#also none of these fuckers would handle much alcohol..........
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Buddy should have been at the club!! (They'll probably hate it so much and just awkwardly stand in the middle holding a glass of water lmao)
A few months int staying with znahor buddy gets the brilliant idea to go to a club to try and unwind a little but this fucker is NOT used to loud music or being in crowds or alcohol and yeah they end up having such a bad time that they dont set a foot in another club for YEARS.
Alternatively they couldve also dragged tashi soup and stickbug with them and then instead of one guy having a terrible time, FOUR guys would be having the worst night of their lives.....
Buddy should NOT be at the club, they should be at a small local art club making shitty mediocre art and having the time of their life<33
thank you for asking bestie:]
#ask#my funky guys#also none of these fuckers would handle much alcohol..........#bud prolly drank a few times but in small quantities and it was years ago#tashi has never drank alcohol before. period#soup and stick MAYBE drank a little bit before?? but they propably dont have good memories of that#if you set them loose in a club they would either not drink any alcohol at all or get tipsy and stop#.... except stickbug. hes like 21 and wants to prove to everyone how mature and grown up he is.. you can imagine that doesnt end well#cw alcohol#<-just in case someone doesnt want to see this#a club is the last these guys should be at tbh... theyd all get overstimulated and overwhelmed in like 5 seconds#it is very entertaining to imagine budy standing awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor gripping a glass of water#looking miserable
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Word of Honor - Episode 3 Part 1 - Someone finally eats their damn food
FUCKING FINALLY OMG
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Why is the rum always gone?
It’s because you’re an alcoholic, Dear.
Lucky for you I’m an enabler
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Why y’all gotta drag me into your gross flirting? Disgusting
Ah don’t worry! I’ll help! I’ll help with anything! Let me be helpful! Please I beg of you!
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I like you. You like me?
No.
How bout now?
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Don’t you fuckin’ touch me.
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I don’t know why but like in just about any context someone smelling their fingers is just a tiny bit gross.
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A beautiful person is beautiful regardless of what life and the world has done to them. An woman made homely by long suffering is no less beautiful than a princess whose hands were made to touch nothing harder than water.
Learn some respect.
That being said it ain’t life that made you ugly. Take off the damn mask! Let me sneak a peek! ;)
You couldn’t fucking handle it.
Oh yeah? Fucking prove it.
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So what’d y’all do to piss off the Ghost Valley? Asking for a friend and I definitely don’t know the answer. I don’t even know who they are. Ghost Valley? That sounds made up.
But what did you do to piss them off?
I don’t know and honestly I don’t give a FUCK. About anything. Except wine. And sleep.
Let me get drunk and go to bed. Please.
Rest. I crave rest.
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There’s a weird children’s rhyme floating around
*ahem*
RING AROUND THE ROSIE
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A bunch of sects got their sacred texts stolen and shoved into a cave somewhere 20 years ago and supposedly the knowledge gathered can make you invincible.
Also apparently none of these sects had thought to like... i don’t know... write down a second copy? Or like have a master that actually knows the stuff so they can teach it and pass it down? I guess?
I mean I don’t feel like this needed to be so big of a problem.
That being said Zhou ZiShu’s “the fuq” head tilt when Wen KeXing says that it makes people invincible just does it for me. lol Mr Sass Man
Like “Press X to Doubt”
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Everyone’s always trying to kill each other over some mystical mcguffin or another.
Get this thing and you’ll live forever. Get that thing and it’ll cure any ailment. Get the other thing and you can destroy all your foes. Blah Blah Blah
Y’all can miss me with that shit.
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Wen KeXing, your mirthless laugh is kinda giving up the ghost on your disguise as it were.
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Ignorant people create their own troubles.
And drag innocent others into the squall.
And I ain’t down for that shit.
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Wait I get it! People who suck try to cheat!
And they’re dumb!
I’m so smrt.
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Stop asking my boy questions you know he doesn’t want to answer.
I love how much Zhou ZiShu tries to protect ChengLing’s boundaries. Like no. He doesn’t want you to treat his wound. He doesn’t want to answer that question. Then by god he’s not going to. He’s old enough to know if he needs help and to make his own decisions so I’m gonna let him. And if you try again I will cut you.
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Unfortunate.
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You can always tell when someone’s a shit manager when they order you to do something you’re already doing as if you hadn’t thought to do it and then pretend that it was their idea all along.
“Cover the bodies” do you see all these fucking sheets? Do yous ee my hands already covering his ass? Do you see? You cover the fucking bodies you damn layabout!
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And then there’s this guy!
What happened?
Fuckin ghost assassins came in and killed everyone! What the fuck do you think happened?
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It’s sad that y’all lost your sworn brother or something. Like it is. And y’all are making me believe that you’re in pain! And his two kids that really sucks too!
But like...
I don’t know who ANY of y’all are. Like Sucks and all but like... who are you? I’m not emotionally invested in you at ALL. Which makes it real hard to hit that sympathy card in any substantial way right out the gate.
But Idk. Maybe I’m not supposed to care all that deep? Like maybe you’re just supposed to be all like
That being said, this guy’s selling it though. He’s really goin for it.
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Hahahahahahahha your friends died and you couldn’t save them. Ha ha.
We’re watermelons. :D
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ARE YOU TRYING TO PROVOKE ME ON PURPOSE?
Well fucking duh!
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Hold your blade! For I too am old and here to start shit!
That being said if y’all could stop antagonizing literally everyone you meet for 5 minutes that would be fantastic.
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What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East
And A-Xu is the sun!
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Are you still staring? BLINK MOTHER FUCKER!!
I know you hot as fuck you can’t hide from me
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*Poke*
What the fuck dude???
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AACCKKK MY HEARTTTTTTTTT
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Whelp I’m out. Still gonna stalk me?
Oh absolutely
Eh. Guess it could be worse.
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Heyyyyyyyyyy stop walking away when I’m trying to flirt with you!!! ride my damn boat! i have a boat! Please just get on my damn boatttttttttt
Denied
Alright fine. Play hard to get. I know you like me ;)
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Um if you could wrap up the stupid love-struck staring and let us get a move on that would be greaaaaaaaat.
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That ass will be mine.
#word of honor#Shanhe Ling#Wen Kexing#zhou zishu#zhang chengling#Gu Xiang#writing woh#spoilers#episode 3
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Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!
Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU
“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.
“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”
“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”
“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”
“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.
“I meant with Apollo.”
Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”
As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.
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Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.
A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.
“What the fuck man?”
‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.
“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”
Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”
“I-”
“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”
With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.
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Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.
At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.
Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.
His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.
“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.
“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”
“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?
“No, I’m Duck?”
He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”
“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”
“It is!”
“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.
As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."
“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”
‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”
“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”
“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”
“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”
Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.
“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.
“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”
“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.
“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”
“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”
Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.
Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”
Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.
“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.
“No.”
“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”
Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.
Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.
He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.
“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.
“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.
“Do you, uh, need a hug?’
“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.
“Do you want one?”
“......Badly.”
Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”
“That is both very exciting and alarming.”
“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”
“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”
Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”
They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.
-----------------------------------------
“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.
“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”
“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”
Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.
“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.
“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”
(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).
Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”
“I promise.” He lies.
The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.
Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”
“More so than the forest?”
Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.
Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.
“I’d like that.”
---------------------------------------------
“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”
Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”
“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”
“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.
So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.
“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”
Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”
Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”
He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.
But maybe this date is going differently.
Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”
Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.
“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”
“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.
“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”
“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”
“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”
“Oh. I, are you sure-”
“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”
Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.
“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”
“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”
--------------------------------------------
“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”
“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”
“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”
Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”
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“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.
“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”
“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”
“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”
“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”
The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.
Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.
“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”
“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”
“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”
“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”
Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”
----------------------------------------
“Any twos?”
“No. Go fish.”
Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”
“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”
“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”
Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”
“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.
“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”
“I, I can care for him. I will!”
“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.
“At least I’m not a-”
“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”
“Wha--how-”
“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”
His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.
There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…
“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”
--------------------------------------------------
Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.
“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.
“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”
Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”
“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”
As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.
“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.
“May I?”
“You better.”
Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.
Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”
“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.
“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”
“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”
Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.
“Okay, I lied.”
Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.
“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”
Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.
“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”
“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.
“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”
Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.
“Start with one.”
Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.
“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”
Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.
“You like that?”
“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.
“You’ll pull off you need to?”
“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.
“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-
“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.
“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”
“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.
“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”
An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”
Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.
“May I fuck you?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Condom?”
“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”
“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”
“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.
“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”
“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.
“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”
Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”
There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.
“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”
“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”
“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.
“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”
Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”
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How to care for a sick Jonny d’Ville
Jonny isn’t feeling well after a night of drinking, when Tim finds out he isn’t just hungover but actually sick, he takes care of him and ropes Ashes and Marius into it as well.
On AO3.
Ships: none
Warnings: Vomiting and mentions of Jonnys self esteem or lack thereof. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag anything!
~~~~~~~~~
Jonny felt woozy. It suddenly hit him when he stood up from the table they had all sat at during the night as slowly more alcohol made its way into their systems while they played cards.
He blinked heavily a few times and tried to steady himself on his feet as the ground continued to sway beneath his feet.
Ashes noticed him struggling and laughed: “Still can’t handle your liquor, can you, Jonny?”
“I can, shut up.” he frowned at them, then started to doubt himself. He wasn’t that drunk, was he? No. He couldn’t be, he had drank much more than this in the past and he had been fine, he knew how to hold his goddamn liquor.
But why was he so dizzy then?
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it almost made him fall over and he grumbled something about needing to lie down as the rest of the table laughed at him while he stumbled away.
When he finally collapsed on his bed, after a walk that took way too long for the length it was, he groaned in relief. He felt terrible. He hoped the hangover would be less shit than this, it had been so long since drinking had gone over wrong that he barely recognized it.
The next day he woke up feeling even more shitty then when he’d gone to bed. He had a terrible headache and when he’d tried to sit up he had nearly vomited all over himself, almost not making it to the toilet before his stomach emptied itself.
Now he was still sitting next to it. He hadn’t found the energy in himself to get up from the floor and the coolness of the toilet bowl was welcome against his forehead.
He had practically decided to just stay there for the entire day and wallow in misery when the door of his room slammed open with a bang making him wince in pain as his headache flared up again.
Tims entirely too cheery voice called out: “You still alive, d’Ville?”
“Go away.” Jonny groaned back, “Too early.”
Poking his head around the entrance of the bathroom Tim grinned as he took in Jonnys state and said: “It’s been over a day, Jonny. How much did you even drink?”
“Not that much.” Jonny said with a frown, before Tim turned on the lights and the sudden brightness made him vomit again.
“You sure, because you look like shit.” Tim laughed, the bastard.
Jonny shot him a glare and told him: “I didn’t even finish my bottle, fucker. I did not drink too much, it just fell wrong or something.”
Then the effort that had taken was too much and he sagged against the toilet once more as he hoped that Tim would kindly fuck off and turn off the lights as he went.
Alas no such fate was in the cards for him, because instead Tim told him to stop being a baby, before he bodily picked him off the floor and slung him over his shoulders in a fireman carry. He also picked up the bin and handed it to Jonny with a: “Don’t ruin my clothes or I will skin you.”
Jonny did not have any fight left in him and felt too weak to do anything other than give Tim a shaky thumbs up, before clutching the bin tightly near his face.
It had been good foresight of Tim to hand him said bin, because by the time they got to the main area Jonny was dry heaving in it, spit dripping from his lips since there wasn’t anything else in his stomach to be vomited up as reflective tears ruined his already smudged make up.
Tim by this point had gotten quite concerned.
He had thought Jonny was being dramatic, but right now he wasn’t so sure. It was unusual for him to react to a small amount of alcohol like this and Tim did vaguely remember Jonny drinking not that much.
Putting the First Mate gently down on the couch Tim knelt down in front of him and looked into his eyes. They were hazy and blank and didn’t seem to notice Tims expression grow even more concerned.
“Hey, Jonny, hey, look at me.” he waited until there was small sound of recognition, “You really are feeling shit, eh, no dramatics?”
Slowly Jonny shook his head, then he grinned slightly and said: “I’m never dramatic.”
A bit of relief washed over Tim, but he didn’t let is show as he rolled his eyes: “Not feeling bad enough to stop being a lying little shit, I see.”
Then he was suddenly confronted with the fact that he had no clue what to do now. His plan had been to throw some water in Jonnys face before giving him something for a hangover, but that plan was kind of fucked over by the fact that Jonny wasn’t hungover.
He awkwardly asked Jonny: “Uhm, is there anything I can, you know, do for you? Maybe get you back to bed or something?”
Jonny curled into himself, clutching the bin tightly to his chest and murmured: “Don’t wanna move. Cold?”
“Should I get you a blanket?” Tim asked, completely unsure of how to proceed.
Sliding onto his side Jonny nodded and shut his eyes again.
That was Tims cue to bolt, which he did. He knew he had an extra blanket in his room, he’d kept there just in case, back when he was still suspicious of Auroras ability to keep the ship running to everyone's preferences.
It seemed so dumb looking back on it, although he was glad he had the blanket now, he thought as he pulled the fluff bunch from a chest.
He hoped he would get back before Jonny was found by another crew member who didn’t know what was going on with him, since he already felt guilty enough for practically kidnapping him from his room, even if he had found him miserable on the ground next to the toilet with no intention of moving.
Returning to the couch he’d left Jonny on he was glad to see Jonny peacefully asleep on his own, the bin next to him on the ground.
Tim gently tucked Jonny in and grabbed some guns to clean, before carefully sliding Jonnys head in his lap and silently setting to his task while he kept an eye on Jonny.
After about two hours of silence it was broken by two sets of footsteps and the sound of Marius and Ashes arguing about something.
At the sound Jonny stirred slightly under Tims hands, which he had on his head since he was playing with his hair, something he had started doing after he was done with cleaning his guns.
Tim tried to soothe him and keep him asleep, so right as Marius and Ashes entered he gave them a glare and shushed them.
They seemed taken aback by it, but stayed silent as they shot Tim a questioning look. He pointed to Jonny and softly said: “He’s sick.”
Ashes raised a brow and told him: “He’s probably being melodramatic, you saw him stumble after drinking. I told him he couldn't handle his liquor.”
“I thought so too, but he barely drank anything for his standards.” Tim replied.
“He is right, Ashes. Jonny was pretty moderate.” Marius commented.
“I still don’t believe it.” Ashes crossed their arms, before kneeling next to Jonny and saying: “Hey, Jonny, come on.”
Tim was too late in his attempt to stop them and soon Jonny blinked open his eyes slowly and croaked: “Ashes? What? You?”
They hummed: “Oh, he really seems out of it.” then they a bit louder they said: “Jonny, are you good? What’s happening?”
“He’s sick, Ashes.” Tim shot them a glare.
“Yeah and if we know what he has maybe we can fix him.” Ashes glared back, they pointed at Marius, “We got our Doctor here, he should be able to help.”
“We both know Marius isn’t a real Doctor.”
“Hey!”
“Shut up, Marius.”
“No need to be rude, Ashes.”
“Just look at Jonny, von Raum.”
Marius softly repeated Ashes words in a mocking manner, but also squatted down next to them to take a look at Jonny. He smiled at the First Mate and gently said: “Hey there, buddy. Tim said you feel a bit unwell, can you tell me what you feel?”
Jonny squinted at the light and the noise, before burrowing his face into Tims lap and mumbling: “Pain, bad.”
Ashes and Marius shared a look, then turned to Tim, who gave them an ‘I-told-you-so’ face, after which he turned back to Jonny and continued to pet his head again.
Marius nodded, more to himself, then attempted conversation with Jonny once more: “I get that you’re feeling awful, Jonny. I can see you’re sick, but I need specifics so we can maybe lessen the pain and the bad feeling.”
Turning his head back to Marius as he peaked at the Doctor over Tims knee, Marius had to stop himself from fawning over the cute picture Jonny made. Then he said hoarsely: “Stomach feels weird and head hurts, lights bright.”
“Good, good, well done, thank you, Jonny.” Marius smiled at him.
Jonny nodded, closing his eyes and turning back into Tims lap seemingly satisfied with his contribution.
“He also vomited a lot.” Tim told him.
“So what’s the verdict, Doctor?” Ashes asked him.
Under two pairs of scrutinizing eyes, Marius carefully said: “I think it’s a stomach bug native to the planet we were just on. It’s probably not going to spread from him, which is good news!”
“Oh no, what is the bad news.” Tim asked, a warning tone in his voice.
“Nothing bad, nothing bad.” Marius quickly assured him, “Just that we cannot do anything other than keep him hydrated and warm until this blows over.”
After a beat Tim said: “Then we should probably get him some water, since I don’t he’s been drinking anything since he was with us.”
“No wonder he has a headache then.” Ashes exclaimed.
“It’s not my fault, I just picked him up from the floor and put him somewhere soft.” Tim replied indignantly.
Marius got up with an eyeroll and as he walked away to get some water for Jonny, he called over his shoulder: “Arguing isn’t going to make him feel better.”
He did not see Ashes and Tim flipping him off in sync, having found a common enemy in Marius and the fact that he was right, which was annoying.
While he was gone, Ashes looked at Jonny and also petted his side for a moment, then they asked Tim: “Are you okay? How long have you been sitting here with him?”
“A few hours now. Two, maybe three.” Tim shrugged, “He’s been asleep the whole time, just woke up to vomit a few times. It’s been alright, cleaned my guns. Although my leg has fallen asleep.”
“Wanna switch?” Ashes asked.
“What?”
“Switch.” they repeated, “I take him for a moment, you can stretch your legs.”
Tim gave them a look and teased: “I thought you said he was just being dramatic. Does your little black heart still has a bit of caring left in it.”
Ashes glared at him and threatened: “You’re stuck there, Tim. I wouldn't try anything when you can’t run from me.”
“Alright, alright.” Tim raised his hands disarmingly, “But I honestly wouldn't mind the switch.”
Right at that point Marius returned with the water and announced: “I think someone is going to have to hold him up while he drinks and I also think he isn’t going to be pleased by that fact, so lets be nice.”
Tim nodded and softly woke Jonny up again. The First Mate in his lap whined slightly when he got woken up and pouted as he blinked his eyes open slowly.
“I know, Jonny, we’re all meanies for waking you up.” Marius smiled at him, “But I have some water for you, it’ll help with the headache and probably the jucky taste and the dry throat. You can go to bed again right after, I promise.”
Jonny smacked a bit when Marius mentioned the taste and dry throat and grimaced, making the three other chuckle. He squinted at them suspiciously and hoarsely pouted: “Are you laughing at me?”
Tim ran a hand through his hair and smirked: “Of course not, Jonny.”
It seemed like Jonny didn’t really believe him, but he did allow Tim to lever him up into a sitting position, leaning heavily against Tims side.
He wanted to take the glass from Marius hands, but he shook his head and kindly told him: “I would let you. I know you don’t like it, but I think you would like it even less when you drop all the water on yourself.”
“Who says I’m gonna do that.” Jonny croaked.
Marius raised an eyebrow at him and shared a disbelieving look with Ashes and Tim. Tim quickly glanced at Jonny then rolled his eyes, while Ashes just shrugged in a way that asked ‘are-you-really-surprised?’
“I’m not saying you’re going to do that.” Marius sighed, “Just for me, okay.”
Jonny hesitated for a moment, but in the end he was tired and feeling bad and he honestly didn’t really feel like arguing, especially not while they all were being so nice to him and taking care of him.
So he didn’t protest when Marius raised the glass to his lips and helped him drink as he softly said: “Take small sips. That’s it.”
After the glass was empty Tim and Ashes swapped places. When Tim first started to get up Jonny made a small, confused noise, which he would later fiercely deny ever happened, as he gave Tim a hurt look.
Tim had to bite his lip to stop himself from either squealing or laughing at Jonny, before he explained: “My legs are a bit dead, so Ashes is going to stay with you for a while so that I can stretch, okay?”
A look of relief swept over Jonnys face that he quickly hid as he huffed: “Whatever, not like I care.”
All three suppressed an eyeroll at the obvious lie, but no one commented.
Ashes lowered Jonnys head until he was comfortably resting in their lap. He yawned then yawned again although he tried to power through it: “What are- what’re y’all gonna do?”
“Just mill around here, don’t worry about it, Jonny.” Marius quickly said, shooting a look at Ashes and Tim that Jonny couldn't see since his eyes were already closed.
“Goo’, goo’, ‘cause, you know, I was just gonna” a small yawn, “stay here too and-” and Jonny was asleep again.
Both Ashes and Tim couldn't stop the small snort at that and even Marius had to admit that that was pretty cute and funny.
“I am so teasing him with this when he’s feeling better.” Ashes grinned.
“God, yes.” Tim agreed.
Marius hesitated for a moment, then defectively said: “First lets make sure he does feel better, alright. I am filling up another glass of water for when he wakes up and I’m making him broth, he needs a bit of food in his system.”
Then he hurried off to the kitchen.
Tim stretched and told Ashes: “Are you going to be okay on your own for a while? Because I need to walk around a bit right now and I feel like Jonny needs better clothes than his stinky drinking clothes. It’s alright now, but when you’ve been sitting with him for a while, you’ll notice.”
Ashes made a disgusted face at that, before they shooed him out, telling him that if it really got that bad he’d better do something about it before it became their problem.
Giving them a lazy salute and a semi-scared grin Tim wiggled his legs a bit, before walking off to do what he had just said.
Meanwhile Ashes had taken up petting Jonnys hair with one hand while they flicked a lighter off and on with the other.
It seemed Jonny was out of it for now, apparently it had taken a lot out of him to sit up and drink, something that would have worried them more were it not for the fact that he was literally immortal and it would only be mildly uncomfortable if he died from this.
They saw Marius for a short second as he gave them the glass for when Jonny woke up again and checked up on them. Once he was satisfied with the answer he left them alone again with their thoughts.
Jonny hadn’t been sick in a long while and it was strange to see him so cuddly and, not weak, but softer. He always took great care in maintaining a tough exterior that they sometimes almost forgot the boy he’d once been when they’d first met.
As they pondered this for a while, Jonny groaned and suddenly turned away from them as he hunched over the couch to vomit in the bin that was there.
He startled Ashes a bit, but they hurried to make sure he didn’t fall off the couch and, when it seemed his stomach had expelled all the water in it, they pulled him back onto the couch properly where he immediately whimpered slightly as he curled up against their chest.
Ashes could feel that he was quivering slightly and in a brief moment of tenderness they allowed themself to hold him close to their side and stroke his back as they whispered: “That seemed uncomfortable. Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Throat hurts.” Jonny whined.
Silently they thanked Marius foresight as they got the glass and held it up to Jonnys lips as they gently said: “Here, drink this, it might help.”
Jonny frowned at the glass and tightened his lips as he refused to drink the water. Ashes frowned in turn at Jonny and asked: “Why don’t you want to drink the water?”
“I don’t wanna throw up again.” he whispered.
“Why don’t you take a small sip to rinse your mouth and you spit that out and then after that you take three sips, just three, you don’t have to drink the whole glass.” Ashes reasoned.
Jonny nodded and Ashes helped him do just that, before letting him sag against them again so that he could fall back into a fitful sleep.
It was at this point that Tim came back carrying a stack of clothes, makeup wipes, sandwiches and some things they could do while sitting down, like playing cards and some books.
He plonked it all down on the table and softly announced: “Jonny, we’re getting you in better clothes, buddy.”
The pile on the couch named Jonny just squinted at him and didn’t cooperate.
Ashes rolled their eyes and stated: “This is weird and I hate you for this.” as they started unbuckling his belts.
When those were off Jonny seemed willing to exchange his waistcoat and shirt for a soft sweater and his trousers for comfy joggers, although he did grumble and whine during the whole process and wiggled grouchily under his blanket when they were done.
Then, as Jonny continued to rest, Tim and Ashes started playing a game of cards, no high stakes or anything, just for fun, and ate some lunch.
They were just finishing their third round when Brian poked his head around the door frame and said: “Hello, are you all alright? Marius said Jonny wasn’t feeling well and you were keeping an eye on him. Is he okay?”
Tim glanced over to Jonnys sleeping form, then said: “He seems alright now, but he was vomiting earlier and he has done nothing but sleep, apparently it wasn’t just a hangover keeping him in his room.”
“That’s terrible.” Brian sounded concerned as he walked over to them on the couch to see Jonny for himself.
Jonny was fast asleep, his mouth a bit agape as he breathed softly. He was curled up under a big blanket and his makeup was smeared over his face staining Ashes trousers as he smushed his face into their leg.
Brian bit his lip lightly to keep himself from chuckling and instead commented: “Well, he seems to be in good hands. Shouldn’t we get rid of the makeup though?”
“I got the stuff.” Tim nodded to small pile at the edge of the table, “But he was already fussy about us forcing him in comfortable clothes that it didn’t seem worth it, it’s not like he’s noticed yet.”
Shrugging Brian made a ‘that’s-fair’ face, before he asked: “Is there anything you need? I can get it for you.” both shook their head, “Well, if you think of something give Aurora the message and she’ll tell me, okay?”
“Okay, thanks Brain.” Tim smiled, while Ashes gave him a lazy thumbs up.
He gave them an awkward wave before leaving. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his crew mates and checking up on Jonny after he’d heard the First Mate was sick was only logical, but he didn’t really like people touching him and with how he’d found Jonny, he didn’t mind not being the person to keep an eye on him.
By the time Marius showed up with the broth Tim and Ashes had switched places again and had turned to playing Uno.
Marius raised an eyebrow and the two fierce fighters arguing softly about Uno rules, while Tim tried not to jostle the sleeping Jonny. He cleared his throat and held up the broth: “Willing to help me get this into Jonny?”
Ashes gave the steaming broth a suspicious look: “Is that a smart idea, Marius? I mean just the water alone made him vomit again.”
“Yeah, I know, but he needs some food in him if he wants to recover, your body can’t heal itself without fuel.” Marius explained.
They gave him a slow one over, before they nodded.
While that was going on Tim had awoken Jonny, who blinked heavily as he tried to get away from Tims waking hand with little success. He mumbled: “Wha’s goin’ on?”
“Marius has some broth for you. You need to eat, Jonny.” Tim told him.
Jonny frowned and tried to hide under the blanket as he shook his head. Tim sighed: “Don’t be difficult, Jonny.”
That made Jonny peak out from under the blanket as he complained: “I’m not being difficult.”
“If you’re not being difficult then you will let us give you some broth to help you get better.” Tim said a bit harshly.
Jonny flinched away from the tone and stopped complaining. Tim felt a bit bad about it, but he was glad Jonny was allowing him to get him into a semi-sitting position.
Marius sat down next to Jonnys hips on the couch so that he could feed Jonny the broth. However, Jonny had slept through most of the day and felt a bit better now and he was not about to let Marius feed him, that would be embarrassing.
“I can eat fucking soup on my own, von Raum.” he said, crossing his arms.
“Jonny, I love you, but you absolutely can not do that right now, so I am going to feed you and you’re going to be fed, alright.” Marius told him, not willing to argue about this.
Let it be known that Jonny does not give in easily, he would fight and argue in any other circumstance, but his brain just cut out when Marius told him he loved him and he just gave in, a happy feeling bubbling up in his chest after Marius smiled: “Good job, buddy.”
Later he could be mad at himself for being so pliant and so happy about being cared for and praised, but right now he was sick and he could allow himself a few comforts.
Marius was pleased to see Jonny cooperate, obediently opening and closing his mouth around each spoon. It was only after about half the bowl was empty that Jonnys eyes flickered between Marius’s face and the spoon, before he refused, keeping his mouth shut.
“Are you full?” Marius asked kindly.
Unsure Jonny nodded, as if he wasn’t certain Marius would let him stop or get mad at him for wanting to stop. It made Marius sad to think about, so he shoved the thought away and smiled as he said: “Well, I’m proud you made it this far, well done. I’m glad to know you have at least some food in your system.”
Jonny visually brightened at Marius words and allowed a pleased smile to take over his features as he sagged back onto Tim.
It was nearing evening and all three knew that soon most of the others would come barging in expecting dinner, which had been Jonnys turn to provide and the reason Tim had bothered trying to wake him up in the first place.
“We should probably get him out of here so that all the commotion and shit won’t make him feel worse.” Ashes broached the subject.
“Yeah, a proper bed will help as well.” Tim agreed.
Marius rolled his eyes and said: “I’ll cook, just take care of him, alright?”
“Thank you, Marius.” the two grinned.
Tim easily swept Jonny up in his arms bridal carry, but Jonnys stomach didn’t agree with the sudden movement, so Ashes had to quickly grab the bin and hold it up to Jonnys mouth as he emptied his stomach of most of its contents once more.
Jonny made a pitiful sound as Tim softly apologized over and over again as he started walking, gently swaying Jonny a bit until he had calmed down.
“What’re you doin’?” he asked, squinting.
“We’re taking you to a proper bed, sweetheart, you need it to get better.” Ashes answered him from where they were walking next to Tim.
A look of fear flashed over Jonnys features and he timidly asked: “Are you going to leave me there?”
The vulnerability in his eyes stabbed Tim in his chest and he took a different turn than he had planned as he smiled: “Course not, Jonny. Your bed smell of sickness, so I’m taking you to mine and I’m going to make sure you don’t vomit in it.”
“I’m not gonna do that.” Jonny huffed, but the relief was clear on his face and it was kind of hard to look grumpy while he was literally being cradled in Tims arms.
“I know.” Tim said teasingly as he rolled his eyes.
Ashes didn’t comment on Tims softness to their First Mate, since he hadn’t said anything about the pet name and the caring of them either. It was a silent pact that they weren’t going to mention this ever again, teasing long since forgotten, and gauging Jonnys actions it was likely he wasn’t going to either.
They opened the door to Tims room and allowed him to pass them.
He gently put Jonny down, before tucking him in, he then took the bin to the bathroom where he emptied and rinsed it.
When he returned Jonny was barely clinging to consciousness, but he was fighting against the sleep as he clutched to Ashes hand.
Tim sat down next to him on the bed and told Ashes: “You can stay if you want, but you can also come relieve me in a while and save some food for me. We’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” they asked.
Getting conformation from both, they nodded: “Then I’ll check up on you after dinner and if he’s too annoying I won’t mind watching over him for tonight.”
Tim chuckled and Jonny pouted as Ashes left. They would return later to find the two fast asleep in each others arms with Jonnys head resting on Tims chest. They would laugh silently at them, before leaving again, promising themself to check up on them the next day.
In the morning Tim would pass Jonny over to Ashes, promising to come back with a smile and a ruffle of Jonnys hair.
It took a whole week for Jonny to recover and the news of him being sick traveled quickly through the crew, everyone had watched over him for at least a few hours, though Ashes, Marius and Tim were pretty protective over their time with Jonny and took the lion share.
As the week passed and Jonny got better, it became increasingly difficult to take care of him. He kept insisting that he wasn’t weak, which most found stupid, because he was literally sick and being sick or needing some care wasn’t weak.
However, it was pretty easy to convince him to accept their affection, even if they did have to fight for each piece of comfort given to him.
When he finally did feel better, he celebrated by making a big meal for everyone, happy that it wouldn't make him vomit anymore. Though most knew it was also his way of saying thank you, both for taking care of him and not mentioning it.
The crew accepted the meal gladly and kept their mouths shut about the whole thing, but Jonny did hug everyone a bit more, which was a good improvement.
Everyone needed some caring every now and again.
#RR writing#the mechs#The Mechanisms#Jonny d'Ville#gunpowder tim#Ashes O'Reilly#marius von raum#sick!Jonny d'Ville#tw: vomiting#vomiting#shout out to the nice tumblr ask from amberstormblade that inspired this#it was really nice
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So Ruthless, Darling : Poe Dameron x Reader
Pairing: FO!Poe x Reader
Word Count: 2k
Excerpt: “His devilish smirk still stood and she still looked completely uninterested, as if the knife in her hand was a pen and the blood coating her fingers was merely ink.”
Warnings: Blood, violence, cursing, gets a little heated. Drugs, I guess what could be considered a brief mention of torture? This is...dark.
You fuckers better thank @tintinwrites for making me write this.
Complete darkness. Absolute silence. He was disoriented, the lack of sight and the inability to hear leaving him dizzy in a way he never imagined possible. Two of his senses, completely stripped from him, taken by some unknown drug unwillingly pushed through his veins, the small pinprick of the needle setting his skin on fire as the combination of chemicals swirled into his bloodstream.
It still burned. He could still feel, though moving was a different story, and every sensation felt electric, but not in the way he usually enjoyed, like when her hands wandered across the expanse of his back or when her fingers tangled themselves into his short curls. It was overwhelming — the feeling of the hot sand beneath his bare feet and hands gripping his arms so tight as he was marched towards some unknown location. It hurt, and Poe could usually handle an impressive amount of pain without even flinching.
He could still taste the blood in his mouth, leaking from his split lip, or maybe it was from his bloodied nose, because he could smell the familiar, tangy iron so strongly he was sure that it was the only thing keeping him from passing out at how fucking dizzy he was.
Time was a foreign concept to Poe in that moment. How long ago had he been walking through dark streets, alone and head just a little too fuzzy for the dismal amount of alcohol he had consumed at a bar earlier that night? They had slipped something into his drink too, he was sure, because even drunk he never would have allowed himself to be captured by a lousy group of Resistance members.
Would she be awake yet? Had she noticed that he wasn’t in bed beside her, that he hadn’t made it back to their small ship from the bar?
The idiots who took him definitely didn’t account for her, and the thought brought a proud smirk to his face — one that didn’t falter as the burning sand beneath his feet turned to cool stone, and remained on his lips even as he was forcefully pushed to his knees, the coarse feeling of rope scratching against his wrists as his hands were tied behind his back.
Could the Resistance not even afford a decent pair of stuncuffs?
His head snapped back suddenly, from the force of a fist meeting his jaw. Poe grit his teeth, fresh blood filling his mouth, hot and heavy like red wine. He shook his head, the look in his eye somewhere between lethal and defiant, though they were still unseeing. He hoped that whoever had hit him was standing close enough, because he spit and wanted nothing more than for it to splatter in their face, and it was safe to assume that he was successful even temporarily blind because his actions were met with a blow to the temple from the butt of a blaster.
And he laughed. He couldn’t hear it, but he could feel it in his chest, and he could tell by the way it rolled off his tongue that the sound was dripping with an underlying venom so caustic, he was sure the eyes of his captors held the terror they had hoped he would be the one to feel.
He only felt excitement. He wasn’t worried, had no reason to be. His girl was more than capable of finding him, more than capable of getting him out of this. They wanted something from him, if they didn’t they would’ve shot him back in the streets. The drug hadn’t even begun to wear off yet. She had time. He wasn’t worried.
And the pain — it was almost delicious. The wet, sticky red on his face, the bruise he could already feel forming between his ribs where a boot had just knocked him on his ass before a set of hands yanked him back up to kneel, the friction of the rope against his wrists burning so enticingly.
He liked it.
The more pain placed on him, the more they would endure at her hand.
The thought was erotic to Poe.
But when had the Resistance gotten so dirty?
It seemed a little too dramatic for Organa, but he could remember seeing the familiar symbol stitched onto the sleeve of a leather jacket worn by one of the men — it had been the last thing he had seen before his vision faded to black. He supposed the jacket could’ve been stolen.
But it didn’t really matter. If they were with the Resistance, the carnage left behind would be one hell of a message for their precious General. If not, then it would still be a story, a warning.
The Dameron’s had a reputation for being ruthless, and that would only be further solidified in the wreckage they left behind — in the remnants of the hurricane that his wife would bring.
They had really fucked up.
He took every blow, every kick, every drag of a blade across his skin with complete silence, with the controlled discipline he had learned in his years of serving the First Order. Poe wouldn’t give them even an ounce of satisfaction. They could brand him, and he would only grit his teeth at most while violent pictures of her filled his mind.
Time still didn’t exist to him. All he knew is that his ears were beginning to ring and he could see blurry shapes dancing around his vision. He almost liked the nothingness more than the inbetween.
He guessed another thirty minutes passed, and his vision returned before his hearing, and he didn’t even try to hide it — his eyes following the movements of the one wearing that leather jacket. There were two others, another man with a spotty mustache and a woman, none of them paying any attention to Poe at that second.
They were talking, and Poe didn’t read lips well enough to be able to make out any words other than his name here and there. He rolled his eyes, already growing annoyed with the muffled ringing in his ears.
It was bullshit.
And the blaster fire that sounded throughout the room minutes later only made it worse.
But it also brought that signature proud smirk back onto his lips, his eyes full of delight as he watched each of his captors fall to their knees as they were shot out from under them, their own blasters sitting on a small stone table a few feet away from Poe, completely out of their reach.
Maker, they were fucking stupid.
Organa really needed to get her shit together.
She walked into the small hut, her pace slow, expression almost bored though her eyes showed how truly pissed she was. They were cold, harsh, yet blazing with an unforgiving and relentless fire that he adored to no end.
She didn’t even glance his way, but he caught how her shoulders stiffened, and the way that her hand twitched. She had seen him, and the initial rage she had felt only intensified ten times over.
And Poe watched, that satisfied smirk still on his face, as she let that rage fuel her actions.
Time suddenly made sense again, and he reveled in the twelve minutes and forty-seven seconds his wife spent working her magic. His devilish smirk still stood and she still looked completely uninterested, as if the knife in her hand was a pen and the blood coating her fingers was merely ink. The only other indication that Poe was enjoying this was the callous laugh that flew from his lips as the last body, the man in the leather jacket, fell to the ground with a solid thump, chest still moving with shallow breaths that would only last another minute or two, his eyes holding Poe’s as his wife made quick work of tearing her blade through the thick rope binding him.
He stood swiftly, as if he hadn’t just been kneeling for Maker knows how long, rubbing at the red marks around his wrists before turning, one of his arms encircling her waist while his other hand fell to her ass, pulling into a searing kiss that might have been just a little exaggerated for the sake of showing his lame excuse of a captor just how exhilarating the whole thing was for him. The sinful moan that dripped from his lips however was one hundred percent truth. Watching his wife tear those who tried to wrong them apart was undoubtedly a turn on.
He only pulled away once the urge for his own thirty seconds of vengeance became too much.
Poe wasn’t sporting a smirk anymore, instead choosing to adopt the rather bored expression that still adorned his wife’s face as he glared down at the other man, his fingers twitching at his side as he thought for just a moment. He knelt down, grabbing his jaw with bruising force as he simply looked him over, eyes daunting.
“You made one real stupid fuckin’ mistake,” Poe chuckled darkly, straightening back up to his full height before bringing his foot down onto his face, once just to hurt, to hear the satisfying crunch of bone breaking under his boot, waiting several long seconds to relish in the scream that sounded throughout the room before bringing it down a second time.
All that followed was silence.
He turned away from the body on the floor, his eyes immediately finding hers across the small space. He could see her hands trembling, and the fire that had been in her eyes quickly gave way to another emotion Poe hated to see.
She looked terrified.
But not of him. No, never of him.
Poe slowly closed the distance between them, taking her hands between his, looking down at them, covered in crimson that he knew would stain. He shivered gently, and let the feel of her skin on his deliver another wave of comfort that he would only ever admit or show to her.
“I almost lost you,” she mumbled, her voice breaking his small reverie.
“I would’ve found a way back to you,” he replied instantly, tilting his head to the side. “No way in hell am I going to die at the hand of a few lousy Resistance members.”
His words didn’t seem to do much for her. She only shook her head, mouth falling open and shut again several times as she tried to find something, anything to say.
Poe didn’t give her the chance to even attempt to speak again, though. He took one of his hands, grasping her chin lightly between two fingers, tilting her face up until her eyes met his once again. His other hand softly encircled her wrist, and he held her gaze intently as he brought her fingers up to his mouth, his lips closing around each individual digit as he licked the blood away from her hands, his eyes fluttering shut as he gave her other hand the same treatment.
But he stopped at her pinky, quirking an eyebrow as he slowly offered it to her, his eyes flickering down to her lips as she pulled her own finger between her teeth, sucking it clean, no longer trembling, eyes no longer haunted.
And that damned smirk fell back onto Poe’s face just as his cock twitched in his pants, and he couldn’t refrain from pulling her flush against his torso, dipping his head until his lips found hers in a greedy, passion filled kiss.
He didn’t hesitate to push his tongue into her mouth, pushing past the bittersweet taste of iron until he found one that was entirely and completely her — so familiar, so inviting.
“I’ve got you,” he mumbled against her lips, bending so that his hands could sweep her knees right out from under her, her hips meeting his as he held her tightly against him.
“I’ve got you.”
#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#star wars#poe x reader#sw#tros#tlj#tfa#poe dameron fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#first order poe
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The Taste of a Promise
(( So, @sirhisslot, I saw this picture that @thedemonconstantine made for you yesterday and, since I was already planning to write a piece with John and our favourite sassy bird, I thought to uh...sort of dedicate it to you? It seemed just fair since it’s all thanks to you if I got to enjoy all the shenanigans you guys have come up with! ^^ ))
(( It’s a bit of a piece of trash and I’m so very sorry for it, but hopefully the thought will make up for its lack of super high quality! Happy delayed birthday from this random twat person! ))
John slowly blew out a mouthful of smoke, watching as it raised up towards the night sky before dispersing in the chilly air. The scratch on his cheek was still stinging like hell, even after it had been cleaned and disinfected, and so did all the other small gashes and light cuts that covered most of the skin of his arms and chest. His shirt, while not exactly torn to shreds, would have probably ended up in the trash the next morning. The time and the effort he would have to put in repairing it wouldn’t have been worth the poor results.
Sticking the cigarette back between his lips, Constantine muttered a heavy curse under his breath. Normally, he would have paid no mind to that kind of wounds, since he was used to dealing with much worse, and by now he should have made peace with the fact that his clothes got ruined more often than not. It was part of the risks of the job, something that couldn’t be helped and that he had to put up with, no matter how aggravating for both him and his wallet it could be.
However, in that particular occasion, the culprit also happened to be the source of his current bad mood and, if there was something John was good at, it was holding grudges, even, and especially if he had to be honest, for the most stupid things. The events that had taken place that night were part of an overused, bad script that, somehow, never seemed to get old and kept repeating itself over and over and over, much to the magician’s chagrin. The fact that he was to blame for all that as much as his opponent was, in his eyes, a detail of no import. It didn’t change the fact that he had been forced to flee outside and get some air, instead of being inside with the others, enjoying his drink.
“Bloody fuckin’ bird,” he muttered under his breath, moodily chewing the butt of his cigarette.
His eyes moved up towards the sky. The feathered fucker constantly glared at him, no matter what he did or said, no matter if he had been paying any sort of attention to him or not. He probably thought that John was a bad influence and that he could exert his role as such even just by existing in the same room where Tim was. And deep down, even if he wouldn’t have admitted it out aloud, the magician might have almost agreed with the owl. However, that didn’t give the bastard any right to attack him at the slightest pretext.
Constantine let out a low groan. He wasn’t even sure of how the fight had started this time. Maybe he had said a word too much, maybe he had glared at the bird for a bit too long. Or perhaps it was because he had messed a little with the winged wanker’s food. Chas had advised him against doing it, but of course he hadn’t listened. In his defence, Tim had been around for a few days and John had really tried to behave at first, but it had been impossible for him to keep the act up. The two of them just weren’t capable of getting along. Why exactly, it was a mystery and John’s guess would have been as good as any, if he had cared enough to make one. It seemed to be one of those things that simply were as they were, almost as if they had been meant to be.
Oh, he was bad at handling those. Very, very bad.
The wandering trail of his thoughts was interrupted by the light sound of wings flapping and Constantine turned his head on his side, already scowling before his eyes could properly land on the bird that had come to perch on the railing next to him. There were several feathers missing from his plumage and the magician couldn’t help smirking in smug satisfaction, knowing that he had been the one to do such damage. He might have gained his own wounds during the fight, but the bastard looked just as worse for wear as he did.
“Woh’s up now? ‘Ell, can’t a bloke ‘ave a bloody fag n’ some bloody alone time?” He grumbled under his breath, turning his head away once again. “Didn’t yeh get enough already? Sod off, yeh tosser. ‘M not in th’ mood to go again rite now.”
The sharp look that Yoyo shot him was even harsher than John’s tone had been, but then the owl seemed to choose to ignore him and instead he started to preen, trying to make up for the mess that had been made of his feathers. That moron was a jinxed menace, a walking magnet for trouble, and he reeked of alcohol, cigarettes, bad habits, misery and, literally, of Hell itself. He shouldn’t be allowed near anyone, especially not his human companion.
And yet, for some reason that kept evading him, Timothy seemed to have grown quite fond of Fate’s Fool, against what most people would have surely agreed was common sense and good taste.
Seeing his words falling in death ears, John rolled his eyes and went back to his cigarette, barely holding back the impulse of blowing out the next mouthful of smoke directly in the bird’s face. His gaze, however, kept darting towards the owl. He didn’t trust him not to sink his cursed claws or damned beak back in his flesh the moment he had turned away for a moment too long.
The silence stretched for a few minutes, the time that Constantine needed to finish his smoke and lit out the new one, while Yoyo kept trying to cover the holes in his plumage, taking the time to shoot the man an outraged look every time he lifted his head to move his attention to another spot.
“Yeh know, if me presence offends yeh tha’ much, yeh can’ fuck off,” John eventually commented, after the umpteenth glare. “Christ. Yeh could even jus’… ” He waved a hand, gesturing to his unwanted guest to scoot away. “Lots of space on dis bloody railin’, innit?”
Once again he was ignored, just as he had expected to be, and he glanced away, muttering one more curse. He didn’t know what was worse, not being able to relax and breath, which was what he had come out to do, or the sparks of irritation that kept being fed by the bird’s snobbish attitude. It was another thing that he would have never admitted out aloud, not even under torture, but the fucker and his insistent scowling managed to make him feel every bit like the piece of trash he had to be in the bird’s eyes.
Something sharp suddenly jabed him in his side and he started. “Oi! Yeh fuckin’ wanker!”
He whipped around to fully face Yoyo. He had meant it when he had stated that he wasn’t in the mood for another round, but, if the bastard wanted to go for it, he would have made him regret it. However, he paused when he found the owl with one wing extended, pointing towards the window of the balcony.
Look, you idiot.
The displeased expression didn’t abandon Constantine’s face, but he reluctantly did what he was being told, his eyes landing on the small scene that was playing inside the apartment. Tim was sitting on the couch, holding a glass that was probably being kept dutifully refilled by Chas. Tha cabbie had to be spinning one of his stories, because he was gesticulating animatedly, perhaps a bit more than it was strictly necessary, most likely in the attempt of keeping the teen as involved as possible in whatever was being told.
Despite himself, John found himself grinning slightly. Poor old Chas. He probably felt like he was failing miserably with Tim barely offering polite nods to show his participation, even if the lad had to be appreciating the snacks that kept being shoved in his way, considering how quickly they disappeared from his plate.
What a domestic scene, carrying the taste of a normalcy and of the tranquility of daily life none of them was truly used to. An old cassette playing in the background, complementing the warm lights that lit up his best friend’s flat, the lingering smell of the homemade dinner they had shared. It tasted like warmth, like safety, like home. A thin and yet sturdy shield against all the possible, ugly realities they had witnessed.
The promise of a better, brighter future.
John turned back towards Yoyo, finding that the owl was staring at him expectantly. And, hell, if he couldn’t feel the weight of those expectations. He groaned and the bird hooted at him, irritated and firmly, preventing the magician from just ignoring him as he had been tempted to do.
So? Did you get it or are you that thick?
Constantine puffed out a bit more of smoke, but then nodded, glancing briefly towards the window one more time. “…Aye, aye, got th’ fuckin’ message,” he grumbled under his breath. “Loud n’ clear, mate.”
Those words, however, didn’t seem to satisfy Yoyo because the owl pecked him once again, a bit harder than he had done to get his attention. The flash of satisfaction that touched his dark eyes when the magician winced was impossible to miss.
And?
“N’ ‘m tryin’, alrite? ‘M fuckin’ tryin’. Fuck, it ain’t easy, yeh know? N’…good t’in’s ain’t exactly me forte,” John was forced to continue, rubbing his forearm. Yet another bruise to add to the list. “But, if there’s somet’in’ I can do to stop all tha’, too keep ‘im ‘ere, wit’ us, away from…wohte’er ugly fate’s waitin’ ‘ed for us…Be bloody sure tha’ I’ll do it. N’ I’ll leave not’in’ untried. No ma’er th’ cost.”
Their gazes met for a moment and, after squinting at the man for a moment, Yoyo this time seemed pacified. His faith in John Constantine wasn’t the strongest and it would have never been, but he could recognise heartfelt sincerity when he saw it. There was no reason to believe that the magician’s attempts would have been enough, because history had often shown how useless will and good intentions could be at the end of the day, but it was a start. And it was something they could agree on. Some common ground, together with their shared despised for that filthy crow.
Fine. Truce. At least for tonight. But be ready to meet my wrath if you even just think about making a false step around Tim.
“Wohte’er,” John replied, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Then a smirk opened on his lips. “…Fuckin’ stinky duster.”
The peck that reached his hand was strong enough to make him yell, but he found himself laughing mere second after, holding his bleeding fingers, not giving a damn about how Yoyo had puffed out his chest and his feathers, wings opened in a clear threatening pose.
His shout had been loud enough to attract Chas’s and Tim’s attention and the cabbie was already getting up from his seat, most likely to come and retrieve him, and perhaps even to give him another scolding about how he needed to stop poking the bird, but he found that he didn’t care about that either.
He grinned, widely, waving his injured hand, and damn. Behind the facade of offended anger and ruffled feather, he could have sworn that Yoyo was smirking right back at him.
#hellblazer#john constantine#yoyo#timothy hunter#chas chandler#sirhisslot#(( sorry for the totally random thing >.> ))#(( and for any typo that there might be ))#(( I tried to find them all but...I surely missed something ))#(( scotty writes ))
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RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 3: Separated Union Ch 4
Side White II: Catching Up
Welcome back to Separated Union! Here is Side White II, which will have Weiss talk with Winter and Ruby, as well as catch up with them...albeit over the phone.
I decided to upload Side White II before Side Red II...for reasons you will see soon. Prepare for some Whiterose goodness! ^^
As usual, please give constructive criticism and enjoy.
Disclaimer: Still own nothing.
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(2: 30 PM)
“So…” Winter started. “I assume things are more or less positive on your end.” Weiss nodded, “More or less, yeah.” She sighed into the mic, “Dad’s still being a pain in the ass.” The heiress’s sister sighed in agreement, “When is he not?” “When he’s gone or asleep.” The younger of the sisters said. The oldest Schnee sibling snorted, “Nice comeback… Got that from your friends?” Weiss chuckled, “Something like that. Though Klein’s also been getting more vocal about his frustration.”
Winter nodded, “Good. He, like Mom, Whitley, and us, deserves better than our father and his shitty ‘ideals’.” “Couldn’t agree more.” The heiress sighed. After a few moments of silence, the eldest Schnee sibling asked, “I assume Mom isn’t doing well?” Weiss sighed again, “She struggles from time to time, but she’s trying…” “ Verdammte hölle… ” Winter growled. “That son of a fucker…” The middle sibling nodded, “Isn’t he? I swear, he’s getting close to getting himself killed.”
“That’d be wishful thinking.” Winter sighed. “At this point, he’s going to have to be arrested. Though, given his position, it’s...going to be hard to convince authorities of his crimes…” The heiress groaned, “Why does that not surprise me? So what now?” There was silence for a few moments, before Weiss said, “You don’t know, do you?” The heiress’s older sister sighed, “No idea… Hell, it’ll be a miracle if we actually get him arrested… Let alone sent to prison.”
“I could try to get you all out of there and under protection.” Winter suggested. Weiss sighed, “You know our father WILL find out. And he will do SOMETHING to get you into serious trouble.” The older of the two attempted to protest, “What happens to me doesn’t mat-.” The heiress, however, interrupted, “Of course it matters! You’re the only one who’s remotely safe from him!” “He WILL find out and get you in trouble...” Weiss explained. “If that happens, then what? He will make sure that you can’t even see us again.” There was silence on the other end of the scroll.
"Schwester , I know you want to make sure Mom, Klein, Whitley, and I are safe…” The heiress continued. “But I want you to be safe as well. And if our father finds out, then NONE of us will be safe....” Weiss bit her lip, “Please, Winter…” After another few moments, Winter gave a shaky sigh, “You….really ARE sounding like Mom…” The heiress lowered her head, “I’m sorry…” “It’s okay, Weiss…” The young woman said, wiping her tears. “I’m so proud, kleine schwester…. ”
Weiss was sure that Winter was feeling like she had failed at protecting her and Whitley, not to mention their mom and Klein, from Jacques. However, the heiress would reassure her that she was doing the best she could later. Right now, she needed to distract Winter with happier news. “So….I’m...thinking about confessing to someone…” Weiss said. The elder of the two hummed, still sniffling, “Oh yeah? Would it happen to be a certain red clad teenager?” The heiress sighed, “That obvious, huh?”
Winter gave a small smile, “A little. Though those girls have changed you for the better. Ruby, most especially.” Weiss paused, before nodding in agreement. Yang, Blake, and especially Ruby have helped her become someone...better. Someone she could be proud of… “So, how will you tell her?” The young woman asked her younger sister, a soft chuckle emerging as she heard Weiss panic in embarrassment.
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(9: 40 PM)
Weiss hummed into her scroll’s mic, “So, I assume you and Yang are doing well?” Her leader laughed, “Yeah, Yang’s been healing well. Both physically and emotionally. Blake’s calling her whenever she can to check up on her.” “Good!” The heiress said. “Is Gambol doing the same for Ember?” Ruby nodded, “Yeah. Though it’s...gonna be hard for them. Ember’s...been in a dark place since Beacon.” Weiss sighed, “I can’t blame her. Blake seemed to be having problems as well…”
“I assume...Pyrrha hasn’t returned yet?” The heiress asked carefully. She heard the younger teenager sigh over the scroll. “Still waiting. I’m sure Jaune is getting anxious...as is Nora and Ren.” Ruby said. Weiss nodded in agreement, “Nora and Ren saw her like a sister, right?” Ruby nodded, “Yeah. We know of Jaune’s relationship with her.” She then sighed, “Gods, I hope they get a second chance to express their feelings with one another.” “Agreed.” The heiress said. “Anything else on your mind?”
The red clad teenager nodded, before saying, “I’m...beginning to think Cres MIGHT.... MIGHT be my mom.” The older teenager froze. ‘ So, she’s piecing it together on her own… ’ She thought. ‘ Better late than never… ’ “I see. Have you asked her about it?” The heiress asked. The young leader sighed, “I feel like I might offend her. Tried once before and...well…” Weiss nodded, “Gotcha. Yeah, you might want to both get her to be in a good mood before doing that and tell her that you’re serious about it.”
“Besides, there’s no need to be in a rush yet.” She explained. “Take time to think about it if you need to.” Ruby nodded, before asking, “So, how’ve you been?” There was a groan, before the red clad teenager giggled, “That bad, huh?” “Like you wouldn’t believe. My father is a total saftsack .” The heiress said, growling. “The bastard is beginning to piss me off…” The young team leader nodded, “Certainly sounds like it… From what your mom has said, he’s...not a good person, is he?”
“Not even remotely…” Weiss sighed. “Mom began to have depressive episodes and return to alcoholism thanks to him…” She swore she could see Ruby’s shocked face, even over the scroll. “Are you serious!?” The young team leader asked. “That damn connard !” While the heiress didn’t understand Ruby’s native language, she could take a guess that the young leader shouted a swear word… Which, as far she was aware, was very unlike her. Then again….it had been several months…
It was possible that Weiss had forgotten… The heiress nodded, “That he is. Not sure how long Mom, our family butler, or my brother, let alone myself, can handle him for.” Ruby sighed, “Well…. Bad idea, but MAYBE you two could run.” Weiss choked on nothing; her own breath maybe… “Are you crazy!?” She asked, in a hushed whisper as to not wake the household. “We’ll be in more danger if we do that!” The young leader cringed a bit. She knew that reaction was coming.
“Maybe… But I’m sure your mom can find you two a safe way to join us.” The young leader suggested. There was silence for a few moments, queuing Ruby to sigh, “Weiss, you know I want you two to be safe, right?” The heiress nodded with a shaky breath, “I know…” “Then please trust me. The only way for you all to stay safe from your asshole father…” Her team leader started. “Is to GET the hell OUT of that mansion…and join either Yang and Ember or...Cres and I...”
Weiss stayed silent for another few moments, before saying, “I need to speak about it with Mom and Klein first…” Ruby nodded, “Of course, take your time, but please don’t wait too long.” “I know.” The heiress sighed. “You stay safe as well, okay?” The young leader nodded, “Of course! I have Mo-...Cres and Uncle Qrow to make sure of that. We’ll be arriving at an inn soon.” Weiss nodded, “Call me when you get the first chance tomorrow, please.” “Aw~. You care about my safety~.” Ruby teased.
“Dolt. I need to make sure you aren’t getting into danger as well.” The heiress blushed. Even after several months, she was still a bit of a tsundere. “I know.” Ruby grinned. “Call me when you get a chance too, alright? Please tell your mom and sister we said hi!” The heiress smiled, “I will. Good night.” “Night.” The young leader said, before the two hung up. Weiss then put her scroll down, sighing, “Damn it, Weiss. You had one job and you blew it.” She was annoyed that she couldn’t say three certain words to her partner...
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And that’s that. Yes, I know this didn’t have much, but in the show, I really wanted Weiss to reconnect with Ruby prior to Vol. 5. Same with Winter.
Though, I think I got Weiss’s thoughts down. Yes, Whiterose will be canon to this AU. Weiss just needs help confessing to Ruby.
Speaking of the young leader, Side Red II was out for Ruby’s birthday (October 31st)! That’ll be posted tomorrow. See you then.
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DESPAIR
SPOILERS BELOW / tw suicide sort of
ah the title really does sum this up. I am filled with such dread going in. I know cas gets sent to super hell, I know the destiel shippers are declaring it canon (but then, when haven't they), and I've heard from a reliable source that the show officially as of just now is queerbaiting for real by making it vague and easy to ignore it instead of actually confirming anything. plus nobody seems to give a fuck about jack, as usual, and sam didn't get to say goodbye? god how can this get better???? I hope buckleming got to fucking murder castiel! that would really improve this for me!!! the cherry on the shit sundae for real
so okay here goes. ugh. I have this angel's envy bourbon at 1PM, oops. I feel like I will need it for this one more than the others
I also am ensconced in my castiel trenchcoat + "be super good" shirt, and cas, crowley, and sam the q-pals are joining me. dean is banished to remain in the tote bag they live in.
god I want to scream. this fucking synopsis "With the plan in full motion, Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack fight for the good for the common goal." oh the plan to use Jack as a suicide bomb???? great idea. lol I hate this. whose "common good"????????? ah but yes dean runs a dictatorship right. no wonder chuck butts heads with him
dean looks so fucking smug in the amazon prime video app, hovering over the episode where cas will die horribly. fuck. there is nothing that can emotionally prepare me for this episode
the show is going to end with sam and dean because it started with sam and dean and chuck/the IRL writers are bitter about it I guess??? delete fucking everything
god, very fucking cute of dean to be like WE GOTTA DO SOMETHING!!! you fucking piece of shit you forcememed this to go as quickly as possible because you want Jack fucking dead, don't pretend you care
god. fuck. jack apologizing for dying, to the empty. I hate everything so much
ah, so that's why the opening title screen has been that. gross. horrible. a jack singularity
is that it? really? jack's dead? just like that. okay. awful.
oh he's MAYBE dead. reassuring.
I see that briana buckmaster and jim beaver will be joining us
my cat is sitting in front of the TV trying to prevent me from watching this, trying to save me from myself
oh and felicia day
oh this one's written by robert berens, I mostly trust him I think
sam should've photocopied the book first
oh hey RSJ directed this one
I'm glad to have rachel miner back in any capacity
that's... alpha/omega on the side there? makes sense
I hope it's a fake book
god I love sam sitting on the like. what is that, weird equipment panels? more confirmation sam is queer, you heard it here
what leverage does dean even think he has
cool jack's just getting tortured now
"the boy is still useful" at least billie isn't pretending to care about him.
oh she left the book
thank fuck cas goes to him right away, please hug this child
alcohol is not gonna help you guys sleep
oh here's dean's half-assed apology. "sorry not sorry that I just couldn't stop, I couldn't help it, I just wanted to get what I wanted, and now that I didn't get what I wanted, sowwy uwu I guess"
"you've snapped me out of worse" yeah don't minimize this, sam
oh yeah michael exists. I notice dean refers to him as michael and not including adam. way to go
I notice that sam does not drink right away "to somehow"
those eggs look great
"no guns at the table" is a solid rule not only for how miserable that is, but because everything surrounding firearms is a carcinogen and doesn't need to be near food
please love yourself charlie please eat good eggs
am I supposed to know stevie, was she part of the alternate universe, I still like never watched most of 10-13
oh we're gonna kill MULTIPLE queer characters in this episode, awesome. we gonna kill charlie AGAIN??????? we brought her back just to kill her off, AGAIN? LIKE KEVIN? and bobby I guess??
can I just say how much I hate the concept of a "final boss fight" like why is it always ending in a fight, why is violence always the answer, and why do we feel like one final violent action will solve all the problems huh
charlie's shirt looks like a tycho album cover
okay so I didn't forget stevie, she was brand new? maybe?
I love cas and jack :(
feels strange because this all sucks
there's no such thing as destiny, jack
don't fucking die for sam and dean and 'the world'
damn right, cas, he doesn't need "absolution"
well that's true for you, cas, you care because he's him. dean just wants to use him
cas and jack are good.
charlie this was so not your fault. as usual this is the winchesters' fault.
tell 'em charlie!!! get 'em!!!
you're not sorry, dean.
"What now?" is a huge fucking mood, dean
oh, greg! our old friend! greg was a real one (but not anymore)
yeah eileen's screwed. this includes sam too. and dean i guess.
sam is a good person who cares about people despite dean's best efforts to stop him
I can't see who he's texting. are cas and jack in the back?
poor eileen :(
god poor sam having to basically get eileen in front of eyewitnesses who can attest that she disappeared
cas and jack are in the backseat yeah
I wish he'd tell her
she's never gonna reply now
yeah she's gone.
interesting use of technology that they couldn't've done earlier in the series, to show she was typing but then stopped
god that's awful. fuck.
"If I let myself go then I'll lose my mind. I can't, right now." that's a huge fucking mood sam let's just postpone all that grief for later. gotta shove it down. huge fucking mood. god I'm so sorry
somewhere central... the... bunker?
don't split everyone up dean, fuck
yes revenge is definitely the answer. killing things is the answer. "not having a choice" is obviously the answer. you fucker
we get a sam and dean hug but where's the one for cas.
you can like... see it in sam and jack's eyes that they are worried they're never gonna see them again.
I'm horrified that cas isn't getting to say goodbye to jack nor sam. I can't handle this.
I guess this scene is where they took that last group photo that misha posted back in march? RIP :(
oh hey donna
jack, that feeling is TheDepression
oh gas-n-sip
sam's sweet to try to give jack some autonomy here instead of having him just... being shuffled around like baggage.
is that eileen's car then
this music is intense
don't burn the fucking library
also wow dean with the reaper blade again is oof. wow. yikes. dean is become death, destroyer of worlds for real. jesus that is fucking horrifying to see. aren't you, dean? aren't you a bringer of death. remember when you hated doing that back in season... 4? 5? later?
dean has learned nothing.
sam's been trapped in a silo before hasn't he. or that panic room or something.
donna is sweet. jack is good. jack deserves better.
sam :(
donna is very kind
I like hearing jody and garth mentioned even if they're not in this episode (?)
oh hey charlie
sam at least knows how you feel, charlie
I like this set
god I've missed jim beaver
is jack going around with spraypaint? I'm like oh god there's no ventilation. I guess it's a paint bucket but still the fumes are bad. better than being evaporated though I guess
big man on campus. RIP stanford sam
at least there's a bucket.
praeses magna. "president large"?
thinking about how it would be impossible to have extras for episodes 19 and 20
I like watching jack paint
RIP that plant. apparently he has his powers
dean walks around way too comfortably with the reaper scythe.
oh but the plan has changed. did billie leave that book and nobody read it??????
dean you don't have friends, bud.
yeah how did you tink you would even stand a chance, dean. this is the worst plan ever
I'm so tired of seeing cas get tortured. I don't want to see billie get hurt either.
is "billie" actually the empty or something
"Has virtutes conliga. Eas integra. Eas firma. Nos omnes serva."
=
"These virtues bind. Those infected. These are strong. We keep them all."
idk google translate, I feel like that may not be "infected" but more like integrity
I like the effects they did on the wardings there
yeah pretty much you can't stop god
oh I'm real sad about that couple who vanished together
:( bye charlie
bye bobby. :(
bye donna???
oh that like gold paint gossamer looking shit going on with billie's arm is cool
god I'm glad billie smacked him in the face, dean deserves it. I just rewound it to see dean get clocked again, it's so worth it
so they went back to the bunker... for what? billie can just go there.
sam and jack are gonna have such a rough fucking day.
all those double cheeseburgers are back for revenge on dean
billie's right actually. dean always thinks the rules don't apply to him because he thinks he should be making the rules. castiel should be with jack, not with dean. fuck.
can't cas still heal people
the scythe on the wall is a good visual.
I really like lisa berry, she does an amazing job
is this the same room with the ma'lak box
always happy to bleed for the winchesters. christ. fuck. even with dean's pocketknife. cas I'm so sorry. sweetheart you don't deserve this.
7B? so Jack was trapped in 5B, this is a different room but probably the same actual setpiece just rearranged
do you just... have to wait her out yeah
yeah dean you suck.
correct, you never should've left sam and jack.
wow I feel zero sympathy for dean at all.
you do it to yourselllllf you do, that's what really hurts.
oh baby don't summon the empty please :(
I'm so glad to know that cas never told them about how he saved jack, it's none of their business
yeah it would be with jack, cas. you should be with him
man this is shitty.
this is like a bad fanfic for real.
wow these shots are like, when it cuts between them it's so obvious these were not the same camera lmao fuck. how many takes was this
god i hate dean.
he has not done this for love. dean is a spiteful person.
"you're the most caring man on earth" literally kill me. I want to die. jesus fuck. i want to be dead
this is awful
this sucks
this actually really hurts. this sucks so much. dean you squandered this angel's life. now jack has no father. i hate you dean winchester. i hate you. you don't deserve cas loving you
jack knows, jack can feel it.
I hate hate hate hate hate hate that jack is left alone with the winchesters. i hate this. jesus fuck i hate this so much i hate this
jack sweetheart I'm so sorry
dean you fucking ass please pick up the fucking phone. please answer sam. i hate you
god dean i hate you fuck
dean you are the worst. fuck my life. fuck all this. fuck this show. i'm so angry
castiel deserves so much better than this. fuck i'm so mad. why wasn't his moment of happiness knowing that JACK WASN'T GOING TO DIE.
i hate this. I'm so upset. fucking shit-ass writing.
and it's still not fucking canon you morons
at least uh they don't have to have extras for the last two episodes? did they add that footage after? is that what got changed up? everyone's gone huh.
god just. dump the show right into the trash. bye.
also for fuck's sake nobody gives a fuck about jack like I didn't even know he survived. nobody cares. "sam didn't get to say goodbye" FUCKING JACK DIDN'T GET TO SAY GOODBYE fuck this so much.
fuck, is dean just chuck's OC? made in his image and furious that his mini-me isn't acting the way he wants? is that why he gets exonerated at every turn? "all the evil shit you did is fine dean you're the MOST LOVING AND THE BESTEST EVER!!!" fuuuuuck
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FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky (Ch. 6)
Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.
He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.
Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort
Notes: So, @cheapbourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Read Chapter Six on AO3
or
Read it here!
~~*~~
If Edge had to use a word to describe Alphys when they staggered into her lab, it would have been exasperatedly unimpressed.
Not that Edge blamed her. After they’d brought everyone out of the rec area, Undyne insisted that they all needed a shot of whiskey and if any of their scientists would have preferred to beg off, none of them had been brave enough to do so. Red had vanished earlier, but even Edge gave in and had one. It was outside his normal, but then, all of this was.
One shot turned into several and by the time he’d been ready to drag Undyne off to see her lover, there were three empty bottles and several loud, singing Humans to see to.
Even with his own head swimming pleasantly, they’d managed to get everyone to their rooms and breakfast tomorrow was probably going to be filled with a very quiet, very pale group.
Once the last researcher was pushed through their door, they started back to crew quarters.
Undyne was either too drunk to notice Edge hesitating at Rus’s closed door or sober enough to realize mentioning it would end poorly. Either way, it left the two of them making their stumbling way Alphys’s lab together.
She looked up when they walked in and only shook her head, sliding out of her chair.
“W-who won?” Alphys asked on a sigh. As if she hadn't probably been watching it all on the security cameras.
“Aw, honeybear lovelizard baby, are you doubting me?” Undyne cooed.
Once Alphys would have melted like warmed butter beneath that affection. Now...she still melted but she did hold out somewhat longer.
Edge resisted the urge to gag. “Before you two settle into your nighttime routine, can I get you to look at my ribs? Your fishie buttercup love muffin or whatever you call her cracked two of them.” The ache dulled by the whiskey was starting to return with a vengeance.
A brilliant blush settled over Alphys’s face and she nodded hastily, gesturing him over to the machine.
He settled into the cushioned chair and closed his sockets, waiting. The same Core that powered the station also powered the machine and it started up with a low hum, vibration thrumming through him.
Edge had seen the original plans for the machine, back before they'd come to the station. The notes in the margins had been written in a hand that Edge didn’t recognize and Alphys never spoke of whatever partner she’d worked with in the past.
She also never mentioned that the original plans for it included straps on the chair that her version did not possess.
It didn’t really feel like much of anything, a moment of warmth, nothing more, but the pain in his ribs started fading immediately. By tomorrow, they’d be healed.
His brother’s treatment was only taking as long as it was because the injury was old. And, of course, for the obvious reason. “Has Red been in for a session?”
Alphys shook her head and added another layer to her exasperation. “Not yet.”
“That fucker,” Undyne grumbled. “Eh, if he’s not in by tomorrow we’ll corner him and drag him in by his tailbone.”
Alarmed, Alphys said, “G-go easy on him, all this makes him u-u-un-un…”
She couldn’t get the words out. They waited patiently but she finally shook her head. “J-just go easy on him.”
“We will, Alphys,” Edge said gently. “You know I’d never hurt him.”
She only nodded, her eyes downcast. It gave Undyne a chance to swoop in and scoop her up, ignoring her spluttering protests as she rained wet, sloppy kisses onto her brightly flushed cheeks and face while Edge could only look away in amused disgust.
“Okay, okay,” Undyne set Alphys back down on her feet with a last smacking kiss. “You can get back to your amazing, interesting shit, baby. I’m gonna talk to the Boss here for a minute.
“I literally have nothing that I want to talk about with you tonight.” He should have escaped during the distraction, his instincts were alcohol-dulled.
“He’s a chuckle and a half, ain’t he.” Undyne gave Alphys a light shove in the direction of her work table. “Let me fuck with his head and then you can tell me all about your day, all right.”
“S-sure,” Alphys gave them both an uncertain look but went back to her worktable. That she put on her headphones was as good as a promise to not listen in and when Undyne swung back to him, her serious expression was not one Edge liked. At all.
“Okay, so we’re both tiddly,” Undyne said, hiccoughing as if in punctuation of that statement. “And you fucking hate people interfering in your life. I get that. But if you seriously listen to me right now, I’ll lay off a little about the fashion victim.”
Edge gave her a hard stare and considered. “You’ll stop teasing the both of us?”
“Didn’t say that,” she said, grinning sharkily. “But I’ll lay off some.”
“Say your piece,” Edge sighed. It was hardly as if whatever she said would change anything. Involuntarily, he remembered the look on Rus’s face in the rec room. The shrunken eye lights, the way he’d backed away from them. His fear.
“I know your brother thinks he hauled in some secrets in his pelvis, but I think Red’s full of shit,” Undyne said with solemnness that belied her wobbly posture. “Rus’s fun and he’s cute as a fucking button. Have some fun with him. You can, you know.”
“Undyne—"
“Have a fling,” she went on stubbornly. “Enjoy it. Trust me, when he thinks you can't see him? That boy is always watching you.”
“He could be looking for the best place to stick a knife,” Edge pointed out. But the whiskey made his control slippery and he couldn’t help a little smile as Undyne snorted a laugh.
“Nah, not that one. That little sweetheart wouldn’t kick a penguin who stole his last protein bar.”
Edge scoffed. “You’re blinded by your own bliss.”
For once she didn’t laugh, didn’t send a fond look over to where Alphys was pointedly ignoring them. “Maybe. But you saw his face earlier. Your bro is wrong. He’s not hiding anything but a soft soul. He’s sweet on you, boss, it’s damn obvious. Two months and he’s going to be busy for a lot of it. It’s just a little distraction, so take it and—"
She signed a little clumsily, her missing fingers always making it a touch awkward, and he couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. “You just said I should toaster him beneath my bed.”
Undyne blinked and shrugged. “Well, you get what I meant.” She raised both hands before Edge could reply. “Okay, that’s it, that’s the speech. I’m gonna go see if I can talk my distraction into a little playtime of our own. See you in the morning, Boss.”
Edge took the opportunity to flee, shutting the door firmly and he sent a silent thank you that soundproofing had been included when they’d built the laboratory.
His own quarters weren’t far away and already he was feeling more sober. Alcohol never affected him for long and by the time his alarm went off, he’d be fine. Soon enough, he was settled into his bed, but for some reason, sleep was elusive.
Rus’s fearful expression refused to leave him, niggling at him. Whatever caused it, Edge wasn’t about to regret a little sparring. He and Undyne needed an outlet and that was that. He refused to be ashamed of any part of his life, not for anyone.
Perhaps he was no longer the Captain of the Guard, but he was in charge of this station and he was proud of all they’d accomplished here. They’d built this station from the ground up, the four of them; himself and his brother, Undyne and Alphys.
With hard work, they’d made this one of the most sought after facilities in one of the most remote places in Antarctica; the wait list grew longer all the time, researchers from all over clamoring to come here to work.
It also gave Alphys a place to do her work and when that was ready, it was going to revolutionize the world. Eventually.
They’d built a home here and he didn’t need anything disrupting it, especially not a distraction that would only be there for a couple months.
Edge rolled over, shutting his sockets determinedly. There was plenty to be done tomorrow and he needed his rest.
It was still a long time before he slept.
~~*~~
The next morning proved his predication true with a tableful of pale scientists. Not as quiet as expected though; at least the pair of women chatted a bit with Undyne about their upcoming excursion that day.
Edge was spending the morning with the trio of glaciologists and if their smiles that morning were somewhat forced, Edge suspected it had more to do with their headaches than anything else.
His own eye lights were continually drawn to the conspicuously empty seat across from them and his brother, who always saw more than he should, raised a brow bone over his sunglasses and nudged him with an elbow. “sorry, boss, you already missed him. the fashion victim only did a drive by, said he was working on something.”
“Good,” Edge said calmly. “Skipping meals can be dangerous living in this climate.”
It was said mostly for the benefit of the other scientists, and so Edge didn’t think he deserved the looks Undyne and Red gave him. True to her word, though, Undyne didn’t comment on it, only gathered up her pair, her laughter ricocheting through the room as they went out the door.
His brother disappeared between one look and the next, thoroughly thwarting Edge’s intent to talk to him about seeing Alphys. Not unexpected but still irritating.
Eventually, someone would corner Red, and hopefully not get bitten in the process.
His group was finished choking down breakfast soon enough and Edge led them to the vestibule to get ready. Everything was fine; his brother would get his treatment soon and so long as Rus wasn’t skipping meals, there was no reason to be concerned. Rus was here to work, after all, and seemed to be getting right into it.
And Edge had a job to do.
~~*~~
It didn’t stop him from wondering later if Rus was avoiding them all. Or perhaps that was the wrong word because he did see Rus at lunch. But instead of his previous flirty cheer, he was working on his laptop, pausing in between bites to type furiously.
That was more what Edge expected from the researchers, except somehow overnight a reversal had occurred. Now the Humans were more willing to chat and laugh, drawing Undyne and even Red into their conversations, while Rus kept to himself and his work. Aside from sharing a quick smile and greeting with Bonnie, he was as quiet now as he’d been enthusiastic before.
If it sent a sliver of disappointment through Edge, he pushed it away. This was what Rus was here for and from what little Edge had gleaned from his words, he paid dearly to get here. If Edge didn’t need a distraction, then Rus should be avoiding one doubly so. Whatever his thesis was should have all his attention.
But for one brief moment, he caught Edge’s eye light and his brief smile was the real one. It warmed him, ridiculously so, a gentle thrum in his soul. Edge ignored that, focusing on his own meal. His afternoon was booked solid and there were plenty of other tasks he needed to work on before he fell behind.
Undyne might prefer a distraction in her life, but Edge was busy. He was.
~~*~~
That night, Edge was making a last check of the station before heading off to bed. It was a long-ingrained habit and one he sometimes couldn't sleep without.
Everything seemed secure enough, not that he was particularly worried about checking the door locks. Despite his brother’s taste in ridiculous movies, Edge had little concern that aliens of any sort would invade their station.
It was more to verify that everything was in its place, all equipment was being properly maintained and signed off on. When lives depended on everything being in working order, it paid to make sure no one shirked.
The hallways and rooms were empty; it was late enough that everyone was in their room, or wherever Red was hiding out to avoid a confrontation. Everything was as it should be.
Until Edge reached the kitchen.
There was a light coming out from beneath the door and behind it, he could hear rustling.
Hm, it seemed there was a rat getting into the supplies.
He turned the door knob silently, pushing it open an inch and peering inside. To find Rus poking through one of the cabinets, the battered kettle hanging from one hand.
Well, more of a curious mouse than a rat, but one that Edge would have thought was too clever to fall into a trap. Usually.
“Need help?”
Rus jerked, yelping as he banged his skull on a shelf. He rubbed his head, wincing. “fuck, would you wear a bell!”
“You’re welcome to try attaching one.”
“no, thanks, i like all my limbs where they are," Rus said dryly. "and no, i don’t need help, i just wanted a hot drink. coffee or something.”
“Coffee will keep you awake,” Edge pointed out.
Rus only shrugged. ”i don’t sleep well anyway. and…i’m sort of cold. i thought a warm drink would help.”
That was good information to have. If any of the researchers were having issues, even ones of comfort, Edge needed to know. Sickness was always a concern and while there was nothing that Rus would infect the Humans with, there was his brother to think of.
Not that Rus looked sick, not at all. The pristine bone of his skull was glossy with health and his eye lights were wide and steady, the more delicate bones of his hands didn’t have the slightest trace of a tremble.
Even so, such an admission deserved a reward. Edge took the kettle from Rus’s hand and filled it, setting it on the stove. While he waited for it to boil, he unlocked the steel box that held his private stores and took out a box of tea.
Rus sat at the table to watch him, propping his chin on one hand. “letting me in on your secrets?”
“I trust you,” Edge said simply. With his supplies, at least. That was true enough.
A faint blush rose in his cheek bones. Rus didn't say anything, but his smile was shyly pleased.
Edge leaned against the counter to wait on the kettle, and the niggling concern of the day demanded he ask, “If we upset you last night—"
Rus coughed loudly, deliberately, and Edge stopped. “hey, so, if we could maybe never talk about that, that’d be great.” He met Edge’s gaze with a wry smile. “like the song says, i’ve got issues. it’s okay. i’m fine with it.
“All right,” Edge said easily. So long as it didn’t become a problem, Rus could keep his secrets.
It was only a few minutes work before he had two cups steeping. Once they'd finished, Edge poured a measure of honey into Rus’s cup and pushed it over to him.
Rus curled his hands around the mug with a grateful sigh. “should i be worried that you already know how i take my tea?”
“It’s my job to know about the people I’m responsible for.” Not to mentioned he’d noticed it at several meals now.
"uh huh." Rus’s eye lights were shining over the rim of his cup “how does johnson take his coffee?”
“Hot,” Edge said, deadpan. Rus only laughed and the sound of it made him warmer than the tea. “Are you hungry?”
“wouldn’t say no to a snack.”
Edge set a pan to heat on the burner and dug through the pantry, pulling out a tightly wrapped loaf of bread. He cut even slices of it, enough for a couple of sandwiches each.
"won’t bonnie get mad if you’re messing up the supply inventory?" Rus asked. It didn't escape Edge's notice that he was hunched in, curling over his half-empty cup. He was dressed in the thermals Edge had given him, but the sweatshirt he’d been wearing earlier was missing.
Edge stripped off the fleece-lined jacket he had on over his heavy thermal shirt, draping it over Rus's shoulders before going back to the pantry. If Rus was coming down sick, getting chilled would do no one any favors. “Considering that I’m the one who makes the bread, I should hope not.”
“thanks, but i'm fine.” It didn't stop Rus from snuggling into the warmed fabric. “and really? you make it?”
“It fills the day.” With a grunt, he retrieved an industrial-sized can of peanut butter, setting it on the counter next to the bread.
“you’re making us a peanut butter sandwich?” Rus sounded equal parts amused and doubtful.
"Peanut butter is an excellent source of protein," Edge countered. "Protein and carbohydrates are necessary for the extra calories you're burning keeping warm and it will help you sleep. But if you'd prefer to cook something else?"
"no, no, martha stewart, it's all you."
"You mock, but she has excellent taste."
He spread peanut butter thickly on the slices then added them to the hot pan, toasting them until each side was golden brown and the smell of roasting peanuts was heavy in the air. Edge piled them onto a plate, setting it on the table and they both ate through the stack before they even had a chance to cool, between whispery bites and sips of tea.
"that wasn't half-bad," Rus admitted, as if he hadn't eaten his fair share. As it was, he dabbled a finger in the remaining crumbs and licked it clean.
"Mmm." Edge washed down his last bite. "You should go to bed if you're going to get anything accomplished tomorrow."
"yeah." He stood, lingering a moment longer, pulling Edge's jacket tighter around himself. "thanks. for everything."
Before Edge could offer a word to that, Rus ducked his head and there was a ghost of pressure against his mouth, another stolen kiss too fast to be returned.
He started out the door, quick as before but this time Edge managed to catch his sleeve.
“Wait.”
Rus hesitated, those soft, pale eye lights wider than ever, the flush in his cheek bones brightening.
“You’ve done that twice now,” Edge said quietly. Twice in only three days. Once on the cheek, once on the mouth, as light as a falling snowflake.
“yeah?” Rus swallowed hard and he was standing there in Edge’s shirt, wearing Edge’s jacket. Cute as a button, Undyne called him, not entirely inaccurate, but also somehow pure and tempting.
So tempting.
Edge ignored the faint hoarseness in his own voice as he asked, “Do I get to return the favor?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, curving a hand around Russ’s skull and pulling him down. Pressing their mouths together, firmer than the snowflake brushes of before and Rus moaned softly, meeting it with soft pressure of his own.
Nothing more than a gentle, lingering touch and Edge drew away with reluctance, letting him go.
Rus’s eye lights were blown wide, shading sweetly orange. His smile was soft, real, even as he backed away and the door swung shut behind Rus as he fled through it. Edge didn't chase him, not even for his jacket. Instead, he pressed two fingers against his mouth, mimicking that soft touch.
Trouble, that was the word for it, all packaged in soft eye lights and a pretty smile, the scientist who paused to look at the sky.
Damn his brother for being right.
~~*~~
Read Chapter Seven
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[TEXT] Hot Mess
Who: Eliana, Charlie @serpentchar
What: E+C text for the first time since E was arrested for assault.
When: Tuesday Afternoon, 11am.
Where: Text Messages
Notes: Mentions of Sheriff Hummel, Pastor Wilde, @northsideking and heads up, there is spoiler talk in regards to Game of Thrones!
Eliana
Thank you. For getting me out. I didn’t say it yesterday.
Charlie
Of course, love. Thank you not necessary, but you’re very welcome. I couldn’t just let you rot in there.
Eliana
Technically you could have.Would have kept me from doing what you don’t want me to do.
Charlie
I know, and believe me the thought occurred to me but I couldn’t do that.I love you too much to let you rot in the NS
Eliana
I appreciate that. Deputy Dewey wouldn’t have been able to handle my sexiness.
Charlie
Right? You would turn that place into Pamela Anderson’s jail house. It’d be fun. Then I might just join you
Unless the fucker deputy tried to use his position to force you to do shit.
Then I’d have to kill him
Eliana
I like the way you think.
Nah. I’m sure he couldn’t handle all this.Though Kurt might end up with a new mother before I’m done
Charlie
He’d probably fuck himself into a heart attack. Or a coma.Lmao how’s that? You gonna charm your way into the Sheriffs pants?Least the old man could die happy with a good fuck right?
Eliana
Charm? Baby girl, you’ve seen my tits in nothing but a bra and my leather boots.I’d be Mrs. Sheriff and then actually get some shit done around here
Charlie
Exactly. I support this plan. I mean you’d have to get past Deputy Fuckface to get to him but you could do it. Suggest a threesome. I’m sure they would agree?Who in their right mind would?
Eliana
Look. If I can get him, Pastor Wilde and whoever else the fuck it was for Aidens game; I’d be infamous
Charlie
I really need to see you fuck Pastor Wilde. That would be the greatest thing ever.I’d film it.Blast it everywhere
Eliana
I bet I could.
Charlie
You should
Eliana
He helped me get to the SS when I first moved here before I met you
Charlie
You could do things for him his wife would never even think of
Eliana
Him and his kids
Charlie
See. Opening already.
Eliana
I’d just walk in and tell him I need to confess.. get on my knees..He’d probably blow his load before I could touch him.Don’t tempt me. I’ll do it.Though with King back, it’s still killing me that kid didn’t want to fuck me.
Charlie
Fuck em both at the same time
Eliana
You’re indulging the hell out of me and I approve.
Charlie
Tell the good old pastor that you need to confess. Talk about how we had a hot threesome in the church. That you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he were there.I am wholeheartedly loving this. We need good leverage sometimes.
Eliana
You’re not wrong about that. It would definitely have to be filmed then otherwise it’s my sexy but slutty word against his
Charlie
I would 100% be down to film this. Sex with Kingston would be hot. Probably get me all hot and bothered.
Not so much the good ol boy pastor, but im sure you’d be the ride of his life
And evidence is definitely needed
Eliana
Oh I’m sure I could send them both straight to heaven while I’m riding them to hell.
Charlie
Hot
More the son than the father
Eliana
Definitely the son.I mean come on
How do you not fuck someone named King?!He needs a concubine.
Charlie
Exactly. Not a concubine. He needs a Queen.
Eliana
Are you trying to gently remind me all the sex I’m goin to be missing out on??
Charlie
I mean even as a concubine you’d be missing out on sex. Concubines weren’t allowed to fuck anyone else either.
Eliana
Oh.Well fuck that noise.
He can be the concubine.
Charlie
Concubines were usually women who were considered past the marrying age, which was like mid-20sish, and they were only allowed to fuck the person they were serving. Maybe the other concubines if they were lucky, but they’d better not fall in love.
Yesss
You need concubines
Eliana
You’re such a nerd. How do you know that??
Charlie
I might be a badass but I’m also a nerd. Most people don’t know this. You’re not allowed to share this. You could always work in a brothel. Sleep with as many men as you wanted. But I don’t know if they got paid. I don’t think Littlefinger paid his girls or guys
Eliana
Game of Thrones. Now you’re talking.
Charlie
I love you. No one loves Game of Thrones like I do except you.
Eliana
I miss GOT nights with take out, alcohol, and lusting
Charlie
We could bring them back. Restart the series.I am all down for that
Eliana
Yes please. That ending was a travesty.
Charlie
OOOOH GET THE PASTOR TO WATCH GOT WHILE YOU BLOW HIM.
It really did. That whole last season was justNoI can’tIt didn’t happen
Eliana
When he cums, he better be shouting MHYSA or what’s the point?
Charlie
Exactly
Eliana
No. It didn’t happen. None of it happened. I’m totally good up until the long night but after that? No.
Charlie
Exactly. I’m good until Arya killed the Night King, but the rest of that shit? Fuck that. They fucked up Dany so badly it makes me shake with rage. I understand power going to someone’s head but damn man.
Eliana
But it was literally a cop outAnd the way she was killed?She deserved better.AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON FUCKING BRAN BEING THE NEW RULER
Charlie
Bran the fucking Broken. Man fuck off.I’m still waiting on this final book dammit
Eliana
And the way my lover Jamie went out after all his growth?I refuse to believe it’s real
Charlie
No. Not at all. I was so mad that they had Jamie just abandon all this bullshit.
Eliana
I’m pissed that Arya didn’t get to kill Cersei
Charlie
I’m just happy that Drogon survived.
Eliana
But they killed his brother is such a. Shitty way!
Charlie
Omg me too. I have to admit I didn’t think she was actually dead when the roof caved in.I thought the bitch would have survived somehow.
Eliana
But no. Just buried. Such shit
Charlie
THEY KILLED BOTH HIS BROTHERS IN SUCH A RUDE AND UNNECESSARY WAY AND IM STILL BITTER
Eliana
Fuck that show. Seriously.
Charlie
Seriously.We could have written it so much better.But I stgIf Martin doesn’t finish the last book soon I’m gonna kill him
Eliana
We could have. I doubt the dude is ever gonna finish that book. He’s old af and only writes like a page a day.
Charlie
He told the writers how he was gonna end the series in case HE DIED BEFORE HE FINISHED WRITINGLike what the fuck man
Eliana
Wait. So he’s writing it the way it ended on the show?
Charlie
But then when the series ended he said that’s not how he was gonna do it but he supported them or some bullshit thing
He said something along the lines of ‘maybe that’s how it ends maybe it’s not’
Eliana
They got to have their stupid ending.After everything dany went through
Charlie
He better write a better one
Eliana
Ugh. Fuck them all.
Charlie
Seriously.
Eliana
I’d still fuck the shit out of 90% of that cast
Charlie
I’d fuck Jon though...
Same
Eliana
Jon. Dany. DROGO.
Charlie
Ugh so MUCH DROGO
Fuck me to death
Damn
Eliana
Jamie. Tyrion. Robb. Sansa.Hell, the fucking dragons
Yes please!
Charlie
I mean I don’t want to fuck the dragons. They’re my babies.
Eliana
That’s why you were mother of dragons
And we fixed up that shirt to say “lover” or dragons for me
Charlie
Yes. 100%.
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Thrice Tipsy Chapter One: Incident Numero Uno
Summary: You and Chris have been friends since childhood, you were damn nearly siblings. Over the span of all of your years with Chris you had known your limit with alcohol, and yet it seemed that over the course of your new friendship with Sebastian you consistently ended up drunk. It didn't the circumstance or event he always seemed to catch you at your most vulnerable state. He was your friend though, right? Seeing you at your worse really shouldn't matter except well when your drunk you always threw yourself at him, and he was ever the gentleman. Always making an extremely awkward morning after.
It's funny at your age that you prided yourself in handling your alcohol consumption. It felt so trivial and yet here you were, still. However, being from Boston and longtime friends with Chris made you a connoisseur of sorts and for that, you were damn satisfied. You blasted everyone at drinking games and knew your limit so to say you could handle yourself was an understatement when it came to the booze department. Over the course of your friendship with a very handsome and challenging Sebastian Stan, you had stooped to a whopping THREE times that you had lost your senses when it came to alcohol, and you were not proud of yourself. As you lay in your bed with a massive fucking hangover you thought back over the past year and how you fell in love with your other best friend and cursed yourself for last nights fiasco and how in the hell you were going to make amends for what you did and the total and complete ass you made of yourself.
Incident numero uno:
There were a lot of things that you were sure of and even more things that you were uncertain of at your ripe age of 28. One of the things that you were sure of is that Chris was the only man in your life that you could count on since kids. You grew up together, and even though he was five years older, he was always there for you no matter the case. You count on him to buy you tampons when you couldn't leave the house or have a beer and pizza fest with you when you just wanted chill time. He could count on you to be a red carpet date for him or calm him down during one of his bouts with anxiety, and that was one of the things he loved about you. He was your family and his family welcomed you with open arms and with no questions asked.
The other thing that you were sure of was that your ex-boyfriend was the scum of the earth and that you were glad that you never slept with him but hurt to find out rather abruptly that he had, in fact, slept with most of your female friends. This led you to your current state of pondering everything.
Like, how you are still a 28-year-old virgin and how you are currently drinking alone on your friends back porch while there are tons of things to do inside to forget the douche nozzle with all of your friends. You sighed and took another swig of your drink and looked out at the stars. Adulting sucks. Hard.
Chris was laughing at something Scott said when he looked over at you sitting alone outside and frowned. He was pissed at Paul cheating but he never liked the guy and was going to deck him when he saw him next and didn't care what his mom said. Although knowing his family, they'd probably high five him for standing up for you. They always had your back, and it made him smile to himself. Truth be told he knew the perfect guy for you but the timing was never right and now here you were, a nearly drunk mess on his back porch. He chuckled at your drunken antics and that every time you drank he always got a different version of you. It was like Russian roulette.
Chris went to go and sit with you because there was no way in hell he was going to let you rot alone in your own thoughts, you were his best girl even if it was platonic. As he walked closer to the door, but he saw a figure staring out at you from his peripheral and stopped when he recognized Sebastian. Speaking of...perfect.
"Hey...man. Whatcha doin'?" He held back a snicker at how his friend tensed at his inquiry. He was caught ogling you, and he knew it. Seb quickly took some beer in his mouth and swished it around in an attempt to buy a few more moments. "Nothing...uh..just."
Chris walked closer and stood next to him and nudged him slightly.
" Ahhh. Just being a creeper then. Watching Y/N?" Sebastian sputtered his drink out a bit and wiped it on the back of his hand. "Smooth man. I hope you've got something better than that, creeper."
"I'm not a creeper, asshole. I- I was just wondering if I should talk to her. Maybe cheer her up. Wait, is that THE Y/N? The one that you always talk about?" Chris nodded. "One and only. You should go and cheer her up. Maybe you could restore her faith in humanity and all that jazz. You guys would hit it off. " Chris walked off, and Seb yelled out. "No pressure though! Thanks, shit head!"
After about 5 minutes he mustered the courage to join you outside on the porch. He already knew so much about you and hung on Chris' every word when he spoke about you, but this was an entirely different experience and while he knew you he doubted you knew anything about him and he didn't want to come off as a douche bag.
When the door opened, you expected your favorite Bostonian to emerge with a fresh beer in hand, instead stood his Romanian friend that you constantly heard good things about and always wanted to meet. Great. Just your luck you'd meet him while in a boozy haze. Fuck it. You managed a smile his way hoping to look welcoming, and he smiled back.
"Care for some company?" You scooted over after his inquiry, and he sat down next to. You didn't miss how there was barely any room for the both of you on the love seat Chris had. He used it for the hoards of chicks he finessed on dates, and you smirked to yourself. Shit head, Casanova Chris.
"I'm Sebastian by the way. You must be YN." You smiled at his smooth yet soft voice, he was a ladies man for sure and was probably looking for an easy target. "Must I be?" He lost his confidence for a moment, and you giggled, causing him to smile because he felt it in his core and it genuinely made him happy. He just wanted to make you laugh for the rest of the night.
You caught his clumsiness and chided yourself for thinking that perhaps he just wanted a quick lay. Not everyone is like Paul and you reminded yourself that Chris doesn't keep company with assholes like that. Plus you knew so much about Sebastian with how much Chris speaks about him. You could let your guard down....just a bit.
"How did you know I was Y/N? Does Chris talk that much shit about me?' He shook his head, and that playful smirk sent chills down your spine. "Nah. I mean he talks about you a lot, and I feel like I've known you for ages, but nothing mean. I don't think Chris has a mean bone in his body. I mean prankster asshole? Sure." To that, you both grinned.
"May I?" You pointed to his beer, and he looked down and offered it out to you, you took a long swallow, and he watched with hooded eyes. " So what may I ask has you out here drinking all alone?" You tensed, and he noticed.
"Sorry, its none of my business." You shook it off and handed his beer back him to which he took another drink. "No, it ok. Just took a hit in the boyfriend and friend department tonight. As in he was hitting on all of my friends and more behind my back."
You risked a glance at the handsome Romanian, and he was pissed just like Chris was when you told him. "Well, forgive me for saying this but he's a massive dickhead for breaking your heart, and you deserve better than him." You laughed at him and doubled over. "Aren't you sweet?" You said between giggles, and he just stared at you while you took his beer without asking. "I wasn't in love though. I've never been in love; I think that ship sailed. I, my friend, am what Chris calls a spinster. Fucker." Seb laughed and sat back and admired you.
A catch was what you were, spinster you were not. You laughed freely, and while you were drinking the embarrassment away of your current predicament, he only found you more intoxicating. He was determined if nothing else was to happen tonight he was damn sure going to become your friend. He needed people like you in his life. Easy going nature to calm his crazy existence, he knew why Chris kept you so close.
"So who do you want to be tonight?" You looked at him with confusion on your face. "He just smirked and stood with his hand out. "If you could be anyone you want -so I can get you to have fun and forget about being lonely." You took in his face for a moment and shook your head.
His smile was contagious, and you took his hand as he pulled up towards him. "Someone that doesn't care what any asshole thinks of me and the pity looks shot my way....and your friend." He bit his lip and you saw a blush grace his face, and you wondered if you had the power to do that to him.
"I can make that happen. C'mon, doll."
After a few dominating rounds of beer pong and darts, it was beer run time and Chris generously nominated you two for the honors. When you went to grab your phone you groaned at the 15 missed called and 48 missed texts from Paul. This was going to be a problem, you knew it.
"Do I need to go over his house and beat the asshole to death?" Chris made you jump with his proximity and reading over your shoulder. You ruffled his hair and pulled away. "NO. I'm fine. Thanks for the offer though."
"So Seb...you guys are hitting it off?" You shook your head. "Don't even go there, Christopher." He put his hands up in surrender. "What?? He's a great guy. I've been telling you that for ages." You gave him that look to shut his stupidly handsome face and he quirked his brow at you. "What? I'm just sayin." You pushed him playfully but his face turned serious and you huffed at him.
"C'mon, Chris. Guys like him don't go for girls like me. Otherwise I sure as hell wouldn't be a virgin still. Also, I don't think I'm ready to be embarrassed AGAIN so quickly so thanks but no thanks. I'll pass on sacrificing myself body to the fine ass Romanian god you call a friend." Chris grabbed his right boob and laughed your antics off.
"Shut up! I know him and I know these things. You two are my best friends.... And keep that Vcard shit quiet. I don't want to have to beat the men off with a bat, damn woman. As for Seb, he's a good guy and at least gives him a chance to be friends." You mock saluted him. "Will do, Captain Dorito!" He started to chase after you and you ran down the hall and tackled into Sebastian who was waiting for you. "Alright then, I guess you're eager to go?" You managed to regain some composure while flicking off a snickering Chris and walked out the door with the handsome brunette tagging behind you.
Seb shook his head. "See as how you're tipsy, I'll drive and you can be the copilot, yea?" You glared in his direction. " I will have you know I could drink you under the table, Mr. Stan." He opened the door for you and your mind searched for the last time any man other than an Evans had done that for you and came up empty.
" I'm sure can, doll. I've heard you've trained with the best. Tonight you were drinking for a different reason and I think you were on a mission." His voice was darker and it took the easy-going humor out of the situation a moment with the reality of your current situation. He walked around to the other side and hopped in Chris' truck.
You directed him where to go and turned on the music. " So...I can stay a few extra days if you need help... moving." You looked over at him and it took you a few moments to process what he was saying. "Wh---Oh. I don't live with that asshat." You thought you saw some relief pass over his face but threw it too not having to help his new friend move. I mean moving it the bane of people existence. Why he would even offer was beyond you.
"That's incredibly kind of you to ask. I'll hit you up when I need a lift to and from the airport though. Or when I volunteer to watch all of Chris' nieces and nephews at the same time while they are on a sugar high. I know that's always top on the list of shit people love to do. Right next to moving." He chuckled deeply and it made you smile.
"Come to visit me in New York and I'll pick you up from the airport. As for babysitting, I'll have you know I'm great with kids. " You leaned towards him and pulled your feet up on the seat. " So does that mean we're friendsies." You did your best to bat your semi-long eyelashes at him in hopes of making him blush, but even if he were, you wouldn't be able to see it. You cursed yourself for not having long ass eyelashes like the Evans men. They all have lashes like gods and it wasn't fair. Pffft men.
Sebastian's pulse quickened at your joke. Although he would love to be more than friends, now would not be the time. You were drunk and he would love to do unspeakable and dirty things, you need only ask. He wanted more though and if he gave into you tonight he knew that there was a slim chance of that, he would be just a drunken mistake and he refused to be a rebound. He knew from Chris that you were spectacular and if Chris hadn't known you forever, he would probably be with you. So Seb would bide his time until the moment was right and you weren't so vulnerable.
"We are most definitely friends as long as you can deal with my crazy late night texts and stupid face time calls where the camera is all over the place. I'm essentially a 100 year only trapped in this body." You chuckled at his statement. "Oh, so your Bucky? Good to know. Chris is already channeling his inner Captain America on Twitter. So it's all coming together." He laughed as you pulled up to the liquor store and got out.
You two walked inside and went down the beer aisle loading up the cart with some cases and some goodies. "Is it always this busy?" You shrugged and looked around.
"Holiday weekend and downtowns not too far, so they leave the bar and come here to load up." You shrugged and just as you turned the corned your face fell. Fucking Paul. You quickly turned and Sebastian's smile dropped when he saw your face.
"What? Am I going to have to hold your hair back?" You threw him face. "Please. I haven't thrown up in 8 years. Can I just meet you in the car?" He looked over the aisle and saw a bunch of guys and a few girls. "Is he here?" You refused to answer but he knew the answer. "Hey. If you want to go that's fine. If you want to pretend that I'm your boyfriend, I can do that. If you want just to go and buy this shit together, I got your back." You smiled at how honest he was and silently thanked Chris for having awesome friends.
"Alright but I warn you, it may not be pretty. He won't stop texting and calling me." Seb just threw his arm around you and started pushing the cart. "Well, you aren't gonna be able to shake me either after tonight, doll. But I can promise to never fuck you over like him." His voice was low and deep in your ear it the promise of it made your heartbeat pick up.
He kept you in his side to shield you from Paul, and the groups view and then when you got to the register you both put everything on the counter. He kept you tucked in front of him with his arms over your shoulders and wrapped around. "Y/N?" You muttered fuck under your breath and turned around.
"Hey, Paul." He glared at you and Sebastian while your ex-girlfriends eyes were glued to Sebastian. "Can we talk, babe." You shook your head. "I said everything I needed to say. Your shit is on the sidewalk of my place." Candice, your ex-hoe friend, walked up to Seb and she tried to talk to him, but he took your hand.
"Are you two together?" You shrugged and with Seb's calming proximity continued. "None of your concern, Paul." Seb turned to pay the cashier and loaded the beer and you two left. He didn't have to say anything because you could feel how dominating his presence was and you loved how he let you handle it. You knew he had you back if you needed it but he wasn't a douche bag.
"You ok." You nodded silently. "Yea. But wait until we're gone." You saw him shake his head when the door chimed and heard Paul yell. "Hey. So you'll FUCK him and not ME?" You slammed the trunk and walked around. "Fucking hell, Paul! Shut the fuck up!" He walked up closer and one of his friends went to grab his arm, and he ripped it out of his grasp. Seb was not standing between the both of you, shielding you from Paul's anger.
"Stand down, man. You don't wanna do this." Seb said it in a deep and menacing tone and damn it to hell if it didn't make you wet. You instinctively grabbed his hips and he looked back at you with a side glance to make sure you were ok. "Look I'm done, Paul. We're done." You said confidently and as calmly as possible, just wanting to enjoy the remainder of the night with Sebastian and hope that this episode didn't ruin that.
Paul just vehemently shook his head. "Hell no. We aren't done yet! You wouldn't fuck me for a year! One night with this fucking Casanova and BOOM. That's it. I doubt you are even a virgin at all. Probably a fucking whore. Sleeping with all my friends behind my back, right?!" You could feel your body betraying you, and you were NOT going to cry.
You went to walk to the truck except he grabbed your arm but Sebastian decked him and he went down. "Don't you fucking touch her!" His friend went to kneel beside him and Seb pointed to him.
"I've got no quarrel with you man, but I'm not going to let him talk to her and touch her like that. Understood." It could've been the rage in his eyes or the fact that one punch knocked out a well-built man, but no one came up to challenge the sweet fluffy Romanian that you already adored. He just turned around and walked you to your side of the vehicle and then walked to his side, never letting his eyes waver from the crowd. Then you two drove off, back to Chris' house in silence. When you got there, he unloaded the truck while you went inside with a bottle of whiskey and hid in the guest room. Chris looked at you but you just shook your head, and he knew you needed to be left alone.
Seb stood in the kitchen not knowing what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, go to you. In the few hours that he had known you, officially he felt like it was a lifetime and he only wanted to comfort you. However, he knew you probably felt differently. To you, he was a stranger and you probably just wanted to be left alone. Chris came in and he gave him the events of the last hour.
"No wonder she took the whiskey. Fuck! I hate that guy. Thank you for decking him. I was going to do it when I saw him next. You saved me a verbal lashing from my mom." Seb gave him a half-hearted smirk. "She probably hates me now though." Chris patted him on the shoulder. " I know Y/N. She's not upset about that. She's embarrassed that you were dragged into the mess. I'm sure she was stoked about meeting you finally. She's asked about you before ya know, and then on tonight of all nights. Only to have you get dragged into a liquor store brawl in Boston with her ex, I mean that's kind of soap opera style. Plus he outed her V-card." Seb blushed from Chris summing up the evening and the information overload.
"I'm going to go talk to her. I gotta leave soon and I can't leave her thinking I think less of her because of some prick. She fucking awesome and I want to get to know her." Chris smiled at his friend as he took two steps at a time upstairs in search of you.
You were two more shots gone and thought about Sebastian. He was probably gone by now. Fuck. What an epic mess. Maybe you could get Chris to have him give you his number, and you could message him? You shook your head. Nope. Who would want to talk to you after this disaster of an evening? He almost had his money maker busted to hell in a Boston liquor store parking lot because of some girl he hardly knew. What the fuck?
Just as you were having an internal battle someone tapped on the door.
"Chris I swear to fucking hell. I will throat punch you if you don't leave me the fuck alone. I don't need your coddling right now man." You turned when the door opened and saw the shy face of Sebastian poke through. "Um...how about your new favorite drinking buddy?" He had a beer in hand and you held you bottle up.
"Think I'm covered but you're more than welcome to come and join me." You patted the spot next to you on the loveseat looking out on the hooligans in the backyard. "I hope Mackie busts his ass. I feel like I need that in my life right now." You chuckled beside him.
"Especially after all of the drama, I dragged you into." He shrugged and took a swig of the beer. "Not your fault, doll. I don't blame you. Truth be told I would've done it again in a heartbeat, asshole deserved it. I'm just sorry if I upset you." You were staring at him while he spoke and he finally looked at you after he was done. You both stared at one another for a few moments before you broke out of the trance.
"Thank you for standing up for me, Sebastian. I hope...I hope that we can still talk when you go back to New York." He gave you a genuine smile and it gave you butterflies. You rolled your eyes and nudged his shoulder and looked out at Chris tackling Mackie with a girlish squeal. "Stop tryin to charm me, Stan. I'm better than that. If I haven't dropped my panties yet I doubt your gonna get me to drop em with a simple smile." He laughed.
"You're Boston accent comes out when your drunk. Also, I know you're better than my charms. I would say you're immune to most men's charms if you're 28 and...." He trailed off before finishing.
You scoffed. "What? 28 and a virgin?" You said it more harshly thank you intended, but men's attitude tended to change when they found out that little fun tidbit about you. "Yea. I mean I think that's remarkable that you are waiting for someone special. That you haven't fallen for any guy, especially like Paul." You both laughed, and again you found yourself looking at him.
"You don't think it's weird? Chris even calls me an oddity among the female persuasion." He smiled. "Leave it to you to use long sentences when drunk. No, I don't think its weird and even if I did who the fuck cares? Weird just means interesting to the people that matter. I think you are one the most entertaining people that I have ever met and I'm sorry that tonight wasn't perfect." You shrugged, parts of it were perfect but you weren't going to dare let out a cheezy line like that.
So instead you went for a more philosophical route."Sometimes things have to fall apart so they can come together." His eyes fell on you in a way that you damn near shivered, and he bit his lip. You wanted to kiss him and say fuck it, screw the moral high ground. The booze had thoroughly broken your virtuous compass and the way he was looking at you at the moment with his arm over the back on the loveseat and his thigh pressed hard against yours. ...
"Y/N..." He whispered and went to remove his arm from around you and without another word you leaned in and kissed him before he could object. At first, his body was rigid but then he relaxed and the arm that was on the couch went around your waist pulling you towards him. You hummed into his lips and he moaned. This fucking godlike man that was more handsome than all the men in Boston combined was kissing you and he groaned.
Your hands went into his long and soft hair and scratched his scalp as he deepened the kiss further. The booze and the lust were clouding everything, but you knew that you wanted this man, even if only for a heavy makeout session. He could make you cum from his lips on yours alone, and that was the only thing that you could think of now. All of your senses were on overload. His beard rough on your skin, his lips warm and wet, his voice deep and rugged.
When you heard your name on his lips again, you were done. You climbed atop him and straddled his hips. His delicious thick thighs beneath you and his beard tickling your neck when he dove into your nape, nipping and kissing your sweet spot. "Ahh. Fuck Sebastian.." You ground your hips into his hard erection, and he bit your shoulder and then licked it to soothe the sting. You gasped out loud, and he pulled back a moment giving you had a moment to look into his eyes. Lust blown, lips swollen, hair mussed, fucking beautiful.
"You are so lovely. How are you here with me right now, doll?" He leaned in and gently kissed you, slowly this time and guided your hips slowly into his clothed cock over your wet heat and you moaned into him. His tongue swept and invaded your mouth while your hands tugged on his hair. Your hands went down his shirt, and toned chest and his breathing picked up, but when they found his pants, he was damn near hyperventilating and pulled away from you.
"What? Did I--- What?" He shook his head. "I can't do this. You're drunk, doll." You smiled and kissed his neck while sneaking to his buttons and he growled as you pleasantly moved against him again.
"That wasn't stopping you a few seconds ago. C'mon Seb, I know you want me." He shook his head and took your face in his large hands. "Not like this, Y/N." Your eyes focused on his face and you saw that he was resolute in his decision. Any action that you were hoping to get was not going to happen. One awkward moment after another with this man just kept happening. The fucking domino effect of epic proportions. For the second time tonight and quite possibly the second time in maybe three years you were able to cry. Son of a bitch. You hastily climbed off his lap, and he jumped up discerning that you were very much upset and that it was not what he wanted to do.
"Hey. Hey. Please. Can we..just talk." You shook your head and grabbed your phone and tried to get around him while looking to the ground. "No. I think I've done enough tonight." He bent his head down to try to look you in the eyes. "Please, doll. Please. I don't think that you would like me very much in the morning. I can't be your regret."
You laughed humorlessly. "I don't think I'm going to like myself very much in the morning. I've made a complete fucking ass of myself in front of the most handsome man I've ever met who made me foolishly feel like I wasn't one of the guys for a while. Oddly enough right now I feel worse than I did in the beginning of the night. Please just let me go." You braved a peek at him, and he looked gutted as you took the opportunity to run out.
He only heard Chris yell your name as you slammed the front door.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next few days Sebastian stared at the pictures on his phone that he had taken of you two that night. Chris had given him your number but told him to wait a few days because while you weren't mad at him, you were humiliated. Some of that needed to dissipate before he started to talk to you.
By day three he couldn't wait anymore.
Seb: Hey, doll. Hope you don't mind. I got your number from Chris.
About an hour went by, and he was nervous and frustrated wondering if he should've waited another day or week. Damn him and his patience. He was worse than a kid on Christmas day.
You: Well if it isn't Sexy Seabass. How's New York? I would say Boston misses you, but a significant portion is ready to kick yo ass.
He chuckled at your sass and was happy to have you respond and even happier that you were sober and not hating him.
Seb: Sexy Seabass? Stay away from Mackie. He's a bad influence. You've got enough sass as it is! I miss Boston and I'm ready to throw down anytime. Especially if it's in your honor. Remember I'm part Bucky Barnes!
You were quick to respond this time and his heart raced.
You: Well I promise to keep you out of the Boston brawls next time you come. We can't have your money maker ruined. I mean you need to make a living, and your acting skills are sub-par. Let's be honest. ;)
He laughed but then his heart fell.
You: I also promise that I'll keep my hands to myself. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable.
He didn't know how to handle it. Should he play it off and be friends or should he leave it open-ended?
Seb: I wasn't uncomfortable, doll. Trust me when I say that I adore you and I want to know you.
He felt like that was safe, and you could take it as friendship or as more if you wanted. Heaven knows he wanted more and would fly back to Boston know and take you on your first date if you only said the words.
You: Good to know that you're a charmer when I'm sober and drunk...."
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#Sebastian Stan#sebastianstan#miniseries#sebastian stan reader#sebastian imagine#reader#romance#love#friends to lovers#real person fiction#sebstanfic
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Perilous Paradise
Unknown x MC
Series Rating E (18+)
The last thing I remembered was the ringing in my ears as Unknown’s body covered mine. It had all happened so quickly and unexpectedly. A betrayal that unhinged this beautiful man turning him into a monster. Only, none of his rage was directed at me. Quite the opposite actually. He seemed more determined than ever to protect me and keep me safe. So much so, that he put his own life on the line becoming a human shield for the swarm of bullets that rapidly fired in our direction.
“Unknown!” His body went slack and I feared the worst as I rolled struggling to push him off of me. The group that had open fired on us ceased the onslaught but something told me they were far from finished. They wanted him dead and that most likely meant that his so-called Savior who had betrayed him wanted proof of his remains.
“Unknown? Unknown!” I shook his seemingly lifeless body over and over, terror filling my entire being. I knew I should run but there was no way I could just leave after everything he had done to protect me. Flashlights bobbed over the horizon reminding me the enemy was still out there and currently looking for us.
“Unknown?! Please! Please open your eyes!!! I need you! Please don’t leave me...” I began to sob. His eyes twitched then scrunched shut tighter informing me that though he was alive, he was in pain.
“P-Princess?”
“Oh thank god...” I threw my arms around his frame and then began to check quickly for the injuries but he quickly stopped me.
“Are you....alright?” His breaths were labored speaking as though the wind had been knocked out of him.
“I’m fine...you’re not. Where does it hurt?”
“N-Nevermind that. We...have to...ahh......get out of,,,,here now!” He slowly got to his feet and I tried to stop him but he brushed off my fussing over him. He was bleeding in several places and when my face scrunched up in concern he offered a smile like it was no big deal.
“I’m not gonna lie Princess, I’m definitely hurt but it’s not so bad that I can’t get us out of here, but I need your help.”
“Anything, what do you need me to do?” He leaned on me and I quickly wrapped my arm around his torso to help him stay balanced. He nodded northwest.
“That way, go. Quickly.” Using me as a crutch we made our way hastily to the tree line and into a thick pine forest. It would have been dark enough during the day with the immense height of the trees. In the darkness of night it was nearly impossible to see your hand in front of your face.
“I hope you know where we are going because I can’t see a goddamn thing.” I mumbled causing him to snort.
“I know this place like the back of my hand. Keep walking till I tell you to stop.”
“Okaaay?”
“Still don’t...trust me huh?”
“That’s not it and you know it. I just can’t even tell if I am walking in a straight line. Plus, what if there are like..ya know, bears and shit in here?” He chuckled as my imagination ran wild.
“Bears? Don’t tell me the Princess is ...afraid of a bear.”
“Why am I somehow not surprised that you aren‘t?” He tightened his grip and I slowed down.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to slow down?”
“Did I tell you to slow down?”
“No?”
“Well there’s your answer.” I audibly sighed. Even wounded and on the run in a pitch black forest, he still is a smartass.
“Up ahead we are going to make a sharp right. I’ll tell you when.”
“Okay..” We continued on this time in silence and determination as the adrenaline fueled us forward.
“Right up here...…”
“Now?”
“Few more feet.” I could feel my heart thumping against my chest as my feet traipsed over a blanket of dried pine needles.
“Here.” I did my best at making a right turn. Changing direction we slowly began a steady incline up a rather steep hill.
“Are you okay?” I asked, trying my best to disguise the worry.
“I will be once we get where we need to go.”
“And seriously where the hell is that?!” He didn’t answer which meant I was probably better off not knowing.
“Can you at least tell me how much further?”
“As long as it takes to get there.” I groaned again and felt his body shake as he tried to hide his laughter.
“You really are an asshole sometimes.” I let slip.
“Yeah? You think so?”
“Yes, I do!”
“Mm. But that’s what makes you like me so much.”
“W-Who said I like you!” I was grateful for the darkness as I felt my cheeks burn. I may not be able to see his gorgeous face but the heat from his body and the close proximity of his voice were enough of a reminder how close he was to me.
“Oh? My girl sure is fickle. Perhaps she needs to be properly disciplined.” My body stiffened at his suggestion and without even having to see I knew he was smirking. Figures.
“Up here to the left.” He chuckles at my sudden lack of confidence I had wielded up until his last statement. We make our way through a break in the trees that shift from the tall pine to a regular countryside. When my feet collide with the gravel I am surprised at just how accurate he had been. This man seemed far from human at times.
“We’re here.” Here? We are still in the middle of nowhere in the blackness of night with no signs of a building or shelter of any kind. Thankfully now that we’re out of the tall pine forest, the light from the moon gently lends a soft glow to our surroundings allowing us to make out objects close by.
“What do you mean ‘here’? There’s nothing right here!” When I finally cast my gaze in his direction my breath hitches at the way the moonlight catches his eyes making them seemingly glow.
“If it was that easy to find it wouldn’t be safe now would it?” Laughing at my confused expression, he nods with his head at the ground next to a large oak.
“What? A tree? What are we, Swiss Family Robinson?”
“You were expecting a tree fort? Actually that’s not a bad idea. Would give me a great advantage over our enemies should, or rather when, they come over that ridge.”
“Unknown, I’m seriously confused.”
“Relax Princess. You should know by now, don’t judge a book by its cover.” He hobbles over to the old oak and brushes away some old leaves and branches from the dirt. Clutching his arm and limping he then squats down and lifts something that appears to be very heavy before disappearing into a hole in the ground.
“What the....” I follow hesitantly and am surprised to find a light coming from somewhere within.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Get your butt in here.” It was impressive to say the least. It reminded me of a military bunker. Minimal furnishings, just the essentials and a well stocked shelf of canned goods, first aid supplies and to my discomfort, weapons. Mostly an assortment of hunting knives, but also a rifle and a revolver and a healthy stash of boxes containing bullets and shells from previous trips here I imagine.
“Did you shut the hatch behind you?”
“Yeah but if there’s some kind of lock I haven’t a clue.” From behind a makeshift curtain he stepped out in nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist, his typical sexy grin on his face. In his hands were a towel, rubbing alcohol, a needle and thread and something that resembled pliers.
“W-Whaaaat is that?”
“What these?” He snickered as he demonstrated how they worked.
“Umm....”
“Don’t tell me you can’t handle the sight of blood Princess.”
“Would it matter?”
“Well, if you’re gonna be my girl you better get used to the stuff.” His grin practically sparkled.
“You’re terrifying sometimes.” I stated bluntly, furrowing my eyebrows at him.
“Oh beautiful, you have no idea.” He positioned himself on a chair and set down the items he had procured on a table next to him. Unwrapping the towel my eyes immediately looked away as my cheeks began to burn.
“You know Princess, you are quite fascinating. A few hours ago you were practically begging me to fuck you and yet now you shy away? Are you purposely playing coy or are you really that innocent?”
“Y-You’re the one who is naked!”
“Kinda hard to pull the bullets out through your clothes but hey....if it’s making you that uncomfortable feel free to join me.” Full of ire at this beautiful smartass, I decided it best to prove right here and now where I stood when it came to a mess like the one we currently found ourselves in.
“Gimme that before you make it worse.” His shock gave way to being quite impressed as I ripped the pliers from his hand and looked at the bullet embedded in his side.
“Damn that looks painful.” I unintentionally cringed but he just giggled at my dismayed reaction.
“Oh don’t stop now, I’m dying to see you fuck this up.” He teased wearing a grin like he was truly expecting me to do further damage rather then help rectify the situation. Steeling myself, I pushed into the wound and tried to grip the bullet but it slipped. He just giggled further like this fucking tickled rather than caused him pain. Once more I tried to grip the bullet but it slipped and now I was sweating even though he seemed like this was a typical Tuesday stroll through the park.
“Third time’s the charm Princess.” He practically sung watching me with feline-like eyes. Determined, I pushed in further disregarding the mere notion that this caused him pain and finally got a solid grip on the slug and twisted as I pulled it out. He quickly pressed the alcohol dampened cloth against the now bleeding wound as he took the pliers still holding the bullet from my hand. He inspected it thoroughly before bursting into semi-hysterical laughter leaving me confused.
“Even death itself is afraid of me.” He snickered. When he caught sight of my concern he explained.
“You see this?”
“What, a bullet?”
“Yeah, or rather a dud of sorts. These fuckers are designed to burst on contact and shatter you from the inside out. This little fella failed to do its job which is why I am still sitting here.”
“That’s wonderful! It’s a miracle!” I exclaimed. He on the other hand didn’t seem to share the same sentiments.
“Yeah. It’s fucking amazing. I can’t even die right.”
“What, you WANTED to die?!” He shrugged his shoulders like it was a typical simple question.
“Why?! What even happened back there? Seriously, just who the hell are you Unknown?” He began to sew up the wound and decided to finally explain.
“Let’s start simply. Remember when I told you I belonged to a religious cult?”
“Wait, that was true?!”
“Yes. I am.....was, a member of the religious order called Mint Eye. My “Savior” was the one who founded it several years ago. The man you know as “V” abandoned and tormented Savior and she sought retribution. I have faithfully served her since the beginning. That is, until now.”
“But why? Just what the hell happened when you told me to wait there and went on without me?”
“Savior’s precious “V” decided to return and unfortunately she fell victim to his lies once more. He convinced her to betray me. Me, after all I have done for her. After all I have sacrificed for our eternal happiness.”
“But how? How did she betray you?” He tied off the knot and once again held the cloth over the stitched wound as he stared intensely into my eyes.
“She sold me out to get to my Father. She wanted to sacrifice me to gain power that would make her untouchable.”
“Why, who is your Father?”
“Nothing you need to worry about now. All in good time Princess.”
“So now what?”
“Now we take the fight back to them.”
“What?! N-No! You already miraculously walked away once! Why go back there? Is it really worth your life?” He became still and stared at me with such intensity I could barely breathe.
“Yes.” The conviction with which he states this is so potent I can do nothing but try my best to understand.
“Okay.”
“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done this far but, if you wanna walk there’s the door.”
“What?! I’m not fucking going anywhere. Sure you’re reckless, unpredictable, and I’m really starting to believe insane but how the hell can I just walk away now?”
“Easy, walk your ass through that door and never look back.”
“Do you not want me here?”
“I don’t want you hurt because of me.”
“Well you should have thought about that before you decided to steal my heart. I’m not going anywhere Unknown, I’m your girl remember?”
“You realize this is incredibly dangerous right?”
“Yes.”
“That we could easily die?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still willing to follow me?”
“YES. I told you already, I’m not going anywhere. For some insane reason, I love you.”
“What did you just say?!”
“I said I love you, Unknown.” A strange look came over him and a moment later I was pressed against the wall, his hand around my neck squeezing.
“Lies!” Seething rage poured from him as he somehow now regarded me as something dangerous.
“It’s......not...….a......lie.....” I choked out unable to draw a breath. His eyes were wild and his breathing became erratic.
“No one! Not even my Savior loves me! DO NOT LIE TO ME!!!” Tears rolled from the corners of my eyes as I struggled in vain to taste oxygen. His intimidating form glared angrily at me as he showed no signs of relinquishing his grip.
“W-Why...…..?” I squeezed out.
“Why what?!” He spit angrily.
“W-W-Why......can’t I......love...….you? I’m......sor….ry.” More tears rolled down my cheeks and I watched as the anger fled from his eyes and turned to hold regret and sorrow.
“_______.” Finally letting go I immediately sucked in as much oxygen as my lungs would allow. The dizziness from the rush of blood flow returning left me dizzy and I fell forward right into him. However, I was not met with any hostility. No, this time I was held delicately, like a porcelain doll. Fragile and easily breakable.
“Forgive me. I-I’m so sorry Princess.” He just held me tightly in his embrace and soothed me till I returned to normal.
“I lost control. I’m so sorry. I’d say it won’t happen again but, without my elixir...”
“We will....get through this....kay?” I offered still comfortably tucked in his embrace not knowing what the hell I had gotten myself into, but, the fact remained that I really meant what I said. I love him.
“Yeah Princess, we are, but.... we’re gonna need some help.”
“Help?”
“Unfortunately, there’s only one fucking person who CAN help us.”
“W-Who?” He squeezed a little tighter before breathing me in.
“The goddamn Redhead.”
#mysme#mysme unknown#mysme fandom#mysme fanfic#mysme saeran#mysme saeran choi#mm#mm fanfiction#mm fandom#mm unknown#mm saeran#mm saeran choi#mystic messenger
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💣STATISTICS
𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝.
𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜.
𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎.
BASIC INFORMATION.
Full Name: Valentine Segreti (no middle name)
Nickname(s): Val, Bomber, Bomb. Tiny to very, very, very few in his past.
Age: 41
Date of Birth: Feb. 16th, 1977
Hometown: Dertosa lol. He’s never left.
Current Location: Dertosa, oh boy. This is depressing.
Ethnicity: Sicilian. There’s something else, too but God knows what. Guy’s a mutt.
Nationality: American
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/him
Orientation: tragically het/het
Religion: Agnostic. You get a fist to your head as many times as he has and try to tell him there’s a God.
Political Affiliation: That’s laughable.
Occupation: Head of Security at Forbidden Vices
Living Arrangements: He lives on his own in a small apartment not too far from Vices.
Language(s) Spoken: English
Accent: He’d say he doesn’t have one. The inflection of his voice is very rough, though.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.
Face Claim: Jon Bernthal
Hair Colour: dark brown
Eye Colour: dark brown
Height: 6′3″
Weight: 210lbs
Build: Fit, athletic. Despite not having boxed in years he’s in the gym keeping it tight and right because that’s the only life he knows.
Tattoos: Val’s arms, legs, and chest are covered in a variety of odds and ends, none of which are particularly meaningful to him. His tattoos mostly consist of the type of flash pieces you see hanging on the walls of tattoo parlors. Eagles, playing cards, pretty women, panthers, crosses, etc.
Piercings: No piercings.
Clothing Style: Val dresses in what’s comfortable and practical for him. He’s no fashionista, but he dresses okay. A typical outfit for him would be boots, denim, a white or black tee, and either a leather or denim jacket.
Usual Expression: Relaxed, contemplative.
Distinguishing Characteristics: Val’s nose, which takes over his face in a unique way. It’s a product of years of being broken and healed over and over and over again. He got lucky though, in that he’s still got a pretty good looking mug, unlike the rest of those underground boxing fuckers.
HEALTH.
Physical Ailments: HAHAHA shit Because of the nature of his past “occupation”, Valentine’s body is fubar. His joints click. His shoulders frequently pain him from past lacerations that weren’t healed properly. The same goes for his knees. His hands swell in the night when not in use. Basically, if you name a part of his body he can tell you something that’s wrong with it. Aside from the important parts, wink wink, nudge nudge.
Neurological Conditions: Mild memory and cognitive issues due to multiple concussions.
Allergies: Does bullshit count? None.
Sleeping Habits: Val goes through phases of sleeping really well or not sleeping at all.
Eating Habits: He’s a human garbage can. He will eat almost anything that’s given to him. He loves home-cooked food, but he’s not a good cook, himself. His diet basically consists of whatever he can grab quickly and doesn’t have to think too much about. That being said, he does eat often, and loves to snack. He’s almost always hungry.
Exercise Habits: Valentine goes to the gym daily and spends the majority of the daylight hours there. He doesn’t have much else to do in the daytime besides sleep.
Emotional Stability: Despite having plenty of demons and sorrows of his own, Valentine is a pretty stable guy considering. The only thing that throws him out of whack is when someone tests him hard enough to make him snap, because that is when he switches gears and can become extremely hostile.
Sociability: Val prefers being around others. When he’s alone he has too much freedom to start thinking, and when he starts to think he starts to become depressed. For this reason he is rarely by himself, but rather out in public.
Body Temperature: Val is very hot-natured. He’s always warm, but he doesn’t feel warm, himself. He’s like a human heating pad lol.
Addictions: In the past he was addicted to a number of stimulants. It wasn’t the drugs, themselves, that he was addicted to, but rather the action of taking them because of his own mental issues that he didn’t know how to handle before getting sober.
Drug Use: See above. Cocaine and speed were big factors in his addiction.
Alcohol Use: After he was dumped by his coach and the underground boxing crowds, Valentine became an alcoholic to deal with his bodily pains and the fact that he had nowhere and no one to turn to. This ended when he was taken in by the drinks, specifically with Drink #2.
PERSONALITY.
Label: The Loyalist, The Ghost
Positive Traits: Adaptable, easygoing, faithful, loyal, powerful, straightforward, tough
Negative Traits: Detached, impatient, indecisive, moody, stubborn
Goals/Desires: To protect the Drinks and Vices to the best of his ability. To not fall to addiction again. To open up enough to let others close to him.
Fears: Addiction, drowning (he cannot swim), ending up all alone.
Hobbies: He keeps a pretty mean fish tank in his apartment. The sound of it helps him sleep. He also collects auto magazines, but that’s just a fancy way of saying he’s a hoarder and doesn’t want to throw them out. Sometimes he will coach hopeful young boxers at the local gym he works out at if he’s asked. It’s not exactly a hobby, but sometimes Val will drive out of Dertosa to the outlying desert just to see something that big. He never goes much further than that.
Habits: Val is almost constantly cracking his knuckles and various joints in his body that pop. He snaps his fingers at his sides sometimes when he’s thinking. He likes to whistle. He can never sit in a chair quite right; he’s either leaning back or stretched out, never upright. He clenches his jaw frequently. Like any good Italian, he’s prone to gesture with his hands when he speaks.
FAVOURITES.
Weather: He loves when it rains at night and you can see steam rising off asphalt.
Colour: He doesn’t have a favorite, but he’s partial to red.
Music: Classic rock, mostly. He likes hiphop, rap, and some of the trap stuff that’s been released lately even though it all sounds the same.
Movies: Action films. He doesn’t keep up with Hollywood or recent films, but he loved the Fast & Furious series.
Sport: MMA, Boxing, Wrestling
Beverage: Arizona brand fruit punch in the 99 cent can.
Food: Oh god anything. He loves a good burrito or bowl of pasta best.
Animal: Dogs. Jesus Christ he loves dogs so much.
FAMILY.
Father: Who?
Mother: Her name was Marianne Segreti, but she went by a different name on the streets. She died in ‘97 when he was 19. He doesn’t like to talk about it, or her.
Sibling(s): None? Honestly he probably has some half-siblings out in the world somewhere.
Children: None. He always did want a daughter though. He’s just never had the opportunity.
Pet(s): He has fish. They’re all named Fish. He wants a dog but he doesn’t want the responsibility.
Family’s Financial Status: He was dirt poor growing up. His mother had no extra money outside of what was used to rent motel rooms for her and Valentine to sleep in at night. He wasn’t wealthy, but he became moderately affluent during the height of his illegal boxing career, but that was short lived. He does okay now.
EXTRA.
Zodiac Sign: Aquarius
MBTI: ESTJ
Enneagram: Type 5 - The Observer
Temperament: Phlegmatic
Moral Alignment: True Neutral
Primary Vice: Envy
Primary Virtue: Humility
Element: Earth
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astoundingly long train of though not brought on by any recent activity (don’t worry) and solely because i had to disinfect my cardboard cut from work and actually did
so warner pretty much never intervenes with my more troublesome behaviors, we all know this. he lets me do what i need to do and then take responsibility for the consequences. sometimes he offers support afterwards in the form of non-judgement, thought suppression*, helping me get up, and telling me to keep walking. he actually doesn’t do a lot, he just offers quiet company without pitying or insulting me. maybe that is a lot. i digress
this is only notable because he almost never even really steps in afterwards, except for the like one ultimatum he gave me relatively recently, which was “You will disinfect open wounds.”, referencing primarily self-inflicted injuries.
i never used to apply rubbing alcohol to anything because it just hurts so much. literally never. last time was when my dad applied it when i was 12 and i vowed never to let that shit touch a wa again. but after i cut my arm pretty bad that one time and didn’t disinfect it, warner was like “Don’t you ever fucking let an open wound get gross.” and i have so far properly cleaned every goddamn laceration i’ve gotten since. it’s weird. i still really really don’t want to but every time i’m like “well i’d rather die i hate this shit”, i get the “Nope. You have to clean it.” in my head, so i do.
i think the CPU understands (or supports) that none of us (least of all me) like our habits or character interfered with, which is why warner never steps in no matter how much i choose to escalate things, so i think it’s interesting that there is some vestige of control left out of my reach for instances it considers worth intervening in. maybe it’s because i freaked out so bad at the time, but in retrospect i ended up not minding at all (i thought it was pretty cool) and yet the demand hasn’t lifted.
*thought suppression is usually just him being present and thinking of nothing, so my anarchistic mental shrapnel is quietly boxed out. sometimes he semi-fronts to get me to chill out a little by just being the calmer personality. neither of us can actually manipulate thought, it’s more of a coping function.
with the exception of this recent ultimatum. i actually think there have been less stark prior instances but i can’t recall them. even then i think it was things i more or less begrudgingly agreed on, like ‘stop stalking people who don’t want you to’ and wacky shit like that, so it’s not as comparable. it’s just a little weird to me. i definitely wouldn’t still be doing it if it weren’t for his influence. i don’t care that much
ended up wondering why this was the only notable stand warner ended up taking. maybe it’s just the one hole in my extreme carefulness and the CPU just had to fill it somehow. that’s most likely. i almost always think three steps in advance even when i’m lashing out at myself (level of severity, consequence, ability to be hidden, etc), but i happen to fuckering hate the stinging from rubbing alcohol which i figure i would otherwise sensibly use, according to patterns in previous personal damage control.
i think it’s still worth noting. there are three traits his character has that worry me in terms of safety in the scenario where he is the host. a) poorly regulated depression and consequential lack of passion for anything, b) nicotine addiction (very minorly, just a lame inconvenience), and c) a ‘history’ of cutting. yeah that’s right he ended up keeping that even after we all disavowed backstories so i still have to worry about it even though he’s never done anything irl. thanks
but that coinciding with his only real interjection is what makes me linger. he and i have different methods and mindsets surrounding it, so we actually don’t relate to each other much on it, despite the shared ground. it’s his primary self harm, it’s one of a variety for me, he did so with suicidal intentions, i do it to alleviate emotional episodes, his is very standard in appearance but i keep covertness in mind and have serious aversions to traditional cutting, etc.
we also disagree on the severity of mine. i’m aware of how fully in control i am (im also a huge coward, etc, etc, a whole heap of exposition i don’t want to get into but i can actually defend myself quite well) and 100% cannot empathize with the fact that HE actually finds it a minor but marked concern.
i’m not convinced he processes my clarity of thought and thousand and one safeguards (i can tell it just doesn’t reach him regardless of what i say), so i figure it’s just because, as a person, he personally had worse issues with it and that’s all he can see. again. weird... because he is not a real person and this is maybe not a useful take... but it’s the best reason i can come up with for the idiosyncratic response.
and i know. concern over self harm isn’t that out there, especially from someone who functions as a survival mechanism. but here’s the thing: i’m concerned about it. i’m extremely cautious and conscientious. i know my limits and i hate pain and consequences too much to ever reach them. that’s who i am as a person. the cpu assigns alters that deal with things i’m not concerned enough about. things i can’t handle properly, or can’t control, etc.
i know when i’m not in control enough and i can feel the cpu find plugs for those holes without me, for better or worse. warner takes certain things more seriously for me because i don’t. thesely and dianthys and II embody the idea of ‘letting go’ to varying degrees because i’m fucking incapable of it. but i am always in control when i hurt myself because i am very afraid of death, and also owies, so his concern over that seems outside of cpu regulation. i don’t feel the cpu worrying about it, even when i feel it worry about other things that i don’t find concerning.
so to me it seems like it might be 45% cpu sensibility (the standard ‘going above and beyond in terms of survival - not only will you clean and dress it, you will ALSO disinfect it’ m.o.) and 55% personal to warner.
i... had some other train of thought that i have since forgotten, but i guess the conclusion of this one was ‘weird that the one thing i THINK is actually due to warner’s personhood more than the CPU’s need for survival is the one thing he put his foot down enough to continually affect me, there are so many ways to interpret the situation that there’s a 70% chance i wildly misinterpreted all of it and am so wrong it hurts’.
i just wanted to fukcjkng... get this on paper so i could figure out what i was even trying to figure out. absolutely not worth it
#50000 words brought to you by me going 'but why' through 60 layers of hell#sorry if this is all a bit much... on a certain topic...#i don't like talking about self harm because it's embarrassing and#idk i think it sets up for more concern than it's worth#but i couldnt really take note of all the above without going into some detail sorry
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the war is over ?? the day is Finally here ?? ( vine kid vc ) sup fuCKERS ! . im sahar, 20, est n’ i suck major ass tbh and i have nothin’ interesting to say abt myself except that i’ve eaten chocolate chip cookies three times in one week and i hope i choke one day , and i love everything about sad movies . !!! god now since this rp is open ill die for ur mfing characters, fuck me up with them plots . plz like this and come and plot w me , u won’t regrat plotting wit me cuz i’ll show u a good time boo boos . ps . i wrote this at 4 am so y’all better tell me smth nice about kennedy or im fucking done . ily all ..
shes a vegan. wont tell anyone bc she vv reserved . like if u asked how are u she will say smth like ‘ fuck ouuta here fucking fuckboi ‘ and like whenever u get her very pissed off she will say fuck in every single sentence . like ‘ yo dude what the fuck ?? what in the actual fuck are u fucking kidding fucking piece of shit oh my fucking gof fuck bitch” she’s not a bitch or anything she just … toO MUCH ! she also thinks of herself as superior . at times, she can even come across as sickly sweet or just kind in general . SHES incredibly wise and have good judgement when it comes to the people in their lives or the situation at hand. they may not necessarily be too book smart but it’s definitely balanced out by the extent of their street smart/wise. if she’s got an opinion, you can guarantee she’s going to voice it to the highest of volumes. it doesn’t matter whether you’ve known her for 10 years or are complete strangers on the street, she won’t hesitate to share her opinion on the matter. especially if she disagrees with yours. she’s assertive, awfully blunt and arrogant.
HERE ARE SOME VINES THAT I ASSOCIATE WITH KENNEDY : HERE . HERE. HERE ANDHERE
OK NOW OFF TO HER BIO !
her dad was a very quiet man who was soft and kind and just a goof and she was… the opposite. they got along great when she was a kid but as soon as her teenage years came she just turned into a rebellious ball of shit tbh. her dad could not handle her, even tho he tried his best. he wasn’t the yelling type at all and he’d try to make her realize she was a handful thru calm words but KENNEDY was just yolo. she wasn’t good in school. absolutely sucked at math and any science. didn’t kno the difference between geometry and algebra until 8th grade, thought she was doing the same shit. basically every science is the same. but !! she was v good in english class. like, that was her only good subject besides PE bc she was sporty as fuck and got way too intense about it also she was lowkey a bully but only bullied boys because she felt a strong need to make them suffer and she has a lot of good memories about it jhdjsdns
JHGDFGHSYCTG like deadass would beat guys up and be like cOME ON MY GRANDMA COULD FUCKNG TAKE U !!! she would make them m i s e r a b l e things were always kind of tense between kennedy and her mom they never really got along ??? her mom rlly resent kennedy for who she is even though kennedy really mfing tries to be a good person for her mom to accept who she is as a person.
things got a little better when kennedy was 6 and her little brother mikkel was born. except………things only got worse a few years later?? there was an accident where mikkel got hit by a car when kennedy was walking him home from school.obviously the entire family was grief-stricken. they just lost their 6 year old son. it was awful. kennedy’s mom blamed herself, kennedy blamed herself and her dad blamed kennedy too. they moved around a lot after their son, kennedy’s brother died,, to different states but never out of the us and it was like none of them could rly talk about it with each other either. her parents started to fight a lot and they each had different ways of dealing with their grief. her mom went out on some crisis and had a string of affairs , while her dad turned to alcohol and abuse to deal with his grief.
her dad left her mom, after the incident. her mom got rlly fucked up like she will go to parties and act like she was 18. kennedy lived with her mother who appeared to be involved in a few crimes . kennedy appeared to be more responsible than her mother at this point lmao . they got into a car accident under the influence of them celebrating her mother’s birthday. kennedy wasn’t the one driving, but she switched seats with her mother so she wouldn’t get in any more trouble which led to kennedy going to jail for a but bc she was underage .
the cops were like well shes has no one speical so lets leave her with her dad . her dad rlly couldn’t take care of kennedy because well .. he was a mess. he was always pass out on the couch with beer stains on his shirt and a pizza box on the floor. mia was basically an accident/surprise to her father. he had no desire whatsoever to have kids after her brother’s incident.
sometimes kennedy would come to school with bruises on her face. she remembers the snatches of convos between girls warning each other to steer clear of the leach, and wonder what they would say if she told them that everytime her father gets drunk she’s not sure being her father’s daughter will grant her immunity. She knew people could tell with one glance, one look, one simple instant. It was her eyes. Despite the thick makeup, they were still dark-rimmed., haunted, and sad. Most of all though, they were familiar. The fact that we were in front of hundreds of strangers changed nothing at all. She spent a summer with those same eyes-scared, lost, confused-staring back at herself. Anyone she was close with would have known them anywhere. she couldn’t sleep at night knowing that her parents will abuse her for anything that she will do. she spent countless of nights staying up, making sure that she wouldn’t have any slip ups in the morning when she woke up
she spent the rest of her senior year shut off from the world as she grieved not only her brother, but the girl she used to be. she’d always been expected to go on to university & do something that would make a hell of a lot of money, but as her classmates got busy filling out their college applications, she holed up in the school’s auto-shop, learning how to work on cars.a few months after graduation, her grandfather passed ( of natural causes, thank god ) & she received a hefty inheritance. her classmates and teachers, lmao, watched in horror as their precious gem of a daughter shelled out thousands of dollars to purchase her own garage, with plans to become a mechanic. she's not rich, but she does have her own money . gives her a opportunity to say ‘at least i got here all by myself and not with mommy’s or daddy’s money’ heh….
kennedy is somewhat emotionally stunted. her remaining friends from high school have all gone their separate ways & she hardly speaks to any of them. she’s dabbled in a romantic relationship here or there, but most of them have ended badly. basically? she’s a disaster.
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No Leg to Stand On (2/2)
Note: Oh my god, this took FOREVER to write. So much is packed into this aftermath focused part two. I wasn’t expecting everyone to be so upset about Beth not telling the truth, but here we are. Anyway, please note that this takes place four years in the future. Beth is now 20, Henry is 39, Harrison is 24, Wes is 22 , Neddy is 15 and Lucy is 14. Scary right? Anyway, there is A LOT of emotions in this. A LOT. Please do not kill me. Thanks @welllpthisishappening for being the coolest person alive and feeding me fluff as I wrote this.
Summary: At sixteen, Beth Jones is Killian’s pride and joy. She’s gorgeous, intelligent, clever, witty and possibly the most talented swordsman of her generation. She might also be pregnant
Rating: T
Word Count: 9,400+
Four years later...
Parents weren’t supposed to have favorites amongst their children. Killian Jones would vehemently deny he had a favorite out of his kids, but if he had to pick one, he would admit, privately and only to himself, that it would be his daughter. Killian loved his sons and he would fight anyone to said otherwise, but he and his daughter Beth had always had a close and special relationship. Daughters were a different sort of breed than sons were and his connection with Beth seemed to go deeper than the ones he had with Henry, Harrison, Wes and Neddy. Since the moment she had opened her eyes, Killian had felt nothing but an intense love and a fierce need to protect his daughter; to cradle her in his arms and never let her go.
There no denying that Beth had always been a “Daddy’s Girl.” When she was a child, she rarely left his side, often tugging on his pant leg and clutching his hook tightly - she always made a point to hold onto his hook and had done so since she was a toddler. She would snuggle into his side and listen with full attention as he regaled her with stories of his pirate days, often interrupting him with a question or a comment, but nonetheless always eager. For the first five years of her life, she walked around with a foam play sword and preened whenever they would call her the “Pirate Queen.” And that’s what she was to Killian, a little queen. His little queen.
Naturally, she became more aloof and independent in her teenaged years, but they maintained a close relationship. Until she turned nineteen and went off to have adventures of her own, Killian and his daughter would purposefully wake up just before dawn and would work on her swordplay in the backyard. She had a tenacity and talent with swords that none of her brothers had shown and Killian loved nothing more than those moments where they would spar and talk about everything and anything. It seemed like there was nothing they could talk about. There were no secrets between father and daughter.
Or so Killian thought.
His entire opinion on his relationship with Beth changed one night when he answered a call from the Rabbit Hole to intervene on drunk and disorderly conduct being committed by one Benjamin “Benny” Booth. None of this seemed out of the ordinary. Booth was an acknowledged alcoholic and known to be belligerent when he was too gone in his cups.
Killian did not like handling calls for drunk and disorderly conduct. They were often messy affairs that involved him hauling someone away in the back of his car where they would proceed to throw up over his leather upholstery. With the recent additions of his eldest son Harrison and his brother-in-law Neal to the law enforcement team, Killian normally left the night business, especially the drunks, to the boys. Harrison and Neal were both tall, healthy and able-bodied young men who were more than capable of handling violent and inebriated shenanigans.
However, that particular night Harrison had on a date with his longtime girlfriend Nasira and Neal had been sick when he and his wife received a call from the local bar and were asked to intervene. Emma was just as fond of those type of calls as Killian was, which led to them drawing straws on who would be the one to answer. Naturally Killian lost. He grumbled a bit in his defeat, but gave his wife an affectionate kiss before donning his leather coat and answering the call.
It was a call he wasn’t likely to forget.
“Deputy Jones,” Booth had acknowledged him with an exaggerated nod and a smirk as Killian had approached him. “An alcoholic after my own heart. Normally I’m a whiskey man but for you, I can stomach some rum.”
“No need to switch on my account,” Killian replied smoothly. “Actually, I would prefer it if you would consider turning in for the night. It’s getting late. I’m sure Marco and August are worried.”
“Are you trying to kick me out of here, Deputy?” Booth asked. “Because I’m not leaving this seat. This is my seat, you see. This is where I live.”
Booth’s eyes were glossy and he was wobbling a bit in his aforementioned seat. His speech was also a bit slurred and Killian would bet a pretty penny that he smelled like a distillery. Killian subtly placed his hand on his hip, not too far away from his cuffs. He didn’t want to hull the man out and he would give him every chance to go in peace, but Killian had a feeling Booth wasn’t going to out quietly.
“That’s quite evident,” Killian replied, tired and trying his best to be patient. “But it’s getting late. Nick is looking to close down soon, mate. He would appreciate it if you went home.”
“No. I’m not leaving! You want me to leave, you’re going to have to fight me!” Booth snapped back belligerently.
He banged his glass down hard on the table, causing the patrons around him to jump and eye him warily. Killian sighed. This was actually what he had wanted to avoid.
“Look, Benny, I don’t want to fight you. I don’t even want to cuff you. I would prefer it if we handled this like civilized men and we parted company without me hauling you down to the station for booking. I would much rather you go home to your family so I can go home to mine,” Killian replied, giving to keep his voice as gentle as he could.
“You’re not a fighter, huh, Deputy? You’re more of a fucker than a fighter,” Booth slurred, swaying in his seat like an angry cobra and glaring at Killian. “Like your daughter, huh? You would rather fuck than fight.”
Drunk cursing never really bothered Killian. He had heard more than his fair share of colorful insults over the centuries. Booth’s ravings were far from creative. However, the second Booth mentioned Beth, a spike of anger ran down his spine.
“Let’s leave my daughter out of this business, shall we?” Killian asked coldly.
“I fucked her, you know,” Booth smirked, leaning back in his seat before turning to the people around him. “I fucked his daughter. I fucked Beth Jones. Everyone thought she was an untouchable but I had her! I screwed the brains out of Storybrooke’s perfect little princess! And let me tell you, the things she could do with her legs? The girl belongs in porno. She was surprising a good time, you know, for being sixteen and all. And now, she’s fucking a fish.”
Killian had made a lot of progress over the years abstaining from giving into his more violent impulses when he was angry but the second Booth smirked and kept spewing nasty things about Beth, he saw red. He grabbed Booth by the front of his t-shirt, hook piercing the worn cotton. He glared down at the drunken man with murder in his eyes, wishing that that his hook was lodged in the man’s neck rather than his shirt. He wanted nothing more than to watch this pitiful excuse for a human being to choke on his own blood.
The entire bar went silent as Killian grabbed Booth, watching with wary but curious eyes. He had no doubt that someone in the crowd was texting his sons to let them know what was happening at the Rabbit Hole.
“It would be a wise decision if you stopped talking,” Killian said in a dangerously soft tone. “Just stop talking. Because if you say another word about her, I can’t promise you that you’re going to leave this bar tonight with your face intact.”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” Booth scoffed. “You’re a cop. Besides, after all, we were almost family.”
“What are you talking about?” Killian hissed.
Killian pulled Booth closer. His hook slipped further into his shirt until the fabric hit the top of Killian’s brace and the sharp tip was poking into Booth’s chin. The steel nicked Booth’s skin, blood trickling down the side of Killian’s hook.
Either Booth was so drunk that he didn’t feel the hook digging into his chin or he was just insane, but he laughed as Killian got in his face; arrogant and completely unafraid.
“Didn’t think I knew about the baby, did you? She told me she thought she was pregnant and I know you killed it. Couldn’t bear the thought that I put a bastard in that belly, huh? I’ve always wanted to know how you got rid of it. Did you take her to a clinic across the town line or do it the old fashion way with tea and tansy? You’re an old fashioned boy, aren’t you, Deputy? I’m betting it was the tea.”
Killian’s eyes bulged and he nearly yanked Booth off his seat in his rage. There were a few gasps that resounded around the room and Killian became very aware that the people around him had heard the ridiculous accusations that Booth had made.
“Do you know what I hate more than sloppy violent drunks, Booth? Shameless liars who try to tarnish the names of ladies,” Killian replied through gritted teeth. “I’ve told you twice now to stop bringing my daughter and lying about her. Mention her name again and I will make good on my threats.”
Booth laughed in Killian’s face again.
“Lady? Please! Your daughter is a wh-” Booth didn’t finish his sentence.
Killian’s fist connected with Booth’s jaw with a loud sickening crack. Booth sunk back in his seat, knocked cold by the combination of Killian’s hard swing and the massive amounts of alcohol in his system. Killian shook out his hand, hissing slightly at the throbbing in his knuckles. He detached his hook from Booth’s shirt, not caring as the unconscious man’s head slumped forward and smacked into the table. He pulled out his cuffs, roughly brought Booth’s hands behind the chair and restrained his arms.
The bartender Nick was an old friend of Killian’s. He had been working at the Rabbit Hole for as long as Killian could remember. He was a heavyset man with graying black hair and a lightly bearded face who shared Killian’s penchant for wearing black. Nick was a capable man and didn’t often call about the drunks who inhabited the Rabbit Hole, often preferring to take care of them by himself. However, like Killian, he was an aging man and had recently had a hip replacement surgery. Drunk wrangling wasn’t easy for him anymore.
Nick had a glass of rum waiting for him on the counter when Killian looked up.
“On the house, Captain,” Nick said with a sympathetic look.
Killian looked at the rum then looked back at Booth who was unconscious and probably would be for a few more moments. Feeling still a bit raw and petty, he kicked Booth’s foot unkindly before joining Nick at the bar with a weary expression.
“Thanks, mate,” he said, lifting the glass and taking a healthy sip. “I needed that.”
“It’s a pity that you didn’t get to hit him before he passed out on the table,” Nick said loudly, looking sternly at his patrons as if daring to them to contradict him.
Killian snorted.
“That’s not necessary,” Killian said. “He was so liquored up, I doubt he’ll remember it.”
“Hey, I don’t want you getting in trouble. I’ll lose my best customer then,” Nick replied. “Besides he was saying shit about your daughter. Beth’s a good girl. She doesn’t need those rumors flying around.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Killian responded, taking another generously gulp.
“Speaking of your daughter…How is Beth doing these days?” Nick asked casually.
“Well. She’s doing well. Grown up and off doing her own thing. Barely has time for her old man anymore,” Killian chuckled. “David is convinced she’s going to be settling soon since she’s been seeing Will for a year now. You’ve probably seen him around be around before. Ariel’s boy. Big tall ginger lad.”
“Ah, so the fish comment now makes sense. I didn’t quite get that,” Nick said with a nod. “A pirate’s daughter with a mermaid’s son. That’s quite the pair. Is he a good guy?”
“He’s a very nice kid,” Killian replied diplomatically. “Very respectful. Very polite. Just as charming as his mother. Asks a lot of questions like her too.”
Nick frowned as he listened to Killian’s words, cleaning down his side of the bar as he did so.
“Sounds decent enough. But you don’t seem to like him.”
“I don’t like anyone who dates my daughter. But I like Will as much as I could given the circumstances. He’s a thousand leagues better than Whiskey Dick over there,” Killian said, jabbing his thumb back in Booth’s direction. “But I can’t figure out what Beth likes about him. He’s too…safe. Too vanilla. She leads him around by the dick.”
“Maybe she likes that. If I recall your daughter as well as I think do, she’s always been on the bossy side,” Nick commented, taking Killian’s empty glass and pouring him another drink.
“That’s my little girl you’re talking about, mate.”
“Allow me to apologize. Your drink is on me again,” Nick replied lightly.
Nick pushed it across the bar until it stopped against Killian’s forearm. He took and raised it in thanks before bringing it to his lips. A comfortable silence fell between the two men.
“Killian, we’ve known each other for a long time…” Nick started, looking unsure for a moment.
“Since I pilfered your rum stock when I first arrived back with Cora. I remember it well,” Killian chuckled.
“Yeah. I’m never going to forget that, you old bastard, but please understand that I don’t mean to insult you or your family when I ask this, and you’re quite welcome to steal my rum stock again for this question, but is there’s any stock in what Booth said? I mean, he’s drunk out of his mind, but he seemed to believe what he was saying and you know what they say…drunk words, sober thoughts.”
Killian’s jaw worked. He wanted to berate his barkeep for asking the question and follow it up with a taste of his hook, but the truth was that Booth’s words had been marinating in the back of his head since he heard them. Beth had never mentioned Booth to him, and they had lengthy conversations about her paramours in the past without much issue. If there was once something between Booth and his daughter, he would like to think that she would have told him about it, especially if there was a pregnancy involved.
“No,” Killian said firmly. “He’s just a fuckhead. Beth would have told me if she was involved with him.”
Nick gave him a sad smile.
“You sure? Teenage girls tend to hide things like unsavory boyfriends…”
“Positive,” Killian replied with as much conviction as he could muster. “Beth has always been open with me about her relationships with her boyfriends and her girlfriends. Booth is full of shit.”
“Just checking,” Nick said before leaning down, grabbing an unopened bottle of rum and placing it down in front of Killian. “For your troubles, old friend. I wasn’t sure if he had struck a nerve or not aside from just being a complete shitbag. Needed to know if I was going to have to help you hide a body later.”
Killian and Nick didn’t discuss much after the exchange. Killian finished his glass, picked up the unopened bottle and placed it in the crook of his arm before not too gently dragging the still unconscious Booth into the back of his car. Killian stopped by the station and placed Booth in one of the holding cells. As he hauled Booth onto the metal bed, he looked down at him and studied his features.
Despite being an absolute piece of garbage in Killian’s mind, Booth was admittedly on the attractive side. He had lots of thick wavy hair and almost feminine looking eyelashes. His visage was one could be classified as conventionally handsome. He could see why women would like him even if he was an unsavory character while intoxicated.
Had his daughter fallen for this pretty face? Killian wanted to think that his daughter was capable of seeing the character that lay behind the mask. He had always taught her on how looks could be deceiving and had even advised her to use her own to her advantage if she was in a tough situation and if her life depended on it.
Booth had given a specific age. He had claimed to have slept with Beth when she was sixteen. The very thought sickened him. Beth had always been clever and a head more mature than her peers; always trying to act older than she was. Killian had always attributed it to the fact she had a tendency to hang around her older brothers and their friends. On top of that, as intelligent as she was, Beth had always been horribly impulsive, jumping into things before she had really assessed them; continuously brazen and bold. With as lively and beautiful as she was, Beth was definitely capable of catching anyone’s eye and with Booth being older than her, she would have thought of him as a challenge.
Furthermore, Killian had never made it a secret how he felt about Benny Booth. He had never been a fan, but then again, this wasn’t surprising, considering who his father was. Killian disliked August Booth with a passion of a thousand suns and didn’t necessarily like the looks August gave his wife. He was even less of a fan when August had arrived back in Storybrooke twenty years ago with a three-year old son and had all but dropped that son on his elderly father Macro. As much as he didn’t care to admit it, a lot of Killian’s dislike of Benny stemmed from his dislike of August. Beth had known this. Perhaps knowing his dislike for the Booths had made her reluctant to admit to her father that she was attracted to him.
The more Killian pondered, the less confident he felt.
Beth getting involved with Booth? It was a possibility, Killian begrudgingly admitted it. But Booth getting Beth pregnant? That was really the kicker. He really didn’t want to believe that Beth would keep something that major from him or that she was even capable of hiding something like that. She was clever, but not that clever. Killian had supported his wife through four different pregnancies. He would like to think he could spot the symptoms if he saw them again. He raked his memory, trying to find something that would imply that Beth, at some point, could have possibly have been pregnant but there was nothing.
The more Killian thought and the more he looked at Booth, the more he wanted to kill him for even putting these horrid thoughts in his head. He left the station as quickly as he could, trying to put as much distance between himself and Booth as he possibly could.
When Killian crawled into bed next to his wife that night, Emma immediately turned to face him and curled her arms around his torso. When she felt how tense he was, she frowned sleepily and looked at the pensive expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“Nothing,” he replied with a sigh.
She pressed her fingers into the stiff muscles of his shoulders. He winced slightly at the feeling.
“This does not feel like nothing,” she said.
“Benny Booth said something and I can’t get it out of my head,” Killian sighed.
“Well, what was it? If it’s bothering you this badly, it’s got to be something.” Emma shifted closer to him. Her fingers trailed down his clavicle and his arm until they brushed against his only hand. Her hand gently met his and she laced their fingers together, getting him gentle squeeze.
“According to Benny, he and Beth were a thing once upon a time…”
“A thing?”
“Well, he pointblank said he fucked her and claimed she had gotten pregnant,” Killian clarified, glaring up at the ceiling. “He accused me of aborting the child.”
Emma sat up and looked at him with a mixture of horror, shock and outrage. He sat as well, searching her face. It didn’t seem like his wife knew anything more about this absurd tale than he did. Killian had been certain that Emma would never keep something like this from him if he knew, but they did have a history of keeping things from one another if they thought it was too upsetting.
“That’s quite the story and quite an accusation,” Emma breathed. Her green eyes were still wide as she regarded him. “You don’t believe him, do you?”
“Every part of me wants to call him a lying sack of shit, but he seemed so certain. He was drunk as a skunk, but that’s nothing something you come up with when you’re too deep in your cups,” Killian sighed. “Well, one thing he’s wrong about is that I certainly didn’t make my daughter have an abortion. That is something I would never do. But did Beth and him ever have a thing? I’m not certain. She never spoken of him, but this keeps rubbing me raw.”
“I would hate to think that I was so oblivious that I didn’t notice that my baby was having a baby,” Emma remarked, running her hands through her hair. “But then again, I thought Neddy was menopause.”
They silently regarded each other for a moment, both of them tired but full of adrenaline. Emma was fiddling with the corner of their down comforter, biting her lip. Killian swallowed for a moment before reaching for his phone which he had left on his bedroom table. He thumbed in his passcode before scrolling through his contacts.
“You are seriously not calling our daughter at two in the morning!” Emma hissed, whacking his shoulder.
“No,” Killian sighed. “I’m calling Henry.”
“Why the hell are you calling Henry?!” Emma exclaimed. “He sure as hell isn’t going to be up! You really want to wake him and Jacinda up over this insanity!? No! Killian put it down!”
Killian paused in his task and looked up at Emma with an exasperated look.
“Look, I’m not going to get any sleep tonight until I get some answers. If anyone is going to know anything, it’s Henry. They always tell him everything. I bet you the Jolly that if Beth had any involvement with Booth, he would know. And he also is the only one out of the five who knows how to forge my signature. If she had a procedure done…well, no one would think twice if he claimed to be her father…He would have been able to give authorized consent. I need to know this, Swan,” Killian said in a near lecturing tone. “I need this. I need to know. And Henry owes us.”
“What do you mean he owe us? Killian, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about all the times in college he called us at two, three or four in the morning because he was drunk and needed something. Remember when he lost his keys during that absurd school festival of his and we had to get a locksmith to make a new car key? I’m cashing my payback in for that,” Killian replied.
“That was eighteen years ago, Killian,” Emma groaned while rubbing her temples.
“Perhaps. But I don’t care,” he said, not looking at her as he pressed his thumb on Henry’s name and placed the phone to his ear.
The line rang three times before Henry picked up.
“Hello?” His voice was muffled by sleep. There was a loud yawn that followed the greeting. It was obvious that the phone call had awoken him.
Killian didn’t care.
“I’m going to ask you questions and you’re going to answer them honestly yes or no,” Killian said tersely.
Emma groaned beside him and there was a long pause on the other end of the line. Killian was about to address him again when Henry spoke up.
“…May I ask why I’m facing the Inquisition?” Henry asked with another yawn.
“Because someone said something to me tonight and I need answers. And if anyone knows the truth of the situation, it’s you,” Killian replied.
“They really must have said something if you’re calling me at two in the morning on a Friday? Saturday? Fuck, I don’t even know. All I know is that it’s too early for this…Why would I know the truth about anything?”
“Because WWHD,” Killian said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his ear.
Emma was looking at him in confusion. Upon seeing her expression, Killian made a sigh and he nudged her arm to the side with his injured arm, tapping the inner side of her wrist with his blunted one. Her eyes went wide when she realized what he was referring to.
When Beth turned eighteen, she and the boys had the brilliant idea of getting matching tattoos. Killian couldn’t necessarily judge. He had more inked skin than not, but they hadn’t necessarily told their parents about this plan before they had done it. The day after they had celebrated together, they had come home with bandages on their wrists. Harrison, Wes and Beth all had gotten the words ‘WWHD’ tattooed on them. When Emma had asked what that meant, Harrison who replied that it stood for a question they all asked quite often when they were in trouble.
“WWHD? What are you talking about, Killian?” Henry asked, sounding now more confused than sleepy.
“WWHD. What. Would. Henry. Do,” Killian responded, emphasizing each word. “Your brothers and sister admire you more than anyone else. If they told anyone anything, it would be you. Don’t deny it. I know you’ve bailed them all out once or twice. I’m not angry with you about that. That’s just being a good brother, but this…I need to know.”
“Okay, okay, easy Killian. I’ll talk. Okay? Death Star plans? Marauders maps? The one ring to rule them all? It’s all yours. Just ask.”
It always amazed him just much Henry could sound like Emma at times. And this was definitely one of those times. The pure exasperation in his voice was definitely something he got from his mother.
Killian licked his chapped hips for a moment and looked his wife in the eye. She gave him a firm nod. He kept her gaze as he asked his question.
“Was Beth ever involved with Benny Booth?”
Over the phone, Killian could hear Henry suck on his teeth when he heard the question. Killian closed his eyes. There was silence and Killian knew the answer before Henry even spoke. He wanted to throw something, preferably his phone but he wanted, no, he needed Henry to answer the question.
“Yes,” Henry said reluctantly.
Killian tossed his phone down on the bed with a frustrated noise crawling up the back his throat. He picked it up again and put the phone on ‘speaker mode’ so that Emma could hear the conversation. Emma seemed to realize the answer that Killian had received because she paled visibly.
“You’re on speaker. Your mother is awake and listening,” Killian informed his stepson. “Now, you’re going to tell us everything you know.”
“Well, this is certainly a wakeup call. Look, give me a second and we’ll talk. I really don’t want to wake my wife. I think you both can understand and sympathize with that,” Henry said and there was a snappish hint to his tone.
Killian rolled his eyes and Emma leaned forward to give him a smack on the shoulder. If Killian wasn’t so anxious over the situation at hand, he would have offered his wife a smirk, a wink and a tumble in the sheets, but all joy seemed to be sucked out of him at that moment.
There was rustling on Henry’s end following by a soft clicking down, which Killian could only assume was a door.
“Okay, I’m back, High Inquisitor. You may begin your interrogation,” Henry said with a sigh,
“I would tell you’re hilarious, but I’m afraid I’m not in a charitable mood,” Killian replied with a small scowl. “I need you to tell me everything you know about Benny Booth and Beth. In as much detail as you possibly can provide, lad.”
“To be honest with you, I don’t have that many details, Killian,” Henry sighed. “I don’t know when they got together or how they got together or how long they were a thing. Beth was pretty scant on the details when she told me. She just thought she was in a bad place and that they had broken up and that she needed my help. I know that they ended on horrible terms and they haven’t spoken to each other since…I do know that Benny was as big of a douche-canoe as you can imagine and wrote some pretty shitty stuff about her in the bathroom at Flavors. It really hurt her, but I think Wes and Harrison took care of that.”
“That’s why Harrison threw Benny Booth over the Hermans’ fence that summer,” Emma gasped, eyes wide. “He never said why he did. Just fixed the fence without complaint.”
Killian recalled the incident in question vividly. Nothing had shocked him more than getting a phone call from Sean Herman about how his eldest son had lifted up Benny Booth and had nearly tossed him over the white picket fence that outlined their property. Harrison hadn’t been able to completely fulfill his human toss as Booth’s ass hadn’t cleared the top of the posts and therefore had broken that section of the fence. No matter how much Killian and Emma had grilled him, Harrison had never given an explanation for assaulting the young man. He had just quietly accepted his punishment without compliant.
His sons had known about the relationship and what it had done to their sister. They had never told him anything about it. A strange mixture of guilt and rage churned in Killian’s gut.
“Henry, I need you to answer me honestly now, lad,” Killian said after he fully digested the information. “Did Beth ever mention anything about being pregnant?”
Henry was quiet for long a time. As the silence stretched, Killian and Emma shared another anxious look. This was not a good sign.
“Beth was never actually pregnant,” Henry said cautiously. Killian and Emma both breathed sighs of relief. A weight lifted itself from Killian’s shoulder and he felt much lighter than he had since Booth had thrown the accusations around. “She thought she might be and she called me. I got her a test and it came out negative. And that was the end of it.”
“Henry, why didn’t you say anything?” Emma said, taking Killian’s hand and squeezing it.
“Because it wasn’t mine to tell. Look, I wanted her to tell you. I told her to tell you, but she didn’t.”
“That’s not her call,” Killian said sharply. “She was a little kid. She doesn’t get to make that decision. Henry, you were the adult. You should have told us.”
Emma sucked in a breath at the anger that was building up in Killian’s tone. She gave him a warning look that he didn’t give much mind to because he was more than aware that if he did then they would get into a nasty fight.
“I was between a rock and a hard place, Killian. I wanted you to know, but she didn’t want you to. She begged me not to tell you about it. Numerous times. I didn’t approve of her keeping it from you, but I didn’t want to lose her trust. I was thinking in the long term. If I had told you, she would have stopped telling me things and I thought you would rather have an adult who she could turn to in a time of need instead of going at all alone,” Henry said defensively.
“All I’m hearing is a bunch of weak excuses as to why I wasn’t notified that my daughter had a crisis and was harassed,” Killian responded, almost spitting his words in his fury. “The key wording here is that she’s MY daughter, Henry. Mine. I know it gets a little confusing sometimes with the age differences, but she’s not your child. How would you feel if Lucy had a crisis like this and I kept it from you? Because I’m fairly certain you would punch me in the face if I kept it from you for four years. Four fucking years.”
“There is no need to bring Lucy into this just because you’re pissed off with me,” Henry snapped.
“Apologies, I meant no disrespect to her, she is my granddaughter after all, but I need you to understand this from a father’s prospective, not a brother’s. This isn’t just hiding Wes when he’s too hungover or buying a new couch because Harrison broke the old one and he didn’t want us to know. This…this is bigger than that. This…I’m not sure I can forgive this,” Killian replied.
There a long silence that followed. Emma was pale and staring at him in disbelief. Killian was still feeling raw; emotions that he hadn’t felt in a long time were quelling inside of him. He felt like he was on the verge of exploding.
“You know what, Killian? You can be mad at me. You don’t have to forgive me. You’re entitled to whatever. But it’s three in the morning and I really am not in the mood to be berated and yelled at like I’m seventeen again for something that happened four years ago. So, I’m going to hang up before this goes any further. Goodnight.”
When the call ended, Killian picked up his phone and threw it against the wall. It made contact with a loud thud before falling. It bounced three times before laying defeated on the rug. Killian leaned back against the pillows, placing his forearm over his eyes and letting out an angry sigh. He wanted yell, fight, destroy something and cry at all the same time.
“Did that make you feel better?” Emma asked after a moment.
“No,” Killian said hollowly.
“If you shattered your screen again, I’m going to have to kill you. Those things are horrible to replace,” Emma signed.
Killian lifted his arm and look at her with an expression that couldn’t decide if it was perplexed or annoyed. Emma, who had long since learned that her husband was a bit more open with his emotions than she was, took his hand back in hers and gave him a small squeeze.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Killian,” she sighed. “All I can say is thank god she wasn’t pregnant. And fighting with Henry isn’t going to change anything.”
Killian didn’t reply, mainly because he knew she was right. There was absolutely nothing he could do about the situation now, except possibly beat Booth bloody, kill him and then take Nick up on his offer to help hide the body. He couldn’t do that though. His wife would kill him.
The real heart of the issue lay in the betrayal. He was used to the boys keeping things from him. In fact, he had come to expect that from them but Beth? Killian had been certain that nothing could have come between them. They had a relationship that he had been led to believe was based upon openness and honesty. She kept this from him. And apparently all of his children had been in on it. Henry had gotten the test and kept it a secret. Harrison had assaulted the bastard and hadn’t said anything. Idly Killian wondered how Wes had reacted to the news and what his retaliation had been. The sadistic part of Killian hoped it was clever, painful and humiliating.
“Goddamn it, Elizabeth,” Killian muttered under his breath. His heart felt heavy.
“Well, lucky for me, Beth and Will are stopping by tomorrow,” Emma said lightly. “You won’t be a brooding and sulking mess for long, and the screaming match won’t be delayed. It will be nice to have this all out in the air. Just promise me you won’t do it on the front lawn. The neighbors talk about us enough as is.”
“Very funny, Swan,” Killian grumbled before turning to look at her.
He looked his wife in the eye and tried to convey all the emotion that he was feeling that he couldn’t bring himself to express through words; the anger, the betrayal, the fear and, most of all the pain. Physically, Kilian’s back ached, his knuckles were bruised and his knees weren’t what they used to be. But emotionally? He felt as if he had been skinned and covered in salt.
Emma sighed, understanding what he couldn’t say and bringing his hand up to her lips and giving it a kiss. As her mouth brushed against his discolored knuckles, he was reminded of all the times he had done the same action to comfort her.
“She didn’t tell me, Emma. She kept this from me.” The fact kept repeating in the back of his mind like a broken record.
“Of course, she didn’t, Killian. She was a teenager. And that’s such a typical dirtbag teenage thing to do. I can understand you’re hurt, but I’m not surprised,” Emma said, giving him a sad smile.
“We were always so close. I thought she told me everything. She came to me when she got her period. She came to me when she got kissed for the first time. She told me about every single fight she had with her girlfriend or boyfriend at the time. She admitted to me when she got that tattoo underage…” Killian trailed off.
“Maybe that was the problem,” Emma said quietly. ���Maybe you were too close…”
“What do you mean?”
Emma was quiet for a while. Killian pulled at their hands, not disconnecting their fingers, but moving them so that their hands over his heart. He waited patiently, allowing her to gather her thoughts.
“I was jealous, you know? Of you and Beth. You two were always as thick as thieves. She looked at you like you were both the sun and the moon. She always followed you around, always went to you, always wanted to be you. Everything was Dad! Dad! Dad! She looked at you like a god. She never saw me that way even though I carried that child for the longest nine months of my life,” Emma said with a harsh swallow.
Killian couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something but words were failing him.
“I made my peace with it because it was something that was just so pure…I just didn’t want to ruin it or see it ruined…Anyway, that is not the point,” Emma paused for a moment, gathering her bearings. “The point is I’m certain that to this day that there is no one Beth loves more than you Killian, but with that worship…there is a certain need to be perfect, to be worthy of the person you hold so dear. As someone who has lived through a teenage pregnancy, there is a lot of shame to it. Tattoos, drinking, dating, violence, sex. Those are things that be spun as something cool, something to be admired. There’s nothing admirable about being pregnant as a teenager. How do you tell someone you love so much, someone you admire, someone who is your god, that you are in a situation that is surrounded with so much shame?”
“I didn’t want to be her god,” Killian whispered. “I just wanted to be her father.”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s just how it was. You wanted to an explanation of why she didn’t tell and I’m telling you why. She didn’t want to lessen yourself in your eyes. Henry? She loves him, but he’s not you. His disapproval is nothing to compared to yours. That is why she didn’t tell you and she told him, Killian.”
Killian didn’t sleep well that night. The secrets that Henry had unveiled and Emma’s comments kept swimming in his head and they wouldn’t let him go. He spent the majority of the night staring at the ceiling and wondering what else his daughter had kept from him.
Despite the pain, the anger and the disappointment, Killian found it in himself to smile when his daughter and her boyfriend arrived the next morning. Beth, who had spent the last month in the Enchanted Forrest with Will and his parents, looked happy, healthy and incredibly tanned. As a child, Beth had Emma’s lily white complexion, but now she looked just as swarthy as Killian had in his pirate days. It made both her green eyes and the freckles on her face look more pronounced. Her hair now was longer than Emma’s had ever been, but still wild with small braids running through it. She looked more pirate than princess, wearing leather breeches, a silken maroon blouse and a dark corset. It amazed him how as Beth got older, Killian started notice more resemblances that his daughter had with him than his wife.
“Dad!” Beth cried, letting go of Will’s hand and sprinting towards her father.
Killian stepped forward and pulled her into a fierce hug, closing his eyes and he held her close. She smelled like the sea, and a part of him jolted at the scent; there was a small part of him that still longed to be out on the ocean, free from everything.
“Welcome home, Minnow,” Killian murmured against her hair.
“I missed you.” Beth snuggled herself against him, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck as she had since she was a little girl.
“I missed you more,” he replied and it was the truth. No matter what she had done and how much it had hurt him, he still loved her fiercely and ached when she went away. It was hard at times to swallow, but his daughter was nearly grown and out of the nest.
As they pulled a part, Will approached him and held out his hand for Killian to shake.
“Hello Mr. Jones. A pleasure to see you again. It’s been too long. Perhaps next time, you will join us at my parent’s castle. My mother misses you terribly,” Will greeted with a broad grin.
Killian’s first impression of Will was that he smiled too much, but then again, that had been the same thought he had about Will’s mother Ariel when he first met her. Despite the grim circumstances and less than savory outcome of their first meeting, Killian had found Ariel to be determined, unfailingly optimistic and full of energy. Will was the same way. He greatly resembled his mother with his fiery red hair, kind eyes and wide smile. The only thing he seemed to have gotten from his father was his stature and ability to be perfectly content with being driven about by a strong woman.
“No need to call me Mr. Jones, Will,” Killian said good-naturedly. “You can call me Killian. Or even Hook would be more preferred.”
"No can do, sir,” Will said the name like he was testing it on his tongue. “I mean I've always known you as Hook, but my mother taught me better than that. She always loved to tell us about the pirate who fell in love with a princess and would do anything to get back to her, but she would slap me across the face if I called you by your first name. It's just not respectful.”
Killian wouldn’t help the faint blush that rose to his cheeks and Beth laughed.
“I didn’t realize she shared those stories,” Killian muttered as Beth pulled him into a side hug.
“Oh yes. She loves to tell us that any fish-head could be a prince as long as he had someone to love,” Will responded with an amused smile.
Beth laughed even harder and Killian just chuckled.
“Well, Ariel isn’t wrong. Luckily this fish-head got his lady or this marvelous creature wouldn’t be here today,” Killian replied, placing a quick kiss on top of his daughter’s head. “Though, Will, I must apologize though, because I am hoping to steal your lady tonight. You see, my favorite daughter has been gone for a month and we need to have a drink together, pirate to pirate. I hope you’re willing to forgive me.”
“I’m your only daughter,” Beth said with some amusement.
“That just makes you my favorite,” Killian chuckled.
“There’s nothing to forgive. Though I wouldn’t call her mine. She’s her own person, wild and powerful as the sea and no one, not even myself, could give own such a thing. If Beth wants to have a night with her father, she’s more than welcome to have it,” Will replied, taking Beth’s free hand and giving it a kiss.
Beth grinned at Will, affection clear in her eyes.
“You’re sweet and very cheesy,” she said, leaning upwards to give Will a quick kiss.
“I’m yours,” he responded with a fond smile.
Killian desperately hoped this wasn’t what he and his wife looked like when they were making eyes at each other. It was almost too saccharine for him to handle.
The sweet words, constant touching and cuddling continued throughout the entire day. It was almost disturbing to Killian to see his daughter so in sync with another person aside from himself. Will seemed to know whenever Beth wanted something and got it for her without complaints while Beth seemed to sense whenever Will was getting uncomfortable with a subject and would change the direction of the conversation. It made Killian uncomfortable.
And it was only going to get more uncomfortable, Killian knew. He was going to have to confront his daughter when they went for drinks. He just couldn’t keep what he had learned to himself. He needed to her to look him in the eyes and tell him everything.
When the moment came and they arrived at the Rabbit Hole for their drink, Killian made sure to place him and Beth at the furthest end of the bar where no one would over hear them or bother them. Killian met Nick’s eye as they sat down and held up two fingers at him.
“You’re actually allowing me to drink? Nick is actually going to serve me?” Beth asked with a raise of her eyebrow.
“I fail to see why not. You’ve been drinking since you were fifteen. Don’t think I don’t know about that because I do. You’re twenty and the only person who could arrest him for serving someone underage is me,” Killian responded with a shrug.
Nick approached, placing two glasses of rum in front of them.
“Hey Beth, you’re looking tan,” Nick greeted. “I almost didn’t recognize you and thought to myself ‘Who is the poor gorgeous woman with Killian Jones? Is she brain damaged?’”
Killian rolled his eyes, snorting as he picked up his drink.
“Well, you get tan when you spend in an entire month in the Enchanted Forrest and occupy most of the day by being in the water,” Beth laughed.
“Your father says your boyfriend is a merman,” Nick stated with a small grin.
“Did he now?” Beth asked, circling the rim of her glass with her pointer finger. “What else did he say?”
“That he’s not good enough for you,” Nick replied with a shrug.
“The first one is true. Occasionally my boyfriend has fins instead of feet, but he’s more than good enough. Trust me on that,” Beth said, taking a large sip of her rum.
“I’ll take your word for it. Dads tend not to be reliable on that sort of thing. They think no one is good enough for their girls,” Nick chuckled.
“Don’t you have other customers, Nick?” Killian asked archly.
“I do and I also know when I’m being dismissed,” Nick replied smoothly. “I’ll let you have your drinks. Beth, if he gives you any trouble, just give me a shout you hear?”
Nick gave Killian a mocking low bow before turning to serve a gaggle of young women who were sitting at the other end of the bar. Beth shook her hair, smirking a bit.
“Some things never change,” she commented.
“Eh, some things do. Mainly in ways you never expect,” Killian responded rather cryptically.
Beth bit her lip for a moment, looking down at her glass but looking up at her father with a small smile.
“I’m glad we’re doing this. I missed you terribly. Ariel and Eric have a beautiful kingdom, but it’s nothing compared to home. And there was no swordsman I couldn’t beat. No one was as good as me” Beth said, voice filled with pride.
“Ah, well, not many men are taught from age six and have two master swordsmen as teachers. Nor does anyone practice as much as you do. I still get up early and have a jaunt and work on my strikes in the backyard, but it’s not the same without you too….” Killian said with a sad smile. “You and I, we’ve always been close.”
“Yeah, we have,” Beth grinned. “I love that about us.”
And that was a moment that Killian knew that he couldn’t keep what he knew and how he felt to himself. This was the opening. He finished his rum before he spoke.
“Yeah, but you don’t love it enough to tell me about what happened with Booth and that pregnancy scare of yours.”
Beth stiffened, as if someone had casted a freezing spell on her. The only movement was the widening of her eyes. She didn’t move for a good few minutes, but when she did it was to open her mouth. She looked like she was trying to say words but she was put on mute. She swallowed for a moment before finally finding her voice.
“You know?”
“I know,” Killian said before taking her glass of rum and downing it himself. If there was ever a conservation that needed a drink, it was this one.
Beth was still stunned. She didn’t even react to him stealing her glass.
“Did Henry tell you?” She asked in a hushed voice.
“No. Not at first. You should have told Booth you weren’t ever pregnant though, so he didn’t shout out about your dalliance and accuse me of making you get an abortion in front of an entire bar,” Killian replied, vaguely surprised that he was about to keep his tone even.
Beth buried her head in her hands on the bar.
“Shit.” Her voice was slightly muffed by her arms, but Killian could still hear the curse.
“Shit is definitely word for it,” Killian remarked. “There are lot of other words I would use, but we’re kinda in public and I don’t think everyone would appreciate that much salty language.”
“Shit,” Beth repeated, not looking up from her hands.
“Is that all you’re going to say, Elizabeth?”
“What would you like for me to say, Dad?” Beth looking up from her hands. Her face was pale, as if the tan she had gained over the last month had been drained for her face.
“Well, you could start with the fuck you thought you were doing? Why you never said anything? It’s been four years, Elizabeth, four years and you’ve never breathed a word of it to me. Never. I’m more than just your swordplay instructor, I’m your father. You’re supposed to tell me when these happen!” Killian stated, his voice rising with every word.
He slammed his fist down on the bar, causing his daughter to flinch.
“Dad…I…I thought I could handle it,” she whispered
“You were not supposed to be handling it. You were a child. You had no business being around Booth and you certainly had no business thinking you handle that situation alone. I thought we were better than this, Elizabeth. I never thought this would ever happen with you. I thought you smarter than that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said and there were tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to hate me…”
“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you,” Killian respond, taking one of her hands and squeezing it hard. “Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I angry? Without a doubt. Am I hurt that my only daughter trust me enough to love her and support her when she needs it? That’s one I feel most of all. I failed you as a father. It’s my job to protect and raise you and to teach you how to manage in this world, and I failed you.”
He had finally given a voice to the emotion that he didn’t want to name. Failure. He had failed her. If he had spent more time being a father rather than an idol to follow, then this situation wouldn’t have happened. She would have told him about Booth and maybe he could have prevented this entire saga from happening.
Beth shook her head violently.
“You didn’t fail me. You didn’t fail me at all. You were the best. You are the best. I fucked up,” Beth said, her voice cracking. Tears were dribbling in earnest down her cheeks.
When Beth was a child, she rarely cried. She screamed to the high heavens and tore things apart like the little human hurricane she was, but rarely did tears come to her eyes. In fact, Killian could count only sixteen instances in her twenty years of life where she had burst into water works. He hated it. There was nothing Killian hated more than the sight of his daughter sobbing. He cupped her face and wiped her tears away with his thumb, brushing gently against the apple of her cheek.
“You’re supposed to fuck up,” Killian said with a sigh. “That’s practically your job as child. You’re supposed to fuck up, but you’re supposed to trust me to teach you and help you fix your fuck up. You don’t trust me enough and for that I’m sorry.”
“But I do trust you…” Beth whispered. “Daddy, I trust you so much.”
“But not enough to let me help you with something like that…”
“How do I fix this?” she asked, almost desperately.
“I’m going to tell you something your mother once told me. Elizabeth, you come to me. I don’t care what it is whether you’re pregnant with a fishstick, murdered someone or whatever. You come to me. And you lean on me. And trust me to be able to help you. We can’t hide things from each other, love. I hoped the daughter that I raised would know that, but apparently you don’t, and that’s my fault. But whatever it is, no matter what, I will help you out because I’m your father and that isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for you.”
“I can do that. I can do that, I promise,” Beth said with a brittle smile.
“I want to believe that. I really do,” Killian replied, giving her a fragile grin of his own.
Father and daughter regarded each other for a while as if they were both taking their time to examine the fractures of their relationship. Beth took his hand away from her face and held it in her own. She didn’t lace their fingers together like she normally did.
“Where do we go from here…?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Well, things are going to take time. That’s just the nature of it, love. But for now, I guess we can talk about how everything is between you and Will, and you can give me heart palpitations when you tell me how much you want to marry him?” Killian said with a sigh.
“I wouldn’t mind marrying him,” she said with a shaky laugh.
“So, it’s that serious?” Killian frowned.
“Dad, I’ve been with Will for year. Of course it’s serious, but I’m not planning on wearing white anytime soon. If he asked I wouldn’t say no,” Beth said with a shrug.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Killian said, filing this information for later. He couldn’t deal with anymore heavy emotions at the moment. “Good to know. It’s just funny. I always joked that you would end up with a pirate, but I think I can handle grandchildren with fins.”
“Don’t think I turn Will into a pirate?” she teased and her smile almost convinced him that she had recovered from their conversation. Almost.
“Elizabeth, you can do anything you set your mind to.”
#captain swan#cs ff#cs fic#cs fanfic#dad!killian#little pirates fic#little pirates#beth jones#no leg to stand on#introducing will seaborn#and benny#but fuck benny
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booksbeyondimagining
Books Beyond Imagining
waterwarriorshipping
They're Lesbians Harold
septiseph
Shi's art space
brockitty-goober
yeah maybe id listen if this hypersexuality went tf away
ratspaguetti
Professional Crayon Eater