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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

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I’ve been thinking about this for a while, do you think Charles,Barbara, Eugenia and Anna were close? Anna maybe less because she’s closer in age to the merry thieves set and she probably ghosted Charles after the Ariadne engagement. Would you consider a fic of them all growing up, starting with them 4 as little kids and then slowly becoming teens and adults and then dealing with Barbara’s death. I think it would be a fun idea since nobody ever considers them to be a older merry thieves.

You can thank my social anxiety for this one bc I stress wrote it in school 🙃

TW: panic attacks, death

Title: When we were young

Characters: Barbara Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Alexander Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Anna was sitting by the fire when Charles came into the room. She hated him. She truly did. But, somehow, at that moment, she felt strange. He looked at her and it took her many years back, to when they weren’t exactly friends, but they were far from what they are now to each other.

…

“And that was how Consul Wentworth fixed the crisis of 1687.” Charles said with a satisfied smile to himself.

The Lightwood girls were his audience. Well, sort of. Eugenia’s cheek was resting on her fist, squishing the right side of her face as her lidded eyes approached shutting completely. Anna was slumped against Eugenia, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes opened wide, staring at a fixed spot on the floor. Their luminous dark blue glittered in the witchlight, looking exquisitely uncanny. Barbara was mid-yawn, leaning on the leg of a sofa.

“Wow, Charles. Thanks for the history lesson.” Eugenia said, monotonously. It was evident that she’d inherited her mother’s sass from the day she was born, when Barbara had woken her up by exclaiming at the sight of her newborn sister, and Genie responded by pulling her sister’s hair.

“Oh, and in 1690-“

“NO!” All three Lightwood daughters shrieked.

“I’m still not done, though.” Said Charles.

“Yes, you are.” Eugenia said, standing up and settling the matter. “We are positively bored. There is absolutely nothing to do except listen to Charles talk about politics, and if those are the only two options, frankly, I’d rather be bored.”

Charles crossed his arms. “Being an intellect is not boring.”

Little two year old Anna looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“I swear, Thomas is having a better time than we are,” Eugenia said glaring at to where their parents were, with the tiny, almost invisible baby nestled in Gideon’s arms, his fingers wrapped around Sophie's thumb. The parents were all laughing about something, which made Eugenia scowl even more.

“To be an adult.” Barbara said, with a martyred sigh.

“We needn’t be adults to have fun.” Charles said.

“I suppose you’re going to torture us with more political trivia.”

“No,” Charles said. “I was going to suggest we go through the attic.”

The girls looked up at this and Charles smirked, clearly proud of himself at having come up with a good idea. For once.

“What is in the attic?”

Charles shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s probably strange and obscure things. There’s a lot of that kind of stuff in our house.”

Barbara and Eugenia exchanged a look before the eldest Lightwood sister turned to him.

“We shall go and discover this mysterious attic you speak of.”

…

“What could this even be?” Barbara said, holding up a loose gear-like contraption.

“Papa sometimes builds things out of clockwork.” Charles said, sitting cross legged. “Or, he used to at least.”

“That’s…”

Genie and Charles looked at Barbara as she trailed off.

“Nevermind, I have no comment.”

Charles nodded as though that was a common reaction people had in terms of his father’s experiments.

They rummaged through boxes upon boxes, finding momentos they didn’t understand such as papers upon papers of things that said many difficult words. They could distinguish a couple of words such as “infernal” and “devices”, however there were many that made no sense to them.

“What is a Mortmain?” Asked Genie.

“I think it’s an undead horse or something along those lines,” said Charles.

“Oh,” said Eugenia. “That’s disgusting.”

“Quite,” agreed Barbara.

Anna was toddling around the room, giggling. She almost tripped over a loose floorboard, and would have, had Charles not reached out and grabbed a hold of the back of her dress.

“This is too dangerous for a small child like Anna,” Barbara said, ever the mother-goose. “I shall take her downstairs before she hurts herself.”

Anna protested at first, but acquiesced once Barbara bribed her with the promise of dessert.

…

“What are you doing here?” Anna asked.

He looked up, his green eyes meeting her blue ones.

…

Charles remembered that day like it was just yesterday.

He and Eugenia had stayed behind rifling through boxes, which wasn’t unwelcome, as Eugenia and Charles had an easy, lighthearted and, at times, profound, friendship. Despite their age gap, they enjoyed each other’s company, though neither could say why. Perhaps, it was simply because they mocked each other. Or perhaps, it was sometimes they would occasionally talk about things such as philosophy, and whether what they were seeing was true, or the world was just a figment of their imaginations. Or a mixture of the two; they’d never really discussed it.

Eugenia surprised him when she said, “do you ever feel… different from your parents?”

Charles furrowed his brows, “in what aspect?”

“Love.”

“Have you a suitor?” Charles inquired, intrigued.

“No. Actually, that was my question. I find that, sometimes, I don’t only enjoy the idea of a male suitor, but perhaps, I also enjoy the company of a woman. Perhaps.” She pressed her lips together tightly, as if forcing herself to stop speaking.

Charles looked at her, his bright green eyes wide. “I-um-…”

“But I’m not sure, of course.” Eugenia blurted out. “It’s not as if shadowhunters are precisely fond of that particular preference or-“

“Do you really think they wouldn’t like it?” Charles asked, softly. “Do you believe they will reject those who are like that?”

Eugenia looked down. “I’m afraid I’m most sure of it.”

Charles had then realized that he couldn’t have both. There was no way around it.

He knew his parents were happy and that love made them complete. However, they didn’t have to choose. They could be married and the idea wouldn’t affect their respective occupations. Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be Consul and have the kind of love he wanted. He almost resented them because of it. They were able to do what they loved and nobody forced them to pick between one or the other.

It was unfair. So incredibly unfair.

“I guess you better get rid of your feelings towards women than.” He said simply, “unless you’re willing to let something as simple as love get in the way of your dreams.”

“Dreams?” Eugenia asked, looking confused and a tiny bit hurt.

But Charles got up to go back downstairs to his parents, aunts and uncles.

…

Charles slumped down in a chair and dug his fingers into his hair.

“She was just here.” He said quietly. “Babs, was just here.”

Anna felt sudden rage. “You are not allowed to mourn her.”

Charles looked up. “Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I can’t be sad. She was my cousin too. Perhaps not by blood, but she was still a cousin.” He pressed his lips together angrily and stared fixedly at the witchlight stone that was illuminating the room.

Anna, however, couldn’t find it in her to be diplomatic; she got up and left the room.

…

Anna had never seen Eugenia look this way. She was always put together, posh. But now, she looked hollow. Like a shell of who she used to be. Anna wanted to go up to her, to say something, but she felt lost for words. What did you tell someone who lost a dear sister? If Anna felt sorrow, she couldn’t imagine what Eugenia was feeling.

Her head was tilted upwards, looking up at the pyre where the corpse of her sister lay. Tears were streaming down her face, rolling down her cheeks, throat and chest, leaving streaks on her face that looked like the roots of a tree.

Sophie had her arm around her daughter. The sight of the four of them was very strange. There was a gap missing where Barbara should have been. She suddenly felt a hand take hold of her own. She looked to her right and saw her mother looking straight ahead, squeezing her daughter’s hand. Her father was looking down, holding Alex. Her baby brother was one of the few who looked up at the cousin who’d taught him to play simple songs on the piano, and had always let him sleep in her arms on New Year's eve.

She didn’t know what he must have been thinking now, staring up at the pyre.

Though, to be fair, she didn’t quite know what to think herself, as she looked up at the cousin who’s life was cut far too short.

…

Eugenia’s body didn’t feel like her own. She hadn’t felt this body was her own for a while. Even since Augustus and the secret she’d kept to herself.

This was somehow worse. To be torn away from your best friend, whom you’d shared a room with almost your entire life. Eugenia didn’t know how to live in a world without Barbara. Sometimes, in the rare moments when she forgot about her sadness, she’d call her sister’s name, ready to tell her about what had happened in her novel. Or find herself walking to Barbara’s room without thinking and then staring blankly at the door that has remained shut ever since the day she passed away.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d found a letter Barbara had sent her when she’d been in Idris. It was in between her copy of Jane Eyre. She couldn’t bring herself to read it in its entirety, but she stared at the signature blankly.

Suddenly, she got the urge to run. So she ran. That’s how, an hour later, she’d gotten a small tattoo under her ankle that said “Sincerely, your favorite sister Babs.”

It felt right to have Bab’s signature there, we’re only she could see. It made her feel accompanied everywhere she went, even though nobody else could see.

Now, looking up at the pyre, her face tight from tears she’d left to dry, her mother weeping silently, she could almost imagine that her sister was there, simply caught in a slumber and that she’d wake up at any moment and come tumbling down, throwing herself in Eugenia’s arms.

Any moment now, she thought when the pyre burst into flames.

“Ave atque vale, Barbara Lightwood.” The crowd said at once.

Eugenia shook her head and swayed on her feet. Her breathing became heavy and her fingers began prickling. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. No nononono.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, vaguely that it was her father’s.

Not Barbara.

Not Babs.

“Calm down, Genie.”

Not her sister. Her sister couldn’t possibly be up there.

“Breathe Eugenia.”

She wanted to scream that she couldn’t, that she’d never breathe again, as long as her sister wasn’t breathing with her. Why did she have to live? She would have much preferred that Barbara live in her stead.

The world was numb and fractured, never to be fixed again.

…

(Don’t worry, Gideon was able to help Genie after the fic ends bc he’s the best dad)

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @ninacarstairss @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @icouldnotask @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures @ti-bae-rius @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @readersconfessions812 @nightshade3465 @livvyheronstairs @zemiraa @proudtobealuthor @neurogliadudette @theenchanteddreamer @cheeseandmacarons

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#tsc #tlh #eugenia lightwood #barbara lightwood #charles buford fairchild #gabriel lightwood #anna lightwood #cecily lightwood #cecily herondale #tlh fanfic #tlh fanfiction #the last hours #tid #sophie lightwood #gideon lightwood

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emmyhem · 3 years

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right where you left me (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everybody! so this is a bit of a longer one that is inspired by the song “right where you left me” by taylor swift on evermore. it’s one of my favorites by her because i love the writing and the concept. whether you’re a taylor fan or not i suggest reading and then listening to the song with the fic in mind, it makes the song hit extremely hard. also expect more taylor inspired stuff in the future because she’s one of my all time favorite artists. this one is sad but i live for the angst so what’re you gonna do? my calum piece, “everything you’re missing” should be up by the end of the week and i’m working hard on my very first michael and ashton pieces as well, which is really exciting. anyway i hope you all enjoy and are being safe (get vaccinated if you can!) once again my messages are always open and feedback/criticism is always appreciated. hugs and kisses to all, thanks - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: you met 20 year old luke hemmings in a coffee shop eight years ago and were sure your life had been decided. you once told him you’d wait for him until you were sure he was happier without you. you never thought that day would actually come.

warning(s): angst, cursing, alludes to possible infidelity, it’s a sad one so buckle in.

word count: 6.2k

Current time - December 14th

The familiar ring of the entrance bell pulled your attention from the worn book beneath your fingers to take a routine glance at the patrons rushing in from the early December chill. Mitten covered hands, and icy cold flushed cheeks entered one after the other. Your typical seat in the corner of the small cafe was shielded from the penetrating winds that accompanied each person in their entrance but you still shivered in sympathy at each new arrival.

Your steaming earl grey had faded into a tepid puddle at the bottom of your mug as the hours passed on the analog clock that adorned the brick wall in the front. Olive, a barista you had become friendly with over the years approached your table with the cafe’s winter speciality, an orange cranberry muffin in hand.

“Last one.” she said, sitting it on a pine green napkin in front of you.

You reached into your purse for a few spare bills to cover the cost when she stopped you by placing a hand on your forearm.

“On the house for our favorite customer.” her eyes were filled with pity as she nodded down to you, and you were too tired to feel embarrassed.

“Thanks, Liv.” you sighed.

“It’s my pleasure, besides I always feel like we’re robbing you when you pay full price, you only ever eat half anyway.” she added as she walked away.

You picked at the baked good, memories flooding your brain with each bite.

Eight years ago - December 14th

As you clutched your books with a death grip you cursed yourself for forgetting your gloves in your dorm. The wind was picking up and it wouldn’t be long until they were numb completely, and your sweater paws were less than effective in warming your frozen fingers.

A flickering red light glowed just a bit down the street and a sugary citrus aroma was pulling your stiff limbs towards it against the wind. The closer you got the more mouthwatering the smell became and soon enough you had reached the door, bracing yourself for the chill of the copper handle as you pulled it open.

Sweet, warm air enveloped you as you stepped inside. The red brick walls were chipped in more than a few places, red and green christmas lights twinkle from a tree in the corner, and the crackling of the fireplace was like music to your ears. You wondered how you had never noticed the quaint cafe before as you took your place in line behind a tall man wearing only a thin black hoodie and beanie for protection from the cold weather. As you got closer to him a piney scent cut through the sweet smell of pastries and you caught yourself leaning in to get a better whiff of its freshness.

Your eyes scanned over the menu that hung behind the cash register while he ordered and did your best to ignore the chill that ran up your spine when his soft aussie accent invaded your ears.

Once he finished and stepped off to the side to wait for his order you moved forward and placed your books on the counter.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” a young ginger barista with an abundance of freckles said.

“Hi,” you paused and located her name tag. “Olive, I’ve never been here before but there's this smell that-”

“Our orange cranberry muffins.” she interrupted pointing to a chalkboard in front of her that read, “Warm up with a wintery treat, try our famous orange cranberry muffin today!”

Your stomach growled quietly at the thought as you nodded.

“I would love one of those and...a medium early grey, please.” you replied, pulling a 10 dollar bill from your pocket.

“Sadly, we have just sold our last one to the customer in front of you.” she nodded to the enticing blonde man that had caught your attention earlier, who was now staring down at his black vans as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

You narrowed your eyes at the muffin thief when he glanced up at you innocently while accepting his coffee from another worker.

“We do still have our gingerbread and pumpkin muffins if you’d be interested in one of those instead.” Olive continued motioning a hand to the glass display of tasty treats to your right.

You let out a disappointed huff, “That’s okay, just the tea please.”

You paid for your order making sure to leave a few extra dollars in the tip jar before taking a seat on a worn burgundy couch near the fire to wait for your drink.

Leaning your head against your hand for support you allowed your eyes to drift closed and listen to the pops and crackles of the fire meshing with the soft holiday music echoing through the place. You only opened your eyes back up at the feeling of the couch dipping beside you.

Sitting too close to not acknowledge, was the boy from earlier who was now alternating sips of what smelled like a strong latte with bites of the muffin that could’ve been yours.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

His head snapped in your direction at the sound of your voice, and he finished chewing before responding.

“Doing what?”

“Taunting me with your stupid muffin.” you were aware of how childish you sounded but hunger had always brought out the irrational side of you.

“It’s actually quite delicious.” he smirked, ignoring your frustration.

You groaned in jealousy, “Don’t rub it in.”

Realization sparked in his eyes.

“Got the last one didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“M’happy to share.” he grinned, breaking off half and holding it out to you.

“No, really it’s fine. I’m just being annoying.” you waved him off.

“I’m not annoyed. Really, take it. I’d have to throw it away otherwise.”

Your eyebrows raised at his comment.

“I’m stuffed.” he explained, patting his stomach twice.

“I don’t believe you, but I’m starving and this smells incredible.” you responded, accepting the baked good.

You closed your eyes and let out a satisfied hum after biting into it.

“Holy shit, this is like the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

The boy watched you and laughed at every pleased noise that you released.

Once you had finished your half you turned back to see him still watching you, he had scooted even closer to you and your knees knocked together at your movement.

“Thank you, that was amazing. Although it was pretty rich I don’t think I could eat a whole one either.”

“Your welcome,” when he paused you realized you hadn’t even introduced yourself but still stole half of this guy’s muffin.

“I’m y/n.” you filled in.

“Luke.” he returned.

You nodded and repeated it, testing how it felt on your tongue.

“Thank you again, Luke.”

The two of you began talking about, school, work, music, your favorite movies, astrology, anything really. By the time you glanced up from the conversation the cafe was nearly empty and the fire in front of you had burnt out leaving a smoky debris hanging in the air.

“I think they’re closing.” you said while checking the time on your phone.

“Fuck, I’ve got a paper due tomorrow.”

“Sorry, I kept you back.” you apologized, both of you gathering your things as you talked.

“No, s’not your fault.” he dismissed as you both began to walk to the door.

Standing a few feet away from the exit you could already feel the nip that was permeating through the glass, it sent a chill through your spine making you wiggle your shoulders. As you stared at the floor over the books in your arms, trying to decide what the best way to ensure you would see Luke again was, you heard the buzz of a zipper. You lifted your head to see your new acquaintance removing his arms from the sleeves of his black hoodie.

“Are you crazy? It’s freezing out there.”

“I know, you’re shivering.” he answered, swinging the fabric behind your back until it dropped and wrapped around your shoulders. He pulled on the sleeves till they were hanging in place and you watched through your lashes, completely in awe of his concentrated expression.

“Luke, I can’t wear this you’ll freeze and I can’t just take your clothes.”

“C’mon of course y’can. I’m warm blooded. I'll be fine and you aren’t taking it. I’m gonna want to come in for one of those muffins tomorrow and you know I can’t eat the whole thing, so you’ll just have to be here to share with me. We meet, we eat, I retrieve my jacket, all is right in the world.” He smiled through his words, attempting to warm you up by rubbing his hands up and down your shoulders quickly. “Think you can do that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Excellent. Meet me here at 9:00 tomorrow.”

You nodded as he pushed the door open and despite him trying to act unaffected you could tell from his rigid stance he was freezing.

“I’m counting on you alright? Stay warm, y/n.” he reiterated through chattering teeth before exiting the shop.

Current Time - December 14th

When they talk about one moment defining your life it seems silly, and unrealistic. One day of your life is hardly even a blip so one minute defining everything seems completely ludacris. You would have never bought into it eight years ago, right up until Luke muttered those three words to you before braving the cold.

“Stay warm, y/n.”

He said it and you had one of those moments. One of those, “and then everything changed.” moments.

You had always been sure that your purpose would come to you later in life, maybe you’d have a spiritual awakening while in some foreign country. Maybe you’d read a book that would change your view on everything, or god forbid you’d have a close encounter with death and the epiphany would come then. You would’ve never guessed that a nearly missed encounter with the world’s best muffin and a lanky Australian guy would do it.

But here you were eight years after the encounter, your hair was longer, the crinkles that appear by your eyes when you smile now linger, and Luke was nowhere to be seen, but some things haven’t changed at all. A half eaten muffin, the comforting cafe, and your unwavering certainty that your life’s purpose was to love and to be loved by Luke Hemmings all remained.

Seven years ago - March 27th

The door swung open to a positively beaming Luke, he leaned in to press a swift kiss on your cheek before hurriedly pulling you inside.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” you questioned, taking notice of the subtle burnt smell in the air and the smoky atmosphere of his apartment.

He nodded excitedly pulling you by the hand into the kitchen where you were met with messy countertops packed full of lumpy and slightly charred muffins. Your mouth fell open and you turned to face your boyfriend who was smiling timidly at you, eyes scanning over your face.

“I made you our muffins.” he smiled, proudly looking at his work.

“Wha- how? How did you even get the recipe?”

“Olive helped me out.” He responded, taking a seat on one of the bar stools by the island.

“Lu, this is incredible. Thank you.” you praised, moving to stand between his legs.

“I hope they turned out good. Y’know baking is a lot harder than it looks.” he tutted while unwrapping one for you. “Open up.” he instructed, tapping your chin.

Your teeth struggled to bite through the dense baked good, and while your taste buds fought with the bitter crumbly substance you questioned whether Luke had actually followed any recipe at all because what you were eating tasted nothing like the warm, gooey, and tart treat that the two of you had come to love.

You chewed slowly to avoid swallowing and kept your face as neutral as possible.

“How is it? Good?” he spoke nervously and the little glint of hope in his eyes forced you to swallow it down and paint on a pleased smile.

“Mmm” you moaned “It's delicious, Luke.”

“Yeah?” he beamed.

“Really good.” you nodded, your eyes drifting longingly to the sink. In that moment you would’ve killed for a glass of water.

“Wow, I mean I thought they’d be alright but this is great. Lemme try.” he brought your muffin up to his mouth and in a panic you snatched it from his hands, squeaking out a small “No!” before shoving the rest of it in your mouth.

“Babe, there’s plenty, no need to be greedy.” he laughed while unwrapping another. And you really should’ve thought this through because with puffed out cheeks full of possibly the worst muffin in history you took a step back and watched him bite into one. His face twisted in disgust and he quickly spit what he had taken back into the wrapper.

When he looked back up to you, you were standing there with a full mouth and wide eyes. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, “You enjoyed that?”

The second you shrugged your shoulders, feigning innocence Luke burst into a sharp cackle, his legs kicking up into the air from the force of his laughter. You took that as an opportunity to run to the trash and rid yourself of the awful taste in your mouth.

Luke was still struggling to catch his breath while you finished pouring yourself a glass of water.

“It’s not funny, Lu.” you argued between sips.

“Why didn’t you just spit it out?” he chortled, beckoning you closer with grabby hands.

“Because, it was so sweet.” you reasoned.

“Really? I would argue it was more rancid than sweet.”

“Not the muffin you goon, the gesture.” you elaborated, smacking his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you ate the whole thing.”

“Shut up. I was trying to be nice.” you pouted.

“Hey,” he said, standing and opening his arms. “M’sorry I know.”

You waddled into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his back.

“I love you for that.” he sighed, before kissing the top of your head.

You froze in his hold, those three unexpected words echoing through your head.

“You what?”

His chest shook lightly as a laugh fell from his mouth.

“I love you.” he repeated. It was so nonchalant, as if he’d said it to you a hundred times before. “You alright with that?”

You nodded before pulling back just enough that you could see his face.

“I love you.” you returned.

Luke’s hands cupped your cheeks, a groan passing his lips before he pressed a soft kiss to your now pouty mouth.

“Say it again.” he pleaded into your mouth.

“I love you.” you sighed, chasing his lips with your own.

“And again, and again, and again…” he continued, rewarding you with one lingering peck for each declaration.

“Mmm” he hummed in content when he decided he was satisfied. “Never stop saying it.”

Current Time - December 14th

A whirlwind romance like the one that the two of you had shared was never meant to be sad. It was the kind of love that constantly feels like a cheesy montage full of sweet moments that happens at the end of a rom-com. Unsuccessful baking attempts, cozy study dates, spontaneous weekend trips, hundreds of shared muffins, piggy back rides home from the bar, that’s what made you Luke and y/n.

The two of you didn’t do well with the hard stuff and it worked because there just wasn’t any. Everything was easy and it felt good. It felt right.

It had never even occurred to you that the hard stuff was part of any great love, that inevitably one day things would get hard. It really hadn’t occurred to you that pushing through the hard stuff was something that Luke may not be up for. Because you were and you always had been, all in.

Six years ago - February 17th

You had gotten home late after a long shift at the library you worked at part time . Luke was sitting on the couch scribbling something in a notebook and taking tiny sips of his steaming cup of tea, too impatient to wait for it to cool properly.

You’d been listening to an audiobook while organizing the shelves that day and the somber tone of it had seriously dampened your mood. It also made you extremely grateful that you had Luke to cuddle away all your sorrows.

He had noticed your sad expression the second he saw you and was quick to pull you into his arms and press you for information.

“What happened baby?” he cooed as you nestled as close into him as physically possible.

“Sad book.” you mumbled into his chest.

“Aw, love you shouldn’t let that stuff get to you. S’not real, there’s no need to get upset.” This was something you had heard plenty of times before, seeing as you were an extremely emotional person and felt things strongly.

“It was so sad though, bubs.” You reasoned that talking through it with someone else might dull the ache that it had left on your taut heartstrings. You explained the whole plot, how the couple had met on a plane and spent their two separate vacations together and along the way fallen in love. Luke would hum or nod every so often indicating he was listening but you knew most of his focus was on the fact that you were tearing up through your explanation. He let his lips rest along your hairline as you got to the climax of the story, speaking through cracks in your voice to tell him that they had lost each other’s numbers on their way back and while the woman was able to move on and find love later in life, the man waited at the airport for years hoping that one day he would see her again.

Luke’s hand ran through your hair while your head rested on his chest.

“I don’t think there’s anything romantic about it. It’s just sad.” he concluded.

“I disagree.”

“Really?”

“I’d wait for you.” you confirmed, running your fingers over the fabric of his shirt.

“Not forever though,” he added.

“I’d wait until I knew you were happier without me.”

“Yea, me too.” he agreed.

“I’d never be happier without you.”

Current Time - December 14th

One thing that you never doubted in your relationship was whether or not Luke loved you. You knew he did. It was something that had always been casual between the two of you, it was as much a greeting as it was anything else.

As the sun rose and broke through your curtains the words to break the silence that lingered from the night before wasn’t “Good morning” it was “I love you.” Before leaving for work instead of an impersonal “Bye!” you shouted “Love you!” through the closing door of your apartment. It was a phrase that had been repeated millions of times, and despite the casualness of it all, it never lost its meaning.

Even now, five years since you’d last seen him you knew with every bone in your body that no matter where he was right now, half the world away or two blocks downtown, he still loved you.

Luke always kept his promises, a million times he had promised that he would always love you. And a million times you had promised it right back.

A hundred years apart wouldn’t change that, let alone five.

Five years ago - December 13th

You watched the snow fall from the living room window, what you would normally find peaceful was making you go insane. It had been perpetually silent around your apartment for the past couple of weeks. Luke was hardly ever home, when asked he would tell you that he had a big project at work and needed to teach the new intern how things were done in the office. You hadn’t thought much of it, there were times when you were busy and had to put things with him on the back burner to focus on the uncertainty of work. It had never been an issue because as far as you were concerned things were set between you and Luke. There was the unspoken promise of forever.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from missing him tons. On this specific occasion the cold weather had left you with clogged sinuses and a bad headache, one that you would typically soothe with a cup of earl grey from the cafe and an abundance of snuggling. Since Luke wasn’t around to fulfill your touch deprivation you decided that wearing one of his favorite sweatshirts would have to do for now.

You blindly reached into his drawer to search for it but stopped when your hand caught on a folded piece of paper. You pulled it out and walked to the bed, flicking on the lamp as you sat. Once the light turned on you were able to see it clear as day, two airline tickets to Sydney departing on the 20th and returning on January 3rd. The two of you had briefly discussed travelling to Australia at some point so you could finally meet his family but nothing had ever been confirmed.

The naivety that had always been a part of who you were began to connect non-existent dots with hopeful lines. Luke was planning on surprising you with Christmas in Australia with his family. It explained why he was never home, it also explained the secretive phone calls you had started picking up on after he scurried out of bed in the middle of the night a while ago to speak to someone in hushed tones just outside the bedroom door.

That night when he finally got home at nearly eleven you had made sure to leave half a muffin with a note that read, “Miss you, stud muffin. You work too hard. Love you -y/n” on the kitchen counter. From where you laid in bed, you could hear him laugh as he read it aloud. You quickly sat up in bed when the laughs you were reveling in started to sound like sobs.

The dim lighting in the kitchen didn’t stop you from seeing the tears on Luke’s face as he looked up to where you stood, stunned in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” you hurried to him.

He made a sniffing sound before gathering you in his arms. He held you so tight that if it wasn’t so sincere it might’ve hurt.

“Lu, what’s going on.” you squeaked out.

He tightened his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your hair, emitting soft cries every so often.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I know. I love you too.”

“I swear I’ll always love you. I swear.”

“I know. Hey, Lu I know.” you soothed as his breaths became more labored.

At some point you had managed to calm him down and coax him into bed, you reasoned that he was just so tired that his feelings got the best of him, something that had happened to you many times before. And honestly you were just happy to be back in his arms once again, so when he was wrapped around you in bed, his hands playing with your hair like they always did when he got anxious, you didn’t think twice about it when he said,

“We need to talk tomorrow, over breakfast. We can go to the café if you want?”

You nodded against his chest as sleep overtook you, the last thing you heard being “I promise I’ll always love you.”

Current Time - December 14th

Your reminiscing was interrupted by a high pitched screech from the front of the cafe. When you followed the sound your eyes landed upon a distressed toddler, about three years old if you to guess, who was pouting up at a tall, gorgeous woman that was apologizing profusely to Olive for her son’s outbreak. You wouldn’t have looked twice at the scene if it wasn’t for the way Olive’s troubled expression and wide eyes were directed precisely on you.

The child was screaming through his cries “I want daddy’s muffin!” His face was red and blotchy from tears and the cold weather but didn’t completely overtake his creamy skin tone that complimented his familiar blue eyes. He was an adorable kid, a full head of blonde ringlets and chubby cheeks that you were sure turned a light pink when he smiled.

He kind of reminded you of Luke. When the thought entered your head you were quick to dismiss it though, because if you were being honest most things reminded you of Luke.

“I’m so sorry about this. He isn’t normally so loud, it’s just that my husband loves these muffins and he promised Sammy one.” you heard the gorgeous woman say.

“It’s fine, the cranberry orange muffin is a big hit around here. They sell out almost everyday.” Olive responded, her eyes unbreaking from yours.

“Yea that’s what Luke always tells me.”

Five years ago - December 14th

The walk to the café felt longer than it typically did and you had no idea why, for some reason you didn’t notice that Luke was dragging his feet. Maybe it was because you were sure that this impromptu breakfast date was to tell you of the surprise Christmas trip to Australia. Maybe it was because any amount of extra time you got to spend holding Luke’s hand in your own you considered a gift.

When you finally arrived you were quick to usher him to your favorite table, one that was secluded in the corner, enough to have a bit of privacy but also allowed you to people watch on slow days and have telepathic conversations with Olive from across the room.

You noticed that Luke wasn’t eating after a few minutes, his muffin half sat untouched in front of him and his nervous demeanor was driving you crazy.

“I have to admit something.” you finally said, tired of the silence.

Luke nodded for you to continue but refused to meet your eyes as you spoke.

“I know about Australia, I found the tickets in your drawer so if that’s what you're so nervous about, there’s no need. Of course I’ll go with you, you have no idea how excited I am to meet your mom, she can finally show me all those baby pictures that she’s always telling me about.” you were so busy picturing your potential trip to Luke’s hometown that you didn’t notice Luke’s teared up eyes and anxious tapping.

“Y/n, the tickets aren’t for-” he cut himself off before the approaching crack in his voice could prevail. “I met someone.”

“Okay?”

You didn’t even know what that meant, he met someone? You met people all the time, what does that have to do with the trip? You lifted your mug to take a sip while you waited for him to continue.

“I mean I-I have feelings for someone, uh someone else.”

You didn’t even feel your grip release, you didn’t hear the shattering noise, you didn’t feel the scorching liquid seep through your top onto your skin.

Luke was leaving you. He fell in love with someone else. It was serious enough that he was bringing her home. Luke was leaving you. Luke was leaving you. Luke was leaving you.

“I don’t understand.” The crying had already begun, and although it didn’t surprise Luke he couldn’t bear to watch it. He stared at the spilled tea and shards of glass. The entire cafe’s eyes were on you and you didn’t even notice all you could see was that Luke’s weren’t.

“Look at me.” you pleaded. There was a time when he would’ve seen your face, seen how distressed you were and gone back on everything solely because it hurt him too much to see you hurt.

When did that stop? Why hadn’t you noticed?

“I love you y/n, really I do. But I love her too.”

“You love her more.” you didn’t even try to phrase it as a question, there was no point, you already knew the answer. He must’ve loved her more because he was leaving you for her. Luke was leaving you.

Your acknowledgement of his feelings didn’t make it hurt any less when he didn’t deny it. Luke was leaving you.

You sat in silence for at least five minutes, it felt like years. Luke watched you cry, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms, and sway you back and forth until you stopped. He wouldn’t do that because it was selfish, it would ease his troubles more than yours, he deserved to see how his hurtful actions affected the one he swore to shield from any and all pain.

“I’ll have everything out of the apartment by the end of the week.”

The end of the week? You had planned on spending the rest of your life with him and he was telling you that he would essentially be out of your life by the end of the week. Luke was leaving you. None of it felt real.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I love you.”

Watching him leave felt surreal, you couldn’t hear anything but your blood pumping, you hardly took any notice when Olive rushed to your table and pulled you into her embrace.

Luke left you.

Current time - December 14th

You could feel his presence as soon as he stumbled out of the bathroom.

How could you have missed him coming in?

You dragged your eyes up his body from his feet, and when they fell upon his face it was like someone had pressed play after fast forwarding through the years that had been taken from you. You weren’t 23 anymore, and Luke certainly wasn’t either. He’d always had a strong build, but he held himself differently now. He was confident and collected, very sure of himself. He had a bit of scruff lining his jaw but you could tell it was well kept and intentional and a pair of black rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. You reacquainted yourself with his appearance from your spot in the corner.

With each subtle change you catalogued in your brain, vivid images danced through your head, like a kaleidoscope of what could’ve been. You saw lazy Sunday mornings on the couch leisurely sipping coffee, the open windows next to you bringing in a sweet breeze making the house smell like fresh grass after it rains. You saw yourself pushing a stroller through a park, Luke chasing behind one of your little ones just a few feet ahead. You saw roadtrips, vacations, theme parks, crowded family dinners, trick or treating, white gowns, and wedding cakes. You saw binkies, and bottles, tangled sheets, ruffled hair, pecks on the forehead, lunch boxes, and I love you notes.

The last scene you saw, one that felt so real you could’ve sworn you were really there, started with Luke sitting on the floor surrounded in wrapping paper a toddler curled up in his lap. He wore flannel pajama pants and a ratty shirt he had purchased at the concert you went to for your third date. He took sips from his mug of lukewarm coffee every so often, and you were sure if you got close enough you’d be able to smell it on his breath, not that you would mind. His curls were grown out more than he typically liked them, they were messy from sleep and obstructing his vision slightly. Just as you reached out to brush them from his forehead, it was like you had been thrown backwards by a force strong enough to make your stomach drop.

Reality.

You could still see Luke from where you stood but he was so far away now. You reached your hand out again, gasping in shock when it hit a sheet of glass, you knocked against it firmly but nothing happened. It was like a window where you watched the scene unfold. A woman you had been in the same position as not seconds ago stood up and revealed her face. It was his wife, she handed Luke a small gift bag and waited patiently as he opened it. He acknowledged the gift, a framed photo of the two of them and leaned forward to press a thank you kiss to her lips.

“Stop!” you called.

No one can hear you.

“Luke, I’m right here.” you yelled, slamming an open hand to the glass.

Hot tears fell from your cheeks as you continued to knock and shout.

“Lu, please.”

As he pulled away from the kiss a grin plastered his face. And it hit you, he was happy. He really was happy.

Realization of the thing you dreaded the most in the world happened quickly, but not painlessly. Luke’s eyes flicked to your own, he saw you through the window. He saw you calling for him, crying for him, begging for him. He saw you and then he looked away.

And reality snapped you back yet again, right into the present moment. You were in your café, staring at your empty mug, your face felt hot and wet. When had you started to cry? You reached a shaky hand out for a napkin to wipe your tears, but ended up knocking the mini poinsettia pot in front of you over instead. A crash echoed through the café and everyone turned their attention to you and your frantic demeanor. Everyone, even Luke.

You forced your eyes up from the glass that sat shattered on the white tablecloth with slow movements and shallow breaths until they finally found the culprit, the reason for your pain. You could see right through the light blue of his eyes, shock and bittersweet nostalgia pooled in the cerulean waves.

Just like you were suddenly 29 and hurt when you saw Luke. He was suddenly 20 and enamored when he saw you.

He physically winced while taking notice of the black streaks that cascaded down your cheeks. It reminded him of leaving you. It was all his fault.

He met your gaze with a desperate one of his own, silently praying that you could still read him well enough to understand.

His eyes released unspoken declarations with every slow blink.

I can’t believe I’m seeing you. I miss you. I still love you. I’ll always love you.

You can’t be here right now. I’m with my family. I’m happy now. I’m happy without you.

Every silent, stabbing confession all summed up into one that you had been afraid of for the entire eight years that Luke Hemmings had stolen from you.

I love you, but somehow that stopped being enough.

The place was silent. All eyes on you.

“I’m so sorry.”

You weren’t quite sure who you were apologizing to or what for, it could’ve been to Olive for making yet another mess that she would end up cleaning. It could’ve been to all the customers you disrupted when you broke the flower pot. Or Luke’s son who you had stolen a muffin from. Or maybe his wife, that you had been demonizing in your head for years, seeing her only as the woman who stole the love of your life. It could’ve been to Luke, you were sorry you hadn’t taken him seriously, he was in love and he had a family and you were still waiting around for the day he decided to come back for you. The day that would never come.

Deep down though, you knew you were saying it to yourself. Eight years is a long time, you had stopped living for yourself a long time ago. You did miss Luke, of course you did but maybe part of the hole in your chest that you had been so desperately trying to fill, was yourself. You really missed you. You without Luke. How could you have forgotten about her?

“I have to go.” this time you knew exactly who you were talking to and as your feet carried you to the door you didn’t even contemplate turning around when Luke’s voice broke through the silence of the café to say,

“Y/n, wait!”

You kept walking, past the stunned patrons, past Olive, past Luke. You kept walking until you were sure that no one would catch up. You just kept walking because after all this time you were so done waiting.

#luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings imagine #5sos imagine #5sos one shot #5sos imagines #luke 5sos #5sos one shots #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings drabble #luke hemmings one shots #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x fem!reader #luke hemmings angst #luke hemmings au

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

Somethin’ Warm to Come To

Pairing: Billy Lee x dark!Fem Reader

Words: ~2.9k

Summary: There’s a new girl in the big house, but you’re Billy’s favorite.

Warnings: DARK!!!!!!!! Explicit language, explicit sexual content (f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, forced voyeurism), violence (implied character death, mentions of killing and butchering animals for food, f to f violence), definite psychological torment, smoking, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: I am definitely going to hell guys, this proves it. Please avoid if you’re one of my soft sweet babies! Thanks so much @sweeterthanthis for giving this a once over to make sure I didn’t go too overboard! Also, I know it’s pretty heavily implied in the movie that Billy’s partners are underage but we’re gonna say everyone here is over eighteen.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!

You hummed softly to yourself as you worked on slicing the vegetables for the stew you were making for dinner.

Heather and Autumn were helping you in the kitchen, the two younger women working on butchering the chicken you had slaughtered earlier as you gave them instructions over your shoulder. Billy was still out, taking care of some problem one of the families on the commune was having, but he’d promised he was going to be back before the sun set.

It was your night, one of the two Billy set aside every week when it was just the two of you, the other women sent to their side cabin while you got lost in each other. You didn’t mind sharing him the rest of the time, but you were his first and his best, the queen of his little kingdom.

You turned to look when the screen door opened and sighed in exasperation when Rose came flowing in, eating an apple that she must have picked from the tree in the yard.

“Hello Rose.” You said, putting the cut up onions in the pot before moving on to the carrots. “Where have you been all morning?”

“Just walking around.” She said with a shrug, perching on a stool as she watched the three of you work. “It’s gorgeous outside.”

“I could’ve sworn I asked you to take care of the laundry.” You murmured, shooting your eyes towards the basket you had set by the back door.

She rolled her eyes at you before tossing the apple core in the bin and standing up to stretch lazily. You could feel the other two women tensing up behind you at her attitude, sensing your anger that the youngest woman seemed oblivious to.

Rose has only been with you a few months, and you were still a little pissed at Billy for bringing her into your delicate little ecosystem. She was lazy and stubborn, but so pretty and Billy just had to have her. At least she was good in bed, a little selfish though.

You’d almost slapped her last week when she refused to help keep the sheriff off Billy’s back when he was over for dinner. You had been buttering that man up for years with Billy’s sweet young wives and she almost blew the whole fucking thing until Autumn stepped up. She’d had the audacity to suggest you take care of him yourself and Billy had to hold you back to keep you from doing something stupid.

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” She said with a light laugh as she slapped the counter rhythmically. “Where’s Billy?”

“Taking care of something with the Hendersons.” You told her, chewing the inside of your cheek to keep from yelling at her. “They’ve been having trouble with coyotes getting into their chickens.”

She just snorted as she sauntered into the kitchen, inspecting what you were doing with minimal interest.

“Fine.” She said, hopping up onto the counter next to where you were working. “I think I’m gonna join you guys for dinner tonight.”

You heard Heather let out a gasp behind you and felt her and Autumn go completely still as you continued slicing.

“That’s not up to you.” You seethed as you tossed the carrots into the pot.

“I think Billy will be fine with it.” She said with a wicked grin. “He’s always so happy to see me.”

“Not up to him either.” You growled, stabbing the knife into the cutting board with a vicious thrust as you grabbed a hand towel.

“What, you jealous?” She teased you, kicking her feet lazily. “Not my fault Billy’s getting sick of that dried up snatch.”

You felt a wave of calm wash over you and stared at her for a beat before grabbing the back of her head and slamming it into the corner of the wall.

“Get out.” You said flatly to the other two women who were giving you terrified looks. “Now.”

They scurried out the back door without a second glance as you stood over Rose, who was holding her face and whimpering as she rolled around on the floor. You cocked your head as she tried to crawl away, grabbing her hair and yanking her up as she yelped in pain.

“C’mon sweetheart, let me see that pretty face you’re so proud of.” You cooed, a mocking look of concern on your face as you bent to look into her eyes.

She sniffled as she pulled her hands away from her face slowly. You tutted once you got a look at her, blood streaming over her chin from her nose and mouth.

“Not so pretty any more.” You said with a grin as you straightened back up.

She yelped as you slammed her face into the counter twice more until she finally shut up, dropping her to sag to the floor as you moved back to finish the stew. You frowned when you noticed the spray of blood across the front of your white linen dress but eventually shrugged before setting back to work, ignoring the crimson pool that was spreading across the tiles.

Billy walked through the door two hours later and grinned when he smelled the food. As much as he enjoyed having one of the pretty young things share your bed, he really loved having you all to himself.

“Hey sunflower.” He hummed when he walked into the dining room, wrapping himself around you and pressing his lips to yours as he wrapped his hands in your hair.

“Hey stardust.” You murmured happily against his lips. “I made your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite.” He cooed, rubbing his nose against yours before turning to take in the meal you’d set out. “Oh, what happened?”

Rose was tied to a chair at the opposite end of the table, her face purple and swollen as she cried around her gag. Billy noticed the blood splattered across your dress as you moved to slice the bread and he sank into his chair.

“Rose here wanted to join us this evening.” You said nonchalantly as you served him. “So I decided to make an exception to our alone time.”

“Shit, she mouth off to you baby?” He asked, his palm running over your thigh absentmindedly as he pulled you closer.

“Just a little.” You muttered as you sank into his lap.

“Well fuck, honey.” He purred as you tore off a piece of bread and brought it to his lips. “That’s no good.”

“I know. I fucking told you this would happen.” You hummed as he took a bite of the bread, his hands slowly dragging your skirt up to your hip.

“Yeah, I’m sorry sunflower.” He murmured before nuzzling into your neck. “Dunno why I didn’t listen to you.”

“Mmm, I forgive you stardust.” You moaned as he slid a hand between your thighs. “You really should eat your food though before it gets cold.”

“I’m only hungry for one thing, and it’s always nice and warm for me.”

You laughed lightly as he tossed you onto the table and wrenched your skirt up until it was gathered around your waist. He tossed your knees over his shoulders and started to plant soft kisses on the insides of your thighs.

He burying his face at the apex of your thighs and you moaned as he mouthed hungrily at your sex. You buried your fingers in his chestnut locks as his tongue swirled through your folds and he growled into your core.

“Fuck, Billy.” You whined when he wrapped his arms around your legs and pressed himself even further into you, shaking his head softly to bury his face even deeper in your folds.

You felt him grinning as your pussy clenched against his face, your arousal soaking his mustache and chin as he lapped at your clit. He held your legs open as he thrust his tongue inside you and you let out a wail.

“You taste like heaven, sunflower.” He purred as he gazed up at you through his lashes. “You wanna fuck my face while that little bitch watches?”

“Mm, yes. You know me so well, stardust.” You said, biting your lip and grinning as you peeked over your shoulder at Rose, your smile growing even wider when you saw tears leaking down her cheeks.

You started to grind against Billy’s face as he curled his tongue inside you against that spot that made your toes curl. His fingers pressed into your hips so hard they were going to leave bruises as you fought against his grip to clench your thighs around his head.

“Shit, right there.” You sobbed, your legs quivering with strain as your body went rigid before your release flowed into his mouth.

He groaned as you came around his tongue, your pussy fluttering wildly as you planted your free hand behind you to keep you from collapsing back against the table. You slowly relaxed as you came down, tugging Billy’s hair softly to tilt his head back and grin at him as you watched him run his tongue over his lips slowly.

He stood up between your legs and cupped your cheek as he gazed at you before bending to press his lips to yours softly. You sighed with content as you tasted yourself on his lips, tracing the curve of his mouth with your tongue and sliding his loose shirt down his shoulders.

“Hey! Open your fucking eyes!” He hissed over your shoulder as he snapped his fingers at Rose who had screwed her eyes closed and was trying to turn away. “You wanted to be here, so now you're gonna watch.”

He stepped away from you and prowled towards the opposite end of the table, ignoring the muted pleading that was coming from behind Rose’s gag. You swayed your legs lazily as he started to drag her towards where you were waiting. He slammed the front of the chair down dangerously before slotting himself between your thighs again.

You purred as he slowly undid the buttons on the front of your dress and bent to brush his lips over your collarbone. His hands moved to your waist after he slipped the sleeves down your arms, drawing you closer to him as his mouth traced the column of your throat.

Your hands moved between the two of you as he moved his face to run over your breasts, your fingers working quickly to undo his jeans.

“Fuck, flower.” He groaned as you drew his cock out and wrapped your hand around him, swirling your thumb through the precum that had collected at his tip. “Wanna feel that perfect cunt of yours around me.”

“Yeah? I want to feel that pretty cock of yours split me open, baby.” You teased as you lined him up, reaching out to slap Rose across the face when you saw her closing her eyes again. “Eyes open, bitch.”

He slid into you slowly with a low groan, leaning his forehead against yours as he watched you closely. You mewled softly as you felt him fill you up, your pussy fluttering around him once his hips met yours and you adjusted to his girth.

Your eyes rolled up into your skull as he drew out of you halfway before thrusting forward again, his hips slapping on your thighs as he drove into you roughly. He ducked his head and sucked a bruise below your ear as his arms wrapped around you, on hand trailing up your back to wind through your hair.

The soft sobbing sounds from Rose really spurred the two of you on, Billy’s thrusts becoming more vicious as he let out a feral growl against your throat. You dragged your nails over his back as his tip nudged against your cervix, making your vision white out for a second before you let out a shriek and came around him.

“Fuck, god you feel so fucking good.” He groaned as he followed you when you collapsed back against the table, pressing his chest to yours as he fucked you through it. “Like you were fucking made for my cock.”

“That’s cuz I was, stardust.” You cooed, wrapping your legs around his waist and arching your back to meet his thrusts. “We were made for each other, all this other pussy is just icing on the damn cake.”

He grinned before kissing you deeply, hooking his hands under your knees and drawing them up to loop over his shoulders as he sank into you even deeper. You whined as he ground against you, rubbing his pubic bone into your clit and making your breath hitch in your chest.

“So damn beautiful.” He murmured as he watched you fall apart. “Can’t believe this stupid cunt thought she could take your place.”

You bit your lip and your entire body spasmed with the force of your orgasm, your release squirting across Billy’s stomach. He buried his face in your neck and let out a low growl at the feel of your pussy clenching around him.

Your legs unwound from around his shoulders as he slowly pulled out of you, giving you a teasing grin before he flipped you over and slammed back into you. He brushed your hair out of his way and bent to press his lips to the back of your neck as he leaned his chest on your back, sinking his weight on top of you as his cock dragged against your g-spot.

“You close, flower?” He cooed, nipping at the shell of your ear. “I want this bitch to watch me fill you up.”

You turned your head to the side and beamed at Rose as Billy’s cock twitched inside you and his tongue traced the curve of your ear.

“Yeah, I’m real close baby.” You purred, arching your back to meet his hips as he buried his face in your hair.

He wrapped one hand underneath you, snaking his arm between your breasts before pressing his fingers to your throat and giving a gentle squeeze. His other hand brushed your hair from your face softly and cupped your jaw, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip until you sucked it into your mouth with a moan.

You gasped when he suddenly straightened, pulling you up with him as he knelt with one knee on the table and the other foot planted on the floor.

“Do it honey.” He groaned as you nipped at the pad of his thumb. “Wanna feel that pretty pussy cream all over my cock. Show this stupid cow what she thought she could steal from you.”

He sank his teeth into your shoulder and you let out a low moan as your whole body tried to arch off the table. You wrapped your hands around his forearms to anchor yourself as stars exploded behind your eyes, your voice leaving you in a hoarse cry as a wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

You felt Billy swelling inside you, his thrusts starting to become erratic as his own end loomed. He stilled his hips suddenly and groaned in your ear before he was filling you with warmth, his spend coating your satiny walls in thick ropes that started to leak down the insides of your thighs.

“Oh, that’s my good girl.” He cooed, holding you close to him as he relaxed, leaning back on his heel as his lips traced the curve of your neck. “My perfect little sunflower. Love you so much, honey.”

“Mmm, love you too, Billy.” You hummed, sinking back against him as his fingers ran over your skin. “What d’you want me to do with this cunt?”

He pressed his lips against your cheek in a warm kiss before untangling himself from you slowly. You groaned when his softening cock slid out of you, a soft wet sound accompanying it as his seed ran down your thigh in a slow trickle.

Billy stood up and walked towards Rose slowly, frowning as he watched her sob around her gag and fight her bonds. He gripped her chin harshly and turned her face towards him, looking closely at the bruises you’d left all over her pretty face.

“Disgusting.” He spat, releasing his grip on her chin and letting her head sag against her chest as he wiped his cock off on her skirt. “Should’ve been happy with what she had. Get rid of her baby.”

You beamed at him as he prowled to the kitchen to grab a cigarette, ignoring the renewed screaming that was coming from Rose’s mouth. You followed after him, grabbing your carving knife off the counter before heading back to the dining room.

“The west garden bed needs some new fertilizer anyway.” You said, hefting the blade and cocking your head at Rose as she knocked the chair over in an attempt to flee.

“Whatever you want baby.” He murmured, taking a long drag when the screaming finally stopped. “I’ll let you help me pick the next one.”

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leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

Baby’s First White Christmas [Spencer Reid]

masterlist

pairing - spencer reid x fem!reader

type - fluff

note - because its the holidays, i have decided to get back to writing our favorite pretty boy, spencer reid. enjoy!

summary - you and spencer’s baby of 9 months get to experience their first christmas at a party with your friends

warnings - mild language

————

*gif isn't mine* (also like pretty unrelated to the story but hes cute so)

“Are we ready, baby and baby?” Spencer asked, looking at you and your child.

“Yep!” You smiled excitedly. You looked to the baby in your arms and bounced. “This is your first Christmas, baby!”

The little baby boy gurgled, giving you a big smile. You couldn't help but giggle at the little joy of life in your arms.

A knock on the door sounded, which forced you to tear your eyes away from the baby. You went to open the door, but Spencer cut you off.

“Let me do it, honey,” Spencer said. You smiled at him. Even though it was 9 months since you’ve given birth, Spencer still didn’t let you do the littlest of things. It was the sweetest thing, but sometimes it got a little excessive. You knew he meant well, though.

As he opened the door, Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan came into view.

“Hi!” Penelope was the first out to talk. She smiled big and went inside immediately, hugging Spencer, then turning her attention to you.

“Is that? Oh?” Penelope stared at the baby, awe-struck.

“Yep! This is baby Jason,” you smiled. Jason reached out for Penelope and started to babble.

“Hi,” Jason spoke.

Penelope and Derek awed.

“He is adorable,” Derek smiled. “Thank you. Spencer takes all the credit for the amazing genes,” you smiled at your husband.

Spencer rolled his eyes with a smile. “Technically it’s, uh, half of us, but it's all you, babe.”

“So, he can talk?” Penelope asked. “Not like, full sentences. He knows “momma”, “daddy”, “hi”, “no”, and “bye”,” you explained.

“Wow, a true genius like his dad,” Derek clapped Spencer on the back.

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer said sheepishly.

“Oh, he can crawl a little, too!” You exclaimed.

“Oh! Can we see?” Penelope asked. She was putting her fingers in front of the baby, babbling with him.

“Let’s wait until everyone gets here, yeah?” You suggested. “Sure, no problem,” Derek smiled.

Penelope looked at you and your husband. “Oh, you two look amazing! You still have that after-birth glow.”

You blushed, “Thank you, Pen. You two look fabulous, as well!”

Penelope giggled, “We have gifts!”

Spencer sighed, “You guys shouldn’t have. We got you guys gifts, too, anyways.”

Penelope snickered. She got out her purse and handed you a small red box, and Spencer a medium-sized gift bag. Derek had his gifts behind his back. He had a big Christmas bag that shared both your gifts.

“Oh, thank you so much!” You smiled, side-hugging the two guests.

“It's not issue,” Derek smiled. “Here, I’ll put them by the tree. You guys come in, make yourselves at home!” Spencer said while taking the gifts from your hands.

You backed away, making room for Derek and Penelope to take off their shoes and coats. As they hung their coats up, more people started to arrive. You saw Hotch with Jack, Alex Blake, and JJ with Will and Henry.

“Hi, guys!” You exclaimed.

“Hey!” JJ and Alex smiled. You all did a group hug. “Come in, come in! Get comfy,” you said.

“Hi, boys,” you smiled at Hotch and Will.

“Hey, Y/n,” Hotch smiled. You gave him a side-hug, and did the same with Will.

“How have you been?” You asked.

“Good. Busy,” Hotch smiled. “We’ve been good. Henry has kept us busy,” Will smiled, patting his kid’s shoulder.

“Oh, same for Jason. Hi, Henry, Jack!” You smiled and the little kids.

“Hi, Aunt Y/n!” They smiled up at you. “We have some cookies and hot cocoa if you want them,” you said.

“Dad, can I go?” Henry looked up at Will. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t make a mess!”

Henry giggled and ran over to the kitchen. Jack looked up to Hotch, to which he replied with a smile and a nod. Jack followed Henry into the kitchen.

“Is this Jason?” Hotch asked, looking at the babbling baby in your arms.

“Yep! Say “hi”, Jace!” You said.

Jason looked at Will and Hotch with wide eyes. He smiled at them, which earned a chuckle from the men.

“Adorable,” Will smiled. “Oh, we know,” you chuckled.

Alex and JJ came back over.

“Sorry! We were putting our presents by the tree,” JJ smiled. “Guys! Don’t spend money on us! Unless it's for Jason, of course,” you smiled.

“Pretty sure most of them are for Jason,” Alex shrugged and smiled.

You chuckled. “Ah, I'm so glad all of you us are here.”

“Um, no! I’m here!”

You all looked to the door and gasped. There, was Emily Prentiss.

“Emily!” You exclaimed.

You went over to her, giving her a big, tight side-hug.

“Hey, Y/n!” Emily smiled and hugged you back.

Emily pulled back and hugged everyone else, a big smile on her face.

“H-How? What?” You asked, beyond confused and surprised.

“Spencer called,” Emily said, smiling to your husband who was walking over.

“Yep. I knew you missed her. We all have,” Spencer smiled and planted a kiss on your cheek.

You never worked with Spencer, but you had always been close with his co-works. When Elle left, Emily quickly came. You were heartbroken that Elle left. You two had had an amazing friendship, but she had to leave for personal reason. Then, Emily came and you two quickly formed a bond. Emily had a leave a year or two ago, leaving you sad and missing your best friend. Thanks to your amazing husband, she was able to stay for the weekend for Christmas.

“You are a God sent,” you smiled and leaned over to kiss your husband’s lips. Spencer kissed you back sweetly before pulling away.

“I missed you, but I definitely haven’t missed the PDA,” Emily snorted. “I second that,” Alex smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha-ha. Oh! Meet baby Jason!”

You presented your baby to them.

“Hi,” Jason spoke, smiling at everyone.

“Oh! He’s darling!” Alex exclaimed.

“Reminds me of Henry,” JJ pouted.

“So adorable. You guys did it!” Emily smiled.

You thanked everyone. “Yep, we did! Where’s Pen and Derek?”

“Over here!” You turned around, seeing that Penelope made holiday drinks.

“We have alcoholic eggnog for the adults and apple cider and virgin eggnog for the other adults and children!” Penelope exclaimed.

“Thank you, Pen,” you chuckled and went over. You took a glass of virgin eggnog for you and Spencer.

“Aw, you guys aren’t gonna drink?” Penelope said.

“I have a baby!” You said, bouncing Jason up and down.

“Hm, your loss,” Penelope chuckled.

“Do you guys want to see Jason crawl?” “Yes!” Everyone answered.

“Thank God, my arm is getting tired,” you chuckled.

You and Spencer went to the living room, everyone following. You set Jason down on the blankets you always had laid out for him. You got on your knees, ready to get Jason if anything were to happen.

Jason looked around and spotted his toy elephant, to which he started to crawl to. Everyone awed loudly.

“He’s 9 months, right?” Emily asked.

“Yep,” you smiled proudly.

“Wow, and he can already crawl?” Alex asked.

“Well, by this time they are usually excepted to crawl. Enjoy this time, Y/n. Soon they’ll be running around and you’ll be trying to catch them,” JJ said.

“Oh, don’t remind me about him getting older!” You exclaimed, crawling over to Jason who had his elephant in his mouth.

“Wanna go in your playpen, bubs?” You asked the baby. Spencer came over and scooped him up, planting a kiss on the baby's head. You watched with a love-filled look as Spencer played airplane with the baby, setting Jason in his playpen. Spencer put pillows on the corners of the pen, giving Jason few toys to plan with.

“Alright, you should be set for a while, buddy,” Spencer said, patting his son’s head.

“Well, anyone ready for dinner?” You asked.

“Yes!”

You smiled and went over to the kitchen, pulling out the casseroles, turkey, and rolls that were being kept in the oven to stay warm. Spencer and Penelope helped you set everything out. Soon, you all were sitting on the couch or dining table, eating and conversing.

“Your house looks amazing, guys,” JJ said, taking a sip of her alcoholic eggnog.

“Yes! You guys are couple goals!” Penelope sang out.

You chuckled, leaning against Spencer. “Thank you, it means a lot. It’s taken a while to get here.”

You smiled at Spencer, who gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Yep.”

“Gah! Okay, I need to take a group picture!” Penelope exclaimed. “Guys, get over here!”

Hotch, Derek, and Will came over with their kids. Spencer went over and got Jason out of his crib. He left to go change his diaper, quickly returning back. You had located the tripod, Penelope putting her camera in it.

“Ready!” Penelope exclaimed. You went in-between Spencer and Emily, putting your arm around both of them. You all smiled as the camera flashed a couple times.

“Great! I will send these all to you,” Penelope said, taking her camera and putting it in her purse.

“Yay!” You giggled. You looked to the window, your eyes widening. Even though it was dark outside, you could see the snow that was falling from the sky.

“Spence! Spence! It’s snowing! Jace, do you see that! It’s snowing!” You cooed at your baby.

“Woah!” Spencer exclaimed and walked over to the window.

“Can we go out so Jason can see the snow?” You asked. “Sure,” Spencer nodded. You all got your coats on, dressing Jason up in layers. You all went outside of your house, stepping in the already snow-filled ground.

“This is snow, baby! This is your first white Christmas!” You smiled at Jason, ticking his chin with your finger.

“Let me get a picture of the happy family!” Penelope said.

You stood next to Spencer, holding Jason close and smiling. Penelope took the picture, walking away to review her work.

You and Spencer looked up at the star-filled sky. You looked at Spencer and Jason, smiling contently.

“We did it, baby,” you said to Spencer.

Spencer looked to you and smiled, giving you a sweet kiss on the lips. “Yeah, we did.”

————

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sharkbait77 · 3 years

Text

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Three: Beneath the Oak Tree

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Strained parent relationship, death of a parent, grief, anxiety, it’s gonna get a little fluffy in this one!

W/C: 3.9k

A/N: So I'm honestly really proud of myself for this chapter, there's a little something that I wrote while I was in Ezra's mind & I still can't get over it. I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you all so much for the love & support!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form

Chapter Two || Chapter Four

~APRIL NINETEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN – AFTERNOON~

At the day’s end, you begin your trek back to the house, the heels and balls of your feet aching in a bruising way with each step. The sun creeps lower and lower behind you as you walk and you can feel the warmth of its rays hugging your back. There was a time you would enjoy watching the sunset, when you would stay in town the few extra moments to revel in its beauty and its promise to you that, although darkness will soon creep in, the sun will rise again and bring with it a fresh beginning.

Now, though, your newly appointed duties force you to neglect your favorite time of day. Right after closing the shop, you headed over to the butchers shop for the cheapest pound of beef, cut up into chunks as requested by Pa, and began walking. Not looking back at the town or the sunset, but not able to look forward either. Muscle memory takes over your legs, the map in your mind leading you straight home and all other directions you may have anticipated moving towards are erased completely now.

As you walk up to the farm, you see Mr. Prospect far into the fields, digging weeds from the Earth diligently with the hoe in his hands. You gander upon him for a moment, slowing down your pace just to glance a little longer than might be considered appropriate. He’s discarded his jacket and his white shirt looks dirtier now, the sleeves rolled up to his biceps to reveal his tan arms. They’re not overly muscular, but you know they must be strong with how hard he’s working the fields.

You misstep while your head is turned to Mr. Prospect, the toe of your boot catching a fairly large rock in the dirt and it causes you to trip. You stumble, but regain your balance quickly and feel the flush of embarrassment flow through you, your head now facing forward with the front door to the house in your sights. You take another peek at Mr. Prospect, his attention still focused on the dirt, obviously not having seen you fumble and you thank whoever above that he had not been looking your way.

Once inside, the aroma of vegetable broth is swirling through the air; Pa had already begun the stew, thankfully, relieving some of the responsibility from you. You walk into the kitchenette and set the wrapped beef down onto the only free counter, then you remove your bonnet and bag, hanging it on the wooden hook and turning to place the lockbox back inside the safe.

You turn back to the kitchenette, unwrapping the paper to reveal the raw meat within and you dump it into the boiling broth with the vegetables. A simple stew; you’ve no spices besides pepper and fresh rosemary from the garden and the meat was already salted by the butcher, but it was always a favorite that Ma would make. Yet, when you try to cook it, it never comes out with the same taste anymore. As if Ma had put her own love into it and it was another part of her you just would not have anymore.

After some time, the stew is finished, the broth thickened and the vegetables and meat cooked through to tenderness, and just then, Pa walks into the house. He walks as if the weight of the Earth rests on his shoulders and he breathes deeply, trying to regain the air in his lungs he had lost from the hard work of the day. You stand in the kitchenette, waiting for him to move from the frame so you are able to greet Mr. Prospect as well, but Pa shuts the door behind him.

“He did not wish to join,” Pa says simply.

“Did he explain why?” You ask.

“He said he did not want to impose. I did not press the matter; if he chooses solitude, I will not force his hand,” Pa replies as he sits down at the table.

You keep quiet, deciding not to further discuss the subject so as to not upset Pa and you ladle a helping of stew into a bowl for him, carrying it along with the basket of rolls to the table. You set it down in front of him and after he says his silent letter to Ma, he begins eating. You serve yourself some stew as well and sit down at the table. You and Pa eat in silence, as usual, but there’s a nagging thought in your head that will not subside. As much as you try to throw it to the wind, your curiosity gets the best of you and as you stand to grab your dishes, you find the courage to confront your father.

“Pa?”

“Hm?” He grunts, packing his pipe with tobacco.

“Why did you not inform me of Mr. Prospect yesterday?” You ask quietly, hoping he will not be upset with your questioning.

“I did not see the need to. Not until I had a chance to speak with him myself.”

“I could have helped, Pa. You could have sent him to me and I could have spoken with him,” you continue as you move to stand closer to him. He sighs deeply.

“No.”

His quick response comes out cold, a spat in the face more like, and you immediately take offense. Clearly, Pa still sees you as a child and, like a child, he expects you to bend to the laws he has established in this house. Your pulse races, the grown woman within you takes over your mind and you feel the urge to fight for your position. It breaks your heart; you were used to fighting for yourself in the town, but now you find yourself fighting against your own father.

“Why? Do you not trust my judgement? I’ve put my work in for the farm like you and Ma have before me,” you reply in a firm tone.

“Because I am the owner and I will hire whomever I see fit. Enough of this.”

He nearly barks at you, like the Bakers’ dog that would frighten you as a child whenever you passed its territory, and you feel that same terror rush through you now. You try to see reason, but no acceptable excuse comes to mind. Perhaps he did not feel as though you have earned his respects as the young lady you are. Whatever he thinks of it, you feel it may be best to settle the subject. For now.

“Yes, sir,” you say softly. You turn to the kitchenette, place your soiled dishes in the basin and walk back to the range, serving a helping of food into another bowl with a spoon and setting a roll on top. “I will go offer some stew to Mr. Prospect.”

“Leave him be, daughter. If he wished to eat, he would have joined us at our table,” Pa says with a furrow in his brow.

“Perhaps he is intimidated, Pa. Afraid to sit and converse with us after the town has already been so unfriendly. If he wishes to be lonesome, I will respect it. But I will not let him go hungry simply for his preference.”

Before giving Pa another chance to argue, you step outside and shut the door behind you. You take a moment to yourself once you are far enough away from the house. A crushing feeling sits on your chest, pressure building and building and you take deep breaths in an attempt to calm your rapidly beating heart and quiet the ringing in your ears. You allow yourself to feel the cool breeze from the night flow across your face and closed eyelids as you find your center again.

You had hoped Pa would see you as an adult by now, not a helpless child. The loss of your mother only matured your soul more than it already was previously. You wonder what Ma would think, if she would agree with Pa or with you. Only more sadness courses through you, though, as you remind yourself that you will never know the answer.

Finally regaining your strength, you walk towards the barn, bowl in hand and heart drumming nervously in your chest. Why? Why so anxious? What is it about this mysterious man that has you feeling like a schoolgirl again? He was absolutely an intriguing – and rather handsome – man, far different from the men around town, as well as friendly, so why had everyone else been so disconcerted by him? You truly must have a different set of eyes, then, because you only wish to know – to learn – more.

You reach the ajar barn doors and knock on the wood softly to announce your presence. There is some shuffling from within until Mr. Prospect pulls open the door, his gaze full of pleasant surprise to see you standing in front of him.

“Sunflower,” he grins. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I apologize for interrupting your rest, but I figured you might be hungry after today,” you reply and hold out your hand with the bowl. He glances down at it, quickly looking back up into your eyes.

“I couldn’t, miss, I would feel as though I am taking advantage of your kindness.”

“Nonsense,” you scoff and his eyebrows twitch amusingly at your rebuttal. “It is the very least we can do since we are not able to pay you much. ’Sides, I’ve already served you; I would be more offended if you were to decline now. Otherwise it will go to waste and that will not sit right with Pa. Or with me.”

“Very well, Sunflower. I would hate to disappoint, so I will accept. Thank you very much,” he smiles and grabs the bowl from your outstretched hand, his fingertips lightly brushing your palm and a slight tingle from his skin on yours trickles through your hand. “May I ask you to join me?”

“I’d best not linger; I’m afraid I’ve managed to upset Pa tonight and I’d rather not cause him any further distress before sleep,” you explain, pushing past the temptation to say yes.

“I am sorry to hear that; I hope my being here hasn’t caused any controversy between you and your father.”

“Not at all, it has nothing to do with you, Mr. Prospect. Rest easy,” you smile.

“Thank you, dear Sunflower. Both for the ease of mind and also for this meal; I cannot wait to taste the flavors that have charmed my nose with its temptatious smell.”

You giggle softly at his statement; he speaks so differently, his own elocution, it seems. You bow your head slightly at him and take a turn to leave, but a lingering curiosity prompts you to speak.

“Mr. Prospect, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he grins while he waits.

“Why do you call me ‘Sunflower’?”

“Do you take offense to my endearment, miss? I do apologize-”

“No,” you shake your head, offering a small smile for your expression to match your acceptance of the name he has bestowed upon you. “I must admit I quite like it. I was only curious.”

“It is because you glow as one; bright as the sun, yet gentle as its petals. Though, its beauty would diminish greatly were it next to you in comparison.”

Your neck, cheeks, and ears burn; an almost overwhelming heat you have not felt since little Morris Clark snuck a kiss to your cheek as children in the school play yard. Though, there was nothing childlike about the sensation rushing through you. His words make you smile; a genuine smile you forgot your face was capable of producing.

“I… I hope you enjoy the soup. I-I will be back for the bowl and spoon in the morning,” you stutter and attempt to hide the jubilant grin on your face by biting your lip. “Goodnight, Mr. Prospect.”

“Sunflower?” He calls out as you’re mid-turn, causing you to stop at his beckon. “Please, call me Ezra.”

Your smile breaks wider across your face and Ezra grins back, nodding slightly as he watches you consider his proposal. You take a breath to calm the thumping of your heart.

“Goodnight… Ezra.”

“Goodnight.”

~APRIL TWENTY-FIRST OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Sundays were your favorite days. No, not because of church, but because it was the only day of the week where you were able to close the shop early enough and have a spare moment to yourself. While everyone was busy praising God, praying to Him to prove they were holier than the rest of the town and repenting for the sins they committed during the week (just for them to start fresh on a new batch the next morning), it was the day you found your own escape.

You intently watch the clock ticking on the wall until the work day comes to an end and you quickly rush to the door to flip the sign, guaranteeing no other customers would make it through. You head back to the counter and carefully examine the ledger and count the coin from the day to assure each sale has been accounted for. After checking it once, you go through it again to reaffirm it’s correct and close the book.

You gather the coins in your hand and place them in the velvet bag, tying the string at the opening and setting both the bag and the book into the metal lockbox. You turn the small key, place the box in your bag, and nestle the key within your breast pocket.

You hurriedly make the trek back to the farm and you see Pa rounding up the chickens for their feeding. In your haste, you notice belatedly that you had not seen Ezra in the fields, but convince yourself he may be busy elsewhere. After a brief announcement of your arrival, you walk through the wooden front door, the floorboards creaking underneath you as you walk straight to the black safe next to the fireplace. You place the metal box from your bag inside the safe, closing it once again and heading back outside.

“Pa, I’ll be back in time for supper,” you call out as you stand under the apple tree, searching for the shiniest and reddest apple from its leaves to place in your bag.

“Be careful, daughter,” he replies as he throws more feed into the dirt. Considering how strained your relationship with Pa became, thankfully, he still respected your weekly ritual without any argument.

You wave and walk away from the farm, in the opposite direction of the town and towards the hills. It’s a mere five minute hike until you make it to the small landing at the base on the other side of the hill, letting the sounds of the flowing river fill your ears with delight. It is your own personal haven; no other person has found this place and you privately claimed it as your own, even marking your initials into the large oak tree that dwelled there.

As you make your way through the pine colored grass and up to your usual sitting area, you see the outline of a man sitting under your tree. Your brows furrow in confusion and you feel momentarily disappointed upon the realization that your secret place has been found by another, but you don’t dare be outwardly perturbed; how were they to know this was your own private sanctuary to escape the gloom of what has become of your life?

You continue in a steady march, not prepared to let your resting spot become someone else’s easily. Your mother taught you manners; you knew how to share. That did not mean it had to please you, but as long as they kept to themselves, you rationalize, what’s the harm? Maybe it was another lost soul finding comfort in the calming atmosphere of this place. An unavoidable grin stretches across your face, however, when you step closer and recognize the choppy cut of hair atop the man’s head. You catch a glimpse of his profile and his discernible nose and conclude it is the traveling man that has so intensely piqued your interest.

“Good afternoon, Ezra,” you address once you’re in range of his hearing. It catches him off guard and his shoulders jolt slightly, clearly unexpectant of anyone else finding this place.

“Sunflower,” he beams when his eyes meet yours as you stand under the shade of the tree. He moves to stand to properly greet you.

“Please,” you hold a hand up to stop him. “May I join you?”

“It would be a true delight,” he responds and resettles himself on the ground.

You smile sincerely and are pleasantly surprised to find it comes naturally and with ease in his presence. You lift your dress slightly from the ground and carry your weight to your knees to rest on your bottom, bending your legs to lay beside you. You sigh contentedly as you smooth out your skirts out around you.

“What brings you here? What about the fields?” You ask.

“Your father relieved me of my duties for the remainder of the afternoon. He declared: ‘Every soul should rest on the Lord’s day’.”

“Yes,” you chuckle. “That sounds like Pa.”

You do not press the subject of his religion, knowing first-hand how irksome it is when others comment on your lack of worship and you do not wish to cause Ezra any further discomfort by intruding on his personal preferences. A moment of silence passes between you two; the river flows and splits across different shaped rocks and boulders embedded into the dirt below the surface, creating a relaxing tune, gladly welcomed by your ears.

“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” You ask, turning your gaze to his. To see his peaceful face, full of heartfelt content of the surroundings, you think it may not be so bad to finally have a friend to share it with.

“Indeed; lovelier so with your company,” he smiles.

You feel a strange occurrence within you, a sudden spike in your pulse that makes your fingers and toes tingle, much like when they ache at the end of a long day. Yet, in this moment, you welcome it.

“I usually come here alone,” you say quietly as you fiddle with the strap of your bag.

“My apologies; if you’d prefer, I will find a different location of rest,” he frowns slightly, afraid he has imposed on time you prefer to spend alone.

“No,” you say quickly. “Don’t fret. Besides, this is the only place the children do not come to cause chaos.”

“I see,” he chuckles breathily, a sense of relief rushing through him that he has not upset you. “Perhaps we can share, then?” He questions tenderly in a hopeful wish released to the air.

“Yes,” you nod. “I think I would enjoy that.”

He smiles, his eyes gleaming along and you cannot fight the slight, arrhythmic thumping in your chest at the sight of his glee. Another moment passes without a word spoken as your heart paces normally once again and you look over at Ezra, his fingers busy fiddling with a small book.

“Whatcha got there?” You ask. He looks at you before meeting your gaze to his lap.

“Oh...” He looks at the brown, leather bound booklet in his hands. “A journal for my thoughts and compositions alike.”

“It’s nice to write down your reflections. May I hear some? Unless they are too close to your heart, then I do not wish to pry.”

“I’ve not read these aloud to anyone since my youth, dear Sunflower, but it would bring me great joy if you were to listen,” he says softly and you turn your body to face him, providing your utmost attention.

He smiles, chest rising profoundly with each nervous breath he takes as he opens his book, turning the ivory pages with the pad of his index finger until he lands on a scripture to read, clearing his throat before he begins.

“The vast expanse of the Green went on in each direction farther than the eye could see. The emerald of the leaves above coalesce into the umber of the earth below, both hues combining in the moss bound to the wide and tall bodies of majestic trees.

“The sunlight rained through the leaves, its rays bathing the ground I walked on and bringing the small buds of flowers to life with each step I took. The morning dew kissed the delicate fronds, single droplets meeting their lovers akin and they became as one, rolling away from the home they shared briefly and freefalling in blissful adrenaline until they met their demise in the dirt.

“I immersed myself in the environment, years upon years of the knowledge of rebirth all around, and I breathed in the crisp coolness of the air and life surrounding me. I long to become the moss on the tree, the buds in the dirt, the dew on the frond. To fade away into the Green and be born again.”

He takes a deep breath as he closes the book, grazing his fingers along the cover as if he is praising it, thanking it silently for the blank canvas it provides for him to express himself. His words move you, the meaning behind his composition striking a chord within your heart and, suddenly, you feel a small bead of water rolling down your cheek. As you bring your finger to your eye to wipe away the first tear you have shed in many moons, Ezra looks over at you and catches you in the act.

“Are you alright, Sunflower?” He asks with concern laced in his voice. He would reach out to comfort you through physical touch were he not afraid to overstep and offend you.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you brush off before flashing a soft smile at him. Though, he is not convinced. “It’s beautiful; you have a raw talent for composing. It sounds like a lush place, nothing like around here. What is ‘the Green’?”

“A never-ending stretch of greenery and tall trees. At times, I can faintly smell the aroma of the dirt, muddied by the rain.”

“Where is it?” You ask, a slight hope forming in your heart that you may be able to visit someday.

“Ah, it resides only in my dreams, I’m afraid. A place my subconscious has manifested for me to visit during my slumber.”

“It sounds heavenly,” you add in a whisper.

Ezra is stunned; in his youth, he has composed small poems and sonnets such as the one he just recited to you and each time he dared to share them with anyone, he always got the same response. Classmates teased him and called him a freak or queer and he never felt any desire to share his work again. Yet, with you, your gleaming eyes directed to him with such intrigue, he felt compelled to share once again. And the response this time warms his heart.

“It can be. Then again, it feels quite lonesome as well. Such a colossal stretch of land, yet I am the only one there.”

“It must be my own desire to be free of prying eyes and ears that makes it sound appealing. I did not consider how it has been for you during your travels. Forgive me, Ezra,” you say, your eyes shining with guilt and he looks deeply into them, a touch of gold streaking in his irises as the sun flashes across his face.

“You have nothing to apologize for, dear Sunflower. I understand your desires. If I had also grown in a town such as this, I would gladly welcome a visit to the Green.”

You nod your understanding, but a twinge of guilt hits you as you consider how poorly Ezra must have been treated when he first arrived. You do not wish to ask and ruin the peacefulness of this moment, though you vow to keep it in mind to ask at a later time. For now, you will enjoy your company with Ezra under the large oak tree, heart happily beating in your chest with someone to finally share time with.

Chapter Two || Chapter Four

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fatiguing-thoughts · 3 years

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“Natural” - Chapter One- Embry Call x Reader

Coming Home

After almost two years, I finally got to come back to Forks. We had to move for my dad’s job temporarily, which was truthfully my biggest nightmare. I was stuck living in Texas; rotting away in the sun and overbearing heat. I had missed all my friends, while I tried to contact them as much as I could, it was super difficult to keep our contact as much as I would like-- especially due to their mysterious disappearances at times.

I left our sophomore year of highschool, something we were all supposed to go through together, alas I did it alone and miserable. Yeah we would’ve gone to two different high schools, but to be able to hang out every day as we usually did was something I would’ve killed for. I just was happy that I can assume they all had a better experience since they were together.

We were such a tight knit group of friends, thanks to my dad being great friends with Billy Black. It was Jake, Quil, Embry, and I against the world. Though, if I were to be honest, Embry was the first guy I ever had a crush on. Since we were kids, I wanted nothing more than to be with him. I think only Jake knew, as he was the first friend I ever made. The constant behind the scenes teasing was something I could never forget.

Part of me wonders that if I ever left, would Embry and I have ended up together? I always felt that the feeling probably was mutual, but the fear of ruining the best friendship ever was a lot to consider. I never pushed, and neither did he. Though, before I left-- we did kiss.

That kiss was enough to leave me with the feeling of a thousand suns bursting in my soul. I never wanted to let go of Embry. But it was something we never discussed further. I’m still not even sure why not, probably because me leaving hurt us all a lot. We often still add music to our shared playlist, though. I would have to make it a point to myself for my own sake that I don’t get my hopes up for nothing.

Over the years, I’ve never been so thankful for technology. I still got to, as I said, rarely watch them all grow up seemingly overnight. The haircuts last year really threw me through a loop, but I never pressed. It made me sad to see Jake and Embry cut their hair, I loved their hair. The excitement that I felt to see them again was raging inside of me. They had no clue I was coming back so soon. I told them I would return after graduation in the summer, but they had no idea I meant that week.

As we pulled up the small house in Forks, I could barely contain my excitement. I followed my father’s car in my own, watching the moving truck unload everything into our new house.

We both exited our respective cars, meeting up for a nice side hug on the front lawn, admiring the new house.

“You talked to Billy, right?” I ask him.

“Yes. He said the boys should be around, or at least Jacob would be. You can head over there soon.” He smiled at me, knowing that seeing the guys was the top priority for me.

“Thank you, dad. I’ll help unpack, too. Don’t worry. I just miss them so much.” I say, almost tearing up at the thought of them.

I walked into the house, finding my room. I dropped what I brought with me in my car off. I smiled at the thought of being back home. I was going to love decorating my new room. I was going to love the environment again, the woods. Everything. I looked out my window and admired the patch of woods I was blessed to have nearby. I would have to explore those soon. I smiled at the thought of smelling the pine trees and the earth underneath my feet. I would have to drag the guys on hikes again.

I grab my keys, phone, and wallet and throw them into my small bag. Walking down the stairs avoiding the moving guys as best I can.

I start my car, driving down the long and winding roads to the reservation. Smiling like an idiot, before the nerves kicked in.

What if they changed so much and would hate me now? What if they don’t want me around? What if Embry wants nothing to do with me? Even worse, what if Embry had a girlfriend?

I tried to shake the thoughts away, knowing it would only ruin the surprise.

Before I knew it, I pulled up to the Black household. I got out of my car, walking up the path to the front door, knocking.

The door swings open to Billy smiling.

“I can’t believe you’re here, kid. I missed you!” He rolls backwards, letting me in. I hugged him hello.

“I can’t believe it either.” I said, smiling.

“You grew up so much. I can’t even believe it.” He looks at me, smiling like a proud uncle.

“It’s crazy right? I can’t even imagine how big they all got. In pictures they look huge.” I laugh.

“Oh yeah, they got huge. Jacob and Quil should be here in a few minutes, I sent them out to go get swedish fish. Your favorite.” He laughed.

“Oh, so they’re bringing me a snack without knowing?” I laugh.

“Yeah they are. Please, come sit down.” He directs me to the couch.

I thank him and walk over, plopping down. We had some small talk for a few minutes before we heard the boys coming back. The doorknob began to open and I felt my heart almost leap through my chest.

“We got the swedish fish. But why did we have to get them? You don’t even like-.” Jacob stops talking as he sees me sitting on the couch.

Quil looks at him confused, before seeing me for himself. His face lights up.

“No fuckin way.” Quil says through an ear to ear grin.

“(Y/N)!” Jacob runs over to me, I stand up before he picks me up, spinning me in a hug.

“When did you get here?” He asks me, smiling like a kid on Christmas.

At least they were happy to see me.

“Forks? About an hour ago. Your house? Like ten minutes ago.” I laugh.

“You’re back for good?” He asks, still not letting go of me.

“Yes. For good, finally.” I smile.

“Okay okay, it’s my turn.” Quil says, pushing past Jacob to engulf me into a rib-crushing hug.

I noticed how they were both burning hot as Quil didn’t let go of me.

“Jesus, you’re both burning up. Are you guys sick?” I ask concerned.

“No, we just run hot.” Quil smiles.

“Oh, okay… So when did you guys get so… massive?” I ask, practically looking up at them.

“About a year or so ago. You missed a lot, sweetie.” Quil says, messing up the hair on my head.

“You guys have matching tattoos?” I ask, pointing to their arms.

“Wow, (Y/N). You’re observant today.” Jacob laughs.

“Yeah, it’s for the tribe. A lot of us have it.” Quil says, looking at his arm before back at me.

“Oh, that’s really nice. They look great.” I smile at them.

“So, now that we have this surprise, we have to figure out plans for tonight.” Jake looks between Quil and I.

“Well, I have a patch of woods by my house. I planned on going on a hike myself tomorrow morning or tonight if I didn’t get home too late. Would you guys wanna do that?” I ask, looking at them.

“Woah, by yourself?” Quil almost shrieks.

“Yeah, what’s so bad about that? A lot of bears or something?” I laugh.

“Yeah, there’s been a lot of bear attacks. We’ll go with you.” Jake offers, glancing back at Billy, who seemed to nod in approval.

“Oh okay, cool. You could also help me put my room together if you guys want, take a peek at the new house.” I poke Jacob’s arm, knowing they would be great to help me move furniture.

“Wow, already trying to recruit us?” Quil laughs.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just need help moving furniture into the best spots?” I smile at them, pleading with my eyes.

“Okay, let’s go.” Jacob rolls his eyes, playfully shoving me.

“Okay, I’m parked right outside, I’ll drive. Bye Billy, it was great to see you.” I smile at him, hugging him goodbye.

“Goodbye, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Of course. You’re gonna be sick of me soon!” I yell back at him.

“Never!” He laughs.

The boys and I walk over to my car and begin the drive to my house, blasting music and singing like absolute psychopaths.

We pull into the driveway and they greet my excited father. They talk for a few before I drag them upstairs to help me move my furniture.

“Jake, you got buff. Like really buff. What happened?” I ask in shock as he moves my dresser with seemingly no effort.

“Hey, I got buff, too.” Quil says defensively, moving the other dresser with just as much ease.

“I see that. Jeez, I missed a lot.” I chuckled, looking down sadly.

“Well, we get to make up for lost time, now.” Jake smiles. “I can’t wait, I’ve missed having friends.” I admit, laughing.

“You definitely friends in Texas.” Quil scoffed.

“Nah, not really.” I purse my lips, stifling my chuckle.

“Well, you have us again. Plus our friend group expanded greatly, so you won’t be bored anymore.” Quil offers, earning a hesitant look from Jacob.

“Anyone I know?” I ask.

“Yeah, you’ll remember them. Jared, Paul, Sam, Leah, and some others.” Jacob says.

“Oh wow, that’s great that you all hang out a lot now.” I smile.

“Yeah, it is.” Jacob says, looking at the bed.

“Where do you want the bed?” Quil asks.

“I can help you guys with that, it’s really heavy with the mattress on it and everything. But I want it in that corner by the window.” I point.

Without missing a beat, the two boys pick up the bed with ease and move it, leaving me surprised.

“Or not.” I smile.

They look back to me, smiling. We finish moving everything else around, taking much less time than I thought it would.

I look around in astonishment, impressed with how quick that was.

“Wanna go for that hike?” Jake offers.

“Yeah, of course.” I grin, leading them out of my room and out the back door.

We walk around, exploring the new environment.

I found a fallen log, walking across the top of it.

“If you’re as clumsy as I remember, maybe this isn’t your best choice.” Quil laughs.

Jacob turns, looking at me with impressed eyes as I make it to the end of the log with no slip ups.

“See, I’m fine.” I smirk, right as I trip over my own feet as I went to jump off the log.

Quil catches me right before I fell into the dirt.

“Yeah, you’re fine.” He mocks.

“Thanks, Quil.” I nod at him.

We continued going deeper into the woods, they wanted to hear all about Texas and how much I hated it.

“So, how bad is the bear thing? I really can’t go hiking alone?” I ask as the sun begins to set, causing us to head back to Jake’s house to watch movies.

“Uh, really bad. It’s like a real issue here right now.” Quil says, looking at me and then back to Jacob.

“Damn. That sucks. For you guys. Because I’m probably gonna drag you out a lot then.” I smile at them.

“That’s fine. Works for us.” Jacob smiles.

“Embry’s gonna shit himself when he sees you.” Quil laughs.

Embry.

How I wished he was here.

“He will.” Jacob laughs, winking at me behind Quil’s back.

“Oh I’m sure.” I say sarcastically, trying not to blush from Jacob’s silent remark.

“What? We were all inseparable growing up, just because you were gone for a while doesn’t mean he’ll feel differently.” Quil said.

“I guess that’s true. Where is he, anyway?” I ask.

“He’s helping Sam with something.” Jacob answers quickly.

“Okay... I’ll surprise him tomorrow if that would work.” My voice trails off, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Perfect.” Quil smiles.

We finally get back to my house, getting into my car and driving over to Jake’s. The drive was once again way too much fun. I missed my best friends.

“So what’re we gonna watch?” I ask, shutting the car door behind me.

“I figured Pineapple Express?” Jake offers.

“Oh god, yes.” I agree excitedly.

“Great movie.” Quil interjects.

We begin watching the movie a little after 9:30.

It starts off with a lot of laughs, but at one point I feel my eyes involuntarily opening and closing.

My head bouncing up and down, fighting the urge of sleep.

I wake up to hearing the sound of a guy talking to us, I just didn’t know who it was. I look over at the time, a little after 11:45-- the movie was over. We all fell asleep. I blink my eyes a few times, trying to see what’s going on.

The man is tall, not as tall as Jacob but taller than Quil. He was just as buff as, if not more, Jake, bigger than Quil for sure.

Jacob is still knocked out, able to sleep through anything just like I remember, and Quil was stirring awake.

“Hey, assholes. You’re late. You were supposed to be at Sam’s at 11:30.” He scolds, throwing a pillow at Quil to finish the job of waking him up.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” He wakes up, beginning to panic.

“Embry and I are done. It’s your turn, but Embry can’t go to bed until your asses get up and take over. It’s your turn for patrol.” He throws another at Jacob.

“Paul.” Quil said sternly, nodding his head over to me.

Paul looks over at me, realizing that I was in the room.

They must’ve not known I was awake and listening.

“Don’t wake her up.” Quil says quickly.

“It’s okay, I’m up. I should probably get home anyway. Then you guys can go help your friend with whatever you have to.” I say, yawning.

“And who are you, pretty lady?” Paul looks at me, smiling.

“I’m (Y/N).” I smile back, trying not to blush at the compliment.

“Oh shit, no way. I haven’t seen you in years, I couldn’t even tell in the dark. These guys talk about you all the time.” He smiles as he steps forward.

I get up and give him a tired hug hello, noticing that he, too, feels hot like Quil and Jake. He also had the same tattoo as them, I wonder if the whole friend group had it.

“You look great.” He smirks at me.

“You got huge, too. What the hell happened to all of you?” I ask sleepily, laughing a bit.

“Just a lot of working out, I guess. Even though I was massive before you left.” He elbows my side lightly.

“Oh, Paul. You haven’t changed one bit, huh?” I joke.

“Nope, guess not.” He says.

“Jake, get up.” Quil says, shaking the boy in his sleep.

“What?” He groans.

“Get up, pretty boy. You’re late.” Paul says, walking over to wake him up.

“Oh shit.” He says, jumping out of the seat like his ass was on fire.

“What are you guys helping him with so late?” I ask.

“Uh, they’re helping him with some work around the house. A pipe is leaking, we tried to help, but Jacob and Quil are gonna fix it. Because we couldn’t. So, yeah.” Paul says, smiling at me.

“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Text me in the morning, let me know a good time to come surprise Embry tomorrow.” I say, walking out of the house.

“You got it. We’ll call you.” Quil hugs me goodbye, followed by Jacob.

“I’m so glad to have you back, (Y/N).” Jacob smiles at me.

“Me too.” I smile, walking out the door and leaving the house behind. Pulling away from his house I see them all walk outside, waving goodbye.

_________________________________

Word count: 2756

This is part one of the series I accidentally started today. I hope you all enjoy!

I II III IV V VI VII VIII VIIII X XIR XIE XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIIII

#embry call #embry call x reader #jacob black #jacob black x reader #Quil Ateara #jared cameron #quil ateara x reader #sam uley #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #paul lahote #wolf pack #wolf pack x reader #twilight #twilight x reader #embry call fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #embry call imagine

292 notes · View notes

just-my-fandom · 3 years

Text

Low Expectations (Vanya Hargreeves x Reader)

Summary; The Hargreeve siblings meet Vanyas shy, kept together wife at Reginald Hargreeves funeral. Diego and Five don’t trust her.

Warning(s); Diego’s an asshole lmao. Five too. Slight suggestive themes at the end.

We reached 2K followers! 🎉

Date started; December 18th, 2020

Date posted; December 20th, 2020

. . .

“I don’t know about this,” Your voice is quiet as you stand at the entrance way of the Umbrella Academy, Vanyas hand tight in yours, your free hand clutching at the sleeve of her coat,

“It’s going to be perfectly fine,” Your wife promises, her own free hand tucking hair behind your ear, smiling reassuringly, “It might take them a minute to warm up to a new face, but, they’ll come around,”

“I hope so,” You murmur, Vanya barely pecking the side of your head before the door opens, revealing a tall skinny male- one you recognized as Klaus from the details your wife has given you,

“Vanya!” He cheers, immediately, hands raising excitedly as he leans on the door, “Youre here! And you brought a lady friend,” His eyes shift to you, where you swallow, smiling despite leaning further to Vanyas side.

“Hi Klaus,” Vanya smiles, gently tugging at your fingers to pull you into the Manor next to her, “This is Y/N, my wife,”

“Wife?” A woman with dark skin comes up, her arms crossed, “I didn’t know you got married,”

“It wasn’t a big wedding, or anything,” Vanya reassures, tightening her grip on your hand when you exhale, shakily, “I sent out letters. They must not have gotten in,”

“Or you just didn’t care,” A man in armor states, moving past you without a wave, “What’re you doing here anyways? You’re not welcome,”

“Really?” Allison snaps, “You’re gonna do this today? Way to dress for the occasion, by the way,”

“At least I’m wearing black,” Diego snips, your brows pinching with worry, as you look down at your black dress pants and brown sweater. Vanya gently shakes her head in reassurance, smiling weakly as if to tell you, he’s always like that.

“I’m sorry about him,” Allison breathes, extending a hand so you released Vanyas sleeve to take it, “I’m Allison. Vanyas older sister,”

“Technically we’re all the same age,” A deep grunt from behind you startled you to look over your shoulder, where a largely built man crosses his arms, though he painfully smiled, “I’m Luther. Nice to meet you,”

“Y/N,” You exhale, looking back to Vanya when she taps your knuckles with her thumb, her brows pinched at your flushed expression,

“Let’s go get something to drink,” She murmurs, leading you to where she remembered where the dining area was, your lungs exhaling a deep breath as you sit at one of the two couches, sinking into your thick sweater.

“I know they can be a little overwhelming,” Vanya speaks, quietly, sitting next to you and handing you a glass of water, “But they’ll warm up to you. I swear,”

“Maybe Diego’s right,” You lower your cup into your lap, looking over to your wives eyes, “I’m not family. I don’t belong to be here,”

“Who cares if Diego doesn’t think you belong?” Vanya takes your hand in hers, moving it to rest in her own lap, “I want you here. That’s all that matters,”

“Then that’s all that matters to me,” You smile, Vanya leaning sideways to peck your lips, softly,

“Welcome home, Mrs. Vanya,” You instantly pull away to look over at the chimpanzee with a cane, his figure slouched in the doorway,

“Pogo,” Vanya smiles, Pogo nodding in greet before his eyes shift to you,

“You must be Mrs. Y/N. I am so glad to finally meet you, despite the situation,”

Your eyebrows raise, “You know about me?”

“Well of course,” Pogo nods, smiling, “I happened to receive your letter,”

Vanya smiles again, glancing at you, Pogo lifting a hand before he steps away, Klaus walking around the shorter monkey to collapse onto the couch beside you, a glass of what looked to be alcohol in his hand,

You feel yourself lean into Vanya, eyeing the male, where he glances over at you and holds up his cup, “Would you like a sip?”

“No, thank you,” You murmur, Vanya squinting her eyes at her brother before watching as the rest of her siblings piled in, Luther remaining standing as Diego sat on the opposite couch, and Allison settled in the small chair,

“I think we should hold a small memorial at sun fall,” Luther starts, “At dads favorite spot,”

“Dad had a favorite spot?” Allison asks, Luther glancing to her, brows knitted,

“Yeah. Under the Oak Tree. Did you not know that?”

“Okay, great,” Diego stands up, rolling his shoulders, “Why else did you force this family meeting?” His eyes stare at you, “And why is she even in here?”

“Diego,” Vanya shuts her eyes in annoyance,

“To find out what happened to dad,” Luther cuts, when seeing the flash of hurt in your eyes,

“What do you mean?” Vanya questions, “I thought they said it was a heart attack,”

“But do you really believe that?” Luther asks back, and you shift to sit up,

“Should I wait outside?” You ask, feeling as if invading their family matter, Vanyas hand raising to your upper back, soothingly, “No, sweetheart-,”

“That would be great. Thanks,” Diego smiles, sarcastically, Allison hissing out his name, threateningly, “What? Vanya brings some girl to dads funeral without telling us and now she gets in on our family business? Does she even know we have powers?” He leans forward, eyes on you, “Do you? Do you know we’re freaks?”

“Diego!” Vanya and Allison both shout, Vanyas hand forced to drop when you stand up, setting down your glass before moving back to the front of the manor,

“Y/N,” Vanya pleas, standing up after you, “Wait,”

“Nice going, asshole,” Allison spits, watching as Vanya moved after you, her hand catching your wrist, spinning you back to her so the siblings could see the teary gleam in your eyes,

“He’s right,” You whisper, shaking your head as you close your eyes, “Stay here, with your family. I’ll go home,”

“I’m not letting you leave upset,” Vanya breathes, and your eyes open,

“It’s obvious I’m not wanted here,” You state, “They don’t like me,”

“They don’t know you enough to decide if they like you or not,” Vanya argues, her hand now linked through yours, “I want you here. I don’t give a shit if they do or not. They’re not married to you, I am,” Vanya tilts her head, “Please?”

“Okay,” You nod, running a hand through your hair, Vanya humming in thought. She turns to her siblings, all staring at you,

“Call us when you’re ready for the memorial,” She turns back to you, tugging your arm towards the stairs to the bedrooms.

. . .

“What’s the date? The exact date,”

Your eyes watch as the youngest- or oldest- Hargreeve sibling moves around the kitchen, pulling out bread, peanut butter, and marshmallows,

“The twenty fourth,” Vanya answers, seat close to yours, her hand at your thigh beneath the table in a form of comfort as you warily watched her brother,

“Of what?”

“March,”

“Good,” Five sighs, Luther raising an eyebrow as he glances to his siblings,

“So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” At Fives silence, Luther stands up so you nearly jump, “It’s been seventeen years,”

Five scoffs, “It’s been a lot longer than that,” He vanishes so your lips parted, looking at Vanya, so she took your hand and mouthed later, looking up at where Five reappeared in front of the cabinets,

“Where’d you go?” Diego asks, eyes narrowing at Vanya before he glances to Five,

“The future. It’s shit, by the way,”

“Called it,” Klaus speaks up, your brows pinching,

“The future?” You question, Five finally settling his gaze to you as he moved back to the front of the table,

“Yes. The future. Who are you, by the way?”

“Oh,” You smile, nervously, “I’m Y/N, Vanyas-,”

“Know what? Don’t really care,” Five grunts, and you press your lips together, leaning back in your seat, “Nice to see nothings changed,”

“That’s it?” Allison calls, watching Five move to leave, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say? Circle of life,”

. . .

You shift closer against Vanyas side under the umbrella, staring at your already muddy boots before glancing up to the seven other figures around you,

“Did something happen?” Vanyas robotic mother, Grace, questions, Vanyas brows pinching as her gloved hand held yours,

“Dad died,” Allison reminds, “Remember?”

“Oh,” Grace frowns, “Yes. Of course,”

You glance over to Pogo stepping up beside you, “Whenever you’re ready,” He directs Luther, “Dear boy,”

You feel Vanya squeeze your hand as Luther dumps Reginalds ashes into the grass, your own fingers squeezing back reassuringly so she glanced over to you, your lips pulling into a small, comforting smile,

“Look, you wanna pay your respects?” Diego suddenly asks, your head turning to see him stepping into the middle of the circle, body drenched as he decided to go without an umbrella, “Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was,”

“You should stop talking now,” Luther demands, your eyes snapping to him, worriedly,

“Van?”

“It’s okay,” She whispers, watching Diego turn to Luther,

“You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One,”

“I am warning you,” Luther snarls, Diego quick to continue,

“After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away. That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!” You jump when Luther grabs the hand Diego jabbed at his chest, his free hand balling into a fist to throw at Diego’s head.

Vanya is quick to slide her arm to your shoulders, leading you backwards and behind Grace, your eyes wide as the two brothers lunged for each other,

“Okay,” Vanya rushes, when Diego slips out a knife, “Let’s go inside. Now,”

“Is this normal?” You question, Vanya lowering her arm to take your hand a second time, pulling you towards the house doors,

. . .

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Vanya asks you as she unlocks the door, opening the front to the shared apartment you lived in,

“I’m sure,” You state, voice quiet, following after her and opening your mouth to continue, but jump when the lamp turns itself on, Five appearing in the love seat beside it,

“Jesus,” Vanya hisses, your hand at your chest

“You should have locks on your windows,” Five states, Vanya setting down her keys as you shut the door behind you,

“We live on the second floor,”

“Rapists can climb,” Five raises an eyebrow, your own pinching as Vanya glances to you,

“You are so weird,” She moves towards the couch, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve decided you’re the only one I can trust. Because you’ll listen,” Fives eyes flick to you, Vanya following his gaze so you looked at her,

“I’ll go take a shower,” You rush, pulling off your jacket as she frowns, “Let you two talk,”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Vanya orders, where you nod, smiling before moving to the back part of the apartment,

“Nice girl,” Five clears his throat, as Vanya pulled out gauze for the blood at his arm, “Who is she? Roommate?”

“Well if you would have let her finish earlier,” Vanya sits next to him, patting the alcohol covered wipe over the cut at his arm, “You would have known she’s my wife,”

“Never thought of you being the marriage type,” Five leans forward to look around the corner, “Or to have a type for girls,”

“Well you haven’t seen me in seventeen years,” Vanya raises an eyebrow, Five rolling his eyes as he huffs.

“When I jumped forward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found?”

“No,” Vanya answers, wiping away the blood on Fives arm,

“Nothing,” Five states, “Absolutely nothing. As far as I could tell, I was the last person left alive. I never figured out what killed the human race, but, I did find something else,”

A pause, “The date it happens. The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it,”

Vanyas lips part, hearing the shower faucet shut off, “You know what, it’s late, I have lessons early, and Y/N and I have errands to run, and I need sleep and I’m sure you do, too. We’ll talk again in the morning, okay? I promise,” She pauses, “I just, don’t want to drag Y/N into any of this,”

Five narrows his eyes, “You think she’d really believe you, anyway?”

Vanya turns to stare at him, Five watching her depart to where you sat on the bed, now in pajamas and towel squeezing the water from your hair,

“Hey,” You greet, as she began to undress, “What did he need to talk about?”

“Nothing,” Vanya smiles, moving up to lean across the bed to press a soft, short kiss to your lips, “I’ll tell you about it in the morning,”

“Okay,” You murmur, smiling as your eyes flicked between hers, “Hurry and get situated, you have lessons early tomorrow,”

Your wife smiles, leaving herself in a long shirt, before she slips underneath the covers, tugging on your arm so you shifted to press to her side, arm looping at her waist and head on her shoulder,

A beat of silence, “Thank you for being there for me today,” Vanya speaks, her fingers drawing circles at your arm, “Even though my family can be assholes,”

“Not all of them,” You lift your head, reaching up to pull Vanyas hair free of its ponytail, running your fingers through her locks, “Allison was super sweet, and Pogo, too,”

“Pogos always been like that,” Vanya shakes her head, “And Allison’s just making up for not talking to me in ten years,”

“Well they’re still your family,” You slide your hand down the side of her face, to cup the back of her neck, “Whether they’re assholes or not,” You tease, Vanya chuckling as you lean down, pressing your lips against hers, slowly,

. . .

“Y/N?” The quiet voice of your wife calls you to peer into the kitchen, where Vanya silently shut the front door behind her,

“Hey,” You greet, moving towards her with a smile, “How was the audition?”

You silently watch as Vanya sets down her violin case, looking up at you with a new grin on her face,

“You got it?” You guess, Vanya nodding with a short laugh, “You got first chair!?”

“I got it,” Vanya breathes, your arms throwing themselves around her shoulders as her own catch your waist, pulling you against her in an accepting embrace,

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” You bounce on your toes, leaning back to caress her face, pulling her forward for a kiss, her hand lifting to your head to keep you close to her,

She exhales against your lips, smiling in time with you, her eyes opening to see you grin,

“This deserves a celebrity dinner,” You state, moving to grab your jacket, “And we can call your siblings, and-,”

“Can we,” Vanya catches your arm, your brows pinching as you look at her from grabbing your hat, “Not tell them?” At your visible confusion, she shrugs, “I like this just being something between us,”

“Yeah,” You nod, breathlessly, “Yeah, sure,” You smile, Vanya exhaling before she moves forward again, pressing her lips against yours so the door shut behind you, your back pressing against the wood,

You giggle, arms sliding around her neck to pull her closer, where she breathlessly leans away, “Can we stay in?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” You murmur, tugging on her sleeve towards your shared bedroom, where Vanya smiles and drops her keys on the kitchen table.

#vanya hargreeves imagine #vanya hargreeves #vanya hargreeves x reader #Vanya hargreeves one shot #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #Diego hargreeves #five hargreeves

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

The Ritual of Propagation

Alright. This is happening.

I made a post earlier about having a fic that is both NS/FW and contains r*pe/non-con. This is it: "The Ritual of Propagation," first story in what will apparently be a series, "Aziraphale's Children."

You will probably not be surprised to learn based on those two sentences that this fic contains r*pe (physical and metaphysical/True Form), pr*gnancy (forced and consensual), references to miscarriage, and the usual range of violence, threats, emotional abuse, and absurd amounts of gaslighting heaped on our favorite angel. To balance it, LOTS of love and affection between our angel and demon at their South Downs cottage, navigating their way through past trauma.

Actual description:

When the War in Heaven took its toll, decimating the Legions of Heaven, there was only one way to rebuild their numbers: The Ritual of Propagation.

To Aziraphale, it was simply a duty, a task the Archangels asked him to perform countless times.

But, an eternity later, Crowley sees something far darker and more sinister in the angel's stories.

Can Crowley help his husband acknowledge the abuse he suffered? And can they find away through the pain and trauma to start the family they both desire?

Snippet is below the break, contains references to miscarriage and forced pr*gnancy, but cuts off before anything too dark/explicit.

All across Creation, the War raged. Wave after wave of loyal angels crushing the Rebellion, driving the Dissidents, the forces of the Wicked back to the farthest reaches of the universe where they belonged. Endless battles fought by the Legions of Heaven, weapons igniting the void with the Flames of Truth.

Perched on the edge of his bed, Aziraphale watched it all through the window. Little lights in the darkness, flitting about.

“You were lucky,” droned the fourth-class medic, inspecting his left upper wing. Aziraphale tried to smile, but kept his eyes on the distant battle. “Only lost three of them. A fall like that, it could have been much worse.”

“Yes. Very lucky.” Aziraphale didn’t feel lucky. He felt tired. The burden each wing carried weighed him down, sapped his energy in a way combat never had. Yet somehow the absence of weight on his wing was even more painful. “How are the rest?”

“No permanent damage. But it’s a good thing we found you when we did.” The medic turned to Gabriel, who waited at the far end of the drab, colorless room, arms crossed. “If his condition continues in this way, I’m afraid we’ll have to restrict his activities. Bed rest, supervised visits to the recreation hall—”

“I thought,” Gabriel said in a voice that made Aziraphale’s heart drop, “that he was already restricted.”

The medic sighed, flipping through a chart. “We’ll have to be more specific with the door guards. Apparently, he snuck out with a larger party.”

“I wasn’t sneaking. It was just one walk around the gardens. I missed the flowers.” While the other angels were occupied, Aziraphale lifted a hand to touch the bare patch of white feathers. “And a little exercise does so much good for them.” One of the small globes of golden light shifted, brushing up against his fingers, followed by a second, then a third. He quickly pulled his hand away, glancing towards Gabriel.

The Archangel watched him, eyes narrowed. “You can get exercise indoors. Just like everyone else.”

“Everyone else is allowed outside.”

“Everyone else still remembers how to walk!”

He pressed his lips together, trying not to shake. It wasn’t that he couldn’t walk. He was just—so— tired. “You know I… I never had these accidents when it was fifteen per wing. Perhaps if we… eased off…”

“It isn’t up to you,” the Archangel reminded him coldly. “Or to me, or to anyone else. If God grants you twenty-seven on a wing, that’s what She wants you to carry. This was a blessing,” his voice grew more heated with every word, “a sign of confidence in you. Do you understand how rare that is? How few angels have been singled out for anything like this honor? You have been given a Duty, a Sacred Task, and instead of accepting it like a proper angel, like the Guardian you are supposed to be, what do you do? Wander out of the facility meant to keep you safe, and then, when you’re good and lost, fall off the path and lose three at once.”

“I wasn’t lost, I just—”

“Aziraphale!” Now Gabriel was furious, violet eyes smoldering. “I have had enough of your back talk. Just—for once, shut your mouth and do as you’re told.”

Aziraphale shifted on the bed, turning back to the lights of the distant battle. A few of them flickered out.

“He does have a point,” the medic put in, tugging on Aziraphale’s lower right wing, where the largest of the globes hung. “Look at this— thirty. The largest clutch we’ve ever had. And very healthy, but at least eight are undersized.

“But some are above average, yes?”

“Mmmh.” The medic’s fingers flicked through his feathers, counting. “Six. But according to the notes, it used to be at least ten, consistently, every time. If you wish to prioritize strength over numbers—”

“We need to prioritize both,” Gabriel snapped, walking closer. “The War isn’t just going to wait for us.” He jabbed one of the largest globes roughly with his finger, and Aziraphale felt a tingle of fear race up his wing. He tried to think soothing thoughts, but he didn’t dare move. “Even undersized for him, they’re still well above average for everyone else. We’ll just have to watch him more closely.”

With one more disappointed glare, Gabriel ushered the medic towards the door, leaving Aziraphale alone. Or as close to alone as he ever got.

His fingers brushed the bare patch again, this time allowing the remaining globes to bump against his fingers. He could feel their curiosity, and their concern.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am so… so sorry…”

Before the War, this facility had housed the Angels of Creation. The enclosed gardens still held their work, a wild array of plants and animals, a million varieties, the best of which would be sent to Earth when it was created. It had been marvelous to get away from prying eyes for just a moment, to see the rich array of colors, to hear the singing of birds in the trees.

But all at once his legs had given out—

Hearing Gabriel approach, Aziraphale dropped his hand, slowly pushing himself back into bed. But the Archangel put a hand on his shoulder.

Aziraphale stared for a moment, uncomprehending. “But… my wings are full.”

“Twenty-five per wing, minimum. If you lost three, that means this one has only twenty-four.”

That bit of arithmetic was almost too complex for Aziraphale’s addled mind. “But. The rest are already so large.” He flexed his lower right wing, looking at the ripening globes that nestled among his feathers. “And these are nearly ready. Surely we should wait—”

The hand grew painfully tight. “It isn’t. Up. To you.”

“But…”

“Do not make me say it again.”

#good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #emotional h/c #my wips #hurt aziraphale #mpreg cw #cw noncon #cw gaslighting #aziraphale #crowley #gabriel #gabriel is a bad angel #my writing #aziraphale's Children #bad angel

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cordria · 3 years

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27 and 100

I spent the longest time yesterday turning this over and over in my head today. Instantly, my head jumped to Danny being sick and saving the day, but that’s been done a thousand times over. Then I went down the path of someone being sick and Danny saving them… but that doesn’t honor the spirit of the challenge. Besides, the funnest word in the prompt is ‘accidentally’. And Danny doesn’t usually ‘accidentally’ save someone. So I had to find someone else.

I jumbled through everyone I could think of, before stumbling upon the greatest idea while I was sleeping. Like a shot out of the blue. Or, perhaps, an upside-down ring. Our very own, our favorite...

Vaguely edited.

27+100 (sick+accidentally saved the day)

Wes watched dozens of his classmates playing a variety of games, scattered around the park. It was a beautiful Saturday. The sun was shining, the wind was gently blowing the spring leaves, and birds were chirping and fluttering around. Despite the gorgeous day, Wes was in a bad mood. He crossed his arms and slumped down at the picnic table, glaring at anyone who dared come too close.

“I’m joining your movement,” came a voice.

Wes turned his glared at the newcomer, then blinked and lost his scowl for a moment. “Jazz Fenton,” he said, in a grumpy sort of greeting. “What do you want?”

“I told you.” She had her arms crossed, and sat gingerly down on the bench next to him. “I’m joining you.”

Was kicked up the scowl. “I’m not in the mood for-”

“Look, I just got told I was the recipient of a nearly five centuries old curse-” Wes flinched at the look she gave him. The normally cheerful and helpful girl had a dark gleam in her eyes and a scowl. “And don’t you give me that look,” she continued. “I get that you don’t believe me.” She slumped down further, shoulders creeping up around her ears. “Nobody appears to believe me. Figured you’d understand.”

Wes blinked. “What?”

“Watch.” Jazz leaned forwards. “Hey Valerie!”

The black-haired girl, who was walking past with an ice-cream in her hand, paused. She glanced at them, gazing jumping between the two. Wes squirmed a moment, wondering what she was thinking. “What?”

“Danny’s Phantom,” Jazz said.

Wes blinked at the bluntness. “Wha-”

Valerie cut him off with laughter. “Yeah, whatever. Are you joining the Weston loony-train?”

“Seriously,” Jazz said, a slight frown on her face. “I should know. I share a house with him.”

“Funny. Where is your brother, anyways? He still owes me a movie.”

“Home sick,” Jazz said. “You know how he quarantines himself every time he gets sick, now.”

Valerie rolled her eyes at that, and Wes spoke up. “Why does he do that, anyways?”

“He brought home a ghost flu once. Nearly contaminated two worlds with a crazy half-human, half-ghost virus.” Jazz leaned back against the picnic table, resting her elbows on the top. “He’s probably making the best choice. What’s missing a day or two of fun when you risk causing a two-worlds-wide pandemic by walking out your front door?”

Valerie gave her an odd look and she walked away, licking at her ice cream.

Wes waited a beat. He recognized the look. “She didn’t believe you.”

“Yeah…” Jazz said, kicking her foot. “I tried it out on my parents this morning. Same look.”

“You’re really cursed.”

“Seems like.” Jazz scowled. “I’m apparently doomed to spend my life knowing the truth but having nobody believe me.”

“I believe you,” Wes offered.

“You already know the truth,” she groused. “You wouldn’t believe me for things you don’t know-” Jazz cut off suddenly, eyes sharp as she sat up. “Valerie is the red huntress.”

Wes raised an eyebrow. “Uh…” He tried to picture the two in his head, the preppy girl with the angry ghost hunter. Perhaps they had a similar silhouette, but a lot of girls had that silhouette. He just couldn’t imagine Valerie being that angry all the time. “Yeah, no. That doesn’t make sense.”

Jazz twisted up a corner of her mouth and shook a finger towards him. “I-”

A blast of light sent them both scurrying underneath the picnic table. There were screams and yells as people all over the park ran for cover.

“And of course Danny’s home sick,” Jazz muttered.

Wes watched, heart beating in his throat, as Jazz dug through her bag and pulled out a too-small ectogun. “Are you going to kill it?”

Jazz sent him a dark look. “Not a chance. I’m just hoping it ignores us.”

The picnic table they were hiding under quivered and shook, then it suddenly sank about an inch into the dirt, the boards over their heads shrieking and bending. Wes ducked low, huddling into a ball, and fighting down a scream of terror.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” the ghost roared.

Jazz was right next to him, pale and shaking. “Don’t. Move,” she breathed.

The picnic table sank a bit more when the ghost stomped it’s foot.

The sound of the picnic table taking that force made Wes flinch. He couldn’t help imagining what was going to happen when the boards gave out. The ghost squashing them flat. Shards of wood impaling them. “If we stay we die,” he hissed back.

Jazz clamped a hand over his mouth with a glare. She pointed at him, then at the ground where they were crouched.

Wes got the message. He just wasn’t sure he agreed with it. Running had to be better than hiding here.

The ghost standing less than a foot over their heads howled. “I will destroy this town, and I will start here!” A huge blast tore into the ground around the picnic table. “I have heard tell of the hunters of this zone from a hundred prey.” Another huge flare of light toppled a tree nearby, sending a cloud of smoke and flames roaring into the air. “Come stop me, fierce hunters, if that is what you truly are!”

Wes stared at the destruction, sinking into an even smaller ball. Jazz was right. Stay it was. He tore his eyes off a park pavilion that had just burst into an explosion of wood chips and glanced at the girl.

Jazz was staring at her ectogun, then kept looking up over their heads. Wes’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t possibly be thinking of attacking the thing. Not with that little gun. He shook his head, pointing at the gun.

She scowled at him. “I know what I’m doing,” she breathed.

Wes didn’t believe that for one minute. He’d personally witnessed the disaster of Jazz joining the Phantom team. It hadn’t gone well. “Give me that,” he hissed in her ear, grabbing the gun. She yanked it out of his reach.

There was another explosion somewhere off to Wes’s left, and the picnic table creaked and sank another inch into the ground. Wes felt the blood drain from his face. He was going to die.

Jazz aimed the gun straight up. What was she going to do, shoot through the picnic table?

Wes panicked. The ghost would kill them! He launched himself onto her, grabbing for the gun.

Whether he had misjudged his jump, or had anticipated that Jazz would fight more, or the result of an unfortunately timed kick on Jazz’s part… didn’t matter in the end. What did matter was that Wes ended up with the ectogun, and that he ended up rolling right out from underneath the picnic table. He scrambled into a crouch as the ghost turned its eyes on him.

It was a huge caricature of a female Viking warrior - one out of a horrible video game with gleaming armor, huge sword, and miles of green skin. Its face split into a horrible grin, eyes focusing on the tiny gun whining in Wes’s hands. “Are you one of the hunters I’ve heard so much about?”

Wes’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t move.

The ghost aimed its glowing sword at him. “And what do you hunters look like when you’re blown into a thousand pieces?”

“Throw it!” Jazz shouted.

The ectogun in Wes’s hands had gotten hot. Burning hot. His-hands-were-screaming-in-pain hot.

“It’s set to overload! Throw it!”

Wes closed his eyes. He was going to die. He was going to die. He threw the gun blindly, wrapped his hands around his head, and curled up in a ball just as the last of his blood drained from his head.

He collapsed, out cold.

He heard about how it went an hour or so later, when he was at the hospital getting the burns on his hands checked out. His wild throw had hit the ghost smack in the head, the gun had tumbled into the ghost’s ample armor, and it had exploded. The concussive blast so close to the ghost’s core had destabilized it just enough that the Red Huntress (who had shown up a few convenient seconds after Wes had fainted) was able to mop up the remains without too much trouble. Jazz had been the one responsible for getting his unconscious body to safety and then to the hospital.

Wes wrinkled his nose and stared down at the bandages on his hands. His brother was claiming he was a hero - even showed up to his hospital bed with a balloon with the word ‘hero’ permanent-markered across its face. “Getting your picture for the paper, bro,” Kyle said, using his phone to snap what had to be the worst-looking picture Wes had ever been part of. “You saved our town from nonexistent, invisible monsters! Gonna make the front page in this clown car of a town.”

Outside the window, it was a beautiful Saturday evening. The sun was low in the sky and faint clouds were purpling the horizon. Despite the gorgeous view, Wes was having a bad day.

He groaned. “Go away. The painkillers haven’t set in enough to deal with you.”

#danny phantom #ask game #this one was fun. :)#dragonsdomain

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 20: Moxiety

@tsshipmonth2020

(Yes this is out of order, but I figured I’d rather give you guys out of order content than no content at all. Hope that’s okay.)

Day 20 - You can send one item to your soulmate every year.

Content warning: Christmas, food mentions, homophobic family members mentions, serious fluffiness.

Word count: 2.7k

Songs mentioned in this fic: “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” and “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.

Patton’s eyes scanned over the letter, barely reading the words he’d read many times before. After the first time he’d gotten one, years ago, he’d re-read it so many times he’d committed it to memory.

Patton Hart,

You are receiving this notice to inform you that the annual soulmate item exchange is arriving. On December 24th, BEFORE MIDNIGHT, please bring your package to your nearest postal service or drop box, marked clearly with the provided adhesive label on the TOP. Item must be contained in the shipping box provided. Other boxes will not be accepted. If the drop off time is missed, your package will not be received.

There was no signature, no return address, no number to call. At first, he’d been slightly suspicious, since everyone he asked had no further information than what was on the small letter, but after the first year, when a beautiful black and gold notebook and a matching pen had shown up on his doorstep on Christmas morning, he’d decided to heck with his worries. Despite his initial curiosity, he’d sent a gift anyways (if it was legitimate, he wasn’t about to leave his partner without a present!), a grey beanie that he’d stitched a small heart and message into.

He giddily placed the letter back into the envelope and stuck it into the gap between the hallway mirror and the wall so he wouldn’t forget. Although, he doubted he would. He’d already bought a present, months ago, when his eyes fell upon a black and purple striped sweater in the window of the mall. The black thin stripes occasionally jumped, looking like the lines on a heart monitor, and it hooked him instantly. It was simplistic yet eye catching and unique, like the gifts Patton always received from his soulmate, so he immediately bought it and wrapped it as soon as he got home. He didn’t know his soulmate’s size, but you really can’t go wrong with an extra large (baggy sleeves are ideal, after all).

His time passed quickly, filled with movie nights with his roommate (who insisted on watching Nightmare before Christmas at least once a week) and trying new Christmas cookie recipes. It was his favorite holiday, with the songs and the decorations and the ever present smell of cinnamon in every store, so the moment they had passed Halloween, every moment was filled with his Christmas playlists and cheesy holiday sweaters. His family was coming to his place for their celebration this year, so the place was decked out with tinsel and little snowy villages, candles and fairy lights on every wall, and of course, their tree in the corner of the living room. It was going to be… amazing.

He’d offered to take his roommate’s soulmate item along with him to the post office, seeing as he was uneasy in high crowd situations, and soulmate exchange days were always insanely busy. It had been the right move, too, because as soon as the office came into view, he could already see the crowd of people milling outside, trying to get into the small door. What could you expect, though, only giving people a twenty four hour window to all show up to the same spot? By the time he got inside and got both packages passed to the handler on the other side (an arduous process, since they had to check each gift thoroughly to ensure there were no cards or any other way to identify the sender), it was dark outside. All he wanted to do was curl up with some hot chocolate and watch the Grinch, as the two of them had planned.

That’s what they did, falling asleep on the couch in the process. They were awoken in the morning by a knock at the door, Patton gently extracting himself from Virgil’s arms and turning off the TV, cringing that the cover screen of the movie had been on all night. The other mumbled in annoyance at his heat source disappearing and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s too early.”

“Merry Christmas, Virge!” Patton shrieked, ignoring his roommate’s mock irritated snarl as he gave him a tight hug. “Let’s go get our gifts!”

Begrudgingly, Virgil followed him to the door that he flung open, revealing two small parcels on the step. The labels from the senders had been replaced with simple name tags, another way to ensure that their soulmates would not be traceable. The other houses on the block all had similar ones outside their doors, and the carrier was nowhere to be seen, as usual. He picked them both up, handing Virgil his, and running back into the kitchen to get scissors, pretty much vibrating with glee.

“I’m making coffee first. You want some?”

Patton hummed, looking between the gift before him and Virgil’s tired eyes. “This can wait. Let’s have coffee.”

Virgil was barely able to conceal with excitement at being chosen over a Christmas present by someone who was essentially an overgrown child, pulling out two mugs. He passed his package to Patton, who placed it beside his on the table, and shuffled around his roommate to start on breakfast.

“It’s Christmas. You’re going to eat breakfast for once,” Patton interrupted the moment Virgil started complaining, grinning widely when he finally agreed.

“Do you ever wonder who your soulmate’s gonna be? What they’ll be like?” Virgil asked as he poured the coffee grounds, dangerously precise as always. The elder hummed.

“They’re your soulmate. So I guess, a perfect match to you. It’s not like they won’t like you or anything. That’s against the whole point!” An egg sizzled as it hit the pan, quickly followed by another.

“I guess,” He mumbled, clicking the on button on the machine. The smell of coffee quickly filled the small kitchen, “So when is your family getting here?”

“Around noon,” Patton chirped, flipping the first egg while simultaneously popping bread in the toaster with his other hand, “I like to cook, but my moms don’t trust me to make the main dish alone. My sisters are super excited to be old enough to help make food this year-- it’s so cute. But yeah, they should be here by noon.”

Virgil cracked a pained smile, watching the dripping coffee into the pot. “Okay. I’ll be out of your hair by then.”

Patton’s hand froze in mid air, whipping around to his roommate. “Excuse me?”

“I said I’ll be gone by then,” Virgil repeated, looking down to play with the hem of his sweater, “Do you want me to leave earlier? I can if you want.” His voice very nearly cracked as he spoke, tone getting quieter with each word. Patton’s heart shattered.

“Why do you think I want you to leave?” He whispered, blindly shutting the stove off behind him so the eggs wouldn’t burn. The toast popping startled them both, but neither could find it in them to laugh as they usually would have. Virgil shrugged.

“I mean, your family’s coming over. I’m not family. And I know you were super excited for them to come over, and I don’t want to… ruin the vibe,” He shook his fingers in weak jazz hands, shooting a watery grin at Patton. “I was just planning to go to the mall or something. I think it’s open-”

His words were silenced as Patton threw his arms around Virgil’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. It was no secret that Virgil didn’t get along well with his own family. That was the understatement of the year, really. Patton didn’t know the details, refused to pry, all he knew is that it had something to do with Virgil coming out to a pretty conservative family, an action that ended with him being split off from everyone. He had lost his little brother to his parents cutting contact, among other things, and Patton realized with a start that this was Virgil’s first Christmas without his family.

In the single year they’d been roommates, the two had grown closer than any childhood friend Patton had kept throughout the years. Heck, he’d maybe consider them closer than he was with his moms, and that was saying a lot. For them to even fall asleep on the couch after a movie night, as they’d done last night, was a regular occurrence for them. They admitted secrets to each other they hadn’t fully admitted to themselves, about their own aromantic natures, about what that meant for soulmates, about what kind of pie was the best. Not all their conversations were deep.

“You are family, Virge,” Patton whispered, resting his chin on the other’s shoulder. “And unless you have a legitimate reason not to, you’re staying here. My family will love you, I swear,” He added quickly, knowing the other’s tendency to grow anxious around new people.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin-”

“I will physically fight you,” He hissed before the other could finish, pulling out of the hug with a soft kiss to his temple. “Stay. For me?”

“Fine,” Virgil rolled his eyes, turning away in fake annoyance to pour their coffee, “For you.” He had a reputation to uphold after all, and him nearly crying was not great for it.

Just as they finished breakfast, Patton eyeing his present next to him with, again, startling resemblance to an excited child, there was a knock at the door. The roommates shared a confused glance, silently communicating that ‘no, I’m not expecting anyone’ before Patton got up to open it. He’d barely unlocked the latch when it burst open of its own accord, a loud shriek of “PATTY!” echoing through the small entryway.

“You guys are early!” Patton laughed as two small girls attempted to squeeze him to death around his torso, the pair having the same blond curls as Patton.

“These two just couldn’t wait to see you,” A woman Virgil assumed to be one of Patton’s mother’s smiled, angling above the girls to give Patton a gentle hug which he eagerly returned.

He quickly led them all inside, introducing a nearly shaking Virgil to his family. His other mom was carrying a box laden with uncooked food, and began to set it out in the small kitchen to begin preparing it. The girls, after a bit of hesitation, flocked to Virgil.

“Why’s your hair purple?” One asked, pulling herself onto Virgil’s lap. Her southern accent was just as strong as her moms’, reminding him of the accent Patton had slowly lost since moving in with him. It wasn’t gone all the way, just dimmed, but from the kitchen, he could hear his roommate talking to his moms animatedly, the accent back in all its glory.

“I drank too much grape soda,” Virgil lamented, “When I was little, I couldn’t get enough of it. And then it turned my hair purple.”

“No, it didn’t!” The girl leaning on his knee giggled.

“Are you saying I’m a liar?” He gasped, placing a hand over his heart, “How dare you!”

They both erupted into shrieking laughs, causing Patton to poke his head out of the kitchen. Virgil couldn’t help grinning widely at him as the second girl pulled herself onto his lap as well, causing Patton’s face to light up like the sun.

“Did you know Christmas is my favorite holiday?”

“Is it really? Why’s that?” Virgil asked, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s mine, too!”

“Nu uh, it’s only mine!”

“We can have the same favorite!”

“Nu uh!”

----------------------------------------------

Patton collapsed back onto the couch, groaning loudly. The tree was the only light in the darkened living room, the air still warm and smelling like the dinner they’d enjoyed hours ago. It was quiet again, his family gone back home. He’d missed them immensely, but he’d forgotten how loud they could be. His feet shifted on the floor, rustling the wrapping paper left over by his hurricane twin sisters; a mess he’d clean up tomorrow. Footsteps approached from down the hall, signalling his roommates arrival, and the speaker on the mantle started to quietly play “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”, Frank Sinatra’s soft voice drifting through the air.

“I’m so full,” He groaned again, resting his head on the back of the couch.

“Mood,” Virgil said, dropping next to him. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Virgil was just as tired as him. Tired, in the best way possible.

“You’re really good with kids,” Patton noted with a smile.

“Tell anyone and they’ll never find your body,” He deadpanned and Patton snorted, before he continued, “They’re the same age as my brother.”

“Oh,” He whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. I miss him. A lot. But this was the best Christmas I’ve probably ever had. No homophobic family members, no shouting matches, just… family. It was nice.”

“Hard to be homophobic when you have two moms,” Patton joked, relieved that Virgil snickered.

“Probably would be, yeah.”

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,

With every Christmas card I write,

May your days be merry and bright,

And may all your Christmas’ be white.

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit, relishing in the silence of the house. The tree sparkled, lighting up the blank walls in rainbow hues, their conglomerate mix of thrift store ornaments shifting and reflecting the light. People shouted outside, joyful noises, and kids laughed, their neighbors wrapping up their own holiday celebration.

Patton opened his eyes as he felt something placed on his lap, looking down in confusion before grinning.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot!”

Virgil smiled sheepishly, shifting his own box between his hands. “I put them into my room when your family showed up.”

“Smart move. The twins would have torn them open.” Patton dropped off the couch onto the floor, sitting cross legged and shaking with anticipation. With a laugh, Virgil joined him when he gestured to the floor in front of him. He reached up and took his keys from the mantle, slicing open the duct tape on his box before handing it to Patton to do the same.

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,

Like the ones I used to know,

Where the treetops glisten and children listen,

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

They opened their boxes in unison, Patton gasping when he saw the item in his. He pulled out the large, black fuzzy blanket, blue paw prints the size of Patton’s palm decorating the surface. A high pitched squeal burst from his lips as he squished the blanket to his chest, shoving his face in the soft fabric.

“Virgil, look! Isn’t it-”

His words caught in his throat at the expression on Virgil’s face; one of absolute shock. He was clutching his gift in white knuckles, and Patton’s mouth went dry when he caught the distinct black heart-beat-esque lines on the purple sweater.

“Oh,” Patton whispered, both of them frozen, looking at the gift they’d bought in the other’s arms. “Oh!”

“You’re my soulmate!” They both stated at the same time, breaking off into giggles.

“I guess so,” Virgil gasped, smiling as Patton pretty much leapt into his arms, trying to maneuver his hands around the other’s shoulders while still clutching the black blanket.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so relieved! You’re aro and I’m aro and it’s not going to be awkward with someone else, and I don’t have to explain and oh my gosh this is so fantastic!”

They both dissolved into another laughing fit, Virgil finally able to wind his arms around the other and pulling him closer. The end of the song slowly dwindled down as they both untangled themselves, unable to stop grinning. There was a moment of silence in the room as Virgil picked up a shrieking Patton and dropped him onto the couch, their sides sore from laughter, and essentially settled on top of him.

“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” filled the room with soft violin swings as the two fell into a blissful sleep, wrapped in their respective gifts, more at peace than they’d been in… who knows how long.

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts soulmate au #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssidesau

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

His Heaven

Request: Heyy I love your ABO fics and I have a request for you. You can always say no to this if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll completely understand and I’m very sorry. Can you do one with Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader. Where the reader is on a supply run and she gets assaulted and tortured by a monster and when she gets back to the bunker somehow, she only allows her Alpha anywhere near her and refuses help from anyone else. Dean takes care of her and helps her heal.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 2683

Warning: Kidnapping, injured!reader, ABO dynamics, smut, unprotected sex, talk tourchour, hints of a pinic attack, language, scenting, reclaiming, marking, mentions of assult, trauma induced by tourchur. I think that’s it. Sorry If I missed anything.

Beta’d by the amazing @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid! Also a big shout out to @deanwanddamons who is currently working on our 1k binge read! You both are awesome!

A/N: As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

**MASTERLIST**

Pulling at the restraints that were holding your arms above your head you curse yourself for not having seen this coming.

You knew that demon that escaped Dean and yourself in Kansas City would come back to bite you in the ass one day, you just didn’t think it would be this soon. Alas here you are, in a dark wet basement, tied to a pole in the center of the room with a variety of tortuous instruments that the damn thing had been using on you for the past two days strown randomly throughout the room on tables.

You knew that you were just bait, that you were nothing but a lure for Dean. The demon knew that your Alpha would stop at nothing to save you from this bastard, and you also knew that’s when the demon would try and kill him.

You couldn’t let that happen, you refused to let it happen. You’d die trying to get out of here before you let that happen.

Sure, Dean was your Alpha, and yes Dean was the one by nature and biology that protected you, but your biggest fear was Dean would get hurt protecting you.

Pulling on the restraints one more time you prayed with everything in you that by some miracle they would break.

Nothing.

Your arms, legs, and back were littered with little cuts, and gashes; courtesy of the demon that was holding you captive, and every movement seemed to sting in new places.

Letting your weight sag you notice that the rope holding you to your pole gave with your weight some, whereas it wasn’t earlier. So you pulled further and again, until soon more of the rope loosened, allowing you to pull your arms lower. A nail along the wall snagged the thick rope causing it frayed.

With two more heavy pulls the rope that had you bound finally broke free, and you fell to the floor with a thud.

Thanking Chuck that your capture seemed to have not heard you, you pulled yourself up from the floor using the table in front of you.

The room was dimly lit by the sun coming through a window that at one point had been painted, but was now started to fade, and allow little rays of light to filter through.

As quietly as you could, you climbed on top of the covered furnishings and lawn equipment that lay askew across the walls, and pulled at the window. To your great surprise, and relief it was open.

Hoisting yourself up on your injured forearms you pulled your battered body through the window, and onto the grass outside. Taking only a moment to see your surroundings in order to tell your Alpha where this bastard was hiding, you break for the tree line, and away from your personal hell that you’d been in for three days.

Dean wouldn’t have even known you were missing, he had been on a hunt in Ohio, Wendigo from the looks of it, and wasn’t due to be home until today. You had gone on a supply run so that you could make him his favorite pie when he got home. You knew your heat was coming, and it was somewhat of a tradition between the two of you for you to pamper him the full week before your heat hit, since he was going to spend the following days taking such good care of you.

Dean always insisted that it was unnecessary, and he enjoyed helping you through your heats, that he was there for you, but you still felt the need to pamper him, and he didn't fight you on it much.

You never would have guessed that the demon would have jumped you as soon as you got out of the car, before you were even able to get to the grocery store.

You also didn’t expect him to be so stupid as to not take your car keys from your pocket, and hide your car. Then again he probably wanted Dean to find it.

You thought you were okay, you made it back to your car, and into the Bunker garage without so much as batting an eye. You had been a hunter your whole life after all, and being kidnapped and torture just came with the territory, but as you put the car in park, and set back against your seat, a whole new feeling hit you all together.

Fear.

Shaking, you opened the door to your car, and almost fell out of it onto the concrete floor of the garage. Your breath was coming in short, sparaitic spurts, and your chest felt like it had a thousand pound weight on it, that was pressing harder and harder with each passing breath that pushed through your burning lungs.

You began to try and crawl your way into the bunker when you heard the door burst open, and Sam’s heavy footsteps coming towards you.

“Y/n?” he yelled upon seeing you laying on the floor, running towards you, yelling for Dean.

You knew that Sam would have died before he ever laid a hand on you to hurt you, but the demon that had trapped you had been an Alpha, and something in the strong Alpha scent that wasn’t your Alpha sent you reeling over the edge.

A deep growl rumbled in your chest, and you backed yourself against the back tire of Baby, baring your teeth at him like some wild animal, with every intent of it signaling to him if he tried to get to close or touch you, that you were prepared to go as far as ripping his arms off to protect yourself.

Cas and Dean came to a running stop right at the side of Sam, who was now backing up with his hands in the air.

Cas held his position, but Dean didn’t hesitate in dropping to his knees, and pulling you into his lap, his scent surrounding you and comforting you for the first time in days.

“What the fuck happed? Who did this to you?” Dean asks you, his teeth gritted and low growls falling from his chest.

You couldn’t answer him, your focus on Cas as he made his way over to you, before he could even kneel down to check your injuries a growl ripped through your body that even made your Alpha jump in surprise.

“Y/n, I can heal you if you let me.” Cas said calmly, but you were feeling anything but calm at the moment and wanted no one but you Alpha to touch you.

“No,” you growled through gritted teeth, and Dean pulled you closer to his chest, allowing you to bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent deeply.

“Baby girl, you have to tell us what happened.” Dean said, running his hands through your matted hair in an attempt to calm you as the tears you had been holding back all this time made their way to the surface.

“That demon from Kansas city jumped me as I got out of the car. He kept me trapped in the basement for days, a house just at the end of 11th street with a busted up white fence, Dean...I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left the bunker without you, I just wanted to..”

Dean shushed your rambling apology by pressing his lips to yours. A peace seeped through you in a rush of relief at the close contact.

Breaking the kiss,Dean turned to silently communicate to Sam what needed to be done. Sam in turn nodded and then got into your car with Cas, both of them going to rid the world of that asshole once and for all, and leaving you under the care of the only man you would let touch you.

Dean lefted the two of you with ease, making his way into the bunker and into the showers with you as if you weighed nothing at all. You kept your face buried in his neck the whole way, your body trembling with exhaustion, and pain as he made slow calculated movements so as to not jostle you around too much.

Dean sat you on the ground next to the bathtub, leaving you just long enough to start the water filling in the tub before coming to strip your filthy clothing from you, or what was left of it anyway.

You numbly let him do with you whatever he wanted. You had no fight, and you had no strength left in your body. All your fight had been used up to get back to your Alpha, and now that you were here, you had to trust him so he would protect you. You wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed, with your Alpha’s arms around you, where you knew you were safe.

Lifting you carefully off the floor, Dean laid you down in the bathtub that he’d filled with Epsom Salt to sterilize the wounds that covered your body, thankfully none of them were too deep, but you still hissed at the burn before letting the hot water relax your aching muscles.

Once Dean had you settled in the bath, he moved to strip himself of his own clothing, before setting in behind you, wrapping you in his arms, and cupping water over your hair as he washed away all the evidence of what was done to you aside from the cuts that littered your skin.

He took his time in silence, washing your hair, and making his way over your whole body with you in his hold.

Once he was done he got you both dried off and carried you to your shared bedroom, putting you down in your bed before retrieving one of his flannels to slip over you body, wrapping you up completely in his scent before he climbed in and pulled you into his embrace. His lips tracing over yours in a comforting, calming way that only he could.

“I failed you, Omega. This is my fault that this happened to you, if I would have killed that son of a bitch in Kansas City he would have never hurt you.”

Shaking your head furiously you place your lips to his as the first barely there cramp of your heat rolled through your body. Letting you know of the impending need that would surely be there by morning.

Dean scensed the change in your scent, and pulled you closer to him, nuzzling himself into your neck and breathing you in deeply.

“Dean, this was just as much my fault as it is yours. I know you don’t like me going on supply runs while you're not here, and I did it anyway against better judgement.”

Dean huffed, clearly kicking himself for not being here to protect you when you were captured.

“Either way, that bastard will be dead as soon as Cas and Sam get ahold of him, and then we will never have to worry about that again.”

The thought of the way you acted in the garage hit you, and you buried yourself impossibly deeper into Dean’s hold. Dean, sensing the change in you, lifted your chin a little with his finger, eyes searching yours.

“I will never let anything like that happen to you again, Omega, I swear it.”

You nibbled on your lip and nodded your head, allowing Dean to comfort and reassure you. Knowing that’s what you needed more than you wanted to admit.

“I’m sorry that I acted like that with Sam and Cas, I know they were just trying to help,” you mumbled against his throat as his hands instinctively wandered your body, pressing deeply into your back, and pulling you closer to his warm body as another mild cramp rolled through your abdomen.

“It’s okay baby, they understand.”

Dean’s fingers press into your hips, and pull you closer to him, his erection pressing into your thigh as he hoists your leg over his hips, pressing himself against your bare center.

“Right now I don’t want you to worry about none of that, that son of a bitch is as good as dead. He can’t hurt you again. You're safe here with me. Now let me make my baby girl feel better, I can sense your heat is close, and I want to make love to my girl one more time before it hits.”

You needed him, you knew you needed him. There was something special about an Alpha and his Omega. It was more than needed, it was deeper than heats and ruts, it surprised biology, it was that unexplainable bond. A bond that went beyond all reasoning and understanding, a bond that when connected could heal all wounds, mental and physical, it didn’t matter it was greater than that. It put together broken pieces, and made things that were once severed whole.

That’s what you needed more than anything right now, to feel whole.

Dean rutted his leaking cock through your rapidly soaking folds, your body reacting in a way only he seemed to be able to make it. The spongy tip created the most delicious friction against your aching bundle of nerves as he drove you higher and higher, grinding himself against you, layering you with his scent as his teeth grazed your mating gland, and over his mark, a shiver running down your spin, and landing deep in your core. Your velvet walls contracting around nothing as your hips start to roll with his on their own.

“Alpha, please, I need you.” you begged him, nails digging into his shoulders as he continued to tease you with his cock. Not giving you what you need, but giving you just enough to drive you crazy.

“I got you, Omega, I know what you need.” he purs as he breaches your entrance and with one full thrust seats himself deep inside of you. The stretch of him catching you by surprise, and stealing your breath form you as sheer pleasure rips through your body. Your mouth falling open in a soundless scream.

Dean’s hands slipped around your back and under his flannel as his lips make their way down your throat, giving you a moment to adjust to him before he started to rock his hips into you. Keeping himself buried deep in your wet heat. His knot forming quickly as the coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter with each roll of your hips with his, your bodies working together as his pelvis provided just the right amount of pressure against your aching clit.

Before you had time to even warn him you were coming undone in his lap. Your walls clamping down around him as your orgasm ripped through your body, a scream of his name falling from your lips as your release triggered his, his teeth sinking deep into your mating gland, reclaiming you as his own, and sealing your bond deeper than you ever thought possible, your walls milking his knot as his body locks with yours, and warm ropes of cum spill deep inside your womb.

Laying there locked together with your Alpha you let the peace that surrounded you lull you to a peaceful sleep. Dean watches over you, garding you, protecting you, like he would do until the day he died.

He made a promise to himself to never let anything hurt you again.

“Mine.” he mumbled into your hair, as you nuzzled into him in your peaceful slumber.

The life that you both lived almost guaranteed that one day one would be taken from the other, but right now, with you lying here in his arms, he was in heaven, and if his battered, torn soul never made it over there, he’d cherish these moments even in hell. This was all that he'd ever need, and he’d protect you with is life. He knew it would take a while to get you over this attack that you didn’t deserve, but he’d be there with you every step of the way until you were whole again.

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Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler

#dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean #omgea!reader #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha dean winchester omega x reader #abo #abo dynamics #dean winchetser fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #x reader inserts #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #jawritter

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6knotty6thotty6 · 3 years

Text

So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck:

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion.

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered, was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it.

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it."

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got.

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it.

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat.

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes.

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not.

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled.

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway.

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you?

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late!

#child abuse #abuse #domestic abuse #family #survivor #YouTube #bojack horseman #forgive #mom #mother #friend #friends #story #personal #chicken soup for the soul #free churro #monolouge #father #dad

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timebird84 · 3 years

Text

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @a-partofthenarrative

“Silver and Gold”

A/N This is a sequel to my 2018 Advent Calendar piece, “Evergreen”. It is not necessary to read that first, but it might be helpful as there are some references to that here. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. Happy Holidays, y’all!

Christine loved New York at Christmas.

The sights, the sounds, the smells…every moment of strolling through the city streets, block by block, had brought an exhilarating thrill that had been absent from her heart for far too many years. Even hours later, as she stood in the kitchen, elbow deep in pie dough, she had been unable to wipe the smile from her face.

Ms. Fleck had disappeared to somewhere or another at one point, claiming “errands” and leaving Christine to wander lower Manhattan for the better part of an hour. Weighed down by the variety of shopping bags, she had meandered uptown at a leisurely pace, stopping to admire the newly erected Christmas tree in Washington square before making her way up 5th Ave. to Herald Square, where she would find Ms. Fleck and Erik’s odd horseless contraption that had initially spirited her to Coney Island.

As she passed the stream of elaborate shops boasting anything any man, woman or children could ever desire, she lingered here and there, casting appreciative eyes to the elaborate window displays attracting crowds along the sidewalk. One particular window snagged her attention: a fanciful tower of toys teetering precariously on top of one another, held aloft in some miraculous defiance of gravity.

Biting back a smile, she stepped away with a silent resolution to return with Gustave. The poor boy would be positively beside himself when he saw the treasure trove in front of her.

She had located her shopping companion only moments later and, with confirmation from both parties that their feet and funds were exhausted, bags and passengers were located into the carriage for the trip home.

At least...she hoped it would become home. Goodness, but it did feel like home; this crazy, complicated family she had formed in a strange netherworld of curiosities. Upon returning to Erik’s home, it had been discovered that they had beaten “the boys” back to the residence, so with no tree to decorate, Christine had set her attention to another one of her favorite holiday pastimes.

Now, planted firmly in the large kitchen, covered in flour and holiday cheer, she rolled the stubborn dough into a thin sheet, a pie plate stuffed full of apples set to the side patiently waiting for its cover. Satisfied with her work, her fingers had just curled around the edge of the thin sheet when a commotion drew her attention to the front of the house. Brow furrowed, she wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen to investigate.

Ms. Fleck was already present and Christine cast her a questioning look before another shout snapped her eyes to the foyer.

Dr. Gangle stood just inside the door, the sole member of the group lucky enough to claim the prime position out of the cold, although one’s definition of luck would depend on one’s opinion. The poor man’s arms were wrapped around the top of one of the largest evergreen trees she had ever seen, this one seemingly dwarfing the childhood giant she had described to Erik only hours before. No doubt this had been Gustave’s doing. As his father before him, her son had a tendency to want to “one-up” anyone or anything that he deemed worthy of bragging rights and she bit back a chuckle despite herself. Maybe it was time her beloved masked enigma had a taste of his own medicine; the fact that it was delivered by his own progeny was turning out to be a delightful twist of Fate.

Shouts echoed from beyond the door, phasing in and out in a cacophony of chaos as the tree twisted and turned in a macabre dance in attempts to be pushed over the threshold.

“Left! Move it to the left!....No, the OTHER left!”

“That IS left! Watch it! You’re going to take the paint clean off the frame!”

“Gangle! Squelch! If either one of you idiots scratches the paint, you’ll be repairing it yourselves with Ms. Fleck’s mascara brush!”

Both women watched in stunned silence at the tenuous exchange before Christine glanced down, brow furrowed and voice weary. “Goodness, but it sounds like they’re having some trouble, doesn’t it?”

The smaller woman shrugged. “Frankly, I’m impressed that the Master knows what a mascara brush is.”

Christine blinked, unable to answer before the tree moved just so, allowing a small blur through the doorway and straight into her skirts. “Maman!” Gustave beamed up at her, thick snow caked in the hair along his brow. “Look at the tree we found! Isn’t it wonderful? I think it’s even bigger than yours!”

“It is..something!” she exclaimed brightly, hunkering down to look him in the eyes. “What happened, cherie? You look as though you’ve been caught in a snowstorm.”

Gustave pulled off his hat and swiped a carelessly palm over his hairline, sending clumps of snow to the wooden floor. “We had the best time! Dr. Gangel and mr. Squelch had a hard time cutting down the tree, so Mr. Y stepped in to help them. Well, the three of them began to argue over which way was the best way and while they were yelling at each other, the tree started to creak and then fell- right toward the sleigh!”

Christine gasped, feeling slightly “Oh no…”

“Oh yes!” The boy chattered on, seemingly oblivious to the picture he was painting. “That seemed to get their attention and then they ran toward the sleight. I didn’t get to see much after that because Mr. Y grabbed me, but we ended up in the snow. You should see him, Mama! He looks so funny!”

“Gustave, do you realize any of you could have been hurt or worse?! Mr. Y likely saved your life!”

Gustave rolled his eyes in a fashion so similar to Erik that Christine’s breath caught. “Maman, I’m fine. The tree didn’t even land anywhere near us.” His little brow furrowed as he glanced at the tree in the doorway, a frustrated Dr. Gangle staring at its branches with open disdain. “Do you think we’ll be able to get it inside?”

“I..don’t know, love. I’m sure Mr. Y and the others are doing everything they can.”

More grunts and shouts caused mother and son to glance up and Christine quickly snatched Gustave and stepped back as the tree hurtled forward, succumbing to a final desperate push from Squelch and Gangle. With one hand planted firmly on her son and the other pressed to her chest, she watched wide-eyed as the men muscled the enormous evergreen deeper into the house, and a masked figure stumble in behind them, shutting the door with an echoing bang and slumping against it with a weary sigh.

This man looked nothing like the impeccable figure she had always known. Instead, the man before her was a disheveled mess; wilted against the doorway, chest heaving, hair caked with snow, overcoat askew and one glove and his cravat missing (although really, who wore full evening dress to trek through the woods?).

With a quiet word and a promise to reconvene soon, Christine sent Gustave upstairs with Ms. Fleck to clean up before pasting a sympathetic smile on her lips and moving to his side. “Oh, my poor Erik,” she soothed, taking his gloveless hand in hers. “Something tells me today did not go exactly as planned.”

He cracked one eye open at the sound of her voice. “Christine…” Even his voice was exhausted. “Never again…”

“But Gustave is happy, Erik. You did well.”

“...and nearly killed us both in the process.”

“Yes, well, he did mention that,” she muttered. “But thankfully no one was killed or maimed and the tree was delivered successfully…”

Both eyes opened to regard her now and she only sighed and smoothed a hand over his snow-wet face. “I am nearly done with an apple pie. I meant it to be a surprise, but given the circumstances…” She chuckled at the faint light that came to his gaze at the mention of his favorite dessert, another newly discovered similarity to their son. “Go and clean up while I finish and then we’ll all decorate our new tree together.”

This brought another groan as Erik let his head fall back against the door with a thump. “Christine, I have a bountiful staff. This is what they are paid for.”

“Not this year.” she countered. “Besides, decorating is the most fun of all. I’ve already laid out the popcorn to be strung and I picked out some lovely ornaments in the City today.”

“The City? Christine, you went to Manhattan alone?!?”

“Of course not, Erik. Ms. Fleck accompanied me” She squeezed his hand. “Now up you go.”

“But Christine!”

She met him eye for eye. “Don’t! I am a grown woman. We were perfectly safe. Now go upstairs, change into some fresh clothes and decorate the Christmas tree with your son.” Stepping back, she helped him to his feet, smoothing her hands down the sleeves of his overcoat and pressing a kiss to his frozen lips. “I shall join you as soon as I get this pie in the oven.”

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

Nearly an hour later, the pie covered and browning nicely, Christine untied her apron, let down her hair and migrated to the living room where the festivities already appeared to be happening in full swing.

The tree now stood in the place of honor in the front corner of the room, beautifully centered in front of the large bay window, creating a lovely visual for anyone who happened to pass along the street. Dr. Gangle, Squelch and Ms. Fleck had taken up positions nearby, sorting through the packages and parcels from their shopping excursion, taking turns to comment on the contents of each.

Muttering from the back corner turned her attention to Erik and Gustave, both dressed in fresh shirtsleeves, waistcoats and trousers, and seated side-by-side on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them. Gustave was attempting to teach his father to string the snack food to create a festive garland that would be just perfect. Erik, bless his heart, listened indulgently as he tried to copy Gustave’s motions. Unfortunately, while the former Opera Ghost was a master of innumerable things, the muttered curses and muffled cries of pain indicated that the needle was making better progress connecting with skin rather than kernels.

The rustling of skirts announced her presence to the room and Erik immediately set the string and bowl aside as he stood to greet her. “Ah, there you are, Christine. Would you care to ah...take over the garland crafting?”

Biting back a smile at his attempts to cover his inadequate stringing skills, she gave him an impish grin as she drew near. “And deprive you of the experience? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“It’s all right, Maman,” Gustave commented, never taking his eyes from his work. “He’s not very good at it.”

Erik’s gaze snapped to hers as if to say There! You see? but she quickly and quietly tempered it with one of her own. “Not everyone excels at the same things, Gustave. But if there is one thing I know about Mr. Y, it is that he has quite the eye for making beautiful things.”

“Except popcorn garland,” Gustave supplied.

Erik’s expression was positively indignant as she worked to suppress the quirk of her lips. “So it would seem.”

“We’ve got all of the ornaments arranged for you when you’re ready, Boss,” Squelch announced, waving a hand over the various boxes of colored bulbs laid out beside the tree. “Ms. Christine picked up quite the selection.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, all.” Erik managed, taking Christine’s hand as they approached the tree. “Shall be begin?”

The three glanced between themselves, then back at the Master and his lady. “You want us to help?”

“Of course!” Christine smiled, “besides, none of this would have been possible without you.”

No further permission was needed by any of the parties. Gustave, finished with his popcorn garland, wound it around the tree, accepting assistance from Erik and Dr. Gangle at different points depending on height and availability. Christine, Squelch and Ms. Fleck declared themselves in charge of the myriad colors of ornaments and directed where and what were hung until the tree was transformed from a blank green palette to a wonder of color and light.

One of the most important purchases for Christine had been a set of candles for Advent. “This was one of my favorite traditions growing up,” she remarked as she struck a match. “With all of the traveling my father and I did, there were many of our traditions that we were forced to forego, but he always made certain we had a set of candles for Advent.” With a radiant smile, she lit their first candle, relishing in the pop and crack of the wick catching fire. “This one represents hope.”

“The second represents faith,” Passing the match to Gustave, she helped him light the second candle before offering it to the masked man standing at her side. Wordlessly, he accepted it, his expression unreadable as he set the match to the wick and the third candle spring to life. “And the third,” she supplied, meeting Erik’s gaze over the flickering flame, “is for joy.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips then and her heart squeezed a bit tighter in her chest.

“What about the other candles?” Gustave asked.

Christine blew out the match and smiled down at him. “Traditionally, there are four Sundays in Advent and each week one more candle is lit. The fifth is lit on Christmas Eve. We’ve started a bit late this year, as it’s nearly Christmas, but all will be lit as the season progresses.”

Gustave studied the candles, then glanced at her “Did mofar teach you any other traditions that we can have here?”

“Oh, cheri, so many! Although, we rarely had the chance to partake in any of them given that we were never in Sweden much after my fifth birthday. The legend of St. Lucia, julbord, julklapper.” She brightened. “I may be able to make julmust for Christmas Eve if I can find the proper ingredients. That is, if you don’t mind, Erik?”

Slipping an arm around her waist, he remarked. “I want to know everything that is important to you, ange. If it makes you and Gustave happy, then consider it done.”

The boy’s attention shifted to him then. “What about you, Mr. Y? Did you have any traditions growing up?”

Erik’s panicked eyes immediately shot to her and Christine smoothly took control of the conversation. “Gustave, I’m sure Mr. Y knows many of the same holiday traditions that you do.”

“But he’s never even had a Christmas tree before…”

“And there were many years where I did not either. Like myself, Mr. Y has spent a great deal of his life traveling, haven't you, Erik?”

“I have,” the masked man confirmed, but offered no further explanation.

Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy the boy for the moment. “So... we’re blending. Maman’s traditions with Mr. Y’s?”

Christine glanced at Erik, who looked as lost as she felt. “Er…”

“In a sense, I suppose,” Erik supplied. “But perhaps it is more accurate to say that we are starting our own traditions. As a..” he trailed off suddenly, his normally stoic face slipping into something akin to sudden wonder.

“As a family?” Gustave ventured.

“Yes, my love,” Christine whispered, fingers covertly creeping into Erik’s palm as he held her hand like a lifeline. “Exactly that.” Drawing him close to her side, she bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve had an exciting day and according to that clock in the hall, it is much past your bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone and I’ll be up in a moment.”

“Ah, actually, Christine, may I speak with you for a moment?” Erik cut in.

“Come on, little master,” Ms. Fleck said with a wink, catching Erik’s eye. “If you can get your nightclothes on, I’ll read you a story before your mama comes to tuck you in.”

Gustave broke into a grin, pecking Christine on the cheek before dashing for the stairs. Christine watched him go with a loving smile before tipping her head back to smile up at the man stationed behind her. “Look at how happy he is, Erik. You gave him one of the best days, despite all of the trials that came with it. That boy worships the ground you walk on.”

“I care for him in a way that I never knew I was capable of,” he admitted, tucking her hand in his arm and turning to the tree. “I would move heaven and earth for that boy.”

“Welcome to parenthood, my love,” she whispered.

With a sigh, Erik moved to stand before her, cloaked in the colors cast by the candles flames against the glass ornaments of the tree. “Christine, I admit I’ve been struggling when it comes to you and Gustave. I am not proud of it, but you must understand that I spent the majority of my life in utter solitude. Even in our...early acquaintance, the very notion that someone would care for me, let alone that I would one day have a son of my own…. was laughable.

“Both of us know how the last story ended and quite frankly, as far as I was concerned, that was the end,” He shook his head, glancing down to the floor. “But then our paths converged again, ten years later with the knowledge of Gustave...and almost losing you again...it awoke something in me, Christine. Something that made me realize that I never want to feel that way again.

“You, my darling, are the only thing that matters to me. You and Gustave and, if it is agreeable to you, you would make me innumerably happy if you would remain in Coney Island.”

Her breath caught as the weight of what he was asking began to sink in. “Erik, are you…?

He gripped her hands tighter, gaze steady, but pleading. “Stay with me, Christine. Be my wife. Let’s give Gustave the family we should have been from the beginning.”

‘Erik…” she whispered, leaning her forehead into his chest as tears flooded her eyes. “Truly?”

In response, he pulled a box from his vest pocket, flipping it open to reveal a diamond solitaire. On one side, a band of gold, warm and radiant, linked a band of silver on the other, cool but elegant, joining in metallic harmony to cradle the diamond that winked up at her.

“Oh, Erik…” she breathed again, “it’s stunning”

“I know the tradition is bended knee, but I seem to have had a traumatic incident with a rather aggressive evergreen,” he replied dryly, “so I hope you’ll forgive...”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you. We shall stay.” Christine beamed up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “With all of my heart, I love you, you stubborn boar. The answer is ‘yes’.” Curling her fingers around the edges of his waistcoat she pulled him forward in a flash of motion and kissed him thoroughly in front of said evergreen tree.

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers broke the spell a moment later and the couple turned to see Gustave, Ms. Fleck, Dr. Gangle and Squelch positively glowing at them from the stairs. “Way to go, Boss!”

“Yes, well...” Erik sputtered, looking to Christine for assistance. She only chuckled, kissed him deeply again and extended her left hand, to which he responded by obediently sliding the ring on her finger.

Gustave rushed down the stairs to embrace them both, begging to see his mother’s ring, then beaming up at Erik as if he had just been handed the world on a plate. “Does this mean I can call you ‘Father’ now?”

Christine’s breath caught as her brown eyes collided with Erik’s mismatched ones, which looked slightly watery again. She watched as his throat bobbed, silently struggling for control before managing an answer. “Of course, my boy. You may call me whatever you wish,” he said, stooping down to look the boy in the eye. “You are my son and I am sorry if I’ve done anything to make you feel as though I’ve held you at arm’s length. I..love you, Gustave. I always have.”

Christine pressed her hands to her mouth, tears flowing anew as the boy’s mouth trembled and he launched himself into the arms of the masked man whom he had come to idolize. Erik caught him, holding him in an awkward embrace as he met Christine’s teary smile, unbidden moisture already beginning to track down his visible cheek.

Erik stood, bringing Gustave with him and Christine moved forward to join the embrace. As Erik’s free arm came around her and Gustave’s little hand held tight to hers, she was sure her heart would burst.

Her father used to say that a broken, battered path often led to the most beautiful destination and as she stood in the embrace of the two men she loved most in the world, bathed in the silver and gold glow of the candles and Christmas lights, she knew that she was finally home.

With a family of her own making.

As it always should have been.

Eyes slipping closed, her fingers languidly trailed up and down Erik’s spine and smiled as the large hand at her waist squeezed her imperceptibly closer.

From this day forward, as it always would be.

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 15

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?

Author: @juxtaposie

Prompt: Everlark as kids on Halloween [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Rating: T for described violence in a movie, but nothing worse than the books

Summary: Katniss doesn’t want to dress up; she doesn’t want to go to the party; she doesn’t want to watch a scary movie.

And she definitely doesn’t care if Peeta is there.

Author’s Note: This is technically my first foray into Everlark, though not into HG. Many thanks to @mandelion82 for being my point person, @eiramrelyat for keeping me on schedule, and @jroseley for proofread!

____________

Katniss didn’t like to be bothered during the lunch period, and that was precisely why Madge Undersee was the perfect companion. The other girls in their grade liked to call Madge an ice queen behind her back and say things about how she was spoiled and stuck-up, but Katniss knew that was just gossip. There was nothing stuck-up about Madge, even though she was the mayor’s daughter. She was just quiet, studious, and a little shy.

She was also a good friend - the only friend Katniss had, really, even if all they ever did was eat lunch together. She didn’t ask questions, or pry, and only ever wanted to talk about school, and that was just fine with Katniss.

Delly Cartright, one grade ahead of them, was the exact opposite of Madge, and it was hard for Katniss not to hold it against her. There was nothing wrong with Delly; she was friendly, and very loud, with a wide smile that lit up her otherwise plain face, but she was also nosy in a harmless sort of way that set Katniss’ teeth on edge.

And she was currently winding her way through the cafeteria, handing out fliers.

“She’s coming over here,” Madge muttered, and Katniss groaned around her bite of dry baloney sandwich.

“Hey!” Delly said brightly, shoving a flier under Katniss’ nose and shaking it until she took it. “It sucks that Halloween is on a Tuesday this year, so my parents said I could have a party! We’ll have candy, and bobbing for apples, and my dad’s even building a haunted house in the shed! You have to come!”

Surveying the flier, Katniss sighed a little in relief. The party was on Saturday. “I can’t,” she said, feigning a sadness she didn’t really feel. “I have to watch my sister. Sorry.”

“Oh that’s okay,” Delly chirped, shoving the flier back at her when Katniss tried to return it. “My little brother is having friends over too. Just bring her! Madge?”

Madge met Katniss’ eye across the table, the corner of her mouth quirking up in an expression that was almost a smile.

“Sure,” Madge said, folding the flier and sticking it into her binder. “Sounds fun.”

Delly beamed. “Great! Oh, and there’s gonna be a costume contest so dress to impress!”

Then she was gone, her blonde pigtails trailing behind her as she all but skipped to the next table.

“Why are you making that face?” Madge asked when Delly was out of earshot. “It’ll be fun. Probably.”

But Katniss wasn’t really listening, because two tables over Delly was handing a flier to Peeta Mellark.

Katniss could only see the back of his head, but she would have known it anywhere - she’d only been staring at it the last two years, ever since the last (and only) time they’d ever spoken, that cold winter morning in the alley behind the bakery. He’d cut his hair short when school had started, but it had grown out so much it almost touched his collar and curled in ringlets around his ears.

“I bet Peeta will be there,” Madge said, startling Katniss out of her unscheduled jaunt down memory lane.

Katniss took an angry bite of her sandwich. “What do I care if Peeta will be there?” she mumbled as she chewed.

Madge just shrugged. “I mean you’re always staring at him.”

“No I’m not!” Katniss snapped.

“Whatever you say,” Madge placated, turning her attention back to the book she’d been reading before Delly had approached them.

Katniss didn’t reply, and she was grateful when Madge seemed to drop the subject. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss the complicated and very alien feelings Peeta had been inspiring in her of late.

“I mean it’s fine,” Madge said after a protracted silence. “He’s cute. And he’s nice. A lot nicer than the other boys in our class.”

There was movement over Madge’s shoulder, a flash of blue eyes and bouncing blonde curls, but by the time Katniss had registered it Peeta had turned back around in his seat. All she could do was stare at the back of his head, and wonder what he’d been looking at - if he’d been looking at her.

Madge seemed to take her silence as agreement, and they finished their lunch in peace

***

That Saturday evening, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom she shared with Prim, Katniss couldn’t help feeling like the whole evening was a bad idea. She didn’t like crowds, she definitely didn’t like parties, and she’d felt too old for Halloween since her dad had died. She felt silly and childish, even in her simple black dress, and she knew that feeling would only be magnified by the pointed black hat sitting in the counter beside the sink.

Costumes were stupid. Halloween was stupid.

With a deeply unhappy sigh, she snatched the hat off the counter and turned out the light.

Downstairs, Prim was sitting on the kitchen table while their Uncle’s girlfriend finished applying rhinestone stickers around her eyes.

“Katniss, sweetie, are you sure I can’t help you with your makeup?” Effie asked as she pressed another rhinestone to the corner of Prim’s left eye.

“Yes,” Katniss answered sharply, annoyed at having to answer the same question for what felt like the millionth time. Across the room Haymitch cleared his throat, and she added, “I’m fine, thanks,” a little more gently. She didn’t dislike the woman, exactly, but Effie was a busybody of the highest order and Katniss sometimes felt like she couldn’t take a breath without Effie asking her about the air quality on her side of the room.

Prim enjoyed her, though. It was obvious to Katniss that her sister missed their mother, and even if she didn’t feel the same way she could understand why Prim would be happy to have another woman doting on her. That that woman was Effie didn’t seem to bother Prim in the least.

“C’mere a second, kid,” Haymitch said, nodding toward the foyer. “I wanna talk to you.”

Katniss followed him, feeling surly, and stared at her shoes - new chucks, no holes in the toes, soles still attached - while Haymitch looked at her with his arms crossed.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” he said finally. Katniss spread the skirt of her dress out as if to say, Well duh, but Haymitch sighed and continued, “Not the costume. Costume’s pretty cute, actually. I meant your face. You know you don’t have to go just because someone invited you.”

“Prim’s excited,” she replied, only realizing she’d said the wrong thing when Haymitch started rubbing his forehead like he had a headache and looking at her like he could see right into her soul.

This was the thing Katniss hated about living with her Uncle Haymicth - though he wasn’t her uncle, or even blood exactly, no matter if Katniss had gotten so used to Prim pretending that she’d started doing it herself. He was their dad’s second cousin; they’d shared the same grandmother and spent the same childhood together running wild through the forests of the Allegheny Mountains. That was all Katniss had known about him as a small child, and it wasn’t until she got older that she’d picked up the rest of the gossip from neighbors - that the same accident that killed his family had also made him rich, and that he’d wasted a good chunk of that change trying to drown himself in drink.

He hadn’t looked good at the funeral, but he’d spent hours talking with their mother, and a few months later she’d sent the girls to live with him - and not in his crummy, run-down apartment over the local bar, but in a refurbished bungalow situated neatly between two other refurbished bungalows on a wide, shady street where the trees grew taller than the houses. It turned out that chunk of change was considerably larger than most people knew.

He’d even stopped drinking, as far as Katniss could tell, or at least that was the excuse he always gave the girls for his terrible moods.

The fact that he seemed to understand her better than even her own father ever had was both a blessing and a curse. She didn’t always have to say what she was thinking, and he didn’t let Effie badger her too much, but it also meant he wouldn’t “let her bullshit slide”, as he liked to put it when they butted heads - which was frequently.

“Prim’s old enough to go to a party on her own,” he said after a long silence. “She’s more than old enough.”

Katniss couldn’t keep herself from frowning. “She’s only ten.”

“Yeah,” Haymitch said with a sharp laugh. “Almost as old as you were when you came to live with me. Plenty old enough.”

“I wanna go,” Katniss insisted, forcing a smile onto her face and praying Haymitch wouldn’t see through it.

It didn’t work, of course. She could tell by the way Haymitch was shaking his head at her. “All right, sweetheart” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “It’s your Saturday night, you can do whatever you want with it.”

“I wanna go,” she repeated. “My friends will be there.”

“You have friends now?” Haymitch teased. Dropping an arm around her shoulders, he steered her back toward the kitchen. “I suppose we wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.”

“What’s jeopardize mean?” Prim asked from where she was still sitting on the table.

“To put in danger,” Effie offered before announcing, “All done!”

Prim hopped off the table and struck a pose, bowing when Katniss applauded politely.

“Tell me one more time what you are?” Haymitch asked, taking a seat at the table and dragging Effie toward him with an arm around her waist.

“A unicorn surgeon!” Prim exclaimed, turning in a circle to show off her costume, which was a white leotard under child-sized scrubs, a face mask, and a felt hood in the shape of a horse’s head, with the horn protruding through the surgeon’s cap holding back a mane of rainbow yarn. A rainbow yarn tail had been pinned to the back of her scrubs, and rainbow rhinestones rimmed her big, blue eyes.

“Is that a surgeon for unicorns, or a surgeon… unicorn?” Haymitch asked.

“The second one,” Prim said. “Are we ready to go?”

“Oh!” Effie exclaimed, clapping her hands together and turning to Katniss. “One more thing. I have something for you, darling. Now I know you said you didn’t need anything, but I just thought you could use a little bit of color. Close your eyes and let me help you with this, and if you don’t like it we’ll just take it right off!”

Katniss felt her hackles raise as Effie pulled away from Haymitch and approached her with a black plastic bag. She was just about to say, ‘No, thank you,’ when Haymitch nudged her foot with his own and gave her a look that clearly said, Be nice.

So Katniss said, “Okay,” and closed her eyes.

Effie directed her to hold her arms out at her sides, and tied something around her waist before pinning something to her hat, then she turned Katniss around and guided her to the mirror hanging in the hallway before announcing, “Open your eyes!”

Katniss had to applaud Effie for her restraint. All she’d done was tie an orange sash around Katniss’ waist and pin a large orange flower to the side of her hat. The shade of the sash was not the bright, garish orange of the season, but a soft, muted color. It was simple, almost understated, but it did perk up her costume and add an air of festivity that had been lacking. Against her will, Katniss found herself smiling.

“I knew you’d like it,” Effie said when she saw Katniss smiling. “Orange looks so good with your skintone.”

“Let’s go!” Prim enthused, running into the hallway to grab her coat off the hooks by the door. “It’s almost six!”

“No such thing as fashionably late in middle school, I suppose,” Effie murmured as she helped Prim.

“Here,” Haymitch said, joining them in the foyer and shoving a $20 bill at Katniss. “Just in case.”

“It’s four blocks away,” Katniss said as she tucked the money into her shoe.

“Just in case,” Haymiucth said again as he handed her her coat.

“Call when you get there,” Effie reminded them as Katniss herded her sister out the door. “Have fun. Be good guests!”

Never in her life had anyone told Katniss to be a good guest, but she just said, “We will,” and took Prim’s hand to pull her down the front steps and out onto the sidewalk.

The air was crisp and chilly, and Prim skipped along beside Katniss as the girls hurried along.

“Haymitch is right,” Prim said as they crossed the street at the end of the block. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop,” Katniss replied.

Prim just laughed. “Okay, Effie.”

“I want to go,” Katniss insisted. “I just…”

“Don’t like parties?” Prim offered. “Or people?”

Katniss made a noise of protest. “I like people.”

“Like three people,” Prim allowed. “Maybe four, when you’re in a good mood. Is Madge gonna be there?”

“I think so,” Katniss answered.

“Gale?”

Gale Hawthorn, her best friend for all intents and purposes, had started high school that year. As a result, they’d seen even less of each other than usual. Gale still lived in the run-down part of town where Katniss and Prim had grown up, and while he maintained he didn’t hold her moving away against her, he didn’t often act like it.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “What would a high schooler want with a middle schooler’s Halloween party?”

“You’ll be there,” Prim said, and Katniss didn’t like that implication. Gale had been acting a little weird recently, but she’d chalked it up to high school stuff. “What about Peeta?”

The casual query almost gave Katniss whiplash. “What about Peeta?”

“Do you think he’ll be there?” Prim pressed, closing her mouth tightly in a way Katniss knew meant she was trying to keep a smile off her face.

“How should I know?” Katniss said sharply.

Prim laughed, and linked her arm through Katniss’. “Don’t get mad. I’m just asking.”

Katniss tried not to grimace. “I’m not mad. I just don’t know why you think I’d know.”

And she wasn’t mad, not really. She just didn’t understand why everyone was suddenly asking her about Peeta - she thought she’d been more careful than that.

The Cartwright’s lived just a few blocks away, and it didn’t take the sisters long to reach their house. When Katniss went to knock on the door it swung open under her fist and they could hear the sounds of screaming children before they’d even stepped inside!

“The Everdeen girls!” Mrs. Cartwright exclaimed, bustling them into the high-ceilinged entryway. There was clearly an adult party going on in the rooms behind her. “Prim, the littler kids are out in the backyard. They’ve got some games going, and there’s cider and snacks out there. Delly’s down in the basement, Katniss, with pizza and pop. There’s more food in the dining room if you get hungry, and if you need anything at all come find me or Mr. Cartwright, or one of the waiters. Have fun!”

Then before Katniss could ask where the basement door was she left just as quickly as she’d come, disappearing into the crowd of costumed adults, her Marie Antionette costume swishing behind her.

“How does she know our names?” Prim asked, but all Katniss could do was shrug.

They stood for awhile, each turning in a circle to take in the grand house around them. Katniss thought the house she and Prim lived in now was much too nice, but this house easily put it to shame.

“Okay, little duck,” Katniss said, but that was as far as she got before Prim’s hurried, “Bye!” stopped her in her tracks, and she watched helplessly as her sister all but abandoned her, leaving her standing in the entryway alone.

With a sigh, she set out to find the basement door.

It didn’t take long. She could feel the noise coming up from the basement through the soles of her shoes, and she followed the noise to a door in the kitchen. That door led to stairs, and those stairs led down into a large finished room that contained every kid her age that Katniss knew, and many she didn’t. The space was hot, dark, and crowded; all the regular light bulbs had been replaced with novelty light bulbs that glowed red and purple, and she could barely see the food table through the kids standing around it. At the other end of the basement was the biggest TV she’d ever seen.

“Katniss!” Delly called, somehow spotting her through the crowd from her place on the couch. “Come sit down! We just started the movie.”

“Um,” Katniss replied, conscious of the fact that almost everyone in the basement was now looking at her. “Okay.”

“Grab a drink!” Delly replied before twisting back around in her seat to face the TV.

Pouring herself a generous helping of coke into a red solo cup, she snatched up a cheesy breadstick as she walked by and then picked her way through her classmates who hadn’t been lucky enough to snag a seat on the couch and were sitting on the floor.

Madge waved at her from her spot near Delly’s feet, but Katniss’ eyes caught and held on the boy sitting beside Delly on the couch. Big blue eyes stared back at her out of the scariest, most life-like skeleton face she had ever seen.

“Hi Katniss,” Peeta said, giving her a small wave. “Do you want my seat?”

People were staring again, but then someone in a chair behind the couch shouted, “Down in front!” startling Katniss into replying with a short, sharp, “No.”

Maybe she’d only imagined the way Peeta’s face had fallen, but as she took a seat on the floor beside Madge she was hyperaware of him. The space was so crowded she had to sit up straight or risk resting her back against his legs. She swore she could feel the heat coming off him.

Beside her, Madge whispered, “Thanks for sitting with me. Hold my hand?”

“What?” katniss demanded. “Why?”

“I’m pretty sure Drew Barrymore is about to die.”

Panic squeezed Katniss’ heart as she grabbed Madge’s hand. “What?”

“We’re watching Scream,” Delly said excitedly, leaning over between Katniss and Madge. “Have you seen it?”

Katniss shook her head mutely. She’d never seen any horror movie.

“Good,” Delly said with glee.

Madge was right, as it turned out. Drew Barrymore did die, though Katniss didn’t see what happened, as she was hiding her eyes behind her free hand while Madge did her best to crush the bones in the other, and it only got worse from there. The tension in the room seemed to ratchet up several notches every time the creeper in the mask jumped out to terrorize Sydney Prescott, boys and girls alike screaming and jumping out of their seats. At one point Peeta all but kicked her in the back.

The room was too hot. Katniss was sweating under her dress, and every time Madge jumped coke sloshed out of Katniss’ cup and into her lap. Her chest felt tight, and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Even with her eyes shut, she could hear the wet squelch of someone being stabbed, and her stomach turned when her mind couldn’t help supplying her images.

She felt so stupid when she started thinking of her dad, dead two years now in a mining accident. Was it hot and caustic when he died, people panicking as they pressed against him, screaming for daylight and fresh air? Were there emergency lights shining red, pushing back the edges of black, or had they lost power in the same explosion that had severed the cables of the car on the hoist? How many had survived that explosion? How many had waited in the darkness to die?

On the TV, Matthew Lillard pulled a man, bound and gagged, out of the basement. Sydney said, “Daddy!” her voice high and breathless, and Katniss couldn’t take it anymore.

She twisted in her seat, pulling her hand from Madge’s, and before she could think about it she barrelled through an opening on the couch, climbing over the back as fast as her shaking legs could carry her. Luckily she didn’t have to push past anybody - everyone was staring again, and they moved out of her way, leaving a clear path to the stairs, which she climbed two at a time until she was in the bright, fluorescent light of the kitchen.

But it wasn’t enough. The kitchen was still too warm, and now the adults were staring at her, some with concern but most with the quiet disdain the rich showed to ill-behaved children, and Katniss found herself bolting back the way she’d come, out into the entryway and through the front door-

-where she ran right into Peeta, who’d been sitting on the steps but had stood up when he’d heard her coming. His arms came up around her as they tumbled down the steps, landing in a tangle of arms and legs on the brick sidewalk. The only reason Peeta didn’t smack his head was because Katniss’ elbow cushioned the blow. Pain spiraled up her arm, radiating out from the place where his head rested in the crook of her elbow, but Peeta was already sitting up.

“Jeez,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Warn a guy, maybe?” He grabbed her shoulders, helping her to sit up, and asked, “Are you okay?”

This kindness was her breaking point. Horrified, she put her hands over her face and tried to quell the sudden rush of tears, but it was no use. She took a haggard breath, and then she was sobbing on the sidewalk, tears running down her face to drip off her chin and leave dark splotches on the skirt of her dress.

Peeta didn’t seem to know what to do. He patted her shoulder awkwardly and murmured something that was probably supposed to be soothing, but that only made her cry harder.

She hadn’t thought of her dad in months. She’d thought she was past the wild, unprovoked sobbing phase of grieving. Never mind that Halloween had been his favorite holiday, that he’d loved costumes and taking his girls trick-or-treating, that last year she’d been so sad she’d stayed in bed the whole day.

Two years was plenty of time to get over it.

Why couldn’t she just get over it?

“Here,” Peeta said, grasping her by the shoulders and helping her to stand. “Sit down.”

He disappeared into the house while Katniss tried to get her crying under control, and she’d all but managed it by the time he returned. He handed her a plastic cup filled to the brim with ice water, and a small stack of napkins.

“Thank you,” she said reflexively.

“It’s okay,” Peeta said, sitting down beside her. “I don’t like scary movies either.”

“It’s not the movie!” And it wasn’t the movie. The movie was stupid. She couldn’t care less about the movie. “There were too many people, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about my dad! The way he died - we didn’t even have a body to bury!”

She broke down again, horrified at the words coming out of her mouth. She’d never talked about her dad, not to anyone. Not to Prim or Haymitch, not to the counselor at school she’d seen once a week for an entire month. Now here she was, spewing her deepest fears to the one person she didn’t want looking too closely at her, because she knew if he did, he wouldn’t like what he saw. And then he’d stop looking altogether.

“I’m sorry,” he said, obviously at a loss. “That’s really awful.”

Then he did something Katniss wasn’t expecting, something she hadn’t even known she’d needed: he sat quietly beside her and let her cry. He didn’t try to touch her, or offer empty words, just waited with her until the tears subsided and her breath came a little easier.

Only once her grief subsided shame crept in to take its place. She couldn’t believe she’d cried in front of Peeta.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” she asked, trying to cover up her own discomfort.

“I told you,” he said. “I don’t like scary movies.”

“I don’t know many boys who would admit that,” she said, glancing at him through the veil of her wet eyelashes.

Peeta smiled a little. “I don’t care who knows. Anyway, it paid off today.”

“You’d rather watch me cry?” she asked, uncrumpling the napkins in her lap.

“Not the crying part.” Peeta bumped her shoulder gently with his own. “But watching you…”

She couldn’t help the laugh that jumped out of her mouth. “That’s weird.

She kept laughing while Peeta sputtered, “No, I - I didn’t mean that I watch you, I just look at you a lot-”

“That’s not better!” Katniss cut in, smiling now.

“Look!” Peeta said. “I’m not trying to be weird. I know you don’t like me very much, but-”

“I like you,” Katniss said before she could stop herself. Then, because she’d already let the cat out of the bag, “I, um. I like you a lot.”

She couldn’t look at him after that. He was blushing to the tips of his ears, but she turned her face to the darkening sky before she could see his expression, pretending to look at the stars that were just beginning to appear.

“No offense,” he said finally, “but.. You should be nicer to people you like.”

Her head snapped up, ready to glare - who berated a crying girl who’d just divulged a deep secret? - but Peeta was smiling teasingly at her, his teeth gleaming white against his black and gray face paint.

“I’m just not a very nice person,” she allowed, feeling warmth flow through her. What a turn the evening had taken.

“You can work on it,” he said playfully, nudging her shoulder again.

“I make no promises,” she replied, and in the silence that followed Katniss could feel an unfamiliar sort of tension strung between the two of them.

This was the most they’d talked in almost two years, ever since that frosty February morning behind the bakery. He’d been the one crying then, sitting on the back steps of the kitchen and holding the collar of his shirt to a split lip.

(If Haymitch’s drinking was the worst kept secret in town, Mrs. Mellark’s temper was the second worst kept secret.)

All she’d done was ask if he was okay, offer him the handkerchief from her coat pocket. That had made him laugh. “Who carries a handkerchief?” he’d asked, and she’d said, “My dad does,” because that was the only reason she herself had one.

“I think about that day a lot,” Peeta said suddenly, as if he could read her mind. “I thought maybe we’d be friends after that, but…:”

But then her dad had died, and her life as she’d known it had ended, and all those handkerchiefs were still at her mom’s house, stuffed in a dresser drawer full of things she hadn’t been able to look at in years.

Katniss didn’t want to think about that anymore.

“We can be friends now,” she offered.

“Okay,” Peeta agreed, grinning.

Katniss smiled back. “Okay.”

“Hey,” she said a few minutes later as they made their way back into the house. “If you don’t like scary movies, why did you come to the party?”

“Honestly?” Peeta asked, waiting for her to nod before continuing bashfully. “I hoped you would be here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly. “Also, I really like Halloween.”

Again, her mouth moved without her brain’s permission, and she said, “You should come trick-or-treating with me. Us. Me and my sister. If you want to. I know it’s sort of childish, but-”

“Awesome,” Peeta interrupted, and she was grateful because there was no telling what would have come out of her mouth if she’d been allowed to keep talking.

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “Awesome. Okay.”

“Do you wanna go back downstairs?” he asked. “I might go out back and see what the other kids are doing.”

“I’ll come with you,” Katniss said quickly, before her nerves could fail her. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew she didn’t want it to end.

“Cool,” Peeta said, blushing again.

Katniss just smiled, and followed him out into the back yard.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #autumn #juxtaposie #submission #prompt

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