotions, no phone calls, no nothing. He’d vowed he’d never let another woman close after Lisa and he needed to keep to that. No distracting redheads. He would be polite and nothing more.

If he ended each day imagining how good she might feel beneath him, or astride him, her hair falling around them both, then so be it. Taking himself in hand was infinitely preferable to the fallout that would come from being intimately involved with a Bennet.

Determined, and his mind made up, Jack was feeling a lot better when he arrived on set. Even Caro had backed off enough that he didn't dread being at work anymore, all he had to do was get through the next six weeks and he’d be home. There were any number of discrete, gorgeous women he could entice to bed if he wanted. By Christmas all this bullshit would be in the past.

“Jack!” Tom was trotting to catch up with him as he left the set for the day. “Do you want to do for a run?”

Jack was pretty sure that Tom’s new love of running was based more on necessity than a desire to exercise. With the lovely Maya no longer sharing his bed every night, the lad needed to run off all that sexual frustration.

And so did he if he was completely honest.

The late September weather was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of July and August in Indiana and Jack barely broke a sweat as they jogged around the lakefront park. His endorphins had him feeling much better and the physical exercise would certainly ensure a good night’s sleep.

“Hold up mate!” Tom panted, bending over to catch his breath.

“Ye ain’t givin up already are ye lad?”

“Just give me a second old man.” Tom groaned. “Not all of us have your stamina.”

“Hence why ye still have the body of a teenage boy.”

“Shut it Angel Face.”

Jack winced slightly, apparently some fans had likened his unshaven face to something like a cherub and Tom hadn’t let it go since. His aversion to the comparison was a constant source of delight to Tom, who seemed to love nothing more than getting under his skin.

Snarky cunt.

He pushed Tom a little further before taking pity on him and slowing to a walk. The park was full of people, families picnicking and using the playgrounds, couples walking hand in hand. If he felt a twinge of envy, he quickly shoved it down deep. Alone was better, alone was safe.

“Tom! Jack!” Lydia’s loud call couldn’t be ignored and he groaned inwardly as Tom trotted off in the direction of the Bennet sisters.

All five of them were there, but Jack saw only one. Elizabeth sat, leaning on her elbows and laughing at the man who sat with them. He had never seen her smile like that at him, in fact he was pretty sure this was the first time he’d ever seen her really laugh.

His gut twisted.

Tom was already sitting down, an arm around Maya, commenting on Mary’s tattoo. Kate, the novice nun, smiled warmly at him and he moved closer. The memory of Elizabeth’s hand in his bolstered him, even though she was no longer laughing. He raised a hand in greeting, getting a curt nod in response.

“How are ye all doin?” Jack was about to sit down when the breath was knocked out of him in shock.

The man beside Elizabeth turned and Jack felt himself freeze, anger and disgust rolling through him.

What the fuck was that piece of shit doing there?

He looked at Elizabeth who seemed confused, then at Bradley Wick who sat there smirking, daring him to say something.

That would have been a mistake.

Instead he turned, without saying a word, and walked away.

LIZZIE

He really was a rude bastard. She watched as Jack walked away, a stunned looking Tom hot on his heels. Just when she thought there was a slight that she might have misjudged him, he had just merely reinforced her dislike of him.

Arrogant, uptight assclown.

“Nice to see some things never change.” Brad remarked wryly from beside her.

“You know Jack?”

“Shit, I’ve known him since drama school. He was just as big a cock back then.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed, something in Jack’s eyes had seemed deeply shocked when he’d seen Brad. there was definitely more to this story.

“Bastard never liked me. Too full of himself to pay attention to lowly nobodies like me.” Brad laughed quietly.

“Seems like there might be some history there.” Lizzie cautiously, curious despite herself.

“You noticed that did you?”

“Kinda hard not to.”

Brad’s handsome face looked sad as he took a deep breath. Lizzie instantly felt sorry for him, having a feeling that what he was about to say hurt him.

“Jack was a year behind me at drama school, we met when we were both going out for a play. He seemed like a great guy, until I got the part instead of him. Then he found out that I’d grown up in an orphanage in Leeds. After that he did everything he could to ruin me. He’s talented, don’t get me wrong, I would have been more than happy to share roles, but no. It escalated in his second year, he was cast as my understudy in a play. It just got worse until eventually he got me fired, he stashed coke in my dressing room. I had a record from when I was a teen so when he told the director, well I was done. I got booted out of school for that too. Jack ended up with an agent and a slew of offers.”

“That’s awful.” Lizzie admitted.

She honestly hadn’t imagined that Jack was that much of a prick.

“I made do.” Brad shrugged. “He was young, insecure, and a lot of people do worse in our line of work.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Lizzie sputtered. “Was that the last time you had contact?”

“I wish.” Brad murmured, looking at the ground. “I ran into him again last year on set. He didn’t recognize me at first, not for a few weeks. The girl he was with, Lisa, sweet girl. He treated her like shit, I found her crying one day and sat with her, he saw me with her and dragged her off. Next day I saw her getting in the cab to leave, her lip was all busted. I was fired the same day.”

Lizzie felt sick to her stomach, her head spinning. It was worse than she’d ever imagined, she never would have thought that he was violent. A vision of him standing beside her the day before, facing off Colin, came unbidden. The fucking nerve of him! To act like that when he’d done the exact same thing himself!

Her stomach protested for the rest of the afternoon as she fought to engage with her family. Brad had left soon after Jack, apologetic and charming. He’d offered to take her to dinner, something she’d rain-checked. What she wanted to do was to talk to Maya, to try and process what she’d just heard.

After they’d visited their parents and Lizzie had been forced to listen to her mother informing her that she’d run into ‘dear Colin’ at the store, she finally managed to take Maya aside, imparting everything she’d learned from Brad. She’d been as shocked as expected, her eyes wide as Lizzie spoke.

“I always thought he was just prickly.” Maya gasped. “Figured he would warm up eventually.”

“As if, he’s been a dick since the day we met him.”

Maya looked thoughtful as Lizzie paced back and forth in a tizzy.

“I can’t believe the fucking nerve of him. Where does he get off acting like he’s so much better than everyone else? It makes me sick Maya.”

“Maybe Brad was mistaken?”

“I doubt it Maya.” Lizzie snapped. “The guy was practically in tears when he was done. What possible reason could he have to lie?”

“I didn’t say lie, Lizzie, but maybe Jack wasn’t responsible for all his bad luck.”

Lizzie leveled her sister with a hard glare, she really was naive at times.

“You can’t talk him out of this one Mai, you just can’t. He hit his girlfriend!”

“Yeah, I guess you really can’t argue with that. But what about Tom? Why would he be his friend?”

“I’ll bet any amount of money that Tom has no idea. Jack’s an actor, he can make himself into anyone he wants.”

“What do we do?”

“Nothing. He’ll be gone in a few weeks. Just don’t expect me to have anything to do with the asshole. I love Tom to death, but not even for you will I associate with an abuser.

“I understand. I’m just so sorry this happened.”

“I’m not, because now we know the truth of what he is.”

Even Maya couldn’t see the good in him now, and she was the one who liked everyone. By the time Lizzie got back to the apartment she’d apologized several times in text for sticking up for him. It didn’t matter, she thought sourly as she sat in her living room window, she never had to see him again unless she chose to. She was just grateful she’d found out now, instead of after she’d invited him to lunch to say thank you. He didn’t deserve a thank you, he deserved to be outed. Why Brad never had she understood, Lisa was an actress and he’d wanted to spare her the scandal. Besides Jack probably wouldn’t hesitate to ruin them both if the truth was even so much as hinted at. As much as Lizzie wanted everyone to know what a creep he was, she wouldn’t do that to Brad.

“How did everything get so fucked up?” she sighed, realising for the first time how utterly unsatisfied she was with everything.

Her life had been in a holding pattern since she’d called off the wedding and if Brad could overcome what he had then there was nothing to stop her.

It was time to stop being afraid to live.

JACK

Bradley Wick! Just when he thought he’d seen the last of the cunt here he was, as always, just in the shadows of his life. Everywhere he’d stepped in the last decade Wick was there, at least in his mind. The bastard haunted him, the mistake of attempting to be the man’s friend and co-worker was something he lived with everyday.

Seeing him with Elizabeth made his blood boil, it was as if the man knew exactly who would hurt him the most and that’s who he targeted. The only reason he’d walked away was so the ladies didn’t have to witness him pounding Wick into a pulp. That and the assault charge stemming from that would ruin his career. Brad would of course come out smelling like roses, just like he always did.

“Jack, mate. Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“Nope.” he took a shot of whiskey, weighing up the pros and cons of just drinking from the bottle.

“Seriously man, I’m worried. I’ve not seen you like this before.”

“I’m fine Tom.” another shot. “I have history with Bradley Wick, thas all. None of it good.”

“That’s all I’m going to get?”

“Yup.” If he played his cards right he could be blind drunk before it even got dark.

“I don’t like this Jack. This isn’t like you.”

“Too bad, is me now. Take me or leave me, I donna care.”

Tom just shook his head, disappearing out the door, no doubt to see Maya.

It bothered him.

The fact that he liked Elizabeth Bennet bothered him.

He was jealous of Tom, who could give himself so easily.

The fact that he couldn’t read Lizzie bothered him, her elusiveness both enticing and infuriating.

Bradley Wick suddenly being in town enraged him.

Everything had gone to shit.

Himself included.

He couldn't wait to leave this shithole, not that he had much to look forward to in London, but it was better to miserable in familiar surroundings. As far away as he could get from Elizabeth, Brad, all of them. Callum would knock some sense into him over Christmas he was sure, his little brother never failed to be the logical one. Had he listened to Callum in the first place, the two years he'd wasted with Lisa would never have happened. None of his family had ever really liked her and made no secret of their feelings, Jack had just been too stubborn to listen.

Look where that had landed him.

He didn't have the stomach to finish the whiskey, drinking the night away had gotten old in his early twenties. Losing his head was also most certainly not the way to deal with the situation?

Should he warn the Bennets?

They wouldn't believe him, no one ever did. Wick had this fucking gift of charming his way out of every situation and he already had door in the door. Nothing Jack could say now would hold any sway, plus he would have to admit his own guilt and shame in past events. He wasn't ready for that, for the disappointment and the accusation, he got enough of that from his own mind.

He found himself wandering, the sun dipping below the horizon, the breeze from the lake chilly. Jack told himself he was just going to get dinner at the only good restaurant in town and that it had nothing to do with the place being directly across from Elizabeth's movie theatre apartment.

He kept telling himself that as he sat alone in the window with his food, watching her shadow as she read a book behind the curtains. He watched her lights go out at 8:30, tipped his waitress well and shuffled back to the hotel, ready to fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Hoping to escape from himself for just a little while.

#jack lowden x reader #jack lowden #jack lowden blurb #jack lowden fanfiction #jack lowden fic #pride and prejudice au

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thedarklightwithinus · 6 years

Note

Hi, I was just wondering if you have any tips on getting better as a writer, and any pointers on how you get your writing out there and noticed! Thanks! (P.s. love your fics!)

Oh, wow… I never imagined anyone asking me for pointers on anything, let alone writing! I’m so glad you like my work!

If I’m being completely honest, the most important thing (for me) is knowledge. This could mean knowledge of a variety of things. E.G; if you’re writing a story based on Game of Thrones, it is only common sense that you know enough about the books/series and enough about the characters you’re going to be using in your story. There’s really nothing worse than someone who writes about a topic they know nothing about.

It is also a good idea to research anything you are going to be using that is a key part to your story. E.G; If you’re main character has a illness, say epilepsy, it would be a great idea to do some research on the condition and understand it before you add it into your story.

Be sure to proof read a good few times and insure you have all the correct punctuation.

One thing I cannot stress enough is to just have fun. When I look back at some of my old work, I can’t comprehend half of what I’ve written because I was just finding my rhythm. As you continue to write more and more, you’ll notice just how easy it is to put words down.

As for getting your writing out there and noticed, I think it’s important to use the right tags. For me, it wasn’t to hard to get reads (I was ecstatic!) As you continue to put stories out there, people will begin to notice and in return, look for other work you have done.

Once again, HAVE FUN!!!!

The keyboard is your oyster.

#asks #writing #I love u guys #so much #thankful

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thestraggletag · 6 years

Text

La Chacarita, a Rumbelle Revelry Fic

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4,557

Summary: The closer we are to the dead, the closer we are to Death.

Prompt Used: Being Hunted.

A/N: The story is based on an actual urban legend here in Buenos Aires. It is so particular to here and to what really makes Chacarita so... unique that I couldn’t really set it elsewhere. It’s been great getting to write something set in my home city and I tried to give it a Buenos Aires feel without hitting you over the head with references 24/7. Enjoy!

For visuals to help with the story go here.

The weather was the worst of it. Hot and humid to the point that he'd been forced to retire his waistcoats and pull out his less-used suits with more breathable, less weighty fabric but an easy-to-crease finish. He outright refused to wear linen, clinging to cotton instead, but it was unpleasant nevertheless. The heat wasn't a problem as much as the humidity was, an ever-permanent fixture of the city. The people were overly-friendly, knowing little about personal space. Every new person he met, however fleetingly, he was expected to kiss on the cheek, never mind he'd barely touched another human being for years. They drove like mad people, though pedestrians seemed to manage around that fact just fine, and every fucking day there was some sort of street protest that made navigating the city at all an impossible matter. Buenos Aires was, in Gold's opinion, a fucking nightmare. And yet Neal had loved it enough to relocate his entire life there. And to specify he wanted to be buried there, instead of being shipped back to Storybrooke... to him.

They had parted in such bad terms. He'd never forget the look on Neal's face, not of anger but of disappointment. Their relationship had always been strained ever since he'd gone away to college, and gotten the first glimpse of the big, big world. Suddenly Storybrooke wasn't enough, and going back home for the holidays became stifling. The moment he'd graduated he'd gotten work as a photographer in New York and hadn't looked back. He'd been angry at first, resentful of the easiness with which Neal had turned his back on him. Later he'd grown remorseful of having pushed Neal away in his resentment, but by that time their relationship was forever strained. After some years of nothing but tense holiday phone-calls and the occasional text Neal had reached out and Gold thought it was the beginning of something better.

But then Neal had told him of his plan to travel and work his way through the world and he'd grown mad. Livid, even. Neal hadn't gotten angry, as it was usually the case with one of his spats, but he had quietly told him that he couldn't stay put forever. Didn't want to live scared of the world like him.

It was like hearing Milah all those years ago, spitefully calling him a coward. Only it was his son, who used to look up to him so, saying it with quiet disappointment.

After that there had been radio silence for a couple of years. He followed his blog avidly, reading about his travels in Asia and Central America before he seemed to settle down in Montevideo and, later, Buenos Aires. And he made the city look good, with its mixture of French and Italian architecture and its sunny weather. A few months later, when he'd called, he'd been ecstatic. Neal had urged him to fly to Argentina, to take a long-overdue vacation. And though he hadn't said no he'd kept postponing it, never quite booking a flight.

And then Neal had died.

He hadn't known he was sick, hadn't known anything until a friend of his had e-mailed him with the news of his death and burial. After a night of drinking and crying he'd turned his grief into action and tried to get the body back to the US, to bury him at the local cemetery where he'd always be able to take care of the gravestone and the memories. But Neal had left an airtight will and specific, recorded instructions regarding his burial. And for some reason he'd wanted to be laid to rest at the other end of the world... that, Gold thought, was a reflection of how much his son hated him.

He was quick to set everything up with his lawyers and accountant for an extended leave from the US, getting into contact with a reliable Argentine firm to handle his taking possession of Neal's things. He'd been renting an apartment in a trendy neighbourhood called Palermo, near the Botanical Gardens, which appeared often on his blog. He toyed with the idea of staying in the apartment, which was apparently paid till the end of November, but thought it'd be too much, choosing instead to book a nice suite at the Marriott-Plaza, in the posh Retiro, overlooking the sprawling mass that was Plaza San Martín. He had to admit the city was bursting at the seams with green, the kind he'd seldom seen before. Plant life sprouted from every nook and cranny, the street lined with trees. He'd arrived in time to see an event his son had documented in detail: the flowering of jacaranda trees, which lost all their leaves to make room for what seemed like thousands upon thousands of small, bell-shaped lavender flowers, that ended up forming a purple carpet on the sidewalks and streets. It was beautiful, heat and humidity and all, but it rankled at him. Beauty and cheer seemed out of place for what he'd come to Buenos Aires to do, put his son's affairs in order and ship what remained of him to the States. He'd decided he'd pick some personal belongings, put them in a coffin and bury them and Storybrooke Cemetery so he'd have a place to go to, something to visit.

Stepping into his son's apartment was hard. It was full of him, of his personality and quirks. Deciding what to keep and what to donate occupied most of his time, and it was when he was trying to decide what to do with the potted plants on the balcony that he met Neal's neighbour, Belle French. At first it was the delicious luxury of speaking to someone in fluent English that drawn him in- most Argentinians spoke it, thankfully, but their choppy, Italian-sounding accent grated on his nerves, reminded him of where he was and why he was there. Belle French had a charming Australian lilt, a mixture between posh British and something wild, and had been in Buenos Aires for a few years. She was a bit younger than him, in her early forties probably, with brown hair and startling blue eyes. She had a soft yet pushy way about her, and had introduced herself immediately upon spotting him in the balcony, acting like she'd somehow been expecting him. She'd completely disregarded his social awkwardness, immediately inviting him to her apartment for a cup of tea- tea, good tea, was hard to come by in a city of coffee lovers, but Miss French told him of a gem in Avenida Corrientes called El Gato Negro, whose loose tea, he had to admit, was exquisite- and some medialunas- and God, were medialunas good.

From then on, she'd been a staple of his days, sometimes the only person he held a conversation with all day. He knew of her before, of course. Neal had mentioned her often, in her blog and in conversations, to the point that he'd at first thought that he'd harboured a bit of a crush for her. Later he'd started dating a rather stunning blond and so he'd dismissed his original impression.

But it was clear Belle and Neal had been close, from how she talked about him. And as a different picture began to form itself in his head Gold grew resentful and angry. She'd acted as a sort of a guide for Neal, and later on the implication was that she became a sort of mother-figure, a parent to the still-young Neal. Other than Neal's girlfriend, a close-lipped American who seemed reluctant to tell him anything about his boy's last few months, Belle was the only source of information he had about Neal in Buenos Aires excluding his blog, and she seemed both willing and able to help with the details regarding dealing with Neal's will and his personal belongings. There was an air of loss about her that he found both comforting and insulting, a part of him feeling he ought to be to only one mourning Neal in any meaningful way. He had raised him, had thrown his childhood birthday parties, had walked him to school on his first day, had sat by his bedside whenever he'd been sick...

Only that last part wasn't entirely true. Only Belle French had been the one to sit by his bedside the last time, the most meaningful one. She'd shared with him of his son's last days, of the peace that had seemed to envelop him and he'd hated and loved her for telling him, for knowing he needed to hear it.

She became so indispensable to his efforts, and so vital in the way she could account for Neal's last days and could help him navigate everyday life in Buenos Aires that as much as he wanted to push her away he didn't. Or so he told himself every time he sat down in her living-room- or was it a library? Every room in her home seemed like a library- listening to her tell him about her happenings at her job in the AACI library, funny anecdotes about Neal or sometimes more hard-to-swallow details about his illness. She'd always break out some of the nicer patisserie treats when he enquired about his son's last days, as if she sought to soften the blow with cañoncitos and masas finas. And then, whenever he found himself lowering his defences, whenever he seemed too tired to hold on to the inexplicable, unreasonable animosity he felt towards her, she'd say something about Neal, pointing out a preferred masita, a particular taste or habit he'd acquired in Buenos Aires, and he'd retreat instantly, anger coiling again in his gut.

His attraction to her, rather than lessen the dark turn of his thoughts, seemed to enhance it. The way he sometimes caught himself staring at her hair, the way it softened her rather sharp features and contrasted with her eyes, the way he got a little thrill every time she smiled or chuckled at one of his rather dark jokes, it all seemed to only make him angrier at her, more resentful. Neal was his ghost to mourn, his child to grieve, and yet Belle spoke of him as if he was her own too, as if she'd gotten to know what being a parent was like in the measly time she'd shared with Neal as an adult. It didn't work that way, it didn't. For better or worse Gold was Neal's parent, irreplaceable and definite.

He hadn't planned on telling her so, had remained resolute to keep it to himself. And it was strange how he found himself breaking that resolution not in a moment of anger but in a moment of strange tenderness. Belle had offered to show him some pictures Neal had sent to her via WhatsApp, pictures he'd never seen before, and had left for a moment to use the bathroom. Gold, guiltily, had scrolled down the conversation, eager for one more glimpse of Neal's personality, his easy-going nature. And there he'd noticed that Neal called Belle "Mama". And though he knew, he knew, it was likely some sort of inside joke, some horrible, petty part of him roared awake.

What had followed after that felt like a bad dream. He'd cut right into Belle, into what his manipulating, scheming nature had noticed. He'd torn into every weakness, had used every bit of his abilities to forcefully push her away, rip her from whatever place she'd attached herself to, somehow.

"He was my family, mine. Yours is long dead but this is my pain to suffer, my loss. I'm sorry you're alone in the world, dearie, but you had no right to take advantage of my son's nature and weasel your way into a family."

The moment he said it he knew that he'd gone too far, that he'd crossed a horrible line out of fear. Belle's face had gone completely blank in a way that was unnatural in someone so expressive. She had then calmly taken her phone from him, told him she'd see him to the cemetery when he was ready and walked out. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of her since then and tried to tell himself it was for the best, in the end. He'd stayed too long in Buenos Aires, had lingered too long where the memory of his boy's last days was. He needed to say goodbye, a proper goodbye, and be gone.

La Chacarita could not be avoided any longer.

The neo-classical entrance was a pale pink, washed out by the sun and turned into an almost peachy colour. He was almost sure that, like all other old buildings, it had originally been painted with a mixture of blood and lime, but it seemed more than a bit tacky to have done so to a cemetery entrance. The cemetery itself had apparently been created in a rush to house the remains of victims of the 1871 yellow fever epidemic. Unlike its posh counterpart, La Recoleta Cemetery, La Chacarita was... rawer, far less polished. There was an air of pathetic decay about it even if it was well-kept by the city. Some pantheons were veritable works of art and others were old, dilapidated mausoleums crammed together into diminutive, spectral cities of tombs. But by far the most garish sight was that of the "nichos", veritable walls of tombs, small squares with nothing but a plaque to identify the remains. Some looked clean, with small flower arrangements attached, while others looked abandoned and some of them were smashed open, the corpses, hopefully, long removed.

When Belle turned towards one of the sunnier, neater parts of the cemetery he sighed in relief, knowing that seeing his son's name in one of those ghastly niches would have broken him. He'd bought a rather large flower arrangement, a bright collection of chrysanthemums, and he made a big deal of arranging them in the vase he'd brought with them, after Belle managed to find a tap to fill it up. The quiet of the moment unnerved him. Belle was naturally prone to chatter, or to in some way communicate, whether with her body language or otherwise, but she remained closed off from him, either smarting from their fight or giving him what she thought he wanted. What he'd thought he wanted.

It made it real, seeing Neal's grave. It was nice and modest and his name was spelt correctly. It was also heavily decorated with polaroid stills, drawings and posts its with final messages, all the marks of someone who'd been well-loved. And that reminder of how social and outgoing Neal had been, how different from him, warmed him a bit.

After a while Belle left his side, though he knew she was hanging around. It gave him the opportunity to whisper all his regrets into the still-fresh soil of his son's grave, tell him of all his mistakes and how sorry he was. He talked until he was hoarse, until he could not think of anything left to say. After years of pauses and silences he'd finally been allowed to say his peace.

But Neal would never get to say his.

It felt like a job half-done, like he'd almost had that one last conversation with his son, but not at the same time.

At some point Belle came back to his side, and he could tell without much looking at her that she'd soften towards him. He must have looked downright pitiful, the way he'd been bawling his eyes out and kneeling all day, making his limps heavier than ever before. He didn't begrudge her support when she leant it, though he resented her better nature. It was darker than he'd imagined it'd be, and the outside of the cemetery was deserted but for a newspaper stand in which an old couple drank mate. It took the longest time to see any signs of a taxi, even though the crossroads of Avenida Corrientes and Federico Lacroze was one of the popular exists to the cemetery, and they'd almost given up when one appeared as if of nowhere. Usually taxis in the city were new-but-not-much Renault models, with some Peugeots scattered about, but this one was an old Ford Falcon, kept in rather pristine condition. Though it sported a taxi medallion it did not have one of the tell-tale signs that indicated it belonged to a radio-taxi company and he'd been advised to avoid such for fear of robbery. But it was late and the taxi driver looked old, thin and tame and stared fixatedly at him when he pulled up instead of shying away from possible future recognition.

"No, señor, no, no ese taxi. José, José, paralos, por Dios!"

The lady in the newspaper stand seemed to be pitching a fit as they pulled out of the street, calling for her now-absent male companion as if there was some sort of emergency. Everyone shouted in Buenos Aires, for the stupidest sort of reasons. It was a loud city full of crass, loud people. And now that he'd visited his boy he could finally make plans to leave. He hadn't gotten around doing a lot of the things he'd read about on Bae's blog, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He felt... empty. Casting a furtive look to Belle on the other side of the backseat he saw she'd closed her eyes and was apparently trying to sleep. He'd run himself ragged the past few weeks seeing to Neal's things but so had she, every day for weeks after work. And he'd thanked her by reminding her that she had no family to call her own. By taking Neal away from her.

An uncomfortable wave of guilt washed over him, making him squirm. To busy himself he buttoned his suit jacket up, feeling cold creeping into his very bones. For an old Ford Falcon the AC system was state of the line, silent enough that he couldn't pick up on it and dreadfully good at lowering the inner temperature of the cab. He stared out the window at what looked like an almost deserted street, few cars passing them by, getting the strangest urge to fall asleep.

A glance at the sideview mirror on his side, though, caught his attention and woke him up: amid the sleek, usually grey- Argentinian's cars were all diverse shades... of grey- cars there was a smaller, older model, speeding down the street at an amazing, chaotic sort of speed, its lights flashing. A feeling of dread came over him, especially as the cab began to take turns only for the car to follow along, reckless as ever. At some point it began to honk, and fully-fledged fear took over Mr Gold. His harsh childhood and difficult adolescence had geared in him a survival instinct, the ability to sense danger on a deep, primal level. And it had never flared before quite like it was then.

"Belle, I'm sorry, but could you tell the driver... Belle?"

He first noticed one streak of grey hair, then another, until he counted at least five. The change to her fully-brown hair was so stark he didn't notice at first how pale she looked, and how gaunt. When he raised a trembling hand to touch her the skin beneath the pads of his fingers felt icy-cold. He tried shaking her but she didn't wake up or even stir. In a panicky half-English-half-Spanish he told the driver to get to the nearest hospital and though he got no reply the taxi began to go faster and seemed to change course. A quick glance back at the window, though, let him know the other car was still following them, having almost caught up to the backseat window. It was a beaten-up yellow Bug, the kind that he hadn't seen in years. Its colour was faded and looking directly at it made it seem blurry. The driver was a young man with shaggy hair and...

"Papa! Papa! Get out!"

It was Neal.

He wanted to talk, to shout and bang the window and tell the taxi driver to stop but it felt as if someone had drained the vitality out of him. Glancing at his reflecting in the window made him aware he, like Belle, was deathly pale, and gaunt.

"Papa, get Belle and get out of the cab! Jump out!"

Hearing his son panicking jolted Gold into action. A quick look at the rear-view mirror showed him what, for some reason, he'd not noticed till then: the cab driver was almost skeletal in appearance, eyes wide and black and skin tight against his bones. Whatever it was it didn't seem like it planned on slowing down, so he gathered his courage, unlocked the door on his side and held on to Belle, throwing himself and her out of the moving vehicle with as much care as possible. Even so the impact stole the air from his lungs, and all the strength he had left, leaving him with only enough to roll them both towards the safety of the sidewalk. A sharp glance around showed no sign of the taxi or the Yellow Bug, and it was only then that Gold allowed exhaustion to overtake him.

When he next opened his eyes, Belle was staring down at him, one of her hands gently combing his hair back. She looked pale still, but awake and smiling at him, relieved. With a bit of effort, having left his cane on the taxi, they got themselves on their feet, realising that, for some reason, the taxi had lead them back to the cemetery. It only took them a few steps to encounter the old couple in the newsstand again and the woman rushed to their side as soon as she saw them, shouting in Spanish and herding them towards where the older man was. He looked relieved and friendly enough, vacating his chair for Gold just as the old woman gently sat Belle down in hers. They said much, though most was lost on him. Belle listened, though, and slowly began to give him an idea of what the couple was saying.

"They tried to warn us about the taxi, apparently. It's... it's notorious here in Chacarita. Takes people from the cemetery, drives them around, and the next morning they're dead on the grave of whoever they were visiting. The cab... it senses... grief? It's attracted to it, somehow. They're surprised we're alive."

The couple shoved small glasses of a brown liquid smelling strongly of herbs in their hands. A sip told him it was Fernet, and though he hated it with as much passion as the Argies seemed to love it he had to admit it did a wonderful job of warming him up and soothing him. Belle sipped gently at hers, still intent on whatever the couple was saying.

"They want to know how we escaped... How did we? How did you know, how did you not fall asleep?"

Slowly, brokenly, he told her about what he'd seen. Told her of the yellow Bug, and Neal shouting for them to get out of the cab. When Belle went to hold his hand, he grabbed tight to hers, surprised when he noticed telling her about seeing Neal hadn't left him as raw and exposed as he'd feared. It was different with her, different for reasons he'd been trying hard to rage against. With his permission, she told the old couple, who seemed to nod wisely, as if unsurprised by the notion.

"Los de La Chacarita cuidan de los suyos. Su hijo debió haberlo querido mucho para poder manifestarse como lo hizo."

Belle's eyes went soft as she translated.

"She said the people from the Chacarita Cemetery... they look after their own. She said that your son must have loved you very much, to be able to manifest like he did. And he did. He told me so over and over, I want you to know that."

He managed a tremulous whisper of a smile at that.

"He was such a loving boy, always. I'm sorry for wanting to jealously keep it all to myself. I'm glad he knew you, I'm glad he loved you. And how could he not?"

Whether it was the near-death experience or the ghostly apparition of his son come to save him, something felt like it had changed on a fundamental level. He felt... freer than he had in a while, daring and open. The old couple fussed over them good-naturedly, showing the classical Argentine dislike for space that this time he found comforting. When they felt healthy enough they called a radio-taxi, checking twice to see that the cab driver looked normal and the taxi itself did as well. Gold gave the old man directions and for a while there was comfortable silence in the backseat, only interrupted once when Gold inhale deeply at having Belle's hand sneak into his and hold tight. He wondered again about all the times Neal had mentioned Belle, how he'd talked about her quirky humour, her love of books and antiques and her good looks and a new, funny idea occurred to him: Neal was playing matchmaker. And though of course it seemed to him utter foolishness to think someone like Belle would ever look his way he couldn't deny the way she looked at him sometimes, as if she wanted to explore him all over. With a sign such as that it felt almost easy to be brave for a change.

"There's a lovely ice-cream shop near my hotel, Rapanui. It's open until ungodly hours, and I think we could both use some sugar in our systems. Would you... I mean, would you let me treat you?"

Belle's smile was radiant, though it turned a bit shy as she tucked a few locks of hair behind her ear.

"I'd be happy to, if you don't mind being seen with an old lady. I will have to start researching hair dyes, though it certainly beats the alternative."

In for a penny, in for a pound, Gold traced some of the silver streaks, pleased when she seemed to lean into the touch.

"I rather like them, myself. They suit you."

He'd tell her so again over ice-cream, and in the days to follow. And she would finally believe him one night while out on the balcony of his hotel suite, him wearing a bathrobe and her the bedsheets, looking a bit like some untouchable Greek goddess. And below them the city would be noisy and bright and strangely beautiful, and they'd talk about buying seasonal tickets for El Colón and doing Gallery Nights on Friday, and Gold would tuck away the secret of having looked into the paperwork involved in staying in Argentina. Retiro had a sprawling, thriving antiques business, the food was heavenly and he'd begun to take Spanish lessons. The World Cup was fast approaching and as a true Scotsman he'd grown up rooting for whoever England hated the most, which usually meant Argentina. It was a horrible place, but it was also wonderful and he had lots of things from Neal's list still pending.

He still had a lot of life to live. Death would have to drive around the city and wait.

#rumbelle revelry #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #La Chacarita

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maiden-of-gondor · 7 years

Text

The Magizoologist and The Siren

Paring- Newt Scamander X Siren/human Reader

A/N- go check out @newts-case-of-imagines version as well that she will be posting soon, she’s an amazing writer! Also go check out Dark Waltz by Hayley Westenra it’s the song sung in this fic, it’s beautiful.

Warnings- None just Newt being a cinnamon roll

Summary- How would Newt react to meeting dolphin and a beautiful siren

Based off of my image, link here-> http://gondorgirl01.tumblr.com/post/155730774528/can-we-just-take-a-moment-and-imagine-newt

Word count- 2200 ops

It was a warm pleasant June day of 1920, the wind was soft and the sun peeked out from the cotton-like clouds to say hello to down below. A beautiful siren sat on a rock called Heron’s Nest, in the bay. The young siren was arranging a crown of delicate shells and shining pearls upon her (H/C) head. Her voice rang out a melody her mother taught her as a child.

*We are the lucky ones We shine like a thousand suns When all of the color runs together

I’ll keep you company In one glorious harmony Waltzing with destiny forever

Dance me into the night Underneath the moon shining so bright Turning me into the light

Time dancers whirling past I gaze through the looking glass And feel just beyond my grasp is heaven

Sacred geometry Where movement is poetry Visions of you and me forever

Dance me into the night Underneath the moon shining so bright Turning me into the light

Dance me into the night Underneath the full moon shining so bright Let the dark waltz begin

Oh let me wheel, let me spin Let it take me again Turning me into the light*

After she had finished her melody she heard a applaud of a dolphin. The siren looked to the below her and there swam Rosie, her befriended dolphin.

“Why thank you, that’s quiet kind of you to say.” The siren’s voice laugh out.

Rosie squeaked out again telling news to her friend.

“A wizard with a hippocampus!?” The siren cried “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She said irritated.

The dolphin squeaked out irritated by her comment.

“Okay okay! I get it! Lead me to where he is.” She sighed out then followed the now guiding dolphin.

Rosie lead the siren to an abandoned muggle dock. There kneeled a man with cinnamon colored hair with the hippocampus in water, at the edge of the dock.

The siren swam closer to the wizard, intrigued by him. She realized, something she was not expecting, the man young was speaking to the in a soft, gentle, mother-like way to the young hippocampus while he seemed to be guiding it through the water with reins.

“There you go Fred you got it!” The man smile brightly. “See no hands!” He raised his hands up with joy. The hippocampus whinnied in fear when he realized the young man was no longer guiding him.

“Hey, hey.” he said claiming while he grabbed the reins once more. “Shh, it’s alright, I won’t let go until you’re ready.” The young man soothed the hippocampus and stroked the creature’s jaw. “I know it quite different from the pool in the case, but it’s really not that bad, once you get use to it.”

The beautiful siren was enchanted by the wizard and he was so caring towards the hippocampus, something that was extremely uncommon among magical people, especially muggles.

Rosie too seemed like the wizard as well and swam towards him, placing herself in his view.

When the wizard saw Rosie he laugh out in excitement and joy.

“Fred look! It a..um. dolphin, one the very few muggle beats that are friend and unfrightened by magical once. Supposedly dolphins and your kind naturally create a great friendship. I’ve have always wanted to study one in person.” The man exclaimed like a child on Christmas morning.

The hippocampus, now calm and no longer frightened with the company of Rosie, began to swim and play with her.

The cinnamon haired wizard called to her to come to him, when she did as he wished, he began to gently pet her silky snout and head.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back” He made a hand gesture to stay.

He stood up and ran over to a light brown case a few feet away, opened it, and entered.

He had had been to excited of his new discovery to realize the siren intently watching him, with her chin resting on her arms placed on the dock to his far right.

The two creates entertained themselves with each other while the wizard was away. A few minutes later He reappeared from the case and returned to his original place with a book, journal and quill in his hand.

He opened the book and skimmed through the pages until he seemed to find what he was looking.

“So if you’re a male yo-” He was cut of by the siren saying, “She a female and her name is Rosie.”

The wizard was jumped, spooked by the sirens voice, lost his balance, and fell into the water with a splash.

She placed a hand over her mouth with gasp half laugh.

He emerged from the water’s surface with a gasp. When turned his head towards the siren his mouth partly open and his eyes were glued to the exquisite being. He didn’t seem to register the being was a siren and sirens used their beautiful features and voice to drag men into the sea to their death.

He snapped out of his gaze and tried to quickly reach for his wand resting on the dock. But she was quicker, she pulled out her own wand that was securely placed in her shell-crown and point towards the wizard.

“I won’t hurt you. Back down and I’ll do the same.” She warned.

He seemed so confused and shocked by the whole situation, but did as he was told.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think that I would cast a harmful spell on you. If you were hostile and attacked me it would mean another reasons for the Ministry of Magic to believe sirens are dangerous.” He calmly stated as he held his hands in front of him not in a defensive way but in a showing he meant peace.

“Very well I trust you.” She lowered her wand. “Most wizards would kill me for my precious scales and hair, but you were gentle and kind towards both the hippocampus and Lily that I know you truly mean no harm.” Her (E/C) eyes pierced his, he felt a shiver go down his back. “And I admirer how you handled beats.” She cooed with her silver voice.

His face turned a bright red by her compliment.

“And you going to get out the water or are you going to stare at me with your mouth open like a codfish?” She charmed with a smile.

He nervously laugh then he climbed onto the deck, dipping water from his drenched clothing. He turned back to entertained sea creatures and watched with smile then turned back (H/C) siren.

“Might I ask what’s your name, how did you come by a wand and where did you learn to use it? And the name is Newt Scamander.” He curiously questioned as he sat down in front of her.

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), the daughter of a wizard named (Y/F/N) and a siren named (Y/M/N) and a graduated student of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. I lived on land with my parents from birth till age nineteen.”

Newt was greatly interested my (Y/N) and continued to ask more questions. “Did your mother create a spell or poison to live on land? And do you have to do the same thing?”

“My father was a brilliant poison maker, he created a poison for my mother so they could be together. I have no need for the poison, as soon as I’m no longer in water my tail transforms into legs and my gills disappear.” She gestured behind her ear and rib cage to where her gills were.

“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.” He smiled, a beautiful white smile that created creases around his stunning hazel eyes. (WHAT COLOR ARE HIS EYES!HAZEL, GREEN, BLUE, GOLD?!)

“So what about you Newt? What’s your story?” She purred.

Newt became quite flustered with the flirtatious siren, something he rarely experienced, especially with someone so lovely as her.

“There’s not much to me.” He laught nervously “I’m a Magizoologist, I’m traveling the world to study magical creatures to help me write a novel of how to understand them as protect them, and I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

It was as if (Y/N)’s eyes were searching his to reveal if he meet ill will or he wasn’t who he said he was. This made Newt uncomfortable, not in a way that she would reveal something bad about himself, but in a way like staring at something so beautiful and bright it made his eyes hurt. Plus he wasn’t overly fond of eye contact.

(Y/N) not anything finding displeasing suggested with her silky voice, “Well Newt sense you appear to have a great interest in dolphins would you like to met more than one?”

His smiled a white, bright, and ecstatic smile. “I love to.”

(Y/N) smiled, happy he had accepted her offer. “Go ahead and take off your clothes beside you undergarments, get in the water, and I’ll call the dolphins towards us.”

Newt was a hesitant at first, but did what she said.

(Y/N) heard a splash behind her as she swam a few feet away from the dock, towards Rosie and Fred. She sang out an enchanting melody, it didn’t contain any lyrics just different beautiful pitches and tunes.

She has the most stunning voice Newt had ever heard. He now knew why it so easy for a siren to drown a man to death.

They saw in the distant a something jump up out of the water then back in.

“It’s interesting how they swim like that.” (Y/N) heard Newt say beside her.

“They travel in pods.” She stated

After a few minutes the dolphins arrived, they travel faster when they hear a siren’s call. There were twelve total not counting Rosie.

“These are bottlenose dolphins, I’ve known them since they were born.” (Y/N) loving cooed as one of them affectionately rubbed against her.

“Their magnificent!” Newt said in awe as he petted one’s back and another nudging its snout under his arm to grab his attention.

“Yes, yes I see you.” He laughter at the dolphin.

“His name is Percy, his one of the youngest of the pod and the other one you’re petting is named Georgia.” She said happily

“Well aren’t you beauty Georgia.” He hummed. The female dolphin squeaked as if she were saying thank you.

“They adore you Newt.”

Newt didn’t replied right away but blush heavily. “Well I adore them too.”

The siren, I guess one would say, was falling in love with him, which was not common for a siren to truly fall in love a wizard.

“Newt would you like to see them do a dance underwater? Well it’s more of coordinated swim.”

“They can do that!? Extraordinary! The muggle book nothing about that!” He asked amazed. “Oh and um.. yes I’d love to watch.”

They emerged themselves in the clear blue water. Newt thought (Y/N), if even possible, looked even more lovely underwater, with her hair flowing elegantly, the scales of her (F/C) fin shining brightly in the light, and her body moving gracefully through the water,

Newt snapped out of his daydreaming when in the corner of his eye he saw movement. The dolphins, along with Fred, were doing a graceful dance, like (Y/N) said, over and under around through and through. (just quoted a lullaby)

He wanted to watch more but his lungs disagreed. He was started to swim to the surface but a hand clasped onto his wrist, it was (Y/N). She came face to face with him and place her lips on his, blowing oxygen into his lungs. Even in the blue water she could she his vibrant red blush. She giggled sending out bubbles.

The dolphins were soon over with dance and Newt along with (Y/N) swam to the surface.

Newt stayed there throughout the rest of the day, learning as much as he could about dolphins and slowing falling in love with extraordinary young siren.

“(Y/N)” Newt softly hummed as they both watched the sunset while sitting on the beach with their waist still in the water. “(Y/N), would you be willing to travel with me around the world to study magical creatures.” Snapped her head towards Newt. “I know it’s a lot to ask for you leave your this place and your dolphins, but never meet someone like before, someone so kind towards creatures. You would make would make a wonderful partner, not it just for business.” He said. (Y/N) could tell he’d been thinking of this matter for awhile.

“Newt Scamander are you asking me to be your partner and confessing your feeling to me?” (Y/N) amusingly purred.

Newts expression turned bashful. “Well, yes. Like I said I think your a wonderful being and I think I’m falling in love with you.”

(Y/N) giggled as she gently pushed Newt down onto his back in the wet sand and caged his head between her hands.

“I’d be honored to be your travel partner and I think I’m falling in love with you too.” She whispered the last part as she brushed her nose with his and captured her lips with his in a deep passionate kiss.

They pulled away for some much needed air then they heard whining and squeaking behind them from Rosie and Fred cheering them on.

Both Newt and (Y/N) burst into laughter. “Well we must get going love we have much to explore and to discover.”

And this was just the being a great journey for the Magizoologist and the Siren.

The End

A/N- Hope you liked it and please give me feedback! :D

Tags: @thesniffler @thenewtcase @queencookiegirl @ravenclawwriting @kittykat101ary @newtynewtnewtimagines @newt-scamander-imagine @a-moment-in-time @accio-newt-imagines @aeddiesthetic @newt-and-his-beasts @call-me-newt-scamander @poe-also-bucky @huffleheck @fantasticnewtx @mangosoldier @fantastic-newt @thestral-s @imaginesfrommetoyou @imaginewithme @newtts-scamander @katherineoswald @ohnewtynewt @marvelous-ravenclaw @t-adash-i @thenewtsalamander @she-who-nailed-it @scamander-the-salamander

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander #newton artemis fido scamander #newt scamander imagine #fbawtft #harry potter #jk rowling #fanfic

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