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alcinadimitrescuwu · 3 years

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Welcome to the Family, Boy (Alcina x Fem!Reader Fanfic)

First thank you all for your support for my first Dimitrescu fanfic. I truly appreciate it and all the support this community has given me on. Let's go on to the next one, shall we?

Premise: After a long and stressful week, your wife Alcina wants to help you let off some steam. However, your amorous activities are cut short by an unexpected surprise.

Warning: blood. There are some steamy scenes in here but nothing explicit, so it's mostly safe for work.

As you climb the stairs to your bedroom, you heave a great sigh. It’s been a long and stressful week. Daniela had caused a small fire in the wine cellar basement by knocking over a lantern when she had gotten a little too eager for a feeding. It was eventually put out, but the corpse was burned in the process. Alcina had been furious at the waste of resources. It had taken a full day to get rid of the ash, but the basement was clean. Well, as clean as it could be. Aside from the wine cellar, Alcina didn’t seem to care much about cleaning up the basement. Well, it was over now. Now you just couldn’t wait to curl up next to your wife and get a good sleep.

You arrive at your doorway and hear Maria Callas singing “Casta Diva” from within. You smile. Your mutual love for opera was one of the first things you discussed as you were courting. Before you reach your hand to knock at the door, you hear Alcina call, “Is that you iubirea mea?”

“Yes, dear,” you reply. You stretch your arms behind your head. “Oh, I just can’t wait to get into bed-” Your voice cuts off as you see what your wife is wearing. She is wearing a black peignoir and as she stands up, she casts it off to reveal a black and red lingerie set.

She smiles wickedly. “I can’t wait to get into bed with you either.”

You don’t move. You can only stare. Her scarlet lips match the exact shade of the lingerie. Without any sleeves, you see her muscular arms and you blush as you recall what those arms feel like wrapped around you. Her legs are on full display as well with a red stocking clipped to a garter. They reach up to your shoulders and you have spent many a time nestled in them with your head on her lap. You open your mouth to reply but find nothing coming out.

Alcina pouts and puts one hand behind her on the bed. “Come, pet,” she purrs, beckoning you with a red fingernail. “You’re not going to stand there all day, are you?”

You don’t say anything. You cross the space between you and your wife in three steps and launch yourself over into her waiting arms. The scent of her perfume is overwhelming and you breathe it in. You close your eyes and kiss her chin, her laugh lines and finally her lips. She laughs through the kiss and holds your head between her hands. “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t talk,” you rasp, your voice full of desire.

She smiles. “All right, draga mea. No talking then.” She kisses you deeply and you weave your hands through her locks.

She picks you up and carries you across the room, kissing all the while until you reach the wall. You lean your head on the wall behind you and wrap your legs around her waist. “I’ve needed this, my love,” you whisper against her lips.

Ding dong!

You hear the doorbell resound through the castle. You break the kiss and fix her with a quizzical expression. “Were you expecting anyone?” you ask.

She shakes her head quickly. “No. Could be a solicitor. Could be a vampire hunter coming to put a stake in all our hearts.” Her golden eyes are glazed over with desire. “Right now I couldn’t care less at the moment.” She nuzzles your neck and you sigh. She breaks away and looks at you, an unasked question in her eyes. She’s hungry. You nod your consent and she pulls away your nightgown to bear your neck and shoulders. She pulls you close and bites your neck and feeds on the blood pooling around your neck. You feel her neck working against your chest as she drinks. You take pleasure in every gasp and moan she makes. You feel pleasantly light-headed by the time she pulls away with a satisfied sigh.

Ding dong!

Alcina groans and bares her teeth in anger. “It’s getting too late for this!”

You caress her jaw. “Dear, maybe we should answer it. It could be an emergency.”

She shakes her head impatiently. “It’s probably some snot-nosed kid playing a prank.” She lifts your chin with a finger and gives you a seductive grin. “Don’t focus on it right now, pet. Right now is about you and me.”

“You’re probably right-” She stops the rest of your sentence with a rough kiss, opening your mouth with her tongue. Her hand travels up your leg and her hand making contact against your bare leg gives you a pleasant chill. Her hand rests on your thigh and she pushes you up against the wall again while using her nimble fingers to unhook your garter.

Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!

Alcina gives a frustrated growl. “Damn it to hell!”

“Darling,” you say gently petting her arm as a signal to set you down. “If it were kids, they’d be bored and have gone home by now. I’m going to check who it is.”

Your wife crosses her arms and gives an adorable pout. “Fine. Do what you want.”

You adjust your nightgown and wipe any leftover blood and lipstick off your neck. As you walk to the door, Alcina gently puts your dressing gown around your shoulders. You catch her hand and give it a kiss. “I’ll be with you shortly. I just need to get dressed.”

You smile at her. “Very well, darling.” As you turn to leave the door, Alcina catches your shoulder and whispers huskily, “And after we get back, we will most certainly get back the lost time that nuisance has stolen from us.”

You blush furiously and kiss her goodbye. As you walk down the stairs, you hear the doorbell ring again. Once, twice, three times. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming. I’m coming.” You grasp the brass handles and with a great effort manage to open the doors wide. You’re jealous of Alcina in moments like these. She could open the doors with such ease that you forget that each door weighed hundreds of pounds.

You are surprised to see Heisenberg holding something wrapped in cloth. You can’t help but smile when you see Heisenberg. Heisenberg and Alcina may be like oil and water, but the two of you liked each other almost instantly. He told you once that “anyone who could put up with that bitch for more than 20 seconds must be a good person. And you have to put up with her for life!”

Heisenberg returns your smile. “Hi, hon.”

“Hi Karl. How about you come in and warm up with a nice cup of tea?” You stand aside to allow him in. “Come on. It’s freezing out there.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, honey, but I really can’t stay long. Is your ball and chain around? This question concerns her too.”

“Heisenberg,” you hear your wife’s drawl. You both look to see her descending the stairs. There is no evidence of your amorous activities as she has on a fresh coat of lipstick, is fully dressed and her hair is pinned perfectly in place under her hat. “To what do I owe this rather unpleasant surprise?”

Heisenberg clenches his teeth. “Believe me, I wouldn’t come here unless it was an emergency.”

“Then what is it?” Alcina asks as she puts her left hand on your shoulder. You reach up to cover it with your own. “Out with it, and be on your way. Some of us would rather be in bed right now.”

Heisenberg notes your kiss-swollen lips and a hickey already starting to form on your neck. “Yes, I suppose some of us rather would.”

Alcina’s eyes flash and she grits her teeth. “Heisenberg, I swear-”

Heisenberg puts up a placating hand while he holds the bundle with his other. “Ok, ok. I’ll cut to the chase then. Sheesh, do you have any sense of humor?” He unwraps the bundle to reveal a mewling French bulldog. It can’t be more than a couple weeks old.

As you place your hand on your heart Heisenberg continues. “I found him outside of his house. Whole damned family was slaughtered. He needs a place to stay. I thought this might be the best place for him.”

You look at your wife with pleading eyes, but she gives a sharp, “No.”

“Darling-”

“No.” She glares at Heisenberg. “Why can’t you take him in? Maybe it would be an opportunity for you to learn some responsibility for once in your cursed existence.”

You see Heisenberg roll his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Yes, and I’d be responsible for him being torn apart by Lycans. I’m not taking him in. It’s not safe for him there.”

You take your wife’s hand in yours. “Darling, please reconsider. We can’t turn the poor thing away. Besides, our daughters would love having a d-”

She immediately puts a hand over your mouth. “Don’t say it,” she warns, looking furtively around the foyer.

“What?” you ask against her hand. “Dog?”

Almost immediately your daughters, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela materialize from their fly shrouds. They zero in on the dog and Cassandra takes him out of Heisenberg’s hands and the other two crowd around her and begin cooing to it, and letting it sniff and lick their fingers.

Alcina covers her face with her hands. “Now you’ve done it, love.”

The girls look up from their ministrations to the dog and as one rush over to your wife, carrying the dog over with them. They begin speaking up all at once. “Mother, please can we keep him?” “Mother, look how cute he is!” “Mother, Cassandra’s been hogging the dog all this time and it’s my turn to hold him!”

“Enough!” Alcina’s voice booms around the foyer. She puts two fingers in the space between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. She sighs aloud. “God, I need a smoke.” She turns to her daughters and with a long suffering sigh says, “Fine. We’ll keep the little mongrel.”

All three daughters erupt into cheers and you can’t help but smile indulgently at them. Daniela runs over and throws her arms around your neck in jubilation. “Maman, did you hear that? We get to have a dog finally!”

“Yes, dearest, I did hear that.” You drop a kiss on her head and she scampers over to take the dog which Cassandra begrudgingly hands to her.

Heisenberg grins and reaches in his pocket. “I have some food and a water bottle for him,” he says, handing you the aforementioned items. “The Duke should have some more, but that’s all I have right now.”

“Thank you Karl,” you say, reaching over to scratch the dog behind his ears. “We’ll take good care of it, won’t we girls?”

“Yes, Maman!” they all answer in unison.

“I’ll be off then!” Heisenberg turns to leave but not before shouting over his shoulder, “And I think he should fit in pretty nicely around here, especially since the Lady of the House is such a bi-”

In an instant, Alcina has him off the ground and has her claws extended only a few inches from his neck. “Heisenberg, did you want to finish that sentence?” she asks sweetly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Let him down, my love. It’s not worth getting so riled up this late at night”

“Fine,” she says and sets him down not too gently. He brushes himself off and glares at Alcina for the rough landing. She just flashes a smile and you notice that only her middle finger is extended in claw form. You look at your daughters, but they are too busy with the dog to notice the obscene hand gesture.

“All right, this time I’m really off.” he says, turning around and walking towards the castle gates.

“Girls, what do you say?” you prompt.

“Thank you, Uncle Karl!” they chorus. Bela snatches the dog and runs upstairs, vanishing in her bug shroud. The girls run after her, Daniela yelling down the hall, “No fair! I wasn’t finished with him yet!”

Alcina closes the doors and leans against them, sighing. “I just hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

You take her hand and kiss it. “Nothing we can do about it now, my love. Come on, let’s go to bed. It’s getting late.” The two of you hold hands and once you arrive at your shared bedroom, Alcina immediately locks the door, pulls you close and fixes you with a wolfish grin. “Now where were we, draga mea?”

“I thought you said you wanted to smoke first?” You laugh and wrap your arms around her neck.

“Ah, iubirea mea,” she say picking you up again and giving you a sloppy kiss. “Cigarettes always taste better after sex.”

You kiss her as you unbutton her dress and she puts her hand in the same spot on your thigh as before, this time successfully unhooking your garter. You bite her lip playfully and she gives a little growl of pleasure.

The moment is interrupted by a knock on the door and you hear Daniela’s voice, “Mother? Maman? The dog peed all over the carpet in Bela’s room!”

“Only because you led him there!” you hear Bela retort.

Alcina leans her forehead against yours and starts swearing in Romanian. You give her a kiss and pat her hand before you see to your daughters.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #re8 village #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader #bela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu

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sometimesbeforeitgetsbetter · 3 years

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Off the Record | Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Summary: High school in Beacon Hills, as told through the eyes of one inquisitive journalist who has a knack at getting on Stiles Stilinski's nerves.

Warnings: idk there's like a couple curse words lmao. also, spoilers? if you haven't finished teen wolf I guess??

Word count: 8,227

A/N: hi hi this is my first fic I'm posting on Tumblr (not to say that this is my first fic ever...anyway)! before you start, I just wanna say that there's a couple things that might be off from the show but please just ignore them. like I think it's bs Lydia brings Stiles back and not Scott in 6b so I righted that wrong. but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think of it! thanks for reading!!

All my life I’ve wondered why people didn’t question what happens in Beacon Hills.

It’s no secret that our town is unusual, but when odd things seemed to happen, people would just turn a blind eye and go about their business.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t let it go. I was inquisitive by nature, and my mom never knew how to answer my questions.

Why do we have so many animal attacks?

What happened to the people that disappeared in the Preserve?

Why did his eyes glow like that?

That last question almost caused my mom to get me a therapist – which probably would’ve helped me regardless – but she just continued to answer with her usual responses.

They just feel threatened by us, dear.

They’re in a better place now.

I’m sure it was nothing – you probably just saw some reflection in his eyes.

But no matter what she told me, I wasn’t satisfied. I knew there was something bigger going on, something my mom couldn’t explain, but I wasn’t sure what. As I got older, however, I realized that if I kept voicing my concerns, I’d be seen as the local crazy person – which, at the time, was the title reserved for my neighbor, Donna Romano, who always went to Town Hall meetings to complain about how some supernatural creatures were traumatizing her dogs every time she took them out at night to urinate.

Out of fear of sounding like Donna, I kept my suspicions to myself. I observed the strange actions of those around me and kept note of the bizarre events that happened in town. I found that it was something I was good at – observing. Always watching, but never voicing my opinions. Eventually, it got the best of me because I grew really quiet at school. But I didn’t mind. I liked being a wallflower.

One day in the fifth grade I saw my mom reading the Beacon Chronicle and I had an epiphany – journalists investigate weird, inexplicable events, so I should be a journalist. Reading the news became my favorite pastime, and by sixth grade I decided I would join the high school newspaper, The Daily Beacon, when I became a freshman. I figured maybe it would give me an outlet to investigate the odd occurrences in the town without looking like a lunatic.

But in sixth grade, I noticed that some of the odd things had stopped happening. There were less animal attacks and disappearances from the Preserve. Some people had even left town, including the last of the Hales, whose house had burned down that same year.

I didn’t give up hope though. I kept my head down and waited for things to get weird again. In the meantime, I wrote for enjoyment. In eighth grade I started shadowing a girl named Anna that was a part of the Daily Beacon, and I started writing articles – album reviews, movie reviews, school news.

Everything was going smoothly until my sophomore year of high school. Suddenly the weird things were happening, and I was sure that there was one person that was at the epicenter of it all – Scott McCall.

“...Angela, you’re covering the new faculty; Thomas, you’ve got the new Vegan Support Group club some juniors just created; and y/n, you’re covering lacrosse try-outs,” said Andrew, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Beacon.

I groaned slightly. “Andrew, couldn’t I write something a little bit more...my style? Like what about the one freshman class that boycotted their summer reading and is facing suspension?”

He gave me a slight look. “y/n, you know how important this lacrosse piece is. You know what that sport means to the school. You should be glad I’m giving you this opportunity,” he scolded. “Besides, Marlene is covering that class and is already interviewing their teacher.”

I nodded slowly and tried to refrain from rolling my eyes. I knew that Andrew meant well – he had been like an older brother to me ever since my freshman year – and he was right about the importance of lacrosse. I stayed quiet until he dismissed us, then mentally prepared myself to spend my afternoon watching some jocks exude machismo on a field.

When my last class was over, I walked over to the lacrosse field and found myself a spot on the top of the bleachers. It gave me an excellent vantage point – until a couple girls sat down right in front of me. The redhead I recognized to be Lydia Martin, the school’s resident popular girl. We’d been in class together all our lives, but I couldn’t remember a time she ever talked to me. I’m sure she didn’t even know I existed, just like the majority of the other people in our grade. The other girl, however, I didn’t recognize. I found out her name was Allison by overhearing their conversation. She was new and must have just moved to Beacon Hills.

The shrill sound of Coach’s whistle knocked me out of my thoughts. Tryouts started, and I watched as Scott McCall, a boy from my grade, was nearly knocked out by a lacrosse ball to the face. I winced but wrote down the event in the notebook I had out for documentation.

The next ball that went Scott’s way didn’t hit his face though. He managed to catch it in his goalie net. I couldn’t help but be a bit surprised – like Lydia, I’d known of Scott my whole life though he probably didn’t know me at all. But that meant I knew he was an asthmatic that wasn’t particularly skilled at sports.

“He’s actually pretty good,” I mumbled to myself as Scott continued to catch every ball that came his way.

I didn’t realize how loud I must’ve said it though because at my remark Allison turned around. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, obviously surprised. “Do you know him?”

I shook my head and quickly turned my attention to my notebook to write down the surprising turn of events. “Are you writing about this for the school newspaper?” I looked back up at Allison’s question. She was paying attention to me?

“Um, yeah, I am. I’d rather not write about sports, but here I am,” I joked lightly.

She let out a beautiful laugh at my statement. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m Allison, and you are…?”

“y/n,” I answered. “Nice to meet you, Allison.” Suddenly the crowd roared, and I remembered why I was there. Allison, too, smiled and turned her attention back to the game. Lydia hadn’t said a word, but she was focused on watching Scott absolutely demolish Jackson Highmore, who, in my opinion, needed to be knocked down a few pegs anyway.

The more I watched Scott though, I got this weird feeling. He was good – too good. I tried to ignore my feelings and just focus on writing notes for the ridiculous lacrosse piece, which would include the headline: “Sophomore Scott McCall shines at lacrosse tryouts and becomes team co-captain.” But deep down I knew there was something up with him.

A few days later, I was sitting behind Stiles Stilinski, Scott’s best friend, in English class. Even though I’d had nearly all of my classes with him, we never talked. It originally was because I had a minor crush on him and was afraid I’d pass out if I spoke to him, but eventually it just morphed into me not speaking to many people and being convinced he didn’t know of my existence anyway.

But this one day, I was committed to speaking with him. I had to know what was going on, and if there was one person that knew anything about Scott’s new-found lacrosse talent, it was Stiles.

“Hey, Stiles,” I spoke up from behind him.

The brunette turned around, slightly confused but with that soft smile on his face. “Oh, hey, y/n. What’s up?”

I swear my heart stopped beating for a second. He knew my name? He knew who I was? I shook myself out of my thoughts before I went down the rabbit hole of the implications of him knowing me.

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just writing a piece about lacrosse tryouts for the school newspaper and I was just wondering if you had anything to say about it,” I explained.

He tilted his head slightly and shifted in his seat to more fully face me. “Um, yeah sure. I think it’s going to be a great season, especially since we’ve gotten some new leadership. My boy Scott’s co-captain now, so those Devenford Prep guys won’t know what hit them!”

“Speaking of Scott, when did he get so good at lacrosse? Would you say it’s natural talent?” I pressed a bit, hoping he’d say something that would give me a hint as to what was going on.

Stiles’ eyes squinted a little, and his head tilted slightly again. He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was unusual for the fast-talking, sarcastic boy, but he quickly recovered. “It’s definitely...natural...talent. He’s been working extra hard recently to hone his talent and skills so he could bring his A-game to this year’s tryouts.” When he finished speaking, he looked pleased with himself, and I could tell he had let out a small sigh of relief.

What are you hiding?

Though I didn’t know it yet, at that moment my rivalry with Stiles Stilinski began. He and Scott were hiding something, and I was going to find out what it was.

“You’re telling me that a girl is in a coma after the school winter formal and you don’t want me to write a story about it?”

Andrew leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “It’s not that I don’t want you to write it. I just think it’s a tense time right now. The administration is receiving a lot of flack right now because of the winter formal fiasco, and Ms. Blanchard told me that we may want to avoid stirring the pot right now,” he explained. “That is not to say that we abandon our journalistic integrity and commitment to informing the student body, but we just may want to be sensitive to our environment right now.”

I trusted Ms. Blanchard, the faculty sponsor of the Daily Beacon, but not reporting on Lydia’s comatose state felt wrong. She was well-known at school, and students deserved to know the facts of her situation and how it had happened.Well, maybe I was lying to myself by saying that the real reason I wanted to pursue the story wasn’t the fact that something inexplicable had happened at the dance and I had to figure out what it was.

Andrew could sense my disappointment. “Look, maybe for now you can start collecting information and sources, and I’ll talk to Ms. Blanchard. Maybe she can advise us on how best to proceed.”

I threw my arms around Andrew in a quick hug. “Yes, thank you! I promise I’ll be sensitive when asking sources. I know how difficult this must be for the people close to her.”

“I know you will,” he said, chuckling lightly.

With a smile plastered on my face – perhaps a little inappropriately considering the topic I was excited to cover – I left the small newspaper office in search of my first source: Stiles Stilinski. He had been Lydia’s date to the dance, so surely he must know what happened to her, right? “No, I don’t know what happened,” Stiles angrily responded when I cornered him at his locker. “We were separated for a bit because she went looking for someone. When I went looking for her I–” he stopped suddenly, as if choosing his words carefully. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he spoke.

“The next thing I know, she was at the hospital in a coma. They told me Jackson had found her out on the field when I went to check on her at the hospital,” he explained.

Something wasn’t adding up. “Ok, but where were you the rest of that time? You didn’t go looking for her when you didn’t see her for a while? What about when she had already been checked into the hospital?”

“What is this – an investigation?” Stiles shouted as he slammed his locker shut. I took a step back, eyes wide at the sudden display of aggression. Maybe I pushed too hard, I thought. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I….I didn’t mean it like that. There’s just a lot going on, and my dad has been up my ass about those details too. To be honest, I can’t tell you where I was. The time just flew by and all of a sudden I’d realized I hadn’t seen Lydia for a couple hours. I wish I had been there for her, but there’s nothing I can do for her now other than check up on her.”

Running a hand over his buzzed head, he shot me a forced smile and said “good luck with your article” before walking away.

I was at a loss for words, trying to put the pieces together in my head. Surely he couldn’t have had a part in Lydia’s injury? There’s no way. But his defensiveness was off-putting–

“Hey, y/n!” I was snapped out of my thoughts by Allison approaching me from behind. “What were you talking to Stiles about?”

“Huh? Oh, um, I was just asking him about…” I remembered that the funeral for Allison’s aunt was happening and didn’t want to mention the additional stress of her best friend being comatose, so I opted for a white lie. “Biology homework. I wasn’t really paying attention in class today.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two were friends,” she said as she leant against the lockers.

I shook my head violently. “We’re not.” I’d grown too close to Allison for her to not pick up on my feelings though.

“You say that now, but–”

“I have to get to class. See you at lunch, Ally!”

Other things that year were weird, but none warranted any further investigation via newspaper article. Sure, I was wondering about Erica Reyes’ sudden transformation into the ultimate baddie, the mysterious deaths of a mechanic and Isaac Lahey’s dad, numerous paralyzations at the Jungle, and a death of someone at a secret rave, but Andrew thought it would be best for the Chronicle and Ledger to cover those bigger events. In fact, the only other unnatural event that happened that I had to cover for the newspaper was Stiles’ unbelievable winning streak at the lacrosse championship. I would have quoted him after the game, but I really didn’t want to speak to him and anyway, he had disappeared for a bit right after the team won.

I could tell that things were happening, but it was all hidden from public view. I even noticed Allison’s behavior fluctuating. The arrival of her grandfather shook things up, and while he gave me a bad feeling, I couldn’t exactly figure out why. Lydia was more troubled than usual after coming back from the hospital even though she tried to act normally. Jackson was going through something and was more angry and aggressive than usual, but I wasn’t close enough to him to ask him if he was okay.

Over the summer, I spent a surprising amount of time with Lydia. Allison spent her summer in France, but she asked me to keep an eye on Lydia to make sure she was okay, especially since Jackson had moved to London during the summer break. I was surprised how much I enjoyed spending time with the redhead, and we hung out when I wasn’t working at my internship at The Beacon Chronicle, which my mom had convinced me to apply for after she noticed how irritated I was that I couldn’t pursue some of the stories I wanted.

By the time Allison came back before the start of school, it felt like Lydia and I had been best friends for the longest time.

“So, Allison, have you talked to Scott at all this summer?” I asked when I was sitting in the backseat of Lydia’s car, Allison in the passenger seat.

She shook her head. “No, I think I still need some time. He...hides things from me and I don’t know if I can trust him.”

I nodded my head, understanding the feeling. I still couldn’t place my finger on what had happened between them or what Scott was involved in. Though I comforted her when I found out they broke up, I didn’t really know why they’d done it.

“What about you, y/n? Have you talked to Stiles at all?” Allison asked, looking back at me in the backseat.

“Why the hell would I talk to Stiles?” I questioned, confused.

She and Lydia shared a small look that I couldn’t decipher before she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but you guys are more similar than you may think. I don’t know why you guys act like you don’t like each other though.”

The car rolled to a stop at the stop light, and all of a sudden I noticed a familiar baby blue jeep approach next to us. “Speak of the devil,” I mumbled. Lydia and Allison didn’t notice Stiles staring and waving at first, but when they did the car was filled with awkward tension.

The next events were a blur: Lydia running the red light, both cars stopping in the middle of the road, and a deer running straight towards us, nearing killing me in the gap between the front seats. We were shaken, and the boys ran towards us when they saw what happened.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked Lydia, but he kept looking at me. I nodded slightly and he turned his full attention back to Lydia.

“What was wrong with it?” Allison asked as Scott got closer to the deer.

“It was scared,” he explained. “No, terrified.”

Things got progressively weirder after that. On the first day of school, I interviewed our new English teacher, Ms. Blake. She was nice enough, but it was unfortunate that her class was the one that a whole flock of birds decided to burst through the classroom windows. By the time the police arrived, I was already drafting up a story in my brain: Why are the animals acting weird in Beacon Hills?

I had overheard Stiles talking to Scott about the deer’s weird behavior and the number of deer-related incidents in California, so I swallowed my pride so that I could talk to him and maybe get some stats and information on the whole situation.

I walked up to him when he was sitting alone, texting on his phone. “Hey, Stiles.” “y/n? What’s wrong?” He had genuine concern written on his face.

“I overheard you and Scott talking about deer-related incidents earlier,” I noticed how he tensed up at my statement, “and I was wondering if you could help me with a piece I’m writing? It seems like you know all the stats, so maybe...you could write it with me?” It pained me to finish that sentence, but I figured it might be easier to figure out what was going on if he was helping – especially if he already had inside information.

I think for the first time in his life, the talkative boy was speechless. “I understand if you don’t want to or you’re busy–” I said quickly, trying to give him a way out.

“Yeah, sure.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t caught off guard by his response. “W-what?”

He smirked slightly. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help you out with your article, y/n. Collaborate with you, if you will. We can work on it at my house tomorrow afternoon if you want.”

Nodding and agreeing with the plan, I left the chaotic English classroom.

The next afternoon, I felt like I was walking into the lion’s den. Going to Stiles’ house felt foreign, but what was even stranger was seeing him in casual clothes in a comfortable environment.

He answered the door wearing some sweats and a t-shirt, looking more comfortable and confident than I’d ever seen him. “Hey, y/n. Come on in,” he greeted.

I thanked him awkwardly, and we walked to his dining room table to get set up. “Sorry, I need to go grab my notes from my room. Be back in a sec,” Stiles said before leaving me alone in his dining room.

After a moment of silence, Sheriff Stilinski walked in wearing his uniform. “Oh, y/n! What are you doing here?” He had seen me a couple weeks ago in the police station when I was requesting documents for a story for the Chronicle. Though journalists and cops don’t often have a jovial relationship, he said that he liked me because of my commitment to the truth and respectful nature.

“Hey, Sheriff. I’m writing a piece about the animals acting weird, you know, with the deer accident and bird incident, and Stiles said he’d help me since he has a bunch of statistics on deer related car accidents.”

“Stiles is helping you? Well, I’ll be damned.” When he saw the confusion on my face, he rushed to explain himself. “No, not like that. It’s just, you’re all organized and focused, and Stiles is….Stiles.”

I was laughing heartily when the boy himself walked back into the room. “What’s going on, Daddy-o?”

“Nothing, son. Just catching up with y/n here. I’ve got to get to work, but you’re welcome anytime, y/n.” He said before patting Stiles on the shoulder and heading off to work.

Stiles looked over at me oddly when he placed his notes on the table and sat next to me. “Since when are you all buddy-buddy with my dad?”

Shrugging, I said, “Ever since we started grabbing beer every Thursday night while you’re at lacrosse practice.” His jaw dropped slightly, and I laughed again. “No, idiot. We’ve just interacted a lot because of my internship. Now, can we get started on the article?”

After the article was published, my next assignment was writing about the track meet a couple weeks later. I found out Allison and Lydia were riding together to the meet, so I tagged along.

Both girls were extremely tense the whole ride, seemingly concerned about something going on in the bus. We were only a few cars behind the bus full of track runners (and lacrosse players who were forced to attend the meet), but the stand-still traffic was a force to be reckoned with.

“Do you think we’re too close?” Allison asked.

“Honey, if you were any closer I think you’d mount the bus,” Lydia said sarcastically. She got a call from Stiles and looked over at Allison. “Hey, Stiles,” she dragged out the ‘hey,’ tension obvious in her voice.

She listened to what he was saying, something clearly wrong. “What do you mean he’s not–” she stopped when she remembered I was in the car, “healing?” She finished the question quietly, probably hoping I wouldn’t hear.

Healing? Is he injured?

“Yeah, ok, just find a way to get Coach to stop. We’ll meet you there.” She hung up and told Allison to pull off at the next stop.

When we got to the rest stop, I could see everyone hurrying to get off the bus. Allison parked the car, and we quickly went to the bathroom where I saw Scott nearly passed out on the floor. “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Yeah, y/n. He’s fine. At least, he will be,” Stiles responded. He positioned his body in front of me a little bit as if he was trying to block my view of Scott.

I gently pushed him aside so I could see and was shocked to see black blood coming from the injured boy. “What the hell is going on? Why is his blood black?” I ran forward to get closer, kneeling next to Allison.

“It’s nothing. We just need to stitch him up and he’ll be fine.”

“Stiles, don’t fucking lie to me. I can see that he’s obviously not fine.”

“He’s right,” Allison said quietly. “We need to stitch him up. I need something to stitch him together with.” She looked around before remembering something in her bag.

I shook my head. “We need to tell Coach. Take him to a hospital or something.”

“No!” All three of them yelled at me.

It was quiet for a moment, all of us deciding where to go from here. “Just…” Stiles started, “please go and make sure the bus doesn’t leave without us. We’ll handle this.” I got up and slowly made my way to the door.

As I reached for the door, a hand grabbed my wrist. “y/n,” Stiles said, “it’ll make sense someday. Just trust us for now. Trust me,” he pleaded quietly out of earshot of the girls and Scott.

“I do,” I replied quietly, not meeting his eyes, before pulling my hand from his grasp and leaving the bathroom.

That night, we all had to stay at the Motel Glen Capri because of the postponed meet. I didn’t like its energy, and neither did Lydia. “A lot can happen in one night,” she said.

Though it was supposed to be two to a room, I convinced Coach to let me room with Allison and Lydia. Admittedly, Coach didn’t need much convincing because I was saving the school money by doing so. Once we got our room key, we went up to our room on the second floor.

“I’m going to go get a snack from the machine,” I told Lydia once Allison was in the shower.

She nodded. “Sounds good. I’m going to the lobby. There must be something we can do about these towels that reek of nicotine.”

Grabbing a couple one’s from my wallet, I made my way down the hall to the vending machine where I ran into Boyd and Stiles. As I approached, I could hear Stiles trying to talk to an unresponsive Boyd, who subsequently punched a hole through the glass of the machine, grab his snack that the machine refused to give him, and walk away.

“What the hell was that?” I asked Stiles as I walked up next to him.

He shrugged. “I don’t really know, to be honest.” He reached into the machine to grab his snack and tossed one to me as well.

When I got back to my room, a shaken Allison and Lydia were hurriedly talking about something. “Oh, y/n! You’re back. You won’t believe what just happened…” Allison started

She recounted the story of Scott’s bizarre behavior in the bathroom, and Lydia filled me in on the counter that they have at the front desk. “Can you imagine having a counter for the number of suicides that take place in your hotel? Crazy,” Lydia said. Taking her phone out, she sent a quick text to Stiles telling him that we all needed to talk.

We met him in the hallway a couple minutes later. “What was the text for?” Stiles asked when he saw our little gathering.

“There’s something going on with all the…” she looked over at me before continuing, “guys. You know, Scott, Boyd, Isaac, probably Ethan too.” I tried to connect the dots between all of them, but I didn’t really know what they all had in common. Scott and Isaac were both on the lacrosse team, but from what I could tell they didn’t have a particular fondness for each other or Ethan.

“I think someone’s going to die tonight,” Lydia said decisively.

“Why do you think that?” I asked, but it seemed like I was the only one questioning her line of reason.

She shook her head slowly. “I just...have a feeling.” After a moment of silence, she told us about hearing something from the room next to ours through the vent, so we decided to investigate it. Room 217 seemed empty and locked, but all of a sudden we heard the sound of a saw from behind the door.

Stiles busted the door open, and we opened it to find Ethan turning the saw on himself. “Ethan, stop!” I yelled as we ran into the room. Stiles started wrestling him for the saw, but luckily Lydia saw where it was plugged into the wall and unplugged it.

The next thing that happened was completely unexpected to me. Ethan grew fangs and claws, his eyes blazing red. What the fu–

Allison and Lydia rushed forward, wrestling his claws away from his torso where he had been planning on slashing himself. In the struggle he fell on the space heater, which apparently brought him out of whatever state he was in. He ran out of the room soon after. When we tried to question him about what he was doing, he couldn’t answer us. He had been out of control, and it made Allison realize we were forgetting someone.

“Where’s Scott?” She asked suddenly. When no one could answer, we all decided to split up – I’d go with Allison to look for Scott while Stiles and Lydia went to find Boyd and Isaac.

Scott wasn’t in his room. Allison and I ran all over the motel, looking in every crevice. At last, we decided to check the school bus, and that’s where we saw him. Standing drenched in gasoline, a flare lit up in his hand.

“Scott…” I approached quietly, careful to not make any sudden movements.

It was then that Stiles and Lydia joined us. I watched as Stiles walked into the gasoline, my breath catching in my throat as he nearly sacrificed himself. Scott was talking, but I didn’t really understand what it meant. He said that his life was better before the bite.

Stiles eventually talked Scott down, but the flare rolled into the gasoline. Luckily, Lydia was able to make sure we had all gotten out of the way. I’d ended up next to Stiles on the ground, and though we made eye contact, no words were spoken.

We spent the night in the bus because none of us could bear the thought of spending another second in that cursed place. Coach woke us up in the morning, definitely thinking the worst about what we may have gotten ourselves into, but whatever he was thinking wouldn’t possibly compare to reality. What was reality? I couldn’t have really told you at that point. I didn’t understand what we’d just lived through.

Before the other students started loading onto the bus, Stiles slid into the empty space next to me. “y/n, you know that all of this,” he made a grand gesture to Scott and the others as well as the motel, “is off the record. You can’t tell anyone about this. About what happened.” I held eye contact with him for a moment before nodding. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. To be honest, I don’t even really know what I would tell people, but I wouldn’t.” He nodded, a sad smile on his face as he looked down and fidgeted with his hands. “But Stiles,” I said as he looked back up at me. “Please help me understand it all. You can trust me, I promise, I just want to understand. I want to help.”

With a deep sigh, Stiles nodded once more. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”

When Stiles said he’d fill me in on everything, I didn’t realize he meant everything. I couldn’t believe how oblivious I had been to everything that had happened in the past year. Sure, I knew something weird was going on, but how was I supposed to know it was supernatural?

Finding out that my little corner of the world, little old Beacon Hills, California, had werewolves (and a kanima, pack of alphas, and whatever the hell a Darach was) was a lot to process. It was unbelievable, but Stiles helped me believe it.

I could tell that he didn’t fully trust me though. There was something in the way he looked at me that told me he was wondering when I would be done with my source acquisition and I’d write the next big exposé: Supernatural Beacon Hills: How Werewolves Have Been Hiding In Plain Sight. I didn’t know how to assure him that I was on their side and wouldn’t expose their secrets.

As the year progressed, things simultaneously made more sense and less sense. To defeat the Darach, we had to perform a sacrifice for the parents that had abducted, and Deaton – the veterinarian that had taken care of every family pet we’d ever had – told me I had to hold Stiles down during it. He said we had some sort of connection, but I guess that’s what mutual loathing does to people.

In the end, we won. We beat the Darach, the alpha of the alphas Deucalion left, and Scott became an alpha himself. But it was still just the beginning.

The sacrifice did something to Scott, Stiles, and Allison that we didn’t fully understand. Deaton said they left a door open, which only made it harder for Stiles to trust me because he could barely trust himself.

Knowing about the supernatural didn’t preclude my other responsibilities though. I still wrote for the Daily Beacon, much to Stiles’ displeasure, but I enjoyed it. So, on the first day of school I interviewed our newest faculty member – Mr. Yukimura. He and his family had just moved from New York, and his daughter Kira was in our grade. She was nice, but shy, so I invited her to have lunch with us.

Surprisingly, Kira jumped right into the conversation at lunch by mentioning bardo, the Buddhist concept of being in an in-between state.

After lunch, I caught up with Allison to walk to our next class. “Hey, Allison, could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t really know how to ask this but...I need help learning to defend myself, I guess? It’s just that I’m going to be helping you guys now, and I actually want to be helpful, so I want to protect myself so you guys don’t have to worry about me,” I admitted.

Allison smiled softly. “I’d love to help.” I returned her smile, suddenly giddy, yet nervous. “But, I think you should know that my...aim...has been off since the sacrifice.”

I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Nonsense, I’m sure that you’re still the best shot in this school.” She shook her head. “It’s never been this bad.”

Touching her arm lightly, I gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

A few days later, I was surprised when I was paid a visit by both Scott and Stiles while I was sitting in the library. “To what do I owe this pleasure, boys?”

“We need your help.” I perked up at Scott’s statement. “We’re trying to solve the Tate case, you know, the one where Malia Tate disappeared all those years ago after that car accident, and we could use your help tracking her down.” He looked over at Stiles and nudged him with his elbow.

“And, you can write a piece about it. Not including all the details, if what we think happened is true, but you can still write something factual,” Stiles said, still displeased that I was writing for the newspaper.

To annoy Stiles, I acted like I was really thinking about it for a minute, but then laughed lightly. “Yeah, I’ll help you guys. Where do we start?”

Pull yourself together, y/n. You’re a journalist. You’re supposed to report on tragedy all the time. Be objective.

I took a deep breath and wrote the first line for what would be the cover story of the next Daily Beacon issue.

Junior Allison Argent, 17, died in an unfortunate carjacking incident last fall.

Before I could write any more, I got a phone call from Stiles.

Oh, thank god. “Stiles?”

“Do you want to come with us to Mexico?” He blurted out.

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from my chest. “What? Mexico? Why? When–”

“Tomorrow.”

“Stiles, are you insane? Even if I wanted to, there’s no way my parents would ever let me go.”

“We’re all telling our parents we’re going camping, if that helps at all,” he said with what seemed like a hint of disappointment in his voice.

I was quiet for a minute, but my mind was already made up. “Why? And who exactly is going?”

“Scott, Lydia, Kira, Malia, and I have to visit some hunters and see what they know about Derek being missing.”

As soon as he mentioned Malia, my mouth started curling into a frown. It’s not that I disliked the werecoyote, it’s just that she and Stiles had been pretty full on since they hooked up at Eichen and started dating. I wasn’t jealous – though I’m sure Lydia would argue otherwise since she’s convinced I like him or something – just...weirded out by their relationship.

I sighed. “I want to help, but I really can’t tomorrow. School starts back up in a couple days, and I need to finish this elegy for Allison and come up with a bunch of assignments for the staff writers…” I trailed off, thinking about all that I had to do before the coming week.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Ms. Editor-in-chief over here has a life outside of us,” Stiles joked.

Andrew graduated at the end of last year and left his glittering empire to me, though suddenly I felt overwhelmed at the prospect of running a newspaper while being way too involved in the town’s supernatural endeavors. It didn’t bother me last semester, but after Allison…

“I’ll just see you guys when you get back, okay?” I told Stiles. He made an unintelligible noise of agreement. “And try not to let anyone get killed.” “Yes, mom,” Stiles said sarcastically. I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

When the pack got back, I was surprised by the events that had taken place. “What do you mean it’s a young version of Derek?”

A few days later, I had to cover the spring lacrosse tryouts. Though I wanted to assign it to someone else, I had to do it myself because everyone was busy with the assignments I had given them.

To my surprise, a new freshman, Liam Dunbar, showed everyone up at tryouts – even Scott. I took note of how he seemed almost athletically superior to everyone, and I wondered if he was supernatural.

“He’s human, I’m sure of it,” Scott said as he came up next to where I was sitting on the bleachers, scaring me out of my mind in the process.

“Jeez, Scott. A little warning next time would be nice. But how do you know?”

He shrugged. “I can just tell. He’s just a really great athlete.”

“He’s going to be a great pain in my ass, I can tell,” Stiles said, sidling up next to Scott.

I took note of their reactions, writing down Scott’s comment – about being a great athlete, not human – to consider while writing my piece.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re writing a story about him,” Stiles groaned.

“You know I have to write one about the tryouts, and he just happens to be the star player of today,” I told him. “Sorry, Scott.”

Scott waved me off, but Stiles was still upset about the situation. “No, don’t give him the ego boost! He’s already a little shit, and an article about him would make it worse.”

Taking a break from my note-taking, I looked over at the brown-haired boy. “Stiles, have you even talked to him?”

He looked at a loss for words. “N-not really...but I can see his arrogance from a mile away!”

I rolled my eyes. “Well then, if you’d excuse me, I’m going to write up a fantastic story about a talented up-and-coming lacrosse player.”

The article became the next issue’s front page, but I almost wished I hadn’t given him as much attention when Scott turned him into his beta.

The rest of the year didn’t go as planned either, but isn’t junior year supposed to be everyone’s worst year?

As much as I liked helping out with the supernatural problems Scott and the rest of the pack were having, it was hard knowing about what was going on and not being able to write about it, especially when all of the mysterious killings started up. We eventually found out about the deadpool, but I could write about a kill list of Beacon Hills’ resident supernaturals, could I?

At the end of the year, I finally had to make the trip to Mexico with the rest of the pack. “Stiles, I’m going. You can’t stop me!” I attempted to open the passenger door of the jeep when he reached out and shut it from behind me.

“No, it’s going to be dangerous. We don’t even really know what we’re facing,” he tried reasoning with me. “I can protect myself,” I said, thinking of the training that Allison had given me. “Besides, I can’t just sit by and wait for you guys to come back. I need to try helping Scott.”

Realizing that I wasn’t going to back down, Stiles removed his hand from the side of the door and opened it for me. I nodded a quick thanks as I hopped into the vehicle.

I wasn’t expecting to fight Scott that day, but we all did in order to return him from his Berserker form. At the end of the fight, I had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing I couldn’t deal with.

As Derek drove away with Braedan, I could feel that things were changing. “I can’t write about any of this, can I?” I asked somewhat jokingly.

“Off the record,” Stiles replied from where he stood next to me.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?”

“Oh thank god, you remember me!” He said as he grabbed my hands. He’d been running down the hall frantically when I saw him.

I looked at him with concern on my face. “Yeah, of course I remember you? Why wouldn’t I–”

“y/n, it’s the Hunt. The Ghost Riders. I saw them, and now they’re coming for me.” He was breathing heavily, eyes sweeping the surroundings for signs of the Ghost Riders. His eyes locked on something to his left, but when I looked, I couldn’t see anything. “They’re here. We have to go,” he said, pulling me towards the parking lot. We got into his jeep, but he didn’t start the car. “Stiles, what are you doing?”

“It’s too late.” I could see the look of grief on his face. “No, don’t say that. It’s not–”

“It’s the truth,” he cut me off, turning to look at me. “Promise me you won’t forget.”

I shook my head. “I won’t. But Stiles, I can’t do this without you,” I could feel a tear escaping my eye and slipping down my cheek, my emotions getting the better of me.

Stiles reached forward and wiped the tear away before placing his hand on my cheek. “What do you mean? You’re one of the smartest, most inquisitive people I know. If I had to trust anyone to find a way to stop the Ghost Riders, it would be you.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. “Yeah right. Lydia will probably figure it out before me.”

He shook his head. “You can do it. I trust you.” I could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he turned to look at something through the window over his shoulder. “Can I tell you something? Off the record.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t hate you. I know it may seem like I’ve never trusted you or that I don’t care about you, but it’s actually the opposite. I...really really like you,” he admitted.

I was stunned. Stiles likes me? He was searching my face for any indication of feelings as I sat there silently.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles mumbled. “Ok, forget I said that. Well, you won’t need to forget when you forget me in a minute–”

I cut off his rambling by placing my lips on his. They were warm and familiar, as if they were made for mine. “I like you too,” I mumbled when I disconnected, my eyes still closed from the interaction.

But when I opened them, I was alone in the baby blue jeep.

All semester, I’d felt that something was missing, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Or who it was.

But after months of searching for it, we finally figured it out. Lydia had gone into a banshee trance to discover the word “Stiles,” and it brought back vague memories for me when I heard it. The feeling of soft flannel. A sarcastic laugh. Red string around my finger. A hefty wooden baseball bat.

The collection of memories made sense when we all finally got our memories back and remembered the person we were missing from our lives.

We traced the trail of clues to the sewers, where Scott tried to bring back Stiles because of their brotherly love for one another. I thought it would work, but the portal closed and Stiles hadn’t appeared. Come on, Stiles. Where are you?

We had to fight the Ghost Riders off, making sure they didn’t turn our beloved Beacon Hills into another ghost town. I’d run into the high school, looking for something to use as a weapon when I ran into someone in the hall. A tall, brown-haired figure wearing a flannel shirt. “Stiles?”

He turned, and smiles emerged on both of our faces. I broke into a run again, right into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re really here.” I mumbled, the sound muffled against his shirt.

“I knew you could do it,” he said.

I pulled back slightly and looked up at his face, suddenly nervous. “That night in the jeep...did you hear what I told you before you disappeared?”

A soft smile rested on his face. “Of course I did. It was the one thing that kept me going, especially when I was stuck with Peter.”

“Peter Hale? Why the hell were you with Peter Hale?”

Stiles shook his head. “We can go over that later. For now, there’s one thing I’ve been wanting to do.” I was a little confused, but I understood once he leaned in and connected our lips.

This is what I’d been missing, and I was never going to let it go again.

I watched from afar as Stiles gave his trusty baseball bat to Mason, who didn’t seem to appreciate the hunk of wood.

“Have you told him yet?” Lydia asked as she appeared next to me.

I shook my head. “We haven’t really had time to talk about that stuff. I think he doesn’t really want to think about it just yet and what that might mean for us.”

She nudged me with her elbow, silently telling me to go over there and talk to him. Rolling my eyes, I walked towards the familiar blue jeep and familiar mess of brown hair.

Liam and Mason had already walked away, and Scott and Stiles were standing and talking at the jeep’s trunk. “Hey, y/n. I’m just heading out, but I’ll see you guys later,” Scott said as I came up and Stiles threw his arm around me.

We waved as Scott left, and Stiles pulled me closer. “Hey,” he said, looking down at me with an affectionate expression.

I pulled him over so we could sit in the open trunk. “We need to talk.” I could see the panic flare up in his eyes.

“Oh, um, okay? Is everything okay?”

Chuckling lightly, I nodded. “Yeah, we just haven’t talked about college at all,” I explained.

His head dropped. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want it to ruin what we have here, and I don’t even know what life will be like outside of Beacon Hills, and I feel like we just got together and now–”

“Stiles,” I cut him off. “I’m going to GW too.”

His eyes widened at my confession. “You...you’re going to GW?”

I nodded, a small smile on my lips. “I committed a while ago. I’m going to study journalism there.”

I watched as a smile spread across his face. Then, it was replaced by a quick smirk. “Oh great, you’re following me there, huh? I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m going to need someone to give me the inside scoop on the FBI’s antics.”

He looked pensive for a moment. “I think what you’re describing is illegal.”

“Not if it’s in the public’s interest. But maybe it just needs to be off the record,” I admitted. Stiles laughed. “Oh, it’s definitely going to be off the record.”

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x reader #scott mccall #lydia martin #allison argent #hot take: scott should have brought back stiles in 6b not lydia #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski one shot #dylan obrien #isaac lahey #dylan o'brien

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keijislove · 3 years

Text

Happiness: Harry Potter X Muggle!Reader

Ding dong

The bell at Number Four, Privet Drive rang.

‘Boy, scurry off!’ Petunia growled at Harry; afraid he would do something to the person who was at the door.

Harry hid inside his old broom cupboard.

Even after spending two whole years at Hogwarts, and about to start his third, the Dursleys never let him come and see whoever was at their door.

It’s not like I’d stun them, Harry gloomily thought. I’ve got better things to do.

In truth, he really hadn’t.

Which is why he peeked through the small crack in the door to see who was there.

Petunia opened the door.

‘Er, yes?’ Harry heard her say.

‘Mrs. Dursley, good afternoon!’ a voice spoke.

The voice was gentle and sweet, a great variation from the Dursleys’ harsh, barking tones towards Harry.

It was the voice of a girl; one he did not know.

‘How may I help you dear?’ Petunia smiled.

‘Er, well, Dudley took my maths book yesterday, and I-I have a test coming up day after, so could you please ask him to lend it back?’ the voice asked.

‘Of course.’ Petunia smiled. ‘Come in, dear.’

That was when Harry finally saw the owner of the calming voice.

It was you.

Looking ever so beautiful and elegant with a halo of politeness surrounding you.

Petunia went upstairs to retrieve your book.

He did not know why exactly, but Harry felt like he had to talk to you.

He had to.

And if he didn’t, then the chance would be lost forever.

He walked out of the cupboard.

‘Oh!’ you exclaimed in surprise.

‘Er, sorry.’ He muttered, feeling foolish.

‘No, no... quite alright... I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N. you are?’ you asked, holding out your hand.

‘Harry. Harry Potter.’ He said, shaking your hand.

You frowned slightly. ‘Potter... I’ve heard that before... you’re Dudley’s cousin, aren’t you?’ you asked.

‘Er, yeah.’ Harry awkwardly said.

For a moment, a small flash of fear took over your face, but you tried your best to hide it.

Harry noticed it anyway.

He felt anger bubbling up inside him.

‘I don’t go to St. Brutus’ if that’s what’s scaring you.’ He said with more venom than intended.

You looked positively nonplussed. ‘Oh? Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry. It’s just that... Dudley says such awful things about you... I’d started thinking you were a mad hooligan!’

‘Dudley says a lot of things that aren’t true. For instance, he beat up a toddler and told me he’d won a boxing match.’ Harry shook his head.

You giggled slightly.

‘So... you’re his friend, then?’ Harry asked.

You looked down. ‘Uhm... well, no. I’m afraid he’s not very nice to me. I don’t think he likes me much.’

Harry felt yet another wish to strangle his cousin.

‘Why’d you lend him your book, then?’ he asked in confusion.

You sighed. ‘I didn’t. He took it from me when we were out during recess.’

‘Prat.’ Harry muttered.

When they heard Petunia’s footsteps, Harry jumped back inside the broom cupboard.

She was wiping fake tears, mumbling.

‘Diddykins, always such a gentleman. Asking for a girl’s book so politely.’ She mumbled.

You had to look away in order to roll your eyes.

-------------

Needless to say, you and Harry became friends since that day.

The Dursleys would always kick him out, and this used to annoy him, but now he had somewhere to go, so he used to leave without a word.

You two would meet up in the nearby playground and do one of the things Harry considered a big privilege.

You’d talk.

Nothing in particular, you’d sit on the swings and just talk.

Harry deeply wished he could tell you about Hogwarts, how Voldemort was a huge threat to his existence, but what would you think?

You’d call him mad.

You still followed the same routine.

You’d talk, everyday you’d talk and talk and one day he would leave, leave you behind, lonely.

Things however, changed quick after that.

He had just gotten home from third year, and was spending the summer there.

You had met up as usual, and he’d excitedly told you how his best friend, Ron Weasley, had invited him to stay over that Sunday for the rest of the vacation.

‘Oh... you’re leaving so soon?’ you had asked, and Harry thought he had heard the slightest bit of sadness in your voice, but that couldn’t be.

You wouldn’t be sad if he left, he wasn’t even on your priority list.

Which is what he thought.

To you, Harry was that cute boy whom you could consider one of your closest (and only) friends.

So, upon hearing that piece of news, you were jealous of this Weasley person.

No, that wouldn’t be right. You thought. He’s been at that school for three years; you’ve just met him. Why would he want to stay because of you?

You had been lonely that summer, and when Harry came back, it was unusual.

When he came back from his fourth year, he was a mess.

He’d jump at the slightest things, like a cat or a stray dog, and would hyperventilate a lot.

One day, he’d had a particularly bad panic attack.

You were on your swings, as usual, when Harry started rolling around on the floor, clutching his head.

You had gotten used to this, so you crouched next to him.

‘Ssh, Harry, breathe.’ You’d soothingly whisper. ‘Focus on your breathing, take deep breaths. Yes, that’s better, isn’t it?’

Harry was more grateful to you than he could have been.

Despite you not knowing the reason his scar hurt, you didn’t poke in further.

You left it at that and helped him whenever he needed help the most.

Your heart sank when Dudley’s gang came marching.

You hurriedly propped Harry up on the swing, before sitting down yourself.

‘Come on a date with a girlfriend, have you?’ Dudley sneered at Harry, his mates laughing loudly.

Yet another surge of anger passed through Harry’s body. ‘Beat up another ten year old, Dudley?’

‘This one deserved it.’ Dudley nonchalantly replied.

‘Five against one... that’s nice.’ Harry snapped.

Dudley’s lips curled over his teeth in a snarl. ‘At least I’m not afraid of my pillow! Don’t think I don’t hear you moaning in your sleep!’

A muscle was jumping in Harry’s jaw.

‘Leave it.’ You whispered.

‘Oh, don’t kill Cedric!’ Dudley mocked. ‘Who is Cedric, your boyfriend?’

More laughter issued as you held onto Harry tighter.

‘Mum, he’s gonna kill him!’ Dudley went on. ‘Where is your mum? Where is your mum, Potter? Is she dead? Is she dead?!’

You had released Harry; however, it was not him who went up to Dudley.

‘Pathetic!’ you snarled in his face. ‘What do you think you’re playing at, joking about his mother’s death? Absolutely pathetic!’

Dudley had given you a half smile, gesturing to his friend.

One of the boys held you and slammed you against the roundabout, making you hit your head as you groaned.

Harry jumped up and pointed his wand right at Dudley.

It was at that moment, that the skies darkened, as if a storm was ahead.

In mid-summer.

You and Harry walked home, Dudley following behind.

Suddenly, you felt cold.

Not because of the lack of warmth, but because it became really, really cold.

You heard a scream as your vision darkened.

Harry choked for air as a Dementor held him in place, desperately searching for his wand.

He saw you collapse to the floor, panting heavily.

With great effort, Harry grabbed his wand and managed to croak out.

‘EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!’

A silver stag rose out of Harry’s wand tip and fought off the Dementor holding him in place, before heading to you.

The Dementor instantly dropped you, almost scowling, which it would have done if it had no face, and glided out of the alleyway.

Dudley looked sick, but Harry didn’t care.

He rushed to your side immediately.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, cloaks.’ You whispered. ‘Cold air, c-cloaks, I saw my father die... all o-over a-again and i-it was so c-cold, all over...’

Harry shushed you, smiling understandingly at your rambling, disgusted at whoever sent those stupid Dementors to harm somebody as innocent as you.

---------------

‘So... he’s a wizard.’ You clarified, looking at the batty woman whose living room you were sprawled across.

‘And a ruddy good one at that, I mean, a corporeal Patronus at his age-’ she said.

‘Mrs. Figg.’ You interrupted. ‘He’s... he’s going to come back next summer, isn’t he?’

‘Of course, dear, whyever not?’ she looked at you as though you’d gone mad.

‘Those things... Dementors, as you said... were they trying to harm Harry?’ you tentatively asked.

‘Yes dear, sadly, yes.’ Mrs. Figg distractedly muttered. ‘Mundungus Fletcher, when I get my hands on that little squat again, I swear!’

You were trembling.

Something was after Harry, something terrible.

And you were in no power to help him.

----------------

‘Is something the matter?’ you asked, trying hard to keep a straight face.

‘Have you ever tried macaroons; I reckon they’re brilliant.’ Harry mumbled, ignoring you.

You rolled your eyes. ‘Harry.’

Sighing, Harry looked at you. ‘Hm?’

‘What’s wrong?’ you repeated.

‘Nothing.’

Lies.

‘Harry, something is very much wrong, and you know it.’ You disapprovingly said. ‘What is it?’

Harry sighed. ‘Its just... he’s growing stronger, you know. I... I fear there might be a day where I go to Hogwarts and never come back.’

Your heart sank into your stomach.

‘Its... cmon, Harry.’ You spoke. ‘We can’t... if you think like that, then, you’re not going to fight very well, are you? I’ll have you know, I am always here for you, and I have absolutely no intentions of letting whoever kills you live in peace.’

Harry chuckled at your scathing threats.

‘I’m gonna miss you, Y/N/N.’ Harry mumbled, intertwining your fingers with his.

You sighed. ‘I’ll miss you too Harry.’

More than you can imagine.

-----------------

‘Harry Potter, open this door!’ you screamed, banging furiously, not caring it was raining and you were sopping wet.

‘Harry, I swear, I WILL BREAK THIS DOOR!’ you yelled, ripping your throat raw.

The door hesitantly opened, as a certain boy stood before you.

Choking an enormous sob, you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

Sobbing into his shoulder, you melted into his touch.

‘Ssh Y/N, ssh.’ He mumbled soothingly.

‘Harry Potter.’ You croaked. ‘You had best returned from this war ALIVE.’

‘I’ll try Y/N/N.’ Harry whispered. ‘I’ll try.’

Your sobs were growing uncontrollable, and Harry did the only thing he could think of to shut you up.

He kissed you.

Slowly and carefully, his lips took in your own, as you melted into the kiss.

Not caring about the salty tears you could taste, you gently stroked his cheek.

When you pulled apart, you sniffed. ‘Good luck, Harry.

----------------

The rain beat down on your house heavily, as you sat near your window.

Something was wrong, you could sense it.

He’s alive... God, no, he’s alive, please.

Each thought, each dream, showed you endless ways Harry would be dying.

You hated it.

After many days of crying, a knock on your door made you jump.

‘Y/N!’

That voice.

That amazing voice.

Trembling, you opened the door, seeing a messy haired Harry standing there, tears painting his face.

‘My God.’ You gasped. ‘You’re alive. Oh, Harry!’

After yet-another hug, Harry came inside.

‘I reckon I should’ve made this more special.’ He said seriously. ‘But I can not wait any longer.’

You watched, confused, as Harry took your hands.

‘Y/N L/N, the moment you came into my life, I have felt nothing but pure happiness. I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?’

You gasped, hand flying to your mouth.

Sobbing harder, you hugged him.

‘Yes.’

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #muggle #muggle reader #harry potter x muggle reader #lo #romance #angst #fluff #hp

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iwhishtomeetinournextlife · 3 years

Text

An anonymous lover (part 2)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, Sirius’ mom being a b*tch, not proof read

Words count : 1.7k

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

Part 1 - You're here - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

------------------------------------

Sirius hated receiving letters, he felt absolutly like shit everytime he received one, he hated this, hated how much the words of his mother affected him. He should be used to them by now, shouldn’t he ? “You are the shame of the family”, “a useless son”, “a blood traitor”, and so on, and so on, he’ve read it all. But still, here he was, in his bed crying like he never cried before.

He was happy his friends did not try to force him out of bed to go to class. James did say he would check up on him after he ate, after the morning classes, he would probably bring something to eat, thought Sirius. He felt so grateful to have him and his other friends in his life, to feel appraciated for who he was, with his flaws, to feel taking care of, to feel loved, but...

Sirius couldn’t stop himself to think his mother’s words were, in some ways, true. She was saying them so much, over and over again, it had to be found on reality, right ? The pain in his chest, that weight in his stomach, the feeling of rope around his throat, suffocating him, he was unable to move any member of body. So after his friends left for the morning, he closed his eyes again, trying to get some sleep after his troubled night, maybe his mind would be more at peace after a long nap.

He groaned when he got woke up by a tapping sound. “Stooop”. When the sound did not stop he stood in his bed, pissed. “James I swear if you don’t stop I-”. But his friend wasn’t in the room, no one for that matter. He looked around, trying to locate the tapping, he finally saw an owl at one of the window and get out of bed to open it.

He froze when he saw why the owl tried to get in, a letter. Sirius felt all his blood running out of his body, and the air of his lungs escaping through his mouth. Wasn’t one letter enough mother !? With a trembling hand he took the enveloppe, and watch the animal fly away. He closed his eye, breathing in and out, before daring to look at what was in his hands.

And when he looked, he couldn’t help a confused expression, that was deffinitly not from his mother. The paper was decorated with drawing of stars who seemed to.. glow ? Wierd. He smiled when he recognize the constellation on the front, his star shining the most, with written “To: Sirius Black” in dark ink.

He got intringued, and delicatly open the enveloppe, trying not to tear it. His eyes wided when he unfolled the paper and saw flowers previously dry getting fresh as new and moving drawings, a dog, a stag, a rat... He smiled, the letter must be from his friends, trying to cheer him up. It was beautiful. He felt a warm feeling going trough his body, and staying in his heart.

The lines were written in a dark purpully color, he liked that. “Dear Sirius Black, it had come to my attention you were feeling down because of a letter you received recently”, he greeted his teeth, it’s true, he must have left quite the impression yesterday at lunch. “and because I consider you to be one of the greatest person of this school, I decided to remind it to you through this letter. You and I don’t know eachother that well ”. Wait, what does that mean ? It’s not from the marauders ? “but I hope I will be able to make you feel better with my words. On how much you impact people’s life here, on how much your are loved, even by people you ignore even exist, with your pranks, like for exemple -”.

Sirius savoured every words, curves, loops, they were explaining that time the marauders field the corridors with bubble, thanks to it they were able to get away from dentation with Finch, “a very unjustify detention !” had they specified, he smiled at that, always a pleasure to help someone to get away from the janitor of Hogwarts.

They were a whole paragraphs of all the nice things Lily Evans had told them about him, “She may not show it much, but she really loves you, she admire the way you stand up for what is right, and so do I”. Whoever was that person, they know Evans, that was a beginning to discover their identity, even if a part of him still thought it was from his friends.

But that little part quickly wanished when the stranger started discribing little things he had not realised about himself, the way his nose scrunch when something annoyed him, they big smile he got when he respond correctly to a teacher who thought he was not listening, he blushed a little. Sure, Sirius was perfectly aware of the affect he had of people, but he didn’t believed anyone was really paying attention to him.

“Your are an incredibly honest person, and we lack that kind of people. The ones true to themselves, not bending to others’ expectations, and by being that way you trully are the brightest star in the sky, and unfortunatly, some people will do anything to take those person down, jealous of not being them. But do not listen to those person, keep shinning, because they will stay wretched, but you, Sirius, you will have a good life, you will be great, the best of person to have around.”

Sirius couldn’t help the tears from falling again, but they were good ones this time. These last words were what he needed right now. His smiled desappeared though when he didn’t saw any name at the end of the message. He flipped the paper, over and over again, trying to find a name, a nickname or anything, observing the little animals who kept running around as he was reading, and he looked as they seemed to try to show indicate the enveloppe right next to him. Oh, is the name written there ?

But nothing on it either, so he looked inside, a piece of sturdy paper was nicely fold, they were a word on it. “Kiss ?”. He openned the paper and froze when he got surprise feelling something on his face, slapping his hand on his forhead. “WHAT THE F-”. He ran to the nearest mirror, dropping everything on the way and looked at his face.

He was searching everywhere for a mark, was this letter a prank ? His blood boiled at the idea, of being fooled by such nice words just to be hurt right after.. but nothing. He calmed right down when he found nothing. He took back the letter, the enveloppe and the “kiss”.

“Was that.. It's really a kiss ?”, he sat on his bed again, openned the paper and payed more attenttion to it this time, yes it was. He felt lips gently pressing down on his forhead, right at his hairline. He smiled, it felt incredibly nice. He closed it before openning it once more, closing his eyes too. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it didn’t make it any less pleasant.

He felt incredibly giddy about it, he realised he had never been kissed there before, well, not that he can remember anyway. Not by any of his friend, despise being really close to them and not shying away from physical affection, not even in past relationship, he had kissed his exes of course but that felt so.. Sweet and tender, he couldn’t wait to feel it again.

When he was about to do it again, James entered the room. “You’re awake !”, James got closer to his friend and groaned at what he had in hand. “Y’ mom again ?”, Sirius shook his head “Not her, for sure, open that”, he gave his friend the little card. He looked at it and open it, and flipped it aound like it was nothing. “S’pose to do something or ..?”, Sirius’ eyes widen, “What, you didn’t feel it ?” taking back the paper he looked at it before doing what he was doing before but nothing happenned this time. He only saw three darken dots. Shit, did it run out ?

Sirius felt a huge wave of dissapointment going through him, if he had know better he would have try to not waste them so fast. “Y’good Pads ?”. Sirius nobbed. “Yeah yeah, ‘just it had kisses in it”, friend looked at him like he had lost a part of his mind and smirked. “Did you loose your head ?”.

Sirius hit him with a pillow, owning a laugh “Fuck off Prongs !” he looked down at the letter James had in his hand, the boy was waiting for his friend’s permission to read it, when he had it he observed the little animals running around. “Is that us ? Brilliant !”, “It is, yeah”, Sirius installed himself, leanning against the headboard of his bed while James was reading.

After a few minutes James whistled a bit, “Pads ! Quite a lover you’ve got here, heh ? Who sended it ?”. “That’s the problem, Prongs, I don’t know ! I just received it !”

“Wha’ ? There no way you have no idea ! Got to be someone who tried something before, no ?”, Sirius put his head back, hitting the headboard, his face anwsering for him. “Don’t worry Pads, will find her !”, Sirius raised an eyebrow, “How d’you know it’s a girl ?”, James laughed a little “Too clean of a handwritting to be a boy”. Sirius rolled his eye, to him not being much of a proof, hesitating to bet like he would usually do just to try to proove him wrong.

“You’re feeling ok to go back to class ? We could ask Evans, they seemed to know eachother”, Sirius sneered at him, “Sure, all the excuses to talk to dear Evans” making kissy sounds with his mouth, owning a hit from James, “Fuck off, I’m only trying to help you here !” Sirius smiled, “I know, thanks Prongs”

Sirius quickly got ready, carfully putting the letter on his nightstand with the enveloppe, smiling like an idiot, thinking of all the things said in the letter. He decided to take the kiss with him, it might not do anything anymore, but holding it helped him feeling the sweet kiss on him again. He didn’t know who was that person but he will for sure getting more of these from the source when he found out.

#sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #an anonymous love #sirius black #sirius x reader

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therealtsk · 3 years

Note

tsk i’m DYING to hear your play-by-play on which worm characters have dumb fanon interpretations

UH OH YOU JUST OPENED THE FLOODGATES so the short answer is pretty much every major character but I am a high-effort bitch so let's do this: Taylor Hebert: jfc, I could probably hit a word count limit talking about Taylor alone. First you have the dumb as shit TINO (Taylor In Name Only) phenomenon where people just straight up SI as Taylor but pretend it's her and she's basically a different person wearing Taylor's skin like an ill-fitting suit. Then there's the Memetic Escalator Taylor interpretation where Taylor's Warlord era characterization is flanderized so hard that she turns into her world's version of Doomguy where her response to literally everything is ultra violence, mutilation and torture and she can totally beat up anyone you guys hahah coin sock goes brrrrr you go brutalize those totally deserving victims queen. And then there's shy, stuttering, soft spoken "useless lesbian" Taylor which is not as common but still, fuckin straight men and the way they infantize gay women. Taylor is perhaps the most consistently inconsistent characterization I've seen in fandom, it's fucking wild Lisa Wilbourn: Has two fanon settings. Taylor's best friend who exists solely to give exposition and get the "Stop Coil" subplot rolling (occasional gay subtext will be added in a way that feels fetishy) Or, the evil bitchy blonde who is first target of the SI. I constantly wonder if the people who write the frankly masturbatory SI's are aware that we can tell they're still bitter about girls not dating them in highschool. Brian: basically does not exist in fic aside from the occasional joke cause racism and also because of how popular wlw ships are in Worm fandom. you deserve better dude Alec: has a few token appearances in wormfic fandom that usually have him as the comic relief alongside Aisha, which might actually be for the best considering he's a rapist and the Worm fandom's uhhhh tendencies. Moving on- Aisha: prankster girl that alt!Taylor will adopt as a younger sibling. hopefully is not part of the totally-not-a-harem considering she's even younger then the rest of these teens Bitch: Another girl to fall into alt!Taylor's definitely-not-a-harem, but with more butch tendencies. Basically has no personality in fanon outside of her dogs Parian: SHE DOESN'T HAVE A SHOP FFS also another member of Taylor's totally-not-a-harem Flechette: yeah it's a harem Sophia: holy shit you think Brian's bad? The racism in pretty much every fanon depiction of Sophia is off the charts. Hyper-violent, super edgy, "predator/prey" speech inbound, will get humilated/killed in some new, supposedly satisfying but actually just deeply uncomfortable way, probably throw in some E88 shit too just because Emma: again, do the writers know we can tell they're still malding over the fact that the pretty girls in highschool didn't date them? fanon emma is pretty much a cardboard cut out of whoever was mean to the author. something something bitches three Madison: in fanon has a C53 fetish, occasionally is also Browbeat. don't ask why Victoria: gets hit with the blonde stereotypes even harder then Lisa, "Collateral Damage Barbie" is one of the phrases that activates my flight or fight responses. she basically is an entirely different character in fanon. bubbly dumb blonde girl with a massive temper and well other sexist bullshiit Amy: I hate even touching this character with a ten foot pole but basically is hit with the "soft useless lesbian" trope hard enough to make her into a completely separate person from her canon self. whether or not this is a good thing is still up for debate Carol: in fanon, an evil bitch who exists solely to bully Amy Mark: who? The rest of New Wave: cannon fodder for Leviathan Danny Hebert: literally stale milk instead of a personality, will probably die before the fic is over but we won't care because the author did not care either Armsmaster: hahaha robotman go brrrr or is an arrogant self-aggrandizing shit, can't interact with people without Dragon helping him 24/7 Miss Militia: fanon bat'd into team mom,

idk where this came from considering her first instinct upon seeing children is to pull out a gun holy shit wait is she actually Taylor's true mom- Velocity: canon fodder for levi Battery & Assault: sitcom wife, sitcom husband! please ignore how fucked up this relationship is if you look at it for more than two seconds Dauntless: haha armsy is JEALOUS also cannon fodder for levi Triumph: who? The BB wards in general tend to be incredibly bland, the only ones who have fanon personalities of note are Clockblocker and Vista. The former being such a huge prankster that every other line is a joke- or him complaining about how BULLSHIT Alt!Taylor's powers are. Vista is an angry kiddo who says that Shadow Stalker doesn't count as being a girl on the team The E88: no personality for any of them except that Kaiser is noble and really isn't that bad and also Purity did nothing wrong totally she's just a hot mom trying to do her best, please ignore how she exclusively targets characters of color and literally calls white criminals more civilized than miniorities- the worm fandom has something of a nazi problem i hate it here The ABB: racism and honorable samurai lung even though that has no canon basis so again, racist stereotypes The Slaughterhouse 9: This one makes me just as sad as the Lisa shit because dear god this is such a good cast of villains that fanon completely flattens to bowling pins for the Alt!Taylor of the week to mow down, why does this fandom suck so much. Anyway Jack is just the Joker, Crawler is masochistic, etc i'm moving on now The PRT/Protectorate as a whole: They are an evil paramilitary organization that pressgangs kids into signing up to become child soldiers, and somehow at the same time, they are a bunch of idiots who listen to the PR department and have stupid things like RULES that prevent capes from COMMITTING VIOLENCE. Being called "the biggest gang of all" is common and some shit like "at least the criminals are honest" is a likely statement. Cauldron: whoo boy this one really boils my blood but fanon Cauldron are just a bunch of evil idiots who can't even tie their shoelaces. basically a bunch of dudebros are upset that women run the world and that two of them essentially have "I win" powers so they have to make them lose to their SI- er, Taylor in fics so they can assuage their masculinity, which totally isn't pathetic Scion: Is at once the end all be all of worm you can't write a wormfic without scion or else it's TOTALLY MEANINGLESS because what is the point of a story if all the characters are going to DIE in a few years anyway, and at the same time is incredibly easy to defeat- this ties into how Cauldron is stupid. Scion Truthers pls shut up and go read something else okay I think that's everyone I would apologize but the only thing I'm sorry for is how messy this is

#Worm #Parahumans #Worm Fanfic #Worm Fanon #if you can't tell #I'm a little annoyed with the worm fanfic fandom #dear SI writers stop being such creeps #and nazis pls fucking leave we don't want you here go away

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Forever and Ever, Prologue

Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader, Wedding Series

As Tom thinks over the two most important questions he’ll ever ask in his life, he thinks back on the day that he met you, the day his life changed forever.

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing

Word Count: 2100

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

“I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far, my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go”

~ Say You Won’t Let Go, James Arthur

~~~

Tom’s leg shook anxiously as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone. Sat right beside him in the unusually quiet German airport was Harry, who could tell something was definitely off with his brother. Harry glanced over at Tom’s phone, but he was just on Instagram, looking at a random dog account, it was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until Tom started to bite his nails that the younger boy spoke up.

“Why are you acting like you’re going to explode?” He asked. Tom stared at his brother, brown eyes wide with his thumb nail still in his mouth. He dropped his hand from his lips and shut off his phone.

“Uh, um-“ He stuttered, unsure what to say about his nerves.

“Tom-“ Harry started, but he was quickly cut off.

“I’m asking Y/N to marry me.” Tom rushed out, and this time, it was his brother’s turn to have wide eyes.

“No way! Have you told Harrison yet?”

It was a simple question. It really was, and yet Tom felt his mouth dry up at the thought. Harrison was Tom’s best friend; he’d definitely be best man at the wedding, but Harrison was your older brother, and Tom didn’t know how to ask for his permission, even just asking to date you was awkward enough. His leg started to bounce uncontrollably again as he shifted in the uncomfortable chair.

“Not exactly?” Tom replied, and Harry looked at him suspiciously.

“You haven’t told Harrison?” He questioned.

“No.” He sighed, “I know I need to, but I just don’t know how. He’s my best friend, and I know he’ll let be supportive of me and of Y/N. It’s just-“

“It’s a big step.” Harry noted, patting his brother on the shoulder, “But you know he’ll let you, so that’s got to count for something?”

“It does. Right now, I’m more nervous about dealing with the ‘hey I wanna marry your sister’ talk than actually proposing.” He admitted, running a hand through his hair.

Their conversation paused as they heard the airline announce boarding, and the two of them got on the plane with ease. Sitting down beside Tom in an aisle seat, Harry reminded him, “I’ll be honest, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this a secret, so you have a week to tell him before I spill it. I’ve already told Sam.”

“When did you have time to do that?” Tom mumbled, and his brother smiled at him helplessly, pulling on headphones and a sleep mask, ready to sleep for the entirety of the flight, even though it wasn’t a redeye.

Meanwhile, Tom looked at his phone in his hands. His phone, and his heart, lit up as a text from you came through.

“Can’t wait to see you when you land! Love you!” it read, accompanied with several heart emojis. Smiling to himself, Tom typed out a response.

“Love you too! I’m counting down the minutes until I can hug you again!” and he even added the emojis to match yours. Tom let out a sigh when the stewardess called for all phones to be switched off as they prepared for take off. With his phone in airplane mode, he found himself on his photos app, thumbing through his favorite album, compiled with pictures of you, his favorite thing in the world.

The very first photo in the album was actually the very first picture of you two. Though neither of you knew it back then, it was one of the best days of his life, as well as one of the most embarrassing.

They say that you just know when you meet your other half, the love of your life. For Tom, that was very much true; the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you’d make a lasting impact on his heart. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth for you.

It was your 17th birthday, and, like always, you and your twin brother, Harrison, had a joint party. He invited his friends, which included Tom, and you invited your own friends, including your crush from school. Tom had only been friends with Harrison for a few months, and he had no idea that his friend even had a twin sister.

So as everyone mingled around in your backyard under the colored lights from the patio, you found yourself occupied with Richard (to this day, Tom calls him Dick). Flicking your hair back, you let yourself flirt away with him, and he seemed to be getting into it as well. As he made a joke, you threw your head back in laughter— or well, in forced laughter because he wasn’t all that funny. With your eyes shut, you were completely unaware about the two boys running through the crowd. A body collided into yours and you lost your balance, falling into the pool behind you.

Even though he was the one who ran into you, Tom still blames it on Harrison, who managed to duck around you before Tom could, sending him crashing into you.

The party quieted down immediately as all eyes fell on you and your white dress in the pool. While Harrison couldn’t control his laughter at your embarrassment (like a true brother), Tom found himself frozen as he looked at you. He could still remember his heart thumping louder in his chest; he swore it was love at first sight. As you trudged your way to the stairs, Tom quickly shed himself of his jacket, thinking it’d be best to try to cover your now see-through material.

“Here.” He said to you as you stepped out of the pool, arms crossed over your chest. You eyed him for a moment, trying to see if he was serious, before you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“Dumbass.” You muttered, walking past him and his jacket and into your house. Tom stood there, confused. Surely, you knew it was an accident and you knew he was trying to be chivalrous.

As the party continued around him, Tom shrugged his jacket back on and Harrison came up behind him, still laughing at the incident. “I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that sooner.”

“What? Pushing a random girl into a pool?” Tom asked, and his friend raised his eyebrows at him in surprise.

“Mate, you realize that was Y/N, my twin sister.” The wide smile on his face did nothing to comfort Tom’s growing guilt and now the poor brunette was on the verge of a meltdown.

“That was your sister? This is her party, too?”

“I should’ve shoved her in that pool the moment Richard started chatting her up.” Harrison stated, putting an arm around his friend. “She’ll get over it.”

You didn’t get over it. You actually completely ignored his existence out of spite for nearly a year. But when you finally did get over it, Tom was glad you did.

The picture wasn’t even really a picture of you two. It was a group photo, taken by your mother after you had changed out of your soaking wet clothes. You stood in the middle of the group photograph, smiling beside Harrison, and Tom stood on the other side of his now best friend (Richard wasn’t in the photo anymore since Tom cropped him out). While it was subtle, Tom wasn’t even looking at the camera; instead, he was looking at you. Harrison loved to make fun of him for having “demon eyes”, but it was still a momentous photograph (which you actually loathed the picture because you didn’t like your damp hair in it).

As the flight took off, Tom busied himself on his laptop. With his phone connected to it, he moved over some of his favorite pictures of you, including the “horrendous” picture from your 17th birthday. He spent the next few hours piecing together the perfect slideshow, feeling his heart soar proudly as he worked on it. Though he still needed to ask Harrison for permission and still needed to get a ring, he figured now was as good a time as ever to work on his proposal plans.

He wasn’t really sure when he’d have an opportunity to talk to Harrison privately in the next week. When they land in London, they’ll be greeted by you and Harrison, probably Sam too, maybe even Paddy and his parents- he wasn’t too sure. Then, he’d spend the next week by your side, trying to get as many cuddles and kisses in as possible to make up for his time away.

The moment their plane landed and he switched his phone back onto its normal setting, a string of texts came through from the family group chat. Judging by the excessive congratulatory texts mixed with “why didn’t you tell us”, he knew Harry’s slip to Sam had gotten out. He could only hope Harrison didn’t know; it’d be a miracle if you didn’t know at this point.

As he left baggage claim with Harry, he looked for you along the pickup curb. He felt a bit disappointed when he spotted Harrison alone by his car, but then the nervousness settled in when he remembered the all important question he had to ask Harrison before he could ask you the other all important question.

“How was the flight?” Harrison asked with a bright smile, opening the trunk of his car for them.

“Slept for all of it.” Harry replied as he loaded up his luggage and Tom did the same.

“Good, just a flight. A normal flight.” Tom stated, a bit too suspiciously.

“You alright?” Harrison looked at him questioningly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” He answered defensively. With his things in the car, he made his way to the passenger seat and took a large gulp of his water, suddenly feeling dehydrated. Harry slid into the backseat, and Harrison made himself comfortable in his driver’s seat.

“I know Y/N said she was going to come, but she got dragged into a mandatory work meeting.” Harrison said, before either could ask about your absence. Tom didn’t answer, he just remained suspiciously quiet. Noticing this, the blonde spoke up, “You sure you’re fine?”

“I want-“ Tom started, before clearing his throat. He looked at his best friend beside him, nervously admitting, “I want to ask Y/N to marry me.”

Harrison was silent for a moment as he maneuvered the car out of the airport. It was probably only a few seconds that he was dead quiet, expression unreadable, but it felt like an eternity to Tom. “We’ll be brothers? Actual brothers?”

“Well, in-laws, but yeah.” Tom replied, still unsure if Harrison was okay with it. Before he could ask, the blonde reached over and punched him in the arm.

“You, dickhead, thinking I wouldn’t let you marry my sister. I thought something was seriously wrong with you.” He laughed.

“So, that’s a yes then?”

“Yes, it’s a yes. I better be the best man.”

“What about me?” Harry asked from the back. Harrison and Tom both turned around to look at him with mirrored raised eyebrows. “Alright, I get it.”

“Have you got the ring yet?” Harrison inquired, facing the road again to drive properly.

“I’ve looked at some, but I haven’t bought any yet. I know how I’m asking though.” Tom went off into a further explanation of his proposal idea. Needless to say, they were all excited about this.

The rest of the drive home was filled with proposal talk, and, when Harrison pulled up to the shared house, he let out a small sigh. “Okay, as much as I want to continue talking about this, maybe we should leave this conversation in the car.”

“Why?” Tom asked, confused by the suggestion.

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged in reply, helping them get their bags out of the car. Tom was just about to question it again when they stepped inside the house, but all thoughts about Harrison’s previous words were gone the moment the door opened.

“Surprise!” You cheered with Tuwaine and the rest of the Holland clan beside you, a ‘welcome home’ banner hanging on the wall behind you all. Tom dropped his bags and hugged you immediately. “Welcome home, baby.”

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” He mumbled in your ear, before cupping your cheeks to kiss you, not particularly caring about the pda in front of his family.

“Yeah, we’re here, too. Thanks.” Sam piped up, having just greeted his twin with a hug.

“I’m not kissing you.” Tom laughed, before letting go of you to hug his brother and the rest of his family.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up. I was busy planning all this.” You told him, once he came back to you, wrapping an arm around your waist casually.

“I love you. You’re the best.” He smiled at you, pulling you in for another kiss.

“I know.” You teased. Tom just looked at you with the fondest expression on his face, making you furrow your eyebrows at him, “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He replied, brushing it off.

As he looked at you in his arms, he thought to himself. ‘This is absolutely the girl I want to marry.’

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort

Tom Holland Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

Series Tag List: @thefallenbibliophilequote

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland series

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redladydeath · 3 years

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jhgfdfghjkhgf i was going to just post this in the video’s comment section but for some reason that’s not working so here’re act one of the william and mary play:

Mary: Look, you’re my best friend, okay? And, um, best friends tell each other everything, right? Oh my god. Excuse me. Oh, Maria Regina, it was awful! He was awful, William, my Dutch cousin, or as father likes to call him “the Dutch Dog” *laughs*… I had the honor of being forced to dine with the extended family. My little Dutch cousin William– and was he rude! Oh my god. He spent the entire meal either staring at me or grimacing at the food. No manners. And he’s old too, like, at least thirty, not that you’d know by looking at him, he’s very short, but old enough to know better, and all that I could hear the entire time was his breathing– no, no, no– wheezing, with his tiny little child-sized mouth. *imitates wheezing* [indecipherable] –cause he had [indecipherable] big monster of a nose to use, but I guess that was out of commission. And King Charles II– God save him– and all twelve of his spaniels, seated at the table, eating off of the plates– how am I related to these people?

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shh! Shh! My sister! We’re fighting! Oh god. Uncle Charles– God save him– William... ew. I’ve never fit in with this entire family and now I find out that my sister’s been ta… my sister– No, no I will not stand here and idly gossip. My sister– no. Sh– no. Sh– no. Sh– nope! Betty!

Betty: Yes, your ladyship?

Mary: Um, take Maria Regina will you?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship. Anne has been screaming for you, your ladyship.

Mary: Yes, tell her I’m dead.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: No, don’t, that’ll get her hopes up. Tell her that I’m resting– exhausted from a fascinating dinner with our exotic Dutch cousin.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: And I can trust you all? Oh, um, and would you bring me an ink, pen, and paper?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: How’s this? Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear... girlfriend– no, no, no... lover– no, too saucy– um... husband? Yeah… it’s a woman, but we’re gonna call her a husband. Don’t get confused! Um, dearest husband, after my prayers to all-mighty God, I’ve come to make peace with you, for it is a strange thing for a man and a wife to quarrel. What more can I say to prove that I love with more zeal than any lover can? You are loved with a love never known by man–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: You are loved more than can be expressed–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: By your ever-obedient–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: SHUT UP!! –wife. But to my great sorrow, I find out that you’ve been corresponding with *whispered* my sister!

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your humble servant! To kiss the ground where you go–

Anne: What are you doing?!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your dog on a string, your fish in a net, your limber trout–

Anne: She writes me too, you know!

Mary: No, she doesn’t!

Anne: Yes, she does!

Mary: Shut up! [indecipherable] If my letter has made the effect, dear “husband”, on your hard ear, I may without scruple call you my dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband.

Anne: She is not your husband and your letter to her are weird. Also, she sends me letters and calls me her husband and loves me more than she loves you and you’re a lesbian!

Mary: That word doesn’t even exist yet, Anne!

Anne: Lesbian!

Mary: Keep your voice down!

Anne: She writes me more letters.

Mary: Our love is forbidden.

Anne: Get over yourself!

Mary: She knows unlike you I’ll be queen!

Anne: Whatever. I don’t care. I don’t even want to be queen.

Mary: Oh, good, cause you never will be.

Anne: Of course I will! When your head gets so damned big from all the bullshit praise, even your ugly, masculine, lesbian neck won’t be able to support its weight. Snap! And your head will fall off, like our poor headless grandpa Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Mary: To imagine the death of a monarch is treason, I could look you in the Tower.

Anne: You couldn’t!

Mary: When I’m queen.

Anne: You wouldn’t!

Mary: I could!

Anne: Nu-uh!

Mary: Uh-huh!

Anne: You wouldn’t be the first queen to do that to a little sister.

Mary: Well, you came in here and started it.

Anne: I know. I have something to tell you.

Mary: You could’ve waited!

Anne: I have a memory. About mummy.

Mary: Did you? Really? Would you tell me?

Anne: When we knew she wouldn’t make it much longer, she asked me to come to her bedside. She had just got her blood let, so she was speaking very openly.

Mary: It’s okay, Anne!

Anne: She asked me “Do you know why I named your older sister Mary but named you after me?”

Mary: Why?

Anne: Mummy said… “Because prefer you to that bitch older sister!”

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Mom liked me more!

Mary: I was named after a queen!

Anne: Yeah, Bloody Mary! “Oh, look at me! I’m named after a fat, bloated Tudor Catholic!”

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I just came in here to ask how dinner went.

Mary: It was lovely. Leave!

Anne: Was it? I bet it was boring.

Mary: Only for a child but when you’re fifteen years old you appreciate stimulating conversation!

Anne: [indecipherable]

Mary: Good!

Anne: Was he… stimulating?

Mary: Ew! I mean… yes.

Anne: What was he like?

Mary: Tall, dark, handsome.

Anne: Really? Tall, dark, and handsome?

Mary: Mmyeah.

Anne: I’m jealous.

Mary: You should be.

Anne: Did he stare at you?

Mary: What? No.

Anne: I guess he wouldn’t. Not after what I have heard.

Mary: Oh, I don’t even want to hear your idle gossip– what did you hear?

Anne: Oh, it’s just that father told me that Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –Tried to marry you off to him.

Mary: What?

Anne: For some Dutch alliance.

Mary: What?

Anne: Yeah. He turned you down though.

Mary: He turned me down?

Anne: Three times.

Mary: What?

Anne: And here I was going to come in and make fun of you! I thought William was a tiny little goblin man. That would’ve been so embarrassing!

Mary: Right…

Anne: If you were turned down by an ugly little goblin man.

Mary: Right…

Anne: Three times!

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Why?

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I thought he was stimulating!

Mary: I want to be alone!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re so weird! Maybe you’ll actually fit in if you didn’t lock yourself in your room all the time writing creepy letters. Some queen you’ll be! You’re friends with a fish!

Mary: Well, I will be queen whether I want to or not!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re engaged to Louis the fucking XIV, what right do you have to be mad at me?

Mary: ...Have you seen the latest portrait of Louis?

Anne: Yeah!

Mary and Anne: *squee*

Anne: He’s fucking gorgeous! Even for a Catholic!

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Anne: Milky skin, so fucking rich! Full deep eyes, tight little French ass…

Mary: Anne! God is listening!

Anne: [indecipherable] I’m just appreciating the work! Those portraits are rarely accurate though. You saw the portrait of Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –He looked like a Roman god dipped in oil.

Mary: What?

Anne: He glistened Mary! Like a buttered up Roman statue! In reality, he looks more like butter. Well… butter with syphilis.

Mary: Oh my god, you can be quite cruel Anne.

Anne: I’m destined to marry one of our fat, inbred cousins, so I’m allowed to be.

Mary: Sorry.

Anne: Yeah, it’s whatever. Well, I’m going! Unlike you I actually have friends to hang out with.

Mary: Oh, bad company ruins good morals.

Anne: Fuck you! See you at dinner.

Mary: That’s why that little Dutch dwarf was staring at me. Oh my God, could you imagine that tiny, wheezing little man crawling into your bed every night– oh my god, it’s an offensive thought! But the most offensive part? He said no! He said no to me! Oh my God, the man is a slug! William of Orange– blegh! And Uncle Charles– God save him– tried to make me marry that, not that I would’ve! No! I would’ve told him off, right to his face. I’m not afraid of him! I will not be made a sacrificial lamb. I would’ve told him off to his face! Right to his tiny, regal, little mustache: “No, Uncle! You may be king, but I will not marry that creature! Put me in chains; lock me in the Tower; feed me to the ghost of Cromwell; I absolutely refuse to marry that creature!” I would’ve told him off. I will not be made a sacrificial lamb!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Betty: Your uncle, King Charles II– God save him– is here your ladyship.

Mary: Okay, send him in.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

*dogs yapping*

Charles: Quiet, quiet, quiet! [indecipherable] Good doggy-woggys! Now, niece!

Mary: Oh, Uncle, God save you–

Charles: Rise dear! You’re one of the few girls at court I’d rather not see on her knees.

Mary: Oh– ew.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: I’ve just come from your mother and father’s apartments.

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Charles: Charming lady, your new mummy. She’s got those bovine hips, so I assume she’ll be plopping out heirs as soon as James’ dousing rod directs her away from foreign [indecipherable].

Mary: Oh my God.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: If God is good– and we know he is– she’ll give birth to a few boys before she’s spent. Women are quite fragile, as you know Mary. It’s especially hard with our good Stuart stock and– Oh, Dicky, no, no hump, no hump, daddy has a [indecipherable]. Might we can hope for a few younger brothers– you’d like that, wouldn’t you Mary?

Mary: Oh, yes, dear uncle. How I love being an older sister to our dear, simple Anne and how I’d revel in the opportunity to be an older sister again.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: [indecipherable] England [indecipherable] worry that another woman would take the throne.

Mary: Yes, poor England.

Charles: Yes.

Mary: Ah, ah, ah, ah!

Charles: Dicky! If that heifer can squeeze out just one little boy, England is saved! Oh, Mary, you see it’s not that women shouldn’t be involved in politics, it’s that they can’t. Their brains aren’t built for it! I don’t even know if you can comprehend what I’m saying to you right now!

Mary: I’m lost.

Charles: Yes, I assumed so. Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: *chocking, spits* [indecipherable] Go on, up! [indecipherable] Now, where were we? Yes– women are not fit to rule.

Mary: Sorry, once more.

Charles: I am king.

Mary: You are king.

Charles: I am a great king.

Mary: You are a great king.

Charles: Women… cannot be kings.

Mary: No, they’re queens.

Charles: …Very good Mary! I’m very proud. That’s a real thought you just had!

Mary: I’m lost again.

Charles: So, if I am king and women…?

Mary: Can’t be kings.

Charles: Then women…?

Mary: Can’t be great kings?

Charles: Exactly! I am very impressed with your understanding of Restoration politics. As king, I’ve found it requires tremendous subtlety. OW! Dicky, get off! Dicky, don’t let–! God, you bastard! Bite that hand that feeds you, ey? Groom of the Stool!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty?

Charles: Lock him in the Tower!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty.

Charles: You made a big mistake, Dicky! No [indecipherable] bites a sovereign.

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty!

Charles: Now, let us break our conversation into greater areas regarding your sex.

Mary: Ah, like needle crappy gossip.

Charles: And… boys.

Mary: Ah, yes, boys.

Charles: And… marriage.

Mary: Ah, yes, my purpose in life.

Charles: You a beautiful Stuart girl– Protestant– a large Protestant wedding to a regal, Protestant husband.

Mary: No, ha, Louis’ Catholic.

Charles: Louis? Yes, he’s Catholic.

Mary: Right, but you just said–

Charles: You, a beautiful Stuart girl–

Mary: Oh no!

Charles: A large Protestant wedding–

Mary: Oh, god!

Charles: To a regal–

Mary: No!

Charles: Protestant...

Mary: Please!

Charles: Did you enjoy dinner last night? You [indecipherable] to impressed your cousin.

Mary: No.

Charles: William! Were you taken by him, Mary?

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: He was very taken by you.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: Your first cousin, so you’ll have a lot in common!

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: My dead sister’s boy! She was a real bitch.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: And you’ll have the line of succession, so you won’t have to worry about being queen, Mary. William can handle it. Sorry he’s such a cold, ugly bastard.

Mary: *spluttering*

Charles: Your Catholic father *spits* is pissed. Not surprising, but I ordered him to shut the fuck up about it. The wedding is next week. La~!

Mary: Wait! Anne!

Charles: Oh, you’re too thoughtful, dear girl! Anne will be fine on her own.

Mary: No, no, no, marry Anne off to William!

Charles: Certainly not! You’re next in line after your idiot father. We’ll marry Anne off to one of the fat, inbred cousins.

Mary: But I learned French!

Charles: And now you’ll get to learn Dutch! It’s not a beautiful language, but it matches the people. The king exits!

Mary: *sobbing*

*church music / exert of “Aria” by Marco Rosano*

Priest: Gathered! His Royal Highness Charles II!

Ensemble: GOD SAVE HIM!

Priest: The bride’s father James (the eventual second)– what? Your father refused to attend!

Mary: *sobbing*

Priest: We are gathered today in the eyes of our Protestant God to witness the eternal joining of two people, and more importantly, two nations. Our beloved England and our at-least-for-the-time-being-not-enemy Holland.

*fanfare*

Priest: The Dutch Stand Stadtholder! ...William? ...The Prince of Orange!

William: *violent coughing*

Priest: William? You good?

William: Ja.

Priest: Do you need a minute?

William: [indecipherable]

Priest: Okay! So… the, uh… the Dutch Stadtholder! The Prince of Orang– William?

William: *violent coughing* [indecipherable]

Priest: We are gathered– we are– we’re gathered– we are gathered– gathered– and we are gathered–

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Pardon?

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Sorry, I–

William: [Dutch word], stepping [Dutch word].

Priest: Oh, yes. *groaning* NOW! We are gathered for the joining of two people, two nations, and one [indecipherable] faith. Do you, Mary, take a solemn vow to obey and honor William until you’re parted by death? Okay, good. Do you, William, take a solemn vow to take Mary as your bride and treat her with whatever respect you happen to feel like showing her? Alright, whoo! You’re all good in here. You may kiss the bride.

William: *violent coughing*

*retro dance music* / exert of “Oh! Oh! I'm Goin' Home” by The Peppers

Mary: Wow. Midnight. Where did the time go?

William: Time for bed.

Mary: Right. Yup. Time for bed. It’s late and… it’s late and… it’s late and… it’s time for bed and there’s the bed, it’s time for bed and… we’re married now.

Charles: Now, nephew! To your purpose! God save Saint George and England! *giggling*

Mary: Right, historically, um, all of that actually happened. Well– oh, sorry, I was talking to someone else. Well, I guess it’s late, right? It’s late and it’s, um, time to go do– time to do– time to go do do do do do do do do doing of it. Ah! Wow. A ring… Is it for me? …Should I take it? …I’ll take it. Wow… a ruby… yes, ruby– rubies are very– rubies are red! Red. Rubies are… pink actually, now that I look at it. Funny, they’re really much more pink. Everyone always says “ruby red” but they’re much more pink when you look at it, oh look at that, it’s–

William: My mother’s.

Mary: Your mother’s? Wow. Beautiful. Ring. That was your mother’s. Ring, ruby, ring, ruby, ring–

William: She’s dead.

Mary: What? Oh, I’m sorry. About that– that she’s dead. What happened? Sorry! No, none of my business. Poor Mum! Um, my mom is dead. Died when I was a child so… I know what it’s like. To have a dead mum. *awkward laughter*

William: You don’t have to smile for me. You don’t have to pretend.

Mary: Dearest dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband– this is the woman again, um... You’ll find a pair of horns on your front door for… it appears I’ve taken another husband. Hm…

*whistle*

Anne: I brought you a going-away present. It’s another goldfish.

Mary: Thank you, sister.

Anne: I knew you already that one, so you’d like it. I hope they don’t eat each other. Do goldfish eat each other? Is it a long trip to Holland?

Mary: I don’t know!

Anne: You seem glum. Story time! When Aunt Catherine–

Mary and Anne: God save her!

Anne: Married Uncle Charlie–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: She had to leave Portugal in order to marry him. She hadn’t even met him yet, so I guess it could be worse.

Mary: Yes, but she came to England, I’m leaving it!

Anne: Yeah, fair. Just trying to help.

Mary: I don’t need your help, dear sister, this is my cross to bear.

Anne: Saint Mary the Martyr of English diplomacy! If only you were Catholic.

Mary and Anne: *spit*

*whistle*

Mary: I’ve never left London, that’s what scares me the most. God be with thee, sister. God be with thee, England.

William: …Two.

Mary: Oh. Yes, Anne got me one as a going-away pr– okay.

Anne: I hate him.

Mary: Well, he’s your brother now.

Anne: Please, I hated him when he was my cousin. I think you should be the first Protestant saint just for sleeping with him. I can’t even imagine!

Mary: …Neither can I.

Anne: WHAT?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!

Mary: Well, considering we haven’t, that’s everything to tell!

Anne: Oh my God! You’ve been married a week!

Mary: This stays between you and me, Anne!

Anne: Oh, but Mary, I have to tell my friends!

Mary: I don’t like your friends!

Anne: Fuck you! The court would die if they knew!

Mary: No!

Anne: But Mary, you can’t tell something this juicy and force me to hold it inside!

Mary: Shh!

Anne: But it’s not you Mary, it’s him. That puny prig.

Mary: No.

Anne: But you don’t even like him!

Mary: What wife likes her husband?

Anne: He’s so gross and I used to think you were gross, but he’s like, super gross. Oh thank God you’re not screwing! Your kids would be so gro– I didn’t realize Papa hadn’t told you the truth about him!

Mary: Oh, what did father say?

Anne: He buggers boys. Said he buggers boys. Said if he takes the throne, England gets two queens.

Mary: …I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths, Anne… And tell my other husband I’ll send her the new address.

Anne: Gross! [indecipherable] each other!

*Dutch folk music* / exert of “Klompe Dans” by Camerata Trajectina

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Oh, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Ah, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you.

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, good day William!

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Life in Holland. It’s beautiful. It’s very, very clean.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Your ladyship?

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you! Please keep talking, Betty.

Betty: Your ladyship–

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Anything in English– thank you!

Betty: *whispers*

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

*fanfare*

Betty: Supper time!

Mary: I’m not hungry.

Betty: Not you, your ladyship.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland…

Mary: …Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

Mary: I must grin when my heart is fit to break, I must speak when my heart is so oppressed I can scarcely breathe.

Betty: Oh, that’s real pretty. The Bastard, your ladyship.

Mary: The Bastard?

Betty: Your half-cousin, King Charles II– God Save Him–’s bastard son, your ladyship.

Mary: Here?

Betty: Uh-huh.

Mary: Whoo!

Monmouth: Cousin!

William: Let me not interrupt your reunion. Continue this.

Mary: How’s home?

Monmouth: England is good! The family not so much. My father, Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –seems ill. Parliament hates your father, James (the eventual second) since he’s decided to be Catholic–

Mary and Monmouth: *spit*

Monmouth: –since we just had nine years of civil war, ugh! People would rather avoid any foreseeable royalist drama, so Parliament wrote the Exclusion Act to keep your father off the throne.

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –refused to sign it.

Mary: Oh, good.

Monmouth: No! That’s why [indecipherable] is shit! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –dissolved Parliament, hoping to form a more moderate one.

Mary: Oh, good!

Monmouth: No! Bad! A group of Protestants then tried to blow up my papa Charlie–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –on his way back from a race to [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: Oh yes!

Monmouth: –[indecipherable] watching the race, ALL OF NEWMARKET CAUGHT ON FIRE!!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No, that’s good! Charles’– God save him– house in Newmarket was destroyed, so they had to leave the race early, thus foiling the plot to kill him!

Mary: Oh, God is very generous to our family. And how’s Anne?

Monmouth: Married.

Mary: Oh, to one of the inbred cousins?

Monmouth: We’re royal! Inbred cousins are the only dignified option! How’s life in the Dutch court?

Mary: Um… clean, it’s very, very clean.

Monmouth: Ah, thank God you have William.

Mary: *hysterical laughter* ...Yes. No, I do see William from time to time. He likes to walk from stage left to stage right to stage right to stage left.

Monmouth: Incredibly generous man– looking forward to our dinner tonight! He invited me to hunt tomorrow and all the rest of next week! Very charming!

Mary: You’ve only been onstage for a minute and a half!

Betty: There are more officials for you to meet, your ladyship.

Monmouth: See you around, cuz. Ch-cha! …Ch-cha!

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

William: …Welkom in Nederland! *laughter, interrupted by violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Alright! Her ladyship has another engagement she must prepare for, so sorry!

Mary: Ugh, what’s next Betty?

Betty: Nothing, your ladyship. I just think you’ve been gawked at enough today.

Mary: Oh, thank you Betty!

Betty: What’s a lady-in-waiting for?

Mary: But I’m afraid William might be cross once he finds out I didn’t finish all the state greetings. I guess I’d actually have to spend time with him for him to be cross with me.

Betty: He’s not one to get cross about things; he’s quite charming actually if you get past the hermetic silence.

Mary: I suppose he prefers the company of *whispered* his men?

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: *laughing*

William: *starts coughing violently*

Monmouth: I love this guy!

*fanfare*

Betty: You’ve heard that already, have you?

Mary: Is it true?

Betty: Rumors, your ladyship. I also heard rumors of a girl who wrote letters to a woman she called her husband. And I now know a woman who still writes these letters!

Mary: Dismissed!

Betty: Your ladyship.

Mary: Wait. Put the children to bed, will you? Wait– wait, wait wait– just [indecipherable]. Don’t judge me! Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– stop!– husband… Let me start again: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband: You’ve not responded to any of my letter as of late!

Anne: Dearest sister!

Mary: Oh good God, Anne! Still able to interrupt me from across the English Chanel!

Anne: It is with good nice that I write. Since we last spoke… I’m pregnant!

Mary and Anne: *squeeing*

Anne: I know! I know! I fucking know! Ah, someone has to produce some heirs in this family!

Mary: Hey…

Anne: What have you been up to? Oh! My friends are here! Thank you, sis!

Mary: Anne is pregnant. My younger sister is pregnant …I’m jealous! Ugh!

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: To hunt!

Monmouth: ♪ I’ll sing you eight, O! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Green grow the rushes, O! ♪

William: ♪ What are your eight, O? ♪

Monmouth: ♪ Eight for the April Rainers! ♪

William: ♪ Seven for the seven stars in the sky! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Six for the six proud walkers! ♪ Five for the symbols at your door! ♪ Four for the Gospel makers! ♪ THREE, THREE THE RIVALS! ♪ Two, two the lily-white boys! ♪ Clothed all in green, O! ♪ One is one and all alone! ♪ And evermore shall be so! ♪

*fanfare*

Mary: Betty!

Betty: *imitating the song*

Mary: Stop!

Betty: Oh! Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: My cousin, the Bastard, and Prince William have been spending an awful lot of time together!

Betty: William loves the hunt.

Mary: How do you know?!

Betty: He told me!

Mary: You’ve spoken with him? Am I the only person in the entire world who’s not had a single conversation with my husband?!

Betty: You just need to catch him in the right mood.

*fanfare*

Mary: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– Oh my God, you’re pathetic! Two husbands and neither one replies!

Anne: Okay, so I wasn’t pregnant. Well, I was, but I’m not anymore.

Mary: Oh… Anne I’m so sorry!

Anne: I know. But I will be again. Maybe tonight! God be with me!

Mary: I don’t have to be Mary the Martyr. I can fix him. I can make it work. It’s a job, right? I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I’m just doing my job!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! Um, I was wondering–

William: Nothing!

Monmouth: The hunt did not go well!

William: Ugh!

Anne: Yup, pregnant!

Mary: Again? Wow!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’d love to talk with you!

William: …but–but–but we’re going to the hunt?

Mary: Yes, but I’d really like to talk with you.

William: …Okay?

Mary: In private.

William: Um… After the hunt?

Mary: Yeah, okay, sure.

*fanfare*

Anne: Okay, that pregnancy wasn’t meant to be, but tonight, THIS IS THE ONE!

Mary: Tonight, this is the one!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’m so looking forward to our evening!

William: Not in the mood!

Monmouth: The stag got away!

*fanfare*

Mary: The stag got away…

Anne: Pregnant!

Mary: Ugh!

*fanfare*

Mary: William, wait! Tonight?

William: Eh!

Mary: Wait! Here, for good luck!

Monmouth: *retching*

*fanfare*

Mary: Tonight! Tonight!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, husband! How was the hunt?

William: I got the stag!

Mary: Oh, you must be very merry!

William: I… uh… I’m exhausted. Ugh…

Monmouth: Come on. Shake it off.

William: *violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Mary: I will force myself to love this creature.

*fanfare*

Mary: *screams* ...Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! It must have been a chill!

William: [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh, oh no! Oh no! Oh, my slipper! Oh, I–I’m so sorry to, uh, keep you from you duties!

William: I’ve been meaning to schedule a time for our talk.

Mary: Oh, you remembered?

William: What was the subject?

Mary: Us. You and me. Us and our… duties.

William: Ah. Our political duties are not as rulers, but as first citizens. Stadtholder means “the first citizen.” It is very different from life in England. For example, no Dutch citizen kisses my hand. In the Netherlands, we are all equals. Calvinists, Protestants, Jews– even the Jews Mary. [indecipherable] Do you like Holland?

Mary: Oh, it’s very, very clean. I’m not, um… I’m not sure if I’m fitting in.

William: Well, I don’t fit in and I was born here.

Mary: I feel the same way about my family.

William: Our family.

Mary: You’re very close to the Bastard, you know. Hunting and… actually talking and I was thinking, now that we’re actually talking, Anne is pregnant… again.

William: Ja? ...Yes? …This life is not the life you wanted, is that a true thing I just said? Bastard! Where is [indecipherable]?!

Monmouth: *whispers*

William: Your uncle, Charles II–

Mary: God save him!

William: –he’s dead.

Charles: …Oh.

Anne: I had a miscarriage. Oh, and Daddy’s the king now. God save him.

William: To his newly crowned majesty– James II– I send you greetings–

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James II! Boy, you’re the husband of my eldest daughter, the heir apparent to the throne of England, my father’s grandchild, my son-in-law: it’s King James II!

William: Ah. From one very close ally to another very, very close ally– that is what we still are, right?

James: Say it! Say my name, William!

William: King James II?

James: YES! That’s me, the king! Say it again!

William: King James II, I first wish to send you condolences on the death of your brother, God save hi–

James: I was at his bed when he passed.

William: Surely, you provided much comfort to Charles–

James: Oh, “surely provided much comfort to Charles,” yes! He converted, on his deathbed, to Catholicism!

William: *spits*

James: I’ll never forget his final words to me: “Make sure my whores don’t starve!” Men of power keep mistresses, you know… Do you know that, William?

William: …Well, uh, the reason I write is because, well, I have an offer for you. You see, here in Europe we have a little club. I call it “a league”. Not everyone is allowed into it, actually, but England most definitely would be allowed in “the league”. It is what may be described as “exclusive”. A lot of really great countries have joined: uh, Austria, Spain, the Netherlands, even Savoy.

James: Which countries are not allowed?

William: France.

James: Oh, don’t like Louis, do we?

William: No, I don’t! Louis wants to be king of Europe and he– he is routinely invading us here in Holland. Your son-in-law: who is that? That is me! Which I know you aren’t thrilled about, but your daughter is the Princess of Orange. Louis XIV is invading not just my country, but also her country.

James: Please. Mary’s country is, and always will be, England!

William: And as the future Queen of England, you should protect her.

James: I wouldn’t be so sure about Mary. While she is the eldest, she’s still a woman, and unlike you, William, I plan to perform kingly duties with my queen.

William: I just wanted to invite you to our league.

James: I’m very important, I’ve got to go.

William: France is at our borders as we speak!

James: That’s not my problem. Mary was betrothed to him for years, you know, before she married you. My idiot brother made that happen against my protests but I’m the king now! I wasn’t supposed to be, but God wanted me. God needs me! Sixty years of second-fiddle to King Syphilis and now I’m calling the shots, William! I don’t need you, you need me, and frankly, I don’t really like you.

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!

William: Why you do that?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!! Thank you. Ooo, ooo, how they all loved my brother Charles the Pervert– forced me to marry my daughter to that Dutch abortion! Now, I’d like to speak to the court! You all like… gossip, don’t you? Let’s talk about William.

*retro music / exert of “O Samba Brasileiro” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: They’re laughing, Maria Regina. They’ve been whispering all morning and I don’t– I don’t want to sound paranoid but… I hear my name. I hear William’s name and I hear… Betty’s name.

Messengers: God save him!

Mary: Hello?

Messenger 1: Your father sends us–

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: James II–

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Oh, Father sends you?

Messengers: God save him, yes!

Messenger 2: In his infinite and divine wisdom, we were sent to you–

Messenger 1: His oldest daughter–

Messenger 2: Possibly the future queen–

Mary: Possibly?

Messenger 1: Your mother, the queen–

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Messenger 2: Is hoping to reward England with many sons–

Messenger 1: But one’s eyes are to the future–

Messenger 2: He hasn’t forgotten his eldest.

Mary: Oh, we haven’t spoken–

Messenger 1: He thinks of you often.

Mary: Well, he doesn’t write.

Messenger 1: It’s not that he thinks of you as you are–

Mary: Okay…?

Messenger 2: More for what you could be.

Mary: Well, I’m just happy that he’s thinking of me.

Messenger 2: He’s thinking of your soul.

Messenger 1: Your eternal soul.

Messenger 2: Your eternal, everlasting soul.

Mary: Yup, those both mean the same thing.

Messenger 1: Since Jesus was crucified–

Messenger 2: [indecipherable], mind you–

Mary: Yes, I’ve heard.

Messenger 1: A church was born–

Messenger 2: The Catholic Church!

Mary: *spits* Oh, sorry, habit.

Messenger 1: James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has sent us–

Messenger 2: In his infinite and sacred judgment–

Messengers: To convert you to Catholicism!

Mary: …Yeah, no, I’m good.

Messenger 1: It’s the true faith.

Mary: Yes, next time he could just write.

Messenger 2: [indecipherable] reading materials!

Mary: Right, or even visit–

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] all the celebrities are Catholic.

Messenger 2: Wow, really?

Messenger 1: Really!

Messengers: Like who?

Messenger 2: The pope, you ever heard of him?

Messenger 1: Of course! Wow, the pope is Catholic?

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: God!

Mary: Debatable.

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: Louis XIV.

Messenger 1: Whoah, he’s a heartthrob.

Mary: Yes, okay, I’ve heard enough!

Messenger 1: But Louis’ such a hunk!

Messenger 2: And Catholic!

Messenger 1: And… He’s Catholic?

Messenger 2: You better believe it!

Messengers: A Catholic hunk!

Mary: Okay, I’m married!

Messenger 1: For now.

Mary: …Excuse me?

Messenger 1: Hard to ignore the rumors–

Messenger 2: Naughty rumors–

Messenger 1: Everyone’s tittling–

Messenger 2: A-tittle here, a-tittle there–

Messengers: Tittle everywhere!

Messenger 1: That little Dutch devil–

Messenger 2: Evil Protestant pervert–

Mary: Oh, no, no, no, him buggering boys– that’s just a rumor!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messengers: Buggering boys?!

Messenger 1: More like buggering the help.

Messenger 2: Dutch devil!

Mary: With the help?

Messengers: Buggering the help.

Messenger 1: Yes, everyone knows–

Messenger 2: Knows her name even.

Mary: Do you know their name?

Messenger 1: Well, I’ve said everyone–

Messenger 2: We’re part of everyone–

Mary: So, yes?

Messengers: Yes!

Mary: What’s his name?

Messenger 1: His name?

Messenger 2: His name?

Messengers: Squinty Betty!

Messenger 1: Squinty Betty’s a man?

Messenger 2: I didn’t know she was a man!

Messeger 1: No, I bet Betty’s a man.

Messenger 2: No, man, she’s a wo-man.

Messenger 1: Wo-man?

Messengers: Wo-man, she’s a wo-man!

Mary: Wait, Squinty Betty?!

Messenger 1: And the Dutch devil!

Messenger 2: Evil Dutch devil!

Messenger 1: Evil!

Messenger 2: Evil: that’s not good!

Messenger 1: No, it’s not good!

Messenger 2: That’s the opposite of good!

Messengers: And what’s the opposite of good?

Mary: Evil!

Messangers: *scream*

Mary: *screams*

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has the fires burning.

Mary: Fires?

Messenger 2: To feel the heat.

Messenger 1: Ow!

Messenger 2: Careful.

Messenger 1: It’s the heat.

Messenger 2: I feel it.

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] King James [indecipherable] our beloved England [indecipherable] burning more evil people than Charles ever did.

Mary: Wait, he’s burning people?

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: He’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Father’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Jesus!

Messengers: Praise him!

Messenger 1: Praise Jesus!

Messenger 2: Praise God!

Messenger 1: Praise the pope!

Messenger 2: And above all, praise the king!

Messengers: God save King James II, long may he reign!

Mary: …William and Betty– no… No, I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths… Betty! Um, throw these away. And, um, put the children to bed, will you? Oh– oh– oh– oh– oh, um… question: how is it you always to find William in such a talkative mood?

Betty: I just run into him.

*laid back retro music / exert of “Rain” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: It’s late. No, you don’t have to leave. You were in Betty’s room. Do you know how I know that? Maybe because the entire court is talking about it! No, you don’t need to talk! I have tried to get you to talk for months, you do not need to talk now! Fuck off, Betty! The longest I’ve ever spent with you is [indecipherable]. You’re impossible! You’re thick! Uncaring! Cruel! My life here is suffering and now you make me the fool? To my father, to the court, and to myself! I’m the fool! You know, it was better when I thought you were gay; I thought “Well, at least it’s not my fault” but now I know, “No, it is my fault!” You turned down marrying me once before, why did you have to say yes this time? I was engaged to Louis XIV! I could’ve been in Versailles, in the most beautiful place on Earth and I would’ve been happy– no, I would be happy! And I would be liked and my family would love me and I would’ve done everything right, but then you came along! And ruined it! And everything! And me! And– this isn’t right! No! This is not how this was supposed to go! It was supposed to be me and Louis and it would’ve been right and normal and then I would be normal and happy and I don’t know– I don’t know why you had to say yes this time! Louis– Louis– Louis is– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis’ the king! Right? Right? And he’s beautiful! I assume. I’ve seen the portraits– which are rarely accurate– but I’ve always wanted to marry him! Well, I was always supposed to marry him– but at least he’s nice! Yes, I’ve not met him, but at least I’ve heard that he’s ni– well, I guess I’ve actually not heard anything, but I was alway supposed to ma– Well, I guess I always– Okay, well, I guess I’ve never really actually thought about it! Well, I guess I never actually like Louis, or men… Men in general. I mean, I write to a woman who I call my husband, and I’ve always had a crush on her, but she’s not very nice to me, and she writes to my sister more than she writes to me, AND I DON’T KNOW IF I’M A LESBIAN, OKAY?! I don’t like men! But I don’t know if I like women either– historically speaking, there’s some things we just can’t know about me, okay, historically speaking– but personally speaking, you know what? I’M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD!! How am I supposed to know?! You know what? No! I didn’t want to marry Louis, now that I think about it, because, well, I never actually thought about it because, well, I’M NEVER SUPPOSED TO THINK! But I am gonna think! Like you said, we’re just first citizens here, right? So I’m allowed to think! So I’m gonna think! So I’m gonna think! Right, let me think! …Okay. I have something to say. I’m fifteen years old, William. Do you have any idea how scary this is? Leaving my country, marrying you, a stranger, I… I don’t speak the language, I don’t have any friends, and you, my husband, are still a stranger. You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to like me. But please don’t be cruel to me. I… I do not know how much… more a fifteen year old girl can take.

William: …Betty’s a spy. Before I married you, I had asked her to inform me about you.

Mary: Yeah, a spy, that’s the best you could come up with–

William: It’s true.

Mary: Yes, my lady-in-waiting is a spy! …Well, what did Betty the spy say?

William: She said you weren’t like your family.

Mary: Well, I tried to be like them.

William: I never tried.

Mary: Well, I think that makes you honest.

William: But not liked.

Mary: Well, they don’t like either of us. We share that at least.

William: I need to say something.

Mary: Okay! Good! Yeah! Okay! I’m here! I can listen! …Is it a problem? Is it personal? Is it about what I think it’s about? I know what it is, William.

William: You do?

Mary: Yes. It’s about–

Mary and William: Your penis / Your father

William: Wait, what?!

Mary: What about my father?

William: He terrifies me.

Mary: Oh, yeah, me too.

William: The balance of peace in this world is a delicate thing and James isn’t.

Mary: You can talk to me about these things, William. I know who my father is, you’re not going to hurt my feelings.

William: Yes… My penis?

Mary: Oh, um, well, I mean… why haven’t we…?

William: I’m uncomfortable around–

Mary: Me.

William: …people.

Mary: Oh, yeah, well, same, haha... But, um… It’s just a job, right? We would just be… doing our… our job.

*classical music / exert of “Zadok The Priest, Hwv 258″ by the English Chamber Orchestra*

William: *panting*

Mary: I HAVE NEWS! …I’M PREGNANT!! I did it! William did it! We, um… well, obviously, we did it. Oh my God, I feel a strange thing!

William: Are you okay?!

Mary: No! Yes! No! …I feel… happy.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: Hello, Anne!

Anne: Hello, Mary.

Mary: You’re pregnant?

Anne: No, Mumsy is.

Mary: She’s not our mother.

Anne: They say if it’s a boy, God has chosen to make England Catholic again, but that’s only a 50-50 chance.

Mary: No, he wouldn’t baptize him Catholic, Anne.

Anne: I wouldn’t be so sure.

Mary: But we’ve just had nine years of civil war, why would he lead us into another?

Anne: To save us from the Dutch Devil.

William: Me?

Anne: I prefer “the Dutch Abortion” but “devil” isn’t bad. Gotta go!

Mary: God be with thee, Anne.

Anne: P.S. I may be pregnant, not sure.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Mary: Ohhh!

Messengers: Glorious day!

Messenger 1: Tra-la!

Messenger 2: We’ve been sent to you by your father, the king!

Messenger 1: God save him!

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Again, he could always just write.

Messenger 1: He has his own pregnancy to attend to.

Messenger 2: His future son!

Mary: Are you certain about that?

Messenger 1: God ordained it!

Messenger 2: A Catholic England!

Messengers: Tra-la!

Messenger 1: We’ve been sent to beseech you.

Messenger 2: Consider your child’s–

Messenger 1: Everlasting soul!

Messenger 2: Baptize your child in the Catholic faith!

Mary: *spits* …morning sickness.

Messenger 1: For your child!

Messenger 2: For your father!

Messenger 1: You must respect him!

Messenger 2: Honor him!

Messenger 1: It’s in the Bible!

Messenger 2: “Honor thy father”!

Messengers: The Fifth Commandment!

Messenger 1: Honor the king of England!

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: Long may he reign!

Messenger 2: For England!

Messengers: Make the baby Catholic!

William: Mary?

Mary: Yes?

William: Honor is not obeying.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: You’re pregnant.

Anne: Besides that, Mary, but yes.

Mary: Oh, congratulations!

Anne: Yes, same to you!

Mary: Thank you!

Anne: Thank you! I have news: people are talking about Mother’s pregnancy–

Mary: Ah, she’s not our mother.

Anne: –And they think it’s all a big fake! Everyone is saying how [video skips]

Mary: Who’s saying that?

Anne: The court, Parliament, everyone! Oh, they don’t like Papa; they say every nineteen out of twenty want him gone.

Mary: Yes, but not likely cause the king does not–

William: Mary–

Anne: Ew!

Mary: Anne!

Anne: Sorry… Hello, William… glad you got my sister pregnant. *retches*

Mary: No. No, it’s not right for me to dance… No! No, I can have this moment! I can be happy! Yeah, nothing’s gonna stop me– *claps* –from enjoying this moment! Go ahead!

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Monmouth: Ah! I thank you for the generosity both you and William have shown me over the last undetermined period of time, but I must leave.

William: Oh, where’re you going? I was going to plan another hunt.

Monmouth: There comes a time in every mans life where the cruel, [indecipherable] eye of destiny looks upon him! The hero of every story has his moment of action! [indecipherable] standing on the precipice of glory to see the apotheosis of my journey’s end on that glorious mountain green! Today I sail! This story shall no longer wander unguided like an orphan clinging from one vague historical anecdote to another! No! Search no longer, poor play, for you have found your hero! And that hero… it’s me. Someone has to save our England! I have a mighty army of almost one hundred men! Eighty two to be exact!

Mary: Wait, with eighty two men you’re planning to–

Monmouth: Invade England, seize the crown, depose your father, my uncle, and save England from Catholic *spits* tyranny?

Mary: You’re planning on doing this with…

Monmouth: Eighty two men! Historically, this is what I did, so yah. [indecipherable] sweet cousin, it will be a Protestant England! ALL HAIL KING BASTARD THE FIRST! CHA-CHAH! Ah! He-yaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Mary: Eighty two men can’t overthrow the king of England!

William: He’s hoping the people will rise.

Mary: What would they do to father?

William: Kill him.

Mary: Ah! Ah!

William: Okay, okay, okay! The Bastard doesn’t have any support, your father will be fine! You can have this moment; you deserve to be happy.

Mary: How? I may not like my family, but I love them. Yes, I-I deserve to be happy, but Father doesn’t deserve to die!

William: He won’t, he’ll be fine!

Mary: You can’t know that for sure.

William: I do! …I-I promise you– I-I… I promise on the life of our child that nothing will happen to your father. I’ll see to it.

Mary: You will?

William: Mmhm.

Mary: …Okay… Okay, yes, okay… I’m happy.

William: Rest. Nurse? Take my wife to her bedchamber. Make sure she doesn’t want for anything.

Mary: Ooo!

William: [indecipherable]. James?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James?! Use my full title!

William: I have grave news.

James: Oh, has France invaded you again?

William: Your nephew, the Duke of Monmouth–

James: Who?

William: …The Bastard.

James: Oh, why didn’t you say?! How is the lad?

William: He’s leading an army to depose you and take the crown for himself.

James: *laughs* You’re having a laugh! …Shit! How dare he! Doesn’t he know who I am?! I’m the king! I’m very well respected and loved– everybody loves me! *gasps* Why doesn’t he love me?! Oh, he’s just a little shit bastard, I’ll crush him! How dare he not see how awesome I am! How powerful and strong and– oh! I am so mad right now! It was a good day too, it was going really well, I had just finished telling the queen “I’m gonna make it a good one today, you know!” Ugh, I am so mad right now I’m literally shaking! *gasps* I need to eat something!

William: I hope you now see that our relationship is very…

*execution drums / exert from “March to the Scaffold” by Paul Edward*

Headsman: *giggling* For your crimes against the crown, you are sentenced to death!

James: Say hello to your father for me, boy. Any last words?

Monmouth: Fuck off!

James: How dare you! Kill the bastard!

Headsman: God save the king!

James: No one questions my authority!

Monmouth: Piss off!

James: Bastard?!

Monmouth: I have still a few [indecipherable]

James: How dare you! [indecipherable]

Headsman: Thank you. One more!

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh?

Monmouth: You are!

James: Bastard! [indecipherable] I am not a douchebag, I am the king of England!

Monmouth: Douche of England more like it!

James: Cut off his head!

Headsman: [indecipherable] does anyone want to take over, huh?

Monmouth: It takes– ugh! –and this is all true– ugh! –five blows! Ugh! King Douche II! Ugh– *splutters*

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh? Not me. I am not a douche! You hear me, Bastard?! I am not a douche! You hear me, England? I am not a douche! I am King James II! Not King Douche II! King James II! Charles didn’t respect me, and you, you didn’t respect me, but my people will. OR I’LL FUCKING MAKE THEM! They will fucking tremble in love and adoration– ohh! I want hundreds to pay for this bastard’s actions! I don’t care who they were, if they even so much as saw him walk by, they are to be executed. Churchyard trees are to be littered with corpses, the military men will be order to play in time with the twitching of their feet! And if you think that this is too much, too cruel, I’ll remind you: One, I am just being historically accurate, and two, I am the goddamn motherfucking King of England! William!

William: …your majesty.

James: Oh, I couldn’t’ve done it without you! …But I know what this is. Scared to lose a few more windmills to Louis, huh? What, you thought that you could bribe me with this little quid-pro-quo?

William: I didn’t do it for you, I did it for Mary.

James: Mary? Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this. What? You thought that I was so stupid that little nugget of information would have me on all-fours like a whipped bitch begging to do you any favor you asked? No! That little shit was nothing! I could have fought him off while wiping my ass! I owe you nothing! France may be at your borders, but England could join them just as easily! God knows Louis and I talk about it. *laughs* Tip-toe around me, William. Now, I’d like to speak to my daughter. Now!

William: Mary, could you come here, please? I have a letter for you from your father.

Mary: He’s safe! Thank you, William!

James: Mary, my eldest daughter! *laughs* You know, I fought your uncle Charles about you having to marry that–

Mary: [indecipherable] William’s wonderful, actually. Yes, I–I miss my home very much, but Holland, it’s very, very clean.

James: [indecipherable] they tell me you’re considering a Catholic baptism.

Mary: Oh, no I’m not, Father.

James: You have a responsibility to me, Mary. Biblically, I am your father and you must honor me.

Mary: Well– I do honor you.

James: Then you must obey me.

Mary: Well, honor is not obeying.

James: From King Douche II to you now?

Mary: King Douche?

James: How dare you! I am very [indecipherable] you talk back to me. I am your father and you must honor me!

Mary: Enough of this.

James: You will make the child Catholic!

Mary: Stop!

James: We all know you have no choice. You’re a prisoner.

Mary: Please…

James: [indecipherable], Mary, there’s hope in the distance!

Mary: What are you suggesting?

James: Just because you… lie with the Dutch Dog doesn’t mean you need to get its flees.

Mary: He’s my husband!

James: *laughs* William isn’t long for this world.

Mary: What are you planning?

James: Oh, come now!

Mary: What are you plann– ah! Ah!

James: *laughs* You look like him. Can’t even walk without wheezing, spits blood; your time in the tower is almost over, Mary.

Mary: He is the father of my child. William, could you come here, please?

James: *scoffs* Is he the father? Last I heard, he couldn’t perform.

Mary: You’re one to talk!

James: My performance isn’t to be questioned!

Mary: I know the rumors of the queen’s great belly!

James: [indecipherable] rumors: just a few!

Mary: Nineteen out of twenty! That’s what– ah! Ah!

James: Make the child Catholic!

Mary: *spits*

James: Your mother–

Mary: She’s not my mother!

James: No, your real mother! Remember the day she died?

Mary: Please, Father, I’m in pain! I don’t want–

James: The day she died the priest came to administer her last rites, to cleanse her soul. Without it, your mother would be damned for all eternity! Her skin would scorch, blisters would form– weeping blisters!

Mary: *voice breaking* …William?

James: A priest came… and she refused him.

Mary: William! …That’s a lie!

James: After my counseling she refused the Protestant priest. The Catholic bishop was called in and all was confessed. So, in your philosophy, Mary, is it your mother or your child who’s damned to unfathomable pain and suffering? Which is the one true faith? If you baptize that child Protestant, it means you believe it’s your mother suffering, right now as we speak. Have you ever considered hellfire, Mary? *laughs* It’s something to think about. Oh! Your new mummy’s in labour now. Got to run.

Anne: Mary– and William *scoffs*– the queen’s had a baby. It’s a boy. They’ve baptized him Catholic *spits* toldja so. But there’s something else. I have some gossip! All of London– they think it’s a changeling! They think it’s not a real child. They think she snuck a child into her bed to pass off as our brother! Oh! Papa’s going mad. Something’s going to happen. Something bad.

William: May I see it?

Betty: There’s nothing to see. ...You should go to her, William.

*dramatic music / exert from “2020” by SUUNS*

♪ And what you see is really what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ Do what you please, the thing what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ And what you see you feel ♪ ♪ Coming real, take your way ♪ ♪ All through the way… ♪

~ Intermission ~

*guitar strumming*

Chorus: ♪ Good fortune [indecipherable] William and Mary [indecipherable]-tend ♪ ♪ May glories increase and their lives never end ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] daily successes our nation may find ♪ ♪ For England [indecipherable] they both are designed ♪

Mary: William?

William: Huh?

Mary: Why is there a Greek chorus?

William: [indecipherable] chorus now.

Mary: Yes, why?

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commands and we will obey ♪ ♪ Over the hills and far away ♪

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! What story with a Greek chorus ends well?!

William: It’s just a device, Mary, it doesn’t mean–

Mary: The letter! They’re here because of the letter!

William: We received a letter?

Mary: From England. They call themselves–

Chorus: ♪ THE IMMORTAL SEVEN! ♪

Mary and William: The Immortal Seven.

Mary: Parliament has invited us to England.

William: They’ve invited us to invade England.

Mary: Why would they do that?

William: I don’t know.

Mary: We can’t invade!

Chorus: ♪ Invade you must, there’s no time to waste ♪ ♪ James is a monster! Our country defaced ♪ ♪ Blood in the streets and corpses in trees ♪ ♪ Come and put our minds at ease ♪

William: Your father is in talks to invade with Louis. Where? Here! He’s–he’s had his boy and he’s baptized him Catholic and all of England is on the brink of Civil War again!

Mary: What does that have to do with us?

William: Um, well… They want us to depose your father.

Mary: It has to be us?

William: I don’t see another alternative.

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! Is it right?

William: Right? We–we save England, we save the Netherlands, we keep Europe in balance– yes.

Mary: But is it right for a daughter to depose her father? It’s the Fifth Commandment, right? “Honor thy father!”

William: He doesn’t need to die.

Mary: Well, I know my history, William! You only depose a king by killing him. How many former kings do you see walking around?! But… He can’t invade Holland! It’s your country and you care so much for it and the people and it’s so very, very clean– Okay, yes! We should do this. But we have to do it a different way. No blood. No killing. If it’s an invasion, it has to be a bloodless invasion!

William: I don’t know…

Mary: Can you try?

William: Invade one of the most powerful countries in the world, other-throw its king, and not hurt anyone in the process?

Mary: Please?

William: …Ja.

Chorus: *gasps* ♪ What’s that you say? ♪ ♪ We prick up our ears ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] you come ♪ ♪ To end all our fears ♪ ♪ Think of what you both could be ♪ ♪ You’ll go down in history! ♪

Mary: We could, couldn’t we! Imagine all that “First Citizen” stuff here in the Netherlands– we could do that in England! You could bring all of your wonderful ideas to my country! Imagine: Freedom of religion!

William: Freedom of the press!

Mary: And no more torturing! Or bloody pomp and circumstance! And we do it bloodless! We ride into England and the people will rise with us and father will say “Oh wow, that’s what the people want!” And it’ll all work out [indecipherable] Why shouldn’t we be king and queen?! Neither one of us want the damn job so we’re the ones who should have it…

William: Would I be king?

Mary: Yes.

William: Who would you be?

Mary: The queen.

William: Right, but who’s the one in charge?

Mary: …Oh.

William: It would be you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Oh, me? No.

Chorus: *murmuring in agreement*

Mary: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! I’d rather not.

William: It’s not up to you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Ah, but you! You–you are after me!

William: Right, but you still come first.

Mary: But I don’t want to be queen– okay, wait, wait! Let me think… Okay, solution. ….We’ll… both be king and queen!

William: It does not work that way.

Mary: [spluttering] Listen! We go to England; you raise an army and depose– aw– depose father and then we say “Alright! We’re both king and queen!” What’re they gonna do, say no?

William: Joint monarchs– it would be a first.

Mary: [indecipherable] I don’t know if it’s right. God says to honor thy father, but… that doesn’t feel right.

William: We can say no, Mary.

Mary: No… You okay?

Anne: Yes, quite, sister.

Mary: Okay, good.

Anne: Stop staring at me!

Mary: Let’s keep going. And my heart says to bother you.

William: Your heart says that? What do we want to do?

Chorus: ♪ To England, to England! We sail, we sail! To England, to England! At last, at last! A tempest, a tempest! Begins, begins! And [indecipherable], and [indecipherable]! [indecipherable], [indecipherable]! ♪

Soloist: ♪ To England, we sail / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ The men are afraid ♪ ♪ There’s no debate ♪ ♪ Revolution now must wait ♪

*storm sounds*

Mary: Ahh!

William: THEY’RE CALLING IT THE CATHOLIC WIND! WE CANNOT SAIL FOR ENGLAND UNTIL IT PASSES! WE’VE ALREADY LOST A THOUSAND HORSES! WE HAVE FORTY THOUSAND MEN WAITING TO INVADE– BUT THIS WIND!!

Mary: There have been so many omens! This wind; the miscarriage! Is it a sign from God?! Can a daughter who deposes her father be a Christian?! Can doing what’s right and God’s will be at odds?!

William: WHAT?!

Mary: CAN DOING WHAT’S RIGHT AND GOD’S WILL BE AT ODDS?!

William: Oh, it is over.

Chorus: ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ William and Mary, our God has ordained ♪ ♪ Rex and Regina, this we say ♪ ♪ Sail on the future king’s birthday ♪

Mary: Wait, really?

William: Ja. It’s my birthday. The fourth. Historically, that’s just how it happened to work out.

Mary: Oh! Well, that’s a good omen, right? Happy birthday to you!

William: Yes.

Mary: William, wait! Look… I respect you. And, under normal circumstances, I would never breach this, um, unspoken agreement, but, um, it’s his birthday– ah, could we– um, uh– you know– could we do just one round of “Happy Birthday”? Um, what’s a good starting note? *hums* Is that good? *hums* Ready?

Mary, chorus, and audience: ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday dear William! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to your! ♪

*cheering*

William: This is the greatest birthday present I’ve ever received. Thank you.

Chorus: ♪ William has come and we will defend ♪ ♪ To kick out the tyrant and and then will ascend ♪ ♪ His first steps on English soil ♪ ♪ Defender of faith and [indecipherable] ♪

William: Hello? Where the hell is everyone?

Peasant: *screams* Oh, it’s [indecipherable] Day. Everyone’s busy catching cats.

William: Ah. Well, um, I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith and– wait, why are you catching cats?

Peasant: To [indecipherable] the pope.

William: Ah. Well, I am William of Orange, Defende– the pope?

Peasant: *sighs* Not the real one sadly, but yeah. [indecipherable] cats and set them on fire.

William: Why you do this?

Peasant: For God! It’s tradition! …You’re not from around here are ya, foreigner!

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolu– ♪

Peasant: [indecipherable] you are making such a racket!

William: I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith!

*cat screeches*

Peasant: [indecipherable] you scared the cat!

William: Good woman, have you not heard of our coming?

Peasant: …[indecipherable] in England?

William: I–

Peasant: [indecipherable] and whip em til their backs be bloody!! Ngyeehhhhhhhhh!!

William: *screams* I AM WILLIAM OF ORANGE! I COME FROM THE HAGUE BY INVITATION OF PARLIAMENT! Good lady! We come to overthrow King James II.

Peasant: *spits*

William: Progress. I am the [indecipherable]’s husband and myself, third in line. We come to bring stability and religious… freedom to this… country.

Peasant: Oh, you and what army?

Chorus: ♪ We are [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ Join is so you [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ James will soon be overthrown ♪

Peasant: Oh, [indecipherable], sir! I don’t have anything of worth but… I’d be proud to give you my cats.

William: *coughs*

Peasant: Oh, must be the cat smoke.

William: Oh, this air is filthy. I need a little rest.

Messenger: ♪ One man tried to poison your food ♪

Anne: ♪ Some with bullets [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ Mostly [indecipherable] ready to fight ♪

Charles: ♪ [indecipherable] horse was white! ♪

William: Let us move forward!

James: William! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!

Chorus: ♪ James was appalled by the sight that he saw ♪

James: ♪ I’ll have your head, boy, remember [indecipherable]! ♪

Chorus: ♪ Soon his generals started to fall ♪

James: ♪ Troops, make an example of him! ♪

Chorus: ♪ James’ troops then began to abandon ♪ ♪ Our glorious William now [indecipherable] ♪

James: Did you not all swear your loyalty?! You are all my subjects! *gaps* Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You must swear your loyalty to your father! It is God’s will! The Fifth Commandment! Consider the hell– *splutters* What the hell? Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ Blood from his nose ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] to God ♪ ♪ James was denied ♪ ♪ His royal throne ♪

James: No! No! What the hell?! *spluttering* The Fifth Commandment– shit! This is terribly inconvenient

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To James [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ His nose really bled ♪

James: WAIT, WHAT?!!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To France, King James ♪ ♪ Finally fleeeeeeeeeeee– ♪

James: STOP SINGING!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ –eeeeeeeedddddd ♪

James: What, is this really historically accurate?! You’re just gonna let me go, William?! HA! Coward! I will return, William, I promise you that! Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You will suffer the fait of an unfaithful daughter. This is not how my story was… suppose to be told… To France.

Chorus: ♪ William has won now that James has fled ♪

William: *prolonged violent coughing*

Chorus: ♪ London is happy! ♪ ♪ With bonfires lit ♪ ♪ Willy’s lungs can’t take the smoke ♪ ♪ And all the fog just made him choke ♪ ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commanded and now we’ve won ♪ ♪ Our new day begins with the rising of the sun! ♪ ♪ Of the sun! ♪

William: *groaning, gasping for breath*

#redlady speaks #it takes. a really long time to transcribe something #history brainrot #william iii #mary ii #the glorious revolution #charles ii #james ii #queen anne #the stuarts

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years

Note

Okay, I just got myself a tumblr account to ask for this Ikémen Vampire scenario, because the world needs this. Can you do one where the MC questions Mozart about his song "Leck mich im Arsch" (Ger. for "Kiss my ass" (lit. Lick me in the ass). I just can't imagine IkéVamp Mozart composing something like this so please be creative and do something funny. The song really exists btw. Real Mozart was a savage.

Started off serious, became trashy insults somewhere in the middle

Mozart being asked about his song “Kiss my ass” - ikevamp scenario (TW; mature language)

Thoughts are in italic

Bold AND italic is just me highlighting something

"Ugh, it hasn't even been a week and Sebastian is already burying me with work!" You mentally whined as you stretched your arms over your head. "Collect the sheets, wash the dishes, polish the shoes and wash the tablecloths..." each chore you listed made one of your fingers go up, and as the count reached ten you let out a deep sigh. You weren't even nowhere to be finished. "...ain't mama raise no weak bitch. Better get done with this before Sebastian yeets me into oblivion", you quietly spoke to yourself before going back to your full time slavery.

A lonely figure in the long corridor, you walked slightly bent forward for both the heaviness of the basket you were carrying and the mental and physical tiredness of your untrained body. As you took a turn at the end of the hallway, the lone sound of your footsteps found a companion. A sweet melody, a familiar one you had heard as a child, drifted through the air and waltzed its way to your ears. About ten meters from you there was the music room; you remembered it from Sebastian's tour of the house, but mostly because of the ever-so-friendly white haired composer that threatened you to stay kilometers away from him unless you wanted to be smacked to outer space. You had every intention of listening to him and avoiding any type of unnecessary contact with the man, but right now an irresistible curiosity pushed your feet to the prohibited door.

Was he composing something? Would he let you listen to one piece of his or play a modern-time song if you begged hard enough? somebody come git her she's dancing like a stripper If getting on your knees and throwing the last ounce of dignity you still had out of the window meant getting to witness Mozart's genius with your own two eyes --an impassable opportunity, too taunting to be ignored-- then someone better had to open up their purse and buy you some protective knee pads, 'cause ya girl was ready to crawl all around the mansion to get that P iano performance.

Inhaling some well needed air to get oxygen to your already malfunctioning brain in preparation of what was to come, you left the heavy basket full of dirty laundry and responsibilities behind and gently pushed the door open while peeking in with your head through the opening. As soon as he felt a pair of eyes on his back, Mozart abruptly stopped his magical fingers to turn to you, face contorted in an annoyed grimace.

Mozart: what.

MC: I- uh- uhm,,,, uhhhh- I... um

"Great job, chicken brain. The hero I absolutely didn't need right now"

Mozart: "I- uh- uhm,,,, uhhhh- I... um"...? I understand 15 languages and troglodyte isn't one of them. If you have nothing to say then leave.

MC: wait I-

Mozart: you didn't even knock. Are you really that impolite or did you grow up in a cave or something?

It hadn't even been 30 seconds and you had already been owned so hard not even a burnt Thanksgiving turkey could compare to this level of roasting, but there was no way in hell you were going to give up just for some edgy frail-looking man spouting some insults at you. You could probably smash him to the ground if you wanted, maybe... actually it would probably end with him snapping your neck like a twig, but at least the will to punch him was there.

You were ready to talk back with a savage comeback of your own, but before your mind could send the input to your mouth, his curt tone cut you off.

Mozart: Staring at people is a normal thing for future people? Makes me pity mankind. Get out.

...as kind as ever, the pianist! Kinda makes you want to kick him in the shins but you kept that thought to yourself.

As you were about to leave, two pair of footsteps got nearer to you from the corridor. Turning your head to the side you saw the clown duo making its way to the room, and you knew they were the ones who could provide you with the perfect chance to either succeed in your intent or bring you to a violent death.

Arthur: Oh my, what's happening in here? Is our wolfie making a move on our lovely MC before I can ask her out on a date myself?

Dazai: Good evening, Toshiko-san! Is something the matter?

And if this was your only opportunity, then you were going to use all your cards from the beginning. Mustering the best puppy eyes you could manage, you turned to the couple, and with a slightly whiny tone that resembled a half plea for help, you said:

MC: Ah, Arthur, Dazai-san! I just wanted to ask Mozart if I could listen to him playing the piano but he did nothing but be mean to me the whole time! I didn't even speak a word and he's already told me to leave twice~

Mozart: Which you didn't. So now I'm telling you a third time, leck mich. (=bug off)

Catching your subtle hint and feeling in the right mood to mess with the other fellow vampire, they decided to fan the flames of his annoyance by bringing in the discussion that one thing they knew he abhorred talking about.

Arthur: "Leck mich"? Why, Wolfie, you surprise me! You really haven't changed from your youth days, haven't you? My dear MC, did you know that the genius pianist here wrote a song called "Leck mich im Arsch"? A song about licking bums!

Dazai: Buttholes!

Arthur: Arseholes!

Dazai: Bungholes!

This was NOT the type of conversation you would've expected to have in a house full of historically important figures of such caliber, and foremost you were so close to bursting into a raging fit of laughter that only the scary aura of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was preventing you to do so. Despite the amusement you were worried the vein on his temple would explode and show you something you did not sign up for.

Mozart: Haven't I already told you not to bring that up?

Dazai: My, what a chilling smile, Wolfie-kun! Keep that up and you'll scare all the ladies away~

MC: pft——— what ladies?

Mozart: What are you laughing about, dumbass

Arthur: Woah, woah, woah! That's not the proper way to speak to a lady, Mozie! Bad wolf, bad!

Mozart: Did you take me for a dog, you four eyed caveman?

The more the snow white haired man was filled with rage, the more the situation escalated into something even more ridiculous , so much that in the midst of it you didn't even mind the recent insult.

But something was nagging you at the back of your mind. Why did someone as much as a clean freak as him write a song about licking ass? Though you realized Arthur probably gave you the literal translation just to be more direct about his bullying, you guessed it still was something pretty vulgar for someone like him. although you had to admit that the gracious idea you had of him crumbled away the second he opened his mouth

MC: I would've never expected someone like you to write such a song...

Mozart: What are you talking about?

MC: Uhm, you know, you're pretty neat, you don't let anyone touch your piano because of their 'filthy hands'... a piece about butts is a bit...

Mozart: I was still young at the time. My humor used to be different from now, people change in the span of 100 years, you know?

Arthur: Sense of humor? I wasn't aware you had one!

Mozart: Ahahah, so very funny, you stupid tratschtante (=gossip aunt)

Dazai: Maa maa (=now, now ; ara ara maa maa), I don't think the song is that out of character. After all, "licking butts" still has the idea of cleaning something, doesn't it?

Everyone: ...

Arthur: ...That was a bit too much

MC: Yeah, it was.

Mozart: Disgusting. This is why I dont like you people

MC: Wait, so can I listen to-

Mozart: Scram. All of you.

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp mozart #Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Lunchtime Disaster

A/N: A thing for mostly @philthepegacorn.

Trigger Warning: ? Bigoted bullshit that in no way reflects my own views. If you’d rather not read it, that’s what the warnings for. Don’t come bitching to me for writing it because A.) I warned you and B.) this fic largely isn’t for you 😊

Word Count: 1.5k

And away, and away we go!

You were so excited about getting ready for lunch to see your old childhood friend, that you didn’t hear the first knock on your door. Or the impatient three thumps that followed a few moments later. Or anything beyond the music blaring from your phone as you exited the bathroom and found Michael standing in your bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest. So, you did the natural thing: you screamed.

Michael’s hands went up to plug his ears while you continued to shriek, “Michael! What the fuck?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

“You should really learn to lock your door.”

“You should really learn to not barge into people’s houses!”

“I knocked for one thing. For another, you knew I was coming over today. Didn’t you?”

“I-” you faltered, your eyes wide and mind racing with your plans. Were you and Michael supposed to hang out today? How had that slipped your mind?

Michael sighed, crossing the room to sit down on your bed. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Michael, I am so sorry!” you apologized, sitting down next to him. “I must have mixed up the times, I just… Faith called me saying she’s in town, and I guess I got too excited to see her again, I forgot about any other plans I had. I’m so sorry.”

“Faith? Your high school best friend, yeah?”

“Yeah! And…” you trailed off to check the time on your phone. “I really need to leave before I’m late meeting her. But I will call you when I’m done, and we can hang out after? It’s just lunch, it shouldn’t take too long,” you tried to make amends as you got up, grabbing your bag.

“Lunch? I like lunch. Any activities that involve eating really.”

You laughed, pausing in the doorway. “You wanna come with?”

Michael grinned as he got up and skipped over to you, interlinking his arm with yours. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Michael listened to you chatter away about how excited you were to see Faith again on the short drive over to the restaurant. About how she had been your best friend growing up and stupid college and time made the two of you grow distant. “Oh, I’m so excited!” you said for the millionth time as you pulled into a parking space. In addition to getting to see Faith in you didn’t know how long, you also had some news you wanted to share with her.

“I can tell,” Michael teased you.

You smacked his arm, giggling as you did so. “Fuck you. You didn’t have to come.”

“And do what with my day instead? Not eat?” he asked as you both got out of your car.

“Is that the only reason you came with me? To get food?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the only reason. But definitely like 90 percent. The other 10 is because I’m your new best friend, and Faith is your old best friend. So I should probably meet her.”

“Who said you were my best friend?”

He staggered dramatically as he pulled open the door. “The guys warned me. They said ‘Mike, watch out for Y/N, she’s only your friend to get close to the dogs’ but I told them they were crazy. Turns out they were right all along. I’m wounded. Truly.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, scanning the restaurant, spotting Faith at a table. “Oh, there she is! Faith!” you waved.

The woman turned her head to the sound, spotting you and smiling brightly. “Y/N!” she called out, waving you over.

The two of you crashed into each other for a tight hug as you both let out a small squeal of glee at being reunited, Michael standing awkwardly just a step behind you. He cleared his throat when he thought the greeting had gone on long enough. Faith peeled herself off of you to look up at him. “Oh? And who are you?”

“Faith, this is Michael. Michael, this is Faith,” you introduced.

“Oh?” Faith asked again with a slight lilt that came from wanting to ask if you were just friends or more without directly asking.

“Just a friend,” Michael clarified, understanding what wasn’t being said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Faith smiled at him.

As lunch started, and you and Faith started up a conversation, you began to wonder like you often did how the two of you had drifted apart. What with endless ways of staying connected, it was crazy to you that you hadn’t stayed in better touch. But after she came back from excusing herself to the restroom, you quickly remembered why. “What’s up?” you questioned, noticing her face pinched in disgust.

“It was a fuckin’ gender neutral bathroom…”

“That’s probably really helpful for single parents,” Michael commented offhandedly.

Faith shot him a look. “Yeah, but like make a single use family restroom for them then. Don’t make the existing bathrooms gender neutral. That’s gross…”

Michael pulled a small face, but shook his head and went back to his food. “Okay…” he muttered under his breath.

You, however, didn’t show as much restraint. “What’s so gross about gender neutral restrooms? It’s a restroom.”

“Yeah, but…” Faith looked around before leaning across the table and talking in a hushed voice. “This is how it starts.”

“How what starts?”

“The bending over backwards to make everyone feel safe. It’s a bunch of shit. There’s already equality with there being a men’s restroom, and a women’s restroom.”

“Which is great. For those who identify that way.”

Faith snorted. “As if there’s any other way to identify.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire with the level of rage boiling inside you. You definitely weren’t going to tell her your news now. “Well… It’s like Mike said. It’s great for single parents to have access to gender neutral restrooms.”

“Oh, I bet. But you could just make a separate restroom for that. But for everyone else? Just pick a restroom.”

“I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Oh sure it is! Either you’re a boy, or you’re a girl.”

“But there are people who identify as both…”

Faith snorted again. “Please. That’s almost as bad as bisexuals. It’s an excuse not to make a choice, really. Or a way to be cool. Because bottom line, end of the day, you’re one, or the other.”

“Interesting…”

“What? You think I’m wrong?”

“I think…” you said, keeping your voice tightly controlled, “that your viewpoint is a closed-minded one.”

“Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. This one just happens to be mine.”

“That it is.”

“Anyway!” Faith decided before launching into a new story, but you couldn’t focus on anything beyond the gnawing feeling in your stomach. When the time came for the three of you to leave, you could almost weep with relief.

“I’m not sure I like your friend so much,” Michael murmured once you were safely tucked away in your car, and Faith in hers.

You let out a loud laugh. Then kept laughing until it turned into sobs, your body heaving as you hunched over your steering wheel. Michael’s hand reached over to gently rub up and down your back. “It’s alright,” he soothed, not quite sure of what else to do.

“No it’s not!” you blubbered, adjusting just enough to look at him, tear tracks down your face. “She hates me!”

“How does her being a bigot translate to her hating you, exactly?”

“She hates people like me, Mike!” you continued to wail, your tears now leaving wet spots on his shirt as you clung to him for dear life.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him. “Hey, slow down. What are you talking about? People like you? Are you…?” he let the question hang in the air.

“Bi? Yes,” you hiccuped.

“No, I knew that. I meant your identity.”

“Yes, I’m non-binary…” The confession fell from your lips, and while the word flooded you relief at finally saying it to someone else, Faith had tainted the experience even though she wasn’t here to witness it. “And now you hate me too, don’t you?”

“Aw, c’mon Y/N. I could never hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I love you too much to ever hate you.”

That shocked you enough to choke on the next cry. “You… what?”

“I-” Michael stumbled, his face bright red. “I meant like as friends I love you.”

“Oh…”

“I mean… I’m in love with you too. But I was kinda saving that confession for another time. When you’re less… distraught.”

You looked up at him with your eyes puffy and red from crying, the tears making your lashes stick together. “You’re in love with me?” you whispered.

He chuckled softly as his thumbs brushed away the tears still on your face. “Of course I’m in love with you. Why wouldn’t I be? And no, I don’t care if you’re in love with me back. I mean… I do. But it’s not gonna change anything for me if you don’t. Because you’re you. And there’s nothing you can do, or be, that would make me not love you.”

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @tarltongrl96 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez

#lunchtime disaster #michael clifford #michael clifford fic #michael clifford x reader #5sos #calpal irwin

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Photo

Discredit Part Three! (Click on each pic for something resembling quality!)

Part One---contains translations, podfic, and related works---Part Two

Tagging, credit, and transcript all below the cut 💜

First off, people who specifically asked to see more of this nonsense may God in all Her glory bless you accordingly:

@internet-or-sleep, @just-some-girl-on-the-internet, @readytoocomply, @vocallsama, @fellowshipofthegay, @lucky-leafeon, @alph4centauri, @sumoranges, @diaphanedreams

Aziraphale’s profile pic is courtesy of good old Neil, found here. All others are from Creative Commons.

Sorry it took so long to produce more stupidity. YOU ALL ROCK 🎊🎊🎊 Here, have a messy transcript.

Abdou G.

Have you ever walked in on a conversation and, despite clearly missing the majority of it, feel like you could reconstruct it, word for word if necessary? That happened at Fell’s today. The ‘talk’ had obviously been going on for a while, but I can give you a perfect summary here: rude fuckboy thinks he gets to say who God is, Fell was having none of it.

Best response? Turn around, walk back to your apartment (pro-tip: this only works if you’re just a few blocks away), and change your shirt. I walked back in with my I MET GOD, SHE’S BLACK tee and had the pleasure of seeing Fell do a double-take.

“Yes, thank you, that’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

***

Doug E.

Scout’s honor: I once saw that Crowley dude unhinge his jaw and eat a large pizza in one goddamn bite.

Update: you heathens read about this gay abomination with his dislocated jaw and what you decide to question is whether I was acTUALLY A SCOUT?

***

Mary L.

I came in with my four-year-old last week fully intending to keep him within sight at all times. Yes, I bought one of those kiddie leashes and no, I don’t regret a thing. You try holding down two jobs as a single mom to the bonefide antichrist. I love my boy, but the devil got to him, telling him things like, “Yes, Freddie, permanent marker would look just great on Mum’s only work jacket!”

I said as much to the owner because this mom needs to vent sometimes.

I wish I could give this place a higher rating, but the ownership is frankly terrible. Inconsistent hours, no help when you’re trying to find a book, just basically all around bad customer service, BUT it still gets five stars because when I told the guy I was raising the antichrist?

“Oh yes. I did that myself not too long ago!”

We parents need to support one another. Otherwise the world is going to burn. So here’s a good review for you, Mr. Bookshop Guy. A part of me hopes you’re a better dad than you are a bookseller. The other part? The bigger part? It’s very aware that Ms. Pot here just met Mr. Kettle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Freddie just got into the flour.

***

Alfred B.

I hereby nominate Mr. Fell as the British Steve Irwin. I’ve never seen anyone handle a red bellied black snake like that. I mean yeah, they’re a chill species overall, but there’s a difference between casually handling a snake and fucking chucking one onto the chair because it’s in your way. (Okay. Maybe Irwin was a little nicer.)

Renee K.

whos steve irwin?

Alfred B.

...How old are you?

Renee K.

Alfred B.

You existed on this planet for two years with him and you dare to ask me this? Go boil your head and then use google. Good god.

***

Mark F.

overheard the owner telling his boyfriend that last they met his brother tried to set him on fire? and succeeded?? actually now that I think about it, not sure which brother they were talking about---his brother or boyfriend’s brother--but WHOEVER has the brother needs to... i don’t even know. do something about that? ring the police or go to therapy or SOMETHING. i mean maybe they already have, i’m just an eavesdropping tourist, but the idea of someone setting that bow-tie cutie on fire—DID I MENTION THAT? PERSON ARSON. MURDER—makes my blood boil

***

Shiefa N.

People aren’t joking about overhearing weird conversations here. I walked in on two men (owner and husband? owner and escort?) debating Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know, that stupid kissing game the better looking kids got to play in middle school. It got pretty heated at one point (pun not intended), arguing about whether seven minutes of making out was divine or damning behavior. I hung out long enough to catch the segue into a lust vs. love debate and then had to skedaddle. Nice couple. I support their weird flirting habits.

***

Chang Z.

Is it legal to visit a store for things other then what it sells? I realize that makes me sound druggie or something but I swear I’m dealing with a much healthier addiction. (Ha. Maybe.) I cosplay (yeah, yeah, move along, trolls) and Mr. Fell has an absolute wealth of historical clothing. It’s astounding! I thought they were particularly detailed costumes at first, but no. I’m majoring in Textile and Apparel Studies. I know a naturally worn piece of fabric when I see it. Mr. Fell is always cracking jokes about how he wore this frock in the 19th century, this shirt in the 17th, oh don’t you just love my old vest? (He has... so many vests...) I indulge him because anyone who lets me borrow this stuff for free deserves all my attention and fake laughter.

Yeah. You read right. Artifacts borrowed for free. He’s even let me alter some of the stuff because I’m not exactly his size. Should this stuff be in a museum somewhere? Probably. Am I calling anyone to take my personal cosplay supply away? Noooope.

***

Leah M.

Helping to spread the word here because I’m not sure how much foot traffic this place actually gets.

I pass Fell’s every morning on my way to work and yesterday there was a new sign in the window. This might not seem very interesting to most people on here, but you’ve got to understand that Fell’s never changes. None of it. I’ve lived in Soho since I was a boy and this place has always had the same placard with his insane times listed, same stripped paint on the door he’s never gotten around to fixing, same spiderweb in the corner I absolutely swear. My dad used to pop in there when he was in college and I swear he’s taken me through the stacks, points out books that haven’t moved in 30+ years. It’s nuts and more than a little bit impressive.

So you can imagine my shock when I passed by and saw not one, but four new papers in the front window. They’re drawings and I recommend going and taking a look for yourself. I don’t think I can accurately describe the utter chaos of crayons and glitter that’s displayed there, let alone what it’s trying to depict. A dystopia? The end of the world? If so the apocalypse features a surprising number of dogs.

There’s a fifth paper off to the side, written in Fell’s messy penmanship. It just says, “My god-children drew these!” and if that’s not the cutest things you’ve ever heard get out of my face.

***

Gabriel A.

azirfell

alzaphral

azzzzzirafal

i’m a litttle drunk but azifjkaafha’s place is good he just needs a name easier to spell

***

Aziraphale

Dear Gabriel A,

My partner Crowley told me about this site and the many lovely well-wishes you all have left us here. I have come to express my thanks and to offer a bit of advice. You are hardly the first person to struggle with my name, dear girl! I recommend the following three step process:

A - simple, yes? + zira - a nickname I’ve adopted over the years, easy enough to recall + phale - this is admittedly more difficult as our ending, “phale,” is neither spelled in a way nor presumed to be pronounced like the “fell” sound we end up with. In truth my name is more along the lines of Azz-ear-raf-AE-el, but change is inevitable and you needn’t hear about that transformation, nor the etymology involved in getting “fell” out of “phale.” I say this not because I don’t wish to teach you, but because my partner has reminded me--in a rather rude tone I should add--that this site has a word limit. Suffice to say you should simply memorize the “phale” portion and you shall be, as the expression goes, in tip top shape!

Best regards,

Aziraphale

P.S. Nothing personal, dear boy, but I fear I’m not terribly fond of your name either. I would highly recommend changing it if you’re ever of a mind to do so. Cheerio!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #long post #good omens fic #(apologies for that)#(tried for text post and the quality was totally unreadable)#pgnbri #attempting to tag you here #since tumblr won't let me do it in the post :/

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craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

Text

A is for Arrival...?

Summary: Remus and Janus are shopping ready for the new arrival for their family.

Note: The start of an AU and series because I’m just a sucker for any type of familiar sides. Romantic Demus and Royality.

Next Part: B is for Baby Time

“Hey Jay?” Remus suddenly stopped; his eyes enormous.

“Yes, dear?” Janus put on a dramatic Victorian tone, his spine straightening with his hand frozen poised with the packet of washing up sponges.

“Do we need to get birthday stuff?” Janus immediately scrunched his face, “No wait! Listen. You celebrate your kid’s birthday every year so surely you celebrate his first ever one ever. Right?”

Janus stared into the distance as he dropped the sponges on the floor, “Call your brother.”

“No,” Remus whined but still pulled up his phone and promptly shoved it into Janus’ chest, “He’ll only make fun of me if I ask it. If you ask it, then maybe he’ll presume he’s the stupid!”

“Did he celebrate Logan’s first ever ever birthday? What would you even call it? First day of existence?” Janus frowned as he speed dialled the number.

“If he did, he didn’t invite me!” Remus shrugged before picking up the sponges. He immediately crowded into Janus and smooshed himself into his shoulder.

They picked up on the second ring, Patton’s sigh answering. Something that they probably weren’t supposed to hear. “Hello Roman. We just have a quick question,” Janus chirped.

“Hey Janus. It’s Patton by the way. Wow, another question, huh?” Patton, meanwhile, gave Roman a stern look and thrusted the phone at him again. Roman pulled a face as he shrugged and ducked back down behind the sofa. Frowning, he put it on speaker so they could both suffer, “What did you want to ask?”

“Should we celebrate our baby’s first ever day? Like a birthday but for their very very first birthday?”

“What!” Roman shrieked before leaping back on to the sofa; ever so suddenly finding the strength to talk.

“What do you mean ‘what’! God, he’s such a douche,” Remus muttered.

“I’m a douche, oh am I? Why would you celebrate a baby’s first ever day. It’s their first ever day in this world! They get overwhelmed and scared so easily. It’s a big scary world out there and you’re going to shove a party in their face! The baby is barely old enough to move it’s own hands! It’s a baby!” Roman complained while Patton giggled.

“To treat this seriously for a second, when you finally get your baby, the very last thing you want to do is mess around too much. After all this time, all that waiting, you finally get this tiny fragile baby. A tiny itty bitty baby. All you’ll want to do is just sit there and watch them quietly. A party is the last thing you’ll think to do. Heh, me and Roman even forgot to eat that day and only remembered hours later,” Patton spoke softly with his own memories uplifting his annoyance. Roman smiled and knocked their shoulders together.

“...So is it worth buying like finger food in case we forget to eat?” Remus interrupted.

“Uh... yeah? I mean, yeah that would work,” Roman fumbled.

“Okay. Cheers. Bye!” Remus called out while Janus rolled his eyes, “Wow. We really need to get them something for putting up with all this.”

“Well I’m going to keep talking to them, you weirdo.” Janus ran his hand through Remus’ crazed curls but he was quickly shrugged off as Remus went to evaluate which bleach was best for their toilet, “How are you two?”

“Yeah, all’s good here! Just your typical day, what are you doing?” Patton chirped.

“Baby shopping mixed with some normal shopping. Extremely exciting, I’m sure you’re jealous,” Janus felt his voice go soft at just the mere mention of his coming baby.

“Aww! That’s so sweet,” Patton sighed, “I miss that so much about Logie. Baby clothes shopping is the only reason worth becoming a dad.”

“Oh Pat! Such slander, I’m impressed,” Janus laughed.

“Oh hush! Everyone knows that baby clothes are the best cutest things in existence. Aw, are you going to buy Halloween clothes! Me and Roman saw some adorable skeleton onesies today and I came this close to buying it for the baby.”

“Yeah, I think at this point we’ve bought him more Halloween clothes than normal baby stuff. That’s the whole reason we still have to do some shopping. There were these pumpkin shoes and socks. Oh Pat! I swear if I wasn’t so macho and cool, I would’ve cried. Baby shoes are just so tiny!” Remus raised a brow at his squealing voice. But then he also knew exactly what Janus was talking about just from his tone alone. Those shoes were actually pretty cute.

“They are right! Aw, do you know any more about the baby?”

“Well...” Janus drawled while Remus took a breath. They agreed that Janus was going to deal with this breaking news.

“We met up with the mother yesterday.”

“Oh! My! Oh! Oh, Jayjay! That’s amazing! How was she?” Remus quickly snatched the phone and flicked it to speaker. Janus raised a brow at him but he was only met with the most mischievous smirk back. He frowned but turned back to continue talking only now with Patton’s voice squeaking out across the aisle.

“She looked exhausted. I felt so bad for her. Meeting up for a coffee looked like the very last thing she wanted to do,” Remus said.

“Bless her,” Janus sighed, “She was lovely.”

“Aw, that’s good. We never really got to meet our surrogate, how come yours wanted to meet?”

“Well, she apparently had a bit of a health scare. All is good! Everything is all good! But she just wanted to sit down with us and actually go through everything that happened. So we sat and talked about the health of the baby. Again, all is good obviously. But... so... we may or may not have found out our baby’s gender,” Janus winced once the squeal erupted over the phone. Remus cackled at the amount of people who turned to look at them with dirty looks before he turned the speaker off again. Ah, yes wouldn’t be a trip to the shops if Remus couldn’t spread some mild chaos.

“What’s their gender!” Patton screamed before launching up from the sofa. Roman was giggling as Patton jumped up and down and spun him around.

“We’re having a boy!” Janus smiled. He would deny the glow in his chest for this rest of his life but he couldn’t help but grab Remus’ hand. Remus smiled, thankfully, and squeezed his hand with his own lovesick smile. Their baby boy.

“Oh a boy!” Patton squealed high enough for dogs.

“Typical, not one girl in this entire family,” Roman chuckled.

“Oh congrats guys! When’s the due date again?” Patton sighed.

“10th of December. I almost feel bad for the boy. He’s going to have to put up with the whole Christmas birthday combination.”

“I’m still upset that he wasn’t a Halloween baby,” Remus frowned.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Janus finally hung up. They were still holding hands- they would look exactly like a couple from a lovey film if they actually dressed like normal people rather than Disney villains. All they needed to do now grab was some more normal baby outfits. A very simple easy task. Just look at some clothes and chose some cute functional clothes.

But every single time... every single time, they would find the most abnormal baby outfits possible. That and they always spent a good ten solid minutes of staring at the tiny shoes. They looked like build-a-bear shoes. They didn’t even look real.

“I can’t wait until he arrives,” Remus mumbled as he picked up a hideous orange dinosaur patterned jumper set. Janus tried to hide the smile but he quickly placed his head on his shoulder as they stood there.

“Neither can I. He can’t come soon enough. Just like how you can’t put back that gross set soon enough.”

“You don’t like it! I think it’s cute.” Remus tilted his head as if that made it cuter.

“He’s so not going to be an orange baby.”

“You don’t know that! Does he even need a colour?”

“You’ve got green, I like yellow. He also needs a colour. While we can still have control over what he wears at least,” Janus stated like Remus was a toddler trying to argue that the sky was green.

“So we both have our ugly colours. Then he also needs an ugly colour too! Orange is a disgusting colour!” Remus thrusted the jumper in his face.

“Oh totally exactly, dear,” Janus rolled his eyes before he then felt the passion erupt from him, “Okay. Firstly, for your information, yellow is a beautiful colour thank you very much. You’re the one that chose the grossest colour of green to embrace. He can have purple,” Janus winced as he guided Remus’ hand back down to the shelf.

“Purple?”

“Yes. A beautiful colour. Not only does it screw over superfluous ridiculous gender roles, it also is close enough to match our dress senses,” Janus stated with a proud look. Remus opened his mouth but then snapping it shut with a respectful nod. Yep, that sounded like a plan.

They eventually found some normal tiny eeny weeny pair of jeans and they used all of their collective strength to stay clear of all the Halloween clothes and bought some presentable jumpers. Janus was finally starting to get fed up with standing around in a shop before he realised that Remus’ eyes kept flicking to a shelf behind them.

He never made any move to actually go look at whatever it was and he never mentioned it. Janus found every reason to keep looking at the same pairs of stripey socks to give him time but he still said nothing. It was so uncommon that Remus felt shy about suggesting something. What could be the harm? “What you looking at?” Janus asked while exaggeratedly turning around.

“Um... I just noticed...” Remus drawled off. It was just a discount shelf. It was stacked with just random broken items that clearly no one ever take any interest in. Remus shyly sulked up to it and pushed aside the chipped mugs and torn notebooks without any hesitation. He pulled up a baby blanket.

It was the exact same incredibly soft material all baby stuff was made from. The stuff where your hand magnetised to its softness. It was a quilted baby blanket in a pastel lilac. It was cute but it wouldn’t be on a discounted shelf without reason. There was a large smudge of black marker on its corner. But as Remus held it up, Janus laughed. It wasn’t quilted. It was sewn to be a spider web pattern around the blanket. Clearly an old Halloween gimmick.

He turned to ask if Remus was all ready to go then and was immediately punched in the stomach. Remus was all teary eyed and awkwardly looking anywhere but him. His fingers brushed through the blanket over and over again.

“Oh Reem,” Janus cooed and tugged the blanket from his grasp but he didn’t let go.

“I don’t even know why I’m tearing up!” Remus pressed his arms against his face. Janus felt himself tearing up as well. Something about how Remus’ voice would go all wobbly and pitchy when he was on the edge of tears just always got to him, “Just... oh this is so fucking stupid.”

“Well you’ve got us both crying in a shop at 9 in the morning. I’d say it sounds pretty dumb,” Janus smiled.

“Just... he could be our little spider. Just like how I’m your octopus and you’re my snake,” Remus’ voice was practically crumbling away. Janus felt a disgusting childish tear slip down his face.

“Oh Reem.” Janus hugged him, only so he didn’t have to experience the embarrassment of people seeing his husband’s gross taste in blankets of course.

“How much spider stuff have we bought him! Like that would be perfect. And this is purple and spider!” Remus felt a tear escape his control too but he just buried his nose in Janus’ hair.

“Oh you are such a nightmare of a husband. I’m taking you back to the husband shop and refunding you,” Janus groaned, he broke away and snatched the blanket from his grasp and shoved it into their trolley. At least it was cheap. Plus they would probably end up staining it with gross new born baby vomit anyway.

#My writing #sanders sides #deceit sanders #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #fluffy #fanfic #roman sanders #patton sanders #demus #royality

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Temporary Love - Jess Mariano

A/N: Because I love Jess and I’ve been reading some Beats lately. Based on the song ‘Temporary Love’ by Ben Platt.

///

“Dear god, this is abhorrent.” You tossed the book across the desk to where Jess was sitting, revising the last few chapters of his latest novel.

“What did you get a dictionary for Christmas?” He joked, grabbing the book to see what you were reading. It was his Grove Press first edition of The Subterraneans. You’d gifted it to him for Christmas but now it was February and he had yet to get the opportunity to read it.

“You’re hilarious Jess.” You mocked, “it’s like pulling teeth. Has he never heard of a punctuation mark?”

“You say that like you didn’t read the edited and original scroll versions of On the Road back to back.” He remarked, tossing the book back to you before he could get sucked into reading. There was a lot of editing to be done on his own novel before he could think of picking up someone else’s.

“I was reading the Beats, what was I supposed to do, ignore On the Road?”

“Have you read Matt’s latest, he’s trying to stylise himself that way.” Jess mentioned.

“Not surprising. I think he’s hoping a counter-culture revolution will happen right here in Philly.” You replied, pulling papers out of your backpack. You had essays to grade and had only come by to bother your fiancé about the impending trip home to Connecticut. Which you had yet to do.

“Don’t be so cynical. It could happen.”

“Says the king of cynicism.”

“Ouch,” he laughed, grabbing at his chest, “you’ve really wounded me.”

“So,” you began to prepare to change the subject, almost laughing out loud when Jess put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, appraising you. It was a wonder that he could always tell you were about to say something he wasn’t particularly on board with hearing, “about the trip.”

“What about it?” He had asked you to go up with him for a visit to his uncle’s. He had mentioned to Luke that he was engaged and he wanted his uncle and you to meet. Though there was the matter of returning to Stars Hallow and Rory and Lorelai and everything else that small town Connecticut life had been.

“Well, you’ve been pretty evasive since you mentioned it.”

“What’s evasive about, ‘come home with me’?” Jess asked, refocusing on the manuscript in front of him.

“For starters, you’ve told me nothing about the town. Just that we leave on Friday and we’ll be back on Thursday.” You replied.

“That’s all you need to know.”

“Jess.” You reached across the desk and grabbed the pen from his hand. “Should I expect like a firing squad when I get in there or something?” You had no idea what to expect but you had read his first book and knew plenty about the girl and the life behind the inspiration. He had been still in love with Rory when he met you and that had been fine because you weren’t looking for a relationship. Now you were engaged though and despite the title and the ring on your finger there was still that feeling the bubbled up in your chest whenever you thought of the infamous Rory Gilmore. A stupid fleeting feeling that you wanted nothing to do with but one that existed nonetheless.

“You certainly are feeling dramatic tonight aren’t you?” He joked.

“I’m not being dramatic I’m just wondering...like? I haven’t met anyone from there before.” You replied.

“No one there matters aside from Luke.”

“Okay.”

You took the manuscript pages that Jess had already worked through, grabbing Matt’s green pen from his coffee mug and beginning to read. Your annotations were less grammatical corrections and more comments about things you liked or didn’t. You questioned subplots that felt messy and complimented his writing when you especially loved a part. Jess looked over the desk at you fondly.

There was a lot you already knew about his family but there were gaps in his stories, moments that he didn’t talk about. Sure, you had read his first book and you knew about Rory but not enough to really know her. It was like looking at a silhouette sometimes, you had the shape and the idea but nothing concrete. It didn’t implore the anxiety in you that you thought it would, that you sometimes felt it should. When you had first read the infamous book you weren’t dating and it didn’t matter to you that he seemed still so in love with this small town girl. When you reread it, later into the relationship, you expected that it would feel different but it didn’t. It felt just as beautiful as the first time, more so because you knew Jess so intimately now.

“Are you really worried about going to Stars Hallow?” Jess asked, breaking you from the rough draft of his book.

“No,” you shook your head, “I just feel like I should be.”

“Yeah, cause that makes sense.”

“I know I should be totally weirded out about going up there but I'm honestly okay with it. Kind of excited, honestly.” You mentioned. Truthfully you were excited. A peek into your boyfriend’s life before he was your boyfriend. “I’m not worried, I just wanna know something about it.”

“It’s small.” He replied.

“Wow, thank you. That really helps me.”

“Google it.”

“Jess,” you slumped back into your seat and groaned. He was going to be annoying about this trip, you knew that, and still you were surprised by it.

“There’s nothing special about it.”

“Except that it was your home for a significant few years.”

Jess nodded slowly. “What do you want me to tell you? Certainly wasn’t the worst time I ever had but it was no paradise either.”

“Well no, that’s living with me.” You gloated, smiling when the stoic editing face broke and he laughed.

“Oh yeah? I think that depends on your annotations.”

You shuffled the papers you were reading through into a stack and sat them on your lap, away from Jess. “You’ll see them when I’m finished.”

He watched you lean back in the chair again, papers on your lap as you read through the last pages of his most recent work. You chewed at the end of the red pen you had swiped of Matt’s desk and pulled the sleeves of your Venice Beach tourist sweatshirt down on your hands further. You had gotten it over Christmas, when the two of you had taken a roadtrip out to see his dad, Sasha, and Lily. You’d spent a glorious week getting to know every stray dog that hung around their bungalow and going to the beach. He had proposed on the last day there, rather spontaneously.

“I like this edit to chapter 10,” you mentioned, thumbing through the pages you had already put down so that you reread chapter 10 again now that you had decided you liked it.

“Thank god.” Jess replied, rolling his eyes. It sounded sarcastic but you knew better, a quick glance up found a soft, barely there smile on his face.

When he had met you he was still under the impression that no one would ever mean as much to him as Rory had. He was convinced that she was his one great love and no amount of other girlfriends or dates could change his mind about it. And then somewhere along the way you had weaseled yourself into his life so subtly and wonderfully Rory was just a memory. A great love, a first love, by not you. Not a best friend and a lover. She wasn’t the person he imagined making a life with anymore. You had filled that space, had taken up the room that Rory had left.

“I’m excited to meet Luke,” you said, eyes on the papers as you added comments and underlined favorite bits.

“It’s not a big deal.” Even though he said it both of you knew it wasn’t true. Luke had made a huge impact in his life and he cared about his uncle’s opinion. Even if he thought he hadn’t when he was younger he wasn’t that seventeen year old boy anymore trying to pretend he was cool. He knew who he was and who Luke was to him and he respected Luke. He wanted you and Luke to get along. To like each other.

“It is.” You replied, “will Liz be there?”

“I can’t stop her.”

“Hey, I love your mom, she’s so sweet.”

He hummed and nodded his head.

“Jess.”

“Yeah?” He asked, looking up at you. You were sitting there with your hands clasped over the papers, smiling at him.

“I love you.”

He ducked his head and smiled before looking back up at you, “love you too.”

Has anyone ever not been Team Jess? I’m rewatching now and sorry, he’s my favorite emotionally unavailable problematic boyfriend.

#jess mariano x reader #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano fanfic #jess mariano fanfiction #Gilmore girls imagine #Gilmore girls fanfic #Gilmore girls fanfiction #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

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afictionaladventure16 · 4 years

Text

Remember Me (Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader)

Chapter 12

Remember Me Masterlist

Previously on Remember Me...

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares

Word Count: 2,461

A/N: We’re coming close to the end of the line...

Thanks to @rae-is-typing for editing this for me! ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BUCKY!!! I feel like this chapter sucked...

Bucky and Natasha walked down the hall, Roger waited until they were on the elevator to close the door.

“It’s Zemo,” you say as soon as Roger closed the door. You walked over to him, handing him the phone.

Roger gave you a small glance before taking the phone from your hand. “Yeah?”

“It’s time for the pet to play.”

Roger glanced over at you, he quickly noticed you fidgeting with the ends of your sleeves. A sign that you were nervous. “She’s not ready.” He tried his best to put on a brave face, but deep down inside he was falling apart.

“She’s ready when I say she’s ready,” Zemo snarled. “Make sure she’s at the base by 0500 hours.” Zemo hung up the phone. Roger felt his heart grow anxious, he thought he had more time before Zemo had you go out into the field to use you for your powers. Roger couldn’t just run away with you now, no, it would be reckless. Zemo would have his dogs on him within seconds. He would have to play this out by ear.

“What did he want?” you timidly asked.

“You should get some rest,” Roger walked over to the counter. “I’ll clean up. Just go get some rest.”

“But-”

“You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow,” Roger interrupted, his voice louder than you expected it to be, causing you to flinch slightly.

You knew that Roger would never lay a hand on you, but the anger in his voice, the way it shook with every word frightened you. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, he drew deep breaths as he closed his eyes. A young assassin afraid? Sadly, yes. Zemo had tortured you so many times, you were afraid of the rage you saw in Roger’s eyes, you did not dare to question him.

You began to make your way towards the hall, “JJ?” You glanced over at Roger who had his eyes on you. He let out a sigh, he could see the pain in your eyes, the despair they carried. He wanted so badly to free you from Zemo’s chains but he wasn’t capable just yet, but Roger knew, he would die if it came to it. “Goodnight,” he softly said, giving you a soft smile.

Returning the smile, you made your way down the hall and into your room. Roger made you feel safe, even with his sudden outbursts, you knew he was different than the others. It didn’t take you long to get ready for bed, once your head hits the pillow, you were out like a light.

The roaring of the thunder deafened your ears. You frantically looked around, spotting a man running through the forest. He carried a small child in his arms. You could hear the sticks and leaves crunching beneath their feet, it sounded so clear to you, their hand resting behind the young child's head. You began to run towards them, noticing the small child was a little girl, her eyes squeezed shut as she held onto the man with her dear life. Why were they running?

“Bucky!” You heard a woman yell in the distance. Bucky? You know that name.

The man stopped in his tracks, you could hear them panting as their head whipped around, looking for the voice that was heard through the trees. His eyes landed on you, but he didn’t seem to react. It was as if he were looking through you. You looked behind yourself to see if anyone was there but all you could see was trees on end. You looked back over to the man, taking in his features as you stepped closer. Bucky. Wait. BUCKY. What was he doing here? Why was he carrying you? What’s going on? “Nat!?” Bucky yelled.

Nat. You knew who it was, but you didn’t know them as Nat. No, you heard the name Nat but in your mind knew them as Mama.

Bucky placed the young girl on the ground, “Natasha!?” He yelled out once again, he held onto her hand.

“Papa?” She asked softly as she tugged on his hand. “Papa, I’m scared.”

You were a few feet away from Bucky and the young girl. The young girl that must be Bucky and Nat’s daughter, the one they lost, but why were they in your dream? If this was even a dream. It sure didn’t feel like one.

“I know, baby doll,” he said softly as he knelt beside the young girl. Baby doll. Why did that term of endearment give you so much emotion?

“Bucky, Run!” You heard Nat yell. A loud bang followed, and within a second, Bucky picked the young girl up and began running again. You turned around and noticed men running towards Bucky.

Turning back toward Bucky, noticing the army of men surrounding them, creating a circle around the father and his daughter. Noticing a couple of men dragging Natasha towards the front of the circle.

“Nat,” Bucky whispered. Pain panged his face, you knew that the family wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation. Bucky glanced towards the young girl, placing a soft kiss on the top of her before whispering something you couldn’t quite catch, into her ear.

The young girl began to shake her head, “Papa, n-”

“Shhh,” Bucky rubbed her back. “I promise,” he said softly. You were close enough to notice the tears beginning to form in Bucky’s eyes. “I love you, fiica mea.”

“I love you, Papa.”

Bucky then glanced over at Natasha, tears streaming down her face, “I’m the one you guys want, just take me! Leave them be!” She pleaded with the man in charge.

He scoffed, “the Winter Soldier and the Black Widow. Two valuable assets. One for the KGB and one for Hydra. Fell in love and had a child of their own, a child that could show potential.”

Bucky snarled at the man as he grew closer to them. “She’s off-limits,” he snapped, holding the young girl tighter.

The man smirked, glancing around. “Don’t you see, Soldat? You’re surrounded. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.” He then cleared his throat. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Romanoff will go back to the KGB, finish her training whereas our Soldat will come back to our Hydra base, where he will be rid of these dreadful memories that you,” he pointed towards Natasha. “And your little pest,” he glanced over at Bucky as he tightly held onto his daughter, “ever existed.” The couple stayed silent, Bucky tried his best to quickly think of a plan. “Grab the child,” the man ordered.

“NO!” Bucky yelled as he backed away from the men that began charging towards him.

“Don’t make me do this, Soldat.”

“I won’t let you take her!” Bucky yelled as he dodged the men.

“страстное желание” (Longing)

“NO!” Bucky felt something inside him begin to stir. You watched from the side as Bucky fell onto his knees, you wanted to run over and help him but you knew it was no use. You were just an observer.

“Bucky!” Natasha yelled.

“Ржавые,” (Rusted) The man continued.

“I-I’m sorry, Nat,” He uttered as he let go of the young girl.

“Papa!” She yelled as one of the men picked her up. “Mama!”

“Y/N!” Natasha yelled, helplessly watching as the men dragged her daughter away.

You let out a sharp gasp as you sat up from your bed. Taking in your surroundings, you had been dreaming, but it didn’t feel as if it were a dream at all. You slowly got up from your bed, slipping on your slippers as you got off the bed. Making your way out of the room and down the hall. The lamp in the living room was on, meaning that Roger was still awake.

“You’re still awake?” You asked softly as you made your way over to the couch. You sat down, pulling your knees to your chest.

Roger sighed, “Yeah.” He gave you a small glance before placing the files that had been in his hands, onto the coffee table. “Why are you awake?”

“I had a nightmare,” you admitted. “But it didn’t feel like a nightmare. I mean, I was scared, but it was as if I lived through it.”

“A memory?” Roger said. A small trail of excitement in his voice.

You shake your head. “That wouldn’t make any sense. If it were a memory then why was Bucky and Natasha in it?” You locked eyes with Roger, quickly noticing the distress in his eyes, the way they frantically moved from side to side as if they were trying to come up with an excuse and you knew right there and then, he knew something you didn’t. “What’s wrong?” You questioned.

He cleared his throat and within that split second, the distress was gone. “Nothing,” he replied.

“There was something in your eyes,” you whispered as your feet dropped down to the floor, you still sat on the couch. “Almost as if you knew exactly what I was talking about,” you mumbled, trying to piece it all together but everything just felt so hazy.

“I don’t know anything,” he softly says as he glances down towards his feet.

“You won’t even look at me!” You raised your voice, causing Roger to flinch. “That just says it all!” Roger pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m here trying my best to remember my past but you already know don’t you?” He remained quiet. “Was this all part of Zemo’s plan?”

Roger snapped his head up, his eyes locking with yours once again. “That’s enough,” he sternly said.

“Tell me what you know!” Roger got up from his spot on the recliner, making his way over to the kitchen, you quickly followed behind him. “Tell me, dammit!”

Roger slams his hand on the counter, “I can’t!” He yells. “It’ll ruin everything!”

You scoff, “so it is part of Zemo’s whole plan, isn’t it?”

Roger remained quiet. In his mind, he was trying his hardest to come up with a plan, trying to think of all the things that could go wrong if he told you right there and then.

“And here I thought you actually cared about me,” you whispered.

Roger’s face softened, “JJ-”

“No, don’t,” you snarled. Tears welling up in your eyes. “Don’t call me that. It’s not my real name, the only name I know that might truly be mine is Widow’s Bite.” With that you left the kitchen, slamming your door as soon as you entered your room. Roger flinched at the sound, he couldn’t help but feel as if he had just lost. Slamming his hand against the counter once more, he had to figure something out quickly.

Natasha changed into her pajamas, the thought of laying in bed and relaxing was sounding pretty good to Natasha right about now.

Bucky walked out of the bathroom that led into the room. “There’s just something about tonight that I can’t keep to myself anymore,” he began to say as he began to change into some shorts and an old shirt.

“What’s that?” Natasha questioned, she got under the covers in the bed.

“There were no pictures on the wall,” Bucky said as he made his way to the bed. Natasha tilted her head in a confused manner. “When we visited JJ and Roger, I noticed there weren’t any pictures on the wall.”

Natasha had not realized it when she was there, but thinking back on it now, she doesn’t recall seeing any photos on the wall. “Since we’re on the topic, Roger’s story about JJ’s mother doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky made himself comfortable under the covers before looking over at Natasha.

“When we first met, we spoke and he mentioned that his wife had passed from cancer, and every time he’s mentioned her death, it was about her cancer. Last night, he said that she died in a fire.”

Bucky pondered about it for a bit, lines beginning to form between his eyebrows. “Do you think JJ is in danger?” He asked.

Natasha glanced over at Bucky. “I hope not,” she whispered. “Do you think we should do something?”

Bucky shook his head “no, I’ll talk to JJ next week when we have our next training session.” Natasha gave Bucky a small nod. “But for now, let’s get some rest, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“You ready for this?” Natasha asked Bucky, he zipped up his boot before getting up to give a girlfriend a kiss.

“More than ready,” he whispered.

“They’re waiting for us at the helipad.” Bucky gave her a small nod, they both walked hand in hand up towards the helipad.

“Was beginning to wonder where you two lovebirds were going to get here,” Sam commented as the couple walked into the quinjet.

Bucky rolled his eyes and flipped Sam off. “I’ve been looking for you two,” Fury said, he motioned for them to follow him to a small area in the back of the quinjet. “I wanted to speak to you both before the mission.”

“On what?” Bucky asked.

Fury sighed, “please, sit down.” The couple sat down, Fury placed a folder full of files on the small table that was in front of them. Fury thought long and hard about this, debated whether or not he should tell the couple or wait for them to find out. But Fury knew, he was slowly losing the team’s trust, he knew by telling the couple this information, he would slowly gain that trust back, yet, he worried about their performance. “We were able to hack into Hydra’s system before they figured it out and kicked us out of their system,” Fury began to say. Natasha leaned over for the file, slowly opening it. “I wanted to investigate Zemos new-”

“Oh my god,” She gasped, placing a hand over her mouth to stop the sob from coming out.

Bucky leaned over to look at the file, spotting a familiar face. “That’s JJ,” he said in disbelief. He looked over at Fury, Fury’s eyes trailed down to his feet. He didn’t know how to break the news to the parents in front of him, he had practically raised Natasha as his own and seeing her in such pain brought emotion to build up inside him. Fury tried his best to push the feelings aside.

Clearing his throat, Fury found the courage to speak again. “No,” he began, “JJ is just a disguise that Zemo built. Her real name is-”

“Y/N,” Natasha stated, her watery eyes never leaving the page that laid in front of her. The page that confirmed her daughter was indeed alive.

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @otomefan @dejaazaro @culturebay @kpopishilarious @fireproof-heaven @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @weappreciatepower @whereyoustand @white-wolf-buckaroo @spider-woman22 @coffee-habit @supernaturallover2002 @barnes-parker @therealmrshale @myinternetissoslow @myhippiehopes @celyndavies @xzowiex @ximaginx @wooshytooshy @ellaorelizabeth @rororo06 @chloe-geoghegan1 @hdthdthdt @sophie-barnes26 @thamuddagirl @scarletmeii @ssebstann @fangirl31415 @thepeggyann @lauren-novak @reerrrrskillz @snarky--starky @unapologeticallymimi @glitterquadricorn @lady-of-lies @cassmoreiraxo @just4muggles @mellorine-paprika @agirlruinedbybands @yougottalovefandoms @avngrsinitiative @lizlil

Remember Me Taglist (CLOSED): @fabinaforever11 @eclipwzee @whitelotus13 @yourwonderbelle @blackbannerx @hollandsaetre @hailqueenconquer @mellxander1993 @iwamaye2 @cookies186 @tywys @princessizzy36 @boney-and-skinny @fmb158581 @vapingisntmything @widowbitessting @marvelsswansong @stat89posts @abswritesfandoms @feminist-fan-girl @royale-trash-slytherin @jupiterspoet @blancastans @brckenmemories @lovefairytailforever @witch-of-letters @fools-fallforyou @sebastiansmadden @benhardyseyes @sakourim @s-p-a-c-e-g-a-l @thatsuperherosidekick @bethany-z @all-fandomthings @shikshinkwon @sweetcarolinestudies @majorlyextra @werenotloverss @mottergirl99 @delicatefirespyplaid @lazyoswald

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @acalmandquietplace @sleepylunarwolf @alicat-life @captaiinameriicasass @noobmaster63 @pleasantlysecretdream @xiumin-girl99 @thejourneyneverendsx @thewintersoldier1124 @scarletmeii @imjusthereforsupernatural @latsyrc85x @dyckvindyck @dumblani @vapingisntmything @viarogers @supermoonchildbroski @beepbeepmarie @notice-me-tc @cooflix @hollandsaetre @infinity-saga @marvelsexlol @multifandomwriter121 @charismas-world @marrgaux @biss-stuff @fortunatelynerdylight @deephideoutmilkshake

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @the-lady-cersei-lannister @hollandsaetre @infinity-saga @marvelsexlol @fortunatelynerdylight @thesuitelifeofafangirl @ima-gi--na-tion @sleepylunarwolf @alicat-life @noobmaster63 @Ballerboobitch @kayleigh2703 @xiumin-girl99 @adriennechavez @becauseilovebooks @supermoonchildbroski @beepbeepmarie

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