#my littlest siblings were old enough to be away from Mom for a while and still young enough to be lulled to sleep by the car | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acioo · 4 years

Text

( PART ONE HERE ) & ( PART TWO HERE ) here are EVEN MORE NINE CHARACTER BASES ( label & background & personality ), all of whom i have played out in the past. they expand beyond ‘ the queen bee ‘ and ‘ the awkward nerd ‘ because i think as a community we’re all tired of the cliche bull, so have some of my most fun & most subversive times. these are for inspiration purposes as well as admin purposes. if you are going to use these in an rph setting, i request credit, but otherwise, it’s not necessary. ( all details viable to change ; pinterest board links available for all of them - if you are interested in my characters, see my muse page ) TW : violence, alcohol, drugs, child neglect, murder, death, abuse, kidnapping, adultery

001. THE GOLDEN CHILD TURNED DARK — you grow up golden. you’re the oldest child of the best psychic in town and no one likes to remember it. your childhood is a string of choir practices and photoshoots and sleepovers only ever at other people's homes. ( you sometimes wonder whether your home is even a home at all, for it is vast and cold and unsettling ground at the best of times, and a war ground at the worst of times. ) your mother’s a showman and you are more party favor than you are human, most of the time. for you, they will forget her black cats and tarot decks and smoke screens. you are too good to ever be apart of such foolishness, right, sweetheart? you’d never put your hands in something like that, we know. you’ll smile and nod; you try not to think about the way that you share your mother’s same big eyes. the fact that as she gets older, the more sense she makes. how sometimes, inexplicably, more often than not, she is right in one way or another. that your mother is playing god and winning, and sometimes you let her take your hands and take your energy, and you are winning too. they’d never suspect the dirt on your hands like they suspect your little sister, who never had the patience for your mother's whims and wishes and stays bitter about the way people treat her. sometimes you can’t stand her for still being kind to you when you know it’s not fair that she’s on the outcasts of society when people treat you like a god. when you hear the blonde cheerleader with full lips call your little sister an ‘arrogant fucking occultist,’ you’ll beat the shit out of her until it takes two of the football players to tear you off. you’ll have a heart to heart with her about it later, where she stares at you in fear and you in guilt. she doesn’t press charges but you become the first class president to ever get expelled. you never tell your sister, even though she begs to know. hell, sometimes you don’t even know. it’s your mother’s work on you and you know it. some cosmic karma for playing with things she shouldn’t. your sanity for the sake of a little bit of power. you’ll don your mother’s long dark gloves. her heavy veils. you’ll become a fixture at the haunted home at the end of the block.

002. THE FLIGHTLESS BIRD — your mother tongue is not your mother’s mother tongue and you never manage to remember this fact. your cousins are a world away, but you’re glad they are. they love to mock you and your shiny, pristine life away from everything that was once your mother’s pride and culture and family all wrapped in one. you’re not enough of an immigrant but this isn’t your homeland, either. you can’t help it, though. you fit in like a new dress. your whole life, all everyone has ever wanted to do was try you on for size. for what it’s worth, you’ve grown used to being tossed aside, even if it doesn’t make it hurt any less. your grandmother, who crossed continents because she missed your smile, likes to say that your curse is your love of humanity, but you think it’s that humanity doesn't love you back. no matter how hard you try you can’t hold on to that helium balloon called happiness and all your broken bridges trail behind you singing a siren song trying to take you home, but you don’t think you have a home. where would it be? your birthplace, where everyone looks like you but no one really gets you, or where you grew up, where you know everyone but sometimes wish you didn’t. your mother tells you to grow up. that you remind her so much of her sister, who weaves tales all marked with complicated, who your grandmother will reference with one finger to her temple in a swirled motion. your mother doesn’t do complicated, and you’ve never been anything but, which you think is probably why she spent so much time at work, and not with you. you’re okay. you adapt. it’s all you know how to do.

003. THE HEIR — before you are even born, you have a reputation. your last name is the brand you’re not sure you ever wanted. when your mother was twenty-five she inherited the title of head of the crime family she was born in. the crime family that runs the east coast. when you are twenty-five, you’ll drink until your heart beats thunderously in your chest. when you are twenty-five, your best friend will comment about how unfair it is that your life has never been yours, that tomorrow you will be gone forever, that you will have to dedicate your entire life to running something you weren’t even born to run, and you will beat her to death and live to regret it. when you are born, you are not mommy’s little heir. you’re second in line. your big brother’s love shines down on you. he’s different than you, or your little brothers who have a sickening taste for this kind of life. he’s kind. before you can grow to understand that he is the best of your family, your mother cuts him out with a single dinner party and you won’t see him again until you’re sixteen and he shows up outside your school with an expensive leather jacket on and tries to beg you to come with him and get away from this life you’ve been saddled with. you will look him in his eyes and ask him, trembling, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt, eyes blurry with tears, “have we met?” your mother raises you to be strong. unflinching in the eyes of adversity. knives nestled into your boots, blood dripping from your mouth, a smile on your lips, the first gift you ever get is the lives of the men who kidnap you when you are thirteen. you’re so angry in a way your brother never understood how to be. you’re so angry you don’t know what you’re angry about anymore. your lot in life? your family? your personality? the fact that you understand violence, deeply and intimately? that you invite violence into your bed? that it does not make you flinch and you cannot, will not remember a time that it did? you will never be normal. this is your normal. it’s an inheritance and it’s yours. an inheritance worth a life.

004. THE GONE BOY — your mother tells you that you were born in the winter. she tells you that she thinks a piece of winter got into your soul. that she’s afraid you’ll never move past it. you’ll shrug your shoulders and smile at her. you try not to think about it too much and you do a pretty good job of it. she sees too much of herself in you to be happy. all her worst parts, the kind she didn’t bring into your parent's marriage. you’re the youngest child. the favorite, or at least you were until you got old enough to have a rightful personality. your older siblings envy the fact that your moms are still together while their parents don’t live in the same states. you’re supposed to be the best one yet because they’ve had a lot of practice by the time you rolled around, but all you’ve ever done is make problems for yourself. you take joy in finding ways to piss people off. when you’re thirteen, you’ll bleach your hair white and your mama’s face when she sees it is something you treasure so deeply. when you’re fifteen, you’ll come home from school high as a kite and telling your mother your eyes are red from crying is better than the truth. mama will understand crying, but you’re supposed to be the golden child with the pretty blue eyes. their perfect little experiment and you just want to scream because you know, you fucking know, but the fact of the matter is that you’ve never really cared. you’re more you than you will ever be them and half of them is glad but the other half is indignant and the bad side is louder. you can understand that. all your bad side is, is loud. they ask who you are, and you’ll always tell the truth. they just wished that you hadn’t.

005. THE TSUNAMI — you hit the news at sixteen years old. the littlest heir of the biggest chain of luxury hotels across the west coast. your mother didn’t want this life for you, but you’ve never given it much thought. all you’ve ever cared about it is waves that crash just right and that marvelous feeling you get when it’s so early in the morning that no one else is awake but the birds are chirping and the sun is peaking out. you’re simple in that way. people like complicated, but for the first sixteen years of your life, you are anything but. you like surfing and you like kissing whoever you want and saying fuck wherever you want. your first best friend starts a smear campaign against you after you break her heart by outgrowing her. she’ll say whatever she likes, and most of it you can acknowledge has some truth to it. you’re popping pills ( adderall's a hell of a drug, baby, you’ll croon out to her, mouth spinning around the straw of your slurpee ) and you’re always crawling back to your mommy. people are enthralled by you. they want something from you that you never cared to give. you’re peculiar in a way they want to write about or scream about, but you don’t have time for any of it. you never meant to hurt anyone, really, ever at all. you’re more baby bird on the verge of flight than you are spoiled brat with hundreds in your wallet.

006. THE GREEK TRAGEDY — you’re the og child prodigy. one of the most famous ever and if you had a normal childhood, you would come to understand the consequences of this. you wonder about it. would you have cracked under all that pressure or would you have been a diamond? some ivy league college before you hit puberty, saving the world, and making sure everyone knows it, all the while? you never find out. when you’re still a child, you’ll wander off. that itself is not a problem. you always wander. you live in the middle of nowhere because your parents are fancy, famous scientists with more money than you will ever need and your house is surrounded by nature. you prefer that to the marble columns. the problem is that you wander and you are found, but it’s not who you should be. by the time everyone realizes you’re missing, properly, milk-cartoon, headlines on the morning news missing, you’re out of the state. you’ll be everywhere. your face, your story. you won’t realize this until you’re seventeen, but they looked for you. everyone looked for you. no matter how many years had passed, everyone still waited for you with bated breath. you won’t get to be a child prodigy, but you will get to be something else. a killer. the man who finds you has hands coated in blood and he wants to make sure you do too. before you know anything, you know violence. your intelligence is no longer the most important thing about you. in fact, it’s not even mentioned. he wants to know how powerful you can swing, how silently you can sneak up beside someone, and with how much force you can dig in a knife. you forget your old life. your parent’s kind smiles. your sister's gentle hands. the way everyone knew your name. now, you have no name and you have no story, just someone to follow. there are others like you, who got taken away by him, but he doesn’t like you guys hanging around much. you’re not the favorite, and he never fails to tell you this. you’re too you. he will hit you and you will spit blood with a smile on your face. a part of you will always be free, and you tell him this. all he does is hit you again. when you’re seventeen, he’ll leave you in the city and tell you not to come home without blood on your hands. you go to a diner, sit at the counter and pray they don’t make your dirty self leave as you sip orange juice. the news plays. celebrity marriage. robbery. and, suddenly, an anniversary, eight years to the day since a child with your cheekbones disappeared off the face of the earth. it all floods back and you’re left reeling. in a short period of a few months, you will escape from his hand. you will also very, very nearly die by his hand. you will go home. they never stopped waiting.

007. THE FALLEN PRINCESS — you don’t look goddamn anything like your siblings. it’s the first thing people say when meeting you and your mother's smile will always tighten around the edges. you’re tall and blonde and shining and they’re all pale skin and brown hair with the same roman noses and aura of power. you get the family's mossy green eyes but nothing else. your mother always dismisses it as a fluke and your father never mentions it, though you never fail to notice how his eyes always skim over you. you just attribute it to the wrongness in you. the one they never stop talking about. physical proof that you’re the black sheep of the royal family. it’s your eighteenth birthday when your mother sits you in her waiting room and tells you that almost two decades ago, she had a brief and passionate fling with one of their country’s soldiers before he went into the war and was never seen again. it all makes sense but you wish you could just go back to before she ever told you. everything pieces together. you’re a mar on the family's reputation and their dirty little secret in plain sight. your father is not your father and he’s only ever acted like it. you’re a living product of your mother’s whims, which he never fails to mention are his least favorite of your mother’s qualities. it only makes you worse. the royal terror, they call you. you’re the youngest of the family, the little asshole with a less than little drinking problem, and eventually, it becomes an open secret of your lineage. word gets around fast in a kingdom like yours, but it isn’t even yours anymore, really. one of your hands reaches out for a crown that will never really be yours but still sits heavy on your head.

008. THE STORYTELLER — you’re five years old and your mother tells your uncle that one day, you two will have screaming matches loud enough to wake the neighborhood. you’re ten and your big sister tells you that sometimes she doesn’t even know who you are, that you’re a cycling door at best and a rolled dice at worst. you’re thirteen and the doctor tells you he knows you’re an intelligent kid, but he wishes you would act like it. you’re a rolling stone of your own. you like screaming and fighting and no one likes that side of you. the dirty, loud one, the one you really weren’t raised to have, but sometimes when your mother isn’t around to call bullshit you’ll say is a product of moving so much as a kid, or of your dad never being around, or of never fitting in the right way. but it’s quite possible that you were just born this way. with some kind of fire in your soul that has never been quiet enough for you to hear yourself think, or at the very least, hear before you run your mouth. your mouth which more often than not will leave you stranded in fights and in relationships you don’t know how to get out of. you like causing a ruckus. flirting with people you shouldn’t, drinking honestly excessive amounts of alcohol, saying fuck around your abuelos just to see the looks of horror on their faces. you’ve been told both that you have a big heart and that you’re a big bitch, and it makes sense because you’ve always been bigger than life in one way or another. too much for people to swallow with ease, so they usually just don’t try. you’re fine with that. you have enough try in your for both of you guys.

009. THE RICH KID ADDICT — the first thing you remember is your mother. you must be four or five, sitting next to her on the fancy dining chairs, dressed in perfect little church clothes and your feet not reaching the floor. you asked her what daddy was talking about. all you hear is angry and death and destruction and revenge. your mother tells you in her soft voice, her matching eyes quivering with something that is not fear but rather pity, that your daddy has a curse. you learn much about this curse over the rest of your life. it makes your father not a father. an angry bitter man who shouts at you to get the hell out of his lab, to get out of his sight for a few nights, to stop asking so many questions. there are periods of reprieve that you never understand. your father’s happy again, hanging out with his best friend who you thought he loathed, wearing hawaiian print and having the same kind of smile you used to have before things got so hard all the time. but then it’s all over again. you’re sixteen, doing astrophysics homework in the living room while sipping on sangria in a stemless wine glass when things will come to a head. your father’s bad again, but he’s pleading with you, saying baby, baby, just come to the lab, just come see what i’ve done this time. this is new, so on even feet you’ll follow him in, until he wraps a handcuff around your wrist and puts the other one around his lab chair. you scream and you bang things, but no one’s there to hear you. your mother’s at a conference call in miami. your father tells you it’s fine, it’ll all be okay, and you beg him, please, daddy, please just let me go. he takes out a syringe and it’s green and big and you scream and thrash, and then you wake up in your bed. you feel the same and look the same, but you rip the doorknob off its hinges. when you cut your finger in engineering it heals up in seconds. you feel more awake, more real than you ever had, but worse than ever. he poisoned you and you’re not you anymore. you can’t cope with it, but his eyes shine with pride whenever he sees you around the house. you drink to forget it all and you become a cliche, but you’re never sober enough to be aware of it. a bit of beer on most nights and a lot on the weekends turns into pills and bottles and long nights, until your mother’s divorcing your father and it’s psychiatrist offices and failure notices and tabloids.

#rph #rpt #writing #Resources #masterlist #admin help #rp help #mine: char bases #part tres by popular demand !#happy quarantine kids!!!

342 notes · View notes

circumstellars · 4 years

Note

Hello there! Can I have a ficlet with dialogue prompt, 'What's making him scream like that?' for Five and Diego, or any siblings you like ;)

[Ok so this turned out slightly longer than intended, but I was able to blend it together with another idea I had for a follow up to this ficlet.

The context is that this is canon compliant in that it happens somewhere near the end of S1EP4, when passed out drunk Five is recovering in Diego’s bed.

Basically Five has an PTSD episode, or a night terror if that’s easier, and the line you prompted I rearranged and altered a bit to fit the scene, so I hope that’s okay?

In this addition to the canon, when they were little Ben begins to have trouble controlling the otherworldly monster he uses, and Five has made a promise he won’t let things get out of hand. Fast forward to S1, where Luther and Diego are taking care of him, but before Al comes to deliver Eudora’s message, and it is sandwiched between two Five apocalypse flashbacks.

So so so many thanks to @michlle, or @/kkie on TUA Adult Fan Discord server. She’s an amazing beta that helped me in a pinch! So the only reason my grammar is so much better than usual is entirely thanks to her.

Very angsty. Blood, just a snippet a violence. Brotherly pain all around, emotional suffering. Enjoy! I hope you like it.]

================================================

⟨p⟩=md⟨x⟩/dt=mddt∫∞−∞x|ψ|2dx=m∫∞−∞x∂|ψ|2∂tdx. 'It's a simple fucking equation, what is wrong?' His shaky fingers struggled with the chalk, accidentally snapping off one end against the concrete wall. Five swore, making a face at the broken piece of chalk like it spoke ill of his mother.

Oh god. Mom. His face crumpled. 'The expectation values of displacement and momentum... obey time evolution equations analogous with,' a wet cough interrupted his deflated musing. He spun around and rested against the concrete he had been writing on moments before, before turning an eye to Dolores. '... the mechanics of Schrödinger’s equation.' Dolores gave him a weary look. Five avoided her gaze. She didn't know. It's not like she had been forced to pick up quantum physics at age ten, and really, he had to forgive her for that. The sun was powerful today, as it had been at least seventeen of the twenty-six days he'd been stuck in the apocalyptic ruins of his former city. It should have only been the end of April, if that newspaper clipping he held close was in fact the last thing to have been printed, but it felt hotter than middle July easily. The aggressive winds of mid-afternoon whipped all sorts of debris into his frail body and any exposed skin, and Five simply couldn't risk any injuries that could deplete his energy. He was on the cusp of fixing this, he could feel it in his exhausted bones.

He swallowed down the start of a painful sob, careful to steel over his expression. 'I know you said something about the farthest right term Dolores, but I'm not neglecting it,' Five chided, breathing into the dirty scarf around his face.

He turned around and scooped up the chalk he had rejected moments ago. 'The spatial extent of the particle wavefunction isn't smaller than the variation length-scale of the potential. You're clever, and pretty, but not that clever.'

Five snorted at his own banter, smiling into the trails of chalk spilling from his hand as it ran across the rubble. 'Now, listen carefully this time...' --- Diego unceremoniously dropped Dolores on a nearby chair. The fuck is this for? He gave the mannequin an odd look. A few steps away Luther lowered their brother carefully into Diego's roomy, luxurious twin cot, rolling the sleepy, drunken Five so that he was resting comfortably on his side.

Diego sidled next to Luther, joining him in looking over their tiny brother. Small, frozen in time for them both in memory and now, awkwardly, in reality too. The baby fat still very much clung to his still rounded features and made him look impossibly younger in a way that brought nostalgia roaring up the esophagus like heartburn. He was supposedly twice their age now? Diego scrunched his nose; to think this child, for all intents and purposes, laid here so serenely- so sweetly, dare he say it, looked like a boy who'd just tired himself out at school that day. Yet he knew, the moment Five sobered up, the illusion would crumble swiftly and without mercy. 'Funny, if I didn't know he was such a prick, I'd say he looks almost adorable in his sleep.'

Luther snorted. 'Well, don't worry. He'll sober up eventually... and be back to his normal, unpleasant self.'

That's not good enough. 'Yeah - I can't wait that long.' Diego spun on his heel, intending to grab provisions. Five had about ten minutes of rest before Diego would be ready to forcibly pull him into consciousness with soda crackers and ginger-ale. 'I need to find out what connections he has to these lunatics before someone else dies.'

Luther didn't respond right away, eyes flickering to Five and back. He looked pensive, uncomfortable. Diego still hadn’t gotten used to the subtle changes in Luther's personality; it was disquieting the way he looks so much bigger than he used to, and yet now he seems so much smaller to Diego than he ever physically was. The big man had an air of constant uncertainty around him.

'That stuff he was saying before...' Luther began after a moment, 'what do you think he meant by that?' Diego glanced over his shoulder at Five's sleeping figure, curled up tightly in foetal position. His expression darkened in his sleep, and Diego frowned. 'I don't know...' The words came slowly, his focus narrowing in on his littlest brother. He turned quickly again, box of soda crackers forgotten on his dingy counter.

Five began to fuss, still unconscious, but his body began to shake some, and his entire expression was pinched in discomfort. Luther was watching Diego, puzzled, and followed his eyes back to Five on the cot behind him.

Then came the screaming.

Both Luther and Diego jumped back in alarm as the most harrowing, stomach-churning scream came from Five. He was folded into himself, clutching at his own biceps so hard his knuckles were bone-white. The screams that were coming from him sounded so raw Diego was sure he was damaging his vocal cords in some way.

Luther came down from his initial shock quicker than Diego and was at the cot in an instant. Diego held his breath, jaw fighting to unhinge. He was always quick in his reflexes, but something held Diego down and glued his feet to the floor. His body was alarmingly stiff with inaction.

Luther was gripping at Five, holding him as he jerked back and forth, scream after scream tearing through his rattled body. Over and over Luther tried to talk over Five, wake him up, continuously asking him what is wrong and 'what is happening Five? Can't you hear me?'

'W-ww-why is h-h-h-he screaming like t-that?'

Diego’s broken voice was swallowed up in the cacophony of Five's agonising wailing and Luther's panicked mantra of Five, Five, Please Five, Five!

Five's painful screams were tearing bloody wounds into Diego’s eardrums, and the sound of his little brother in such convincingly raw misery pulled terrifying tremors up from deep within his belly.

Go.

What happened?

Iego.

Five?

'-Iego. Diego! Diego!' Luther's voice hit him like an anvil. 'Hey?'

Why is he screaming like that?

All at once life moved forward with a start. Air sucked its way back into Diego's lungs and his attention snapped to his brothers. Five was no longer on the bed, but crumpled over on their large brother's lap, clutching not his own arms anymore but instead had all ten, trembling fingers gripped into Luther's jacket for absolute, dear life. Luther had a pained expression etched into his normally hard visage, and his arms came up to hold Five in place as gently as Diego had ever seen his giant brother move. It only dawned on him then, that Five wasn't screaming anymore.

Diego moved quietly, setting himself on the bed next to his brothers as silently as he could, almost as if he were afraid to spook an already terrified deer pinned between a rocky ledge and an oncoming truck.

Mindlessly Diego laid his gloved hand to his little brother's head, cupping the back of it gingerly. Something heavy threatened to pull his heart into his guts, and the struggle disguised itself in the shadows of his expression.

For a while everything was deadly quiet. The pipes in the old building gurgled apropos nothing, the boxing business outside long closed for the evening with only Al's occasional footsteps any sure sign life still existed outside this hole he called home.

Diego couldn't hear much else, aside from the ragged breaths shaking Five's small chest. His eyes were still closed, creased with concern, delicate fans of black eyelashes twitching as his brain worked through whatever dark secrets Five hadn’t dared to yet share with any of his siblings.

'Five...' but Diego’s voice aborted the words in his throat, and he met Luther's eyes. He found no answers.

What did you see, Five?

--- Day 42.

A rat scampered past Five’s feet and jumped into a pile of debris outside the remains of a nearby fast-food joint. He shaded his eyes with his left hand and looked over the large expanse of the now lifeless tundra he used to call home. The details of everything in the distance dissolved into the intensely hot horizon.

‘Today is as good a day as any,’ he said, exhaling loudly. Dolores agreed from where she was perched in her wagon. I’m ready.

Five ripped off his weighty, layered scarf and tossed it to the ground. Today is the day. He was going to get back to his family.

He took another deep breath and ran over some calculations a final time in his head, his eyebrows pinching together with determination. Focus.

First, just a hum. Then, a moment later a spark. Five growled and redoubled his efforts, tightening his fists as hard as they would go, until the jagged half-moons of his nails cut right into the flesh of his palms.

‘Come on!’ And then it appeared. Small, at first, but definitely, absolutely, positively the start of the vortex, undeniable as it began flickering into existence. It was immediately apparent Five couldn’t do this for a second longer than he had to; every muscle in his body was desperately working to help him rip a hole right into the material of the space-time continuum, and pain blossomed in every limb, one after another.

‘COME ON!’ The air around the wormhole became unstable, trying to escape the vacuum and whipping everything around Five into a frenzy. Dolores tipped over in her wagon, and Five nearly lost his grip on the material of time. He willed himself into ignoring her momentarily, letting out a howl as he pulled open the vortex as far as it would go. Five inhaled shakily, and let go.

I did it. There it was. He was finally going home. Five’s knees nearly buckled underneath him as he was hit with a heady wave of excitement and relief. Luther. Vanya. Ben! Diego-- all of them. He was going to see them all again, today. Now. Tears spilt from his eyes, but he didn’t take any notice. There were flickers of life beyond the vortex, and then faces, and bodies, and Allison and Klaus, unmistakable as they filtered in and out of focus like the signal was dying on an old television set. Five was animated in an instant and turned to grab Dolores. They had to go. Now. He scooped up her feather-light body. ‘Leave it, Dolores! We don’t have time!’ He’d find her a new sweater once they were home. Hell, he’d buy her a whole rack of her own sweaters, anything Dolores wants, if only they got home right now.

And then the screaming came.

Five whipped around.

Again. First one voice, then two. Many more joined them, and Five ran toward the wormhole.

‘BEN!’

Ben? Five braced himself against the pull of the vortex, the air thin and difficult to pull into his lungs. It whipped around him with a force he’d never felt before, and his hat and goggles were snatched from his head and thrown well into the distance. The shrieking was getting louder, closer, and the images from the other side pieced together the closer Five inched into its grip. The voices were blood-curdling, and his whole body went cold with terror.

‘Diego, don’t!’

‘Ben! Klaus, get out of the way!’

‘BEEEEEEEEEEEENNN!’

‘BEN! WHATS HAPPENING!?’

‘BEN!’

No.

No, no.

He was going back, it was going to be okay. Five was going back, it was going to be okay.

It all happened within the span of three seconds.

The fuzzy images of his siblings running, screaming, blood soaked into their clothes, painted across their young faces – dripping from their feet as they scrambled away.

Ben.

Ben’s body dangling nearly fifteen feet off the ground, monstrous appendages thrashing wildly and destroying the surroundings with savage flings.

Two grotesque limbs held his bloodied and mangled brother skywards, uninhibited by his terrified screams.

No.

No. no. no. no.

No. no. no. no. no. nonononono-

‘Someone stop him!’

‘Klaus you can’t! KLAUS-‘

It felt like his skin was being flayed from his muscle. Five thought he might have been screaming too but couldn’t hear anything. All he knew for sure was the feeling of his molecules being pulled apart.

Everything was silent. Like the deadness of space itself, for a fraction of a second, a microscopic fragment of time - absolutely nothing existed. Crunch.

The blood that hit his face hurt. And then someone pressed play.

Everything moved again and it knocked the wind out of his lungs. Five was violently thrown from the throes of the wormhole, sucked back into his own point in time and tossed several feet backwards into strewn debris.

‘NO!’

The vortex he’d spent forty-two days working on was gone, just like that. Absorbed into the material of space, the deep wound he’d used every ounce of energy to create was now healed over in a matter of seconds, lost to some other dimension and out of his grasp. Ben. He’d promised him. He had promised his brother he would be there, that he would figure it out.

That Ben wouldn’t die. But Five let him. He watched the brutal final seconds of his brother’s life, his body torn into pieces by the beast he tried so hard to contain. Five wasn’t there.

He didn’t make it. He had told Ben he wouldn’t let him die, but he did, and Five just watched it happen, unable to do absolutely fucking shit. The sun was merciless. It baked Ben’s blood on every part that had briefly touched the other side. It settled into the cracks of the tattered skin on his right hand, pulled at the skin under his eyes and on his cheeks – crusted where it had dripped into his mouth and over his tongue. When the trance that numbed Five finally broke, it was nightfall.

He still sat on his haunches, a few fingers on his left hand barely curled around Dolores’ shirt. And when it did, and his throat finally moved to swallow, his limbs twitching with overwhelming pain, and his chest trembling violently, the only thing Five could feel was the fiery strain of the unending wailing that tore ceaselessly from his lungs.

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #request fill #ficlets #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #ben hargreeves #luther hargreeves #attempted canon-compliant angst featuring a bunch of the emotionally stunted man-children #my nonsense #mywriting #myworks #myficlets

37 notes · View notes

kisses-holland · 5 years

Text

bruised

A/N; This is my first imagine and i hope you guys enjoy! Let me know if you would like a part two. Requests are open as well :)

Summary: Y/N Holland and Tom Holland get into a massive argument, leaving the reader extremely hurt. Y/N ends up at a party, where, not only does she get hurt physically; but mentally as well.

Pairing: Brother!Tom x Reader, Harrison Osterfield, Sam Holland, Harry Holland

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Angst?? Tom, Harrison and the rest of the gang are assholes, a little bit of blood

Word Count: 2.4K

“You do this every time. You start drama and all these fights and then you decide to play the victim!” Tom yelled at you. You and tom were at each other’s throats again. Constantly bickering over the littlest things, but always putting it past each other; being the fourth youngest Holland child, you were close with all of your siblings.

However, this time, this fight, was different. You had a feeling you and Tom were not gonna be able to come down from this.

“I just want to hang out while you’re home, Tommy. You're always with Harrison or some slut you find at a party, whose name you won’t even remember. I never get to see you and I miss you, ya know?” you say, fighting the tears that were bound to spill out of your eyes.

Tom scoffed at your reply. “You're always with your friends, you’re the one whose never home, and when you are home, you’re always cooped up in your room. Don’t play that shit with me.” he rolled his eyes, trying to get to his bedroom with Harrison hot on his trail.

“Tom’s right, Y/N. You’ve also been kind of a bitch lately. Maybe try fixing your attitude of yours and he’ll want to hang out with you.” Harrison smirked, and walked into Tom’s room.

To say you were shocked, is an understatement. You have always seen Harrison as another older brother, and hearing him say that to you, hurt. If not your brother, Harrison was always there for you, through everything.

Shocked and hurt, you decided to just leave them be so you can all cool down. You sat on your bed, quiet sobs escaping you as you heard your brother and his best friend talk about you in the other room. Deciding to do something productive, you started picking out outfits for your best friend’s party tonight. Your best friend, Kait, was 17 today, and what better way to celebrate than to have a few close friends together for drinks, right?

Deciding on a sheer black top, a bralette to wear underneath, and ripped blue jeans, you decided to do your makeup and pack your overnight bag so you wouldn't have to come home drunk and disturb your family.

While doing your makeup, you texted Kait and asked her to bring double the amount of alcohol for you, since you were wanting to forget about everything that's happened today. You gave no fucks, and you weren’t even coming home tonight, so what's the big deal?

You were wearing more makeup than you usually do, and your outfit was a bit outside your comfort zone, so when you walked downstairs and saw Sam, Harry and Paddy shoot you daggers, you weren't really surprised.

“Where you headed to?” Harry asked, arms crossed.

“Why do you care?” You asked, not ready to deal with your other brothers.

“We don’t, we just wanna know why you’re not apologizing to Tom after today, and why you’re running away from your problems.” Sam grinned, joining his twin brother. You stared at them both, in shock. Sure, Harrison was a little rude to you, but Sam and Harry? You didn’t expect it from them.

You were about to say something, until you heard Kait’s car outside.

“Just tell mum I'll be staying at a friends tonight” you muttered, before leaving.

“You seem like you need a destressor.” Kait laughed, as you got in the passenger seat of her car.

‘Tell me about it. Did you get it?” You inquired about your alcohol.

“Yup. 12 pack and a litre of vodka. Should be enough for you, right?”

“It’s perfect.”

Five hours, ten drinks, and half a bottle of vodka later, you found yourself on top of your friend, Hanna’s back, taking pictures. To say you were wasted, was an understatement. You could barely walk, let alone talk.

“Jazzy, please take more-more pictures of me and-and Han” You slurred, laughing like a maniac.

All of a sudden, you hear a vague “watch out”, followed by a hard object connecting with your face, and you falling on the ground, not moving.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Someone help!” you hear a faint voice yell, until everything went black.

You remember the feeling of blood dripping down and across your face. You remember the ringing in your ears, and the excruciating pain in your head. And now, here you were, in a white room that did not look anything like yours.

But then you noticed.

“Why can i only see from one eye?” you thought.

Immediately, you pushed a button beside your hospital bed, resulting in a nurse coming to your aid straight away.

“Oh good, Y/N. You’re awake. How are you feeling, dear?” she asked, giving you some water and a couple pain meds.

“Why can’t I see? My head hurts so bad” you cried.

“Shh. Calm down, sweetie. Someone threw a bottle at you at a party last night. Now, I do have some news for you. That bottle fractured two bones around your eye socket. You are required to come back tomorrow morning for a check up with the plastic surgeon, and we will also need your parents’ contact information so we can let them know what happened, as your emergency contacts didn’t answer.” she stated.

“Plastic surgeon?” you gulped. You hated hospitals. Surgeries were a whole different level..

“I'm sorry, sweetie. But if the fracture doesn’t get better on it’s own, we’re gonna have to perform the surgery.” she gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Did my friends leave my phone here?” you asked quietly.

“They sure did.” The nurse kindly gave you your phone. “I’ll be right outside. Just push the button If you need anything” She smiled and walked away.

You furrowed your eyebrows. What were you supposed to do? Who were you supposed to call? Your parents would absolutely flip if you called them. Sam and Harry wouldn’t care, and Tom and Harrison were out of the picture. Hell, they didn’t even answer when the hospital called them. Paddy wasn’t old enough to drive yet. Your only option at this point was to take a cab, except all of your clothes were covered in blood. You groaned, because now you’re actually going to have to call your parents.

One thing about Tom is that he can’t keep his mouth shut, whether it’d be movies or exciting events, but he also can’t seem to keep things between you in situations like these. You know that he has told your parents everything, and you know your parents are disappointed as ever. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a text from either your mum or dad, explaining how disappointed they are.

Shaking the feeling of guilt, you quickly dialled your mum’s number. You knew that if she was listed as your emergency contact, she would answer straight away. but since your emergency contacts were Tom and Harrison, she had no idea that her daughter had slept in a hospital room overnight.

“Hello?” Nikki's groggy voice made you feel guiltier, knowing you had woken her up. It was one of the only days she had to sleep in, since she worked early hours in the morning times on weekdays.

“Mommy?” You whimpered, trying hard not to cry. You weren’t sure if it was the pain you were feeling due to your injuries, the fact that you couldn’t open your left eye, or the fact that basically your entire family was mad at you, that was causing your tears.

“Y/N? Sweetie? What happened? Aren’t you staying at Kait’s house? Why are you calling me so early? Go back to bed, hun.” Your mUm sounded like she was a little bit more awake, but after the sob that left your mouth, she was already getting out of bed.

“I did something really bad, mommy. can you please come get me? I'm sorry.” you couldn’t keep it in any longer. everything that’s happened the past day has came down on you, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it; no matter how hard you tried.

“Y/N, where are you sweetie? What happened? Dom- wake up.” You heard your mum yelling at your dad to wake him up.

Feeling even more bad, you managed to tell her that you were at the hospital, and that you were in the emergency room.

“I’ll be there soon for you, baby. Hang on tight. I love you.” Nikki quickly hung up the phone and got dressed, running down the stairs as fast as she could, finding all four of her sons and Harrison in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Woah there mum. Slow down. Where ya headed?” Tom asked, looking at her with concern.

“Did any of you guys get a call from Y/N last night?” she asked, quickly pouring herself some coffee in a travel mug.

“No, why? We all went to bed pretty early, too.” Tom said, not wanting to talk about his little sister who he’s still infuriated with.

Truth was, he did get a call last night. Both him and Harrison did. Except, the caller was unknown, and due to safety reasons, they both agreed to not answer the phone call. Not thinking anything of the calls, both of them went to bed.

“I'll just be right back.” Nikki quickly ran out the door, barely putting on her shoes before she ran to her car, and rushed to the hospital where her only daughter was at.

20 minutes later, after almost breaking a couple red lights and going as fast as she could, Nikki arrived at the hospital out of breath.

After being led to your room, she immediately gasped at the sight. There you were, dry blood all across your face. your left eye was purple and swollen shut. A big bandage was covering your eyebrow and half your forehead.

“Oh my- baby girl” Your mom cried as she held you.

“I'm sorry mommy. I shouldn't have went out last night. I'm so sorry” You sobbed, trying to ignore the pain coming from your eye. “I can't see from my left eye, mom. please help me.” You started wailing. Sure, bad things happened to you now and then, but this?

“Who did this to you, baby? I promise I'm not mad. Just tell me what happened” She asked, helping you up and change out of your hospital gown.

“I-I don't know. I was taking pictures with Hannah and all of a sudden I felt something hit me and I fell to the ground. The nurse told me that someone had thrown a bottle at me. I don’t know if it was an accident or on purpose, and I don’t know who it was. I'm sorry, mum.” You cried, as more tears slipped out.

Nikki quickly pulled you into her warm embrace, and you suddenly felt safe again.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” You were signed out of the hospital, with the nurses giving you sympathetic looks on the way.

“Can I sleep when I get home? I'm tired.” You say. Considering the fact that it was 7:30 in the morning, Nikki did not deny your request.

“Anything for you, baby” She sighed, wanting so desperately to know who hurt her daughter, and why they had done it.

20 minutes later, you were home. Nikki unlocked the door and you were greeted with all of your brothers and Harrison eating breakfast. you tried so desperately to hide your face, but just your luck, paddy had seen it before you could even dash up the stairs to your beloved bed.

“Y/N?” Paddy asked frantically. He had never seen anyone in this state, let alone his own sister.

And just like that, all eyes were on you.

1K notes · View notes

nadacwriter · 4 years

Text

OCtober (Belated) Day 2: Mercy

So, this will be my first piece using the Delstran universe, and what better way to introduce it than a prompt for @oc-growth-and-development‘s OCtober? None, I say!

MERCY provides a better look into Natalie, the ‘main character’ of my current Delstran story.

WORDS: 1322

Mercy

Natalie had a strange and complicated relationship with Mercy.

Mom's side of the family, made up of Mom and all of Natalie's sisters, were seen as kind. Healers, astronomers, some witches, some wizards, all loving and caring; they exuded mercy from themselves, helping everyone that was in their power to help.

“We're well off,” explained Mom, “So it's our duty to give to those who are more in need.”

Norah, Nat's eldest sister, had similar views:

“We can't just hoard our money. We have enough to live comfortably and to give away; it isn't one or the other.”

Mam's side of the family, though, made purely of Natalie and mam, the mother who birthed her, were both skilled duelists. And mercy didn't have much place in that line of work. Especially with Natalie's condition.

Mam explained as much…

“You're half Wraith. If you were half anything else, no one would care. But many opponents won't hesitate to kill you.”

Mam never told any of her OTHER daughters that, but, Mam wasn't teaching any of them how to duel. And none of them were half wraith.

It was while ruminating on this relationship with Mercy that Natalie got a knock on her door. It was weak, small...was it a mail rat? They were known for being...intrusive. But before Natalie could even give permission to enter the room, the door opened to reveal a rather sad sight.

Natalie's littlest sister, Charice. The little 10-year-old was well behaved, but known for causing Natalie some slight trouble with her mischief. But there was no knowing smirk on her ace this time, no glint in her eye or spring in her step. Just seemed to be...angry about something. She shut the door behind her, her arms crossed.

“I got a problem, Natalie, and I need your help.”

Natalie turned from her view out of the window and looked over, “Odd,” She started, “Did we start sharing rooms and Mom didn't tell me about it?” “Uuuuuugh, NAT!” Charice threw her hands down, throwing her head back, “I seriously need your help with something! It's...it's duel related.”

Natalie turned her chair fully to look at Charice, and crossed her legs. She placed her fingers together, like some crooked businesswoman.

“What Kind of duel related?”

Charice moved as she spoke, pacing and explaining her predicament.

“These kids at school keep bullying me for not being a good herbalist! I'm not even in the herbal school! I don't know WHAT school I wanna be in yet!”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I've tried EVERYTHING. I even snuck in here and stole that weird jar of red goop you had.”

“...that what?!”

“I splashed it on 'em and they didn't even die! They just smelled like paint.”

“y'know I'd usually be angry you took the nail polish,” Nat said, finally shifting in her seat, “But I'm honestly glad you didn't get your hands on my Dragon eye.”

Charice paused, looking over at Natalie with a look of serious concern. “...Can I borrow the-” “you are NOT using DRAGON EYE on some random kids who're bullying you. And you still owe me more nail polish.”

Charuce roaned, “Well then could you at least scare them off?! You got all kinds of weird stuff in your room!”

Natalie rose from her chair, “Just because I like to collect grim stuff doesn't mean you get to use it to scare kids.”

“Then what is it for?” “I...”

Before Natalie could answer that question, Charice was already gone on a new train of thought.

“Point is, I need you to scare some bullies.” “With dueling magic? That's dangerous.”

“Well...with a certain kiiiiind of dueling magic.”

Natalie looked on, quizzically, leaning forward. “You're not seriously suggesting...” Charice nodded, smiling, “It'd be cool!” Natalie shot up from her desk and took Charice by the hand. “No, Absolutely not, it's too dangerous.” Charice rolled her eyes, “Oh, come on! Just five seconds as a wraith? Please? No one will ever mess with me again!” “I SAID NO.” Natalie doubled down, placing Charice outside of the door. “A pendragon isn't a toy, Charice, it's a dangerous, horrible thing, and I don't want you getting tied up in it.”

Charice sighed. “Okay...”

Awwww, crap. Charice was still at that age where those little sibling eyes could get her anything she damn well wanted. Now, Natalie was not going to be swayed so easily by her, she wasn't gonna use a pendragon just because her kid sister said to.

But…

“There is...something...I have in mind...but if you tell Mom or Mam about it, you're dead. Hear me? Dead.”

Charice smiled up at her. “Deal.”

Charice knew what was going to happen...on her way home from school, she was gonna get picked on by the bigger kids who didn't like her for some reason. But this time, she had a trick up her sleeve. As she walked home, humming, the three older kids came out. As if on cue.

It was three older girls from some prep in town. Charice knew one of them was in the herbalism school, but not really what the other two did, or why they even hung around each other. They al looked so different…

“Sup, Gaine.” The ringleader, an older girl named Karina, often began the hunt like this. Her blond hair sat just below her neck, though it was often tied up. “Let me guess,” She continued, “You got some more nail polish for us?”

“Yeah, you still owe me a new shirt, Gaine.” The second girl, Theresa, was probably a healer judging by the red strip down her sleeve on the first day. Maybe.

The third was usually silent, but often intimidating. Charice hadn't even learned her name yet, like she'd ever need to.

“Ahhh, Karina! Theresa!...Third...third one!” Nailed it, Charice. “You should forgive me. I'm on my way home from a rather important duel.” “...what?” Asked Karina, her hands on her hips, “You're, like, 7 or something, how are YOU dueling?” She asked.

“Ahhh, y'know. When you're this skilled,” Charice went to a small button on the shoulder of her shirt, “It doesn't matter what age you are.” With a small flick and a humble but knowing smile, Charice revealed the most well decorated dueling cape any of the three girls had ever seen...raven black, with all sorts of stripes and patches on it. This was the shoulder cape of a true duelist, no random kid would have this many accolades.

“...woah...” Theresa looked on.

“...W-where'd you get those badges?” Asked the third girl, finally speaking up.

“Oh, what, THESE old things? Brammerlys I've won. This is my daily cape, I have a few of these.” She said, smirking, “Mainly, though, I get badges for fighting bullies.”

Suddenly, though no one else heard it, the girls heard a loud clap of thunder. The world was darkening around them, and all that was there was the glow of Charice's eyes. “you should count yourselves lucky,” she said, growing in size and meeting them at eye level, “I usually would have destroyed the three of you by now...but, y'know, I like to show little bit of mercy to people who aren't as good as me.”

That little angelic mile, and the world turned back to normal…

And the three girls just ran.

“Ha!” Natalie came out from behind a bush and took the cape button, putting it back into her pocket. “Glad they enchant those to fit the wearer...you did a good job.” Natalie said, ruffling Charice's hair.

Charice giggled, “I learned from the best!” She said. “Thanks for letting me borrow your cape...and sorry about almost making you use your pendragon on them.”

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with showing Mercy.' Natalie stretched a bit. “///you still owe me a new bottle of Nail Polish, though.”

Charice looked up, those little sibling eyes, yet again… “...Have some Mercy?” “...Not this time, Chari.” Natalie poked her forehead.

“Oof!”

2 notes · View notes

5sos-seavey · 5 years

Text

We Need More Space - Zach Herron

Zach Herron Imagine

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 1231

A/N: probably one of my favourite things i’ve written so i hope you like it :)

Tags: @caswinchester2000 / @zachheroin bc you asked for this so long ago lol sorry it took forever, @myrandom-fandomlife, @katie-avery

You and Zach got married a few months ago and have been living in your small one bedroom apartment, but recently you’ve found that you guys just don’t have enough space anymore, so you’ve started looking at houses. You’ve been looking for a couple weeks now with Zach, and just haven’t found the right fit. Sometimes Zach’s mom would come along with you guys, sometimes your mom would, and sometimes they’d both come and just take over like they were buying a house, but you two didn’t mind, you appreciated the help they didn’t have to offer. They also told you both that you have to FaceTime them if you found a place when they weren’t there. And today it was just you and Zach, you were looking at the first house of the day. It was a two bedroom, two and a half bathrooms, the only thing you didn’t really like was that it was a bungalow. “Babe, you usually love bungalows,” Zach tried to hide his small laugh. “Yeah I know, but this one, I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like us, you know,” you told Zach. “Okay, that’s fair I guess,” he responded.

“Do you know what the next one’s like?” you asked your realtor, Vanessa. “Yes, it’s also two bed, two and a half bath, and it’s two stories with an unfinished basement,” she told the both of you. “Oh that sounds nice,” you responded excitedly. “Actually can you give us a minute?” Zach said while the three of you were walking to your cars. “Of course, go ahead,” Vanessa said as she approached her car. “Zach, what’s wrong?” you asked him concerned. “I just wanna know why we’re only looking at houses with two or three rooms,” he spoke with an undertone of what you took as sadness. “What do you mean? We don’t need a lot of rooms, it’s just us.” “But it’s not going to be.” “Zach I’m not catching on,” you said to him with confusion in your voice. “Okay. We need a lot of rooms, maybe like four, or five even,” he finally spoke confidently. You were taken back and looked at him with even more confusion in your eyes, “hun, why do we need that many rooms?” He laughed at your response, “you think I’m not tryna have a bunch of babies with you Y/N, interesting.” You were shocked at his statement but then smiled, obviously you two had talked about having kids since before you were married, but it warmed your heart to hear him say that. “Aw Zach, honey that’s so sweet, I love you so much,” you leaned into him and hugged him and then pulled away to kiss him. You two smiled at each other and Zach said, “I love you too babe. Now, can we please look at houses with more rooms?” You laughed gently at his plea, “well yeah of course, let’s go talk to Vanessa,” you said as you reached for his hand to hold which he gladly gave you.

Once you told Vanessa about changing your plans for what kind of house you both wanted, she said to give her a day or two to find some to go look at that she thinks you’d both like. So, two days later you got a message from Vanessa saying, “we can start looking at new places in a few days because there’s some that I think are really in your taste that all have open houses in the same day. I have three days set in place to look at different houses if you need. I’ll see you soon!” You called for Zach who was in your bedroom and he came into the kitchen, “what’s up?” “Vanessa has some houses for us to look at in a few days!” “Yes! Finally I can get really excited,” then he made a worried face, “not that I wasn’t excited while we were looking before, but now we’ll be looking at places that we can be in for a long time with our family.” You smiled at him, and he returned it while leaning in for a quick peck.

The days came where you and Zach went to look at houses and there weren’t really any places that made either of you fall in love, until the third day you went. This house was two stories with a finished basement, five rooms (which Zach just loved) and three and a half bathrooms. While you both were looking at the house Zach would keep making the cutest comments. “Babe, babe! Babe! Can’t you just picture our future even better now!” “Y/N! Y/N! Y/N! This will be a first kid’s room since it’s the biggest and they’re the oldest!” You laughed at that one. You’re sure that comment was probably a personal one since he is the oldest of his siblings. When you got to the master bedroom though, that’s when you fell in love even more, probably finally reaching the level Zach was at. “Oh wow, Zach this is amazing,” you said so surprised while looking at the entire room that included a huge bathroom and an even better walk-in closet. Obviously, this wasn’t the only selling point for you though. What really sold you, besides the beauty of the house on its own, was Zach. He was absolutely thrilled. In every room he was already talking about where all the furniture would go and how he wanted neutral colours until your kids had a theme or design they wanted for their room. You constantly reminding him, while laughing, that when you first give birth, to these many children, they would be staying your bedroom and even when they do start sleeping in their rooms, they wouldn’t need full sized beds. But he would just wave his hand jokingly at you while he continued decorating and you laughed.

Once you were done looking around you, Zach and Vanessa went outside to discuss since you both so clearly loved the house. So Vanessa asked you both, “what are you guys thinking?” You and Zach turned to look at each other and had the biggest smiles on your faces and you gave an excited small nod. You both turned back to Vanessa and Zach spoke, “we love it! We want to put an offer on it!” And so you did and worked everything out over the next few days and finally your offer was accepted!

EIGHT YEARS LATER

You were pregnant with your and Zach’s fourth child. Your first three were 7 years old, 6 years old and 3 years old. You were sitting in the backyard watching Zach play with your two oldest while your littlest was sitting next to you, every so often going to play with Zach and the other two. Your hand placed on your stomach sitting there at peace with the life you have with Zach and your family. You looked up and saw that Zach was staring at you, smiling and you smiled back. He put his hand on his chest and tapped his heart then pointed at you with the biggest smile on his face and you knew he was just as happy as you, although that was never a doubt. Stilling smiling at each other, you did the same back to him before he went back to playing with your kids.

#zach herron #zach herron imagine #zach herron imagines #zach herron x reader #why dont we #why dont we imagine #why dont we imagines #why don't we #why don't we imagine #why don't we imagines #sams work

162 notes · View notes

in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

i need you to know that every once in a while i go back and read your whole responsible luther au from start to finish and like.... i would legit read 100k of that and still want more, i LOVE that entire concept to PIECES and just kdjdjfhfl thank you for elaborating on that plot so much

adsfdDFSGHF i’m v flattered i will admit I myself didn’t expect to become as fond as I have with that particular au lmao i think it’s a combo of the way luther in that au is generally unflappable and “same shit as always” and the family actually getting together and being an actual family

Not even the big family stuff either just the dumb little interactions

(posts for this au here: one, two, three, four, five, six)

Like Luther comes home from work, exhausted, walks in and the first thing he sees as he walks in is Diego standing at the open fridge drinking straight from the milk carton.

“Diego.” Luther states, halfway incredulous because come on, “Do I live in a frat house? There’s glasses in the cabinet to your right and I know you know that.”

“What do you know about frat houses?” Diego sneers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Not like any of us went to college, ‘les they give out degrees in sucking up.”

Luther presses his hands together and touches them to his mouth for a second of patience. “Diego,” He starts over, “What are you doing here?”

“Babysitting.” Diego shrugs, placing the milk back in the fridge and closing the door. Luther makes a mental note to buy more if only so that he doesn’t have to share in Diego’s gross mouth germs.

He can’t contain it. “For fu - is this what you do at home Diego? Do you even own glasses?”

Diego shrugs again, not even disguising the grin across his face. He likes pushing Luther’s buttons, like the absolute dick he is. “Just saving you on some washing up, Luth.” Diego informs him cheerfully, moving to pass him and clapping him on the shoulder in faux friendliness.

Luther is about to make an very inadvisable movement (that movement being grabbing Diego and tossing him across the room and maybe pouring out the rest of the milk on top of his smug little - ) when Five pops into the room in a flash of blue.

“Luther!” Luther’s favorite brother greets him enthusiastically as Klaus stumbles out of his bedroom, brandishing a bottle of nail polish like a weapon. Judging from Five’s half-done fingers, it’s clear what they were up to. Luther has a feeling he’s going to end up with nail polish on his coat in a hot second.

It’s more of a surprise when Vanya walks out of the room as well, sporting electric blue painted nails and looking mildly uncomfortable. Of course, mildly uncomfortable is pretty much Vanya’s default state so Luther doesn’t think anything of it.

“Hello Five, hello Klaus.” Luther greets his roommates, smile plastered on his face, “Hello people who do not live here.”

“You need to get more eggs.” Diego tells him, not even looking abashed at Luther’s implied reprimand. Which, considering Diego procured a key weeks ago (which Luther did not give him) might be a little fair. It’s not like Diego isn’t invited maybe 25% of the time.

“Klaus called.” Vanya admits, “He said Diego was being boring and I needed to come over before someone was murdered. Probably Klaus, if we’re being honest.”

“Hey!” Klaus protests automatically, before tilting his head to acknowledge the point.

“Luther!” Five tugs at Luther’s coat insistently as he’s been doing pretty much since they walked out of the bedroom.

Well, time to pay attention to the little monster. Luther reaches down and swings his littlest brother up into his arms, earning a shriek even though it’s a familiar move at this point.

“Ooh! Me too, me too!” Klaus crowds closer, making grabby hands. Luther sighs deeply but obliges, swinging Klaus up and over his shoulder easily and earning another delighted shriek. Luther wonders what it would be like without his super strength. Wonders how the rest of the world manages.

He ignores Diego’s look as he makes his way over to the couch, swaying both his brothers from side to side as they try and grab at one another. It’s a little bit like trying to balance a very tall stack of books with a wine glass on top - difficult but not exactly impossible. They certainly don’t try make it easier on him.

Having had enough, Luther calmly dumps both of them onto the couch.

Vanya strolls over and plucks the bottle of nail polish out of Klaus’s hands, circling the couch and nudging him over so she can sit by Five where she wordlessly unscrews the cap and reaches out a hand for Five to put his into. Apparently it’s nail painting time again.

“What did you want, Five?” Luther asks, amused as he collapses into the big thrift store armchair with a quiet oof.

“What’s for dinner?” Five asks, rolling his eyes.

Diego groans, “Ugh, that’s all he’s been asking for like, an hour.”

“I’m a growing boy!” Five protests, jerking his hands and earning himself a scolding shush from Vanya as the nail polish smears. She uses the corner of one of her own nails to clean it up a little.

“Growing sideways,” Diego teases, reaching a hand out to ruffle Five’s hair. Unfortunately, it seems Five anticipated the move and Diego narrowly avoids the snap of Five’s teeth and the resulting shit eating grin.

“Luther!” Diego sounds scandalized, gesturing at their grinning brother as Klaus laughs quietly to himself.

“Children, behave.” Luther deadpans.

“That’s what they say when we’re together!” Klaus immediately sings at the top of his lungs, making Vanya wince away and give him a look. Klaus shrugs unapologetically and she rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to her task.

“We should liberate Luther’s records from the house.” Five says, looking thoughtful.

“No one’s going to the house.” Luther vetoes, again. It’s like Five is just looking for excuses these days to suggest exploring the house for things.

“Maybe when Dad’s dead.” Diego says, finally coming around the sofa to sit in the last remaining armchair. Luther winces and doesn’t respond. As much as he doesn’t see eye to eye with Reginald these days - there’s still a part of him that loves the old man, even if therapy is making him see more and more that the feeling wasn’t exactly returned.

“God,” Klaus sighs, throwing his head back dramatically, “If you had my powers you wouldn’t be wishing for the old man’s death, ugh.”

The family shares a collective wince as they remember that for Klaus, harassment from their father wasn’t exactly something that stopped with his death.

“Aw, don’t look so glum! Ben here has promised to be my guard chihuahua.” Klaus informs them all cheerfully after noticing the long faces. He turns his face to the side, where it’s probably Ben exists. “What? Chihuahuas have a great and noble history! You should be flattered! What? Wait, Ben, no - ”

The rest of the family decides to move on as Klaus devolves into a whispered half-conversation with their dearly departed sibling. It drives them all crazy that they can’t hear one half of the conversation.

“You never said what’s for dinner.” Five points out, just a little petulantly. Vanya gives him a gentle nudge as reprimand for moving too much, but she’s finishing up with the last nail anyway so it’s not terribly important.

Luther really doesn’t feel like cooking. Mainly because he’s really bad at it. He looks over at Vanya, who is the only person who has been keeping them all from eating like freshman college students and getting scurvy, but she’s studiously examining her job on Five’s nails. Clearly she doesn’t exactly feel like cooking, either.

“Chinese?” Luther offers, hopeful.

Five pulls a face, but Klaus brightens up, head snapping around from his little argument. Luther’s hope dies in his chest. Feeding their whole family is an adventure in juggling - how their Mom fed them all for so many years without snapping in half from bending over backwards to please everyone.

Then again, it’s not like any of them had the choice to refuse their food in their father’s house no matter personal preference. It was wolf it down regardless of taste or starve and potentially faint during training.

But there is one thing they can all agree on. t’s just a last resort because Luther is so very tired of having it every other night but hey, when needs must, right?

“Pizza?” Luther offers and everyone sort of nods and hums their agreement at that. Luther knows all of their orders by heart at this point. Even Diego “my body is a temple” Hargreeves doesn’t say no to pizza, usually.

“You know, we could make it slightly healthier and make our own?” Vanya points out, but it’s only halfhearted. “I heard you can make the crust with cauliflower or something.”

“You think we have cauliflower in this house?” Five asks with an arched eyebrow, and Vanya concedes the point. Luther feels almost offended at the implications about the state of health food in his place, but it’s also a fair point so. No like he can rebuff it.

“Pizza it is.” Luther states firmly before this can devolve into an actual debate on the state of their dinner.

He gets up to go grab his phone and can hear the sound of a fight breaking out behind him, Klaus’s voice being the loudest. Luther had so hoped Vanya sitting there would have prevented the inevitable but she was in on the shenanigans far more often than Luther would have expected.

(Sometimes he wondered what their childhoods would have looked like if Vanya had been more included. He had suspicions that she would have never been on his side in an argument, anyway.)

Luther shakes his head as he punches in the number for the pizza place. For a few minutes that mess in the living room is not his problem.

Of course, a few minutes of peace never lasts for very long. Not in this family.

269 notes · View notes

tardisbadwolfrose · 5 years

Text

For a Sister’s Sake

Based on a tumblr request by anonymous.

Want to send me a request? Just ask!

Read it on AO3!

Number One liked to think that, at seven whole years old, he knew exactly what his role was in this world. He had to listen to his father, and obey orders, and above all else, protect his family.

Protect Number Two, even when he tried to fight him, protect Number Three, even when she used her powers to make him leave her alone, protect Number Four, who was innocent and naive and too sweet and too trusting, protect Number Five, who always insisted he was fine, protect Number Six, even if the monster in his chest did a pretty good job of that, and protect Number Seven, who was powerful, but weak and tiny and even sweeter than Number Four and would probably let herself be snapped like a twig if it meant she didn’t have to hurt anyone.

She hadn’t always been like that, Number One remembered. He had a pretty good memory, or so Mom told him, and he remembered when she used to use her powers and lash out when she didn’t get her way. Then, Father had one of his “serious talks” with her, one of the ones that he never got, but she did all the time, and Number One wasn’t sure what happened, but he knew Father made sure Seven understood what it meant to hurt people, and after that, Seven never hurt another person ever again. (At least, not on purpose.)

Number One knew that they were all the same age, but he also knew that all of the siblings still thought of him as the oldest and Seven as the the youngest, and they all had this rule that they’d protect her, because she was the littlest and needed it, and also because they knew that she’d protect them if she needed to, even if it did mean hurting people.

So yeah. Number One knew a lot of things.

What he didn’t know was why he was hearing banging coming from downstairs at midnight.

He spent a whole entire minute trying to decide whether or not to go downstairs and check it out, but he decided that it might be an intruder and got up a quietly as he could, following the noises down to a room he’d never thought existed before.

It was cold and big, he noticed, with blank metal walls and no decoration, aside from shattered vases and rubble that once must have been boulders and glimmering glass dust lining the walls. And there, in the center of the room, was his father and little Number Seven.

She was wearing headphones and a look of great pain, and he was watching with delight as he continued to twist a dial on a machine the headphones were connected too. The air around his sister shimmered with her barely contained powers, and her hands were bloody where her nails had bit into her palms.

Before he realized what he was doing, Number One was calling for his father to stop.

“She’s in pain! Stop!”

Reginald Hargreeves stood, his delight morphing to rage, and Number One suddenly understood why Four, Six, and Seven always looked at him in such fear.

“Number One! How dare you leave your bed without permission!” Father snapped. He didn’t make any move to turn off the device, however, a fact that made One quite upset.

“I heard noises and thought it was an intruder,” Number One argued. “Why won’t you turn off the device? It’s hurting her!”

“And how dare you question my methods!”

One shrunk back from the criticism, but then he caught sight of tears glimmering on Seven’s face and a hint of blood trickling from under the headphones, and any illusion that his Father was doing the right thing shattered.

He wasn’t sure what happened next, just that he saw red and then, suddenly, Father was unconscious on the floor, his fist hurt, and he was pulling the headphones away from his sister’s head. He tossed them onto the ground, then stomped on them, trying to stop the high pitching wailing he could now hear from the device. It took a couple of tries, but he succeeded, and a blissful look overtook his sister’s face.

“Are you okay?” He asked her quietly, but she didn’t respond, eyes closed and hands covering her bloody ears.

He was angry, he realized as he took in Seven’s pain. Angry at his father, which was a very new feeling. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with it, but he’d always thought Father’s methods, while perhaps cruel, were necessary, and now he was looking at the situation and wondering in what world would it ever be? How could it be necessary to do this to your own child-- to any child? To little Number Seven, so sweet and quiet and compliant and eager to please?

She sniffled, and he gently reached out to help guide her out of the room, and to Mom. He hated to interrupt her recharging cycle, but Seven had yet to respond to a single one of his questions, only whispering out a hoarse “thank you” before falling completely silent, and her ears were still bleeding, and her nose was now too, and she was still crying and he didn’t know what to do.

Nothing in their father’s training could have prepared him for what to do when the person he had to protect his siblings from was him.

It was times like these when he wished their mom was more human, wasn’t just programming, because she was business-like in treating Seven, and refused to admit that their father had done something wrong, even when she admitted that his sister’s hearing might be damaged permanently. When he thought about it though, he really wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say-- usually, the reassurance that his father was a good man would have been enough to make him see the best of the situation. In that moment, though, all it was doing was making him even more angry.

How could what One had seen be the actions of a good man?

He needed a plan, he thought. Father was going to wake up eventually, and he’d be mad. Number One’s first instinct was to run away, to take Seven and go far, far away from the Academy, but that brought up questions like “what do I do with the others-- can I really just leave them here?” and “how do we survive on our own?” and “how can seven seven-year-olds go unnoticed?” (Because in the end, he knew he’d never leave everyone else at home.)

He fell asleep holding onto Seven’s hand at her bedside before he’d finished trying to answer the questions. When he and his sister woke up, it was to his father, standing with Number Three in front of him.

Number One didn’t have time to warn her to stay away from their father before she was speaking.

“I heard a rumor you both forgot about everything that happened last night.”

Number One liked to think that, at seven whole years old, he knew exactly what his role was in this world. He had to listen to his father, and obey orders, and above all else, protect his family.

Read it on AO3!

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfiction #fanfiction #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #luther is a good bro #reginald hargreeves a+ parenting #vanya needs a hug #vanya deserved better #tumblr request

25 notes · View notes

cinnamonsugarsheith-blog · 6 years

Text

Haven

Pairings: Sheith, BG allurance

Rating: Mature

Warnings/Notes: Werewolf/Vampire AU. vampires so blood stuff, implied character death, werewolf courtship, this got weirdly plotty and I don’t want to talk about it, werewolves don’t mess with clothes, twisted for my own use lore, Alpha wolfs, mating, Vampire Sire/Fledgling mmmm yep.

When Shiro wakes up he reeks of stale vampire blood. His neck and abdomen are coated in it. He's doesn't recognize the cabin he's in or the cot he's on, but there's an unopened bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin sitting neatly atop a set of jeans and a thick flannel on the nightstand. Socks and boots sat on the floor below.

"You should be safe here until your pack find you" the note next to it reads.

As if he is going to wait for his pack to find him to leave.

He crumples the note and stumbles into the bathroom. He looks like shit. "The hell did I get into?"

He cleans up, nose crinkling at the scent of the blood and sweat he's caked in. At least the water works in this place.

He noses into the flannel, trying to figure out who brought him here. He vaguely remembered running with Matt and Pidge to his left, and then they split up to surround something. A doe if the scent was right. And then there was a fight and a hunter and there... The smell was on the flannel too... Burnt pine and sorghum and the faint hollow scent of death than clung to vampires and something else he couldn’t discern. Why would a vampire bring him here? This had to be a trap. And he needed to find Matt and Pidge. Before the vampire’s nest did.

He tugged on the clothes in a hurry. Thankfully it was near nightfall again. He was deep in the woods now, but not so far that he couldn't make out the river nestled in the crux of the foothills that would lead him back to town.

So he started off. As soon as the stars rose he'd be able to adjust to get back to their home more easily. He was hesitant when he got to the quiet little farmhouse. There was a light on in the kitchen and he could hear their cow mooing in the field. That was a good sign at least. When he crept onto the front porch Black and Rover rubbed against his ankles. He could hear Katie yelling inside and felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he stepped across Hunks ward barrier. Hunk had old fae blood somewhere in his family and his protective charms had been invaluable in keeping their secrets secret. He wasn't a wolf, but he was definitely pack.

He had just barely gotten his fingers on the door when it opened. Katie launched herself at him. "What happened to you!?" He patted her back, letting her hang off him as he stepped through the threshold. He offered Matt and Hunk a smile and nodded a head towards the living room where he settled onto the worn sofa, the littlest packmember resituating herself into his lap. Matt curled up to his left, throwing his arms around Shiro and his little sister.

"We thought they got you too..."

Shiro could hear the tears caught in Matt's throat.

"I don't know what happened." He kissed the top of Katie's head and rested his forehead against Matt's. "But I'm here. I'm safe..."

Hunk brought in a tray with mugs of coffee and tea and cocoa and sat down on Shiro's right. Katie quietly moved herself out of Shiro's lap to snuggle against her brother's side.

Shiro took a cup of coffee. "Do you know what happened?"

"Pidge saw more than me," Matt admitted.

She told him about the huge Hunter who had pounced on him. How she and Matt we're on the edge of a clearing when a vampire blurred out of nowhere and told them to run, there were more coming. She had told him to get away and he'd said you would be safe Shiro... And they had to leave and I was so scared I thought it was gonna be like mom and dad...

Shiro shushed her gently. "It's okay. I'm here. You and Matt did exactly what I would have wanted you to."

She took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Katie, do you know what the vampire looked like?" He needed to know what he was dealing with. Why he woke up covered in a vampires blood. Why he'd been saved.

She shrugged. "It was dark. He was short for a vampire. Black jeans, red shirt, ummm black hair, real shaggy. Really dark eyes. They weren't that weird bright blue that vamps always are…

Shiro patted her head in thanks. "And everything here is safe?"

Matt and Hunk nodded.

"Good. I'm gonna shower. And then I want to sleep. Bed?"

Shiro showers the last of the smell of blood off of him. He'll still be smelling it for days. He looks longingly at the prosthetic he'd left on the dresser before he shifted last night, but knew his pack needed the comfort of him shifted now. He tosses his towel in the hamper and rolls his shoulders, letting the energy of the mostly full moon guide his shift until he dropped to all three and shook his body fully.

When he goes to the den Matt and Pidge are curled up together under one of Hunks arms. Pidges snout is tucked under Matt's and Shiro is sure her boney legs are jabbing his soft belly. He situates himself over them, his head on Matt's hip and his tail curled around the siblings heads. Hunk reaches out and sets a hand atop his head, thumbing over the white spot there with a magic of calm that he seemed to instill in everything he touched even though he tended to be a nervous wreck.

"I'm so glad you came back, Shiro. Matt and Pidge... They need you." The 'I need you' was left unspoken, but Shiro nuzzled the inside of his wrist. He understood. He needed them too.

-o-

"What in blazes were you thinking?! He could have killed you, Keith!"

"Allura, he was gonna kill him. Hunters like Sendak are dangerous to us too. We can't just let them--"

"Dude, Allura's right you put the whole nest at risk. What if his pack had come after us?!"

"Well they didn't, did they, Lance?"

"All right. All right. Everybody settle down. It wasn't the smartest decision, but we are okay. Let's get some rest for today and talk about it tomorrow evening? Hmmm?"

"That's an excellent idea, Coran." Allura pulled a pin from her hair and let it fall down her back. "Come along, Lance."

"Just go to bed. Don't make any other rash decisions." Lance glared.

Keith rolled his eyes and stalked off to his room. He was... New at this. The vampire thing. He didn't know who turned him or what exactly happened, but Allura and Lance had found him wandering the streets, sick as sin and not sure what was happening to him. By the time Coran had gotten him back to good health, he wouldn't have even known his name if not for the school ID in his wallet. Kogane, Keith 10th grade Balmera High School The Keith in the picture had a crooked unsure smile and his hair fell into his eyes. He had on a hoodie and a red t-shirt. He didn't know who that Keith was, but at least he still liked red... And figured he'd been 15 or 16 when he'd been turned. But no matter how many times he googled himself, it was like he didn't exist except for that.

Coran suggest he may have been a ward off the state. He decided it didn't matter much anyways now.

And the four of them tried to stay out of that vampire-werewolf turf war shit. They left wolves along, wolves left them alone. But that didn't mean they should let them get killed... Hunters were dangerous to all of them. Wolves, Vamps, Fae. Didn't make much sense to Keith.

Plus. Something about that wolf... Keith could tell from his size he was the pack’s alpha. And it was a full moon, so the others had to be nearby. But that meant the forest was full of hunters out searching for them and vamps out searching to settle scores in the stupid rivalry.

Their nest had had a few close calls with Sendak before, and when Keith saw him attack the wolf. Well. He didn't have any issue settling a score with a hunter. When he appeared two copper colored wolves had jumped out of the brush, and he'd yelled. For some reason they listened... And he had been able to mail Sendak and escape. But not without almost getting killed himself. The wolf was heavy, but he'd managed to get him settled on the cot in the cabin and wipe off some of the blood he'd gotten on him. It was a lost cause with his furred form though. He set out clothes and had left. He needed to feed so he could heal. Besides he'd said he was going on a walk. The nest was probably looking for him since sunrise wasn't far off at this point.

But of course, now he just dreamt of giant black three legged wolves chasing him. It was a fitful rest.

Shiro and Matt and Hunk work at a bar. A wolf haven. "The Den," it's called. It’s filled with smoke and musk and the owner, an old Alpha by the name of Kolivan let's Pidge do her homework in the office while they're on shift. They know 14 is old enough to be home alone, but it's hard with all the trouble that's stirred up around town lately.

He was wary about hiring a part fae, but the customers loved Hunk's cooking, and with his bouncer (Shiro) and bartender (Matt) claiming him as pack there wasn't much he could do but let it happen.

When Shiro and Matt came to ask him if he'd heard about a little vamp with dark hair and eyes, he honestly didn't know, but he said he would ask around. Half the patrons had their vamp tallys tattooed on them. Someone was bound to know something.

Of course, all he needed to do was ask his packmate Thace to send his partner Ulaz a text.

The Marmora were the most secret of secret between the feuding monster clans. Wolves and Fae and Vampires working as a team to take down hunter factions and dangerous groups of their own that threatened to expose them to humans.

Some things are better left unknown but to a few.

Ulaz didn't know anything, but said he'd keep his ears open.

Shiro had Katie hack into the security feeds at the local blood banks, hospitals, and other vamp hot spots. Wandered the streets trying to catch a whiff of burnt pine.

He needed to know why him and if his pack was at risk.

"Maybe you should let it go?" Hunk said one day.

"Not until I know you're all safe," Shiro insisted

"Katie said he was short. What if he's just a kid? Doesn't know shit?" Matt tipped his chair back a.bit so he was balancing on the back legs.

"Just cause he looks like a kid doesn't mean his is one. Vamps don't age normal like we do," Katie piped up from behind her textbook.

"Guess that's true."

"Whoever he was he wanted me to wait for my pack. It seems too much like a trap."

"Yeah..." The other three sighed together.

"We could always go back to the cabin?"

"Absolutely not."

"But Shiro--"

"No, Katie."

She growled softly in response but dropped it in favor of shoving another forkful of potatoes into her mouth.

"I could call Lance?" Hunk said quietly.

"Dude, that's a worse idea than going back to the cabin!"

"He doesn't have to know I'm pack." Hunk looked to Shiro now. "I could just say a friend saw something weird. Wanted to make sure nothing crazy was happening..."

Shiro looked thoughtful for a minute. "He would smell us on you."

"I haven't actually seen him in years... Just a call. His number may not even work anymore to be honest... Just so we can try to get you an answer. I want to lay this to rest..."

Katie snorted. "Pun unintended?"

Hunk smacked his forehead. "Shit. Uh yeah. Definitely unintended."

Shiro shoved the peas around his plate like they were going to help him make up his mind.

"Yeah... We will skip town for a few days. He hasn't seen you in years. He'll want to visit your grandma... The farm..."

"I promise it'll be okay." Hunk put his hand over Shiro's.

-o-

"Hey, Thace"

"Hey kid, you got our order ready?"

"Yup, it's all here. Threw in a couple of good cuts for that magical chef you're always on about." Keith hefted the box into the back of Thace's SUV. There were already crates of produce stowed in the back seats.

"I'll be sure to tell him!" Thace reached out to ruffle Keith's hair. He was definitely a runaway, but he seemed sweet. If Thace thought he had any intention of sticking around longer than the summer he'd be trying to pick him up for The Den.

Keith knew Thace was a wolf. But he gave Keith that fond smile that Keith thought dads were supposed to give to their kids. Coran always gave it to Allura anyways, and even though he wasn't her dad he was close enough. He'd turned her.

"Same time next week, right?"

"Yeah, want me to look out for anything for you?"

"Nah, but here." Thace handed him a $20. "Come by the bar sometime. On me. I'm sure Hunk would love to meet our supplier."

Keith stuffed the bill into his blood spattered apron pocket and gave him a sloppy salute. "Sure thing." He ducked back into the back door of the butcher shop and sighed heavily. Wolves were so friendly. Coran and Allura and even Lance we're great but there was a lot of... boundaries. They never touch each other aside from Allura and Lance. And Lance was her fledgling so it was acceptable. Coran occasionally touched Allura, but only for the briefest of moments now that she had a fledgling of her own. He'd touch Lance and Keith too, but only if necessary. Clinically. Not like how Thace ruffled his hair and clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed the back of his neck. It was nice.

He could never see Thace not cloaked in the scent of animal blood though. He'd know what he was. And even though Keith didn't have anything against wolves, he didn't know if Thace had something against Vamps.

"That's the last pick up, you guys good?" He called to the guys up front. He gathered his things after their noncommittal agreeances and headed back to the airbnb they were using as their nesting grounds.

Allura and Coran weren't back from their shift at the blood bank yet and the note on the whiteboard said Lance was going to be late from the boats. So that left him on his own.

So when he heard a cell phone ring it surprised him. He found Lance's phone wedged between the couch cushions and debated on answering for half a second before his thumb clicked accept.

"Lance?" It was a soothing male voice. "I'm surprised your number still works buddy! How have you been?"

"Ah... Actually, Lance forgot his phone. I'm Keith. His...um. Roommate?" He hadn't meant it as a question, but it had come out that way.

"Oh" the voice on the other end snickered "Roommate. Got it. Well, roommate Keith, I'm Hunk. Lance and I go way back!! I was gonna ask him a quick question. See if there was..." He paused "um.. anyone /new/ in town. A friend saw something kinda weird around Nana's old folks home, just want to know if I need to /add on some extra layers of protection/ or anything. Ya know, man?"

Yeah. Keith know exactly what he meant. Hunk was a fae. He knew about Lance. Wanted to know If Lance knew something.

"Yeah man, I'll ask him to call you. I hope your friend is okay. Shit’s been weird around here lately."

"Yeah man you're tellin me. Thanks for passing it along man!"

The line clicked close.

-o-

The first thing Keith notices when they pile out of Allura's Buick is that this is it smells like cinnamon rolls. Hunk ushers them all into the old farmhouse and ever surface in the kitchen is covered in cookies or rolls or bread of some sort. He urges them to tuck in, which they all do.

"This is Allura, and Coran, and mullet hair is Keith." Lance's shoulders are tight when Hunk hugs him warmly. "So what happened? I can't believe Nana's in a home man, I'm sorry to hear that. You by yourself here now?"

Keith crunched into a crusty roll and wished food tasted as good as it smelled. Everything smelled amazing.

"Well I have some roommates but they're with family for the weekend. And yeah. It's been. Couple of years now. But anyways yeah." He explained how one of the nurses had seen this guy just appear out of nowhere in their court yard and then she had blinked and he was gone. Keith didn't pay much attention.

"I mean, short with dark hair could be anyone... I don't really know anyone new around. We tend to keep to ourselves." Lance gave him a sheepish grin.

"Nah man, I knew it was kind of a long shot!! No worries. I know stuff’s been weird and us fae are always out of the loop. Figured it just didn't hurt to ask."

They finished out the day with Hunk showing them Kaltenecker and the hen house and his garden. He sent them home with eggs and a basket of peppers and corn and tomatoes and Keith found himself fascinated by Hunks free warmth.

Maybe it was a fae thing? But when Hunk hugged all four of them without question he hoped they visited again.

Shiro got out of the old pickup and knew.

"He was here?!" He grabbed Hunks shoulder harder than he meant to.

"Dude, yeah I told you he was gonna come visit?"

"Not Lance."

Hunk shifted uncomfortably. "Well I mean he wanted me to meet his... What's the parent vampire called again?"

"Hunk."

"His nest came with him I didn't want to say no and he get spooked!!"

"Who was with him?"

"Shiro, man, ease up." Matt put his hand on one of Shiro's.

Shiros hands dropped to his sides. "He was here. The one from the cabin."

"What does that mean?"

"The vampire who took Shiro to that cabin is in Lance's nest," Katie mumbled.

"I need you to tell me everything."

-o-

"Hey Kolivan? Ulaz thinks he has a lead on a fledgling." Thace sunk into the single extra chair in his alphas office.

"Yeah, kid who disappeared from a football game last year. According to one of our Fae who's in with the hunters he was sighted during an attack on the full moon."

"Which Fae?"

"Krolia."

"How does she know it's him?"

"Apparently it's her kid."

"Fuck.”

-o-

"He smells like burnt pine and sorghum."

"What's sorghum?"

"It's... Kinda like molasses?"

"So kinda like Hunk?"

Shiro frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe a little. Hunk smells bright. He smells richer, darker."

"So like Jack versus Brandy?" Matt supplied.

"Yeah."

"Okay but I don't drink so that doesn't help." Katie put her forehead on the table.

"You'll understand."

"Hunk, ask Lance to come over again."

"Alone?"

"His sire and hers are older. I don't want to tangle with them if we can avoid it."

"They work as nurses at a blood bank... Maybe he can invite them over when they have a drive going on?" Katie suggested.

"Good idea." Shiro gave her a smile.

"Guess we can tell Kolivan we got it covered then?"

"No we may need his help... He and Thace are strong. If things go wrong, I want them on our side."

-o-

"You were right to involve us, Shiro." Kolivan nodded in approval. "There's rumors of a fledgling that matches the description of the vampire you're looking for. He also appears to be... Important to an associate."

"What do you mean?" Matt asked.

Kolivan and Thace shared a look. "We know your pack tries to stay out of the fray entirely, so if we tell you this..."

Shiro answered without hesitation. "If it means my packs safety then I'll do it."

Thace huffed a laugh.

"You've heard of the Marmora?"

"What?! No way!! My Nana told me stories about them as a kid!!" Hunk basically yelled.

"Well. Sometimes fairy tales are real..."

"So what do you want from us?" Matt asked, skeptical.

"An alliance."

"Deal."

"Shiro--"

"I said deal. We know his name is Keith and he's a member of the Altea-Smythe nest. What do you know?"

"He's a fledgling, the Altea-Smythe nest is much like your pack. Small. Keeps to themselves. The vampire you're looking for is half Fae."

"That's so cool!!" Hunk was gushing again.

"But the older two?"

"The older two are more dangerous. Your Lance seems to be the younger sire’s first fledgling, but she is quite old. According to our source the older sire changed her at her father's request when she was quite sickly."

"Who is this Keith's sire? Aren't sires usually..." Shiro waved his hand.

"Like Alphas?" Thace laughed. "It's not the same. Alphas are compelled to protect their pack. Sires protect their own progeny."

"So where was his sire when he almost bled out stashing me in a cabin in the woods?"

"That is the question of the evening." Thace shrugged. "No one seems to know who his sire is, so their no way of knowing."

-o-

"Who even drinks this shit?" Keith grimaced at the case of PBR he was tasked with carrying up the steps to the farmhouse.

"Dude, PBR is a delicacy."

"Are you sure you just can't taste for shit? Hunks a good cook. He's definitely going to side with me."

Lance rang the doorbell and shouted "HUNK! YOU HAVE A DEBATE TO SETTLE OUT HERE!"

Something in the back of keith's mind piped up. Hunk... Wasn't that...

"Fuck!"

And then everything was burning and the world went black.

-o-

"The fuck..." Keiths head throbbed.

"How did you not smell it on him?!"

A woman and... Mmmm. Fucking shit. He could smell Lance's blood. Thace? That was definitely Thace.

"He was always covered in blood how was I supposed to know?!"

He took another steady breath. Cinnamon. Hunk. And there was something like linen and scotch... And a similar scent... But with carmel...

What what did they hit him with. He hadn't been this fucked up since he'd been turned.

"Hey guys, he's waking up."

That was definitely a girl.

And then a firm hand gripped his chin.

Smokey Maple and snow and...

The alpha he'd left at the cabin.

"I'm Shiro, and you're going to tell me everything, Keith."

He blinked slowly, trying to get six grey eyes to merge back into two.

"A thanks would be nice..." He rasped.

"Sorry, man, I think my wards may have been a little too strong. I wanted to be sure we would have enough time..."

A giant alpha put a hand on Hunks shoulder, quieting him. "Keith, we have some questions. We won't hurt you or Lance as long as you're honest."

"You won't hurt him period." The woman spoke. She had short dark hair and Keith could practically see the fae magic emanating from her.

"You know we will do what we need to." The only vampire besides he and Lance spoke up. He hadn't even realized he was there before.

"Take them upstairs," the large alpha gestured at the older of the two wolves that were clearly related. The copper ones he'd seen in the woods maybe?

He and Lance were tied to fold up chairs in what he guessed from the river rock walls was the basement of the farm house. The ceilings were low and the two dangling unshaded light bulbs threw a harsh glare over everything. It was just the two alphas now.

Lance muttered a bunch of curse words as the footsteps on rickety wooden stairs woke him

"Hey man, don't know what the fuck you got us into this time, but it's definitely your fault," he hissed at Lance.

Lance coughed a weak "fuck off mullet"

"Last full moon you saved a Wolf from a Hunter." The taller one approached Keith. "Why?"

"So not my fault!" Lance huffed.

"Because he was set up and Sendak's a piece of shit."

"The hunter. Sendak is the Hunter." Lance explained, rolling his eyes. " Keith here is new to this shit, so he doesn't--"

"Like you're more than two months older you fucking--"

"Quiet."

They glared at each other.

"You know Sendak?"

"Hell yeah. Piece of shit has been hunting us since two towns over." Lance groused.

"He's been hunting my pack for a while now too." Shiro flexed his prosthetic hand. "He's why I have this. Why my pack is two short."

"Yeah, well, happy to help or whatever. I wasn't trying to hurt you." Keith's voice was thick. "Or your pack." He added.

"How do we know you aren't lying?" Shiro looked like he hated asking.

"Uuuuuugh." Lance groaned.

"I don't know you, you don't know me. But no one likes that creep. I figure it's common ground."

"He is his mother's son."

"You know my mother?"

"I didn't think you recognized her."

"Dude he wouldn't know his name if he hadn't had a school ID in his wallet when we found him wandering the rail yard."

"Thanks, Lance. Real sympathetic of you."

"Krolia!"

Light steps came downstairs and the woman from before cupped his chin when she got close enough. "Keith..."

A wave of her hands and the itching feeling that bordered on painful over his body stopped, the last of the wards released.

She pulled him up from the chair slowly. "We have a lot to talk about."

"How do I know this isn't made up to get me to cooperate or whatever?"

"Same way we know you aren't lying about why you helped Shiro," she quipped.

Keith frowned.

She waved her hands again and Lance fell forward, being released. Keith offered him a hand, but he didn't take it, pushing off his knees instead.

"Well. I guess that's a start." Keith looked back at the woman, Krolia.

"I know it's difficult to understand, but you never should have been able to be turned... I left you, and that left you vulnerable. But I'm not leaving you again. I'm sorry, Keith." She held her hand out to him.

Keith looked between Lance, arms crossed and face suspicious.

"You can't possibly be his mom. If he's fae, he wouldn't be able to be turned."

The bigger of the wolves stepped forward. "It's possible, rare and dangerous, but it's possible."

"How?" Shiro asked.

Keith startled. When the hell had he gotten that close to him?

"By another vampire who has Fae blood," he explained.

"There aren't many..." Krolia looked at him.

"Lance, how long ago did your nest find Keith?"

"About six months..."

Krolia growled.

"Lotor."

They were herded upstairs where Hunk flung himself at Lance, bawling.

Lance patted his back and teased him about having a pack.

Keith took a glass of tea from the girl -- "Katie, unless I'm Pidge, thanks for... Saving Shiro." -- and settled on the couch between her and the woman claiming to be his mother. The bald vampire was hip to hip with Thace in front of the fire place, Kolivan just to their left. Lance had peeled Hunk away from him and was slouching in a chair and Shiro stood behind the other end of the couch where the girls brother sat with Hunk at his feet.

"Call your Sire." Kolivan gestured at Lance.

"Not until you tell us who the heck Lotor is and what we are supposed to do about all of this."

Kolivan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nothing. You need to go back to your nest."

"No," Keith protested. "If he's who changed me then I have a right to know, don't I?"

Kolivan, Krolia, Thace, and the strange vampire all looked at him with a chorus of "Nos"

"I think he does." Shiro challenged. He put a hand on Keith's shoulder. "What makes Fae Vampires so special that he's making more, if they're so difficult to turn?"

"Fae have to be drained completely before they're turned. It usually doesn't work because the timing between when the body is drained and can be turned is short. Usually it's just death." Krolia sighed. "You're lucky, Keith..."

"Okay..." He sure as shit didn't feel lucky.

"Usually when they turn they..." Krolia grimaced.

"They aren't the same after they turn." Kolivan supplied. "They attack."

"Keith isn't all Fae. That much be why..."

"What else am I?!" Keith wasn't really sure how many more surprises he could take.

"Your father was human. I'm fae. Now you're a vampire."

"Kid." Thace looked him square in the face and he was suddenly thankful for Shiro's hand still on his shoulder, grounding him. "You're whatever you want to be, but I think you should think about being Marmora."

Krolia and Kolivan started yelling at him at the same time. "What's Marmora?"

"Magic spies," Katie mumbled next to him. She stood up and walked out.

Lance followed her and Hunk followed him. Matt shrugged and looked at Keith. They both stood and followed the rest of the younger half of their group.

"Hey," Shiro's hand fell on his shoulder as he was about the join the others on the porch. "I um... Wanted to properly introduce myself--"

"You're Shiro, I have to tell you everything I know," he mocked back the words Shiro had growled at him when he woke up in the basement, tilting his chin defiantly.

"Yeah... I'm sorry." He had the decency to look sheepish. "It's ah... An alpha thing...."

Keith gave him a crooked smile. "You said you'd lost some of your pack... And thought I was a threat. I get it."

"Well I appreciate that. And I wanted to properly thank you for saving me." And the Keith was scooped up into a hug that was warmer than anything he could remember experiencing. "Thank you for helping me.. my pack." He released the vampire. "You were hurt. Are you...?"

"I heal fast."

"What happened?"

Keith pulled his shirt collar to the side to reveal a neatly knitted scar over his shoulder and collar bone. He smirked. It was a pretty impressive scar.

Shiro flushed dark red. "Keith!" He grabbed the hand pulling at his shirt collar, sputtering. "That um. Sorry. Your shoulder is. That's a /thing/."

"Thing?"

Shiro let go of his hands. "Its... Um... Like flirting."

"Oh." Keith blushed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, you uh... Didn't know." He let go of Keith's hands abruptly. "I didn't mean to grab you, I know... Vampires don't like that."

"I do."

They locked eyes and Keith stammered, realizing how that sounded.

"I don't mind... The touching... I mean."

"Yeah?" Shiro's eyes lit up a little before he clapped a hand on Keith's shoulder. "Cmon, Matt's going to make jokes for days if we don't join them."

-o-

Keith was unintentionally distancing himself from his nest over the next month. Much to his mother's chagrin he had determined the Marmora were a good fit for him, and as a result most of his things had migrated to Thace and Ulaz's spare bedroom.

Lance and Hunk’s friendship had rekindled despite Allura's hesitance to fraternize with wolves and Allura was slowly forming a tentative friendship with Katie as the lone women of their respective families.

And Shiro found himself drawn more and more to the quiet early morning meetings in Kolivan’s office where Thace and Ulace would squish themselves into the lone armchair while Krolia perched on the corner of the desk and Keith would sit with his back pressed against the door and his arm against Shiro's. Shiro was still drawn to his smell even though he knew who Keith was now. And when they mingled during their meetings, it always made what the Holts would call his “inner puppy” wriggle with delight.

Shiro knew he had a crush. He just didn't know what to do about it. He hadn't found himself attracted to anyone since before he'd gotten attacked by Sendak.

But Keith was... Refreshing. He was young and sometimes painfully blunt and kind and he didn't seem to care a single but about speciation which gave Shiro more hope than he cared to admit.

Plus he fit in so well with his pack, and his nest was starting to as well... Hunk and Lance we're friends, and Coran simply adored the farm. Had all sorts of stories about his families in England that hunk and Katie ate up. Allura was... Polite. She seemed to want to mentor Katie. She kept Lance and Matt in check too which was nice. Matt and Keith and Lance seemed to love to antagonize each other, and though he knew Keith understood none of it, he was always happy to keep Katie company while she did her school work and shuttle Hunk's snacks between her space and the kitchen for her.

It was simple and harmonious and he wanted to cement it.... But he didn't want to scare them away either.

So he did the only thing he could think of-- asked Krolia for permission.

"Absolutely not."

"I--"

"You may not court my son."

Shiro swallowed down his growl. "May I ask for your reasoning?"

"He's Marmora."

"You had a son... You must have had a..." He blanked on the fae word.

"No. There were stolen moments between assignments. Keith was a mistake. I left him with his father because I wanted him to be safe. If his father couldn't when he was an infant, you certainly won't be able to now that he's Marmora."

Shiro could feel another growl rising. "What if Lotor’s gone?"

"It's awfully bold to think that you'll be able to do what the Marmora have been trying to for years."

And that was how Shiro found himself at the dining room table with Coran and Katie discussing the intricacies of tracking a Sire.

"It would be easier if you knew of all his fledglings." Coran had suggested initially after hearing his predicament. "But since he only seems to try to turn Fae and most of them simply attack until they're disposed of by law enforcement that will be difficult."

"Too bad you don't have a scent to track. That would be the easy way."

Coran thought for a moment, and then started counting back on his fingers.

"Katie that's brilliant! We don't track by scent, but you do!!!"

She looked confused for a moment.

"Fledgling's bodies take close to a year to fully mature. Until then they carry their sire’s blood! It's why Matt sometimes has trouble telling Allura and Lance appart by scent. It's the same for you and Matt with us. You're related."

"Keith's blood will smell like Lotor until he fully matures!" She pieced the information together.

Keith agreed without hesitation and readily cut open the back of his forearm for the pack to get the scent. Shiro recognized it as the too sweet rotting scent mixed with ozone he'd been covered in at the cabin. Tomorrow they would begin hunting.

That night Shiro couldn't sleep. They were all curled up together in their den, but he couldn't get his mind off the prospect of finding the vampire who had turned Keith. He got up, carefully slipping out of the room and padding out to the porch.

He figured Keith was probably having trouble reconciling things too, but he didn't actually think he'd find him. But there Keith was, curled up on the porch swing and looking at the stars. Shiro padded over quietly, giving a soft wuff to get Keith's attention.

"Hey Shiro," Keith gave a soft smile and patted the swing. "Can't sleep either?"

Shiro hopped up and shook his head.

"I haven't seen you up close like this since then... Can I..?" He reached up hesitantly towards Shiro's head.

Shiro ducked down, pushing the top of his head under Keith's hand.

"Soft...This is okay right? Not ah... Too personal or anything?"

Shiro gave another soft wuff, leaning into Keith's pets. It was, actually. No one but pack did this. But Shiro really wanted Keith to be.

"I forgot how big you were as a wolf."

Even as a wolf Shiro was bigger than Keith. The throw blanket around Keith's shoulder slipped down Shiro let out a slight growl and nosed at the bandage around Keith's forearm.

"Oh... Yeah. I uh. Haven't fed today. Makes it hard to heal."

Shiro had shifted back within the minute.

"Then you need to feed."

Keith was staring silently.

And then Shiro followed his eyes. Shiro was nude.

"Oh."

Keith quickly handed him the throw blanket. And Shiro pulled it over his lap.

"Um. What... Do you need to eat?"

Keith raised an eyebrow. "I'm a....?"

"Oh!!!" Shiro blushed. "Blood. Right. Well. Um..." He took a deep breath and raised his wrist towards Keith. "I don't know if it's... But I dont..."

"You don't what?" Keith took Shiro's hand gently.

Shiros face was impossibly red. "His smell... I don't like his smell on you... And with that not healed."

"Oh." Keith's jaw flexed uncomfortably. "I can uh... I can go hunt. It's okay."

"No!"

Shiro grabbed Keith's wrist.

"Let me do this for you..."

Shiro stood, drawing Keith close.

"You're already going to find him..." Keith could feel the blood pulsing under Shiro's skin, his heart beating. It was quick and warm and... Shiro smelled good.

"Please? It's nothing to me."

"Remember... When I showed you my scar on my neck? From that night?" Keith looked up, hand over the scar and expression caused between amused and embarrassed. "This is for me like that was for you...?"

Shiro ducked his head down and pressed his forehead and nose to Keith's.

"I know..."

Keith inhaled sharply. "You're... Sure?"

Shiro pulled Keith back towards the swing, tucking the blanket more securely around his waist.

"Let me do this for you?"

Keith snorted softly and leaned over Shiro on the swing, one knee between Shiro's thighs and the other foot planted firmly on the ground. "My nest is sleeping in your pack’s home and we are going to be hunting my sire tomorrow. I'd say you've done enough... I can seriously go pick off some drunk coming home from a bar..."

Shiro bristled at that. "No."

Keith snickered. "No?"

"Keith..." Shiro tilted his head to the side. "I'd really rather you didn't."

Ugh why did Shiro have to be to cutely possessive and accommodating and oh his hand was definitely on the small of Keiths back and Keith leaned forward. He brushed his lips over Shiro's pulse on his neck, skimming down until he found a smaller, less lethal vein. He found one just under Shiro's collar bone and licked his lips.

He pulled back. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Keith bent his head down and let his fangs drop, sinking through skin and just nicking the edge of the vein Keith had found. He pulled them back slowly, letting his mouth fill with Shiro's blood.

Shiro gave the barest of flinches and sighed a breath before bringing his hand up to the back of Keith's head.

"That's it, baby... Drink. I've got you."

Keith made a choked noise and Shiro felt him press closer. He could understand why this was so intimate. He hoped Keith would forgive his boldness in the morning.

"Well, it's nice to see my progeny and I share a love for intermingling of species."

Keith pulled away with a start, fangs dropped again in a bloody snarl at being disturbed during a feed.

"Now that's no way to talk to your sire, little one." A man with long white hair and yellow eyes was walking towards the house.

Shiro flung the blanket aside and was transformed in an instant. He leapt off the porch, putting himself between Keith and the man who couldn't have been anyone but Lotor. Shiro growled loudly. The overly sweet smell of rot was coming off him in waves.

"You had no right!"

"Silence." Lotor waved a hand at Keith dismissively and walked straight for Shiro. "You know, I've never turned a were. Want to find out what happens?" He lunged at Shiro.

Shiro jumped to the side and circled with Lotor, looking between him and Keith. Keith took the moment to react, leaping forward and grabbing for Lotor, only narrowly missing, but giving Lotor the opportunity to shove him forward into Shiro.

"Well you've certainly developed faster than usual. Most of my fledglings couldn't dream of catching me at your age, and you were... Close."

Keith ran a hand into the ruff of Shiro's fur and glared. "What do you want with me?!"

"To create harmony between the species. Vampires, Wolves, Fae, even humans. To create as many hybrids as I can and allow us to stop squandering in secrecy like rats."

"If vampires and wolves can't get along, how can you expect all four?!" Keith shot back

"Now... Child. Your name is Keith, right? It's so hard to keep track these days with all the weaklings who die... That's why I've chosen the fae. No one minds them. They're peaceful and few. Unthreatening. And their powers cross all bloodlines."

Shiro growled and lunged again, Keith at his side. Keith at least managed to punch him in the jaw before Lotor danced out of reach again.

"I'll say, you have at least chosen a worthy partner."

Shiro wished Lotor wasn't The Bad Guy for a second, so he could have asked him for permission to court Keith instead of Krolia.

He whirled and snapped at the man's leg, distracting him enough for Keith to catch him off guard and shove Lotor toward the porch, where Hunk and Krolia had tailored a slew of wards to their weird new pack-nest.

Shiro instantly understood and rushed the man before he could catch on too. When Lotor reached up to steady himself on the porch it looked like a lightning bolt had struck him. He tensed and slumped to the ground. Shiro shifted and stepped back to Keith, paying no heed to his nudity or the blood clotting on his chest.

He leaned down with absolutely no pretense and caught Keith in a searing kiss. "Go inside. Get Allura, Coran, and Matt," he whispered against Keith's lips when he pulled back.

Keith nodded, pupils blown wide, and ran into the house without question, bare feet stumbling on the dew wet grass. Shiro hauled Lotor up by the back of his shirt collar and pulled him up the stairs. Matt was the first to the door, halting mid shift when he saw Shiro wasn't in need of that sort oh help. His tail swished slyly as he took in the punctures on his alpha, but wisely kept his comments to himself until Shiro looked less like he wanted to rip something to shreds. Allura and Coran rushed out next, Lance and Keith not far behind. Coran and Matt got Lotor secured in the basement while Allura called Kolivan and Shiro went to put on sweatpants and a shirt. Hunk and Katie had joined Lance and Keith in the kitchen. When Shiro rejoined them, he took Keith's bandaged forearm and pulled the wrapping off, making sure the cut had sealed.

"Thanks"

Shiro closed him in a hug that Keith returned hesitantly, hyper-aware of everyone else in the room. "You did it for me..."

-o- It didn't take long for the Marmora to arrive.

Krolia frowned when she took in the way Shiro kept touching Keith. A brush of fingers on his hip, calves and arms settled against each other as they leaned against the counter, hands not bothering to move away from each other during incidental touches.

"We did what you couldn't." Keith levelled the four adults with a look as they entered the kitchen.

"Keith and I did what you couldn't." It was hard for Shiro not to smirk at the glare Krolia was giving him.

Kolivan and Ulaz ignored the posturing in favor of following Coran and Allura to the basement. Krolia looked at Keith like she wanted to say something, but stalked after them instead.

Thace congratulated them with an easy smile and a ruffle to Keith's hair. He winked at Shiro before following too.

Allura came back up shortly, muttering angrily under her breath, and grabbing Lance's arm, dragging him up the stairs to the loft they were staying in.

"You should get some rest as well." Shiro addressed his pack. "Take Keith with you."

Keith started to protest but the look Shiro gave him didn't leave any room, and the Holts were already dragging him along anyways.

Hunk flopped into the giant bed and was tackled by Katie. "C'mon Keith. New pack gets the middle. That's the best." She shucked her nightgown over her head mid transformation, he assumed to give him some sense of propriety, before the little copper wolf he had been directed to call Pidge pawed impatiently. He was really going to have to get used to the nudity that seemed to come with werewolves.

"Pidge don't lie you always get the middle and Hunk is definitely newer." Matt groused as he tossed his shorts on top of his sister's nightgown. Keith tried not to stare as he transformed, but it was so strange. Looked painful.

"Nah I get too hot." Hunk reached out to ruffle the fur between both of their ears. "C'mon Keith. Shiro says you're in here tonight."

Keith sat on the side of the bed opposite Hunk and was pounced on by the smaller Holt.

"She's just excited to have someone close to her size." Hunk laughed. "Matt's trying to convince her she's done growing."

Matt leaned over and licked up the side of Hunk face.

"Gross, man." He wiped at his face.

Keith tried to make himself comfortable and quickly found himself at the bottom of a pile of fur. Hunk smiled and shut off the light.

"Don't worry," he laughed again, "we don't bite."

"Haha so funny."

He could hear Hunk smile. "I thought it was"

He couldn't recall when he'd fallen asleep, or when Shiro had come in, but waking up surrounded by warm and pack with Shiro's heavy head on his shoulder and breath huffing softly against his neck was something he would remember forever. He'd never felt this much... This was pack.

He let himself relax in it until Shiro woke and nosed his sleeping pack off Keith, urging him to get up and follow the massive black wolf. Shiro padded over to a pile of laundry and nosed out a pair of mostly clean sweatpants before leaving the room. Keith followed, turning to give Shiro some privacy when he shifted to dress in the empty kitchen.

"Lotor's gone."

Keith poured out the remnants of yesterday's coffee and started filling it up to make a new pot. He wasn't sure he wanted the details.

"Keith? I want to court you."

His breath hitched. He wasn't sure if it had all been the adrenaline last night or not.

"I... Asked Krolia. And she said no."

Keith turned to look at him, mildly annoyed that he'd asked his mother.

"She said I wouldn't be able to protect you from him. You didn't need it."

Keith didn't know what to say to that.

"You're strong and kind and... amazing."

Well now he was definitely blushing. "Shiro... I.."

"Courtship is... Serious Keith. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't sure."

Shiro was like home. What he thought home should be anyways. Warm and safe and protective and Keith had to admit he liked his pack. He'd never quite fit in with the nest... And maybe...

He tipped his neck to the side and gave Shiro what he hoped was a playful look. "I'll let you try."

Shiro growled softly and stepped into his space, nosing into Keith's neck almost like Keith had done to him the night before.

"Tease."

Keith grinned, relaxing his shoulder further, but shifting just far enough away from Shiro to get skin contact. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You want to skip courtship and go strai--"

"Morning lovebirds." Lance shuffled into the kitchen, stretching.

Keith was glad Shiro seemed to have endless reserves of patience because he leaned in to kiss Keith, soft, but solid under his jawline, before pulling away and giving Lance a bright smile.

"Shove it, Lance." Keith turned around, still between Shiro's arms and finished setting up the coffee pot like it was nothing out of the ordinary to do so with a huge alpha wolf boxing him in against the counter.

Lance shrugged and plopped down at the table. "Think Hunk will kill me if I cut into the cinnamon rolls he stashed in the oven before he warms them?"

"What are you, an animal?" Matt was plopping into the chair beside him. "Yaaaas Keith-trucker-coffee is the best." He groaned as the drip started.

Shiro and Lance both grimaced.

"I'm inclined to agree." Allura and Coran were shuffling in now. Allura leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Lance's head.

"The Marmora leave last night?" Hunk asked as he finally came into the kitchen, yawning widely. Katie was koalaed on his back, but he deposited her next to her brother.

"Early this morning." Coran corrected

"So what now?" Keith asked what everyone was thinking.

They'd all become accustomed to being in each other's space the past month.

"Shiro and I discussed it last night. We think it would be in our best interests to form a Haven," Allura supplied.

"Haven?"

"A Haven is a collective of werewolves and vampires that functions as a combined pack or nest unit," Coran supplied. "In my fledgling years in England they were quite common."

"The Marmora is one."

"Would ours get a cool name?"

"I don't think that's the point, Lance..."

"We were thinking Voltron." Shiro did his best to keep from watching Keith directly the entire time.

"Sounds cool to me." Katie shrugged. "But we are gonna have to rearrange the house."

They spent the next several hours hashing out where they would need to rearrange bedrooms, simple ground rules, and making sure everyone understood the implications of what they were choosing to do. They hedged a more lengthy discussion on household duties and responsibilities within the haven, but stopped short of anything permanent. It was clear without being said explicitly that Allura and Shiro were in charge and that the groups safety was incredibly important to both of them.

Eventually the wolves had to leave for work at the bar and Coran and Allura were blessedly on a night rotation, leaving the three youngest, Lance, Keith, and Katie to watch shitty horror movies eat popcorn and drink the case of PBR they'd found stashed under a sink from when they'd been ambushed.

"So what exactly did I interrupt this morning?" Lance asks after his third beer.

"Dunno. Shiro wants to court me? Which is I thought he'd been doing but I think it's a wolf thing?" He'd only gotten half way through his second and Lance was pestering him about it.

"Definitely a wolf thing, mom." Katie grinned before pounding her fifth.

"Don't get cocky with your weird wolf metabolism." Lance pouted.

"Mom?"

"'mean Shiro's our Alpha. If you go through with it you'd be mated. Basically his spouse." She shrugged.

"So what....does it involve?" Keith asked. Lance leaned in too, equally curious.

"It's not too far off from human dating. Gifts, showing off to prove you'll be a good partner, wolves are very tactile, so body language and touching is important. I mean he kinda skipped straight to the end though, having you sleep with the pack." She curled in on herself a little. "That's really big and it's supposed to be one of the later official steps if you're courting outside your pack..."

"What about bearing your neck?"

And at that she turned a pretty comical shade of fuschia. She took another long drink before answering. "That's basically asking for sex."

It was Keith's turn to flush. Okay so maybe he had accidentally been more forward than he meant to be.

"Awww did Keith accidentally ask Shiro to screw in were?" Lance cackled.

Katie snickered too. "He totally did."

"Fuck off. Both of you."

"Keithers I'm the werewolf encyclopedia and even if you don't remember it I think it's a safe bet that Lance has dated more than you. Utilize your resources."

When the real adults returned Keith was spooning Pidge on the couch and Lance was sprawled out on the floor, all three were passed out and reeked of shitty beer

Matt and Hunk hauled Lance to what was now his and Allura's bedroom and headed back towards the den where Shiro was depositing Katie onto the middle of the bed while a half-asleep Keith clambered into the other side.

Shiro practically wriggled in excitement when Keith shucked off his t-shirt and repositioned himself around Pidge, perfectly for Shiro to spoon behind him. When Shiro leaned down, Keith dropped his shoulder down just a little, and Shiro pressed a soft kiss above his ear. "Tease" he huffed and pressed himself close.

Keith mumbled something that Shiro thought was "not in front of the kids" before he was completely out.

Matt and Hunk were a tangle of limbs and knowing smirks on the other side of the bed and Shiro avoided making eye contact with either of them in favor of over thinking about the way Keith's hip felt like the perfect place to rest his hand.

As they eased into the new routine with double the people in the house, it was clear that Shiro was going to be in Keith's space At All Times. And if he wasn't, then one of the other wolves was. It became increasingly difficult for him to slip away to feed, and Keith knew it was becoming noticeable.

So when Hunk caught him taking what had to have been his third nap of the day, empty coffee cup balanced precariously on the arm of the chair he was curled up in, of course he had brought it up to Lance.

Lance rolled his eyes and told Hunk Keith was prioritizing them needing to be near him for this courtship stuff over his health.

Shiro was Not Happy.

And that was why Keith was curled up on his lap, looking thoroughly admonished as he drank from Shiro's wrist.

He had insisted that he could just go hunt, but Shiro had none of it, wrapping his arms solidly around Keith and anchoring him down in a way that would have much different implications had Keith not been so exhausted.

"How often do you need to feed?" Shiro had pressed gentle kisses to his temple.

Keith pulled away. "Every few days... Not as much as I am... Right now."

"We can take care of that." Shiro was practically pouting.

Keith gave him a questioning look, but lowered his mouth back to the sluggishly bleeding punctures on Shiro's wrist.

"The pack. There are four of us..."

Keith squirmed just a little. He couldn't ask that....

"I don't like when you come home from hunts. You smell like others. It's not safe." Shiro shifted to pull Keith a little closer. "We want to take care of you."

Keith knew Shiro was giving him puppy eyes. Damn wolf. He wasn't going to be able to say no.

"Just try it?"

He gave one last lick to Shiro's wrist. "Fine. But if it's too much we call it off immediately."

Hunk had been the first to offer, two days later. They'd both felt a little strange, curled up close on the couch. Hunk asked a dozen questions, nervous, but determined. He'd given Keith a woozy smile afterwards, and had thrown up when Keith returned the gesture, teeth stained red.

Matt and Katie had come to him a few days after that. Katie insisted despite Matt's protests of being the big brother that she would go first and made herself comfortable snuggled up behind Keith while he fed from her arm slung around him loosely.

Matt ruffled his hair when he watched the two tiny pinholes on his sister's arm close up. "You come get me when you're hungry, okay, man?"

And he had, hesitantly. Matt made too many jokes to try to make himself seem less nervous and Keith prodded his ribs to get him to actually calm down. "If you're nervous, it tastes bad."

Matt had launched into a series of questions about the possible effects of different hormones and physiological responses on blood palatability that Keith mostly ignored, nodding along periodically.

Shiros tasted the best anyways.

He knew that Shiro knew that he was "up next" and he was going to wait for Shiro to come to him.

Shiro did, after four days, and had bodily dragged Keith to what he was stubbornly calling their room. Keith let him, enjoying the strong arm around his waist and being pulled up and kissed gently on the forehead was nice, but he had noticed Shiro's formal Courting was leaving them both a little frustrated otherwise.

Luckily Keith had become an expert in getting Shiro to shakily call him a tease. He just had to find Shiro's limit.

"You want my wrist?"

Keith kissed him instead of answering, rough and biting. Shiro groaned and he felt his fingers twitch on his hips.

Keith pulled Shiro's head back. Exposing the column of his neck and started planting wet kisses down one of the pulsing arteries. Shiro pulled his shirt off, giving Keith the space he needed to find a place, clearly not wanting his wrist.

Keith ran his thumb across the spot where he'd first bit Shiro, and shoved the wolf onto his back.

"Baby--"

Keith hushed him with more kisses down his chest, nuzzling into the soft skin below his navel.

Shiro reached down and burried one hand in Keith's hair and started shoving at the waist band of his sweats with the other.

Keith grinned and stopped him, bringing the other hand to join the metal one in his hair.

He kissed a line over to Shiro's hip, drinking in the soft groans and "baby"s he was panting. Poor alpha. Keith nosed against his hip bone, feeling the quick pulse of arousal thrum through the man below him. His thumb caught into the crease of his other leg and Shiro let out a broken moan as he bit down into the skin of Shiro's hip and drank.

Two days later Shiro finally could approach him without turning bright red again. He'd spent two nights snuggled between Hunk and Matt and he was all too pleased with himself.

"That was dirty."

Keith shrugged, hiding his smile behind his coffee.

"I swear I haven't done that since I was a kid..."

"Vampires can tend to have that effect on people. Weres too I guess. Nothing to be ashamed of." Keith surveyed the thoroughly embarrassed man on the couch next to him.

"Okay but I'm not 12, and I was clearly reading too much into it."

Even his ears were red. Maybe he'd pushed too far...? Well shit.

"Shiro, we are courting, I should have asked you before doing something like that."

"I liked it..."

Keith snorted. "Well clearly." He made a vague gesture at Shiro's pants.

"Ass."

"I thought I was baby?"

They both caught each other's eye and dissolved into laughter.

"Can't wait to make you my mate." Shiro snuggled into Keith's hair. They'd launched into something half way between wrestling and a tickle fight (because Keith fought dirty, as Shiro had already discovered.) And were lazing on the couch, waiting for the rest of the Haven to return to the farmhouse.

"What's stopping you?" Keith asked.

"You're so young... And Krolia would never approve."

"Technically. I'm a Vampire. You should be asking Lotor. And since he's out of the picture, Allura." Keith corrected. "But since I've fed from you, and I sleep with your pack and you let me pet you full furred and--"

Shiro put a hand over Keith's growing smile. He was going to kill Katie and Lance.

Keith gently pushed the hand away and sat up, motioning for Shiro to do the same. Shiro let Keith situate himself in his lap, facing away, and inhaled sharply when he began carding his hair so it fell away from his neck.

Keith began unbuttoning his shirt and shrugged half way out of it, fully exposing his neck and shoulder to Shiro.

"I want this..." His voice was low and thick. "I don't care who says what or what stupid rules we are breaking... I love you, and your pack, and my nest and this... All of this."

"You're sure?" Shiro felt stunned. Keith was too perfect.

"Please?"

Shiro leaned down, pressing kisses to the pale skin of Keith's shoulder before growling softly and biting down to mark his mate.

Omake:

"Oooooh yeah, right there."

"Like that?"

Shiro keened a loud 'yeeeeeees.'

"You're so sensitive."

"Please?"

"OKAY WE GET THAT YOU'RE MATED NOW BUT--" all the wind left Lance and Matt's sails as they actually surveyed the couple.

Shiro was partially shifted, just enough that his ears and tail were wolf, and Keith's hands were both cupped softly around them, scratching.

"What the hell did you think was happening?! We are in the living room for fucks sake!" Keith growled at them.

"Ah..." They looked at each other for excuses before running out of the room.

#APU this is koshiroganes faul #I actually hate this trope #vld au #vld sheith #sheith #sheith parade #sheith au #vampires and werewolves

13 notes · View notes

sitkowskiryan · 6 years

Text

their sickly first kiss. [joshler]

If he had to do it over again, he would not change one thing. It, after all, had led to the best day of his life.

This all started at the tender age of eleven, his first day of middle school. The brunet boy had never been more excited to go to school. It was unusual for a child at his age to be excited for school, but you see he was not like the other children. He had been home schooled through primary school and would have gone all the way to his high school graduation if his mother had her way. Obviously Kelly had not gotten her way since he was now standing outside of his history class too shy to walk in just yet. Despite his nerves, he was glad that his mother had not gotten her way.

Kelly was worried about her son, he was her first baby and this was his first time being away from her for more than a few hours at a time with no one he knew. She had begged her husband, Chris, to “please let him stay home, just one more year!” But the patriarch was determined to see his son have a normal childhood. It was abnormal for a child to only be friends with their siblings and no other kids in the neighborhood. Chris would never forget how his son had longingly looked out the window during one of his wife’s lesson at the kids getting off the school bus. It was then that he decided that his eldest was going to go to middle school when the time came.

This leads to where the eldest son is standing now, with the late bell ringing startling him out of his thoughts. Of course he would be late on the first day of class! The door squeaked as he pushed it open and he internally winced as all the eyes turned towards him. Being homeschooled had caused him to have rather severe shyness and anxiety, even at eleven. This anxiety buzzing around in his head tuned out the teacher as she shared his name with the class and other information that he had no clue how she knew.

“Why don’t you go sit back with Joshua? Joshua, raise your hand,” the small brunet boy made his way towards the curly hair boy who raised his hand towards the back of the room. He, like the other students, was wearing a crisp uniform of a plain white shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes, and a simple red tie. Only this ‘Joshua’ had a small pin on the collar of his shirt. It was an alien, he realized once he was seated. The pin was black and the alien’s eyes were white. It matched with the uniform perfectly, but he had the sneaking suspicion that if the teacher knew what Joshua had on his collar, she would take it and maybe even send him to the principal. He had very limited knowledge of how schools actually worked outside of TV shows.

“Pssst, hey,” a soft voice sounded next to the brunet, a pointy elbow knocking into his own for a second before it went back to its own desk. He glanced at the boy next to him and made a small ‘hmm’ noise to let him know that he was listening without attracting the attention from the teacher. “My names Joshua Dun, but you can call me Josh. What’s your name?” The kid, Josh, already knew his name, seeing as the teacher had announced it to the classroom without his permission, but maybe he wanted to make sure he was actually not an alien?

“Tyler, Tyler Joseph,” the brunet smiled politely. The grin he got back was well worth the step out of his comfort zone and giving away his name. This was the start of a beautiful friendship.

It was two years later when their friendship shifted. That fateful exchange of names had led to Josh and Tyler spending all of their time together. They were always together. Their parents expected to have the other to be with their son every day. If you found Josh, you found Tyler and vice versa. They were inseparable. The only time in those two years that they were separated was the day that Josh showed up with a bloody nose and a black eye. Tyler remembers was if it was a part of his body.

“Josh? What the hell?!” Tyler had shouted, the thirteen-year-old staring at his best friend as if he was one of Josh’s beloved aliens. It had been the one day that Tyler stayed home because he was too sick to go to school. He had been texting Josh all day long, but he had not said anything about someone fighting him. “Come here,” Tyler demanded, reaching out towards Josh, the other boy moving towards his friend. He winced when the clammy fingers touched his face, not from the feeling of them but from the pain in his face. “What happened?” Tyler whispered, shifting and letting out a soft groan at the soreness of his body.

“Some guys jumped me after school, it’s fine Ty. Do you need anything?” The older boy – only by a few months – asked, running his own fingers through Tyler’s sweaty curls. It was not normal behavior for adolescent boys, but Josh and Tyler had never been normal. Not with Tyler’s homeschool experience and Josh’s anxiety with others. The two depended on the other for a lot seeing as they were each other’s only friends. Tyler snapped back to the present when Josh’s thumb stroked his cheekbone to get him focus.

“No, mama said something ‘bout soup ‘while ago,” his voice was nasally, but Josh seemed to be able to follow along well enough. “Why’d they jump you?” Tyler asked shyly, hand reaching up to wrap around Josh’s wrist, though not moving his hand from his hair. Josh sighed gently, knowing that Tyler was not going to drop the subject. The older boy went to speak, but the clicking of a door had him burying his face into Tyler’s shoulder. If Kelly saw him with a busted nose she would tell his parents and inform the school. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Oh! Josh honey, I didn’t even know you were here. You are going to get sick though,” she said, taking in the sight of Josh curled against her eldest chest. Tyler tangled his fingers into Josh’s curls and held him closer.

“He had a rough day, mom.” Tyler explained loosely, staring at his mother pointedly. She frowned in concern and looked down at the other boy before placing the bowl of soup on Tyler’s beside table. She stopped for a brief minute to pat his head before leaving the room, the door clicking close behind her. Josh pulled back, frowning at the bit of blood that was left on Tyler’s shirt from his face. He reached for the soup and took a quick sip from the corner of the bowl before handing it over to Tyler. The chocolate eyes stared at Josh’s mocha ones waiting for him to start talking.

“They had said something about you being,” Josh paused for a second, looking down at his slacks and picking a loose thread that was hanging from them. Tyler ate his soup quietly, not wanting to interrupt Josh’s story. “Gay.” Hearing that word had Tyler’s back straightening and he let out a slight whimper. Josh’s fingers reassuringly stroked his hair. “Kept calling you my boyfriend and stuff like that and so I stood up for you and said we were just friends.” Tyler had no idea why that confession had hurt more than being called gay. His parents were more accepting than others and he knew that being gay was not bad, but still not many boys his age were. Being called gay was still a slur that hurt most of the boys his age and made them defensive. “One thing led to another and I ended up telling them that I was bi,” Josh paused when Tyler made a confused noise in the back of his throat.

“What’s that?” Tyler asked gently, not sure what Josh meant by the word or if it was a bad one.

“Bi?” At Tyler’s nod, Josh let a small smile slip on his face before continuing. “Bisexual. It is when you love boy boys and girls. Though I think I may like boys more than girls.” Josh admitted shyly, once more looking down at his pants. Tyler sat confused for a second, trying to process the information. Josh liked boys? There was something other than straight and gay? You could like both? His sick addled mind was swimming. “Apparently they think bi is a synonym for gay and beat me up. Don’t worry, I caught a few lucky punches as well,” Josh smiled, his lips and teeth a bit red from the blood that had spilled from his nose. Tyler had never thought he looked handsomer.

“You can like both?” Tyler asked, looking down at his soup, spoon moving around the noodles within. Josh looked over Tyler as the brunet distractedly pushed around his soup. Even in the littlest activities and sick Tyler still looked beautiful to him. Tyler was everything that Josh was not, but instead of feeling envious, Josh felt complete. Tyler completed him and the puzzle piece that was missing.

“Of course you can Ty, there are no rules on love,” Josh said gently, watching as the sick boy raised his head to scan Josh’s face. He could see hope in Tyler’s eyes and maybe even a bit of astonishment.

“Can I try something?” Tyler whispered, gently setting his soup to the side and shifting closer to Josh. Upon seeing his wince, Josh moved closer for Tyler so he wouldn’t tire himself out more. Now sitting a couple inches away from each other, the two stared at each other. It was a game of chicken to see who would make the first move. Josh finally nodded his head at Tyler’s question, realizing that maybe that is what Tyler is waiting for. And sure enough the younger boy tilted his head forward. It felt like slow motion.

To say that either of them forgot the taste of blood and chicken noodle soup to this day would be a lie. And to say that Josh regret getting sick the next day was an absolute lie. He would not have changed a thing about that day.

ØØØØØØ

hey guys! i hope you like this! i think it is really cute and stuff, but i'm not sure if people in my class will like it! oh well! i love it! if you wanna talk to me or ask for any plots or situations, send me an ask on my tumblr, scarycis

comments really keep me going guys so let me know what you guys think!

#joshler #Twenty One Pilots #top #josh dun #tyler joseph #fluff #gay fanfiction #oneshot #joshler oneshot #joshler fluff #scarycis

2 notes · View notes

xfilescat · 6 years

Text

lights (steve harrington x henderson!reader)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: completely rushed and not proofread! but nothing else.

preview: it’s 12:21 am on christmas eve and i’m too lazy to find a part of this to be the preview so basically this is just fluff i’m sorry

A/N: this is sososo rushed and i’m so sorry it’s so short and bad but I really wanted to post something for christmas! merry christmas if you celebrate it, my friends! ily :)

You’ve never been so glad that it’s Friday in your entire life. Since it’s late December and Christmas break starts Monday, your teachers have been inundating you with lengthy papers, research projects, and unit exams in a last-ditch attempt to get some more numbers in the grade book. You don’t know how you survived all of that on top of everything that happened back in November, but somehow you made it through without injury and with (most of) your sanity. You’ve been half channel-surfing, half cat-napping since you got home a few hours ago, and you’re in the middle of one of said naps when your little brother strides into the room.

“Y/N?”

When you don’t respond, Dustin walks over and shakes your shoulder. “Y/N!”

“Five more minutes,” you mutter, rolling over so your face is pressed into the back of the couch.

“You’ve been lying there for four hours.”

“Not long enough.”

“There were a couple times where you were so out cold that I considered checking your pulse to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“‘To die, to sleep—to sleep, perchance to dream….’”

“What?”

“Hamlet,” you murmur, pulling the old afghan hanging over the back of the couch onto your head.

He chuckles. “You’re the only person I know who quotes Shakespeare when she’s half asleep.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a compli—you know what? Nevermind. I have a question.” He lifts the blanket off of you. With a heavy sigh, you stretch languidly and sit up to face him. You notice that he’s wringing his hands like he only does when he’s nervous. That’s kind of a red flag: the last time he was anxious about telling you something, you ended up learning about the Upside Down and all of the horrors that came along with it. This can’t be about that, can it? You sit up taller.

“Do you—do you wanna come drive around and look at Christmas lights?”

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in. “Wait, really? That’s it?”

His face, which had been adorned by a cautiously hopeful expression, falls instantly. “It’s stupid, I know. You don’t have to come.”

You rush to correct yourself. “Oh, no, Dustin, that’s not what I meant at all! No, I definitely want to go. You just caught me by surprise.”

He sighs in relief. “Oh, okay, good. Do you remember how we used to do it every year?”

You nod, smiling softly. Driving around to see all of the lights used to be your favorite family tradition. You’d each bring a blanket, squeeze into the front seat of your father’s pickup truck, and cruise around town listening to Christmas music and taking in each house’s decor. The heater didn’t work well in the truck, which necessitated the blankets, but you don’t remember ever being cold. In fact, those drives were some of the only times everything felt completely warm and peaceful in your family: mom and dad didn’t argue and you and Dustin didn’t bicker like siblings usually do. All you did was listen to the music and look at the lights, and it always made you feel like everything might just turn out alright. You miss that feeling more than you can ever admit to your mother.

After your dad left, she rushed to make everything feel normal again by filling your lives with distractions, like a new cat named Mews or hockey lessons for Dustin or countless books for you. Old family traditions that would never be the same without your father, however, were a lot harder to distract from, so they were replaced by new ones. Thus, the annual drives became annual Christmas movie nights when the three of you would stay up past midnight curled up on the couch in front of the TV.

Dustin was only 7 when this shift occurred, so while you knew that dad leaving hit him hard, you never realized that he might miss the old times just as much as you do. You found it highly unlikely that your mom would want to take you guys out, though. While you know she’d do anything for you two, you remember asking to go out on the drive before the first Christmas with just the three of you. She said the car was acting up and quickly turned on “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and you decided not to ask again. She was going through enough and you didn’t want to force her into anything that might make her sad. “Who’s gonna take us, Dustin? I’m a terrible driver when there’s even the littlest bit of snow on the ground, and mom’s not gonna want to go.”

“I know, I know. Steve said he’d take us.”

Once again, Dustin surprises you. “Wait, what? Really?”

“Yeah, I was telling him about how we used to go and how I still wanted to, and he said he’d take me. I said he didn’t have to, but he insisted.”

“That’s… wow, that’s so nice of him.”

You hate to say it now, but when you caught your brother and Steve in the backyard in front of the basement door, you’d doubted that the notorious Steve Harrington would be the type of guy to step up and be a selfless hero. However, you quickly learned that he protected everybody, from kids he didn’t know at all to the girl he’d only talked to once in eleventh grade to ask for a pencil. It was right around the second time he saved your life that you realized you were laughably wrong about him: he was selfless and he was heroic and geez, you’d never let yourself accept just how attractive he was, but now it was all you could think about.

Further, he’d become a sort of mentor to Dustin, the kind of guide that an older sister couldn’t really be for her younger brother. He drove Dustin around, he gave him advice, and he still hung out with your brother’s friends even though everything had gone back to normal. You hung out with them, too, and that’s how you and Steve had become close. You were still a little shy around him, though, partly because you’re always nervous around boys and partly because of your growing crush on him.

“Hey, he’s here,” Dustin calls, snapping you out of it. He hurries over to the door and tugs on his coat and shoes.

You stand up and bite your lip, suddenly nervous. “Dustin, are you sure it won’t be weird if I come? I mean, I know Steve’s my friend too and all, but if you guys want this to be just the two of you, I’d understand.”

He looks at you quizzically. “I definitely want you to come. And also, Steve asked me to ask you. Like, multiple times.”

Yeah, right. You scoff. “Not even.”

“Even! C’mon, Y/N, get a grip. Let’s go.” He tosses you your jacket and you slowly put it on before walking over to grab your shoes.

As you and Dustin cross the front lawn towards Steve’s car, your heart races. If Steve did ask for you “multiple times,” what the hell does that mean? Does he actually like you back? The possibility had crossed your mind a few times but you’d always written it off. It was too unlikely, you told yourself. Too good to be true. Especially considering how obviously in love with Nancy Wheeler he’d been just a few weeks ago. Feelings don’t change that fast, do they?

Well, yours had when you realized that Steve wasn’t a bad guy after all. Plus, you catch him staring at you a lot more often than people usually stare at casual friends, and there was that one time when El called you pretty and you shook your head and Steve looked at you like you were crazy and assured you it was true, and he also puts his arm around you while he walks you to class sometimes… Damn, maybe he does like you. The very thought gives you an inexplicable urge to squeal and jump up and down like a schoolgirl with a crush. You stifle that urge and pull open the passenger door, sliding inside.

“Hey, Hendersons,” Steve says with a grin.

“Hey, Harrington,” Dustin responds as he climbs into the back seat.

“Hi, Steve,” you say. “Thanks a lot for doing this. You really didn’t have to.”

Steve shakes his head as he shifts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb. “You kidding? I wanted to. I love Christmas.”

Dustin leans forward. “Me too! You believe Lucas said he likes Thanksgiving more than Christmas?”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah! I could understand if he said Halloween, but Thanksgiving? Lamest holiday ever.”

“Damn right it is.”

The boys continue to chat as you fasten your seatbelt and make yourself comfortable. Steve’s car is a lot warmer than your dad’s truck ever was, and the music’s set to perfect listening volume: just loud enough to hear, but soft enough to be conducive to conversation. You lean back against the headrest and gaze out the window as Steve cruises slowly through your neighborhood.

“So, Y/N/N,” he says when there’s a lull in his conversation with Dustin, “how are you?”

You look over at him with a smile. “Just fine. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. You happy to be on break?”

You laugh. “Happy’s an understatement. Did I tell you Mrs. Wilson gave us a 6 page paper on Monday that was due today?” Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the window. “I don’t think I slept once this week.”

“Now that’s just cruel.”

“Right? I almost cried when she assigned—oh! Look! Guys, look!” You point excitedly out the window when you spot a particularly decked-out colonial. “The McGills really go all out, don’t they? There must be a million lights on there.” You stare at the house in awe. You kinda feel like a little kid again, so excited over something so simple. It’s a beautiful feeling.

“Woah, that’s awesome!” Dustin slides over to your side of the car. “That must’ve taken them forev—hey, Steve, watch it!”

Steve curses and makes a sharp left, narrowly avoiding the McGills’ mailbox. “Sorry, sorry.”

You giggle. “Don’t worry. You’re still a better driver than me.”

“Everyone’s a better driver than you,” he replies with a smirk.

You raise your eyebrows and you’re about to defend yourself when Dustin speaks up first. “Yeah, yeah. Next time, keep your eyes on the road and off my sister.”

You feel your face heat up. Heart pounding, you fix your gaze out the window again. Any residual doubt that he likes you back shrinks even smaller.

“I was looking at the lights, dickhead,” Steve mutters as he turns onto a main road, staring just as pointedly at the street in front of him as you are at the scenery outside. “Sure,” Dustin teases.

Nobody says anything for a little while, and in the beginning, it’s awkward and tense. Then, you look at Steve at the same time he looks at you and you both smile (him sheepishly, you shyly) and suddenly the silence is much more comfortable. He drives through a couple more neighborhoods and the three of you start ranking each house on a scale from one to ten, ten being the most Christmas-y.

“That’s a ten for sure,” you joke when you pass a house on your left with one measly string of lights wrapped lazily around a single tree.

“Oh, definitely. That’s festive as hell,” Steve agrees.

You look back to ask Dustin what he thinks, but you hold your tongue when you see how happy he looks. He’s looking out to the right with a soft smile on his face, mouthing the words to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” You almost want to cry: you haven’t seen him this at peace in far too long, and now you’re even more grateful to Steve than you were before.

It’s around 9:30 when Steve brings you back home. “Thanks for taking us out, Steve,” Dustin says as he opens his door, grinning brightly.

Steve grins back. “No problem, man. And hey, if I don’t see you again this weekend, merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too. You coming, Y/N?”

You nod. “Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

When your brother shuts the door and starts making his way toward the house, you turn to Steve. He’s already looking at you. You feel yourself blush again. “Thank you so much for doing this. It definitely made my day and I know it meant the world to Dustin. You’re a really great guy, you know that?”

Steve looks down and you can see that he’s blushing slightly, too. “Oh, please.”

“No, really! I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to my brother.”

He meets your eyes. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“That’s… that’s great.”

You smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that already. You don’t think highly enough of yourself, Harrington.”

His face lights up and your heart flutters. Neither of you say anything for a long moment, but then you remember you told Dustin you were on your way in. “I should probably get going,” you say as you climb out of the car. Once you’re outside, you duck back down and shoot him a grin. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He smiles softly. “Night.”

You’re halfway up your front lawn when you hear Steve’s window open. “Y/N/N, wait!”

You turn around and walk back over. “What’s up?”

Steve leans out of the car. “Do you have plans for New Years? I was thinking of having some people over, and I don’t know, maybe that could be like our first date.”

You freeze. “Are you—are you asking me out?”

He smirks. “That depends on your answer.”

“What if I say yes?”

“Then yes, I’m asking you out.”

“Okay, then yes.”

“Great. So I’ll call you later.”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Nice. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!”

You can’t believe that just happened. It’s like the perfect ending to an already wonderful night. You slowly start making your way back to your house, but something makes you hesitate. With a deep breath, you turn around and run back to Steve’s car. “I forgot something,” you say. Before he can ask what, you lean in and gently press a kiss to his cheek. When you pull back, you notice he’s got the same awestruck look on his face as he did before. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper.

He seems to be speechless for a moment. “Merry Christmas,” he finally says, smiling softly. “You should forget things more often.”

You giggle. “Goodnight for real this time.”

“Goodnight for real this time,” he repeats. “Now go get some sleep.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington reader insert #stranger things #merry xmas

138 notes · View notes

roseonhissleeve · 6 years

Text

Have A Little Faith: Chapter Eight

"At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet."

- Plato

TW: domestic abuse.

Harry and I saw each other every day for a week straight.

We stayed in Rome for another two days after our first date. We mainly walked around the city together, always hand in hand, and Harry stopped to take a lot of pictures every once in a while. He tried to get me in some of them, but I always protested.

“Harryyyyyy, no more pictures!” I’d squeal, covering my features with my hands once I saw that he’d pointed the camera lens in my direction again.

“None of that! You make them prettier, Ro,” he’d reply with a shit-eating grin, taking the opportunity to snap another photo of me with my face covered and my giggles filling the air.

The days that passed were filled with laughter, and the more I opened up to him the more I realized how genuinely funny Harry was. He made me laugh during these seven days more than I had in the past few months of my life.

He got excited about everything—I had lost track of how many times he’d seen a gelato place or pizzeria and tugged on my hand to RUN towards it, as if the place was going to combust if he didn’t get there soon enough.

The excitement he lived through his life contrasted the dull ache that had plagued mine for a long time, and it make me feel things I’d long forgotten existed.

We’d travelled together all the way to Naples, Italy.

We sat at a pizzeria that was in the middle of a quiet plaza.

It was in the heart of the city—we’d just walked through a local art exhibit and now we were stopping for lunch. The small square tables were covered by the shade of the umbrellas that had been placed in the center of the tabletop, and the metal chairs were dressed in soft cushions on the seat. Harry was drinking a beer, his sunglasses sitting on the top of his head. He was wearing a black button-up shirt, and the top few buttons were undone as if to reveal the top of the sparrows that resided on his chest. His sleeves were rolled up and every so often I would take a peek at the tattoos that lay on his skin—I still hadn’t had a proper look at them.

I took a sip out of my glass of wine and watched as he tapped away at his phone screen, his lips forming a little smile that I’m sure he wasn’t conscious of.

“How’s Gemma?” I asked as I set the wine glass down on the table. I waited a few seconds as he finished typing out his message and hit “send,” putting his phone face down on the table afterwards.

“Gem’s doing great. Wants to talk on the phone later, wants more pictures, wants to know everything,” he chuckled, shaking his head a little bit at his own words. “Have I told you how nosy she is?”

“You have.” I giggled, taking another sip of my drink. Over the past week I realized how close Harry really is with his sister—they messaged each other at least once every single day, and he’d called her on the phone a couple of times. “It must be nice to have an older sibling.”

“It was a pain sometimes. Gem was real bossy when we were little, but I can’t imagine my life without her.” He explained, wrapping his large hand around his bottle of beer as he watched my features. “What’s it like having little sisters?”

“It’s the closest thing to being a parent that I’ve ever experienced without actually being a parent.” I replied, taking a small pause to formulate my thoughts into words. “They’re so much younger, it’s sometimes hard to connect with them any other way. Caroline, the middle one, struggles a lot with being in the middle. I think that my parents compare them both to me a lot without even really realizing, which isn’t fair to them a lot. April, the littlest one, is a bundle of energy. Lives in her own world even now that she’s a bit older…I, um, had to spend a little while away from them about a year ago, and I think Caroline’s still mad at me for that. She was upset when I came on this trip.”

I edited my words carefully as to not give anything away that I wasn’t prepared to share.

The truth was, my relationship with Caroline had been rocky ever since Elijah cut me off from them. I thought that coming back home would make it better, but it hadn’t yet.

My entire body was shaking.

My fingers were clenched around the strap of my backpack that was hanging at my side, and even though I knew it was safe to let go and that I didn’t need to carry it any further, I couldn’t release. My muscles and senses were all shrieking at the top of their lungs, still high on adrenaline and fear from the past twenty-four hours.

Escaping took a lot out of me.

I stood at the front door for at least a good ten minutes before I scrounged up the courage to even lift my hand. When I did, I froze.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of the large engagement ring that sat on my finger. It made me want to throw up, and my hand immediately went numb against all my better reasoning telling me to keep calm. It felt like shackles—it chained me to the person that I had become under the weight of everything that Elijah had done to me. It was symbolic of everything that had been lost, everything he had chipped away with his words that sliced me like knives and his less-than-gentle hands.

I released my backpack and remained unresponsive to it as it fell to the ground. My mind was suddenly a one-way train with its only mission being to remove the accessory off of my finger. At first it wouldn’t budge—I grasped onto it and wiggled it firmly, uncaring of the sharp pain that was shooting through my nerves. The skin around the cool metal began to swell and turn a light shade of pink, and tears burned behind my eyelids. I could feel my throat closing as if I was being hung.

With enough pressure I managed to finally remove it, and as soon as it was no longer keeping me captive I felt like I could finally breathe again. I didn’t have much time to think before I heard the lock on the front door rattling, and I scrambled to get myself together. I picked up the backpack from the ground and shoved the ring in the front pocket, but that was all I had time to do before the door swung open and I heard a familiar voice.

“Rachel?”

I looked up to see my father’s face.

My heart immediately dropped to the floor. He looked like he’d aged endlessly in the months that I’d been gone. He’d let his beard grow out more than he usually did, and there were bags under his eyes where there used to be joy. His lips looked like they’d spend hours in a fine line, and his eyes were dull. They were then filled with confusion, as if he were trying to decide how to feel, and finally flickers of pain.

But most of all, love.

“D-Daddy…” I choked out softly, my hands still trembling as I looked at him. My eyes were red and puffy from crying for the past countless hours, and I hadn’t slept in two days. I wasn’t the same little girl that had moved away months earlier, and he wasn’t the same man.

We were both broken and it was all my fault. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me to leave and never return again.

But then he wrapped his arms around me.

I felt a wave of safety run down my entire body that I had forgotten even existed. It was like I was a little girl again and had just woken up from a nightmare and crawled into bed next to him. I was finally home. I could feel and hear his soft sobs escape his large frame and they were soon joined by my own tears. I wrapped my arms around him tightly and he held me, as if he was trying to protect me from everything bad in the world, and for the first time in forever I didn’t feel like my body was collapsing into itself.

Half an hour later I was in the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate, wrapped around an old blanket and sitting in front of my mom and dad. My mother had also cried when she saw me, and it’d taken her significantly longer to let go of me than my father. She immediately

called one of her friends and asked them to pick up my sisters from school while my dad made me some food.

They welcomed me with open arms, and that in itself was enough to break my heart because it was so much more than I thought I deserved.

“He wouldn’t let me use the phone,” I began, staring at the cup in my hand as my parents looked at me from across the table. My hands had stopped shaking and I grasped the mug as if my life depended on it, because it was warm and it was familiar and it was permanent and wouldn’t disappear on me. “About a week in I found my cell phone in a wet load of laundry. He said it was an accident, but now I think he did it on purpose. He wouldn’t let me use his and he said that it was too expensive to fix mine or get a new one.”

“That’s when I started writing you letters,” I explained, my voice steady for once. “I went to the post office every day and he would let me leave the house, but when he realized where I was going he got…he didn’t like it.”

I visibly shuddered as I thought about that first night that he’d found out I was writing to my parents. It was the first night that he’d been physically violent, the first time he’d laid a finger on me without my consent and it was branded into my memory for the rest of my life.

“I should’ve known what…what he was…” I whispered, and that’s when I began to lose it. Tears ran down my cheeks and I lifted the mug of warm liquid to take a sip, finding a strange reassurance in the burn as it went down my throat.

“Oh, Rachel…” My mother exhaled, and I could see that she was holding back tears. My father wasn’t as good at keeping it together as she was, and I could see the rage behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry I d-didn’t come back sooner…I’m sorry, mom…” I exhaled in raspy breaths, shoulders heaving.

Suddenly I heard the front door open, and little voices coming from the hallway.

“MOM! April got in trouble today!”

“No I DIDN’T! MOM, CAROLINE’S LYING!”

“MOM!”

I heard quick footsteps that stopped suddenly when they got to the kitchen.

They looked so much bigger.

Caroline had grown at least half a foot since I had left. She looked taller and a thousand years more mature, and that was probably partly my fault. Even her face looked older, but her eyes were still the beautiful hazelnut color that suited her perfectly.

April looked like she’d grown even more, if that was even possible. She had cut her hair so now it was at her shoulders, when the last I knew she was growing it out so she could be like Rapunzel.

They both stared at me with wide eyes, and April was the first to break the silence.

“Sissy!” She shrieked, and in the time it took me to stand up and take a few steps towards her she’d already begun launching herself at me, her tiny arms wrapping around my neck tightly as I felt her legs cling around my body. She was heavier than before, too, but I wasn’t letting go for anything in the world.

“Hi, munchkin,” I replied, pressing kisses upon kisses to her cheek and giggling softly when I heard her laugh. Tears of joy were filling my eyes, and I gave her a tight squeeze. I felt like I could fly. It felt like freedom, being with somebody who didn’t see me any differently. Someone who didn’t know what happened to me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Caroline staring at me from the doorway. I lowered April onto the ground and flashed Caroline a hesitant smile.

“Hi, Carebear,” I said softly, and a flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes. It wasn’t until then that I noticed how tired she looked.

“Hi…” she murmured, and I took a few steps towards her before kneeling down so that I could be more at her level. “Are you going to leave again?”

Her words broke my heart more than it already was, and I shook my head without a thought.

“Never again.”

“Ro?”

“Mm, yeah?”

“I asked you if you miss them?”

Harry’s voice pulled me away from my thoughts and I looked up to meet his gaze. There was patience and understanding in his eyes, and it made me smile.

“Every day. They mean more to me than they’ll ever know,” I admitted, to which he simply reached across the table and took my hand. My smile widened a little as he brushed his

thumb across my skin, and we stayed completely silent for a moment before we were interrupted.

“Two margarita pizzas!” A booming voice announced, and I looked up to see a little Italian lady holding two very, VERY large dishes of pizza in her hands. She set them both on the table and my eyes widened as I took in the size of the thing—it was the equivalent to an extra-large pizza back home, and I was excited to eat it.

“Thank you,” Harry said with his signature grin, and the lady walked back into the restaurant, leaving us out in the patio by ourselves.

“Holy crap!” I gasped, looking down at the pizza with a grin. It looked delicious and traditionally Italian, which meant it was going to be amazing. “I am so excited, it’s not even funny.”

Harry threw his head back a little bit and laughed at my declaration, his face flashing with mischief before he continued.

“I bet you can’t eat more than me.”

“You’re on, Styles.”

***

“I beat you fair and square.”

“I’m pretty sure you cheated, actually.”

“How do you cheat at eating pizza?!” I giggled, shaking my head. My large dish of pizza was empty after about forty-five minutes—his still had two slices, and I’d spent the last ten minutes teasing him about it. “You gotta lose sometimes, y’know.”

“I don’t always win,” he argued, flashing a lopsided grin.

“Um, you harassed me into going out on a date with you and now you haven’t left me alone for days. Something tells me you’re not used to losing,” I teased, lifting my nearly empty glass of wine to my lips as my eyes glimmered with mischief. His jaw dropped at my words with a hint of a laugh at the tip of his tongue, and he clutched his heart melodramatically.

“You really know how to break a guy’s heart, Ro. Those are fighting words,” he threatened, but the expression on his face was anything other than threatening and it made me laugh.

I shook my head, sitting up straight in my chair so I could lean forward before I spoke.

“Really, though. What’s something you want to do that you haven’t done before?” I took the last sip of my wine and set the glass down on the table again, my head feeling a bit warm and fuzzy but not enough to be of impairment.

Harry’s forehead crinkled a little bit as it always does when he’s deep in thought, and he leaned forward onto the table, pinching his lower lip softly between two of his fingers. There was a part of me that always wanted to sketch him just like that—in that moment where he was thinking, when his mind belonged to the stars.

“There’s something I’m looking for,” he began, leaning forward on his arms as if he was telling me a secret. “I…I don’t really know what, to be honest. But it’s something. I’ve seen so many places and met lots of people, I’ve done lots of things. And that’s not me being cocky, it’s just that I’ve been lucky enough to have the chance…But there’s something missing and I don’t know what it is.”

“Y’know when you wake up in the morning and you know you’ve had a really good dream, but you can’t remember it?” He continued, and I nodded my head at his words, deeply entranced in what he was revealing. “For the last little while I’ve felt like that. Like there’s something in my life that I want and I know I want it but I can’t quite describe why or what it is.”

“Like you’re walking but you don’t know the destination,” I offered. It was all that my life had been for the past several months.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. His lips formed a smile again after having remained still for a little bit, and I could see his shoulders relax at the realization that someone finally understood. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

I simply smiled in return, tucking a bit of my hair behind my ear that had fallen out of my loose ponytail. I watched as he took a drink from his second bottle of beer, and we weren’t silent for long before he opened his mouth again.

“What about you, Ro? What’s something you want to do that you’ve never done?”

I nibbled on my lower lip anxiously as I thought up my response to this question. There were a lot of things that I wanted to do—more accurately, there were a lot of things I wish I’d never done in the first place. Most of the things I wanted to do were a response to that; find my own place, get a job, become independent, and stand up to Elijah. But I didn’t want to go into that with Harry, not now. I felt bad keeping my answer superficial when he had offered me so much and been so genuine, but it was all I was comfortable with.

“I want to climb Mount Vesuvius,” I said, my voice small but still audible. If Harry was somehow displeased with my answer he didn’t show it, and I could tell by his pause that he was waiting for me to continue.

“I told myself that I would do it while I was in Italy. My dad travels a lot, and he did it. I’ve always looked up to him, and I remember being so impressed when he did it that I wanted to do it myself.” I smiled at the memory of my dad coming back from his business trip, bringing back all sorts of souvenirs. From this trip in particular he’d brought back a snow globe with the volcano in it, because he thought it was hilarious that there was snow on a volcano. “That was when I was very young, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“Let’s do it!” Harry said, sitting up straight in his chair with a grin that reminded me of a little kid who just saw an ice cream truck. It made me laugh, and I shook my head with disbelief.

“Right now?!”

“Yes!”

“We can’t right now!” I protested, eyes widening. I wasn’t expecting him to take what I said and run with it, but the determination in his face was unmistakable.

“Yes we can!” He argued gently, but I could tell that he was letting up a little bit. Harry was amazing at knowing when to push me and when not to, and I think he was going to let this one go. “Okay, maybe not right now. But before we leave.”

I exhaled a small sigh, but I never stopped smiling at the beautiful man in front of me. I gave my head a small nod and gave in to his words, my smile widening a little bit when I felt him reach to take my hand in his grasp.

“Alright. You win.”

if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving me a dollar or two! x https://ko-fi.com/C0C0VKJI

if you would like to consider supporting my work long-term, please check out my patreon! x https://www.patreon.com/roseonhissleeve

#have a little faith #half #harry styles #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles x ofc #harry styles oneshot #harry styles blurb #harry styles chapter #harry styles drabble #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #chapter eight #the destination

59 notes · View notes

unkindnessofone · 6 years

Text

5SOS. Running

Must read One Nest beforehand for this to make sense. Please enjoy. Sending it out to the darling @hemmo1996-5sosvevo. Thanks for the love!

Masterlist Here

To say the morning had gone well would be a flat out lie. It was close to 8:30 in the morning and Cagney felt like garbage that had been left out in the rain overnight. She had no idea how Luke functioned hungover or fucked up because her bones ached as she held March to her chest, feeding him, with only three hours of sleep running her body. Cagney was starting to feel like she did need the help of a nanny part time. Once full, March detached himself from his mum out of habit and she bounced him against her bare chest to burp him. Miles was on the ground, sitting up and watching his toddler sister with fascination, trying to touch her arm with both hands as she played with her stuffed mermaid doll on her lap. “Where’s daddy?” Penelope whined again, this time not bothering to look away from her toy to ask her mum. “He had to work early.” Cagney stuck to her life from the morning when Penny asked after coming downstairs due to screaming twin babies. Truthfully, Cagney didn’t know where her husband was. He had fled the night before after comforting one of the crying babies and she had no idea what was going to happen now. She worried he was somewhere on the other side of California, messed up in his sports car. Maybe, he was giving her a taste of her own medicine and fucking some beautiful actress broken. Cagney’s brain was spinning. She put March down with his other two siblings and wrestled her sports bra over her head and then the large 5SOS t shirt she had slept in over top.

“Alright, let’s get you some breakfast.” Cagney sighed as she earned her daughter’s attention. She carefully picked Miles up as March was crawling away at light speed as soon as the door of his nursery opened. As the small band of Hemmings were making their short journey to the kitchen, the sound of the front door opening caught both females attention. Luke was on the other side, his tired body still wearing what he had stalked out of the house in the night before. He looked beyond Cagney once his feet were inside and the front door was shut. “Daddy!” Penelope was running to him at light speed, her morning hunger forgotten for a moment. She ran into his legs and hugged them, his head dropping to give her all of his attention. He could feel Cagney looking to him, waiting for acknowledgment, but he had no intention of giving her any mind. He was still hurt by her actions, the way she seeked affection in someone else, and his disappointment had manifested itself into thick sludge-like anger. With three little ones around, he couldn’t react and that kept them both safe from his emotions for now. “Hey Pen…” Gently, he breathed back as his hands both pat her behind the shoulders. “Do you want to go to the studio with me today?" "Yes!” Thrilled, Penny threw her head up from his knees and showed off her beaming smile to him. For a second, it made Luke feel a touch better. He pat her back again and wiggled free since her hands had let go of the little grip they had on him. “Alright, I got to go get dressed first.” He informed her, stepping past to get a move on. Luke wasn’t interested in being in the house that hadn’t felt like a home for a while any longer than he needed to be. “You do too.” He mentioned to his daughter while scooping March off the ground and greeting his warm nose with a kiss. “I’m just about to make her breakfast.” Cagney told Luke sheepishly, her voice shy like the first time they met outside of her work. Luke glanced her over for a second from her bed head to dark circles to bare feet, certain they both looked just as shitty as the other, and then spoke again to Penelope who had made her way over to his leg again. “How does McDonalds breakfast soon?” It was a treat that Luke didn’t think she had had before. He knew she had happily picked on Chicken McNuggets once when Cagney was pregnant with the boys and was craving a Big Mac. “Yeah!” Penelope nodded with speed, not sure what she was so excited about. Luke kissed March again and put him back down in order to go get dressed, corralling Penny along with him. Luke helped himself to a quick face wash in the bathroom en suite to his bedroom with Cagney. He used a shot of her dry shampoo and then hit his neck with a mist of Dylan Blue by Versace. It was better than the scent of insomnia, rum, dry rage, and an entire carton of cigarettes. He brushed his teeth, put on deodorant and came out naked to see Penny had dressed herself and was waiting with her mermaid doll on her parents bed. “I’m almost ready, Penny Lou.” He winked at her and peeled a red hair elastic off his right wrist and gave it to her to put her hair up the way she liked it. He had been the habit of wearing one on his arm everywhere he went since Penelope became old enough to have an opinion about her hair and her preference was to have it up and out of her face. As Penelope was mirroring motions she always felt her mom do in order to tie up a ponytail behind her, Luke went to the walk in closet to dress himself. He settled on worn out jeans that were ripped at both knees and a blue V neck to still had the tag on. He took a light black bomber jacket just in case wind picked up and then took an extra minute to pack a few changes of clothes into a small Louis Vuitton carry on. It was Cagney’s bag, but he wasn’t bothered. Once packed, he called for Penelope’s attention as he waited by his open room door. She slid off the bed at the sound of him calling her name and ran over with her stuffed doll being held by her sea foam green hair, Penny’s ponytail bouncing behind her. He noticed that it wasn’t that messy and she was improving on her ability to do it by herself. She had on her stretchy blue legging shorts and a little cream colored t shirt with a watercolor rainbow in one corner. It had been gifted to her by Simone who took it upon herself to always keep all the kids closets full of cute pieces from international markets or designer duds. “Let’s get a sweater just in case.” He mumbled to his oldest and followed her to her bedroom. On her inside door knob, her grey zip up was hanging so Like hooked it through the handles of his carry on. He also took a second to go through her top drawer to take a swimsuit and a pair of clean underwear. “Want to bring a couple other toys?” It wasn’t as if the studio was the most child friendly place. Penny nodded and found her very small holographic seashell backpack. First, she shoved her doll inside, then took her thick box of crayons off the floor and a Bubbles Guppies activity book from her small book shelf by her closet. Luke looked around her room for one more thing, but figured she could watch a movie on someone’s iPad or laptop at the studio if need be. Heading downstairs, he watched Penelope as she carefully held onto the rail and took the steps as fast as she could with her backpack clunking against her. She went right to the front entrance door mat and sat on her butt, reaching for her discarded slip on shoes to pull them onto her feet. Luke was one step away from being on the main floor when Cagney came around and stood right in front of him, she had Miles in her arms while March was content in the play pen with a toy tambourine. “We need to talk.” Her voice was begging even if she was trying to be quiet in order to not let Penelope know that there was friction in her family. Luke just stared over Cagney’s blond frizzy hair and shrugged. He was being childish and he knew it, but he hadn’t filtered enough of his pure anger yet to behave in any better way. He focused his stare on Penelope’s pony tail, glaring at it like it owed him a blood debt. “You just stormed out last night,” Cagney almost hissed, moving a little to the left to line her face up with Luke’s. She wanted his attention. She wanted him to acknowledge she existed. “Don’t you think we should talk?” Things were more chaotic and challenging than they had ever been before the couple and Cagney was dying to move out of the disaster she had caused. It took two, of course, but she been the one to light fire to their world. “My mom is flying in to watch the kids,” Admitting that earned Luke’s attention. His blue eyes widened over her and screamed silently how disturbed they were. He did not like his in laws. “I called her last night and I think it would be good. We could go somewhere alone to talk.” Luke fought his tongue behind his tightly shut lips. He didn’t want to talk to her or be alone with her right now, but he knew that would not be helpful to say. “You invited your mother?” Christie Bloom knew the fastest way under Luke’s skin and she loved to remind him of that. “Well, she insist-” “Wow, Cagney, what are you going to do next? Make out with a Power Ranger in our pantry?” He had drunkeningly gone through Dacre Montgomery’s IMDB page last night once he was in a hotel room. He tortured himself with the Australian actors perfect abs and swore at different images he could find of the guy. Cagney showed off her disappointment in Luke’s comment, shoulders falling as he avoided eye contact with her again. She couldn’t say another word, Penny was standing at the door behind her and calling for Luke. He squinted at the baby boy against Cagney’s hip and checked whether it was Miles and not March before giving him a kiss on his chubby cheek. “I’m coming, Pen.” He moved right past Cagney as if she was just home decor and pushed open the house door, letting him and his littlest lady out, and then shut it loudly as if to let everyone know he was gone.

Cagney swallowed hard as she stood still, looking at the spot her husband had vacated, but focusing on nothing in particular. It took March’s screams from the other room to capture her attention and bring her back to reality. Luke might not have been happy her mom was coming into town, but she was looking forward to it.

——————

Playing it safe, Luke ordered Penelope a small stack of hot cakes and an apple juice from the drive thru. He was starving after a night of binge drinking by himself so he ordered a large black coffee and a big breakfast with a blueberry muffin on the side. Even if he didn’t devour it all, someone else would finish it up. He had the music on, but only turned it up to encourage Penelope who was clumsily singing along to Roxanne since the throwback station was still playing it. She had heard it enough times and the words were relatively easy for her to remember and say. By the second verse, Luke sang along with her - forgetting about his exhaustion and frustration with his own life. Once in the studio doors, later than he was supposed to be, he meant to set Penelope up on one of the back couches with her bag, but she ran straight for Ashton and hugged him while he lifted her onto his lap. “Aren’t you a pleasant surprise?” Ashton hugged her tightly in return, hamming up a groan as if he was squeezing her as hard as he could. “I have my shell!” She told him with an explosion of excitement through her ears. Her small hand reached behind her and smacked her backpack. Ashton was particularly fond of Penny’s little backpack and she knew that. “Is it full of pearls?” He engaged her imagination, but Luke interrupted before she could answer with more than a nod. “Penny, I got your pancakes.” He had opened up the yellow container on a spare couch cushion and was cutting them into bites she could handle with the dull plastic cutlery. Penelope didn’t waste any time wiggling off of Ashton’s lap and heading over to her Dad. She took off her bag and left it on the floor before going herself onto the couch to eat her breakfast. She was very hungry after all. Luke unfolded a napkin and stuffed it into the collar of her shirt. “Can you hang out here while I get some work done?” He asked her, but she was already rushing her first forkful of syrupy pancake into her mouth. Luke took her focus on eating as a ‘yes’ and kissed her forehead. It was nice to have her there even if he was busy. He took the rest of his take out bag and joined the producer by the desk, leaning in to find out what he missed. Michael was already in the sound booth and it looked like they were waiting on Calum and the producer’s assistant. Just as he expected he might, he set up the Bubble Guppies show on his phone and plugged in ear buds so Penelope could watch with her doll on the couch. Her activity book and crayons had held her interest for a grand total of fifteen minutes. Once she was occupied, Luke went back to trying to enforce his opinion on vocals. Ashton took himself out of the argument and joined the dirty blondie on the couch. When she offered him an ear bud, he leaned in and let her pop it in so they could watch the same episode together. The little mer-geniuses kind of freaked him out, but it was better than watching Michael and Luke frustrate one another from separate rooms. Luke was in need of a break by the time Penny was growing squirmy. She had watched two whole episodes and scribbled three different pictures in her book while lying on her tummy. She had been at the studio for two hours. Luke plunked her down on his lap and let his arm around her be comforting while he continued to work. When they hit hour three, he decided it was time to break for lunch. Instead of ordering in an obscene amount of food, he took Penny and Michael with him to Lemonade for a light salad lunch. The change of scenery was all Penny needed. “Are you staying at the hotel again?” Michael asked after washing his bite down with a sip of unsweetened iced tea. He and Grace went back and forth between renting houses and staying at the Chateau Marmont when they were in LA. It all came down to whatever mood his wife was in. “Yeah.” Luke nodded through his own gulp of water. “I think Pen and I are having a sleep over.” He hadn’t run it by Cagney, but he also didn’t intend to. It didn’t strike Mike as odd when Luke showed up at the hotel at two in the morning, drunk and lusting for another round. Everyone knew Cagney didn’t like the kids being around rowdiness especially when delivered by Luke. What raised Michael’s brows was that sober and conscious, Luke was choosing to stay at the hotel. “Oh? Well, Emme will be thrilled.” He leaned in and made one of his funnier faces at Penelope. She didn’t notice too much, just munching on edamame beans and looking at all the other people eating on the patio. “Everything okay?” He brought his focus back to Luke, trying to act like his question was very normal. “Yeah.” Luke lied with a single word and a cheerful shrug of his right shoulder. “Just want a little one on one time.” He was embarrassed that his wife had made out with someone else. It reflected on him poorly. Luke was ashamed of the current state of his marriage and himself. He had absolutely no desire to express to anyone how messed up everything was. He planned to lie, lie, lie. Michael didn’t buy it for a second, but he also knew better than to push and pry especially with Luke. Instead, Michael pulled Penny’s attention away from staring off at strangers as Like took out his phone to text friends. Luke called it quits at the studio after two more hours post lunch. Since Calum had finally arrived in town, struggling to leave his baby and girlfriend at home these days, they had a lot of bass work to complete and as much as Luke wanted to have a say in everything, he knew that it wasn’t necessary for him to be there for direction. He packed up Penelope’s little backpack and tossed it over his shoulder effortlessly, scooping his napping daughter up and holding her against the other shoulder to carry her to the car. Penelope woke up almost as soon as he started driving, the radio low but still enough to capture her attention. “Home now?” She checked through a yawn that was no bigger than she was. Penny moved to the side of her car seat, looking for a glimpse of her dad, but only ever catching pieces of his hair or his hands on the steering wheel. “Do you want to go swimming with Emmy?” Luke asked back at her, checking to see her expression through the mirror, instead of telling her they weren’t going home today. “Yes, please!” She wanted to see her best friend so badly that she showed off her manners. “Daddy, this is the best day ever.” She informed him happily while poking at the window and trying to find blue cars on the road. “Good.” Luke nodded back at her. It made him feel like less a failure to her that he was making her happy and filling a bad day with joy. Once at a red light, Luke reached back and felt her reach forward to try and hold his hand. He squeezed her fingers with his and laughed with amusement when she tried to squeeze his in return. The feelings they had for one another were mutual. The pool was mostly empty when Luke arrived with his two tiny bathing beauties. Penelope with her string bean body under an ombre blue one piece and Emmeline in a chic crisscross one piece, red with black sketched flowers all over it. Michael’s daughter had refused to come downstairs without glitter in her hair and a plastic pair of giant sunglasses on. He set them both at a lounge chair, telling them every fifteen seconds to wait before going in the water. Luke felt beyond grateful when Grace arrived at the pool with Iden holding her hand and waddling slow. No one could control a group of rambunctious kids like Grace Clifford could. She was Emmeline’s human leash, always keeping her in line and from running around wildly. Grace rolled her eyes right back at the suntanners who didn’t mask their disappointment that their were children in the pool area and helped Luke slather their antsy girls up with sunscreen. She made sure to remind Emmeline twice that she had to listen to Luke, stay in the shallow end, and behave. It was most surprising to Luke than anyone else, but splashing around with Penelope and Emmeline transported him out of his heavy state of frustration and into actual happiness. He was grinning with each corner of his mouth meeting an ear as he tossed the girls into the water, their arms linking around his neck and trying to pull him in. He remembered Ashton once describing his kids laughter as his favorite song and Luke, at the time, thought it was just the drummer being purposefully deep, but now he agreed. Hearing Penny giggle as she pretended to be a 'sparkly mermaid’ with Emmeline acted like medication to his hard heart. Grace called for a Chateau Marmont staff member to bring out a tray of raw vegetables and hummus dip for the kids to pick at. Forcing their pruning toes to take a break from kicking at Luke when they dog paddled around. Emme and Penny took to their own lounge chair with their snacks, leaving Luke and Grace nearby with Iden. Luke was on his phone, downloading samples that were being sent to him of what was happening in the studio. Still, he could feel Grace’s eyes on him like burning coals. Her stare left a mark. ��What are you hiding from, Lucas?” She let go of Iden’s stomach as he was wrestling with her. He wanted to go see his sister. Her smile tightened as Luke slid his blue eyes from his screen and looked at her with an unamused smirk. “Sleeping here drunk last night, leaving the studio today, coming here for a midday swim with Penny…” “You’re describing a pretty good time, Grace Adna.” If she was going to call him Lucas, he would use her middle name that he knew she loathed. For a second, he had made her quiet, but only a second. Grace fixed her hair behind her ears, showing off her new Tiffany’s studs that had been an impulse buy after a small argument with Michael last week, and prepared herself for what to say next. “I’m describing someone who isn’t masking their marital woes very well.” She came back and met his frosty gaze with a raised brow that almost hissed ’checkmate’. “I’m married to Michael, you think I wouldn’t recognize a man frustrated with his wife.” To her, all sad men did the same dance. She had learned the choreography long before she took up with the love her life, a man she drove insane in a variety of ways. “What’s going on? Besides having three small children and no sleep…”

Luke wrestled with himself. He didn’t want to answer as he was too proud to let anyone know that his marriage was currently frayed and delicate, perhaps inching towards a undignified destiny. On the other hand, Luke knew Grace could see through him. He also knew she could keep a secret and she was someone who wasn’t foreign to a rough patch. She and Michael wore scars of their relationship like badges of honor. They never hid when things were difficult. Even when it was ugly, they were always honest. It often made him uncomfortable, but Luke had to admit it was sort of beautiful in it’s own way.

“She thinks….” He knew some of this was his fault. She felt distant from him because they had no time together with three small children and the time they could have together, even just an hour in bed watching TV, he spent getting wasted. Still, that wasn’t why Luke was avoiding his California house. “I guess I am…” Did he have a drug problem? No. Did he like to party? Yes. Was he feeling overwhelmed with new twins and a new album in the works? Absolutely. Luke was having a hard time navigating himself through the mess of his sleepy and pissed off mind at the moment. Sighing again, he glanced behind himself to check on Penelope. She was eating carrots without hummus, patting Iden’s hair, and talking about nothing at all in gibberish with Emme. She was happy and she had no idea how broken her Dad felt. “Cagney made out with some other guy.” He felt like a child saying it, but it hurt. She might as well have slept with Dacre. It stung all the same knowing someone else’s tongue was in her mouth, his mouth. Dacre’s hands had surely grabbed and explored the body that Luke had spent so long getting to know and learning with. The body that housed his three children, the body that he was in love with, the body that made up his wife. “I’m just fucking pissed. She told me last night.” He groaned out and leaned forward near Grace. His hands held his face before running through his greasy hair that was in desperate need of a wash that didn’t include chlorine. It was curlier now to since leaving the pool. He pushed his elbows into his knees that were poking out from under his navy swim trunks and grunted.

Grace moved from her lounge chair onto his and ran her own hand through his locks, comforting him like he was a brother of some sorts. She kissed the top of his head and then pulled him into her chest with her fingers picking at his hair with care.

“You know when Michael hurts me, I blast 'Go Your Own Way’ by Fleetwood Mac and scream in the closet. Do you think that would help?” Grace smiled to herself as she heard and felt Luke chuckle against the thin jersey material of her top. “It works!” She laughed back.

“I’m just fucking livid with her.” Finally, he admitted. Luke leaned onto his back and laid his head flat on Grace’s lap, using her face as a shield from the blistering sunshine that was beating down on them. “I’ve done fucked up shit and I know I drive her crazy with going out, partying, and drinking and whatever, but I would never do that. I would never fucking - “ Mindlessly, he began to play with his thick gold wedding band, sliding it up to his second knuckle and then pushing it back down. “I wouldn’t. You know that.” It wasn’t as if Luke hadn’t had ten thousand different opportunities to screw around on his wife either. He just always turned them down or walked away.

“You’re good people.” Grace agreed, her fingers playing with his locks in an effort to soothe his aching soul platonically. Sure, she had seen all four members of the band be idiot rock stars, but as they had all grown up together, Grace knew for certain that Luke meant well at his core. His conscience was kind. She knew she was a good judge of character too. “You don’t deserve to be betrayed like that.” Licking her lips, she promised him. Grace never said things she never meant. Honestly, she was surprised. She couldn’t believe that Cagney had it in her. She never would have pegged it to be her as the one to step out of the relationship. “Can I ask who it was? Not that it matters.” It could have been Luke’s clone from a different dimension, it still wouldn’t be okay. “Was it that actor guy? The one with the name I can’t pronounce?”

“You knew they were hanging out?” He raised off her lap quickly and searched Grace’s perpetually made up face for an answer.

“So did you.” She gave him a look just as crazy as the one he was shooting directly at her. “How could you have missed it? He was always around.”

“I thought it was harmless when she went to lunch with him.”

“I would cut Michael’s testicles off with dull shears if he took our kids to lunch with him and another woman.” Grace realized afterwards that she wasn’t helping, but the truth had a way of just slipping out of her. “His ex girlfriend sent us a baby booties when Emmeline was born and I sent her back the lyrics to that Big Sean song, 'IDFWU’, in gold cursive. I also donated the booties because I’m not a total monster.” She smiled, feeling better once Luke laughed and rolled his eyes at her. “Anyway, you didn’t know they were hanging out?”

“I didn’t know she was taking the kids everywhere with him or, like, going out a bunch. I knew they were friends.” Luke hadn’t given it enough thought. He felt foolish for the trust he practiced. Whenever he found himself feeling suspicious, he reminded himself that Cagney hadn’t jumped down his throat for being photographed with different women, mingling with actresses at industry parties, or even being upset when he made out with two beautiful models in a recent music video. He couldn’t be mad at her for making friends that were male. He didn’t want to be that guy. Now that Grace mentioned it, he didn’t like that she was bringing him around their family, his three kids. “I’m a fucking moron.”

“So, you’re just going to hide out here with Penny?”

“For now.” Luke sighed and shook his hair around his head before wiping at his tired face. “I have no desire to go home. I don’t want to look at her. I’m angry.”

“You need to cool off, for sure.” Grace agreed. “You got to take care of you. I think that means having martinis with me while the kids play.” She laughed, laying a hand on his knee and waiting for him to smile. “And if you need me to watch the kids sometimes or whatever, holler.”

“Thanks.” He gave her half a smile that was all sincere. “Don’t tell Mike or anybody about this, okay? I don’t want people to know.”

“You know I’m a vault.” She rolled her eyes and turned around to look at her kids completely, not surprised, but not happy to see that Emmeline was encouraging her little brother to put his hands in the hummus dish. “Whatever you decide, you got me on your side.” She rose to her feet and headed to fetch her mischievous children. “I know a great divorce lawyer, gang member, couples counselor, whatever you need.” She winked and took a towel from her daughter’s lap to wipe off Iden’s hands, right away scolding them both. They didn’t care. They were laughing right at her.

“Daddy?” Surprising Luke as he had just laid down on the lounge chair, hands folded behind his head and eyes shut. His feet were dangling off the edge as he was too tall and right by them was Penelope, hair still wet in her ponytail and shivering in her bathing suit since her towel was somewhere on the cement ground. “Are we going home soon?” Usually in California, she spent all her time with her mom and only saw her dad for meals or in between his schedule, sometimes he was gone for long stretches of time.

“No. I think we’re going to have a PJ party, you and me.” He smiled at her, but it faded as soon as he saw her look solemnly down at her bare feet, the sparkly polish that her mom had painted on it a few days before chipping at the edge. Luke sat up and leaned closer, waiting for Penny to stop pouting at the ground and look at him again. “You don’t want to do that?”

“I miss mummy.” She was little. It was to be expected.

“Yeah.” Luke could only deflate in response, reaching forward and waiting for her to put her petite hand in his. He squeezed it right away, but this time, Penny didn’t squeeze back. “I thought after you have a bath, we could play a game or play with Emme and Iden, and then we could watch a movie and eat dinner in bed, but if you want to go Penelope, I can take you home.” He wasn’t ready to go home himself and he certainly didn’t like the idea of spending another night away from his kids, alone and drunk in a hotel room, but he couldn’t keep Penny with him forever. Even though fractured at the moment, they were a family.

It took Penelope a long pause to figure out how to respond. She was an honest child and Luke felt proud of that. She didn’t just do things because other people wanted to, but she was still sweet most of the time.

“We can have a PJ party.” Nodding, she agreed and squeezed his hand back. “That could be fun. Can I play in Emme’s room too?” The two giggly girls never seemed to grow tired of one another. They had been thick as thieves since Penelope could keep up with Emmeline on her own two feet.

“Of course.” If the girls wanted to play, that meant Luke could keep venting to Grace and have one of her famously strong gin martinis.

— — — — — —- — — —

Michael was back from the studio. He had made a promise to Grace in couple’s counselling that when they were in the same city, he would have dinner with his family unless otherwise discussed or they had a date. She was always satisfied as long as he had more meals with them than without. His return signalled the end of Penelope and Emmeline’s impromptu play date. Emmeline didn’t seem to mind though because it meant spaghetti and meatballs for her and her father’s doting until bed time.

Luke bathed Penelope, rinsing the shampoo from her blond locks, and making a soap mohawk on top of her head. They talked about the twins, mermaids, and what they wanted for dinner. Privately, Luke was just relieved that his daughter didn’t interrogate him with questions about Cagney or anything. Perhaps, she didn’t realize that anything was wrong. She wasn’t as intuitive as Grace was yet.

For pyjamas, he dressed Penny in the blue v neck he had been wearing all day and set her up in bed with a memory game he had borrowed from Emmeline. He was pretty impressed with how much better she was getting at the very simple child’s game. Luke supposed the fact that it was Little Mermaid theme helped hold Penelope’s interest. She adored Ariel and thought Sebastian was funnier than her Dad and Uncle Mike. Once two rounds were finished, dinner was at the door. Steak, potatoes, and broccoli for Luke while Penelope only wanted grilled cheese. Luke insisted she have a fruit cup with it and she didn’t object, picking at the pieces of pineapple first. His whiskey glass was empty from the first round of Memory, so Luke took the opportunity to mix himself another jack and coke before crawling in bed to watch the opening credits of Lilo & Stitch. As of the last month, she had come to love it so Luke had it downloaded on his laptop and easy to take with him and hook into any television anywhere.

Full and sleepy from a day she considered to be 'the best’, Penelope fell asleep with the crust of her second half of sandwich in her hand. She was tucked under her Dad’s arm with her head rolling off his chest and onto his stomach. Luke adored her under the blue light. Since she was out like the hotel room lights, Luke was letting the film finish while he messed around on his phone, texting friends and going through notes from the studio. He didn’t want to move yet and possibly wake up Penny. He knew eventually he would want another drink or to shower the stench of his pain out of his hair, but for now, he was comfortable just laying in bed with his little lady.

He was comfortable until Cagney called, of course. He declined it instantly just as he had two other times during dinner. It wasn’t until she texted him that he felt inclined to dial her back. Her message made a pretty good point:

’You have had Penny all day. You have told me nothing. Call me. She is my daughter too.’

He couldn’t believe they were at this point. Cagney was the kind of girl that everyone described as 'wholesome’, 'loyal’, and 'saccharine’. After a string of opportunist girlfriends and entitled nobodies, Luke welcomed her innocent kindness. She just wanted him to relax and get some rest. He had never had that in a partner before. He always just tried to meet her level of decency somehow, make her proud to be his like he was proud to be hers. Now he was avoiding her like the kid with a cough in the waiting room and she was sending him missed off, bordering threatening texts. They weren’t the people they vowed to be to one another.

His thumb hovered over her name in red to signal that her last call was missed and eventually caved in. Luke cautiously moved off the bed and watched as Penny slid onto a pillow and stayed asleep. He poured a glass of just whiskey and carried it outside onto the balcony so he could talk to her freely. The howling of a party on a balcony a few floors beneath him sang into the wind, but Luke ignored it, took a gulp of his drink, and called his wife.

“Hi…” Tough, but frightened, Cagney answered. Luke wasn’t able to say a word even though he knew he should. It was strange, but even saying 'hello’ to her felt dishonest right now. “Is Penny good? Where are you guys?”

“She’s fine.” He decided not to be offended that she asked him about Penelope’s well-being. He was her father. What did Cagney think was happening? “We’re just staying somewhere else tonight. I’ll drop her off after breakfast tomorrow.” He had to go to the studio anyway as he had ducked out early today.

“Why don’t you guys come home? The twins are sleeping, my mom is here if they wake up…”

“She’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.” Luke grumbled, trying to keep his voice from emoting at all. It wasn’t easy for someone who wore his feelings on his sleeve and wrote hundreds upon hundreds of songs about them. “Plus, your mom being there is the least enticing.” Luke couldn’t help himself that time. He had to make a jab about Cagney’s parents. He didn’t even feel bad because he knew they would do the same and that his mother-in-law had probably said countless unflattering things about him since her flight landed.

Through the phone, Cagney’s eye roll accompanied by annoyed sigh through her nostrils could be heard, but Luke ignored them as he leaned over the ledge and kept nursing his drink while looking out at the busy Los Angeles traffic. Up high, he was safe from the construction zone that was the kingdom he had carelessly looked after.

“When are we going to talk, Luke? I think it’s important we do. I know I messed up, but - “

“You didn’t, like, add too much salt to something, Keg.” He growled, somehow keeping himself from completely ripping into her. “You didn’t mess up.” They had a toddler and baby twins. Luke knew what a mess up was thoroughly. This was a cultivated decision.

“I have felt so alone, that’s why -"

Luke had no interest in letting her explain herself, "I am alone! I’ve been on the other side of the world for weeks at a time, all the possibility of fucking someone else right in my face. You know I could walk into any room and find someone to fuck any day of the week,” It was a cocky truth to boast, but Luke figures right now it was warranted. “But I don’t. Never.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it before. The idea was surely entertaining when he lonely or starved for affection. “Because I think it would be so fucked up to do something I explicitly promised not to do to you!” He almost roared, knocking his drink down on the mini table behind him, it’s splash dripping down his phone free hand. When Luke let himself think about the situation clearly, he wasn’t sure if the reception was drawn from the indiscretion of making out with Dacre. It was beyond that. It was the make believe relationship she was indulging in with him. It was how she seeked comfort in him. Luke hadn’t yet resolved with himself the anger that came from realizing he may never know the extent of their friendship. How much flirting did they do? Did they hold hands? Did she share her thoughts and hopes with him? Did he text her at all hours and tell her she was beautiful? The emotional infidelity scarred Luke more than the physical affair did. Cagney was crying on the line. He could hear her gasps for air as she sniffled. Luke realized then that frustration had brought reads to his own eyes, but he sniffled once against his bare arm and then tried to be silent. “How do I fix this, Luke?” Her voice was desperate and they both mutually loathed the sound. For Cagney, it was pathetic and she was ashamed of herself. For Luke, it was an out of tune reminder that she had badly hurt him. “Tell me what to do. I want to fix us.” Luke’s sticky fingers played with his hair, fidgeting to keep them busy, as he turned around mindlessly. He pressed his back into the railing, right where the elastic waist of his underwear was exposed. Through the curtains of his hotel room window, Penny was sleeping. Her body took up so little of the king sized bed while she was practically devoured whole in his tee. She had no idea her foundation had deep cracks running through it, cracks caused by careless steps from her parents hooves. Luke felt ashamed himself suddenly and took a loud breath in, feeling it at the bottom of his stomach. “I’ll drop Penelope off tomorrow around 9.” With a blank tone, he told Cagney while looking at the hair that needed trimming on his toes. “Luke, that’s not an answer. Are we going to be okay?" "That’s the only answer I have for you right now.” His throat tightened as he hung up, cutting her next words out. He didn’t know what she could do to help him forgive her, he had no idea if they would be okay, he was lost at the moment. Luke stayed on the balcony for a few more minutes, staring at the traffic but looking at nothing. His mind was everywhere and blank at the same time. He forgot all about his drink and left it on the table, deciding to go inside and adjust Penelope in the bed so her head was resting better on the pillow that had been his backrest before. Luke stared at his daughter in the dark while sitting on the edge of the bed and let the feelings of failure rush through his bloodstream, taking hold of his body. He was about to kiss her head, but he felt like he might start sobbing, so he went into the shower and let himself fall weak in there. Warm water washing over him, trying to clean him off all his bad decisions and pain. He sat on his knees on the floor of the shower, wishing he had a drink and wishing he could sleep the world away. For the first night that week, Luke went to bed consciously. He didn’t pass out, he wasn’t beyond speaking. He purposefully dried himself off after the shower, pulled his boxer briefs back on, and crawled into bed. Despite its large size, Penelope had rolled right into the middle and splayed her limbs out to optimize as much space as her body could. Luke formed a large S around her and fell asleep with the scent of her skin under his nose.

* * * * * ** *

Standing between his knees, pulling u comfortable faces, Penelope finished her breakfast toast and strawberry jam while her Dad brushed the tangles out of her hair sitting on the messy bed. “We’re home today?” The hotel felt like a tropical vacation to the little girl. “I’m dropping you off and then I’m going to work.” He explained while working on one particularly stern knot at the end of her long hair. “I wish you were home.” She whined, unknowingly punching him with guilt. “We can have a lunch or beach date soon.” Luke had yet to sort out how he was going to go about seeing his brood. He didn’t know if Penelope would figure out that he wasn’t home much anymore or if she would be used to his occasional absences from his job. He still didn’t know when he would be ready to sit down and talk to his wife. Luke was still just upset. His offer of a private hang out was enough for Penelope. She backed up against him as he stopped pulling on her hair with his brush and gave all her attention to the sticky jam on her fingers. He hid his eyes behind sunglasses and drove his girl home with one of his favorite Live Metallica albums playing. Penelope didn’t seem to mind the noise. She was counting palm trees up to ten and then starting again while holding her mermaid doll under one armpit. Luke didn’t even turn off his car when he pulled up in front of the house. He let it run and hustled to unstrap Penelope from her car seat. After sliding the straps of her backpack over her shoulders, he gave her a gentle tap on the back to insinuate it was time to go, walking behind her to the door. They weren’t even at the cement steps by the time Cagney snuck out the door. Penelope picked up her pace and ran for her mum, hugging her at the hips as soon as they met. “I missed you.” Hugging the little girl back, Cagney cooed. “I missed you too.” Penny mumbled into her mother’s legs, bare due to small jean shorts. She chose a tight pair in hopes to look attractive to her husband. “Wanna go say hi to grandma?” Cagney asked once Penny had let go of her. “Grandma’s here!” The little girl bounced, both women not noticing Luke’s eye roll. “See you later, Pen.” Grabbing his daughter’s attention again, Luke nodded at her. She took the steps carefully and ran to hug him again. She squeezed him with all her strength once he bent down at the waist to hug and kiss her back. “Be good, okay?” He prompted her, taking her eager nod as a promise before she took off into the house. It was just him and Cagney, forcing a wedge in his throat. Luke backed up a couple steps and tried to fight the burn in his stomach. “Do you want to come in?” Suspecting he didn’t, Cagney tried anyway. “No.” Especially not if his mother in law was still there. “I have Saturday to myself until the evening, I’ll take the boys out.” He told her. “What’s in the evening?” She may have hurt him, but it was still natural for her to ask about his schedule. It had been the one her life ran on for so long. She could see how badly she wounded him. He was carrying himself low around her, head down and hiding his face as if to not let her see the pain she covered it in. Cagney felt weak at the knees. She was the bad guy. This tension was on her. “Just a thing. Nothing.” Luke lied. He didn’t want to tell her. She would hate that he was going out and he also didn’t want her to show up. Right now, Luke craved space. For a moment, he glanced at her with half a wave tossed out of courtesy in her direction. “Wait, Luke!” She pushed herself off the door, but he didn’t turn around to see her. Luke simply slowed down his steps. “When are you coming home?" Once he stopped, Luke inhaled and thought about it before turning to her with a blank expression and shoulder shrug as an offer. "When I can be around you.” She complained about being alone, but Luke had no desire to stand by her side now. Leaving her with glossy eyes, Luke shrugged again and left. He turned up the volume of his music to the highest decimal and drove as fast as he could to the studio. He had some things that were screaming in the cage of his body to get out. If there was a cure for his current rage, he knew he would only find it in the studio.

#luke hemmings au #5sos au

46 notes · View notes

disparais · 4 years

Text

dear ma-ma,

where do i even start?

i didn’t know it, but you are one of the most important people in my life - one of my constants that accompanied me from childhood through young adulthood. i know you will be with me for the rest of my life.

there are so many golden memories we have shared. i wish there had been someone to capture them all - your primness and fussiness, your faux annoyance, your doting smile.

you were here before my memories even began, holding chubby little me and looking at me like i was the most precious thing you had ever seen. i take pride in being able to squeeze a proper smile out of you on camera, because of the prim barely-there smiles you favour.

in my early childhood, you came over just about every other day. you’d drive your manual nissan sunny carefully, wearing your sunglasses and looking more chic than i could ever hope to. you always had fisherman’s peppermints and fox sweets in your handbag, and always slipped me a sweet treat before afternoon naps on my dreamy blue mattress. afternoons with you were the best, where you’d close the heavy curtains and turn on the air-conditioner, and pat-pat me to sleep.

i remember fighting with you over the channels on every single television available to us. you always wanted to watch teletext, astute investor that you were, and i always wanted to watch little bear (but also i just wanted to annoy you sometimes because it was hilarious getting you riled up). that’s how you became mama bear to me. (and yes, you more or less always gave in to me. i know you enjoyed these little fights too.)

yes, i also definitely deliberately aimed the fan at your hair occasionally, delighting in your ruffled feathers as you crossly patted your hair back into place.

thursday lunches with you and kong-kong were the best. i felt like a little princess going out with you both to the hotel, eating my favourite dim-sum and scampering around the hotel between courses. some days we’d eat at jack’s place too - it will always have a special place in my heart because of how much you enjoyed the experience of eating there.

whether at thursday lunches or sunday dinners, you always checked to make sure i was enjoying the food, and that i had eaten enough. you always advocated to order the dishes i really loved, and made sure to take note of what i liked so that you could remember to order it again the next time round. you always gave me the last coveted piece of food.

i definitely get my love for ice-cream and grocery shopping from you. perhaps my favourite memories are the golden afternoons where we’d share a 25-cent vanilla cone, then go to ntuc where i’d push your trolley around and take pride in carrying your groceries. i still do this for amy all the time, even though she complains that i’m too obsessive about keeping the trolley neat.

on the drives home, you’d always complain about everything under the sun. i have no idea why, but your complaining is the funniest thing ever and you’d always ask me faux-sternly what i was laughing at. i don’t know if you knew that sometimes i’d tell you a triggering detail just to provoke another mini-rant, just for my entertainment.

your home was more or less my second home. so many of my sun-tinged memories were forged here. i’d delight in digging up your tiny garden, only to hit the paving of gravel perhaps 20 centimeters into the ground. i certainly felt like a little adult, wielding the little trowel and thinking i was helping the plants flourish by “turning the soil”.

somehow, you’d allow me back into your spotless house (i always tell people i’d be willing to eat an entire meal off your floor, it was that clean), sternly instructing me to scrub my hands and feet clean before continuing to run amok.

you allowed me to drape a mattress and your comforter over the clothes rack in the spare room, where i loved to build my own blanket fort and hide out. even though you probably thought it was silly, you indulged me anyway, just like you did my soft toy show-and-tells. i am so glad some of my soft toys got to meet you; i loved shocking you with fog, and i am sure he will remember you always too. fatty will probably remember you, since he remembers anyone who calls him out for being fat.

perhaps the adult in my life who was the most supportive of my sweet tooth, you always offered me chocolates from your fridge. fearful of my mother’s reproach, i started to decline when i grew a bit older, but looking back, i wish i had accepted every one. it’s not like i didn’t sneak a truffle or two sometimes, when my cravings overcame my ability to resist.

you were always so happy when i slept over. only upon looking back that i realize your half-jokes about when i would sleep over again were not as much jokes as much as they were your way of expressing that you love and miss tiny me. i’m so sorry i didn’t realize before it was too late.

you’d complain that i was a “lazy pig” who was hard to rouse from bed and loved to nap, but you did so with a smile - and you were the one who would always turn your air-con on on full blast and ask me to sleep, you totally set me up! somehow, sharing a room with you, sleep was never far from me, even though the same cannot be said about the mosquitoes.

but my favourite memories of you have to be family dinners. not the sunday dinners, where i had to dress up in stiff frocks and be on my best behaviour as the littlest hotel heiress. just the regular dinners at your house, where you captured my heart with your food, which has always been and likely will always be the best home-cooked food to me. where dinner always started at 6pm, and being the playful kid that i was, it’d take multiple shouts to tear a reluctant little me away from my blanket fort and trot down the stairs.

i used to clamour to eat at your place all the time. i probably upset my mom because i said nowhere else had food like yours, especially the food at our own house which was way worse. (this is objective and i still stand by it - you’re the only person that consistently cooks vegetables so delicious you have me scrambling to finish the entire plate.) she commented that you probably added msg to your dishes, but i always believe you didn’t - your dishes were always delicious in a way that no artificial flavouring could achieve.

i promise i will learn the recipes that are close to our hearts. it is so fortunate that you passed a few on to my helpers - much as you disliked them, i know you wanted me to be able to enjoy the dishes i loved so much. i regret that you never got to try food i personally prepared, but i will always vividly remember the taste of your cooking, and strive to recreate our dinner classics. please excuse me while i list them:

- finely chopped chinese cabbage / phuay leng with sukiyaki beef stir-fry - phuay leng and garlic stir-fry - prawns in tomato sauce with white onions - sausage or scallion omelette - chicken abalone chinese cabbage button mushroom soup - crab meat ball and bamboo shoot soup

there is no price i would not pay to get to eat a dinner together one last time, and perhaps even be the one to cook it for you.

you are so inspirational. i do not know any other person who truly started with hardly anything, lived through the horrors of the japanese occupation, then turned their lives around to become so wildly successful. amy says during your first job as a cashier, you began dabbling in investments, and subsequently ended up fired because you were checking stock indices and planning investments on the job. she says you have the midas touch, and i definitely believe that - everything you touched is cast with a golden hue in the halls of my mind. you got to fall in love with kong-kong, and travel europe and america, and have two beautiful daughters who love and care for you like no other. i wonder how ruby feels about this loss - surely your broker had to be close to you in some way, given how often i saw you calling her.

despite starting with nothing, you worked and saved and invested to build up your reserves. you even kindly offered to sponsor my school fees, knowing that my brother is such a financial stressor on my family. i dearly wish you had been able to see me graduate - i wanted to tell my parents to give up one of their tickets to you at my graduation, because i know it was such a dream for you to see me become a fully-fledged doctor. i will study hard and strive to be a good doctor in the years to come. i will do my best by all my patients, and strive to have a heart for them and their family just like your doctors did for you and ours.

in spite of your family turmoil, you were the only one who had the heart to check in on aunty betty, calling her daily to engage her, even when her own children had disowned her because of what she had done to them. you made amends with your other remaining siblings in your later years, and i hope that was healing in some way.

you definitely have a place in the hearts of the old ladies in church, who always ask after you. even though church may not mean the same thing to you that it does to amy, pauline or even myself, i know it was special to you, because you made time for it - and you were never the kind to spend a moment frivolously (well, besides watching those awful channel 8 dramas. not that i will ever admit i would be riveted to the terrible acting whenever i was sprawled out on the sofa after dinner).

i have no idea how i missed all the signs that you were getting older. perhaps i didn’t want to see them.

when you fell in january 2019, i thought that might be the end of the road. i am so grateful to the surgeons for bringing you back from the brink that time. it was touch and go, but you were always such a fighter. i admire your zest for life and your willingness to cling on for dear life to any chance to survive. i am so thankful that you were able to get discharged last july/august, and that we had almost a full year more where we could still spend time with you, and bring food to you.

you fought so hard to get this second operation. i will always think of the what-ifs and wonder how long more you could have had with us, had you not gone - but deep down inside i know this is exactly what you wanted. you always were so bold and proactive about wanting to get the best out of life, and i know that given a second chance you would still have gotten the operation. you were hopeful almost all the way, and it breaks my heart that while you were still conscious at the end, you were aware that the surgical outcome was not as we had hoped for. it breaks my heart that your last days were spent in the hospital, not in the comfort of your warm and cosy home that you had worked so hard to maintain.

you are so loved. i’m so sorry i never had the courage to tell you this while you were still awake. i wish i had known that last weekend was the last time your eyes would be open. yesterday, i told you all the things i never dared to say while you were still awake. i wept over the seeming unfairness of it all, and how fast it all happened. i begged for another dinner together. i told you it was okay to let go; you had to be tired - if not in spirit, at least in body.

at the time, i wasn’t sure if you could hear me, but after steven and joel went, i am sure you were there. amy told me that your blood pressure was fluctuating but still holding up when gemma left 10 minutes prior to their arrival. by the time they entered the room, the blood pressure dropped to 50/30, and your heart rate had slowed from your usual tachycardic state to 55. joel said a prayer over you, and then amy watched as your vitals dropped to zero. amy said it took less than 5 minutes. the timing is nothing short of miraculous. i knew then that even when the time was up, you fought so hard to stay, just to say goodbye to steven and joel. your spirit and tenacity always astound me.

i miss you so much already. you loved me so much and so well and i’m so sorry i never made enough time to show you how much you mattered to me as well. but you have fought the good fight, and finished the race. you spent your whole life working and striving for a better life. you deserve eternal rest and peace.

i hope you are somewhere better now. somewhere where you get to eat everything you wanted to, somewhere sparkling clean and comfortable, somewhere nice and fancy, where the breeze is gentle and won’t mess up your hair. i hope you’re able to walk arm in arm with kong-kong again, and embrace eternity with him.

in time, i too will join you. one day we will have sunday dinners again. until then, safe travels and rest well. i love you.

love, isabel

p.s. don’t be a worrywart. we will be fine, i promise.

#mama

0 notes

bakurapika · 7 years

Text

"Wait up, Greg!" Wirt hollered. He could already see the tea kettle receding over the horizon, sun glinting through the metal. Wirt groaned, speeding up to catch up. That kid. The littlest thing could divert his attention-this time it had been a woodpecker that Greg was absolutely sure had made eye contact with him, meaning, of course, that they were destined to be best friends.

"A sign!" he was shouting to Wirt now, apparently having stopped his pursuit to wait for his older brother, a rare but welcome break.

"A sign of what?" Wirt called. Probably a sign of Greg and the woodpecker's everlasting friendship. "Greg, most birds can't talk, I'm sure the woodpecker just wants to get back to his… bird… family… without getting bugged by some-"

"A falls sign!"

"Wha-?" Wirt finally edged up the hill far enough to see Greg and a billboard. Great. A tourist town. "Gravity Falls is the name of the town, Greg," he said after reading it. "They must have a waterfall or something. Probably a lot of mosquitos and tourists."

"And woodpeckers!"

"Yeah. And woodpeckers," Wirt acknowledged. Greg's best friend was hammering his beak into the billboard wood like there was no tomorrow, so Greg was already proven correct.

"Do woodpeckers get along with frogs?"

"I, I dunno, Greg. I think some birds eat tadpoles, but Jason Funderburker is way too old to even fit in its mouth. And a woodpecker mostly eats bugs in trees, right? They have those huge tongues that wrap behind their skulls to cushion the impact when they drill into the bark, and then they use those to fish out some kind of insects. I've never heard of one being in marshland, but it's not like I'm an expert. Do woodpeckers and frogs even share a climate? How, how far away from home do you think we are, Greg?" Wirt rambled a while as Greg shimmied up the billboard to get closer to the bird, pulling Jason Funderburker from under his teapot as a means of introducing the two.

Greg made an "I dunno" sound. "If they're friends, woodpeckers and frogs share everything, because sharing is caring," he said happily. "That's a frog fact."

Wirt gave him a grateful look. He wasn't particularly enlightened by Greg's stream of made-up facts, but they made him remember the Rock Facts Rock they'd left in Mrs. Daniels' garden. And how Greg almost hadn't had the chance to do so. He almost wanted to do something sappy, but the moment quickly slipped away as Greg did, right off the billboard.

"Greg!" Wirt shouted, sprinting forward, but Greg picked himself up like it was nothing and gave the okay sign.

"I'm right as rain, brother o' mine!"

Wirt laughed shakily in relief, running a hand through his hair and dislodging his hat. "Yeah… yeah. Don't scare me like that!"

Greg frowned. "It's not like it would hurt."

"You don't know that. You were really high up!"

"I do so know that!" Greg argued, meandering away from the billboard down the highway, further into town. "I just tested it! Scientifically!"

"That's not what science is."

Jason Funderburker hopped at their heels, croaking.

"See? It's two against one, Wirt!"

"Frogs don't get a vote."

"Do so!"

Wirt stooped to pick up the frog, who croaked again. "Oh, whoop, he just changed his mind. He says I'm right."

Greg stopped short, his expression stricken with betrayal. "Jason Funderburker, how could you?!"

Wirt laughed, dropping the frog on Greg's tea kettle as the two of them wandered deeper into Gravity Falls, disappearing unnoticed into the early morning mist.

The town wasn't big. They'd been through dozens of towns just like it, or very similar, anyway. It was a picturesque little place surrounded and invaded by woods that had Wirt murmuring things like, "From the beginning to the end, an army of treetops invades my senses, an ouroboros of arboreal infinities." That, in turn, led to a small lecture on what an "ouroboros" was, and then a heated argument between the siblings over whether a snake could truly eat itself. (Wirt maintained that no, it could swallow partway before it would be too full and couldn't fit, and anyway what kind of real snake would eat itself; while Greg focused on whether a snake biting its tail could be used as a wheel on a bicycle if necessary.)

From a hilly outcrop the two boys could see the Falls for which the town got its name, as well as a sprawling cliff that Greg said looked like a UFO had crashed into it, though Wirt told him that was patently ridiculous. A water tower with a muffin on it got Greg's attention and they spent an hour climbing it and enjoying the view.

From the top, Greg waved enthusiastically down to the few people who were up so early in the morning. "Hey, do you think any of them have a phone?" he asked Wirt.

"Probably," Wirt said. It was weird being so high up without feeling the wind tousling his hair; he thought about that, dangling his fingers down over the guardrail. "Why?"

"Because you kept wanting to find one before and you haven't got one yet."

It took Wirt a second to realize what Greg meant. "In Pottsfield? That was different, Greg. I'm pretty sure they don't have phones in the Unknown."

"But they do in Gravity Falls?"

"Yeah. They're not much use to us now, though."

Greg nodded wisely, rubbing his chin. "Because phone booths cost a quarter, and I threw out our cents."

Wirt opened his mouth but rethought his response, finally saying, "Something like that."

"Maybe we'll find some loose change!"

"Maybe." Wirt readjusted his hat, then grabbed the ladder, swinging down over it. "Hey, I think I saw a bear in the woods. Wanna go check that out?"

"Local wildlife!" Greg said excitedly, clambering through Wirt and down the ladder. "Let's go let's go! Maybe the bear knows the woodpecker and they can get us in good with the secret forest animal club and..." His voice faded as he went down.

Wirt laughed and followed him. "Wait! Wait up, Greg!"

But Greg was gone by the time Wirt reached the ground. "Not again," he groused to himself, spinning around and scanning the horizon line for a kettle. Wirt huffed, but headed in the direction he'd seen the bear.

Following Greg around was a full-time job, Wirt decided as he went above the treetops to look around and saw only dense foliage. He should be fairly compensated. When they were able to talk again, Wirt decided he'd ask his mom for babysitting money. Paid retroactively. On special nights where his parents went out and he'd gotten stuck watching Greg, he got about three bucks an hour. And if they'd been in the Unknown for, say, a week and a half… and he spent about half that time actually watching Greg… Not to mention all this time since they'd gotten back from the Unknown… Wirt was so focused on his mental calculations that he didn't notice Greg til he'd nearly walked right through him.

"It's the bear!" Greg told Wirt as though they hadn't separated at all. Wirt looked where Greg pointed. And nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What, wha, what, what's wrong with it?!"

One of the bear's many heads lifted to sniff the air curiously.

"Nothing," said Greg. "It's a good bear." And he made as if to go pet it.

"Greg," Wirt said in a harsh whisper. "Don't!"

Greg's had hovered over the bear's pelt, the fur rising to nearly meet the surface of his palm.

And then the bear said, "Who's there?" in a deep rumbling voice, and Wirt shouted, "Running now!" and didn't wait for Greg to follow until he had scrambled a few hundred feet away.

Greg said "Goodbye, mister bear!" and followed Wirt, saying, "Run, run, run!" as if they were playing a game. Wirt turned and kept sprinting until they were spat out of the forest and back onto the outskirts of Gravity Falls.

Greg laughed, not out of breath at all. Wirt tried to scold him, but found that he was laughing too. "Wha, haha, what was that thing?!"

"It was a bear!"

"Yeah, but we haven't seen anything like that since, y'know, since we left the Unknown!" Wirt slowly stopped laughing and frowned at the forest. "What was with all those heads? Was it mutated or something?"

"I think," Greg said with a smile, "Gravity Falls is full of magic."

Wirt shook his head but smiled back. "Yeah, okay, Greg."

"And mystery!"

"Mhmm."

"So I'm gonna go in and see." Greg eyed the huge building they were next to, dazzled by the arrows and signs proclaiming the greatest mysteries of the world being held inside.

"Alright." Wirt stared at the treeline. "Wait. Go in where?"

When he turned his head, Greg was already running into the Mystery Shack.

#mine #otgw fic #gf fic #over the gravity falls #gravity falls fic #1 of w/e

8 notes · View notes

prosperopedia · 5 years

Text

Why We Choose to Homeschool Our Kids

My wife and I currently homeschool three of our four school-aged kids. We plan to ultimately homeschool all of our children for at least some portion of their early education, possibly through high school.

We often have had to defend our decision to homeschool over the past six years following our decision to take our kids out of the school system and teach them (more appropriately, create an environment for them to learn) in our home and in other family settings. Although the culture and attitude towards homeschooling are much different now than they were when I was in school in the 1980s and 90s, there is still a significant amount of stigma attached to scenarios where children are kept out of the normal school system. As I’ve done on many occasions responding to inquisitive people, I will explain why my wife and I chose to homeschool our children as an alternative to having them attend public schools, charter schools, or private schools, and why we continue with that educational approach after six years of doing so.

The decision we made in 2012 to break from the ranks of those parents who send their children off to school and enjoy 7-8 hours of free time (for stay at home moms; dads are usually away at work anyhow) meant that we’d need to take on an entire new career for both my wife and me. We added to our roles as parents, protectors, and providers for our kids the responsibility of being academic instructors for them as well, raising the stakes of what it means for us to be responsible for the development of each and all of our children.

Some Background About Us

My wife and I were educated in public schools. Both of us were involved in lots of activities that kept us busy nearly year round.

Throughout my grade school years, I wrestled and played baseball, football, basketball, and other sports. Although I have always enjoyed learning, I wasn’t a very serious student all the way through high school. I did make sure to do enough to keep my grades high because of my parents’ expectations, knowing in the back of my mind that it would someday be important for college, the place where careers were said to be made. I really enjoyed the social life. I loved the independence I found each morning as I headed off to school, checked in with all my buddies, flirted and hung out with the girls, and navigated life as a youth making his way toward adulthood.

The public school systems in Florida/Utah (for me) and Texas (where my wife grew up) weren’t necessarily bad for us. I did get into more than my fair share of fights at school in Florida before my parents moved my family to Utah. I also remember watching lots of Andy Griffith reruns during chemistry classes, and I recall often getting permission from my physics teacher to skip class and head over to the school weight room to test out theories about gravity.

When I met and married my wife, I never recall her ditching on her public school education. She had good memories of cheerleading, friends, and striving for straight A’s.

After high school, we both attended college (where we met), and we both obtained college degrees. Based on that background, you might say that my wife and I are both pretty standard products of the American schooling system.

However, here we are, homeschool parents.

Here’s how that happened.

A Spiritual, Faith-Based Environment for Education

Just before my own graduation from Orem High School in 1994, I was asked by one of the officers of my senior class to give an “unofficial” prayer as we prepared to make our way into the civic center where we would listen to speeches and receive our diplomas. It seemed strange to me that we were not allowed to participate in a prayer as a part of the official proceedings, and that we had to sort of “sneak” one in prior to the graduation ceremony.

Since my graduation, I have become much more committed to religion, even more so as I became an imperfect parent needing divine direction to raise my children. My wife and I are a highly religious couple, which means that we have always considered education to be as much or more a spiritual matter as a secular one.

As we all well know, today’s public school system is no place for religion, no place for prayer, no place for scriptures. In contrast, my wife and I are certain that an education that attempts to instruct the mind without providing eternal perspective and training the heart and soul falls far short of its potential.

One of the most important reasons we homeschool our kids is to instill in them our deeply held religious values.

That one priority rules out public schools and charter schools, both of which are funded by tax dollars, which means that neither of those options is allowed to use a faith-based perspective for educating.

What About a Christian Private School?

When our oldest child was three years old, my wife and I decided to move a half hour away to the north part of our county specifically to be closer to a locally well-known Christian (LDS) private school called American Heritage School. We had toured the school and felt great about its commitment to solid religious and secular education as well as its emphasis on the principles of freedom promoted by the Founding Fathers of this country.

We enrolled our daughter in American Heritage School as a kindergartner, and she attended there for three years, including as a second grader while her younger brother, our oldest son, attended kindergarten. They both loved proudly wearing their school uniforms and going off to school each day.

In fact, we love the school so much that whenever we have a child ready to start school and enter kindergarten, we put him into American Heritage School. This gives them a chance to build some independence and experience the excitement of being part of a school community. Then, as has been our tradition, the following school year, we put them back into our homeschool system, where they learn beside their siblings and parents.

Despite how much we enjoyed American Heritage School, having our kids spend 7-8 hours a day, five days a week there didn’t fit our needs.

Building Family Relationships

My wife has been reading and telling me about a fascinating book called Hold On To Your Kids: Why Parents Need to Matter More Than Peers. The book details the dangers of peer orientation among youth and encourages affected parents to earn back their kids loyalty and love so that they don’t become victims of a peer group that severely damages their development and well-being.

Hold On To Your Kids articulates well what we’ve felt motivated to do since our oldest started going to school. It is important to us as parents that our kids trust us, that they develop a close relationship with us as friends, mentors, and confidants. It is also important that they establish strong bonds among their siblings, so that they can continue to provide support for each other throughout their lives. The family unit is naturally that protective and nurturing shelter designed for giving kids their best chances at success.

My wife and I are both into sports. We love to play and watch football, baseball, basketball, and other sports. Our kids also naturally love sports, which means that we spend a lot of time at practices and games.

We also decided early on in our marriage that music would be a big component of our family. Each of our children begins learning a musical instrument by age six.

While my two oldest were attending American Heritage School, we found that we were simply short on time. We would send our kindergartner and 2nd grader to school for a large portion of the day, then having them practice their musical instruments, participate in sports, finish homework, and do chores, we found that there was simply too little time for us to spend with each of them before it was time for them to go to bed.

Often when people ask me why my kids are not “in school”, my reply is simply this: “We don’t have time for it.”

That may sound to some like a lame reason to keep kids out of school (especially a great, highly affordable private school), but really is a legitimate concern for a busy family. When our kids were in school, even one that we loved being associated with, their schedules were too full to allow us to have the critical time left over at the end of the day to develop important relationships between them and us as their parents.

Teaching kids at home can be done much more efficiently than in a classroom setting. Sending them off to a school where they are learning with 15 – 30 other kids whose interests and aptitudes vary widely simply cannot compete with the efficiency that’s possible with homeschooling. I’ve seen estimates that only one-third of the time (an average of about 6 hours per day across the nation) kids are at school is actually spend doing valuable learning activities. One mom’s calculations estimate puts actual instruction time spent in most classrooms at only 100 minutes (less than two hours) per day.

When kids are able to learn in an efficient way in the home, they can quickly work through what we consider mandatory, and they have more free time to spend with their siblings and parents as well as their friends. This has become more difficult for us as we’ve added more kids to the mix, and we are constantly looking for ways to watch and interact with the littlest ones while giving guidance, feedback, motivation, and discipline to our older ones. It helps that my career allows me to work from home and often step in to help my wife with her roles.

Personalized, Adapted Curriculum

One of the important things my wife and I have learned as parents is that you cannot use a template to all of them. For one, girls learn differently from boys. And each of our five boys has his own unique interests, capabilities, and approach to pretty much everything, including learning. That variety exists even within our own family, where the home culture is consistent and genetics are pretty similar.

Although we try to treat our children as consistently as possible to be fair and just, including in how we discipline them and educate them, their individual uniquenesses require a significant level of personalization and adaptation.

The personalization and adaptation required by most children to bring out their unique potentials is very difficult to achieve in a standardized classroom, especially when teachers are required to teach with the objective of having their students pass standardized tests.

Because it has grown out of control over the past hundred years, the federal government has far too much influence over local school curriculum, which exacerbates the problem of providing adaptable education to children for whom decisions are being made by people who live (in many cases) thousands of miles away and whose local cultures, values, and needs are not well understood by the bureaucrats who establish the standards for their education.

Part of our homeschooling experience involved moving to Costa Rica for six months with the intention of having our kids learn Spanish and gain some culture experience while learning to appreciate the Costa Rican culture and Latin America more generally. In addition to picking up some basic Spanish (my daughter actually reads and speaks at a conversational level now), our kids learned about using a different currency and exchange rates with the US dollar, making friends with people who they can barely speak to, and how to adapt to a new, very different living situation. That kind of education, especially for young kids can’t be matched in a school system.

During our Costa Rica experience, my daughter read a 600-page book about the Panama Canal, after which I took her and my son on a trip down to the canal to learn about it in person.

Homeschooling allows us to provide our kids with education that is catered to their specific needs and interests.

Instilling a Love of Learning

When I ask the kids I interact with – friends of my kids from sports teams, church, and other social settings – what they think about school, the majority of them have very negative attitudes about the school environment itself and are typically not excited about learning.

In contrast, I have noticed among the homeschooling groups that we associate with that the kids are generally eager to learn. They take more personal responsibility for their education, which seems to be a product of their involvement in choosing curriculum that suits their interests.

In homeschool settings, learning tends to become a way of life rather than a chore to be done from August to May each year. Outside of the official structured learning schedule, we find opportunities arise all the time because our kids have been conditioned to be naturally curious about the history of a person who comes up in conversation or an area we are visiting. They constantly want to know how things work, and they’re assertive about putting together pieces of their education puzzle outside of structured school time.

For instance, I recently announced to my son and daughter that we’re going to take a trip to China in the next few months for business purposes, to visit some friends, and for a cultural experience. Without even being encouraged, my daughter (with our permission) bought the Pimsleur program for learning Chinese and has spent at least an hour a day learning the language so that she can speak to the people we’ll meet in China in their own language.

Learning should be a constant lifelong objective, and that attitude should be planted in the hearts and minds of kids when they’re young. I’ve seen too many situations where public schools have exterminated that love in kids who don’t do well in that setting.

When homeschooling is done well, kids quickly become self-reliant in their pursuit of knowledge. They learn to teach themselves and find ways to obtain the information they need.

Avoiding the Distractions and Damage of Popular Culture

Whenever I see kids on the baseball field, at church, at community activities, and in other public settings constantly, mindlessly (often even subconsciously) doing the “floss” dance, it makes me wonder why kids are so prone to following the popular trend and why their parents seem so comfortable with that approach. It’s not necessarily that there’s something inherently wrong with a goofy looking dance move, but anyone willing to be observant will recognize that there are detrimental side effects associated with popular culture. The trend setters who create that culture are not concerned about the positive development of children.

Video games like Fortnite (which by itself has done much to replace potential musicians, scholars, and other high achievers with a generation of zombies), trends towards sarcasm and general negativity, songs with lyrics that are demeaning and destructive, social media and cyberbullying, and the pervasiveness of liberal ideas that won’t stop until girls and boys are not allowed to recognize their God-given differences make it highly necessary to be vigilant about what influences are acting upon their children.

Homeschooling allows us to keep our kids free enough from the vortex of popular opinion and trends, most of which directly conflict with our religious beliefs and our value system.

An Accelerated Learning Environment

Homeschooling allows kids to set their own learning pace so that it continues to be fulfilling for them.

Several years ago I was familiar with a situation wherein a neighbor switched his son from an accelerated private school into public school where he could have better access to sports. Immediately after the transition, this intelligent, high performing teenager began struggling with getting good grades. He also started hanging around in a social group that his parents didn’t approve of.

My friend’s only explanation for his son’s turn was that he went from thriving because he was challenged to struggling because he was bored and unfulfilled. The difference was obvious in that scenario. In the more common scenario, parents are unable to observe a difference because their children start off in public school, and the poor performance is wrongly attributed to the child being a bad student.

The school system in the United States tends to lock children into a structure that holds many of them back. Because the education pace of the entire nation is set based on the collective school ecosystem, the lowest common denominators often become the standard. This creates an system that is consistently iterating downward. While there are ways for the most assertive students and parents to set a pace closer to what’s more natural for them, by taking AP classes and other accelerated programs, overall there is a huge net loss in productivity and sense of fulfillment.

Homeschooled kids don’t normally feel like they are being throttled in their efforts to learn.

The post-secondary education system in the United States is failing as evidenced by the record levels of debt taken on by students, who are defaulting at a rate of 22%, more than one-fifth. Going to college for a four-year degree has switched from being a way to get ahead to being a serious financial burden.

Because homeschooling allows kids to go at their own pace, they can complete a four-year college degree while still in grade school for a much cheaper cost than what they would spend going off to college after high school. Having a college degree by 18 years old is certainly possible for many kids. Completing that goal gives them a great advantage financially and in career path over those who start college as adults and finish their degrees four years later with the burden of student debt.

Being Assertive About What Kids Learn (and Don’t Learn)

Aside from the pup culture influence that exists in public schools, I often find myself surprised at the things that kids are learning and not learning in public school settings. Much of it is very different from what I’d prefer my children learn.

For our family, it is important that we are well-educated on the heritage and accurate history of the creation of the United States of America, including the sacrifices and inspiration associated with the Founding Fathers. Conservative principles, including self-government, the exceptional role of the United States as advocate for freedom throughout the world, and the personal merits of men like George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and others are frequently topics used in teaching our kids.

We strongly feel that the government, the culture, and the approach to education used when this country originated were divinely inspired and led to prosperity. The principles of freedom, self-reliance, accountability, religious faith, and selflessness are what took the United States from an upstart colony to the most powerful country in the history of civilization.

The books and other curriculum materials being used in public schools, charter schools, and even in some private schools are generally highly disloyal to the original mission of this country. Revisionist historians have concocted a different story about America that’s largely untrue, and much of the contemporary curriculum used to teach history, social studies, and even in technical and science-related fields have a spin to them that we choose not to use when teaching our kids.

The power of the federal government and its heavy hand in determining the framework for education throughout the country makes us uncomfortable. With all of the varying perspectives used to create educational material, home school allows our family to use what fits best with our own approach to learning.

Should We Join the Crowd to Avoid Being Left Out?

Because there exists a constant pull towards conformity in our society, my wife and I frequently have conversations that involve asking the question, “Are we doing the right thing with our family?” After some discussion about alternatives, we always come back to the conclusion that there is no need to try to become like everyone else at the expense of going after our family objectives and becoming who we want to become.

An example of this reassurance process happened recently.

Just prior to the beginning of this school year, my daughter found out in Sunday School at church that she was the only person in her class, consisting of several of her age group peers in our neighborhood, who was not invited to a back-to-school gathering for those who were seventh graders in the few blocks around our home. Invitations to the party were coordinated and handed out by a mom who knew all of the girls well, including my daughter. The decision was made to not invite my daughter because “she’s not technically in seventh grade since she’s a homeschooler.”

It’s one thing to hold a neighborhood party and exclude someone who, as could have been identified with only a slight appeal to thoughtfulness, was obviously part of the peer group. It’s another thing to spend half of a Sunday School class two days later discussing how fun the party was and in front of the person who was left out.

The whole incident blew up at church when my wife found out that my daughter was upset and embarrassed about the situation. Mothers of the other girls jumped in to offer consolation and provide recommendations for avoiding the problem in the future. The solution proposed by several of them to my wife was this: put your daughter into public school so she won’t get left out.

When my wife explained to me how the whole fifteen minute scene went down, my natural reaction to these mothers’ “told you so” indictments of our homeschooling habit was the formation in my mind of a hypothetical conversation. In fact, although I didn’t actually say this to those who were involved, this conversation certainly took place in my head.

“So you think that putting our daughter into public school will solve her problem of being left out.”

“Let me articulate what you’re telling me…”

“Your group of parents and kids intentionally excluded a girl from an activity and then informed her that she was made an exception to the group simply because she is homeschooled. Do you see the lack of thoughtfulness by both parents and their kids in that scenario?”

“But you’re telling me that the solution to that is for us to join in with that crowd?”

“Do you see the irony in your proposed solution? We’ll pass!”

You can see why I decided against actually verbalizing those statements in the conversation among many of my close neighbors. They certainly would have offended someone, but I’ll use the situation make the point here. From what I’ve observed among the homeschooling parents we associate with, they are typically more vigilant about parenting, more thoughtful and observant. They and their children are less cliquish. Homeschooled kids are more likely to not have age and other social barriers. Among the ones I know, they are more likely to speak confidently with adults on one hand and not above playing with younger kids on the other.

Whatever causes that social dynamic among homeschooled kids, I like it. Whatever causes kids in public school programs to get their value out of excluding others and creating cliques, I don’t want my children to be part of it.

Education Options Are Fluid

One of the concerns I’ve had about keeping our kids away from the school experience is knowing how much I loved going to school as a kid. It was a blast for me, and I felt a sense of community with many of my fellow students, athletes, teachers, coaches, and others I interacted with.

My wife and I regularly evaluate what our kids’ needs are and take steps to make sure they are developing as they should. It is possible that in the future, it will make sense that they go to a public, charter, or private school. We will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Although we are always open to doing whatever works best for our kids, I think we’re good homeschooling for the foreseeable future.

The post Why We Choose to Homeschool Our Kids appeared first on The Handbook for Happiness, and Success, and Prosperity Prosperopedia.

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2T0U0a6 via IFTTT

#Prosperity #Wealth #Riches

0 notes