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babyboibucky · 3 years

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Promises, promises

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You believed that promises are meant to be broken but Bucky always proved you wrong. Until one day, he proved you right.

Word Count: 6,555 (oops I got carried away lol)

Warnings: Angst, a tiny bit of self-doubt but with a happy ending!!!

A/N: Some tags aren’t working, damn u tumblr! Anyway enjoy the angst and the shitty writing lmfao. Also kinda want to do ficlets for these two??? Like short fics about the happenings in their relationship, their first date, how they dealt with the break up idk, lemme know if anyone’s interested in that xoxo

MAIN MASTERLIST

It's been four and a half years since Bucky broke up with you and honestly, you're fine now. Fine, as in you've moved on from him and that you haven't been stalking his Instagram account anymore or have been asking Steve how he's doing since the break up. You're fine now, really.

There was not an ounce of denial left in your body after almost two years of pining and self-blame. But that doesn't mean you've forgotten the pain he caused you when he woke up one day and realized that he didn't need you anymore.

Forgive and forget they often told you and you badly wanted to do so. But it wasn't that easy to do, not when you still feel the pain as if it only happened yesterday.

"What did you say?" your forehead creased as you walked around the kitchen counter, quickly approaching Bucky who had his back to you as he stood in the living room of your shared apartment.

You weren't sure if you heard him right, or if he actually said anything. Perhaps you were just hearing things? Just this morning he woke up and greeted you with his charming smile before pressing a soft peck on your lips. You had cooked breakfast together, laughed together and even talked about what to have for dinner.

Sure, something about his demeanor earlier was a bit off, but you assumed it had something to do about his work and not because he wanted to break up with you.

Right?

"Bucky, what did you say?" you pressed when Bucky remained quiet; he didn't even turn around to face you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, "I said I need space." he murmured.

"What do you mean, Buck?" you asked again, voice small and shaky as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

Of course you knew what exactly Bucky meant by that, but you didn't want to believe it. You were hopeful that maybe this was one of those petty fights you used to have, one where Bucky would spend the night over at Steve's. He'll come around the next day, he always does that. You always woke up to him whispering apologies to your ear and you would say your sorry too.

Bucky rubbed his face with his hand before finally turning to you, "I can't do this anymore." he said, shaking his head before averting his gaze to the floor.

He must have seen the look in your eyes when he faced you. As much as you believed that you were pretty good at hiding your emotions, it never worked on Bucky. He was the only person who could always read you; you could never hide from him.

"Bucky, I don't understand." you let out a nervous chuckle as you hugged yourself, biting your lower lip to prevent them from quivering as you held back the urge to cry.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, "I just...you've been too...fuck, I don't know how to say this without hurting you. I really don't want to." he admitted dejectedly, looking up at you.

You scoffed, "Just fucking say it, Bucky. I'm already hurt just by having this conversation." you told him.

"You're too good for me. Way too good."

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind again as you laid your eyes on him, four and a half years after your break-up. And just like that, you were back to square one.

You did your best to avoid him after he left, you felt like Bucky too tried to do the same. It was harder than you thought, given that you belonged to the same circle of friends. There were missed birthday parties, anniversaries and get togethers. If you knew Bucky was going to be there, you’d bail. Thank god you had a bunch of understanding friends who never took your absences against you.

But an engagement party between two of your friends? Now that was something you wouldn’t want to miss out on.

You’ve been really happy for quite a while now, to the point that it never crossed your mind that Bucky would surely be attending as well. He had been out of your system since the day you decided to move past him, which is why you thought that you were finally a-okay.

Tonight proved you wrong because as you watched Bucky smile and greet your friends, you realized that you still wanted to punch him and hurt him and tell him that you were still in lo—

“Hi.”

You were too focused on daydreaming about how you wanted to hurt Bucky that you failed to notice that he made his way to you and was now waiting for you to greet him back.

Bucky was smiling at you the same way he did on the night you first met at a college house party. You and Bucky have been together for that long.

“Hi.”

The music was too loud that you missed out on the stranger’s greeting, if not for his shadow looming over your hunched figure as you sat on the staircase, you would’ve completely ignored him.

The guy was looking down at you with a charming smile that made your cheeks turn pink. He was tall and slightly muscular, something you noticed right off the bat all thanks to the tight red henley he was sporting. The guy had long hair too, but it was tied back into a low man bun that was messy enough to leave tendrils of stray hair to frame his handsome face.

“Hi.” He repeated with a chuckle, a hint of amusement laced in his tone as he bit his lip at the sight of you just staring up at him.

“Hi?” You stammered awkwardly.

He laughed, “Um, can I pass through or is there some sort of password required?”

You realized that you had been blocking his way, everyone’s way actually. Quickly, you apologized and stood up to leave your spot only for the guy to block your way before you could even hop off of the last step of the staircase.

Thinking that you must have confused him and the direction you intended to go, you murmured a soft apology again before sidestepping him but to no avail. You looked up at him with a frown when you noticed that he was intentionally blocking your way.

It didn’t help that he was way taller than you. Despite the one being on the last step of the staircase, the guy still loomed over you.

“Excuse me?” You snapped and tried to move past him but he was way bigger than you and managed to stop you from passing through.

He had a cheeky smile on as he watched your futile attempt to squeeze your way out of his large body. You huffed out when he held onto the rail while his other hand on the wall, completely trapping you on the staircase.

“What’s the password?” He asked, still grinning at you.

You deadpanned, “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head, “Nope.”

You stared at him blankly before glancing at his hands, observing whether you had a chance at prying them away from where they held on. It was then that you noticed how his left hand was covered in tattoos. The sleeve of his henley rode up quite a bit to reveal that his tattoos reached his wrist, he probably had his entire left arm sleeved with ink.

“Can I please pass?” You huffed out when you concluded that there was no way you would be able to escape him.

“Like I said, I need a password.” He insisted.

“Penis.” You stated, face free from any sort of expression.

The guy choked on his laughter, “Why would you honestly think that?” He asked incredulously.

You shrugged, “I thought you guys liked dick jokes.” You reasoned out.

The guy laughed as he shook his head, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“It’s not the password?” You asked. “Don’t I get a hint or something, I really don’t have time for games right now. I have to go back to my dorm. I have a test tomorrow.” You told the guy.

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about a test. What’s your major anyway?” He asked.

You groaned, “Like I said, I don’t have time for games or even for a conversation. Come on, just let me pass through!”

The guy hummed as he stared at you, as if he was thinking of something. You wanted to look away but he had beautiful ocean blue eyes that you found yourself slowly getting lost in.

“I’ll give you hints.” He announced. “Two hints actually, because I’m feeling generous.”

“Okay, then. Just spit it out!” You rushed.

The guy grinned.

“The password is made up of your name followed by your number.”

“Hi.”

You blinked when Bucky repeated his greeting. When you regained your senses, you cleared your throat and simply nodded at him as acknowledgment. You saw how Bucky’s smile faltered seconds before you looked away and pretended to look for someone.

“I can’t believe you just brushed me off.” He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.

Bucky had cut off his hair right after graduation. He sported a clean cut since then but now he had longer locks; not as long as his college hair though. It just looked fluffier, you fought the urge to imagine how it’d feel through your fingers.

“I can’t believe you just expected me to greet you as if nothing happened.” You told him, letting your eyes wander around the place.

Bucky exhaled heavily and shook his head, “I thought we’d be okay by now.” He admitted. “Guess I was wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, snapping your head into his direction after avoiding his gaze earlier. “I am okay, but that doesn’t mean I am okay with being around you.” You hissed.

“I honestly thought we’d still be friends, you know. Civil at least.”

What has gotten into Bucky’s mind for him to expect a lovely reunion between the both of you? Things didn’t end well, he just left. He was too ambitious to even think that you’d greet him with rainbows and butterflies.

“We’re not friends, Bucky. Not even acquaintances.” You told him.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something until someone tapped on the mic, announcing that the newly engaged couple, Wanda and Vis, had something to say to their guests. By the time he looked back at you, you had already walked away and joined Nat at their table.

It reminded Bucky of the days when he used to watch your back retreat into your dorm whenever he walked you home.

“So, you gonna tell me the password or what?”

You felt all your blood rush to your head and you’ve never been thankful for existence of strobe lights. You were probably red as a tomato. Who wouldn’t be anyway? This handsome dude just asked for your name and number!

“Is this a joke?” You managed to asked and thanked the heavens that you didn’t stutter.

The guy shook his head, “I don’t really joke around.” He shrugged.

“Why do you even want to know my name and number?” you curiously asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Been watching you since you arrived.”

“Creeper.” you accused.

“Hard not to when you’re the only grumpy person in a party. I know your friends dragged you here, I mean you said you have a test tomorrow and you don’t seem the type to party a day before. Besides, you’ve been keeping to yourself the entire time. Figured you might want some company, one with substance.” he boastfully wiggled his eyebrows at you.

His confidence appalled you but you were also surprised at how he seemed to have read your mind. Or personality, in general.

“Hey, Bucky!”

You watched the guy turn his head towards front door where a blonde guy— Steve from the student council, you recognized— entered. You thought it’d give you a chance to slip away but the guy, well Bucky, kept his hands in place.

“Kinda busy right now, pal. I’ll catch up with you later.” He said.

Steve’s gaze moved past Bucky until they landed on you. He chuckled as he shook his head at his friend’s antics. Steve walked away but not without acknowledging you.

“He may not seem like it, but Bucky’s a good guy. You can take my word for it.”

Bucky turned to you and lifted an eyebrow, “I mean, coming from a student council member, that’s a pretty credible source.” He said confidently.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. You had to admit, Bucky had a way with words and actions. His boyish charm was working on you and you hated how easily you were falling for it. And you just met the guy like ten minutes ago!

“So, what’s the password?” Bucky asked again.

You tapped your foot as you crossed your arms over your chest, “You promise to let me go if I tell you?”

Bucky made a face, “I don’t think that’s the right term because you can expect more of me once you give me the password. But I’ll definitely step aside. That’s a promise.” He reassured.

“Promises are meant to be broken.” You stated.

“Yeah, well watch me prove you wrong. Password? Pretty please?” He asked cutely and fuck, Bucky was really winning you over just like that.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you tell him your name and number. Just as he promised, Bucky stepped aside and quickly fished out his phone to type in your number. You honestly didn’t expect for him to remember it after hearing it once, but you peeked and he actually did. Impressive.

“Like I promised, off you go to study.” He said and motioned his arm towards the front door.

You sighed and offered a small smile before finally walking past him. You were about to open the front door when Bucky beat you to it.

“I told you ‘let go’ is the wrong term ‘cause I’m walking you home tonight.” Bucky said. “And tomorrow night too. And the next night and the next next night. Or afternoon. Morning? Whatever time your classes finish.”

Bucky really proved you wrong that night because he did walk you home the next night and the next next night too. It went on until he no longer had to watch you enter your dorm or apartment because eventually, the two of you ended up going to the same home.

It’s very ironic really, that it was also Bucky who failed to prove you wrong when he broke his promise not to hurt you, ever. You wondered whether it was your fault that you actually believed in him. It was hard not to though, because Bucky’s earned your trust from all the promises he made and kept.

Which is why it was even more painful when one day, he decided to break the one promise you truly held on to.

“I’ll always love you, you know that right?”

Bucky blurted it out randomly that his statement confused the hell out of you. The two of you were just playing a video game when he said it, making you hit pause.

“And where did that come from?” You asked with amusement.

Bucky frowned, “You could’ve reacted differently. I was hoping for a high-pitched ‘awwww!’ and this is what I get?” He teased, taking your chin in between his index finger and thumb to pull you close so he could bite your nose playfully.

“You said it out of the blue!” You told him with a laugh. “But it made me happy though.” You admitted and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah, well it’s true. I mean, this thing we got? It’s forever.” Bucky said and lovingly smiled at you.

You pretended to gag at his words but it was obvious that you felt like you were on cloud nine when Bucky said that. “Cheeseballs!” You teased.

“This cheeseball’s gonna put a ring on that finger one day. That’s a promise!”

A finger snapped right in front of your face, “You good?” Nat asked.

You nodded and tried your hardest not to look at Bucky. He was seated with Steve, Sam and some other guys at the table next to yours. You could feel him staring at you and it was making you anxious. Nat and Sharon exchanged looks before letting out a sigh in unison.

“Come on, I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that!” You told them with a forced chuckle.

“What did Bucky say?” Sharon asked. She’d seen Bucky approach you upon his arrival, saw the expressions you both had as you talked and knew immediately that it didn’t go well.

Nat hummed before taking a quick sip from her glass of wine, “We’ve been watching and we’re curious.”

“He was expecting for us to be friends.” You simply stated.

Nat and Sharon groaned and rolled their eyes, “What a dick.” Nat said.

“Men really do have the audacity.” Sharon laughed and shook her head.

You joined her laughter and lifted up your own glass of wine, “I’ll drink to that.” You said before finishing your drink in one go.

One glass of wine turned into two and then three and then four. Six drinks later and you were buzzed and unstoppable. You weren’t that drunk, you were good at handling alcohol but you were tipsy for sure. The formalities of the engagement party were finally done and the guests were left to mingle around.

Wanda and Vis immediately went to your table to catch up and after giving them your heartfelt congratulations (and apologies for missing out on plenty of events), you decided to step out of the venue to get some fresh air.

The silence allowed you to process your thoughts, the same thoughts you had repressed for years. You were happy for Wanda and Vis, truly. The two have been the epitome of soulmates and it was only right for them to end up tying the knot. But you also couldn’t help but wonder, would you and Bucky end up in marriage too had he decided to stay and work things out with you?

You lift up your left hand and stared at your bare ring finger. Just a few years ago, you’d been wearing a simple gold band studded with tiny diamonds around it— a promise ring. Bucky had given it as a gift on your 6th anniversary. You’d gotten together when you were just 19 and Bucky 21. People always doubted that your relationship with him wouldn’t last long given that the two of you were so different. Not to mention, Bucky had a reputation. Girls fawned over him; he was tall and handsome, had a rugged appeal to him thanks to his long hair and tattooed left arm. He drove a damn motorcycle that got him into trouble plenty of times.

You were Miss Goody Two Shoes who played it safe and Bucky was the Big Bad Wolf who liked taking risks.

It was a surprise when your relationship with him kept on progressing and the next thing you knew, the both of you have been together for a total of eight long years. It would’ve reached nine but shit happened and Bucky decided that those eight years didn’t matter to him anymore.

“Can we talk?”

If Bucky asked you that a couple of years ago, you would’ve probably punched him in the face and kneed him at the crotch before running away. Well, you still wanted to do so but a part of you wanted to talk things out. Get a proper closure maybe since Bucky failed to give you a detailed explanation that would help you understand why he chose to leave you.

Nat told you once that some things are better left unsaid. You spent years secretly pining for Bucky after the break up, spent nights questioning yourself where you lacked that made him leave you. You’d asked Steve about Bucky whether he met someone knew or how he was dealing with the break up; it did you more damage than good until you finally gave up and decided to actually move on.

But now that Bucky was here and there was no way to avoid him, maybe you deserved this confrontation after all.

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the pavement right in front of you.

You felt Bucky stand beside you, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans before turning to you, “About us.”

You snickered, “Us? What about us? What is there to talk about us?” You asked, turning your head to face him.

Bucky’s eyes have always been your favorite feature of his. They were very expressive and if Bucky could see through you every damn time, it was his eyes that you could always read. They were still blue but they held a certain emotion in them as he gazed at you.

Sadness and...regret?

Before your assumptions could get the best of you, you turned away and waited for Bucky to speak again.

“I can’t keep on avoiding you.” He said. “I’ve been doing so for the past few years and it kills me.” He admitted.

“And you think I want to keep doing this too? I’ve missed out on so many occasions because I just couldn’t be around you. You’re not the only one struggling.” You said.

Bucky shrugged, “Then let’s stop avoiding each other.”

The way he suggested it almost offended you; he was so nonchalant about it as if it was so easy to just let him waltz back into your life. Truth was, you dreamt of the day that he’d come crawling back to you. But you knew better than to let your walls down just because you miss him.

“When Steve told me that you seemed to be doing well, I really thought it meant that we can become friendly with each other, y’now. I mean, eight years. Those years meant so much to me, we’ve been through a lot and—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Barnes?!” You bitterly chuckled.

“If those eight years together really meant a lot to you, you would’ve stayed. You would’ve allowed me to work it out with you! But what, you broke up with me because you thought I was too good for you? That you felt suffocated just because I was looking out for you?”

You didn’t mean to snap at Bucky like that, in your mind you thought you would be able to have a calm conversation with him. But with the alcohol running through your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from expressing yourself and and feeling the same way you did on that specific night.

“Too good? How am I too good for you, Buck?” You asked, immediately wiping off the tears that escaped your eyes.

“You have everything planned out! For yourself, for us. And it makes me feel fucking useless! I see you work your way up at your job and I’m still figuring out what the hell I want to do with my life!” He exclaimed.

You shook your head, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” You whispered. “If you told me this then I could’ve done something about it, Buck! Rather than let it get this far, I would’ve fixed it.” You told him and tried to reach out but Bucky took a step back.

“That too! You’re a fixer! You always end up fixing things. This relationship has become an endless cycle of me fucking up things and you picking up the pieces. And every single time you clean my mess, I feel like you’re hoping I’d be like the others. It’s like you’re trying to make me into a person I’m not just so I could fit this, this certain mold you had in mind!” He accused you.

You wiped again your tears and refused to believe him, “That’s not true, Bucky! I’ve always loved you for who you are, I never asked you to change for me!”

“Yes, you do! You never said it but I always felt it...when Steve got promoted and when Sam finally launched his business. You always wanted me to be like them, you never said it out loud but that’s what you made me feel whenever we talk about my job...or lack thereof.” He chuckled bitterly.

Bucky may not be traditional in the sense that he considered himself an artist. He never liked the idea of settling for a nine to five desk job so he took on a job as a tattoo artist. It wasn’t a permanent job and he didn’t have clients demanding for him all the time so it gave him time to work for a motorcycle shop too.

It was never a problem for you but practically speaking, your and Bucky’s joint savings wouldn’t be enough for the future that the both of you have planned out.

“I’ve been supportive of you! I never asked you to give up on those jobs, Bucky.” You defended yourself.

Bucky nodded his head, “You don’t know it but you do. That’s how I felt whenever you suggested that I try something else.”

“It’s because I know you can do so much more! Stay at the tattoo parlor and mechanic shop, then fine! But don’t settle because you have the potential to make it out there, that’s what I want you to know! I don’t understand why you’re limiting yourself, Buck. Why you’re suddenly so afraid.”

You carefully took a step closer to Bucky and thank god he let you this time. You swallowed the lump in your throat and reached out to cup his face in your hand. Bucky was livid, his chest rising heavily with every breath he took.

“You were the one who taught me to be brave, to take risks. I used to be so afraid, remember? Afraid to ride your motorcycle, to try out that job I thought I couldn’t handle. I was so scared to commit,” you chuckled, remembering how much you hesitated to give Bucky a chance when he asked you to be officially his girlfriend.

“...but you’ve always been there for me. And I want to do the same with you. I know that it seems scary to let go of what you believe is your calling. You don’t have to let go of it, Buck. But you gotta try something new too.” You said as you let your thumb caress the skin beneath his eyes.

There was silence between the two of you. Bucky had calmed down and you thought that it was over. Little did you know that it was simply the calm before the storm. Because the words that came out of Bucky’s mouth were the words you didn’t expect to hear.

“Well, this is me trying something new.”

Bucky refused to meet your gaze and simply let your hand move away from his face. You shook your head no as you turned around to compose yourself.

“We were fine this morning, Buck. What happened?” You asked and embraced yourself, seeking comfort you knew you’d only get if Bucky changed his mind.

“I thought we were fine too. But the tattoo parlor is closing in a month and we haven’t been getting plenty of clients at the motorcycle shop. And it just hit me y’now, I dread coming home to you because I know you’d be disappointed and that again, you’d offer to fix my shit and the thing is, I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to fix my shit or tell me how to deal with my problems! I woke up and realized that I just don’t...” Bucky paused when you swiftly turned around with a frown, eyes brimming with a fresh new wave of tears.

“Don’t say it, Bucky. I’ll be better, I promise! I won’t nag you or pressure you into anything. Just please, don’t say it. Please don’t. We can still work this out.” You begged Bucky.

You weren’t sure you could take it, what he wanted to say. You already knew what he was going to tell you, you didn’t want to hear it. Let other people say it but god, it’d break you if you heard it from him.

“I’m sorry but I don’t need you anymore.”

The stabbing pain in your heart felt so familiar, the kind that punched all the air out of your lungs. You thought you were done crying over Bucky, but you were so wrong.

“I fucked up.” Bucky huffed out, bowing his head as if ashamed.

“You realized that just now?” You snickered. “Do you know how long it took for me to get over you? To forget the pain from hearing you tell me that you don’t need me anymore? After eight years together, Buck. You were my first everything and you gave up on us. And you really expected us to be friends, just like that?!” You spat.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky exclaimed, lifting his head to look up at you and you were surprised that his eyes were glazed with tears.

“I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong. Because you were right, I shouldn’t have settled then. But god I was an idiot, an insecure idiot.” He admitted.

“I was so used to being the one who guided you that it fucking hurt my ego when I noticed that you were becoming your own person outside of our relationship. I was supposed to be the one supporting you, pushing you to be better. You ended being the one leading me. I let my ego get the best of me and thought I’d be better off without you. But it was the biggest mistake of my life because when I left, I felt even more lost.” Bucky explained.

You were left speechless, you weren’t sure why Bucky was telling you all this. Did he want you back or was he simply apologizing? You didn’t have words so you remained quiet and waited to see whether Bucky had more to say.

“I’m so sorry, I really am. I hurt you. I should’ve stayed, should’ve worked with you to fix our relationship. I hate what we’ve become, I sincerely wanted us to be civil with each other at least.” He said.

“Bucky, you’ve been saying the same thing over and over again. I’m not sure you understand the situation. I can’t be friends with you. Not after what happened. I thought I was fine but now I realized that I’ve never really moved on from the pain you caused me.” You told him and sniffed, looking back to check whether your friends could see you.

Thankfully, all the guests were still busy mingling with each other. It’s as if the universe meant for this confrontation to happen. But now you weren’t sure what to do after you finally got a clear explanation from Bucky.

“I wanted a fresh start with you.” Bucky said. “Thought that it would make it easier for me to win you over if we were friends again.”

You scoffed in disbelief, “It’s not that easy, Buck. I can’t just let you walk back into my life after your apology. It doesn’t work that way.”

You tried to move past him but he immediately blocked your way, “When I said I’ll always love you, I meant it. I still do. I want to make things right, please. Give me one last chance to fix this.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, maybe it was Bucky’s words and how sincere he sounded that made your head spin. Your heart was racing and your palms turned cold. You wanted him back too, so bad but you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. He broke your heart and your trust, you weren’t sure if you’d survive if he left you again.

“I can’t continue this conversation, Bucky. I have to go.” You told him and made your way towards the door to the venue.

However, Bucky was quick to stand in front of the door. He had a determined look on his face, one that looked extremely familiar. You were still hurt but couldn’t deny the fact that you too, still love him.

Even after everything that had happened, Bucky still owned your heart.

“Bucky, can you please move? I want to go home.” You said and tried to reach for the door knob but Bucky moved and leaned against the door.

“You need a password to get through.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’re way too old for this, Bucky. I’m not playing with you.”

He shook his head, “I’m not playing either. Give me the password or else we’d be here the entire night.”

You huffed out, “This isn’t funny. Let me through.”

Bucky shrugged, “No can do. Like I said, I can do this all night.”

You deadpanned, “What’s the hint?” You asked with a defeated sigh, knowing well enough that there was no way you could walk past him without playing along with his stupid little game.

“Consists of three words.” Bucky said.

“Penis boobs vagina.”

Bucky cackled, “And I thought you said we’re too old for this.”

You groaned, “I’m serious, Bucky. Just let me go.”

“No. I made that mistake once and I’m not doing that again. I love you. And I promise that this time, it’ll be different. I know you still love me too, so again I am asking you to take a risk and say it.”

Bucky said it with conviction and you hated how it made your stomach flip. Up until this day, Bucky had a way to make you fold. And he could still read you.

“I’m not saying it, Bucky. How sure are you that I still feel the same anyway?” you asked.

Bucky tipped his head towards your neck, “Not sure if you just forgot but you’re wearing the promise ring as a necklace.”

Fuck. Of course, you’d forgotten about it. You may not have been wearing it on your finger, but you still continued to wear it. It meant a lot to you even after the break up, so much so that you couldn’t simply throw it away or remove it. You figured that it might be better to keep it around your neck. Out of sight, out of mind but still there. You wanted it to exist, it was a part of you.

“Say it and I promise that you won’t regret it.” Bucky insisted.

“Promises are meant to be broken. You proved that the night you broke up with me.” Your voice quivered when you said that.

“And I want to make it up for it for the rest of my life.” He reassured.

“History repeats itself. I don’t think I can deal with it again if you realized the second time around that you don’t need me. Buck, you really hurt me.” You said, voice cracking before you could even finish your sentence.

Bucky quickly took your face in between his hands and for some reason, it felt right. The warmth of his palm, the love in his eyes as he gazed at you, it felt like home.

“I know and I hate myself for it. So fucking much. But I promise you, it wouldn’t happen again. I fixed my life when you left, realized that you were right. I’m better now. So let me be the fixer this time, let me be the one to fix this mess, to pick up the pieces. Because I’m just as afraid to let you go again. I can’t do that again. I love you and I need you. I always did.”

The kiss he pressed on your forehead caused your walls to crumble down. All of a sudden you were sobbing into his arms and apologizing.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you then, Buck. I didn’t know, I’m sorry too.” You cried.

“Shh, no. Please don’t apologize.” Bucky coaxed as he pulled back to kiss your tears away. “None of this was your fault, baby. It’s all on me. Let me make it up to you, please?”

The term of endearment made your heart flutter and as much as you hated how Bucky easily won you over, again, the love you have for him was quick to outweigh it. You knew you shouldn’t have given in to him just like that, but this was Bucky. He was your greatest love, someone who owned your heart even after he left.

“I miss you, baby. Couldn’t fathom the thought of you being with someone else.” Bucky admitted as he hugged you tightly.

“I was so stupid, so fucking stupid. I hated myself for hurting you. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

His hand rubbed circles against your back, helping you calm down after your breakdown. He swayed you from side to side, pressed kisses on your crown and whispered promises that he was sure he was going to keep and you basked in it. When you finally calmed down, you pressed your face into Bucky’s neck and inhaled his scent.

He smelled the same, like comfort and love and trust. You hugged him tighter and smiled into his skin and mumbled, “I love you.”

Bucky chuckled, “You got the password right but I don’t think I’m letting you go just yet.”

“Nat and Sharon’s gonna kick our asses if they find out.” You chuckled.

He pulled back and stared at you lovingly, “I’ll take the hit for you.” he laughed.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled again, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Forgiven.” You told him and stood on your tiptoes until Bucky bent down to meet your lips in a kiss.

You sighed into the kiss. Four and a half years of pain and anger all gone and replaced with the love you always had for Bucky. His lips against yours made you dizzy but in a good way.

It felt right, like this was how things were really supposed to be.

You pulled back and sighed, “As much as I want to stay like this, I’m really tired.”

Bucky let you go but took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m driving you home tonight.” He said.

You smiled.

“And the next night. And the next next night.”

Yet again, Bucky proved himself to be worthy of another chance. Because he drove you home the next night, and the next next night. It went on until he regained your trust back and all was well enough for him to finally reveal the black velvet box that he had been keeping in his pocket since the night of your eventful reunion.

“You need a password to see what’s inside.” Bucky grinned up at you as he bent down on one knee.

You chuckled through your years, “Any hint?”

“One word, three letters.”

You wiped away your tears with a smile followed by a subtle nod.

“Yes.”

Bucky kept his promise all along, he really did put a ring on your finger. Took quite a while with plenty of obstacles that caused its delay, but a promise fulfilled nonetheless.

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nishisun · 3 years

Text

tomorrow can wait.

(dorm buddies special chapter) (reposted)

summary: it’s the last day of your honeymoon so you and tsukishima took advantage of it.

warnings: thigh riding, edging, unprotected sex, riding, fingering, oral (female receiving), dacryphilia (?), clit spanking (like once), idk if i’m missing anything

dorm buddies masterlist

It had been a tedious day for you and tsukishima, you both tried to visit as many places in the foreign city before going back home tomorrow. it was your idea of course, tsukishima would rather stay at home and cuddle, but he couldn’t say no to you.

you’re finally back from the the touring, now inside your luxurious (and very well air-conditioned) hotel room. you both had just finished showering since it was pretty humid outside, now laying down comfortably on the king-sized bed with tsukishima scrolling through his phone and you laying on top of him.

let’s just say one thing lead to another.

now straddled on one of tsukishima’s thighs, rubbing yourself back and forth on him, all clothing discarded somewhere in the room. both of tsukishima’s hands were placed on each hip, controlling your movement, causing you to whine.

“look at you,” he breathed gently, “desperate to get off my thigh. you that needy?” he mutters, you barely registered anything he’d just said, you can’t even bother to ask because you were too focused on gaining your release. your face is heating up a lot, though. the way his voice rasp in your ear makes you even needier.

“c’mon y/n,” he whispers tenderly, mouth pressed against your ear, “i know you can give me a better answer. be a good girl and use your words.”

“hmm, yes, kei.” you gasp when he spanks your ass quickly and speeds up the movement of your hips. “hah! i’m close!”

he removed his hands from your hips, now leaning back with the support of his arms.

“why?” you nearly yell, you were so close to achieving your orgasm. why did he suddenly stop? “why’d you stop?”

he tilts his head to the side before getting up, causing you to stumble onto the floor. “lay down on your back.”

doing as he asks, or rather, demands, you lay on your back, legs spread perfectly where tsukishima can see your glistening pussy.

he wastes no time moving down your body, leaving a wet trail of kisses on your skin. he carefully wraps his arms around your thighs, placing a kiss on each one. he looks at you for a brief moment, kissing every place except for the place that needs to be kissed the most, causing your hips to buck every now and then.

he finally stops teasing a licks a long stripe along your pussy forcing your head to throw back.

“hah!”

tsukishima’s fingers make their way up to one of your breasts, gently grazing his fingertips on your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, gently sucking the tiny bud.

“kei, please.” you sob. tsukishima looks up at you with a smirk on his face as he observes you writhing against him.

“please what, baby? what do you want? hm?” he unlatches his tongue from your clit, replacing them with his fingers that gently ghost over your slit.

“fingers, please.”

“aw,” he coos, resting his head on one of your thighs “you’re so polite”

“only for you,” you whine.

“where do you want them? want my fingers inside you?” he’s obviously taking advantage of how submissive you’ve gotten. he only knows you get like this when you’re extremely fucked out.

“Hah! Yes please!” your legs are visibly shaking, there’s tears falling from your face and it solely makes tsukishima harder. seeing the way you squirm under his hold makes him want to fuck you until you beg him to stop. he continues rubbing his pointer finger against your slit, causing your hips to buck against his hand.

“no.” his hand lands harshly on your clit, making you loudly sob in response. “if you do that again, i’m leaving you like this.”

“i’m so sorry!”

“it’s okay, baby. i know it was on accident. here, let me kiss it better, okay?”

you nod, as he immediately sucks your clit, he can feel your legs tensing under him, trying your absolute hardest not to buck your hips into him. you just don’t want to upset him.

“you’re doing so good. taking it like a champ, right baby? such a good girl.”

“y-yeah.”

he places one hand in your hip as he slowly plunges one finger inside your hole. he doesn’t move it, admiring the way your pussy flutters around it. you whimper when he finally moves his finger, curling it up just the way you like it.

“you needed this, didn’t you? it’s been a while since i’ve gotten to play with your pretty pussy. i’ve missed it.”

“mmm,” you let out a moan, “‘s missed you too.”

tsukishima chuckles, he loves the way your words slur when you’re like this, you probably don’t even notice how fucked out you sound.

it doesn’t take long before he adds another finger, stretching you out while his tongue laps your clit.

“God, ’m so close.” your hands grip his hair as you grind against his tongue. his fingers pump into you at the same speed, more forcibly making you gasp for air.

“i’m c-cumming!” one hand flies to your face quickly to cover your mouth, preventing yourself from loudly squealing as you violently cum on his fingers.

he slowly withdraws his fingers from your cunt, unlatching his mouth from your clit.

he leans toward to kiss you, tasting yourself, when he slides his tongue into your mouth. you pull away shyly, facing the opposite direction.

“please, don’t tell me you're shy.”

“do you ever shut up?”

“you’re one to talk. i’m pretty sure the people walking by our room could hear you.”

he chuckles when you instantly cover your face.

“i’m not done with you.”

tsukishima pulls his boxers off, placing one hand on each side of your head, moaning when you feel his tip come in contact with your clit.

you’re overwhelmed by his senses, his flushed skin on yours, the way his hair is now rough due to all the tugging you were doing earlier, and the way he softly nibbles on your neck.

you begin grinding your hips absentmindedly with the slight friction you’re receiving, causing tsukishima’s hands to instantly fly on one of your hips to stop you.

“needy, huh? and so disobedient.” he scoffs, squinting at you before sitting up. “c’mon. come ride me.” he leans on the head of the bed, patting his leg gently. you quickly nod, crawling over to him. he places both hands on your sides smirking.

“what? can’t do it?” he challenges.

“fuck you.”

you slowly sink down on his cock, the both of you moaning in unison at the contact. you firmly place both of your hands on the side of his shoulders as he gives an experimental thrust, causing you to yelp.

“don’t do that!”

“sorry, baby. i can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

once you’ve gotten used to his size, you slowly move up and down his shaft causing him to groan in pleasure.

“fuck.”

hearing tsukishima moan gave you the confidence to pick up the pace, grinding your hips and moving up and down as tsukishima’s hand moved to toy with your clit. he’s grunting with every move you make and your head falls back while you continue to ride him.

“you’re doing great, baby.”

“shut up. i’m trying to concentrate.”

he moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down harshly, cause your whole body to jerk foward.

“Haah!”

he smirks when you don’t attempt to pick yourself up, laying on his chest as both his hands land on your hips thrusting into you at a brutal pace.

“shit,” he drags, “look at that, baby.” you don’t look, your mind is entirely too hazy, your head continues to rest on his shoulder. at this point you’ve gone limp.

he looks down to where the both of you are connected, slowing down his movements so he can watch the ring of your milky white cum on his cock get bigger in size every time he takes a thrust. after one thrust, he’s seemed to discover your special spot that makes you clench around him dangerously tight.

“shit, relax baby.” he groans, you let out a pathetic moan in response. “you really are a pillow princess, huh? making me carry out all the work. all bark, but no bite.” his lips ghost along your ear, you’re too fucked out to even form a sentence, the sole thing coming from your lips is a whimper.

“kei, i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? you’ve been a good girl. cum for me.”

so you do.

your orgasm triggers his, he cums hard and deep inside you, his dick pulsing inside you. you fall on top of him, unable to move any of your muscles. tsukishima is quick to wrap his arms around you, both of you panting messes.

“you did so good. i love you.”

“hmmm,” you hum, “love you more.”

— i put this on queue for 6:00pm and it posted at 2 something........... so i reposted

— if you get tagged again PLS FORGIVE ME🙏🙏 tumblr is acting up

— i was reading the last chapter of dorm buddies and then i realized i forgot abt yams😢

taglist: @m01k @sunasro @cvlliesstuff @appleciderslut @lilacnoodles @sinistersith @d0llpie @kac-chowsballs @resetrestartandreplay @satomiis @xo-lovelyreign-xo @idiot-juice-enthusiast @definitelynotbianca @my-weeb-ass @yourlocalbabybird @bokutosuwus @tadashisprout @daninaninani @r4twh0r3 @tazinva @neokawa @mirikusashes @helloshoutohere @goldenchaos7 @wingsofmydemons @fearlesskz @moonieho @denkis-slut @nikanikabitch @peteunderoos @itsjustsavs @lalisbitch @micheleinumaki @tsukkisbbyg @kuroosluv @immxnty @rory-cakes @thechaosoflonging @ish-scribbles @randomesk-yuku @emazzello @fivxss @morosis-haze @setterswife @rarr-com1452z @excujeemi @flamingosis

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

Text

Never Again, I Promise

AO3 link! y'all, listen, this one was floating around in my head for weeks and I finally had a breakthrough cause of a random tumblr post I made..... anyway, you know what? I finally forced myself to finish it up I hope y'all enjoy it, tell me your thoughts if you'd like to! and as always, sorry for any grammatical errors!

warning: implied abusive parents, clingy reader, and lactation

-----

"Cassie, hi, do you know where your mother is? I've been looking for her all morning." You asked when you ran into Alcina second oldest daughter, Cassandra.

Cassandra scratched her head. "I think she might be in the library or her study or her office. Honestly, Y/ N, Mother is usually all over the castle before a meeting." Cassandra replied.

You nodded your head. "Okay, I'll just check all those places until I find her. Thanks." You replied before heading to the library.

You didn't expect yourself to want to be near the tall vampire lady when you first arrived at the castle, but she was so kind to you that you took to her like a baby animal imprinting on the first thing it saw. The library was a bust, but you did find Daniela, Alcina's youngest, in there studying her French.

"Hey, Dani, do you know where your Mother is? I asked Cassandra and she said that she might be here, her study, or her office." You asked as you walked up to her.

Daniela shrugged. "Well, there's a meeting coming up so those last two choices are good places to look. Unless, no, I can't tell you about that place. Anyway, yeah, her study or her office, check there. If you still can't find her then come back and we'll look for her together." Daniela replied.

You sighed. "Okay. Thanks." You said before heading out of the library.

You checked her study, knocking on the door first and getting no reply so you opened the door slightly and poked your head inside. Sigh, she wasn't in there either. You crossed your fingers and hoped that she was in her office. As you walked in the direction of her study which was on the other side of the castle you ran into Bela, Alcina's oldest.

"Bela, hi! Do you know if your Mother is in her office?" You asked.

Bela nodded her head. "She is! I just came from there, but if you go in there be cautious. There's-"

You cut her off. "A meeting, I know. I'll try to be respectful of her space." You replied. That was going to be a bit hard to do since you just wanted to invade her space as much as you could. You headed to where Alcina's office was and knocked on the door. "Alci?" You called out, your voice slightly muffled through the thick door.

"Come in, little one." Alcina said and you pushed the door opened. "What can I do for you?" Alcina asked as she continued to do her work.

You walked over to the desk. "I was just- can I sit?" You asked. Alcina nodded her head and you wedged yourself between her and her desk much to her surprise.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Alcina asked as you got comfortable in her lap.

"I asked if I could sit and you said yes. I can, I can mo-" You started to say but Alcina shook her head. "I'll be good, promise." You said quietly as you let her get back to her work. You quickly grew bored just sitting in her lap and started squirming, moving along to a beat that was playing in your head.

Alcina pressed her hand into your side to keep you still. "Y/N, I cannot concentrate if you're going to do that." Alcina said. "Why don't you go bring a chair over and you can sit next to me?" Alcina suggested.

You pouted a bit at the idea, but reluctantly removed yourself from her lap to bring a chair over. She patted the top of your head when you sat down and you smiled to yourself. You didn't want to seem like you were trying to annoy her, but you were still bored so you tapped her arm.

"Yes, Y/N?" Alcina asked, not taking her eyes off her paper.

"Alci, I'm bored." You replied. "Do you have anything I can do?"

Alcina let out a small sigh before nodding her head. "The girls used to come in here all the time. There are pencils, crayons, paper, and colouring books. You can use whatever you want, but please try to keep as quiet as possible. I still have tons of paperwork to do." Alcina said.

You nodded your head. "Okay, Alci." You replied with a small smile before digging into the drawer that Alcina had pointed to. You sat on the floor by the fire after you'd gotten some coloured pencils and a colouring book. As you coloured, you started humming to yourself, catching Alcina's attention.

"Dear," You snapped your head up to look at her, flushing a bit. You gave her an apologetic smile. "Thank you."

It wasn't long before you stopped colouring to look up at Alcina. "Ali?" You called out. She hummed in reply. "Can I sit in your lap again? The floor hurts." You whined. You heard her sigh a bit before she nodded her head, scooting her chair back a bit so you had enough room to get on her lap. "Much better." You said with a small sigh as you sat on her.

It was an hour later before Alcina patted your side to get your attention. "I'm afraid I have to make a call to Mother Miranda, little one." You nodded your head and got up from her lap.

"Can I stay?" You asked. Alcina shook her head. "Please, Ali? I'll be quiet, promise."

"I don't know, Y/N. This is a very important phone call." Alcina said as she headed to the phone. You nodded your head, understanding her decision. "But if you really promise to be quiet then I suppose." You smiled at her and moved to pick up your stuff when she stopped you. "It'd be best if you stayed right here. Things with Mother Miranda can get quite... tense. And I'd hate for you to get caught in the middle of the rage she incites in me. Do you understand, little one?"

"I understand, Ali." You replied, albeit a bit dejectedly. You moved your things up onto Alcina’s desk as she sat down in front of the phone.

Alcina gave you a small smile before she dialled Mother Miranda’s number. You had tuned out most of their conversation, only ever jumping when Alcina would growl and pull you out of your thoughts. You didn’t let it bother you much, but you still closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm yourself down. It was going well until Alcina had slammed the phone down onto the receiver and threw it at the wall on the other side of the study.

You quickly got up and headed over to where she was seated, your heart beating fast. “Alcina?” You called out, but she ignored you. You called out her name again, attempting to rest your hand on her shoulder, but froze when hers shot out and grabbed yours.

Alcina slowly turned to look at you, her eyes narrow as she stared at you. Her nostrils flared and her chest heaved heavily. You let out a small whimper and tugged on your arm when her grip tightened. “Alcina, please, you’re hurting me.”

“I thought I specifically told you to stay at the desk.” Alcina growled. “But what can I expect from a clingy little mouse? I tell you to do one thing and you don’t listen. Do you need a punishment to help reinforce the rules, is that what you require? Answer me!” Alcina spat at you.

Your lip trembled as she spoke to you. Did she really think you were clingy? Your face flushed as your anger got a hold of you and you ripped your arm from her iron-like grip. “I hate you! I hate you! You’re just like them!” You didn’t realise you were crying until you had run out of the office and to Alcina’s room.

You hid in the closet, terrified of what she’d do if she found you. She wanted to punish you, she wanted to hurt you. You whimpered at the memories of what your parents did to you if you even so much as breathed in their direction. But your Alcina would never hurt you, would she?

You wrapped your arms around yourself, sobbing into your knees. “Clingy. She thinks I’m clingy.” You whisper to yourself. You sniffled and felt yourself tense at the sound of heels, Alcina’s heels. You burrowed yourself further into her closet, grateful for how big it was.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there.” Alcina rasped out. “Please, I’m sorry. Please, just come out.” You could hear the cracking of her voice. “When you said that you… you hated me, my heart broke, draga mea. I never wish to harm you. And when you compared me to those monsters you had to call parents, I felt sick to my stomach. I don’t wish for you to view me as you view them.”

“Alcina?” You replied softly, not moving from your spot. You heard rustling in the room before the closet door opened. “Alcina?” Your lip trembled again as you felt tears build up in your eyes again.

Alcina crouched down in the closet before crawling over to you. “Iubirea mea, I’m so sorry. Forgive me for the way I snapped at you, please?” Alcina asked as you crawled into her lap, burying your head in her neck.

You sniffled. “You… you called me cli-clingy. Yo-you h-hurt me, Ali.” You whispered into her neck.

“I never should have said that. I was just so frustrated with Mother Miranda and you… I never want you to see me like that again.” Alcina replied, pressing kisses to your forehead. You nodded into her neck, scooting down to lay in the crook of her arm. You were still crying softly as she caressed your cheek. “Shh, shh, little one, I’ve got you.” Alcina said as she brought one of her breasts out of her dress.

You squeezed it in a silent question and Alcina nodded her head. She let out a small sigh when you latched onto the nipple, putting you in a better position to get her milk.

“Never again, my love, I promise. Never again.” Alcina said softly as you drank from her. You felt your eyes start to droop as you suckled at her breast. “Rest now, little one.” Alcina pressed another kiss to your forehead, running her hand down your back as you fell asleep in her arms.

-----

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karlajoyner · 4 years

Text

Impossible (Reggie Peters x Reader)

A/n: This was again another request! I definitely enjoyed writing it! If you guys have any requests please comment them or dm me! Also currently working on an Owen Joyner smut that goes a little more into detail than the last so be prepared! Also let me know if you guys think I should make a tag list!

Requested by: @universefangirl (Tumblr)

Warnings: Smut (18+)

————

I sat in my best friends garage listening to her rehearse with her band until it was time.

"Flynn's gonna love this" I said looking up from my sketch book.

"Thanks y/n/n. I honestly don't know what I would've done if you hadn't believed me"

"Well at first I didn't. But you proved your point Jules" I said remembering how I just thought they were normal boys at first. Cute normal boys.

"I just hope she forgives me" The girl sighed looking down. I looked back at the rest of her bandmates who like all guys stood there awkwardly. They all sent me a look begging me to comfort her. I rolled my eyes standing up.

"Julie we've all been best friends since kindergarten. We've been through everything together. This is just another one of those things we have to get through" I said going to pull her in for a hug from behind.

"Thanks. Again. It really means a lot"

"What are best friends for?" I smiled as she hugged back the room going silent.

“You never know how long your supposed to wait in this type of situation before you can talk again you know?" (If you know where that's from I love you) Luke said making my head whip towards him.

"Maybe a little longer" The brunette spoke making me facepalm.

I looked back at the group nervously to see them giving me a thumbs up. My gaze quickly finding the cute bass player who sent me an air kiss. I jokingly pretended to catch it earning disgusted looks from the rest of the band.

"Gross" Julie joked.

"Shut it Molina" I warned turning around to go bring our other friend in. I was startled at the sudden sound of knocking outside the doors. Hearing a few chuckles from behind me as I opened the door.

"Hey Flynny" I smiled using the nickname I gave her when we were kids.

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Where's Julie?"

"I'm right here" Said girl called from behind me.

"Thanks for coming we just wanted to rehearse the song so it was perfect which it's not but whatever"

"No if I'm gonna hear a song from your imaginary ghost band I want it to be perfect so get back in there" Flynn said waving us back.

"All of you. You too" She said pointing to absolutely nothing.

"She's not lying Flynn. They're real"

"Oh my god now you've got y/n/n in on your imaginary ghost band? Do you play air drums?" Flynn's asked placing a hand on my shoulder.

"No that's Alex. I'm not in the band per se but I watch them rehearse all the time. Plus my boyfriends in it"

"Oh so she really sucked you in. So where are they?"

"They're not out here"

"Oh I know" Flynn said patting Julie's shoulder before walking in. I looked at the girl beside me playfully rolling my eyes.

Flynn had always been the logical one out of the three of us. So no doubt this was gonna have to be good. I shut one of the doors behind us while Julie shut the other before making my way towards the boys who stood there looking excited.

"Good luck" I whispered. Placing a quick kiss to Reggies cheek.

"Oh so my best friends just kissing the air now. That's great. What's your moms number again?" She asked pulling out her phone. I playfully rolled my eyes taking a seat on the couch pulling up my sketch book once more.

I was currently working on a drawing for the guys. Something that screams were alive. As Luke put it.

"All right guys you ready? Uh actually can you go over there. Reggie needs some space to rock out and he feels kinda weird walking through you" Julie said. Flynn letting out a chuckle.

"Boy when you create a world you really live in it"

"Just sit" Julie said sitting her down in an empty chair.

"If you'll notice there's no equipment that will produce a hologram. Feel free to look around. The guys took a poem that I wrote about you and put it to music"

"Y/n helped" Reggie interrupted making me smile.

"I'm sorry. The guys and y/n"

“Aww! I wish I didn't have to talk to your parents after this"

“Come on Flynny it's a great song"

"If you say so y/n/n. So when did you go crazy?" She asked placing a hand on her knees.

"It's called Flying Solo. Hope you like it" I smiled upon hearing the opening notes of the song.

J- If I leave you on a bad note

Leave you on a sad note

I know all your secrets

You know all my deep-dish

Guess that means some things they never, they never

Change...

We both know what I, what I, what I

Mean...

When I look at you it's like I'm looking at me

I looked up from my book when Flynn let out a scream signalling she could finally see them.

All- My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo

My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo without you

Hey! yeah-e-yeah

My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo without you

I grinned at Flynn who gave me a horrified look.

"Are you seeing this?" She whispered. I only nodded giggling at her reaction.

J- Yeah, you know who I'm likin'

Way before I liked them, duh...

Cause you liked them first

And if somebody hurts you

I'm gonna get hurt too

That's just how we work, yeah, that's just how we work

It will never

Change...

We both know what I, what I, what I

I bit my lip watching my boyfriend sing at a close proximity with Luke. Something that I'll never get used to. But definitely enjoyed. When they finallly separated Reggie sent me a wink as he sang the chorus. Luke gradually making his was over to me sitting down on the armrest beside me.

My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo

My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo without you

I chuckled as Luke scared Flynn. Instinctively I smacked his arm. Earning a confused look coming from the girl as Julie pulled her away towards Alex and Reggie.

Hey! yeah-e-yeah

I watched closely as Flynn attempted to touch my boyfriend only to have her hand go right through him.

"Weird right?"

"They're ghost!" "Oh we prefer musician spirits"

"But y/n" Flynn said pointing at me.

"We don't understand it either. But she can see and touch them. It's not the same for both of us" Julie explained showing how her hand went through Reggie as well.

“Julie so does this mean you're joining the our band?"

"Umm actually I think you're joining her band"

"I'm gonna go with what she said" Julie said sticking a hand out for me. I grinned taking it.

My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo

My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo without you

Julie sang the three of us dancing along.

"You're crazy" Flynn mouthed to me making me smile wider. She tilted her head to the side pointed at the bassist who had his focus on me.

Hey! yeah-e-yeah

I moved away from the two girls to let them have a moment. Reggies bass playing coming to a halt. Instinctively I moved to his side. His arm finding my waist and pulling me close. A chuckle leaving his lips.

My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo without you

Julie harmonized coming forehead to forehead with Flynn.

"Still wanna talk to our parents?"

"No I'm good" Flynn said the two girls hugging.

"Bring it in y/n/n!" Julie said opening her arms wider. I smiled kissing Reggies cheek before rushing to engulf my best friends in a group hug.

"I'm really glad Flynn enjoyed the song today" I spoke after a long day. I was finally able to sit in at my desk and continue drawing in my sketchbook.

With Reggie present in the room as well. Like most nights.

"I did too. She seems like a cool girl"

"Oh she is Reg. She was literally my first ever friend and with Julie the three of us have been inseparable since" I explained to my boyfriend who moved his arms behind his head.

"Well then I guess I'll have to get to know her better. For your sake of course" He said the room falling into a comfortable silence with exception of my soft music playing in the background.

Ed Sheeran to be exact. He had easily become one of the boy's favorites new artist. So when they hung out in my room I played him a lot. Along with other artists of course.

It had been about 15 minutes of my pencil hitting the paper when I finally looked up to see Reggie gazing at me.

"Have you been staring at me this whole time?"

"Maybe"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because your adorable"

"Really Reg. Look at you. Your a hot teenage ghost rocker from the 90's and you think I'm adorable" I giggled.

"I love your laugh" He stated my cheeks immediately heating up.

"Thanks" I smiled shyly.

"I love you" He spoke again. My heart stopping.

That was the first time either of us had said that. Since the night I met them in Julie's garage to now. Those were the last words I never expected anyone to say that wasn't family or Julie or Flynn.

Upon not hearing a response the look on his face dropped as he pulled himself to the edge of the bed in front of me.

"I-I mean you don't have to say it b-back I was just thinking out loud but like I could have been t-talking about anything like pizza. I love pizza. P-pizzas good well except pineapple pizza kinda of sort of. Actually you know what's really good cheese pizza that's nice I really like it-" I quickly cut him off by placing a tender kiss to his lip. Feeling his hands cup my cheeks the warmth of them making me feel safe. Loved.

I wanted more of him. I wanted to feel all of him.

Finally breaking apart I smiled at the boy in front of me.

"What?" He asked as I gazed into his beautiful brown eyes.

"I love you too Reg" His small smile only getting bigger.

He quickly removed the sketchbook away from me. Placing me onto his lap.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think I've ever been more sure of anything my whole life" I smiled as he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Kiss me" I whispered. Reggie immediately taking action.

I giggled as he began to kiss down my neck my hands flying to remove his red flannel. He was quick to remove it himself among my request. His other hand gripping my waist. I took this as my opportunity to fix myself on his lap straddling him. Like I'd done so many times before.

Our lips met in the middle as we both kissed each other with such force. Such passion. I smirked into the kiss as I placed my hand under Reggies tank top. His reaction something I hadn't expected.

"W-what are you doing?" He asked pulling away to look me in the eyes. I bit my lip giving him a look.

"Oh" He said letting out a breath.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah"

"Have you ever....." He trailed off. I nodded watching his face drop.

"If it helps I didn't really like the guy. And it was a long time ago"

"Oh" He kind of perked up.

"So? Are we good here?" I asked placing a soft kiss on his neck. And another and another. Until finally settling on a spot. Earning a throaty groan from the ghost.

"Yup" He squeaked out making me smirk. I placed my hand where it had been previously hiking it up his shirt. He quickly removed it before pulling me back in for a rough kiss.

"Reggie" I moaned as I began to grind on him only earning a soft whimper from the boy. Thankful my parents were out of town. Not for Reggies sake but mine.

"Come on y/n/n don't tease me now"

"You asked for it Reg" I smirked standing up. I smiled noticing how intently he was watching my next moves. I quickly removed my shirt and bra watching him gulp down nervously.

"Like what you see?" I asked biting my lip nervously.

I watched as he nodded eagerly before continuing. I removed my jeans as well leaving me in my panties before slowly bending down in front of him.

"N-no" He spoke stopping me from reaching toward his jeans.

"W-why not?" I asked confused.

"It's just- I wanna be with you tonight. We have plenty of time for everything else but this. This is different. It's our first time. I mean like not our first times but like our first time together and I-" I quickly cut off his cute rambling again with a kiss.

"I get it Reg. It's about us tonight" I smiled pushing him back onto my bed. Straddling him once more.

“Your so beautiful" He whispered his hands flying to my waist.

"Why thank you Reginald" I spoke bending down to meet his lips. Our bare chest coming into contact for the very first time. I moaned as he toyed with the waistband of my panties.

"Reggie please do something" I mumbled against his lips. He immediately took action flipping us over.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked waiting for my consent.

I simply nodded watching as he removed his jeans and boxers letting his hard on spring free from the contained fabric.

"Reggie" I panted digging my teeth into my bottom lip to widthold from the unholy sounds threatening to escape my lips.

"What baby? What do you want?" He teased pushing his finger against the fabric of my panties.

"You" He quickly ripped apart the thin fabric around my waist letting it fall off my body. Throwing it off to the side.

"Are you ready?"

"Wait!" I shouted pulling open a nearby drawer. I pulled out a condom from a box that had been sitting there for a while.

"Protection? Why do you have that there?"

"Well I knew this day would come Reg. I was hoping it would be with you" I said a smile forming on his face.

"Do you think we'll need it? I mean I'm a ghost"

"Safety first baby"

"Well okay then" He said slipping it on.

"Okay now are you ready?" I nodded as he slowly entered me.

Our moans filled the room as he let me adjust to his size.

"Baby your so tight" "Yeah well it's been a while" I muttered pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Okay you can move" I said giving him the go.

"If you want me to stop just say so okay?"

"Okay" I confirmed as he lent down to place a kiss upon my lips. He slowly began to move until he found a good pace. His thrust moving faster as a spur of moans left our lips.

"God I love you so much" I mumbled against my lips.

"Mmm. Faster Reg!" I encouraged him really feeling the pleasure course through me now. Getting exactly what I wanted I began to moan louder feeling him hitting my G spot at the perfect angle.

"Right there" I spoke feeling a knot forming in my lower stomach.

"I'm so close baby"

"Me too" He panted. We both released our orgasms at the same time relief washing over me as he pulled out. I laid back on the bed watching him throw the condom in the trash can under my desk.

"That was amazing" He said coming back to hover over me.

"It was" I smiled up at him. Pulling him down from behind his neck for another kiss. "I love you baby. I love you so much"

"I love you more" I said as he laid down beside me pulling the covers over us.

"Impossible"

#reggie x reader #reggie jatp #alex jatp #charlie gillespie #flynn jatp #jeremy shada #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke jatp #madison reyes #owen patrick joyner #sacha carlson #sunset curve #luke x reader #luke patterson #alex x reader #owen joyner #jadah marie

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 21/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain, Allan Schrieber Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting, Spiders

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: It’s time.

Chapter 20 of my post-canon fix-it is up! Read above at AO3 or read here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Sasha hung up her phone and turned back toward Jon and Martin. “Well, that’s it then. They’re ready.”

She was referring to Allan and Elias, who were at Hill Top Road; Allan had wanted to take a few last-minute measurements, but mostly he’d wanted to be there to record what was about to happen.

Tim looked down at his own phone. “And Melanie just confirmed there’s no one left in the building—no one she and Georgie have been able to find, anyway.”

That morning, Jon had called Basira and asked her to shut down the Institute under the guise of further police investigation; she’d done so with remarkably little questioning. Martin didn’t know what Jon had told her they were doing, and he didn’t want to. He’d wondered for the first time that morning if she had been seeing him in her dreams. Now Georgie and Melanie were in the Institute, somewhere above them, waiting.

Sasha nodded. “Ok. Jon, look, I want to be completely clear—you can still change your mind. No one’s telling you you have to do this. You can still back out.”

“I understand,” Jon said. “And I’m not backing out.”

Sasha sighed. “Ok. Um—what’s next, then?”

Jon met Martin’s eyes for the first time since they had made their way in through the tunnels; he looked back at Sasha and Tim. “Would you give us a moment?”

“Yes—yes, of course. We’ll—um—”

“Don’t go too far. Stay in sight.”

“Right. Come on, Tim.”

Tim looked at Martin like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. Sasha spoke to him quietly enough that Martin couldn’t hear her words, and they turned their backs as they walked slowly toward one of the tunnels that converged on their current location in the Panopticon.

“I hate this place,” Martin said. It was the first thing that came into his head.

“So do I.”

“Do you, though?”

“Yes.”

Martin looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to fight with Jon right now, but the only words that came to his mind were angry and bitter. They were words he might have used to try to stop this, if he’d thought he could, but he knew they were well past that.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, reaching a hand to Martin’s elbow.

“I’m—Jon, I’m scared.”

For a moment, just a moment, Jon faltered; he pulled his hand back slightly, and drew in a quiet breath. In the next moment, though, it was like it had never happened; Jon set his jaw and squeezed Martin’s arm.

“Are you ready?”

“No.” He nodded, though, because he knew Jon needed to see it.

“All right,” Jon said softly, before turning toward Tim and Sasha. “It’s time.”

Sasha took a deep breath. “Where should we—”

“Where you are,” Jon said. “That’s good. You should be safe if—you’ll have a chance to run if I’m not fast enough.” Martin assumed Jon was referring to the possibility of a tunnel collapse; if the apocalypse actually started, there was not going to be any outrunning it. “Martin, if there’s any chance you’d join them—”

“Absolutely not.”

“I didn’t think so.” Jon paused. “I—I have to say the words. I’m pretty sure you don’t—”

“I don’t,” Martin said. He brought his hands up to his ears and closed his eyes.

What happened next happened quickly, or at least it felt that way to Martin. It wasn’t at all like he’d imagined it would be. He was waiting to feel the terror, the darkness, the heavy weight of the apocalypse; it never came. Instead, there was stillness and quiet and tension. When he looked again, Jon stood in front of him, just as he had before.

“Jon?”

“I’m still here,” Jon said, but Martin wasn’t sure he agreed. Jon was looking at him, yet looking through him at the same time.

“Is it—”

“Yes.”

“This—this isn’t like before.”

“No. This part—this wasn’t for us. It was for him. For Jonah.” Jon’s voice was even, his words controlled; he didn’t sound like himself. “This time it’s mine.”

“Jon—”

“Hey,” Tim shouted, and Martin was pretty sure it wasn’t the first time he had tried getting Jon’s attention. As he remembered they weren’t alone, he looked up. Something was happening; there was a faint shimmer from the edges of the tunnels, almost but not quite beyond his range of vision.

“I thought you would only have a moment,” Tim said.

“This is only a moment,” Jon replied.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re already gone. Everyone outside of—of here, they’re already gone. They’re safe.” Jon smiled, but it wasn’t his smile, not really. Martin liked Jon’s smile; he didn’t like this one. “Just as long as I can—”

“What do you mean, this is only a moment?” Tim repeated.

“I meant—that it’s only a moment.”

Martin knew what he was trying to say. “Time isn’t—it’s different, Tim. It’s different in here.”

“Yes,” Jon said.

“Jon.” Sasha was visibly fighting to keep the fear out of her voice. “Jon, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m—I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Martin said. “What’s happening?”

“It’s fine.” Jon was quiet; he sounded very far away.

“Come on,” Sasha said. “Jon, come on. Talk to us.”

“It’s—it’s getting harder now that—I can do it, though. Just—just give me—”

The shimmer Martin had seen at the edges of the tunnels was slipping closer now, moving toward them. A static hum began to rise, although he couldn’t trace it back to anything in particular.

“They’re already too weak to escape. I just need to—I just—”

“Jon, what’s happening?” Martin stepped closer to him. “Tell us.”

“I can—” Jon swallowed; as he did, the calmness in his voice wavered. “It feels like—”

“Jon, please.”

“It’s like—it’s like pieces of me are—oh god.”

“Jon, just—just hang on.”

“Martin, I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just—”

“I won’t be leaving here. When it’s done.”

The words didn’t hit Martin as hard as he thought they would. In fact, he realized, he had been expecting them. He felt something very much like relief, now that they had been said.

“Jon, don’t.” It was Tim who was angry. Martin wasn’t entirely surprised; he understood, not for the first time, that Tim would always choose anger. “Don’t just give in like that. Fight it.”

“I—I can’t. I’m not—this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Tim grimaced; Martin watched as he struggled, as he attempted to walk toward them, but he couldn’t.

“Martin,” he called out. “Come with us.”

Martin shook his head. “I’m staying with Jon.”

“No. You’re not.” Jon was working harder to get words out now. He seemed pained. “You can’t survive here. You’re not—listen to Tim. They’ll take care of you. You won’t be alone.”

“But you would be.” Unsure of whether Jon’s unfocused eyes could even see him, he took Jon’s hand. He wanted Jon to know he was there.

“Martin, don’t do this.” Tim called to him again. “Don’t be stupid. He’s—he’s gone.”

“If he’s gone, I am too.”

“Don’t make that choice.”

“You let Jon make his. I get to make mine.”

“Martin—”

Sasha put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Tim, I know it’s—it’s awful, but—he’s right. We can’t make him leave.”

“But it’s wrong. It’s the wrong choice.”

“That’s not your—”

“Jon,” Tim tried again. “Do something, make him—”

The shimmer grew brighter, closer; the static grew louder. Although he could no longer see where they had been standing, he was sure Tim and Sasha were gone.

“Did you just—”

“Yes. They’re safe now. Please, Martin—”

“Are you going to do that to me too? Just shove me off into the next dimension?”

“I—I can’t.”

“You tried?”

“Yes.”

“Jon, how—how could you?”

“I just want you to be all right.” Jon was gasping now. “You have to be all right.”

“Then come with me. You already said they’re too weak to leave. You’ve won.”

“Martin, there’s too much of me that—that’s them. It’s too much.”

“Could you leave? If you wanted to?”

“I—it’s not—” Jon panted between his words. “I deserve to be here.”

“Well then, you know the deal. I don’t know if this is coming from you or—or something else, but you’ve always known the deal. That’s it.”

“You can’t,” Jon said.

“I can. I am.”

“Martin, you’ll—you’ll die.”

“I don’t care. And until I do, I’ll be with you."

They stood together, locked in a battle of wills. Martin could feel the pull now, the draw of whatever place the rest of the world had gone to; he resisted it. The static was very loud now. He wondered how long Jon could last like this, how long he could keep the door open. He hoped it wasn’t much longer.

“Well. This is not going very well, is it?”

Martin couldn’t see anyone—he could barely see where he and Jon were standing anymore—but he knew that voice well enough.

“Ignore her,” Jon pleaded desperately. “Martin—ignore her.”

He intended to ignore her, he really did, but she had found some foothold in his mind, hiding inside the static, and he couldn’t displace her.

“He’s lying to you, Martin.” Annabelle’s voice filled his head. “Well, not lying, he’s never been very good at that—but hiding things, now that’s a different matter entirely.”

“Shut up.”

“You’ll have to forgive him; he truly is in a lot of pain. I can’t imagine what it must be like. Having to choose between two parts of yourself as they are literally being torn away from one another.”

Jon. He grasped tightly at the hand that he still held in his own; if there was any response, he couldn’t feel it. If Jon was talking to him, he couldn’t hear it.

“It will be over soon enough.”

“Go away.”

“I intend to. I just wanted you to know first that if you stay, part of you will survive. And he knows that.”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t know about it, of course; you wouldn’t be conscious of it. The Archivist is telling the truth, in as much as you couldn’t survive in a—well, traditional way. You’re not one of us. That’s probably a good thing for you. He’s just made things very messy.”

“Wait—I don’t understand—”

“Concentrate, Martin. I know it’s hard. There is a part of you—that part of you that is tangled up in the Archivist—that would survive. That part would stay here. With him.”

“What do you mean, with him?”

“We’re going to be here for a very, very long while, Martin. I don’t know if we’ll die—I don’t know if we can—but it is going to get quite lonely here for someone who was once a man. Are you listening?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Does it matter?”

Martin thought about it, or he tried to; the pull he felt was growing stronger, more insistent. Certainly, she wouldn’t be here if making sure he stayed if it weren’t in her own interests. He had already been set on it; there was more to it, for her to risk this kind of intervention.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? The realization settled on him; he believed her, and that was enough. He wouldn’t let Jon suffer that mindless torment alone if he didn’t have to. Whatever else that brought, whatever the consequences were—whatever Anabelle wasn’t saying—it wouldn’t change anything about his decision.

Although the static continued to rise, the pull of the other dimension seemed to weaken, become less. He didn’t know if it actually had—if Jon himself was finally weakening—or if Annabelle’s words had pushed him harder to resist it. Perhaps it was both.

“Martin.” Jon’s sudden, renewed grip on his hand was painful. “Look at me. Tell me where you are.”

His eyes were clear again; his voice was steady. At least I can say a proper goodbye, Martin thought.

“Jon. I’m—I’m here. I’m with you.”

“You need to go. Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you.” He smiled; he wanted Jon to know it was ok, although he didn’t have the words anymore.

“You don’t have to. I’m coming with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going. But you need to go first.”

“I—I don’t believe you.” The finality that Martin had felt, the peace of knowing it was over, that it was decided, began to give way to uncertainty. “You’re lying.”

“Martin—please. I’m not lying. I will follow you. I want to.”

“If you’re really going, just—just take me with you. Like you did last time.”

“I can’t.” Jon brought his palm to Martin’s face, and the rippling static subsided just a little. “I can’t. It’s—once I leave here, leave them, that bond between us, it’s—it’s broken. I can’t bring you with me. You have to go first.”

“Jon—"

“I’ve already let this go too long. Maybe, though—if you go now, we can still—”

It wasn’t fair. It was never fair. “I—”

“Martin—trust me. Please, just—just trust me.”

The buzz of static was wearing him down; it was too hard to think. He was tired. He was confused.

If he stayed, then Jon would stay too; Jon wouldn’t be alone.

If he left—

Trust me. Jon’s voice broke through the static.

Trust me. Martin wanted to; he always wanted to. It was just that—

Trust me.

“Ok.” The sobbing, panicked voice he heard didn’t feel like it belonged to him. “Ok.”

Jon’s forehead pressed against his. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Jon kissed him.

Martin closed his eyes; he made his choice.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

okay here we go. You come for my freinds because you cant come at me anymore. And thats not cool.

It has come to my attention that poeple have been all mixed up over what exactly happened between me an @thatdamncutegirl who i have just noticed has block me back.

Though i do hope she remebered to block me on the other three accounts she has made to bully and lie through the teeth through. @introverted-pervert @cavillry and @tanya-alina0044 😱😱 oh look she did! I wonder if it has something to do with the lies and shit she has caused.

Im writing this to show everyone just what this girl has done. The lengths she has gone to because i will not speak to her anymore. Im tagging my freinds the people i want to protect from her and her madness. @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @achaoticaugust @viking-raider @thelastsock @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @iloveyouyen @seedless-vascular @lunedelorient and i ask that each of you read this from beginning to end, and make your own judgment of it. i know it is long but i really really want you to see what all this drama has been about.

You make think i am being mean and out of order for nameing and shameing but please understand i have tried to keep quiet not once mentioning any names on my blog. I would not be doing this without good reason. She has attacked my most nearest and dearest because i kept silent. and i am not staying silent any more.

So i shall show you how this all started with screenshots.

These convosations may be triggering as they include mentions of suicide and emotional blackmail! if this triggers you then dont read your mental health means more to me then crazy drama!

(there are som graphic images that i have not posted as it would brake tumblrs guidlines, but i can confirm that she sent me a photo of her wrists scratched open but not bleeding which to me was more a cry for help then a suicide attempt)

by this point i had got angry, rightly or wrongly because this was the second time she had done this to me.

at this point she began pretented to be her mother, who was apparantly not alarmed to find her daughter blacked out and bleeding to death.

I will admit after this i ignored her untill the next day, i was angry she had done this after a few months of being so close to her, speaking everyday. she continued to apologize and i in my stupidity forgave her giving one final chance. and then she tried to blackmail me into being fine and dandy with her and it was the last straw and i blocked her. however i forgot to block her second blog. and she continued to send me messages. see below. above this part she asked why i blocked her and i said that i was tired of the lies.

(im so annoyed some of the screnshots are gone she began listing off all the times she’d tried stupid stuff to me and i lost my temper)

as you can see i had enough of this and had blocked her. then i got this the next morning.

this came as a shock so i did a little digging... and found these.

I do not believe in coincidence. It would seem she made another blog useing a name from one of her posts and the icon that sent her hate was the same icon from her new blog or maybe im just paranoid i will let you all be the judge of that. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

and then after i blocked the thrid blog i got this. a message asking for a request.

i fell for it but it was only after i thought about it, it didnt sound right, once again another coincidence. after i had blocked all four of her blogs i began hearing form a few others in the cavillry asking about it. She has used these new blogs to do the same thing to others and its not right. I have since managed to confim this was indeed her.

i am aware that she has been sending anon hate and trying to put her life on our minds. she is useing tumblr to bully us. I feel i have blocked her for the right reasons. i have been sent screenshots of asks and private messages that are all corroberating a story of her having a death in the family whch has set her off. but she forgets that she has been talking to me and we spoke of family to each other and never has she mentioned having a much younger sister. she is sending out threats and spewing hate to my other freinds saying that i am gunning for her. I dont have to gun for her because the evidence speaks for itself.

i have reported her accounts to tumblr for suicide, disingenuois behaviour, graphic content and bullying. i also know she has been repoted by a few others for these things too.

I am so upset over this and disgusted and all i can do no is apologize to you all that you’ve been pulled into this madness, i never meant for you to get hate or threats or be harrassed and i hope you can forgive me. I made this post to let everyone know exactly what i (and i suspect many others) have been dealing with over the past week or so. I hope that you dont think anyless of me from trying to protect you form this shit, but no one deserves this shit. I have been a fucking wreck and have been physically sick over it. im not here for this im here for smut and thirsting anf stories.

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flightfoot · 4 years

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I'm shocked that Mari doesn't get salted much considering she is the protagonist, and even if she is, it's always just a simple call out, a critics on her behavior. whereas whenever I saw Adrien or Alya salt, it's always being upped to eleven. It's not a simple call out or critics, they just being sent straight to punishment, deemed unworthy of forgiveness. I think the closest fic I've read that have Mari "salt fic" vibe is Truth and Consequence but it's not even salt fic. Curious since usually it's the protagonist that got salted a lot, not the deuteragonist or minor character.

She definitely gets salted in posts and comments and things, though I don’t see it that much on tumblr (not exactly something I go looking for though). But on reddit, instagram, youtube even I think? People have some pretty negative opinions about her.

As far as fanfics go... yeah I’ve seen only like, maybe ten total saltfics for Marinette on AO3 in the year and a half I’ve been in this fandom. And most of the ones I have seen don’t go as bonkers as the Adrien salt and Alya salt does on a regular basis. Heck, even the page on TvTropes for Fandom-Specific plots does not, as far as I can tell, list a single example of a Marinette saltfic plot.

I have been told that there were fanfics out there that treated her vilely in the past, even one popular one, as well as several fanfics that just made her kinda powerless while in the Marichat dynamic. I have not been able to verify this for myself however, though I have attempted it.

There certainly ARE a few very loud people on AO3 who hate Marinette’s guts, but they don’t tend to write a ton, and those sorts of stories aren’t very popular. When I was entering the fandom back in March 2019, I went through the top... 1000 fics I think on AO3? And only stumbled across maybe one or two that salted on Marinette, and even those it wasn’t like she was treated as irredeemable or punished beyond just being yelled at.

I’ve heard that part of the reason why Chameleon salt initially took off the way it did was because Marinette was salted (in comments and posts at least) by a lot of the fandom for a long time, and it was really mostly her that bore the brunt of it, rather than a ton of different characters. Then when Chameleon released a lot of people became very sympathetic to her, so it was a sort of backlash against the years of general dislike against her.

And theeeeen people took it way, way, WAY too far in ways that were absolutely disgusting, projecting the most heinous things onto the other characters (seriously where the hell did this notion come from that Alya would beat up or poison Marinette and destroy her things?! I haven’t even seen much justification for it beyond “well if she continues along this path this is an obvious conclusion of the sort of thing she’d do”, without anything to back that up.) and even making Marinette, whom the saltfics try to boost up, act in ways that frankly, made her a pretty despicable person in a lot of them, only somewhat mitigated by making everyone around her even worse. Though sometimes the fics don’t even do that and just have her like, abuse her power as class rep so she can get satisfaction out of setting it up so Adrien’s in close proximity to Lila as often as possible and delight in watching her sexually harass him, or try to get everyone arrested or fired or just generally take pleasure inflicting pain and suffering on her former friends while crowing about how they deserve it.

I reaaaaally don’t like Saltinette. Marinette wouldn’t either.

As for why Marinette bashing fics, the ones that go to the same extent as many of the saltfic plots that TvTropes lists, aren’t as popular (again, at least on AO3, though looking at FFN and Wattpad they didn’t seem super popular on there either. And PLEASE, if you want to direct me to where they’re popular, PLEASE don’t just say “they’re on this site”. I’ve gone to Wattpad and FFN. I’ve just found more of the saltfics TvTropes lists, not Marinette saltfics), I dunno. Demographics I guess? Maybe the people who hate Marinette’s guts aren’t as likely to read or write fanfics. Even the Marinette bashing fics I HAVE seen aren’t all that popular.

On the one hand, I’m glad she isn’t as often treated in as gross a manner in fanfics as Adrien, Alya, most of the class, a LOT of people in the show have been for the past... nearly two years now.

On the other hand, it’s easy for me to resent her with how almost all of this bashing is supposedly done for HER sake, often while making her into a horrible human being along the way.

I basically can only go to AO3 with filters on for the usual bashing tags, like “Adrien bashing”, “Alya bashing”, “Classmates bashing” and “Marinette Deserves Better” (and yes that is a bashing tag, if it’s used you can be pretty damn sure someone in that fic’s being bashed on Marinette’s behalf, and probably not only canonical antagonists).

Generally after that I have to rewatch some of Miraculous Ladybug or read some fics where everyone’s in-character to get the bad taste out of my mouth. Because in the show? it’s not like this. Not at all. Marinette can have a bad day sometimes, but it’s just the sort of bad day typical people might experience. She can be upset or unfair or petty, but at normal person - especially normal kid - levels. Sometimes she’s scolded, sometimes bad things happen as a consequence, but she’s never treated as some piece of scum. If she’s upset, her friends and family are there for her.

And Alya and Adrien? Sometimes they can be careless about what they do or say and irritate her. Sometimes their words or actions aren’t as helpful as they want them to be.

But they don’t want to hurt her, they care for her, ABOUT her. Nor would she ever want to hurt them or lose them, even if she was justifiably angry with them. We saw that with Chat Noir especially, during the NY special.

Marinette loves and cares about her friends and family, and they love and care for her back.

At least I can be pretty sure that whatever insane bashing and twisting of characters happens in the fandom, the show will continue to be nice to the characters, to treat them as people deserving of love and affection. Maybe saying they made a mistake when they didn’t, or letting stuff slide that would be nice to be addressed, but on the whole, allowing them to continue to just... be friends. Be people. Be kids.

#ask #fandom salt #ml fandom salt

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crookes-library · 3 years

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Fanfic Year in Review 2020

Tagged by the continuously wonderful @kirstenseas TY hun

1. List of fics completed this year:

I know what you did last night: The Untamed - WangXian

Seasons: TLK - Uhtred/Finan

We’re All Fools Here: TLK - Uhtred/Finan

Amber: TLK - Uhtred/Finan

What Would I Be: TLK - Uhtred/Finan

Echoes: TLK - Uhtred/Finan

Moon & Stars: TLK - Sihtric/Ealhswith & Sihtric/ Osferth

Osbert: TLK - Uhtred/Finan

The scent of you: TLK - Uhtred/Finan

& a bunch of Ficlets

Are we noticing a theme? Uhtred/Finan are just that special blend of best friends to lovers & old marrieds that makes me want to tear my face off so I will probably not ever stop writing them

2. Number of words written:

67,112 words published on AO3 & about 2.6k in tumblr prompts not to mention the scraps and notes I’ve got here there and everywhere which is more than I’ve written in like 8 or 9 years? I’m pretty damn happy about that tbh

3. Your most popular fic this year:

By far ‘I know what you did last night’ which I like to believe is cause its cute but also because its a much bigger fandom and a much more popular ship

My most popular TLK fic is ‘What Would I Be’

4. Your personal favourite this year:

This is difficult because there’s a few I’m fond of but I’d say its between Seasons and Osbert.

‘Seasons’ because it really kick-started my writing this year and I was really proud of it. It felt pretty true to the books and I enjoyed weaving in the little moments between Uhtred and Finan. I’ve debated messing with the end but I’m still very happy with it overall

‘Osbert’ because it came out of nowhere and just ended up so nice? It was originally going to just be a vent fic of Uhtred’s frustration at being injured/in pain and unable to do things he would normally do because at the time I started writing it I was commuting to work and the chronic pain I get from my hip dysplasia was flaring up real bad but then Finan just took over and decided Uhtred deserves all the softness like he so often does lol

Honourable mentions to The scent of you because it was super fun to write and The Bodyguard because I just enjoy the concept

5. Your favourite scene:

Little Stiorra threatening to fight Finan’s secret lover for his hand in marriage in Amber so she doesn’t have to marry any stinky boys. I love love love Stiorra, she’s my baby and Uhtred and Finan just having a quiet afternoon being fond dads gives me all the warm & fuzzies

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

Can I say all of them? Cause if so all of them, writing is hard and I am a very tired person who second/third/fourth-guesses every damn word

Mostly The Bodyguard though because its the first long fic that I’ve even attempted since like my ff.net days. I know what I’m doing with it/where I’m going but actually getting it all down is hard and slow going and I’m trying to forgive myself for that and not pressure myself and end up sucking out all the joy because I really do love it and I want to keep loving it

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

Cheating with a couple lines from What Would I Be because it was one of those middle of the night-can’t sleep-sudden inspiration-omg the gay yearning of it all-things that I just really liked.

Once the clean-up is done Finan finds him. There is an easiness in the way that Finan folds into his embrace, steady and familiar. Finan pokes at his ribs when they draw back. “You were worried,” Finan teased, eyes warm with amusement. “As if I’d waste the energy on your scrawny arse,” Uhtred scoffed. But Uhtred was worried, he was, he was, he is.

8. A comment that touched you:

I’m someone who reads and re-reads my AO3 inbox constantly whenever I’m feeling stuck or I’m having a Bad Brain day and I need the serotonin so its hard to pick one because I’m honestly touched by anyone who takes the time to comment but a special shout out to The Enablers and to @deespiegel because they’re all just so? lovely?? I wouldn’t have written half as much this past year without their encouragement

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

Uhtred Uhtred Uhtred ❤ I literally cannot emphasise enough how much he means to me and with S4 & the last book coming out I just fell so deeply back into my feels. Looking forward to the next book has gotten me through some really low points the last 13/14-ish years and what is fic if not an outlet for dealing with a story you love coming to an end? Also just the TLK books in general, BC has a terrible (brilliant) habit of writing the main character and his best friend as just super married in his books but Uhtred/Finan might actually be the craziest example yet of all his books that I’ve read. The last 2 books especially (Sword of Kings & War Lord), how is my little gay heart meant to handle knee touches and worrying and inside jokes and “Did he touch you?” HOW?? BC ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES

The Enablers have also been an endless source of inspiration and encouragement. I used to be such a fandom lurker, I was too awkward and shy to talk to anyone but now I have like actual fandom friends?!! And they’re just such amazing people?!! Cannot believe, they’ve really kept me going this past year ❤

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

The fact that I’ve written more than I have in absolutely forever and also committing to a long fic, its not done yet but just the fact that I’ve started is huuuuge for me

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

To finish The Bodyguard and just keep writing :)

I think all the enablers have already been tagged so anyone else who wants to do this have at!

PS Please make a new post if you do :)

#my writing #fandom #tag games #the last kingdom

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 33: Jon Prime

Martin breathed deeply, tilting his head back slightly and closing his eyes. “It smells like snow.”

“It’s a bit warm for that, fortunately.” Jon’s fingers laced through Martin’s, their palms pressed together. “Lessens the chance of frostbite.”

The Institute was closed until the new year, which meant Jon and Martin would be able to move about the Archives freely during the day, rather than only being able to come out at night, and Jon had spent much of the previous month attempting to remember where the cameras in the Institute proper were located so he could avoid them. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do, exactly, since he still hadn’t figured out how to safely dispose of the table, but he supposed he had nine uninterrupted days to figure it out.

For now, however, that was in the future. For now, they walked hand in hand down the streets along the Thames. The typical sounds of a London Saturday evening washed over them, punctuated by bells—the jingle of the bells on the harnesses of the horse-drawn carriages that capitalized on the Dickensian nostalgia, the steady clatter of the bell-ringers who stood on street corners and at shop fronts with their kettles asking for charity, and the gentle tolling of the steeple bells calling the faithful to Christmas Eve services. The sky was overcast, which meant their walk was lit only by street lamps rather than stars or the moon, but that was all right by Jon; there was enough light for him to see by, and he’d never been much of a stargazer. The air smelled crisp and cold—as Martin had said, it smelled of snow, but the air was too warm—and Jon could almost fool himself into thinking he smelled pine and cinnamon.

“I never asked you if you had any Christmas traditions,” he said. “I mean, not that there was ever much opportunity. That first Christmas we were all working in the Archives, I was still trying to be distant and acting like I hated you. The second year I was paranoid and obsessing over the tunnels and Gertrude’s murder, and…” He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the third year. Or the fourth.

“And that was the last Christmas you were aware of,” Martin supplied, squeezing Jon’s hand briefly. Jon gripped it tightly and refused to let him go. “Honestly, not really. When I was little, Granddad had a collection of Christmas poems we used to read together, and we’d sing a couple songs he’d learned as a boy, but I don’t know what happened to the book after he died. Mum used to go candlelight services on Christmas Eve, but…even when she let me go with her, I never got much out of them. I liked sitting out in the evenings and listening to the church bells, though.” A smile flitted across his face as another church tolled out its summons nearby. “How about you? Any Christmas traditions?”

“Not outside those dictated by policy,” Jon said, unable to hold back an exasperated smirk as he thought about the dreaded Institute Christmas party. God, he’d hated it even when he was a researcher, and it had been infinitely worse when he was a department head and supposed to be a presence. “Grandmother was…she’d been raised non-Christian. I think she observed the holidays for her husband when my father and his siblings were young, but after they were out of the house and Grandfather Sims died, she went back to the faith she’d been brought up in, as best she could, anyway. I was never sure what religion she belonged to, actually. She didn’t exactly practice it. I suppose she assumed that I was young enough not to really remember what Christmas and Easter and that sort of thing were like, so she never saw it as her duty to give me any of those traditions.”

“So I guess you were like me. The Christmas holidays were just a reason to be out of school.”

Jon hummed in agreement. “I strongly suspect this is mostly for Tim’s benefit. Possibly Sasha’s.”

Martin laughed. “I mean…if Tim had asked me, I’d have done Christmas with him that last year. But I think he was too upset to even acknowledge it, you know? Didn’t even change the background on his laptop to anything festive.”

Jon’s hand tightened in Martin’s again. Regret swirled through him. He hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to the significance of the dates, and he’d completely missed Tim—whom he’d always seen at his cheeriest around Christmas—practically ignoring the holiday. “I wish…there are a lot of things I wish I’d done differently. The way I treated Tim…the way our relationship deteriorated…that’s probably one of the biggest. That and the way I treated you. Watching our…counterparts do things better just makes it worse, honestly.”

“Because you can’t make it up to our Tim,” Martin guessed. “Jon, wherever he is…wherever he was, I’m sure he forgives you. Now, anyway. Now that he knows you didn’t—there’s blame on both sides. Same with you and me.”

Jon huffed. “No, there’s really not. You were nothing but polite to me—”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have respected me more if I’d stood up to you sooner.”

Jon had to admit, Martin was right, but he decided he only actually had to admit it to himself. “How would you know if I wasn’t looking you in the eye?”

Martin bumped Jon’s shoulder, but he was laughing at the same time. “Asshole.”

“I’ll cop to that.” Jon laughed, too.

It was a pleasant enough walk, serenaded by the bells and the occasional snippet of a Christmas carol. Martin swept his cane along in front of him, although he didn’t really need it with Jon holding his hand. Still, Jon could appreciate Martin’s desire to be as independent as he could be. Part of what made them work as a couple was that they could function on their own.

Jon and Martin hadn’t ventured out of the Institute in some weeks, certainly not since Daisy’s visit and Jonah’s tormenting of Past Martin, so he hadn’t seen what the decorations looked like. Past Jon hadn’t bothered to describe them, either, merely saying “they have to be seen to be believed”. Jon prepared for the worst as they came around the corner.

To his relief, things seemed…tasteful. Tim, Past Jon, and Past Martin lived on the end of a row of four terraced houses, identical save the trim, and he’d half expected to find it ablaze with colored lights and tinsel, but it was surprisingly subdued. There was a wreath on the front door and a plant of some kind—Jon presumed holly from a distance—hanging from the center of the frame, and handmade paper snowflakes plastered on each windowpane visible from the street, but that was it as far as decoration went. The reason became clear when they drew closer; while the house on the far end of the row had some garland and lights, dark at the moment, and the one next to it bore several blatantly Christian decorations, the one next door to the Archive crew’s home was undecorated entirely. Through the half-open curtains, Jon could see a shaking, age-spotted hand lighting the first of eight candles in a curved holder that looked like a long-cherished family heirloom.

Martin’s cane bumped against the low step leading up to the threshold, and Jon, who knew the drill by now, let Martin lean on his arm to steady himself as he stepped up. Jon steeled himself to reach for the knocker, then noticed a pearly button set next to the door. “Ah, they’ve installed a doorbell, excellent.”

He pressed it. He could faintly hear the chime, more of a clanging really, sort of like a ship’s bell. A moment later, the door opened, revealing Tim in all his festive glory. He wore a sweater that could not possibly feel good on his skin given the sheer tinsel-to-yarn ratio, a floppy sequined hat with a sparkling ball of fluff on one end covered his hair, and he’d traded out his usual discreet star-shaped stud for a dangling glitter-covered candy cane, but the bright grin splitting his face ear to ear outshone it all.

“Hey, you made it!” he cried happily.

Jon couldn’t help but grin. “Sorry we didn’t bring anything. Our oven was out of order.”

“Please. We’ve got enough baked goods made to last us until Easter.” Tim scoffed. “What’s important is that you came.”

“Tim. Did you really think we wouldn’t?”

Martin reached out and tentatively touched Tim’s arm. “Christmas is about family. If we’re really allowed to be part of yours, of course we’d be here.”

Tim’s eyes actually filled with tears, even as he smiled, and his breath hitched. “I’m going to hug you now.”

“Tha—” Martin began, but got no further before Tim lunged forward and wrapped him in a hug. He laughed and hugged him back, dropping his cane in the process, presumably so he didn’t accidentally goose Tim with it. It was a sight at once strange and familiar, but something about it tugged at Jon’s subconscious and he wasn’t sure what. All he could say with any certainty was that it looked different than the times he’d seen Tim hug Past Martin, and he had no idea why.

After a moment, Tim released Martin, then picked up his cane and pressed it into his hand before turning to give Jon a hug. Jon hadn’t hugged Tim—or Sasha, for that matter—except as part of a group hug, and then only once, so he wasn’t prepared for the renewal of long-forgotten, or at least long-buried, feelings of comfort and security that came from one of Tim’s missed-you-buddy hugs. Even as he hugged him back, he tried to hold himself as separate as he could. After all, he wasn’t Tim’s Jon and—

“Nope, not happening,” Tim said in his ear. “No guilt tonight. No anger, no fears, no death. No talking about the past or the future. Nothing about my eyes or your scars or any of that. All of that can wait. It’s Christmas, and it’s about family, and I’m going to stand here and hug you until you cancel your travel reservations for that guilt trip you’re starting on and fucking hug me back properly.”

Jon laughed. “You always did know how to say just the right thing at the right time,” he mumbled as he let himself sink into Tim’s embrace.

Tim tightened his arms. “There you go. Welcome home.” He clapped Jon on the back, then stepped back with a smile. “C’mon. Let’s get this party started.”

“As long as you don’t make us play Strip Charades again,” Martin teased.

Jon stumbled. “Again?”

The way both Martin and Tim laughed at his reaction told him they were just kidding. Probably. He hoped.

The front room of the house did hold all the garish, over-the-top decorations Jon had expected. Apart from what was presumably a Christmas tree under the glut of lights, tinsel, and ornaments, topped with a lopsided star that looked like it had been crafted by a glassblower with the hiccups, there was no part of the wall not covered in garland, ribbon, or something glittery. The coffee table was covered with neatly-arranged platters of every kind of biscuit imaginable, from brandy snaps to shortbreads to something soft and crazed and dusted with powdered sugar, while Sasha and Past Jon tried to shuffle things around to make room for a charcuterie plate. On every other available surface stood a jar candle, lit and emitting a pleasant, Christmas-themed scent, that all mingled together in a miasma that was just a tad overwhelming.

A portrait of an angel in bright tempera paint, with two sets of glitter-dusted handprints for wings, held pride of place on the wall. It looked like a child’s school project, and Jon was going to go closer to peer at the signature when Past Martin came into the room, bearing a tray loaded with six steaming mugs. “I don’t know where we’re going to put these, guys, but—oh, hey, you made it!”

Past Jon and Sasha looked up from their endeavors with broad smiles. Warmth bloomed in Jon’s chest at the relaxed, contented look on his counterpart’s face, and he swore again that he would do whatever it took to keep that look there. “Good Lord, you weren’t joking about the baked goods.”

“This isn’t even all of them. Just what we could fit on the table,” Past Jon said ruefully. “We’ll give you some to take back with you whenever you leave. You, too, Sasha.”

“Sit down,” Tim told them. “All of you. We’re not standing on ceremony. This is just…we’re just getting together, right? Baked goods, hot drinks, telling stories, maybe playing some games that don’t rely on being able to see?”

“Damn. I was looking forward to dominating you at ‘I Spy,’” Martin said with a straight face. Jon choked back a laugh.

Sasha perched in an armchair, her legs crossed beneath her as she took one of the mugs from Past Martin. Past Jon and Tim sat on the sofa, and Martin and Jon, as was their wont, took the loveseat. As Martin accepted a mug from the tray—Jon found himself continually delighted that they always made sure there was a mug with a distinct carving or detail to it so Martin would be able to tell his from the others if he set it down—he asked, “How was the Institute party this year?”

Jon hid his smile behind his own mug at the chorus of groans from the other four. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh, God.” Tim picked up a gingerbread man and bit its head off savagely.

“So first of all,” Sasha said, “there’s the usual bullshit that comes from an Institute event—namely, a bunch of upper-class old white men talking down to anyone who isn’t and a load of rich people expecting everyone to suck up to them—all of whom, I might add, we had to interact with because, between the CO2 system getting installed, the fire, the infestation, and the subsequent cleanup, not to mention the usual requisitions and expenses we had to deal with, the Archives apparently had the highest budget of all the departments this year, so we had to deal with the donors—��

“Hey, at least there were four of you to spread it around a bit,” Martin pointed out. “Our Tim and I had to do it all on our own. The Not-Sasha didn’t show and Jon left early after spending the entire time he was actually there in a corner nursing a glass of wine and hissing at people walking past.”

“I would like to register a protest about that description.” Jon rested his hand on Martin’s leg, and Martin covered it with his own. “Unfortunately, it would do me no good, because it’s accurate.”

Sasha giggled. Past Martin snorted. “Yeah, well, then you had that one guy who thought he was God’s gift to women. Half the female-coded people at the party spent the night trying to get away from him and the other half were practically dripping off of him, until he made the mistake of flirting with a married woman whose husband is apparently some sort of underground fighter. Who took it aboveground. There was punch everywhere, it was nuts.”

“At least that was towards the end of the night,” Tim added. “And made slightly more interesting by the fact that whoever was in charge of the music managed to find ‘Bad, Bad Leroy Brown’ and put it on in the background while it was going on.”

Past Jon sighed heavily. “You know, I think I would have been able to handle all of that if I hadn’t also had to deal with Elias. Bad enough having to pretend I don’t know what he is or what’s going on. Worse to have to pretend I didn’t know what he did to Martin.”

Past Martin blushed and looked down at his mug. Tim’s hand tightened on his own, but then he said evenly, “Hey, I already told them. We’re not talking about any of that heavy stuff tonight. This is a night for fun. We can vent about Elias fucking Bouchard on…Monday, ‘cause we’re not talking about it on Christmas either.”

“Yes, sir,” Past Jon said with a mocking salute. Tim kicked at him halfheartedly, but he was laughing, too.

The conversation did shift after that, thankfully. They nibbled at the biscuits and cheeses on the table as they talked about the best and worst Christmas parties they’d ever attended. Martin was attempting to describe the horror that had been Peter Lukas’ Institute shindig when the doorbell chimed. Past Jon looked up with a frown. “Who could that be at this hour? On Christmas Eve, no less?”

“I’ll get it.” Past Martin set his mug down and crossed over to the front door, then opened it.

“Here we come a-caroling—” The lone voice that started singing was high, young, and punctuated by the peculiar wobble caused by someone hopping from foot to foot on each downbeat while they sang.

“Charlie, where’s your coat?” Past Martin sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“It’s not so bad as long as I keep moving,” a child’s voice replied.

“Go home and put a coat on. Or at least a sweater.”

Past Jon rolled his eyes at Jon, but he was smiling fondly; Jon wasn’t sure if it was at Martin’s instinctive tendency to mother hen or at the idea of the child on the stoop. From the expressions on his and Tim’s faces, Jon suspected they’d had more interactions with Charlie beyond the initial one when he’d dropped off the casserole and cake the day they moved in.

Their expressions froze, however, when the child’s voice replied, “I can’t. Nan says I’m not allowed in the house by myself, so I have to stay outside until she gets home from midnight mass.”

“You didn’t go with her?” Past Martin asked.

“Oh, you know…” The child’s voice trailed away.

Past Jon was already up and moving towards the kitchen when Past Martin said, “Tell you what, why don’t you come inside and help us eat some of these biscuits? We can tell stories and sing some carols together until your nan gets back.”

“Will I be in the way?”

“Of course not. We’ve got plenty of room for you.”

“Well…okay.”

Past Martin stepped aside, then closed the door and ushered their new guest over. Jon gave a fleeting thought to how they were going to explain his and Martin’s presence, a thought that was swept aside as soon as he laid eyes on the child. He was no more than seven, still rounded with baby fat, and far too young to be left outside alone after dark. He was dressed in a shirt too thin for the weather, and despite his brave words outside he was shivering slightly as he got warm.

What left Jon breathless, however, was the fact that, save for his hair—which was a dark reddish-brown instead of bleached blonde—he was a dead ringer for Annabelle Cane.

Fortunately, Charlie—if that’s who he was—didn’t notice Jon’s face at first, or anything else about him. His attention was caught by the painting that had caught Jon’s eye upon entry, and his whole face lit up. “You really framed it?”

“I told you it was good enough to be in a museum,” Tim pointed out.

Charlie scuffed a shoe against the carpet. “Yeah, but I thought you were just saying that ‘cause you thought you were supposed to.”

“Tim never does anything he’s supposed to,” Past Jon called from the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Tim called back, but he was laughing.

Charlie giggled. It sounded like the usual innocent, impish laughter of a child, but Jon was on edge enough to be wary. Even knowing the entities didn’t usually like the fear of children, he was…worried. The Web, more than any other save perhaps the Dark, had a tendency to mark children, or so he’d gleaned from all the statements he’d consumed over the years, not to mention his own personal experience. Between his appearance, his name, and the fact that abuse and neglect could sometimes beget exactly the sort of survival tactics that would draw the attention of the Mother of Puppets, it was a risk, and Jon couldn’t help himself.

He reached out with his powers, just a little bit. He didn’t have Tim’s eyes, and he’d never quite understood how Elias saw and identified the marks, but he could, at the very least, sense if someone had a statement to feed the Eye. Even if it would be something the Eye found unappetizing or…unfinished, if Charlie had been touched by one of the fears, he would know.

Nothing. He almost gasped with relief. Charlie was a solitary child, starved for affection, certainly vulnerable to a surprising number of the entities as well as just ordinary horrible people, and aware in a way even Jon and Martin had never been at his age that his grandmother hated him—and his father had definitely been one of Annabelle’s brothers. But none of the fears had even started giving him attention. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Jon withdrew his mind and smiled, and in that instant, Charlie tore his attention away from the angel and caught sight of Jon and Martin sitting on the loveseat. “Oh! Hello. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You’re fine,” Jon assured him.

Past Martin patted Charlie’s shoulder. “Charlie, this is my cousin Kieran and his fiancé, Walter. And this is our friend Sasha, she works with us…guys, this is Charlie. He lives a couple doors down.”

“And he’s an amazing baker, too,” Tim added, sweeping a hand at the mass of plates on the table. “He helped us with all this.”

Suddenly, Jon understood why there were so many baked goods. “And a fine job he did of it. It’s wonderful to meet you, Charlie.”

“Good to meet you, too.” Charlie gave Jon a broad, gap-toothed smile, but his eyes were puzzled. “Are you Jon’s cousin, too? You look a lot like him.”

“Ah—not his cousin, but we are related,” Jon said, which was true enough to be getting on with. “I suppose ‘cousin’ works, though.”

“They’re visiting us for Christmas,” Past Martin explained, shooing Charlie towards the sofa. “Here, come have a seat…Kier, you were telling us about that work party that went south?”

“That was it, really,” Martin said. “I had to do most of the talking, but there wasn’t really a lot of talking to be done. Quietest office party I’ve ever been to.”

“Where do you work?” Charlie asked innocently as Past Jon came back with a mug for him.

“Oh, that was a couple years ago. I don’t work there anymore.” Martin tapped the corner of his eye. “I went blind earlier this year. But I used to be the personal assistant to a man named Peter Lukas.”

Charlie accepted his mug from Past Jon with a surprised thank-you and settled onto the sofa between Past Martin and Past Jon. “I’m sorry you went blind. Is it scary?”

“It was a little, at first, but I’m used to it now.” Martin squeezed Jon’s hand and directed a smile at him. “And I have the best support I could ask for.”

Jon smiled back. “I do what I can.”

Tim plied Charlie with sweets for a minute, effectively distracting him from asking Jon or Martin any more questions. He waited until Charlie was halfway through a florentine before he said casually, “I bet it’s not much fun at your grandmother’s church. Not on Christmas, anyway. Maybe sometimes it is, but if you have to sit still for a whole hour?”

“Oh, it’s more than an hour. It’s a long, long time. Nan won’t be back until very late,” Charlie said. “But there’s lots of music, and I love it when the lights are off and all the candles are lit and it’s quiet except for the chanting and singing and the organ playing. And I like listening to the stories and the messages.” He suddenly looked anxious as he looked up at Tim. “And I can sit still, honest. I’m very, very good in church.”

“I believe it,” Tim assured him quickly. “You’re good everywhere else, so why not in church?”

Charlie looked hopeful. “You really think so?”

Tim ruffled Charlie’s hair, making him giggle. “I sure do, buddy. Why didn’t you go with your grandmother this year?”

“Oh…” Charlie’s face fell, and he looked down into the mug in his hands. After a moment, he mumbled, “I’m not allowed to go back to church with Nan unless I stop being a boy.”

Two bright spots of color appeared in Tim’s cheeks, and he pressed his lips tightly together. The look Past Jon and Past Martin exchanged told Jon this was not a new and startling discovery for them like it was for him, but then, if they’d truly interacted with Charlie for a while, he’d probably told them something like this before. It still seemed to upset them, though.

“Is that your nan’s rule, or the church’s?” Martin asked, in the same tone he’d once used to ask Jon how many times he’d listened to the tapes after the Watcher’s Crown—gentle and patient, but with an undercurrent of worry and maybe a bit of anger that was being restrained so the questioned didn’t think it was directed at him. It brought back memories of those horrible—weeks? Months?—after the world ended, but also brought feelings of safety and security and love.

Charlie responded to it the same way Jon always had. He raised his head and gave him a look of mingled sorrow and trust. “Both. The teachers at church say God won’t recognize me if I’m a boy, and Nan says Mum and Dad wouldn’t either.”

“Well, that’s silly,” Jon said, trying to summon up the brusque and authoritative face he’d put on as the Archivist. “Anyone who doesn’t recognize you because you’re a boy isn’t someone who knows you, or loves you. You would know your parents no matter what they looked like, wouldn’t you? Even if you haven’t seen them in a while.”

“I—I think so.”

“Then they’ll know you, even though you didn’t tell them you were a boy the last time you saw them in person. And if they don’t, they don’t deserve to know you.”

“You can trust him, you know,” Sasha said sagely. “He knows everything in the world.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Really? Everything in the whole world?”

“Just about.” Jon decided not to go into the limitations of his abilities, or indeed what those abilities were. They weren’t important to the discussion.

Charlie studied Jon with a gravity far beyond his years. At last, he asked, “What’s her name?”

“Whose name?” Jon frowned. Had he missed part of the conversation?

“My—Mum said my sister was on the way. But something went wrong, and Nan said Mum and the baby both died. I never even got to meet her. If you know everything in the whole world, what’s my sister’s name?”

Jon hesitated. He wasn’t sure if that was actually something he could Know, considering there was a good chance everyone who knew the answer to that was dead. But he knew he had to try. And if he couldn’t come up with the answer, he wouldn’t lie. He wouldn’t. He reached out with the Eye, feeling the familiar crackle of static as he did so.

In the end, it was easier than he’d thought—just a matter of plucking the right information from the right heads. The date and location of Charlie’s mother’s death from his grandmother’s mind, a nurse who’d been in the room, a buried memory of a gasped-out conversation, and a startlingly clear pair of blue eyes meeting her mother’s before taking her last breath. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Athena Joy,” he answered.

Charlie looked at him, then smiled, too. “Athena Joy Cane is a pretty name.”

It effectively ended the serious part of the conversation, which was a relief. Instead, they started telling stories of Christmases they’d experienced when they were younger, which devolved into jokes and silly stories. Tim got up to refill everyone’s mugs at one point. He was gone for quite a while, and Jon would be prepared to swear he heard the kitchen door open at least twice, but he didn’t say anything. Not then. Instead, he simply accepted his refill and watched Tim settle back onto the sofa.

“Shame it’s so overcast,” he commented. “I took a peek outside, and it’s still cloudy. I love studying the sky on Christmas Eve.”

“Looking for Father Christmas?” Sasha teased.

“Ha, ha.” Tim stuck his tongue out at her. “No, I just like looking at the stars. I mean, I always like looking at the stars, but there’s something special about it on Christmas Eve.”

Past Martin looked wistful. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I used to sit and watch the stars while I listened to the bells. I could almost convince myself the stars were ringing, too.”

“What bells?” Sasha frowned.

“Church bells, mostly. I didn’t attend services or anything, it wasn’t—” Past Martin checked himself with a swift glance at Charlie. “I always felt like the message in the bells was more comforting.”

“‘The wrong shall fail, the right prevail’,” Martin said softly.

Jon looked over at Martin, struck by the words in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What was that?”

“It’s a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Someone put a tune to it later. Granddad taught it to us, remember?”

Past Martin opened his mouth, then memory lit up his eyes. “Oh, yeah! ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.’ Yeah, that makes sense, now I think about it.”

“How’s it go? Can you sing it?” Charlie asked around a mouthful of mint meltaway.

Jon expected Martin to prevaricate or enter a stammering denial. Certainly Past Martin blushed and opened his mouth to. But before anyone could say anything, Martin took a deep breath and began. “I heard the bells on Christmas Day their old, familiar carols play…”

Jon had only heard Martin sing a couple of times before—the time he’d sung to the little girl in the Archives, and when he’d sung along to the recordings while they helped the others set up the house—and the former he’d been barely audible and singing to entertain a child, while with the latter it had been a bit difficult to parse out what was Martin (or Past Martin) and what was actually on the recording. This was different. This was Martin alone and unaccompanied and singing a song he meant in a voice meant to be heard, and it was one of the purest, warmest, most beautiful things Jon had ever heard in his life, topped only by his name on Martin’s lips and the sound of him saying I love you.

It took until the third verse for Past Martin to finally join in, but when he did, it only added to the song. Jon let the words fill his mind as the music settled in his soul. They spoke at first of a message of despair, but then of hope, reminding the singer—the poet, really, Jon supposed—that hate wouldn’t, couldn’t, win in the end. That there was still a greater power out there.

When they finished, Charlie stared at them both with shining eyes. He wasn’t alone in that; both Tim and Past Jon looked as though their brains had short-circuited. Jon couldn’t blame them. Honestly, even he hadn’t known Martin had a voice like that.

“That,” Sasha said softly from her armchair, “was brilliant.”

“I like that song,” Charlie said. “Do you know any others?”

Past Martin blushed a flaming red, but Martin simply smiled. “Lots. What’s your favorite?”

It was the right thing to say, apparently, as Charlie launched into a song he liked that even Jon, who’d never really sung Christmas songs until he’d been in college and his friends had all but bullied him into it, knew all the words to. Sasha joined in, along with both Martins, and eventually Tim and Past Jon recovered enough to join in as well. They spent the next couple of hours interspersing songs with stories and poems, from the familiar to the obscure. Charlie’s enthusiasm was impossible to quash and even harder not to respond to.

Eventually, however, his eyelids flickered, and it was obvious he was forcing himself to stay awake. Sasha caught Past Martin’s eye and nods quickly at him; Past Martin nodded back and set his empty mug down. He ran his fingers through Charlie’s curls for a moment, then started to sing a song Jon had never heard before. “When the mountain touches the valley…”

Martin joined in with a soft harmony—or perhaps it was considered a counter-melody, Jon wasn’t quite sure—and it was another hauntingly beautiful song. Tim caught Jon’s eye and jerked his head towards the light switch; Jon nodded, slipped off the love seat, and turned off the main lights, leaving them bathed only in the glow of the candles and the Christmas tree as the Martins sang. By the time the song ended, Charlie was curled up in Past Martin’s lap, sound asleep.

“That worked surprisingly well,” Past Martin said, keeping his voice low.

“My God.” Past Jon’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Jon didn’t think it was to keep from waking Charlie.

Sasha snorted softly. “Seriously, why did you not study music in school, because that was fantastic.”

“I-I mean…I had to drop out,” Past Martin reminded her. “We needed the money. I was studying music before that.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jon said, startled. “How did I not ever know that?”

“Jon, you never asked,” Martin said, squeezing his hand. “We never really talked about college or anything like that. I dropped out, that was all we ever brought up. But yeah, I was in a music program. That woman, um, what was her name—the one that came up after the Christmas concert?”

Past Martin frowned. “God, I don’t…Mrs. Smith?”

“Yeah, her. The one that said she knew Granddad.” Martin sighed. “Anyway, she’s the one that suggested I audition for the program. Got in, too. But I was only a couple weeks into the first term when Mum got really bad and I had to drop out.”

Tim shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Martin.”

Past Martin blushed furiously. Sasha put her mug to her lips, but since she didn’t take a sip, Jon guessed it was to hide a grin. “If I’d known that, I’d have bought you some music books for your birthday or something.”

“Oh, I don’t—I don’t really sing anymore. Not like that. Just, you know, folk songs and that sort of thing. I was never all that great with the fancier stuff, really. I’m okay with choral stuff, but…” Past Martin trailed off.

Jon decided to spare him and change the subject. “I take it Charlie’s been spending a lot of his time over here? He seems…comfortable.”

“Yeah. His grandmother’s not the outgoing type, but she’ll have her bridge club over or a sewing club or something and he has to either stay in his room or go outside, so lately he’s been coming over here,” Tim answered. “He’s a good kid. And he likes us, too.”

“Jon’s his favorite,” Past Martin added with a teasing smile.

Jon looked pointedly at the little boy cuddled against Past Martin’s chest, relaxed and contented, with his fingers curled in one of the cables. “Are you sure about that?”

Past Jon gave a soft, shaky laugh. He still looked rather stunned, which, well, Jon couldn’t blame him. “Frankly, I think his favorite is ‘whoever is paying him attention at the moment.’ He’s well cared-for from a physical point of view, but…”

Jon understood. His grandmother had been much the same—resenting being asked to raise a child after her own were grown, mourning his father and constantly reminded of him every time she saw Jon, making sure he was fed and clothed and educated but never taking the time to get to know him. He imagined it would have been worse if she’d known he was queer, although he couldn’t be sure.

“He seems like a good lad,” he said. “Lucky thing he has the three of you.”

All three of them seemed embarrassed by that. Sasha didn’t even try to hide her grin this time. “Suppose his grandmother will think to look over here for him if she gets back and he’s not at home.”

“If she doesn’t think of it herself, I left her a note,” Tim said.

“I thought I heard the kitchen door,” Jon said, raising an eyebrow.

Tim ignored him. “I said we’d keep him until the morning if she gets back too late. Frankly, I wouldn’t send him back at all if I didn’t have to, but…”

“No, me, either.” Past Martin got carefully to his feet, cradling Charlie in his arms; the boy’s head flopped onto Past Martin’s shoulder as he nestled against him in his sleep. “I’m going to go tuck him in, at least for a bit. Be right back.”

Past Jon watched him leave the room with an expression that felt familiar to Jon. He brought Martin’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently. “All that goes to prove I’m right, you know. You’re going to make an excellent father someday, Martin.”

Martin laughed softly. “Thanks. I think.”

Past Martin came back into the living room and took his seat. Tim and Past Jon leaned into him from either side, and the six of them just sat together for a bit longer in silence as the candle flames flickered and the lights on the tree twinkled.

Finally, Tim started singing, his voice low and rumbling, a Christmas song Jon was mostly familiar with. Past Martin joined in, then Martin, until all of them were singing along as the world turned on and the clock ticked over to midnight and Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day.

And for a little while, Jon felt completely at peace.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #implied transphobia #implied emotional abuse #death mention #child death mention

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kmomof4 · 4 years

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Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates Ch. 2 Emma

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Y’all’s reaction to the last chapter was everything that this writer’s heart could have asked for!! HUGE INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU ALL!!!

TREMENDOUS love and thanks and all the good things I can possibly give to @profdanglaisstuff for her beta services, @hollyethecurious for her encouragement and listening to me whine, the CSSNS and CSMM discord ladies for their encouragement and help with the title, and to @spartanguard for her PERFECT artwork!!!

Chapter Summary: Today we meet Emma for the first time, in 1650 London.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: 4.4K of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Love’s Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

1650 London

With a final agonized scream, the raven haired woman collapsed against the pillows piled at the head of the bed as the cries of a newborn filled the room. Granny smiled down at the scrunched up face she held in her hands. The rest of the child’s body followed. “It’s a girl, Mary Margaret.”

The young woman laughed weakly as Granny held her daughter up for her to see. “You were right, Granny,” she breathed.

“Well of course, I was right,” she replied, indignant. With quick, efficient movements Granny cleaned the baby up and wrapped her in a soft blanket that she had just finished crocheting a few days before. “That charm has been handed down in my family for generations and it’s never been wrong.”

The strong blonde man who had been waiting outside came running into the room just as the old midwife handed a small bundle wrapped in the white blanket to the exhausted but smiling woman reclined against the pillows. Making his way over to the bed, he placed a tender kiss on her temple. He reached around her shoulders to draw her into his side and looked down into the cloudy gray eyes that stared back at him. “It’s a girl, David,” his wife whispered, smiling up at him.

Granny’s normally no nonsense exterior melted at the sight of the young family as she took in the tender moment. Mary Margaret sat reclined on the bed with her husband’s arm around her as he stroked the crown of the nursing baby.

“Oh look,” whispered David in surprise, “Look at the birthmark. On her neck.”

“It looks like a swan in flight,” Granny said, nodding. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a birthmark with as clear a shape as that.”

Mary Margaret raised herself slightly from the pillow to look down at her daughter before flopping back again, her eyes glazing over with weariness. “Wow,” she said on a breathy exhale as she lost her battle with fatigue.

“Certainly appropriate, with our name.” David chuckled then leaned in and again kissed his wife’s temple. “Thank you for everything Granny. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Granny scoffed, waving aside his sentiment. “You would have been fine, David,” she asserted, “You’ve got yourself a fine, strong woman there and a good, level head on your shoulders. You would have figured out something.” She came closer and watched fondly as the baby continued to suckle, oblivious to her worn out mother. “Now, the room is yours for as long as you need it.” She waved away his objection just as he was opening his mouth. “David, I have work for you that will more than adequately compensate me for your room and board. Mary Margaret needs to rest. It’s no easy feat to bring a child into this world.” She turned her attention to the dozing woman. “See?” she questioned him. “She’ll need to stay right there taking care of this little one for several days, at least. Once she’s up and around, I can use her too. I’m getting too old for this, and Ruby isn’t old enough to take over for me.”

David closed his mouth, stunned, as he realized exactly what Granny was offering him and his family. “Are you saying that we can stay here? Permanently?” he asked, incredulous.

“Of course, I am,” the matronly woman acknowledged with a smile. “Harold, God rest his soul, would never forgive me if I put your family out on the streets. Especially this little one.” She bent down and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead.

David’s shoulders slumped in relief and acceptance. “Thank you, Granny,” his voice caught with emotion, “I can’t tell you how much that means.”

“You just take care of your family,” the old woman gruffed, “That is payment enough.”

Granny looked fondly at the sleeping mother and baby before slipping out of the room.

~*~*~

Pirate captain Killian Jones entered his cabin, weariness hanging about him like a cloak. It was the first time in three days that he had seen the inside of his quarters. Ever since a storm the likes of which he had never seen came upon the ship that he had called home ever since Rumplestiltskin had murdered his brother and turned him into the cursed creature he was now. He had little doubt that the monster was behind the storm. The suddenness with which it blew up and the ferocity he and his men had battled for days all spoke to the magical, dark magical, attributes of the storm. Ever since Rumplestiltskin left him alone on the floor of this very cabin over 60 years before, he had delighted in returning every so often, taunting and tormenting him. The only reason Killian could come up with is that the monster just wanted to remind him of their connection and that, so far, he had failed in his vow to destroy him.

They had now, finally, left the storm behind them. Killian stripped down to just his leather pants, hanging his coat, waistcoat, and shirt on various furnishings in the cabin to dry. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled off his boots and socks. Once he sufficiently dried himself, he pulled down his logbook to record the battle with the storm. As he flipped to the next empty page, his eyes and thoughts skimmed over previous entries covering many years.

The attempt, at first, to hide his new nature from his crew, until the overwhelming bloodlust took over and he attacked and killed one of his men.

The mutiny that was spawned because of his lack of control. When faced with the anger, and yes, fear, of his once loyal crew, Killian’s rage at his helplessness against his fate and their perceived audacity completely filled him until he attacked them, leaving the entire crew dead at his feet.

Killian sneered as the next entry and memory paraded itself across his mind’s eye. Watching from afar as his parents frantically searched for not only their beloved sons, but also the Blue Fairy. He would assume, given her magic, that she was aware of what had happened to him and his brother. She apparently couldn’t reveal to the king and queen just how utterly and completely she had failed in her duty to protect the family from Rumpelstiltskin. So when she left their presence and saw what had happened to Liam and Killian, she disappeared as well.

Finally gaining enough control over the bloodlust that he was able to take on a new crew.

The ensuing decades that were his darkest, both as a pirate and as a vampire. He refused to feed on his crew, that could get expensive quickly, but his own self-loathing and impotence in the face of his nature were enough to unleash the, literally, bloodthirsty pirate that was always just under the surface, the bloodlust licking at his veins. When they captured merchant ships, Killian led his crew in wholesale slaughter, gorging himself on the still warm blood of their adversaries, as his men transferred the loot to the Jolly. Once he was sated, he used his powers of compulsion and persuasion to make his crew believe that when they were dumping the drained corpses overboard, they were simply disposing of rotted food.

Watching as his parents grew old with no heir until they passed and the throne went to the son of Brennan’s younger brother.

Finally turning to the last entry, his eyes drifted over lines that he knew he didn’t write.

The Dark’s minion’s downfall is foretold

When True Love’s Kiss doth unfold

Between soulmates unbound by time

The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan

Their True Love will break the hold

And Dark magic will be no more.

Killian’s brows furrowed as he read the lines again. Dark’s minion? Dark magic no more? Is it talking about Rumplestiltskin? The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan? Soulmates? What does all this mean? The confusion he felt as he pored over the words yet again continued to grow. Who wrote this? How did it get here? Would one of my crew dare to enter my cabin without my knowledge and permission, much less write in my logbook?

His last entry was from three days before. So someone had made this entry at some point during the storm. But no matter how many times he read the words or tried to figure out answers to his questions, he couldn’t make any sense of the entry in his journal. Shaking his head, he determined to put it out of his mind and concentrate on the recording of the storm.

Many hours later, while Captain Killian Jones slept, the Blue Fairy materialized in the cabin and waved her wand over the sleeping man. With the white magic that settled on him, she knew that when he woke, he would have no memory of the prophecy recorded in his journal. Not until the proper time. Not until the blue eyed prince met his golden haired Swan.

~*~*~

Killian Jones entered the inn and stamped his nearly frozen feet on the threshold as he shivered under his traveling cloak. Anger licked his veins as he made his way over to the blazing fire in the hearth to warm himself after his trek from the London Pool where his ship was docked. He was chasing down a lead that was supposed to give him information on a possible way to destroy Rumplestiltskin. Whispers and rumors had reached him about an instrument that might be capable of killing the monster and freeing him from the Darkness that coursed through him. Unfortunately, that lead had proved fruitless.

A young woman with sunshine in her hair hurried over to him at the hearth with a pint of ale. “May I take your cloak, sir,” she asked.

“Aye, lass,” he replied. “Thank you.” Too distracted to take real notice of the young woman, he handed her his cloak and sat down at a nearby table. She returned moments later with a bowl of hot stew that smelled divine. The months at a time being out to sea made fresh, hot food all the more welcome when making port.

He looked up into the girl’s face and was captivated by the green eyes that skittered away from his once he caught them. As she turned away from him and headed back towards the kitchen, something came over him. Something that he hadn’t experienced in decades. The bloodlust that he had under control for over 70 years completely took him by surprise. He felt his fangs snap into place and a red haze descended over his sight, telling him that his pupils were red as blood. He bowed his head toward his meal until he had himself under control again, eyes blue as the summer sky and fangs retracted.

He looked up again and scanned the room he found himself in. Just like every other tavern he’d ever frequented, he found a large and cheerful hearth keeping the frigid cold of the freak London snowstorm at bay. Over to his left, he saw stairs leading up to the rooms for rent for weary travelers. The door opened again with more pushing their way through, seeking the warmth the inn offered. To the right of the door, the counter with the kitchen behind was bustling with the girl going back and forth between the counter and the blonde man behind it and the tables that the newcomers settled at.

Unfortunately, they had settled only a single table away from him and every time the girl came to attend to them, the bloodlust washed over him again. He concentrated even harder on the meal set before him, wrestling himself back under control when she approached him again.

“Is everything alright, sir,” she asked, “Would you like some fresh bread to go with the stew? Granny is just taking some out of the oven…” she trailed away as his eyes met hers again. He was gratified to see that there was nothing but curiosity and openness in her gaze. He had obviously been successful in keeping his true nature hidden from her.

“Aye, lass,” he answered her, “that would be lovely.” She turned away from him and as she did, he noticed the swan birthmark on her neck. A swan in flight.

The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan

A completely forgotten line from a completely forgotten journal entry he had found many years ago. Could this girl be the golden haired Swan? And he could only conclude that he must be the blue eyed prince. He sat, completely gobsmacked as he watched the girl approach his table again with several hunks of freshly baked bread on the tray she carried. She stopped at the other occupied tables, lightening her load every time, before she carried on toward him. Arriving, he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale, noting the aroma of the bread as well as the scent of her, just to make sure that the bloodlust was firmly back under his control.

“Thank you again, lass,” he drawled. “Please conduct my sincere compliments to the cook of this delicious meal. Whom should I speak to about procuring lodging for the night? I’m not inclined to go back out into that until it clears up a bit.”

Her eyes shot toward the door as it swung open yet again, letting in the largest crowd yet, along with the blustery wind and snow. “That is very true, sir,” she acknowledged. “The weather is fit for neither man nor beast. My father is behind the counter. He’s the one you should speak to.”

“Thank you. I shall do that as soon as I finish my meal,” he declared, tucking into the food before him yet again.

He used the last bite of bread to soak up the last of the broth from the stew before rising from his table and making his way toward the counter with the blonde man behind it. “Good evening, sir,” Killian called as he approached.

“Good evening,” the man replied. “I hope you enjoyed my wife’s stew and Granny’s bread.”

“Undoubtedly, sir,” he rejoined, “It’s been many a month since I’ve partaken of a meal as satisfying as the one I just enjoyed.” He leaned across the counter with his hand extended toward the man. “Captain Killian Jones.”

“Ah,” the man exclaimed, taking Killian’s outstretched hand. “I wondered if perhaps you were a seafaring man. David Swan. How else may I help you?”

It was all he could do to keep his face from showing his complete and utter surprise at the confirmation of his earlier thoughts. “A pleasure to meet you, David,” he answered, pointing back toward the door of the inn. “I’d rather prefer to not have to leave until the weather clears up. Might you have a room available until it does?”

“We do indeed,” he affirmed. “Emma?”

“Yes, Papa,” the girl answered, approaching the counter again.

“Would you please see that room 2 is ready for Captain Jones here,” he asked his daughter.

Killian reached out toward Emma, palm up, in a gesture of invitation. She lay her own hand in his own before he lifted it to place a small kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you for the excellent service and meal tonight, Miss Emma. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yours as well, Captain,” she replied, with a slight curtsey, “I’ll just go see to your room. I’ll return shortly.”

Killian watched her walk away, his thoughts in complete turmoil. Shaking his head and returning his attention to her father, he scratched behind his ear as he took in David’s broad smile. “She’s nearly sixteen and would make a fine wife for a sea captain before too much longer.” David answered his unasked question.

Scratching furiously in nervousness, Killian repeated, “So, she’s 15, hmm?” He swallowed around the sizable lump in his throat as a petite black haired woman whose temples were just dusted with frost joined them at the counter.

She turned her eyes upon David with a slight reprimand in them before turning her gaze upon Killian. Green, just like Emma’s. Must be her mother. Killian extended his hand toward the woman, just as he had moments before with the young woman. Brushing his lips across her knuckles, he introduced himself again. “Captain Killian Jones, milady, at your service.”

“My wife, and Emma’s mother, Mary Margaret Swan,” David introduced them.

“It’s my honor,” Killian murmured, sincerely. “If I’m not mistaken, I have you to thank for the stew I partook of this evening?”

Mary Margaret’s cheeks tinged a light pink. “Oh, it was nothing, Captain,” she deflected, “I’m so pleased you enjoyed it.”

“I truly did,” he affirmed. “I was just telling your husband that after many months at sea, a hot, fresh meal is greatly appreciated.”

Emma approached the counter again. “Your room is ready, Captain Jones. If you’ll follow me please.”

With a slight bow to David and Mary Margaret and wishes from both sides for a pleasant evening, Killian followed Emma to his room.

~*~*~

It was nearly a fortnight later before the snow had melted enough for Killian to leave the inn. During the time he had spent with them, he had become quite good friends with the Swan family. He was careful to keep the rapidity with which he was losing his head over Emma hidden as he became her constant companion in her leisure time. Which admittedly, wasn’t much. David and Mary Margaret didn’t have any objection to his obvious affinity for their daughter, and he had even managed to win over the matriarch of the family, Granny. Being in such close quarters with Emma was an exercise in self control such that he had never had to endure before. But, in the end, he had been successful in keeping his true nature from the happy family. The puzzling questions concerning the journal entry still plagued him, but he thought that perhaps, with his new certainty of who Emma was, he might be able to figure out what the rest of it meant.

Entering his cabin, Killian immediately pulled down his logbook and flipped to the page containing the riddle. He hadn’t thought of it since the evening after the storm, fifteen years before. Right about the time Emma would have been born, he thought. But upon seeing her birthmark and introducing himself to David, it had never been far from his mind. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to recall most of the words, so as soon as the snow was melted sufficiently, he rushed to the Jolly to look at the journal again.

The Dark’s minion’s downfall is foretold

When True Love’s Kiss doth unfold

Between soulmates unbound by time

The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan

Their True Love will break the hold

And Dark magic will be no more.

Killian stared at the words before him, wrestling with them in his mind, trying to make sense out of them.

The Dark’s minion’s downfall is foretold

Foretold, that means prophecy. The Dark. The Darkness? The Darkness that makes him, makes me, what I am? The Dark’s minion? If the Darkness is what makes us, then Rumplestiltskin must be its minion. Downfall is foretold. He will fall when True Love’s Kiss occurs between soulmates, the blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan. Me and Emma. Unbound by time. What does that mean? Killian shook his head. He hadn’t a clue. Their True Love will break the hold and Dark magic will be no more. That sounds like True Love’s Kiss between me and Emma will destroy the Darkness. Then Rumplestiltskin can be destroyed. A sinister smile broke across his face. At last our tales will again intertwine. Revenge will be mine.

He could feel the anger and hatred rising within him, nearly triggering a blood frenzy within him. There was no way he could return to the inn with the bloodlust this close to the surface. He closed his eyes and willed himself back under control. He needed to get word to his crew and get as far away from here as he could. If Emma was his True Love, and the two of them were needed to destroy the Darkness and Rumplestiltskin, he had to get as far away from Emma as possible if he wanted to keep her and her family safe. If Rumplestiltskin were to find out about her, find out about her family, he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy them. He had to keep her safe. Safe from him. And safe from him. He’d come back for brief visits in the future, until she was a little bit older and ready for him to court and marry her. A sudden certainty came over him that if he wanted to court her, if he wanted to be worthy of her, his days of slaughter on the high seas and persuasion and compulsion on his crew were at an end. He couldn’t continue to take their free will from them as his sire had taken his. Satisfied with his plans, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and began penning a missive to Emma and her family.

~*~*~

Six months later

Killian made his way through the streets of London with an arm raised to his face, trying to block the putrid smell that came from the devastating effects of the Black Death that was ravaging the continent and had made its way to England’s shores. He could only hope and pray that Emma and her family had not suffered any loss due to the epidemic. The heat mingled with the stench of death made for a rancid bouquet that was causing his last meal to roll within him, wanting to revolt. He finally reached the inn and made his way inside. Getting out of the blazing heat of the sun overhead and the stink from the rampant disease was such a relief, that he wanted to weep. But before he could collapse, his eyes caught the gaze of his friend behind the counter. A gaze that held unspeakable despair and immense pain. Killian’s greeting and smile died on his lips before he could utter a word.

He knew his Swan’s family had not been spared.

Emma’s birthday had come and gone while he’d been at sea, and he now felt that the time was right to formally court her and make her his bride.

That hope for the future was shattered, however when David’s head slowly shook from side to side. He knew who Killian would be most anxious to see upon his arrival, but it was plain to see that he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words. David came around the counter to embrace his friend. A wail of misery that came from the depths of his being threatened to consume him, but he clenched his jaw against it.

“When?” he gritted out.

“Nine days.” David’s voice broke on a whisper. Drawing away from him, Killian tried to curl himself into a ball as the wail continued to try and break free.

David reached around his shoulders and drew him upright again as he led him toward the back of the inn. Pushing through the door back into the heat, dizziness overtook him as he looked at the three graves just a few feet from the door.

“Granny went first. She died in April,” David choked out. “We thought that we’d been spared, since no one else came down with it right away.” Killian could feel the blood tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He kept his focus on the ground before him as David continued to speak. “Mary Margaret became ill seventeen days ago, and almost the same hour that I lost her, Emma was stricken. I couldn’t bear to leave my beautiful Mary Margaret to decay, so I dug her grave next to Granny. Granny was the only mother my Mary Margaret ever knew.”

Killian chanced a brief glance at the grieving man beside him. The anguish painted there, left his skin with a grey pallor.

“Did I ever tell you our story?” David pressed on, without waiting for his answer. “I came from a family of shepherds. My mother passed when my youngest sister was born. I was seven. Mary Margaret lived in the nearby village and had always been kind to me when I came into town. But the man she called Father, was the most despicable of men. He was a slave to drink. Never satisfied with the work she did to maintain their household, constantly harassing her, beating her for no reason. She had finally worked up the courage to leave his house when he collapsed with wracking coughs. He was dead within days. She was sixteen. For some reason, she came to me. I could never understand why. She said it was because I made her feel safe. That when he would beat her, she’d picture my face and she’d be able to endure it.” He paused, shaking his head. “But, why me? Wouldn’t anyone else have helped her? I didn’t do anything anybody else wouldn’t have done…” He shook himself from his rambling memories and continued their story. “After knowing each other most of our lives, it didn’t take us long to fall in love. When we couldn’t hide Mary Margaret’s pregnancy anymore, my father kicked us out. We came to London to try to find a better life and Granny took us in. Only three weeks before Emma was born. Granny delivered her. It seemed only fitting that they should all be together in death.”

David fell silent. Killian could no longer hold back his tears. He collapsed to the ground, desperate to hide his face and the blood pouring down his cheeks from his friend, gasping sobs breaking free. David stood beside him, silent tears coursing down his own cheeks, letting Killian’s grief find a safe outlet that wouldn’t be contained or interrupted. When the barking sobs subsided to quiet weeping, David patted his friend on the shoulder.

“I’ll go prepare your room. Stay out here as long as you need.” He turned toward the door and disappeared inside.

Finally alone, Killian raised his blood streaked face to look at the graves before him. His golden haired Swan was gone. The woman he loved, his soulmate, was gone. What am I going to do now?

#CSSNS20 #krystal writes #of darkness vampires and soulmates #ch2 #art by spartanguard

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ineffably-effable · 5 years

Text

further good omens fic recs

It’s been awhile since my last reclist post so here goes, please enjoy the rewards of my complete lack of self-control when it comes to this ship.

Please reach out if I’ve missed a tumblr tag, or drop a note if you have any recommendations I’ve missed! ( 31 recommendations underneath the cut )

(51k) Acts of Service by seekwill / @jasmine-cottage-uk

After receiving direct instruction from God, village reverend Aziraphale leaves his countryside congregation to serve the underserved and in-need at an urban church in London, a transition made all the more complicated by the mysterious and handsome Crowley, who always seems to appear when Aziraphale least expects him.

mood: pining, denial, secrets, idiots-in-love.

(Warning: Don’t start reading this one at midnight expecting to put it down. Learn from my mistakes.)

(44k) Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900 / @improbabledreams900

Crowley from an evil!au swaps places with our Crowley.

mood: butterfly effect, identity theft, Aziraphale!whump, badass!Aziraphale

(40k) The Strong Tower by BuggreAlleThis

After the failed executions, a vengeful angel takes it upon herself to neutralise the threat presented by Crowley and Aziraphale.

mood: aziraphale!whump, protective!crowley, hurt/comfort, pining and fantastic world building.

(23k) You Might Think I'm Crazy (All I Want is You) by soft_october / @soft-october-night

Since the next shop over closed down, Aziraphale's had a peaceful few months, barring those unpleasant interactions with the men in cheap suits who keep trying to persuade him to sell his shop. But now a (handsome) new owner has taken up residence beside him and, horror of horrors, he wants to open up a coffee shop.

mood: fledgling friendships, obviously-in-love-to-everyone-but-themselves, almost-letting-your-doubts-and-insecurities-ruin-things, if-only-these-dumb-bastards-knew-how-to-communicate

(23k) names in history by lagaudiere

Maybe he’d shown Crowley how to perform a few miracles, but that Crowley had taken to them so well was surely a sign that he wasn’t all bad. And maybe Aziraphale had let himself be called upon to perform a few temptations, but that was just testing the will of the faithful if you looked at it from a different angle.

mood: slow-burn, through-the-ages, beautifully written.

(22k) This Soul Outstreaming by Rend_Herring

Aziraphale constructs intricate rituals to touch the skin of other men (by “men” I mean Crowley).

mood: slow-burn, through-the-ages, forbidden love, UST, beautifully written.

(29k) 5 Times Aziraphale was Almost Discorporated and One Time He Actually was by charliebrown1234 / @charliebrown1234

What it says on the tin.

mood: Aziraphale!whump through the ages, protective Crowley, hurt/comfort, wonderful characterizations.

(20k) In Pleasure's Clothes by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons

Three Times Aziraphale Stalked Crowley In Gay Clubs And One Time He Moped At Wilde’s Grave.

mood: jealousy, pining, miscommunications, idiots-in-love

(18k) Soft (A Love Story in Three Bites) by mia_ugly / @mia-ugly

Crowley was an angel, once. Before she fell. Aziraphale was a warrior (she fell too. It just took a little longer.)

mood: ineffable wives thoughtfully done and beautifully written, pining, emotional vulnerability, hurting the ones you love, references to gothic romances that absolutely slay me, switching POVs between Aziraphale and Crowley.

(18k) On Earth as it is in Heaven by JMA

Aziraphale was at Crowley's trial...the first one.

For six thousand years Aziraphale felt like an angel who has fallen, waiting for Heaven to realise. His fear and doubt has shaped and defined him. Now, with the Armageddon over and Heaven and Hell off their backs it is finally time to come clean.

mood: betrayal, pining, misguided attempts at atonement, miscommunication and forgiveness

(15k) Through Every Door by darlingred1 / @darlingred1

After thwarting the end of the world, Aziraphale begins to avoid Crowley, and Crowley accidentally awakens his own repressed lust.

mood: mutually-pining-idiots, miscommunication, immortal-beings-taking-turns-with-their-single-brain-cell, surprisingly-Crowley-has-first-dibs

(16k) Least of All by stereobone / @stereobone

Every so often, Crowley talks to God.

mood: Crowley worrying after Aziraphale through the ages. Beautifully written, fantastic Crowley perspective.

(14k) Wine Fraud and Other Worthy Pursuits by ImprobableDreams900 / @improbabledreams900

When Aziraphale, rare book dealer and part-time wine collector, encounters a bottle of 1844 Château Lafite-Rothschild he suspects isn't all that it claims, he becomes determined to track down the truth.

Unfortunately, the finger of suspicion seems to point at fellow wine collector Anthony J. Crowley, whom Aziraphale is already well on his way to befriending.

mood: suspicious Aziraphale and fledgling friendships

(12k) Laugh When It Sinks In by Tenoko1 / @tenoko1

Crowley stopped them in their trek, slipping his arm from Aziraphale’s grasp to face him, hands on his shoulders. “Are you sure you’re alright? A-are you having, like, a mid-life crisis or something now that Heaven’s cut you loose? You’re worrying me. What’s next? Cherry red sports car?”

mood: making a home for yourself and your charmingly oblivious life partner

(10k) The Original Bar Joke by deathbycoldopen / @deathbycoldopen

The way Crowley saw things, it was all one big joke, with him as the punchline.

mood: drunk!pining, idiots-in-love, jealous!Crowley, straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back moments, drunk!confessions

(8k) did you open up your heart there? by weatheredlaw / @weatheredlaw

Aziraphale and Crowley meet over and over and over again. Aziraphale doesn't know what Crowley is, or why their souls can't seem to be parted, but he is a creature of love, and he's not going to argue with that.

mood: ready to have your heart broken over and over and over?

(7k) The Ark by rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

We’ve all been assuming that it takes them 6,000 years to figure it out, but what if it takes 6,300?

Or: the ineffable husbands evacuate a dying Earth.

mood: ineffable dystopian sci-fi romance (and yes, I love that this is a mood I can use to describe a good omens fic).

(7k) Where Thou Art by Mottlemoth / @mottlemoth

A late-night bus to London, a few human comforts, and a long overdue confession... nothing will ever be the same for an angel and his demon.

mood: we-might-be-dead-by-tomorrow-love-confessions

(5k) Love Stories by goodomensblog / @goodomensblog

Crowley goes too slow, Aziraphale drinks copious amounts of alcohol, and the bookshop is (very nearly) set on fire. Again.

mood: drinking because you’re an idiot in love (or because you’re in love with an idiot), looking after your drunk mate (only he’s not your mate he’s the love of your life and he’s finally starting to get that)

(4k) A Metaphor Of Some Kind by copperbadge / @copperbadge

After the world doesn't end, Hell gets Crowley and Heaven gets Aziraphale, but not for very long.

mood: witty with great voices, loads of fun

(4k) One Sweet Moment Set Aside For Us by Arej

Tattoos are like stories you write on your skin, and they'll say things for you if you'll let them. Or perhaps prompt other people to say things.

Or, Crowley is just drunk enough to get bold and let his guard down, and it leads to something he never thought he'd be allowed to have.

mood: pining, touching, reverance, love confessions

(3k) Something To Talk About by iamtheenemy (Steph)

Aziraphale jumps to some very inaccurate conclusions.

mood: pining and misconceptions, let’s see if we can make Crowley have an aneurysm.

Wow! Thanks for scrolling this far! You’ve unlocked the secret “I’ll be in my bunk” section of the rec list! ;)

(That’s not to say the fics above don’t have their own hot scenes, or that the fic below are only pwp, but these are the fics where the plot is either focused mostly on sex or the build-up to sex.)

(4k) left with no trace, as if not spoken to by drawlight / @drawlight

Aziraphale's finger brushes against the edge of Crowley's hand. The theater is packed, it is dark. Everyone is watching the stage (no one is watching them). "Do you - ?" "Yeah, angel."

mood: Shakespeare may not have deserved this, but this reader is glad this exists.

(4k) I Tempt, You Thwart... Right? by AEpixie7 / @knightofthesevenfandoms

Crowley accidentally-on-purpose roofies Aziraphale and then feels bad about it because Aziraphale is so high that he can't remember how to sober up.

mood: serious wing kink, drug-induced-loss-of-inhibitions

(6k) Appetite by spunknbite / @spunknbite

Crowley places the macaron against Aziraphale’s lips with more reverence than the angel had thought him capable. “It’s alright, angel. Just take a bite.”

mood: drunk sex, overcoming inhibitions, first time, hand feeding

(6k) The Better Part of Valour by obstinatrix

Said I, a few weeks ago: "I feel there’s also room for e.g. bedsharing fic where the apocalypse has Not Happened and they’ve fallen into queerplatonic (or so they think) bedsharing and Crowley thinks he’s alone in being driven slowly to distraction by it, so he says nothing. Then one night he wakes when it’s still dark, and at first he doesn’t know why, until he hears Aziraphale’s breathing a little raspier than usual, and feels the very slight trembling of the bed."

mood: bed-sharing-with-serious-insecurities-and-misunderstanding

(7k) a treatise on your fingers in my hair by Nimravidae / @tooeasilyconsidered

Crowley sleeps for two days, his hair is a mess, and all it takes is a touch. Like a catalyst. Like striking flint, like a matchstick, like touching fire to gunpowder

mood: all that pent up UST has to go somewhere

(9k) Released by vaguely_concerned / @vaguely-concerned

After they get together Aziraphale has some lingering Ideas about his brief stint in the Bastille; Crowley is happy to help him explore them. Hijinks, as they say, ensue.

mood: french revolution era role play w/ feelings, fantastic dialogue.

(17k) One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan / @seaskystone

Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

mood: flirting and first times

You’re still here? Can’t get enough? Well check out these amazing WIPs!

Slow Show by mia_ugly / @mia-ugly

The Ineffable Pining Showmance AU that no one asked for.

mood: a more accurate summary would be the: ineffable pining showmance AU that no one knew to ask for, and everyone wanted more of. The characterizations in this are amazing. Crowley as a fallen film star is perfection.

Shifting Heaven and Earth by BuggreAlleThis

For most of history, since he narrowly avoiding Falling from Heaven with Lucifer, Crowley has been working for the Angelic Corruption Unit. This ended up being far more boring than he hoped it would be, but things change when he is assigned to go undercover on Earth. His mission is to investigate Aziraphale, an infamous angel who has been on Earth since its Creation, and whom Heaven is sure is guilty of corruption or dereliction of duty.

mood: slow-burn, betrayal, regrets, aziraphale!whump, bamf!aziraphale

the bucket list by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons

If you’re going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

mood: saying the absolutely wrong thing at the wrong time, reaching your breaking point, miscommunication and heart break.

Still here? :)

My previous good omens recs post can be found here [x]

#good omens fic #good omens recs #good omens fic recs #my fic recs #good omens #ineffable hubands #ineffable husbands fic #good omens fic rec

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years

Text

05. FAMILY FEUD

surprise, bitches. bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. why do i update my fic always a month apart. sorry!! i’m always working on it, i just write really long chapters... anyways, here is chapter five of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag.

i've incorporated some quotes from midnight sun because obviously this is still something of a parallel to midnight sun & i wanted to stay true to some of the reactions. also, you may recognize a little blurb imbedded here that i've written before about the bookshelf hehe. hope yall enjoy ♡♡♡

The weight of the battle I was fighting within myself was beginning to surpass the previous toll it’d taken on me. Every moment since I met Edward, it seemed I was falling further down into an abyss that I couldn’t climb out of, and every time I felt like maybe I’d found my grip, I only fell further. Again, I was frustrated as I sat outside Edward’s house in Carlisle’s Mercedes, watching the hazy, obscure sun slip further away behind the blackened clouds, leaving me shrouded in the darkness of a midday storm and the cover of pouring rain. I felt partially guilty for not returning Carlisle’s car. He wouldn’t mind running home, but Esme might not be too pleased about the puddles his drenched clothing would leave on her newly installed flooring. Although after today, it might not matter anymore.

I wondered what I’d return home to. Would they have already finished packing up our belongings? Would they be waiting to confront me about the consequences of my actions? Carlisle was forgiving, but would the rest of my family be?

For those reasons, I wasn’t ready to return home yet. But mostly, I was hesitant to drive away because I knew the moment my tires left Edward’s street would be the moment I’d be leaving him behind in Forks. I felt unprepared for the finality of such a moment.

When I heard the soft purr of an engine turning onto the street around one in the afternoon, I sighed, shifting the car into drive and moving forward to the end of the road in case it was Edward’s father returning home. I watched in my rearview mirror as the silver vehicle confirmed my suspicions by pulling into Edward’s driveway. Although the darkness of the thunderstorm’s gloom brewing in the clouds did little to obscure my eyesight, the torrent of rain pounding down relentlessly onto the green earth was too thick for even my eyes to catch a good glimpse of his face.

I could stay and listen – hear the voice of his father and compare it to the quality of Edward’s low, soft timbre, see if Edward’s sincerity in sticking to my version of events was genuine, check if he was truly as alright as he insisted – but maybe I was only looking for reasons to avoid heading home. Or maybe I was just being unforgivably invasive.

I glanced at the digital clock. 1:05. If they had stayed in their classes after the accident, there was still another hour and forty minutes before my siblings would be released from school. If they went home early, then Carlisle still wouldn’t be home for another two hours and twenty five minutes. I decided I’d rather not be there without Carlisle, so I lifted my foot off the break, slammed on the gas, and headed for Port Angeles before I realized where I was going.

As I left Forks behind me, the rain softened to a more consoling pitter patter on the roof of the car, and the clouds, although still grey, were lighter, hinting at the hidden sun. I made it to Port Angeles in under half an hour, luckily finding the roads to be mostly empty.

I drove at an appropriate speed once I reached the city. It was surprisingly beautiful scenery for such a disastrous day. It had snowed the night before here as well, but the melted snow hadn’t refrozen into ice. Instead, the tops of the buildings were covered in a thin layer of fluffy white snowflakes. The clouds above were thick enough to conceal me from the sun but held no implications of oncoming rain.

I located a parking spot near my favorite old brick building and paid the meter for the next few hours. The air was even more wintry here than in Forks as the harbor air brought in fresh, freezing ocean spray. There was a bookstore I liked to go to here in Port Angeles. Even as a child, Forks didn’t have an adequate library or bookstore to satiate my needs. My previous grievances with the rainforest of a city aside, there was always the silver lining of the bookstore.

If there was one thing that I looked forward to when arriving in the otherwise detestable small town of Forks in the rainy state of Washington, it was returning to the familiar mahogany of the sturdy bookshelf in the tiny living room of Charlie’s small, two-story house. It had been a gift – a homecoming gesture – in hopes to put me in better spirits when I was forced to spend my summers with my father. He knew how I had disliked his gloomy town just as my mother had. A friend from the reservation, Billy Black’s, young, cheerful son built the bookshelf himself. Billy had dismissed Charlie’s offers to pay his son for the service, insisting he accept it as a present in return for all the nights Billy stole away to the Swan Residence (Swan, the last name I held as a human) to watch the game on Charlie’s much larger – though not by much – television screen. When he hadn’t been looking, Charlie slipped a small wad of cash to Billy’s kid who excitedly accepted it, eager to save for some other projects.

Over time, the book shelf became a home for some of my favorite classic novels. On his days off, when his friend Harry Clearwater was unavailable for a fishing trip, he’d picked up books of all kinds, hoping I would find at least one I liked in the overflowing collection. The bookshelf was stuffed with paperbacks and hardbacks, lining each ledge edge to edge with books piling horizontally on top of the other books as space began to run out. It was a gesture that moved me in ways I was unused to and ways I couldn’t find the words to express.

When I was in town, Charlie drove me to some of the larger cities surrounding his small town and waited patiently as I perused the shelves of second-hand book stores. Smart as he was, he wasn’t a very articulate man, struggling to convey the depth of his emotions through words. But something in his eyes betrayed the way his heart overflowed with pride and adoration watching his small, gangly daughter enter into a world of her own as she searched for her next favorite story to add to their beloved bookshelf. It was a look I caught that sometimes made me feel embarrassed and shy by the profundity of the love in it, but now a look that I’d always remember. A look that would always make my unbeating heart feel somehow full and empty at the same time. Intense feelings of love and sadness for what I’d once had and since lost. This bookstore was our favorite, and therefore, it would always be my favorite. It still held the aged charm of the past, but they made some modern improvements in desperation for relevance today. I’d made sure to keep the store open with anonymous donations. Too many independent bookstores suffered in such a competitive, unfair market full of large online distributors.

I listened to the familiar hum of the glowing red neon sign in the window as I reached for the door. A bell above let out a peal of rings as I entered, and the clerk behind the wooden counter looked up beneath her large glasses. Her skin was deeply tan with olive undertones and her dark hair was cropped in a perfect line above her shoulders. Her eyes registered shock upon seeing my face, her heart rate picked up, and she stuttered over her words. “W-welcome!”

“Thank you,” I smiled softly, though finding the politeness to be difficult today. I didn’t want to come across rude or threatening, but feigning anything resembling joy was especially exhausting. I kept my voice gentle and even so as not to alarm the woman.

“Let me know if you need any help!” She called after me as I passed the counter, heading deeper into the store.

The shop was unpopulated at this time of day. Only a few people loitered here and there examining the shelves or curled up on loveseats with hot coffee cups to recover from the chill of the outdoors.

I crossed over the entirety of the first floor, finding the concealed narrow staircase that led to the upstairs. Tasting the air, I could tell there was nobody immediately near me, so I flew up the staircase at a more reasonable speed though I was in no hurry. The second floor was a brown labyrinth, the bookshelves placed in a way to create an intimate maze with countless little crevices to slip into and hide away from the rest of the world. Hardbacks and paperbacks piled the shelves and walls from the floor to the ceiling. The air was filled with the scents of crispy paper, aged ink, and the sweet, musky smell of older books. The lighting was warm reddish-orange, dull, and not ideal for reading despite the setting, but a miscellaneous mélange of lamps in all shapes and sizes embellished the spaces tucked between the bookcases, generating enough brightness to read in tiny, personal pools of light.

I weaved a path through the maze until I reached a dead-end corner with a single, wine-colored armchair in a faded leather. An ornate wooden plaque spray painted gold with eroded edges was drilled into the shelf behind the chair, the words “For Charlie” engraved into the pallet. Well, my donations were mostly anonymous.

No matter how many times I rounded this corner, every time my eyes fell on the empty chair hit me like a wrecking ball with nearly unmanageable grief. Any attempt to decipher the thoughts that came with this always led me to simplistic statements because that was all that I could ever handle. It was too much emptiness, too much numbness, too much complexity. It was always simply too much. And that was about all the conclusions I could come to no matter how much gentleness and coaxing Esme, Rosalie, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Carlisle comforted me with. It was always easier to push away the thought, to avoid thinking too much than to acknowledge the hole in my chest. Some days I almost forget, and some days it becomes seemingly ever present. It was always easier to ignore the gravity of the grief.

But in this life with the absoluteness of what we are, all we can do is to go on. One next step at a time. As much as I felt so much stronger and accustomed to this life, there was no denying the simple truth – there is so much loss in immortality.

I sighed. Even with all of our physical resilience, the extremities of our emotions in this form was enough to be tiring. I took steps forward and turned to sink into the chair, feeling very small. Looking out at the warmth of the bookcases and the endless array of novels, I thought of what it would be like to be Charlie sitting here, watching his awkward daughter run her finger along all the spines or disappear into the maze only to be found on the floor somewhere surrounded by piles of books.

Sometimes being here I could feel the ghost of Charlie’s love. The intensity that he couldn’t quite always communicate and that I didn’t always understand the extent of. But here, I could feel it. And I felt the same love for him in return. I missed him. His thick mustache, the sudden youthfulness in his warm, brown eyes when he smiled, the endearing crinkles that reminded me of his age. The coffee rings on the table, and the snow chains on my tires. The flush of red under his translucent skin when he was angry or embarrassed. Just like how my skin had been. Like father, like daughter.

I wondered what he’d think of my life now, and what he’d think of what I’d done today. Knowing the circumstances of the secrets I was meant to keep, would he have thought I’d done the right thing as Carlisle had? Or would he have thought I interfered and placed my siblings at risk like the rest of my family might think? I think that despite the consequences, he would have said something like, “you did the right thing, kid.” And maybe he’d even uncomfortably ask me about whether or not this boy was someone he should be keeping his eye on and would be immensely relieved when I reassured him that the answer was no. The thought almost made me smile. So then, I couldn’t bring myself to regret my decisions, and I wouldn’t allow myself to.

I sat there in the weathered leather of the chair for some time, listening to the subtle dragging of pages sliding off of shelves, the whoosh of air and the crispy rustle of paper as someone turned a page, the heaviness of footsteps on dead pieces of floorboard, the twinkle of the bell above the front door, and the whisper of the frozen wind rushing inside. After an hour, I stirred, rising from Charlie’s chair to trace my finger along the edges of the shelves, the action stirring up some dust particles to leap into the air like dandelion seeds, the warm light catching them in astonishing ways as they floated along. I left my little nook briefly to find the right section that would hold the book I was suddenly searching for.

When I located it, I plucked the gently used novel off the shelf, vowing to officially mend my own copy at home since it was the same story that Emmett had destroyed the morning of the first day I saw Edward.

I returned to the armchair, once again sinking down into the burgundy, and flipped through the aged pages until I found the place I left off at.

I’d have read until closing time, but eventually something in the unreliability of initial appearances in Pride and Prejudice began to bother me in a way that it never had before. I gave up on the book and instead sat unthinking – or attempting to, at least– quietly for a few hours.

Again, I longed to sleep. I’d never needed an escape as much as I did now as my mind was becoming too tiring a place to consciously be.

After some time, I heard creaky footsteps on the ancient wood up the stairs and the jingling sound of keys hitting each other. I waited patiently as they approached, imagining where exactly they may be in the labyrinth as they turned corners and hesitated to quietly shove stray books back onto shelves. They drew closer, closing in the distance between them and my little nook, finally rounding the corner.

“Oh!” The clerk from downstairs gasped in surprise, dropping the book in her hand. I stopped myself from saving it to not startle her any further with sudden movements, allowing it to clatter noisily to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, only then rising from the chair to lean down and collect the novel after an appropriate amount of reaction time. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The clerk’s heart boomed loudly in her chest. “No, no, it’s alright!” She laughed breathlessly, a hand fluttering to her heart. “I just didn’t think anyone else was here... We’re, uh, sorry, we’re closed!”

“Oh, I’m sorry again,” I laughed softly as well to relax her, extending my hand to offer her the book she’d dropped. “I must have lost track of time.”

“That’s okay! It happens more often than you think...” she laughed again, her heart rate slowing down to a more regular place, though now that she recovered from the shock, her face was mesmerized by the oddness of my jarringly perfect appearance.

“I’ll leave now,” I smiled politely, pushing the book forward to her hand, careful not to touch her skin. Without processing, she took hold of the book. As I began to pass her, she clumsily turned.

“Oh, uh, wait! I’ll unlock the door to let you out!”

I allowed her to pass me up and leisurely followed her through the maze down the stairs. Her blood had a sweet smell, but it was still unappealing in comparison to Edward’s.

Once we’d reached the door, I could see how much time had passed whilst I hadn’t been paying attention. Through the large windows, night had fallen in a blackened cloak over the port city.

“Here we are,” she shyly chirped in a very intentionally favorable tone – something she probably reserved for customer service – and fiddled with the keys. Her hands shook slightly, and I felt guilty for how it must feel to have her back turned to a predator. Of course, she couldn’t know the difference, but her body recognized the threat. Finally, once she’d found the right key, she jimmied the rusty metal into the lock – missing the narrow fissure twice at first – and opened the door.

“Sorry about that. Thank you so much for coming,” she turned, gesturing with a shaky hand towards the outside world. The bitter wind blew in through the opening, making her shiver.

“Thank you,” I smiled again for her sake. Her eyes were peculiarly light compared to the rest of her features, making them extremely prominent. They were lighter and more hazel, yet the shade of green made me think of Edward again. I sighed. “Have a good night.”

I stepped out into the darkened street, looking down at the strange way the red light from the neon sign in the window washed over and illuminated my skin. Tiny bugs flew around the street lamps up above, casting irregularly moving shadows on the frozen sidewalk.

The heavy door shut loudly behind me, and she clicked the lock. It was unusually quiet, though that could be due to it being a weeknight. The bulbs in the streetlamps hummed and the bugs buzzed in response.

I strolled along the sidewalk, taking my time before returning to Carlisle’s car. I should have paid the meter more generously. It expired two hours ago. I’d received a parking ticket. Oops.

I removed the frozen slip of paper and unlocked the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. I had no desire to drive fast at first, deciding to return home at the speed limit. After about forty minutes, suddenly the anticipation to get the confrontation out of the way overcame me, and I drove 200 miles per hour the rest of the way home. Within minutes, I was turning onto the miles-long driveway.

As I raced for the garage, I listened for any movement from the bright house. There was none. I wondered how long they’d been sitting still, waiting for me. I groaned aloud in greeting.

The garage door was open so I pulled into the blue fluorescence and parked beside Rosalie’s day car. I sighed once before determinedly exiting the vehicle.

I slammed the door a little too hard before catching the handle before it hit the body. Perhaps I’d reached my quota this morning when it came to destroying car doors.

I ran through the small section of woods separating the garage from the house and braced myself for the impact of the meeting.

“Hello,” I said sheepishly. I wanted to sound stronger and more confident, but my nerve wavered as I entered the dining room to see everyone waiting for me at the long oval table. At the eastern head of the table, Carlisle and Esme sat side by side, their hands resting together atop the mahogany. I felt some of the resilience I’d mustered in the last few seconds return upon seeing the intensity of Esme’s golden eyes. They were full of concern and overwhelmingly forgiving. It was reassuring.

Rosalie sat directly opposite from Carlisle, very intentionally avoiding eye contact with me, her arms crossed firmly across her chest. I could feel the tension and coldness emanating from her. I was unused to feeling spurned by Rosalie. She always tenderly cared for me, always taking my side… My actions must have truly offended her today. A twinge of guilt twisted my abdomen.

It was unfair to feel any sense of betrayal considering the danger I’d placed my family in, but still with Emmett wrly seated beside Rosalie, and Jasper standing behind them, leaning against the wall mirroring Rose’s crossed arms, I felt some irrational anger at the lines being drawn. Of course, I should have known better than to think Emmett would have my back as if he wouldn’t undoubtedly support Rosalie.

Alice sat beside Esme, her eyes focused on something other than the room. I wondered if her visions made her support waver, if in all the hours I’d been gone, she’d been moving back and forth on either side of the room. She always chose the winning side.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “First, for this,” I crossed to the other side of the table to sit beside Carlisle, placing the parking ticket on the wood and sliding it over towards him. His lips curved into an amused smirk, and I felt encouraged by the expression.

“And more importantly,” I turned to face Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper. “I’m very, very sorry for this morning. It was incredibly selfish, irresponsible, and stupid of me to put any of you at risk. It’s all my fault… I take full responsibility for my actions.”

Rosalie’s exquisite face finally looked up at me, her expression full of hurt. “And what does that mean, Bella? Are you planning on fixing this?”

The implication behind her words filled me with sudden indignation, and before I could calm myself down, I snapped, “not in the way that you mean.”

Of course, something had to be done about the accident, but what was the point of going to such idiotic lengths to save his life only to end it later? Didn’t she realize I’ve been fighting to keep him alive since the very moment I’d met him?

Rosalie took offense to the harsh accusation of my words. “You say that as if I’d advocate for this under normal circumstances.”

“I had planned on leaving before, and I will leave now if it makes things easier.” Rather than keeping my voice calm and even, the words again came out in ways I didn’t intend. Unnecessarily punitive. I knew it was ridiculous to be so angry with Rosalie’s anger towards me when she was entirely right, but I couldn’t tame my passion in defense of Edward’s silly little life.

“Oh, no, Bella,” Esme murmured. “Please, you can’t leave.”

I reached to squeeze my mother’s hand.

“It’d have been helpful prior to this morning,” Jasper spoke up. “Now, it’s irrelevant.”

“Jazz is right,” Emmett agreed. “There’s no point in leaving now. If anything, that’d look more suspicious.”

“I agree with Emmett, Bella,” Carlisle nodded. “For you to disappear, perhaps it’d make the boy more inclined to talk. Either all of us leave or none.”

“Edward won’t say anything,” I insisted.

“You can’t know that,” Rosalie argued.

“I trust him,” I disagreed, surprising myself at how true the statement was. I thought back to the biology lab when he’d jokingly asked if I trusted him. It was in response to his identification of the stages of mitosis, and I had said no. Now, I suddenly entrusted him with the secrecy of my vampire abilities. I was really unintelligent. She scoffed at my words. “Alice, back me up.”

“I can’t see what will happen if we just ignore this,” Alice rubbed her temples before shooting an accusatory glance in Jasper and Rosalie’s direction.

“We can’t ignore this. Bella, I have always supported you, and of course I love you dearly. But clearly, this isn’t some minor mistake. You were right – it was incredibly selfish and irresponsible and stupid! And it’d be even more irresponsible and stupid for us to allow the human the chance to say anything about it. Carlisle, you must see that,” Rosalie turned her attention to our adopted father.

“It’s not like we haven’t left rumors behind before,” I reminded her. “And I don’t recall anyone else’s first offense putting them on trial like this.”

She ignored the second part of my statement. “Rumors, Bella. Today, you’ve provided eyewitnesses and evidence! It’s not enough that you were perfect prior to today. You’re no more a saint than the rest of us! We have to be perfect always! This was a massive mistake!” Rosalie stood up from her chair. “And I know that!” I stood up as well.

“Then you should agree with what’s the right course of action! It doesn’t have to be a big production. So he seemed alright after the accident. Every mortal goes to sleep with the chance of never waking up. Say Carlisle missed something far more serious than it looked. I don’t delight in this, Bella, but the rest of our kind would expect us to take care of this. Technically, you should be the one to clean up after yourself.”

“Rosalie, the Masen boy is completely innocent,” Carlisle gently disapproved.

Rosalie frowned. “It’s an unfortunate consequence to Bella’s mistake in favor of protecting us all, but a consequence nonetheless”

“Rose, I am sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t matter anymore, Bella!” She interrupted.

“I never wanted this. I never wanted to place you or Emmett or any of us in this position. I know my actions have affected you. But I couldn’t just let him die that way!” My chest sunk at the thought.

“But it wasn’t your place to meddle with fate. You’ve already interrupted his life with your existence alone. Why let him survive? So that you could slaughter him later?”

I winced at her words, but a low hiss escaped my throat as well.

“Rose...” Emmett reached up for her hand to placate her, but she pulled away.

“No, it’s the truth. Our existence and your fixation on his scent posed a threat to the boy. His time came, but you interfered. Now he poses a greater threat to us. So what was the point of that then? You couldn’t help yourself from cutting into his life? It seems the universe provided you with an easy way out, and you went out of your way to make things not only more difficult for yourself but for us as well. I don’t always love this life, but excuse me for taking it personally when you’ve threatened the tiniest piece of happiness I have here! You should have just let him die! It seems you’ll end up killing him anyways!”

The room shifted completely. Suddenly, everyone was on their feet, Rosalie leaned towards me in defense, Emmett uncomfortably but faithfully crouched by her side, Jasper’s stance was more confident and relaxed but poised to strike as well. Carlisle and Esme were both by my sides, holding me in place by my arms. Only Alice remained in her seat, not at all concerned by the change in atmosphere. It took me half a second to realize what had triggered everyone’s response – to process the vicious growl that erupted from my throat and the tenseness of my body as it coiled to spring at my own sister. I was too stubborn and furious to feel any shame yet. I scowled but eased my stance, allowing Carlisle and Esme to gently coax me back to my chair. Everyone else loosened their defensive posture. Emmett made Rosalie sit down, her golden eyes narrowed in a harsh glare of which I was the recipient. Jasper stood straight again but remained stiff. Once we’d all relaxed, Carlisle began speaking again.

“Rosalie, I know you mean well, but every life is precious. To murder a blameless child poses an even greater risk to us. The occasional accident or lapse in control is a regrettable part of who we are, but to bring harm to the boy would make ourselves unworthy of the protection you so lovingly wish to give us. If we make exceptions to protect ourselves, we risk something much more important. We risk losing the essence of who we are.”

I couldn’t help the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of my lips.

“Carlisle, it’s about being responsible when Bella was so horribly irresponsible.”

Being on the receiving end of Rosalie’s inflexibility and anger was not at all pleasant.

"It's being callous," Carlisle corrected softly before repeating himself. “Every human life is precious.”

Rosalie sighed heavily and turned her head to again avoid looking at me, making it very apparent where the two of us stood.

“The question is whether or not we should move on,” he continued.

“The last thing I want is to unroot any of you. I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Carlisle. I feel confident about Edward’s silence,” I insisted again.

Rosalie huffed loudly, and I turned just in time to catch her rolling her eyes.

“Well, we certainly don't have to decide now. Perhaps we wait then,” Carlisle nodded.

I turned to face Alice, searching for some reassurance about the future but instead following her accusatory gaze to where Jasper stood leaning against the wall again. They were having another one of those silent conversations they shared that the rest of us were lost to. It was almost as if they could read each other’s minds.

“What?” I asked.

“Jazz seems to feel he’s above this conversation,” Alice gritted her teeth. “He seems to think he should set things right.”

My eyes flashed between her and Jasper, whose face was expressionless and unmoved. It took me a moment to piece it together.

“Jazz,” I warned as I began to feel irrationally overprotective again. “I won’t let you punish him for my mistake.”

“So he benefits from it then?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I won’t allow it,” I repeated.

“And I won’t allow Alice to live in danger. You can’t understand, Bella. You don’t feel about anyone the way I feel towards her.”

“That’s irrelevant. I’m not just going to stand aside as you murder him,” I hissed. “I will not let you hurt Edward Masen.”

We stared at each other. I knew he was measuring the opposition and sampling the depth of my determination.

“Jazz,” Alice interrupted us, cutting through the tension in the air.

“Don’t bother telling me you can protect yourself, Alice. I already know that, but-”

“That’s not what I was going to say, but thank you for the assumption,” she rolled her eyes. “And it’s true, I can. I don’t need the backup, you overprotective fool.”

She said the last words playfully, her voice full of affection, as she stuck her tongue out. The action was out of sync with the mood of the room. “What I was going to ask for was a favor.”

Jasper’s eyebrows raised at what was seemingly an inappropriate time to make any requests. My eyebrows knitted in confusion at where the conversation was heading.

“I know you love me, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill Edward. First, we all know how headstrong Bella is, so you shouldn’t doubt how serious she’s being right now. I don’t want the two of you to fight. Seriously. Secondly, Edward is my friend. Yours too. At least, he’s going to be.”

“What?” Jasper gasped. Even though we were all very much accustomed to Alice’s ambiguity and the bizarre certainty she spoke with about things only she had seen, this was not a statement that could so easily be digested. I couldn’t tear my attention from Alice, staring intently at her face as if the meaning behind her words would suddenly be written on her forehead. What had she seen in that little odd head of hers?

“I’m going to love him–” as she said this, I nearly choked on the air whistling down my throat “–someday, Jazz. I’d be very put out with you if you don’t leave him be.”

I was locked into place, my eyes still boring deeply into my sister’s face. I could feel the pucker on my forehead etched into my expression as I tried to make sense of what she was saying. I kept expecting Alice to explain, but every time she opened her mouth she only confounded me more.

“Ahh!” Alice sighed, smiling brightly. “See, there’s nothing to worry about! Edward won’t say anything at all.”

I could not see.

“Alice,” I whined impatiently. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know, Bella. I told you something was changing in your future.”

“In my future? What did you see?”

“Hmm… I don’t think I should share quite yet,” Alice locked her jaw, and I growled, exasperated.

“Oh, clearly, Bella can’t be trusted lately to not act on her impulses! You should give her whatever warning you’re hiding,” Rosalie sighed, annoyed.

I was still feeling illogically irritated with Rose’s resentment, but I couldn’t disagree with her. “She’s right, Alice.”

“I really don’t think-”

“Who votes that Alice shares what she knows?” I asked restlessly. “Raise your hand.”

It was juvenile, and this was not how we came to decisions ever. Of course we’d discuss differing opinions, but never so bluntly did we vote in this manner. The way I approached the subject was rude, but still unanimously, six hands shot into the air including mine.

“Fine,” Alice huffed, scowling. “But I’m not obligated to share anything just because the rest of you voted. That’s silly. I’m only sharing because I can see that Bella won’t let this go.”

She paused and we waited, staring. It was as if we were awaiting the results of a reading from some fortune teller at a carnival, anxious to see which tarot cards she had pulled. Anxious to see what this would mean for my life.

“My vision keeps becoming clearer. At first, it was just hazy, and I couldn’t make sense of it or of who I was seeing. Every minute it’s like Bella’s more decided,” Alice began. Six pairs of eyes flickered to me, but I had no idea what she was referring to, nor did I know how this related to the boy. Alice frowned a little as if she knew what she was about to say wouldn’t be received well. “It seems there’s only two ways left for Edward now. Either Bella will… end his life or… he’ll join us.”

Esme gasped as my mouth dropped open.

“Join us?!” I choked out once I recovered. “I…. I have not made a decision anywhere in that realm at all. That has never ever crossed my mind. Why in the world would I turn him?”

“Maybe you don’t. Maybe I do it because I love him too or at least, I will. I don’t know.”

“Love him, too?” I gaped, convinced Alice’s abilities were broken somehow. “What does that even mean? Who else are you talking about?”

“Who do you think, Bella?” Alice rolled her eyes again, impatient at my lack of clairvoyance. “Clearly not Rosalie.”

“Love him!?” Rosalie questioned incredulously, eyeing me as if I’d completely lost my mind. Maybe I had.

I then realized what Alice meant as I watched Rosalie’s face and processed the other baffled pairs of eyes.

“You mean me!?” I gasped.

“Woah! What the hell...” Emmett almost laughed in surprise, then decided it was indeed actually funny and broke out into real, booming laughter. “Damn! That’s rough. Of course, Bella would fall for a human!”

“Fall for a human?” Esme asked, completely astonished. “Fall in love? With the boy she saved today?”

“Nobody is in love with anybody,” I stood up. “That’s completely absurd!”

“Ooh, touchy subject,” Emmett snickered. I glared daggers at him.

“What exactly do you see, Alice?” Jasper asked.

“I already told you. It depends on Bella’s strength. Either she’ll kill him herself which would really destroy you, Bella, not to mention how very irritated I’d be with you–” she gave me a stern look through narrowed eyes as if I’d already committed the murder then returned her attention to the rest of our family “–or he’ll be one of us someday. There’s not much else to say; the visions are finite but not detailed. It will require a great deal of self control…”

As she continued to muse, I was still frozen in place on my feet, completely numb and completely bewildered.

“...Greater than even Carlisle’s capability maybe. I wouldn’t have put it past her prior to this, but now… It’ll be extremely close as to whether or not she kills him. The only thing she’s not strong enough to do is stay away from him. That’s a completely lost cause.”

The room was entirely quiet.

“Well, this complicates things greatly,” Carlisle murmured.

After another moment of silence, Rosalie piped up. “I can’t believe it. In love with a human-”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Rosalie!” I snarled, returning to some clarity.

“Girls, please-” Esme began to plead.

“Ooh, she got you there, babe,” Emmett interrupted, chuckling as Rose growled at him.

“Emmett,” Esme warned sternly. He held up his hands in surrender but winked at me, grinning widely.

I couldn’t even appreciate the realliance. I was still too lost in the sudden upheaval of my entire life.

“I suppose the plans remain the same, though," Carlisle said thoughtfully. "We'll stay and watch. Obviously, no one will...hurt the boy.”

“Of course not,” Jasper agreed, nodding his head once. “If Alice only sees two ways, then it’s unnecessary to take matters into-”

“Shut up, Jazz,” I said numbly.

Everyone’s eyes flickered over to me.

I was just loving being the center of attention these days.

If Alice only sees two ways...

“You’re wrong,” I whispered. For the first time in my life, I was betting against Alice.

My psychic sister opened her mouth to protest but stopped after seeing either in her head or on my face that I wasn’t finished.

“I hardly know Edward. I don’t see how it could be possible for me to… develop any kind of… feelings for him. That’s entirely ridiculous. I mean, he’s… human! The only scenario that could potentially ever happen – which again, it’s absolutely implausible – would be if I were to accidentally change him. And even then, I mean, why would I-... He’s so… Ugh, just nevermind! That would be a complete mistake. A mistake greater than the one I made today. And I’m very sorry to you all for how I’ve mutilated the future with my actions, but I’m going to fix it. I’ll leave-”

“You can’t,” Alice and Esme interrupted at the same time. My sister’s tone was one of annoyance while my mother’s was one of concern.

“You’re right,” I nodded, but my agreement wasn’t for the reasons Alice meant. I wasn’t considering my capability to leave based on my own will power against leaving the boy behind. That was something too complicated to unpack here in front of my family. Something that’d be better dealt with on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees. I wouldn’t leave because it’d be more crucial for me to stay now. The responsible thing to do. “But I’ll try to...I will stay away from Edward–” suddenly, I felt a desire to begin to distance myself from him and referring to him by his name felt too deeply personal, so I corrected myself, “–from the boy, I mean. It’s not right to condemn him to either fate. I won’t allow that to happen.”

As I spoke, Rosalie’s face softened and she materialized by my side, taking my hand.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved today, Bella. I only spoke out of love for our family. But you’re right. It’s not right. And I’m glad you’re choosing to do the right thing by staying away. I still don’t feel as though trusting him is responsible, but if what Alice has said is true-”

“I’m sorry, too,” I cut her off quietly, not wanting to hear the rest. I was feeling sorry for so much more than just how I spoke to Rose.

Esme appeared behind me as well, placing her hand encouragingly on my shoulder. “We are here to support you, Bella.”

“Thanks,” I murmured unenthusiastically.

Nobody moved again as they waited to see what I’d do next. I felt like a zoo animal.

I sighed, releasing Rose’s hand and shaking off Esme.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be by myself.”

“Of course,” Carlisle responded.

I crossed behind the west side of the table. Emmett let out a low, cartoony whistle of relief to break the tension, and I punched him on the arm as I passed. As I exited the room, Alice called, “wait!”

She was by my side in an instant.

“This is from the accident. It’s Edward’s. I thought maybe you’d want to return it to him.”

I looked down as she pulled my unresponsive hand away from my body to place the thick, chestnut journal I’d seen Edward reach for in his backseat right before the accident. I stared at her, impassive, so she sighed and wrapped my fingers around the worn leather to force it into my grip.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, turning and disappearing out of the house into the forest.

As I ran, I felt the weight of their eyes on me.

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lihikainanea · 4 years

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The Dangerous Forest Excursion Part 2

Author’s note: I kept very, very quiet about this. I didn’t mention to anyone that I was working on it--I was sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.

Partly because I really was completely fucking devastated when Tumblr deleted the original and I stupidly didn’t have a back up copy, and partly because it was such a daunting task for me--I really, really did think that the original was perfect. And the more I thought about attempting to re-write it, the more I broke out into a cold sweat.

Eventually, though, I decided that I just...couldn’t leave this part unwritten. It’s too important of a juncture in their relationship--it’s the first time tiger realizes what she needs from Bill and asks for it, it’s the first time they incorporate punishment into their dynamic, and it’s the first time Bill starts to understand tiger much better. It was too pivotal to not have still around.

Ultimately, though--I also decided that it was too difficult for me to re-write it as it once was. Because in my brain, my tiresome little perfectionist brain, it would never be on par with the first version--I really do think it was probably my most favourite thing I have written, ever.

The original was posted back in August, and 3 days later--when I was just editing a stupid tag for it--Tumblr just up and deleted the entire thing without a trace. If you were lucky enough to read it while it existed, then I’m glad. It was my peak. But for everyone else, I hope this slightly different version lives up to all of the hype you might have heard about it.

You can read part one of the dangerous forest excursion here. If you have trouble with it, or if you need some hindsight as to where my mind was at, you can read my director’s (author’s?) commentary.

I love you guys. Thank you for your enthusiasm for this two-parter, and your very kind demands that I take another stab at this piece. ***

You hadn’t meant to run, to leave. You hadn’t meant to do the very same thing that had gotten the both of you into this mess to begin with. But it was too much, all of it was too much and it was more than you could handle. It had been days since you had gotten lost in the minefield that was that forest, days since the first promise you ever broke to Bill, days since you were on the receiving end of his fury—fury that was still too fresh in your mind, still weighing on your psyche, still ripping you apart. You didn’t know what was happening, how to make sense of what you were feeling, why his anger was still crushing your chest. Why the guilt you felt from it burned like acid through your veins, why you couldn’t reel your emotions in.

Bill, for as passionate as he was, never carried things for long. He would feel an emotion intensely, let it ruin him for the moment, but when it was done…it was done. He had been furious with you that night, enraged enough to ignore your need for his help. His own emotions had exploded, clawed their way out of him until he was yelling at you… until you used your safe word. He had paused, horrified, stepping outside to regain his composure before coming back in. It was the maddest you had ever seen him, but within a few minutes—after exchanged apologies, softer words—it was done. You were forgiven, and the chapter was closed.

For him.

You still needed more. It weighed too heavily on your mind—his anger, his disappointment in you. You couldn’t put words to it, this feeling of dread still nagging in the back of your mind, this lack of closure over it all. The lack of feeling forgiven.

And maybe that was it, maybe that’s what this ache burning into your mind was. A lack of feeling forgiven. You had done something wrong, put yourself in danger, broken a promise to him, and after a few exchanged words…it was done. You were forgiven. It lacked the depth that you needed, it lacked all of the components that you didn’t know you needed in order to feel forgiven. It lacked…consequence. Your actions had only merited his anger, his disappointment with you, and just as suddenly as they appeared, they had vanished. Without a single consequence.

It felt fake. And even though he told you that he forgave you, even though he made sure you understood, it still somehow lacked the validity you needed. Consequence, you realized, was what you were after. Wrong doings and punishment. Action and consequence. It was the balance that had lacked, and what had played on your mind to make you believe that you still didn’t have his total forgiveness.

You struggled with it, wrestled with the idea. You wanted to bring it up to him, you wanted to ask for his help, but you didn’t know how.You still couldn’t articulate the feeling properly, or tell him what you needed that would help. You wanted consequence, wanted a little absolution, but you didn’t know what that looked like. His words weren’t enough, you needed something a little more…concrete. Physical.

Punishment, you realized, but in that exact form: physical. He had spanked you before but it was strictly under the guise of pleasure, as part of something you both enjoyed, and you didn’t know how he would react to your request to use it as a form of exoneration.You struggled with it, struggled with how to ask for what you needed, and the more the days wore on, the more you withdrew. The more your mind got away on you. And it culminated one night as you were both reading on the couch, when Bill suddenly shut his book and turned to you, taking yours from your hand and placing both on the coffee table.

“Tiger, what is it?” He asked with a heavy sigh, “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You feigned confusion, but it didn’t work. He rested his hand on top of yours in your lap.

“You know what I mean,” he coaxed, “Something still isn’t right with you. And I need you to be honest with me, so that we can fix it.”

You squirmed, avoiding his gaze and fidgeting. Taking both of your hands in his, he ducked his gaze until he caught your eye.

“Please kid,” he pleaded, “Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

You let out a long sigh, meeting his eyes when he brought your hands to his mouth and kissed them.

“I don’t feel forgiven,” you whispered.

“What?”

“What happened between us. I don’t feel forgiven,” you said, “Bill, I can’t even explain it. I don’t know how. But there is just this….this weight on me, this nagging in my brain. This nagging that needs closure. Somehow. I need something that will just…something that will confirm to me, beyond shadow of a doubt that I’m forgiven. Because right now, I still feel like you’re mad at me. I still feel your disappointment, your anger, I feel everything except your forgiveness and it’s just very…heavy.”

There was a long pause, a lingering silence as he took in your words.

“Tiger,” he started gently, “I’ve forgiven you. It’s done for me. You’re forgiven. You need to know that.”

“I do know that,” you interjected, and he grabbed your face in his hands.

“Say it then,” he ordered. You sighed.

“I’m forgiven,” you mumbled.

“Not just that,” he implored.

“You forgive me,” you clarified, “You forgive me. Bill, I can say it as much as I want. For whatever reason, I don’t feel it. And I need to feel it, for me to be able to put this behind me. I need something to help me feel forgiven. Some form of absolution.”

“And do you know what that is?” He asked. You bit your lip and tried to take back your hands from his, but he held on, “Kid, it’s me. You can ask me for anything, I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to spank me,” you whispered.

“Okay….is that it? Because tiger, we do that already. If you want more of it, just—”

“Punishment,” you interrupted, “I need you to punish me.”

He went still, releasing your hands from his.

“What?” He asked.

“I need you to punish me,” you repeated, “Action, and consequence. I let you down. I disappointed you, I broke a promise to you. And even though you’ve told me a million times that I’m forgiven, I don’t feel forgiven— because there hasn’t been a consequence. And I need you to give me some proof or confirmation, some kind of consequence to my actions, that cuts through this mess in my head. So that I can move on from it.”

The silence was deafening, and you glanced up from your lap to see his eyes boring into yours.

“No,” he said definitively, “Tiger, no.”

Your chest constricted, your lungs tightening as he stood abruptly from the couch. He paced the living room, raking his hands through his hair as you fought the urge to cry.

“No?” You whispered, and swallowed hard, “Why no?”

“Because,” he spat, “Because just no, tiger. You’re forgiven. I’m not going to hurt you just to prove that to you.”

“You spank me anyway, what’s the big difference? It’s the same thing,” you argued.

“I spank you because you enjoy it, because it gives you pleasure. What’s you’re after is not pleasure kid, it’s pain.”

“I thought I could ask you for anything,” you murmured, and the sob in your throat was threatening to break. You felt humiliated, embarrassed, and foolish for even asking.

“You can,” he stopped his pacing, turning his attention on you as he rubbed his hands over his face,”You can ask me for anything. But this— this isn’t anything. You’re asking me to hurt you because you think you deserve it, all to get confirmation on something you already have. Tiger, you have my forgiveness.”

“I’m asking for absolution,” you tried.

“No, you’re asking for penance. You’re asking for pain,” his voice was thick with barely controlled emotion.

“It’s not pain, Bill,” you tried again, “At least not more than what I can handle. And it would help.”

“No,” he shook his head definitively, “It’s no, tiger. Find some other way to repent, some other way to get the penance you think you need.”

You sniffled, nodding your head as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. The hot flash of embarrassment crept up your chest, burning its way into your mind to join all the other feelings of shame and disappointment you had felt crushing you for days.

You heard him take a deep breath, felt the couch dip under his weight as he sat down beside you and took your hand in his.

“Tiger,” he said softly, “Hurting you is a hard limit for me. I can’t.”

You nodded, swiping at your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. You shrugged and tried for a half hearted smile, but you knew he saw through it.

“Limits are limits,” you told him, “We both have them. I won’t push yours.”

He nodded, still looking a little unsure, but leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to yours.

And that’s where you had left it. But when the next day felt even heavier, and the one after that was worse, you shut down. You needed…distance. You needed to clear your head, to forget the conversation, to get over your humiliation, try and deal with the mess in your head by yourself. So you sought solace the only way you knew how.

By running.

And so, you fled. You waited until he stepped out for groceries, knowing it was at least an hour there and back each way, giving you enough time to pack up the few things your had taken with you, and be on your way. Not wanting Bill to panic when he couldn’t find you, you took a second to scrawl a note on a torn piece of paper, leaving it on the kitchen table for him to find.

Gone in search of penance. Need space.

I love you,

Tiger

And you grabbed the duffel bag you had packed, and left. The area was remote, no cabs available, but over the course of a few days you had become friendly with some of the fishermen by the harbour. They left in the early afternoon to ride back into town with their haul for the markets, and you planned to hitch a ride with one of them. The wharf was 2 miles from the house, a slightly winding road, but one that was impossible to get lost on. You heaved the bag over your shoulder, and set out.

It took two hours for the calls to start coming in, his name popping up on your screen. You ignored them every time, but the texts followed soon after.

Tiger, where are you?

Are you okay?

Come back, kid. We need to talk about this.

You ignored those too. And once back on the mainland you headed to his apartment for the rest of your things, before getting a cab to the airport to change your flight home for the soonest one available. The texts continued and you ignored them as best you could, but a last desperate plea came in before your plane took off.

I love you, kid. But you can’t keep running.

With a heavy sigh, you shut off your phone.

You only let yourself break when you unlocked the door to your apartment, inside the comfort of your own home it all came crashing down onto you and you let it. You cried as you started a hot shower, kept crying as you brushed your hair out, and cried just that much harder when you pulled one of his shirts on over your head and curled up to try and get some much needed sleep. You hesitated when you reached for your phone, wondering if you should turn it back on and worried at what you might see, but with a deep sigh you caved. The messages were no surprise.

Please kid, come back.

I love you tiger, and I’m sorry.

Sniffling, you shoved the phone under your pillow and tried to sleep. It was in vain and you had a feeling it would be, the night dragging on as you held onto your pillow, your eyes barely closing for longer than a blink. It was too much, it was still too much, and now the added weight of Bill’s refusal to give you what you told him you needed just drove you further into your head. You couldn’t escape it anymore.

You tried to get comfortable, tried to relax enough to just get an ounce of the rest you needed, but it was completely futile. So when the first hints of dawn broke on a sleepless night, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration, wincing as they burned. Resigned to your fate, you threw back the sheets and stood. You eyed your phone as it dinged with a new message, but you left it there on the bed as you went to get a pot of coffee on.

You heard it ping with a message—then again a second later, and on the third one, you sighed and gave up. Reaching for it, the message tugged at something in you.

Tiger, please. I’ll give you space. Just please, kid—send me something to let me know you’re safe. It doesn’t even have to be a word. Just something. I need to know you’re safe.

You knew he meant it, and you knew that he was probably still going out of his mind with worry even though you left a note. You started typing out your response—a brief, curt sentence of just barely two words—but a noise from the front porch stopped you dead in your tracks.

A key. In the lock. The door opening. There was only one other person in the world who had a key to your apartment.

“Tiger!” You heard him bellow, and your blood ran cold. His footsteps thundered up your stairs, taking two and three at a time, and you raced to the front door just in time to slam the deadbolt across. He jammed his key in the lock, turning it and throwing your door open—only to have it come to an abrupt halt when the chain for the bolt caught.

“Tiger, open the fucking door,” he growled, squeezing his hand through to try and undo the chain.

“No, I’m not ready to see you,” you said meekly.

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re ready for kid, we’re going to talk,” he pulled the door forward before pushing it again, trying to jimmy the chain loose.

“No,” you said sternly, but he wasn’t having it.

“We tried it your way kid, now we’re going to do it my way,” he snarled, “Open the fucking door.”

“Go away, Bill,” you pleaded.

You heard his deep breath, followed by the sound of his footsteps retreating down the stairs and the front door slamming. You thought—just for a brief moment—that maybe it worked. Maybe you had convinced him.

Until you heard a commotion from the kitchen.

He had taken a running leap up the side of your apartment, balancing his foot on a drainage pipe for just a second to gain enough height to latch onto the stone ledge beneath your kitchen window. Tossing your screen open, in a feat of incredible strength—God, you forgot how strong he was sometimes—he pulled himself up. You ran to the kitchen just in time to see half of his upper body coming through the window, a leg following close behind and landing in your sink as he folded himself in half, squeezing through the frame. His limbs tangled and he couldn’t get a good angle so you watched, eyes wide, as his other leg came jutting through and he tumbled to the floor in your kitchen.

You stood there, stunned.

He looked up at you from the floor, his eyes blazing, as he slowly pushed himself upright. He didn’t break your gaze, didn’t even blink as he slowly advanced on you. His shoulders square, stretched up to his full height, he towered as he took slow strides towards you. You took one back for every one of his forward.

“Why do you run?” he growled, “Why do you. Always. Run.”

You were powerless, and as if to emphasize his point— because your mind was on survival mode–you turned and bolted. Tried to make it down the hallway but you barely got two steps away before his hand closed on your arm and he hauled you back with a force, slamming your back into the wall. He leaned down to be in your eyesight, placing his palms flat on the wall on either side and glowering at you.

His jaw ticked, and you gulped.

“Tiger, enough,” he growled, “Look at me.”

When you kept your eyes downcast, he took your chin in one of his hands and tilted your head up roughly.

“Look at me, and tell me why you ran,” he said, and it was that tone of voice—that authoritative, commanding tone of voice that even thick with emotion, had your knees almost giving out. The knot, that pit of fire that had been burning in your stomach for over a week, was starting to uncoil. Just barely.

“Because I was scared,” you mumbled, “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?” He demanded, and you looked down for a second before he was wrenching your chin up again “Look at me.”

“Because I asked you for something,” your voice shook and your lip quivered, “Something that I needed, and you told me no.”

“Why did I tell you no?” His eyes bore into yours.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled pathetically, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Tiger.”

“Because you didn’t want to hurt me,” you sniffled. And for the first time, you saw him soften. You felt his warm breath fan over your face as he sighed, releasing the vice grip on your chin to cup your face instead.

“Tiger, do you understand that?” He asked gently, “Why I said no? Why I didn’t want to hurt you?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, “Even though it wouldn’t hurt me. You spank me anyway, and I—”

He placed a finger over your mouth, and you stopped.

“Punishment is different. Punishment implies that I’m inflicting pain on purpose, hurting you on purpose. And I didn’t want to do that,” he said. You huffed, trying to push him away but he didn’t move.

“We had this conversation two days ago Bill,” you snapped, “I’m not having it again.”

“I’m not done,” he put his knee between your legs, placing a flat hand on your chest and keeping you pinned to the wall, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I still don’t. But I…I looked into it a bit more. And I understand a little better now, why you might need this. Some kind of punishment to set your mind back right again. I understand you a little better now.”

“What?”

“Tiger, I don’t need this. I forgave you a long time ago. But I understand why maybe it’s more…complicated, in your mind. Why you’re having more trouble with it. And if you still need what you asked me for, then I’ll give it to you.”

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze as you struggled to find words.

“You will?” You asked.

“Yes,” he said, and he took your cheek in his hand, “Do you still need it? Will it help?”

“Yes,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, “Please, Bill. It’ll help.”

He nodded once, bending to press his lips to yours in a lingering kiss.

“Go wait for me on the bed, then. Clothes off,” he took a slow step back, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

It took you a second to realize that he was serious, but then you got your feet under you and pushed off from the wall. You stopped on your way out the kitchen, turning around and walking back to him to pull him in for another kiss.

“Thank you, bud,” you whispered. He nodded again, jutting his chin down the hallway to get you moving again before he lost his nerve.

Once you were out of his sight, he took a few calming breaths—deep and steadying, before heading to the cabinet where you kept your liquor. Finding the Swedish one you never drank, he popped the cap off and downed a gulp right from the bottle before shaking his head to clear the fog. Swiping his thumb across his lip, he headed to your bedroom.

You were sitting cross legged on the bed, waiting for further instructions.

“Come here,” he called you over as he stood at the foot of the bed, “Get on all fours, kid.”

You did as you were told, and his hand stroked up your back. Knowing he’d ask for it, you turned to meet his eyes before the request left his lips.

“Tiger, this is for you. I don’t need this but I understand why you do, and I want to give you what you need.”

You nodded.

“But once it’s done—it’s done. You’re forgiven, and we’ll both put this behind us, okay? Promise me.” He continued.

“Yes,” you agreed, “I promise.”

“You’re going to get 5 kid,” he explained, “Count them out loud. What do you say if you want me to stop?”

“Pineapple,” you said, and your heart was already tripling in beats. You could feel it there—the absolution you needed, the one you craved, right at your fingertips.

“Or?”

“Red,” you replied obediently. He nodded, pushing your top half further into the mattress before reaching for a pillow, placing the corner near your mouth. You looked back at him in confusion.

“To bite down on, if you need to,” he explained, “Ready?”

You nodded. Gritting your teeth, you waited—and when the first strike hit you, your mind went blank. It hurt, it stung a lot more than when he would do it for pleasure, but all you felt was….relief.

“One,” you counted out. The weight, that devastating weight that had been crushing you for days was suddenly….dissolving. Disappearing. His hand pulled back, landing another hard strike on the fleshy part of your ass and you inhaled sharply, melting more into the mattress. You felt all of it—the guilt, the disappointment, the heaviness of the last few days just dissipating, replaced with the sweet resolution that punishment brought. The absence of thought. The quietness of it all, and the lightness of finally feeling forgiven.

“Two,” you squeaked out through gritted teeth. He pulled back, landing another hard one and you gasped, biting into the pillow that he had put for you. The absence of that guilt was giving way to something else, something you hadn’t felt since before you wandered into that forest alone—it was giving way to arousal. To the thrill, the feeling of finally getting what you need from the person you needed it from, the freedom of it all.

“Count, tiger,” his loud order broke through your thoughts, when you failed to call out the following strike.

“Three,” it was a deep groan, pain mixed in with pleasure as you wound your hands in the sheets. It was building, deep in your gut. Coiling tightly as every bad feeling, every bit of anxiety you had struggled with gave way to something much more intense, much more pleasurable.

His hand retracted, landing the hardest one yet as you tensed. Your entire mind was blank, pulsating with nothing but the absolute absence of everything that had been crushing you for so long, the thrumming of pleasure building. He knew, and he marvelled at it—he could smell your arousal, see the sheen of it between your legs as he brought his hand down hard. He saw the blush creep down your back, felt your muscles tense as you writhed slightly before him, saw the way you inched your legs closer together.

“Four,” you mumbled. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you had started to cry. It wasn’t out of pain, but out of just…relief. Tears soaked the pillow and you winced, but the pain brought the peace that you knew it would. The peace that you needed, the pleasure you craved, the relief.

He pulled his hand back a final time, landing it with a resounding slap as your back arched.

“Five,” you breathed out, and then you were being gathered in his arms.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “We’re done kid, we’re done.”

Wrapping you up in his embrace, he gently flipped you onto your back as you cried openly. He waited for your move, tried to see if you would reach for him or if you needed distance, but your hands immediately sought him out—grabbing at him until you had enough traction to pull him forward onto you.

“Bill,” you pleaded, grasping onto him as hard as you could, “Please…”

He knew what you needed, what you were asking for. He watched you as he glided his hand up your inner thigh, taking his time to gauge your reaction to make sure it was what you wanted, what you needed. You inhaled sharply when his fingers passed over you, stifling a moan as he ran them through your wetness, spreading you wide.

“Tiger, look at me,” he whispered as he kissed a few of your tears away. He ran his hand gently over your slit, pushing two fingers into you as you groaned. You opened your eyes to his.

“It’s done kid,” he pumped his fingers gently, “You’re forgiven.”

He crooked his fingers and you stifled a cry as he pressed them to the front of your walls, rubbing gentle circles. You were so wet, your arousal soaking his hand as he ground his palm into you. You were overwhelmed, every sense on fire—you could feel his fingers, long and slender, moving inside you. You could hear the obscene sound, wet and warm, as he moved his hand against you. You could smell him, feel his lips on your face, his warm breath on your cheek. You felt everything good, everything that had nothing to do with the emotions that had crushed you before.

“Bill…” you croaked, and he shushed you lightly.

“I know, sweet girl,” he praised. You cried out as his thumb found your clit, pressing down softly as his fingers continued to work you over.

“You did so well for me kid,” he purred, “You took it so well. And it’s done now. I forgive you.”

You sobbed as his fingers quickened just barely, hitting all the spots deep in you as you writhed. But you wanted more—you wanted to be greedy, ask for just a little bit more, to throw you over the edge.

“You can come for me, tiger,” he murmured as he kissed you, “Any time you need to.”

But you grit your teeth, tried to stave it off as you grabbed his hand between your legs to stay it.

“With you,” you begged, your voice cracking, “Please Bill, I want to come with you.”

His eyes flicked over you, his gaze intense and searching—but then he kissed you again, all tongue and teeth and passion, before gently removing his hand. You whimpered as he brought it to his lips, sucking both fingers into his mouth as he groaned at your taste. He raised up on his haunches, undoing his pants and shoving them to his knees before he made a move for you again, but you rested your hands on his chest.

“All of it, bud,” you pleaded, “Please, I need to feel as much of you as I can.”

You didn’t have to ask twice, he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and lifted a bit to pull his shirt over his head before he was reaching for you again. You kissed him hard, grabbing hold of his length and lining him up at your entrance as he pushed in slowly. Moaning, he grabbed your hand as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Tiger,” he moaned against your lips, “You’re forgiven.”

Your other hand raked down his back and he jerked forward, as your abdomen tightened in impending release.

“Yes,” you sighed against his mouth, keeping his gaze.

“Do you feel it now?” He whispered, “Is it more clear now?”

He kept his pace, his hips slowly rolling into you before dragging back in delicious friction, then pushing forward again.

“Yes,” you whimpered, closing your eyes for a brief second to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

“Say it,” he urged, sucking his breath in through his teeth when you clenched around him, “God you feel so good. Say it for me, kid.”

“You forgive me,” you cried, bringing a hand up to rake through his hair. His eyes stayed on you the entire time, green orbs bore into you as your muscles started to tighten, your breath started to hitch.

“Good girl,” he praised. He rolled his hips with a bit more force, burying himself deep inside you as you gasped. You tilted your chin up, shutting your eyes briefly as the pleasure slammed into you.

“Keep looking at me, tiger,” he pleaded, and with a gentle hand he brought your face back to his, “I want to see it, when you come for me.”

You whined, a pathetic whimper as you felt everything start to clench. You were so wet, so warm around him, and every time he pushed forward he rubbed further down on your clit. The pressure was building, your stomach tense and tight as everything started to go blank.

“Let go, sweet girl,” he coaxed, “Give it to me.”

And with your chin in his hand, his forehead on yours and your eyes locked with his, you let it slam into you. The white, hot flash of extreme pleasure, building for a few days and culminating in an intense release. It was emotions, it was physical, it was everything you had held way too deep inside for a few days. You cried out, clenching your teeth and eventually closing your eyes as you spasmed around him, surging forward. You bit into his shoulder to hold back a scream, your hand squeezing his as you let out a guttural groan when all of your muscles released. His own resonated in your ear soon after as he pitched forward, driving you hard into the mattress as his hips worked against yours. He moaned, his breath coming in rasps as he held onto your hand, the other one gripping the sheets. A few more thrusts, slow and lazy but deep enough to still have you pleasure drunk, and he collapsed breathless on top of you.

You laid there for a long moment, all of your limbs wrapped around him as tears flowed freely down your face. It was silent except for your cries, small sniffles and whimpers that you couldn’t control, as you buried your face in his chest.

“I love you, kid,” he murmured in your ear, “It’s done now. Yes?”

“Yes,” you nodded emphatically, kissing any part of him you could reach, “It’s done.”

He raised slightly, kissing first your ear, then peppering them along your jaw eventually resting his lips on yours for a soft kiss.

“You feel forgiven?” He asked.

“Yes,” you sighed, tilting up to kiss him again, “Yes.”

“Good,” he rested his forehead lightly against yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You reached your mouth for it, kissing it lightly and nipping the pad of it playfully. He laughed, pulling you into his chest as he rolled over onto his side. But then you remembered something, something you had wanted to ask him about, and your brow creased with confusion.

“Bill,” you started, his thumb still resting on your mouth and warbling your speech, “Before, you said that you…looked into this more. And that you understood it better now. What did you mean?”

His lips pursed thoughtfully as he contemplated his response.

“I just read up on some stuff,” he murmured.

“What stuff?” You prodded. He sighed.

“I just read up on…subs. Submissive dynamics,” he explained cautiously, “And what they need. How guilt and punishment comes into play, and why it’s sometimes necessary. For them to feel better.”

“Oh.”

He eyed you carefully, tapping his thumb against your lips and you opened for it readily. You took a second, sucking on the pad of it and looking up at him.

“But…I’m not a sub,” you said, your words muffled as you sucked on it. A wry smile quirked up the tips of his mouth.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. You adjusted his thumb in your mouth, using your tongue to push it into your cheek as you glared at him.

“Bill, I’m not a sub,” you insisted. He nodded, his lips twitching as he fought to conceal a smile.

“Right,” he said, “You’re not a sub.”

Satisfied with his response even though it was slightly insincere, you moved forward to tuck your head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Thank you, bud,” you mumbled. He kissed your head, stroking your back.

“I need to check you over kid,” he murmured, “Make sure you’re okay.”

“We have a lot of time,” you mumbled, your eyes getting heavy, “Right now, just keep holding me.”

His arms tightened around you, a hand weaving its way into your hair, as you finally exhaled for the first time in days.

#BFF!Bill #sub tiger #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard fic #bill skarsgard drabble

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boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

A Shelby in Margate

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Shelby Sister (OFC), Tommy Shelby

Summary: Penny Shelby has only wanted one thing, to not be a Shelby. Perhaps the man she’s loved from afar can help her with that.

Warnings/Tags: Angst and Fluff. CONTAINS SEASON 5 SPOILERS.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

A Shelby sister is something no one asks to be, and certainly something no one really wants. Especially when the relationship to a very bold and brash man named Tommy Shelby causes such grief in your life that you give up on finding a happiness that most women expect out of life and you move forward with the form of Scarlet Letter on your face that being Shelby lends.

Penelope or Penny Shelby was as crude and difficult as the rest of her siblings. Born after Tommy and before Ada, her darling sass of a little sister that she took great pride in helping raise. With the Romani blood running fiercely in her veins just like her Aunt Polly, before Tommy was a household name in Birmingham she could’ve gotten away with saying she wasn’t a Shelby at all due to the dark complexion she held. Olive skin set her apart and caused her enough trouble from the prejudice of the travelers and Irish alike she came from. She held that same icy blue eyes of her older brother, and hair as black as the coal from the fires they grew up with. A smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks like her mother and a glare that could cause a grown man to tremble like her closest Aunt Polly.

Despite her strong exterior, the pain and turmoil of her life, mostly derived from her older brothers had left her soft and weary on the inside. She drank to cope, as did they all. She didn’t turn to the drugs, as if Tommy would’ve ever let her hear the end of it. She had been stronger, both inside and out only a few years prior. The final blow leaving her gaunt and haunted was the loss of a man she had thought of as her own, even if he never had been in any formal sense. Oh, how she’d loved him. His ability to outsmart her seemingly unstoppable brother, his smart mouth and intimidating physique. He was unlike anything she’d ever experienced and found herself enamored with the only slightly older man who she saw as her escape from forever being known as a Shelby.

There were few names as infamous as Solomons, and she knew that name would be her ticket out of the shadow of her brother. Unfortunately, Alfie was a bit more hesitant than she. Not that she wasn’t a lovely little bird, reminding him of some forest nymph from a fairy tale his mother would’ve told him as child with her haunting eyes and a smile so out of place with its genuine affection for him among a clan of troublesome Shelby’s it made his chest stir in a way he feared. She had proven herself loyal to him, little hints she knew he was clever enough to catch in the fleeting moments alone they shared. He knew she fancied him, lingering touches of her hand to his as she spoke softly and quietly. Eye contact that never wavered and that bloody smile she only had for him. It wasn’t until an encounter that her brother didn’t know about to this day, that he finally knew her intention.

“Penny, love? What are you doing here?”

“Saving your stubborn arse.” she chokes out, hands shaking with the heavy pistol between them, still smoking from the bullet just gone through the Italians head that was about the draw on him.

“Does your brother know you-”

“Fuck Tommy!” the tears finally break in her eyes and begin their descent down her cheeks. She lowers the gun and lays it on a crate beside her, slumping onto a hip height box with the exhaustion shown on her face. “He’s the reason John’s dead. The reason why these fucking wops are after us. And now YOU. I can’t lose anyone else.”

“There there, pet.” he says pushing the gun away and not knowing what to do except take her hand.

“I came to tell you they were coming for you. I overheard it. I couldn’t let them kill you, Alfie, I can’t lose you too.” she begins to sob, something he never thought a Shebly was capable of at that point. Grabbing his shirt she pushes herself into his arms.

“Lose me?”

“Alfie you’re too clever to not know how I feel about you.” she shakes her head and doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I had…suspected.” he pauses, his gut hurting for the poor lass. “But your brother.”

“I said FUCK TOMMY SHELBY! I never asked for this! I don’t want to BE a Shelby! I’m done. Finished. I can’t take life in his shadow.”

“Penny…love…” he says softly, “I”m leavin’ ya know. Retirin’. I’m finished with this life, I know they’re comin’ for us all. And I’m takin’ my gains and I’m gone.”

“Where?”

“That’s no concern for you. The less you know the better.”

“Take me with you.”

“That would be the end of me.” he lets out an amusing sound, almost a laugh.

“Alfie. I’ve admired you from afar for so long. It feels almost childish to think of you as my own when we’ve never even discussed it. We’ve barely been allowed time alone. But I feel something so strongly for you. It must be love.”

“You are not a child at all. And I’ve known by the way that bloody smile takes me out at my knees like a steel pipe that there was somethin’ there.” He sees the hope flicker in her eyes and his heartbreaks. “But we can’t. I’m not the man for you. As much as I’d like to be. It ain’t me love.”

She leaves with gunpowder on her hands and tears staining her dress that night. The news he was dead found her not too long after that. And now she stood mere yards away, unknowingly, from the man she’d loved from afar that she had mourned and still thought was dead.

—–

“What fuckin’ else can I do for ya Tom? From the way that hats being wrung I know that ain’t all ya want of me.” Alfie gruffs, reclined in his velvet chair that faces that balcony of his mansion in MArgate where he hides.

“There is one more person… that I want to know you’re alive.” his voice is as flat and dead as his face lends you to believe he is.

“Not asking for much, eh?” Alfie raises a brow. “Who?”

“Someone that deserves to know.” the way his shoulders slouched told Alfie everything he needed to know. Guilt that sat heavy on Tommy’s shoulders for what he’d almost done. And not for Alfie’s sake, but for Penny’s.

“Mmmph.” he nods. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Best she thinks I”m dead. What use as I to her now?”

“I knew she loved you.” he states plainly.

A fact that Alfie actually hadn’t known. “Did you?”

“You think I don’t know me own baby sister?” he asks with a slight twist of anger.

“Said no such thing.”

“You’ll want to thank her for Cyril being taken such good care of. She’s treated that dog as if it were her own son.” a ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “That is after she cried for a month after she heard you were dead.” he pauses. “You know she cried more over you than her own husband?”

Alfie only nods. Knowing like most women her age her first husband died in the war. He realizes she had truly meant what she said. “We never…” Alfie clears his throat. “Y’know.” his attempts at being respectful amuse Tommy deeply.

“I knew that too.” he nods.

“Why do you want to hurt the poor girl again?”

“She visits your grave, Alfie. Just the other day she was telling Cyril stories of his papa.”

Alfie’s stomach turns. Had he made a mistake? Had he been too selfish.

“I take it by you being here she doesn’t know you’re the one what done it.”

“She does not.”

“Mmm. And how are you going to work around that?”

“Once she knows you are not dead I won’t have to.”

“I know you’re gambling man Tommy but those are steep odds. Against you, I might add.”

“I know her. She’ll forgive me.”

“That's’ what you bank on every time innit?”

Tommy glares at him. A silence falls between them as Alfie looks out to the sea from the open set of doors on the balcony.

“Alright.” Alfie grunts and sits up, taking a deep breath. “Since she’s taken care of my dog. ‘Spose she deserves to know.” he nods, taking a heavy sigh. “But I might frighten her now. She won’t be seein’ who I was.”

“I’ve heard her prayers, Alfie. When she thinks no one, not even God is listenin’ to her anymore. She won’t be frightened.”

A grunt is all he can say to such a thing.

“I’ll go fetch her.” Tommy says as he groans and stands.

“Ya fuckin’ what? Now?”

“She’s just outside.”

“What the fuckin’ hell Tom?” he gruffs out angrily. “Ya can’t just appear to a man in such a way and demand things of him in a state like I am!”

“She deserves to know,” he states plainly again. “I brought her because I didn’t want you going back on your word after you had time to think about it.”

Alfie gives his signature frown. A bottom lip jutted over his mustache in frustration. “Fuckin’ ‘ell. Not even had time to think ‘bout it!”

“That’s the purpose this serves. She deserves to have a real reaction. Not your carefully crafted answers.”

“What do you want of me Tom?” he asks plainly. “You surely don’t want her to be with me? Especially not NOW.” he juts the scarred side of his face forward.

“It’s no issue to me how you look. That’d be up to her, wouldn’t it? But have you known Penny to be shallow?”

Alfie sits back in his chair, elbows on his knees and looks at the dusty rug beneath his boots. “Lass is as deep as the ocean.” he mutters. She’d told him everything he as to her, a body was nothing but a vessel for his soul she said. Something he’d thought a bit naive back then, but upon reflection he found it taking a new meaning to him. Maybe a Shelby was right about something stranger things had happened.

“Then I’ll fetch her. I suggest you figure out which side of yourself you’re going to be honest with.”

—–

Penny in her summer dress wanders the garden as she was instructed, feeling the kiss of a sea salt breeze against her face. She loved the sea, and so rarely had seen it, felt it against her skin. The open expanse of it, the infinite mystery and possibility it held fascinated her. Tommy’s voice breaks her from her reflection, leaning against a stone wall and looking out at the waves crashing into the daunting cliffs.

“Come now Penny, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

She nods and fusses with her windblown hair. “This house is lovely.” she almost coos as she crosses the threshold.

Alfie hears her voice. What sort of man had he been to hurt her how he did. To prolong it in such a way. She was a rose among the thorns of her family, the women the only ones worth a damn out of them. She’d saved his life, took in a painful reminder of him and cared for Cyril after he was gone, kept his memory alive and he’d abandoned her. If she shot him where he stood he’d deserve it.

“Look at all this.” he can feel the genuine lilt like a songbird to her voice. “Who lives here? This place is fantastic. Look at all these interesting and eclectic things. You could spend hours and never see the end of it.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Tommy says standing in the archway into the room where Alfie stood. “Here’s the owner. You can discuss it all with him.” What a loaded statement and delivered so cooly.

Penny walks slowly, taking in her surroundings with great interest before her head turned and saw the man silhouetted in the light of the sun, framed by two open patio doors with that same sea breeze fluttering the long curtains that hung. She freezes, eyes fluttering in confusion. That posture, that build. The vest and the white billowy sleeves. A glint of light of the rings that adorned his overworked hands. It was him.

“Wh-I- H-how?” she whispers out, not even loud enough for Alfie to hear, but Tommy heard every beat of her heart as he watched the realization come over her face.

“‘Ello, love.” that warm, liquor voice that burned and soothed hit her like a hammer, taking her knees out from under her as Tommy caught her.

She squeaks and tears appear hot and plentiful in her eyes. “You can’t…you…” her breathing wheezes and she holds onto Tommy for support, her body failing her out of shock.

He turns his good side first, seeing her just as lovely as she ever had been. Sun-kissed skin from the season spent in the north in the caravans, that long wavy hair that framed her shocked face, touseled perfectly by the winds of MArgate. Despite the posh sort of dress Tommy was now known for, she was still in simple cotton. Her boots tight around her ankles and shiny, dirt under her nails from the garden. A salt of the earth woman that was wrongfully placed in the shit hole of Birmingham away from nature where she belonged.

“Alfie.” she finally forces out.

“Yeah, love. I’m afraid it’s me.” he says with a pain in his voice, one of fear of rejection as he lets the light show his true side as he called it. The side of him that showed what a monster he had been, the monster he was.

Her face remains unchanged. “Alfie you…” she wheezes and gasps, he takes a step towards her and she pushes out of her brother’s arms. Stumbling with the numbness in her limbs as she finds herself once again sobbing into the shirt of the man she still loved. No matter how hard she’d tried not to over these last years.

“There, there, pet.” he says just as he had the last time she’d heard it, but this time it is accompanied by the wrapping of warm and affectionate arms around her. He shushes her as she cries, soaking his shirt and hiccuping, a hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing her back. All things she’d dreamed of so often she’d lost track of if they’d ever happened or not.

“Is this real? Or did I jump off the cliffs outside and now I’ve somehow found myself not in hell?” she manages to get out with her forehead pressed to his chest.

“You’d most certainly go to heaven. And since I am here with you, I’m afraid that means we’re both very much still alive.”

“HOW? I heard you were shot!” her voice break as she looks up from his chest to meet his face. Seeing nothing but the man she’d longed for. She’d told God she didn’t care what state he was in, just give him back to her. Her last chance at happiness, her last shot to have someone who truly could understand her and her life.

“I was. As you can tell.” he shrugs his shoulder on the marked side of his face. Just as Tommy as said, and Alfie is fully frustrated he was correct, she reaches up to touch his face without even an inkling of regret or fear o disgust.

“Are you still hurt?” is her concern and he takes a long, deep breath to compose himself. He didn’t deserve her. Maybe he’d known all along and that was why he’d told her now. Because deep down, who gave a fuck what Tommy Shelby thought.

“It does sometimes, yeah.” he nods, speaking softly as her fingertips move over the raised scar on his cheek, looking over the milky eye that was blinded by the same bullet that made the disfigurement she was touching as if was perfect skin. “Certainly doesn’t right now though.” his voice is quiet, looking into her bright eyes full of tears for him.

One dark eye under the same heavy brow and a fuller beard now that hid those full lips, unphased by the shot, beaming down at her with what she could’ve sworn was affection. “How?”

“Man that shot me can’t shoot worth a damn is how.”

He sees storm clouds darken her eyes in a more clear moment of recognition. “Who?”

“That’s a question for your brother.” he leans in close, almost touching his forehead to hers.

She spins out of his arms, suddenly full of vengeance and steady. “Who?” she demands.

Tommy takes his stand. “I did.”

“YOU BASTARD!” she lunges at him and is whisked off her feet by Alfie.

“Can’t argue with that.” Tommy mumbles.

“YOU KNEW! YOU FUCKING KNEW HOW I FELT ABOUT HIM AND YOU TRIED TO KILL HIM? YOU FUCKING WANK STAIN! YOU ABSOLUTE MAD BASTARD!” she screams and fights against Alfie’s arms to maim her brother. He would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been so focused on keeping her from hurting herself.

“I asked him to!” Alfie shouts and he feels her little legs stop kicking.

Her head shakes in confusion. It was a lot on the poor lass to take in all at once. “Wha-What?” she squeaks and keeps her eyes on Tommy as Alfie sits her feet back to the floor.

Tommy stands with a confident nod. Not sure if he was proud that Alfie took credit for what had happened, because he had all but pulled the trigger.

“I asked him to, Penny.”

“Why?!” she screeches with a hand to her chest as she faces him, back humped over and heart feeling as if it might give out.

“The doctor. Wrongfully so told me I had cancer love.”

Once again her knees fail her as he scoops her up into his arms, seeing her head wobble and eyes lose focus.

“Poor things gonna faint.” he mutters, sitting in his chair and pulling her into his lap.

“She’ll be fine. Give her a moment.” Tommy says with complete faith. He was asking a lot of her, but he knew she could take it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone through with it. As hard as he was, as much as he’d agree he was a mad bastard, he didn’t want to purposely hurt his sisters. It just so happened they got in the way of his plans at times and Penny found herself right in the middle of them currently.

“C-cancer?” she asks with a gasp of air, fighting to stabilize herself. She felt light-headed, but the arms around her helped, the beat of the heart under her palm helped the most.

“Yeah. Told me I was gonna die. I didn’t wanna waste away y’know? Not any sort of death for a man to face.” she shook his head. “Your brother and I. Had a…sort of agreement. To kill one another if it came down to it, yeah?”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?”

Her brash tone makes him chuckle. “The correct response, yes love. “ he nods. “I was told I was dyin’. Had Tommy meet me on that beach out there to kill me. And he thought he did. But add it to the long list of things your brother innit good at.”

His brows shift and rise and fall across her face, eyes wide and questioning. “You thought you were going to die. So you wanted ti over with.”

“I told you she’d understand.” Tommy adds from across the room, staying silent and still.

“Of course my friend’s mum… it would’ve been a kindness to end it for her.” she reflects. “So… you knew?” she asks with hands no longer shaking. “When I… told you about…how I…:

“I did.” he nods. “I wasn’t gonna put you through that. That’s not…that ain’t me, love.”

“I would have.” she states with conviction and his shoulders falter at the hurt in her eyes. “I mourned you. I cried until nothing came out any longer. I drank, I took pills, tonics, hoping to wake up wherever you were. I would’ve still…It wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“You don’t mean that…”

“Don’t tell me what I fucking mean Alfie!”

Tommy smiles from across the room.

“Right, right, sorry mate.” he sputters out with true surprise in his raised brow. Something about this little lady cut him down from newly adorned god status to a man stuttering in apology. Tommy knew at that moment he’d made the right decision.

Her breathing heavy and fast, she glares at him. “My head is spinning, my heart is on fire and my stomach feels like it’s gonna fall out my arse and I don’t know if want to kill you myself or .or,..” her bottom lip gives her away, a hand to his cheek as she shakes her head and groans.

“…love me?” he asks with a raise of the brow he could. It was a gamble to ask. But with her heart racing like a hummingbird, he could feel against his own chest where she sat.

“How dare you,” she whispers back. But her face isn’t offended, a thumb drifting softly over his blind eye and to his temple. “I can kill you and still love you.” she offers with a smile finally gracing her lips. “I have…I mean, I do. Still. Even now.”

“With me lookin’ like this.”

“Like what? Like a strong man who defied death? Don’t be daft Alfie. I wanted you back no matter what. And I meant it. I meant despite you hiding, letting me think you were dead. Oh, letting poor Cyril think you were dead.” her brows furrow and his heart warms like it hadn’t in decades.

He gives her a smile she finds most peculiar. She’d never seen it before on his face.

“What?” she whispers.

“You, love.”

“What about me?”

The smile remains, followed by a sigh as he looks over her face. Hurt, but holding no hate for him. He puts his hand to her cheek to mirror her own delicate actions. “Why me Penny, eh? Surely other men deserve a woman like you more than me.”

“No other man can handle me. And you know this.”

Another, wider grin from him.

“If I could choose who I love, and I can’t, I’d choose someone else because I know you would be nothing but a pain in the arse but….goddammit Alfie I do.” she gives his face a little shake and presses her forehead to his.

“I don’t deserve a woman like you. You know that right?”

“No one deserves anything, Alfie. You know this. Things just happen.”

“Fuck me, I really don’t deserve ya.” he groans and kisses her forehead.

“But do you want me? Did you ever?”

“You should know I did. I only wanted to protect you.”

“What about now?” she asks with brave eyes that pierce into his, not allow him to look away. “There’s nothing to hide behind now. No protecting me. Just… end it now or let this be the beginning.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell…” he sighs. “How are you a Shelby with a mind that says things like that?” A slow sweep of his thumb over her lips makes her eyes shut and held her breath for an answer. A man like him couldn’t touch a woman like this without something in his heart for her, could he? “I… did and I…do. A man like me… he’s not so good at matters of the heart. The mind is where my talents lie.”

“Then let this be your first lesson.” she kisses the tip of his thumb. “Tell me you love me.”

“Penny I-”

“Thomas, leave.” she interrupts, both hands on Alfie’s face, that smile he’d missed and dreamed of from time to time back and in full force, assaulting his sensibility.

“Already got my hat on. You know my number.” he says and saunters away, content by the way things had played out.

“Now tell me Alfie, love. Let me hear it.” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against his.

“I love you Penny.” he manages with closed eyes. “You’re strong and brilliant. Not suited for the name of Shelby at all.”

She smiles against his lips, feeling the words warm over her skin like honey tea. “Perhaps you could come up with a way to change that?” she grins and he’s blessed with her soft laugh once again.

“I do believe I could.” he coos and finally gives her the soft kiss that she’d been dreaming of. A promise she’d get what she always wanted, to not be called Shelby.

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