#I’m a jolly person but I understand that this time of year sucks for some people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thefallennightmare · 1 year ago

Text

Just Pretend-ten

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I don't think you guys understand how broken this gif made me Fuck, creating it killed me! Also, during the hotel scene, listen to snuff by slipknot. It's on the playlist! Some eggs from other songs on the playlist throughout the chapter as well! Enjoy my loves!

Tags: @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here

NICK R.

My heart raced as Jolly and I met each other in the dimly lit hotel hallway, sleep still heavy in our eyes and bones. When he called me a few minutes ago, I rushed out of bed where I was crashing in Matt’s room and knew that it could have been about one thing.

Noah.

“What happened?” I asked.

Jolly ran a hand over his exhausted face. “I don’t know. I haven’t walked inside yet and I’m afraid of what I’m going to see.”

“Y/N. He kicked me out earlier tonight because she was coming by,” I said, remembering suddenly.

“Shit,” Jolly cursed before nodding behind me towards Folio. “No matter what we walk into, we don’t judge him. Whatever happened fucked him up enough that he needs to write a song at three in the morning.”

Folio agreed. “How bad is he?”

I shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

Jolly turned towards the door and knocked gently.

“Yeah.”

The voice that called back was not Noah; this voice sounded broken, and distant, with the single word that was uttered.

“It’s me,” Jolly spoke through the door.

Realizing that Noah was most likely not in a state to answer the door, I handed Jolly my room key and we all sucked in a breath when the light on the lock turned green; us walking into the room one at a time. There was music playing, soft beats echoing off the wall, and I hoped no one would complain to the front desk about the noise.

My bed was still as I left it but Noah’s bed was disheveled with a pair of underwear that clearly weren’t his and a small piece of what I expected was a condom wrapper. Noah’s original clothes from earlier that evening were on the floor at the edge of the bed.

Shit.

Noah was on the floor leaning against the wall with a bottle of Hennessy in hand, more than half gone, and his hair was in a disarray of braids.

“Noah,” Jolly said quietly while bending down in front of him.

He waved a hand in front of his face as his head bobbed slowly. “I’m good, man. I just wanted to get this beat down. It’s in my head.”

“She wouldn’t stay, would she?” I questioned while motioning towards the bed.

“Didn’t need to. Jus’ friends. ‘S’all it’s come to. She didn’t need to and I don’t really fucking care. I don’t. No sweat off ma back,” he finished the rest of the bottle before letting it slip from his fingers. “I’m fine. F.I.N.E.”

The three of us shared a painful wince as he spelled out the word two more times.

As if whoever was watching over us from above, just then that specific song by Too Close To Touch came blasting through the small portable speaker Noah always brought with.

“See?” Noah pointed to the air around him. “Even fucking Keaton is telling you guys I’m fine.”

But then, he slammed his head against the wall behind him as his bottom lip trembled, his chest caving in at hearing his best friend's voice play throughout the room. Noah was only rubbing more salt in his wounds and fuck, they burned.

“Why the fuck aren’t you here, man?” he choked out. “You knew her better than us. What did I do? Why’d she leave?”

Keaton’s name felt like ice in our hearts and I knew it was a stabbing pain through Noah’s chest.

“Whatever,” Noah grumbled, wiping angrily at his face. “Her decision; bad decision. Fuck her. I need to write.”

“Noah, come on, don’t say shit you’re gonna regret,” Folio spoke. “You can’t write when you’re drunk. You know that.”

“M’not. She jus’ my good friend. I fucking knew I wasn’t enough for her.”

He was far gone, not even realizing that Folio and I stood behind Jolly, our own somber expressions weighing heavily on our faces.

Finally, his eyes opened and when he saw all three of us, Noah groaned.

“Oh, great ya called them?” He pointed towards us. “I don wanna hear I told you so, erm stubborn. Yadayadsa.”

His words slurred together, stumbling over his tongue.

Folio peered around the room, counting the empty bottles. “I’m counting two.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Apparently he’s been sitting here awhile.”

“You know I can’t stay; you deserve better than me,” Noah chuckled, imitating Y/N’s voice.

Jolly peered over his shoulder at us and his lips were pulled in a tight line, all of us thinking the same thing.

“Noah” I sighed with my hands on my hips.

His head snapped up, eyes red with tears so close to falling but they wouldn’t. Noah was always in control of his emotions; he refused to cry in front of us.

“She told me what I felt, she told me what I wanted and what I didn’t. Didn’t give me a fucking say about anything before she walked the fuck out. Left. Gone,” he rambled on.

“She’s going through-,” Folio started.

“Fuck that,” Noah seethed with clenched fists in his lap. “I don’-don’t care right now, in this moment. She fucking stole my heart and took it with ‘er. Jus’ friends.”

The last two words sounded bitter on his tongue, like acid.

While we let him wallow in the pain, I motioned for Jolly and Folio to walk to the other side of the room, out of earshot from Noah.

“Should we ask Malcom or Chase what the fuck happened?” Jolly asked.

“Do you think she told them?” Folio wondered.

I shrugged while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t doubt that. She likes him, we know she does. It’s clear.”

“Then why did she leave?” Jolly questioned, his own pain for Noah making his jaw clench. “What the fuck happened to make her leave?”

I gazed over to Noah, my heart falling into my stomach at the broken sight of my brother. “He jumped. He jumped but Y/N wasn’t there yet.”

The three of us made a quick plan of action before Jolly and Folio went to help Noah up off the floor, his limp body dragging on the floor.

“Noah let’s get into bed,” Folio suggested.

“No. I need to finish this beat, and these fuckin’ lyrics in my head,” he pushed himself away from them, standing on two shaky feet but standing. He smacked his forehead over and over.

Jolly nodded. “We will, but first you need to get some sleep.”

He glared at the bed in front of him, a mess of the decision they made together.

“…the pillow.. she was on that one,” Noah pointed. “It smells like that fucking perfume, I don-wanna inhale that shit right now.”

There was so much venom in his voice when he spoke about Y/N and there was a part of me that hoped this wouldn’t last long. He had every right to be upset with her; he gave her his heart, and she walked away.

“Alright, then let’s get you some sleep in mine,” I said.

He licked his lips, an unreadable look flashing in bloodshot eyes. “I still fucking taste her. It’s a poison that I should have fucking avoided.”

“Can’t help you with that, brother,” Folio tried to joke.

No one laughed

“No. I need to finish this-,” Noah stumbled over to his suitcase to snatch a piece of paper and pen, something he always kept on him.

I stepped in front of him to hold him steady, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was as if it was trying to break free to chase after Y/N; just for her to stomp on it again.

No, I shook my head, you can’t let your own anger deter you from trying to fix Noah. You can be angry about the situation but not her. It’s no one's fault.

“You don’t like to write when you’re not home,” I tried to take the pen and paper away from him.

“I don’ care nicKLas.” He pushed past me to fall onto his bed, ass first on the pillow. “I have to, right now.”

Sensing the sudden thick tension, not knowing what the next thing would be that would set him off, Jolly gave a slow nod toward Noah.

“Alright. Let it go, man. Let us hear it.”

Even though they weren’t written down, Noah still burned his gaze into the empty page in front of him. Through the slurred words, the ache that poured out of him brought chills to my bones.

“How quick it gets lonely here at the top. Her skin feels unholy but I’m still drawn. The morals I’m holding, you know they’re gone.”

Fuck, that was good.

Noah’s eyes snapped over to us. “Why aren’t you helping me get down this beat?”

I held my arms out to the empty room. “We don’t have our stuff here Noah, this isn’t usually how we do this.”

“Fuck,” he ran a shaky hand over his chin. “Ok well then here! Voice clip it.”

While he tossed his phone to Jolly, who barely caught it in time, I gave Folio a look of luck before slipping out of the room, almost running into Matt who stood at the open doorway.

“Who the fuck is blasting Snuff by Slipknot at four in the morning?” He asked with fury.

No doubt someone called the front desk and complained who in turn complained to Matt.

“Woah, what the fuck is going on right now?” Matt took a tentative step into the room, eyeing the situation.

“Didn’t you hear, fucker?” Noah whipped his head towards us so fast, that the braids smacked around his face. “She ran away, she’s the fuckin same.”

He hiccuped a sob. “Angels lie to keep control.”

“Fuck's sake,” Jolly pinched his nose with a sigh.

I gave Matt’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just keep an eye on Noah, he’s not in a good place right now.”

“Fuck, don’t tell me-,” he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his sweater.

“Just- let me handle it man,” I slipped past him out of the room and quick steps took me to the elevator.

I bounced on the soles of my feet as I repeatedly pushed the down floor button and cursed when the doors finally opened. Blackness took over as I let the images of Noah sitting there broken carry me to the room, hand pounding on the door.

Time be damned. I couldn't care less if she was asleep right now. How could she be asleep while my best friend, my brother, was fucking dying on the inside?

Not again. I refused to let him sink for another.

“Nick?” Chase squinted with the sudden light blasting in from the hallway. “Everything alright?”

“Where is she?”

He continued to stare at me with narrowed eyes. “Who? Y/N?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Is she here?”

I tried to peer past him but only saw someone with auburn curls walk behind Chase, leaving a gentle hand on his back. “What’s going on?”

“Nick’s looking for Y/N,” Chase informed Malcolm.

He stared at me confused. “Last I heard she was going to hang out with Noah. Did something happen?”

“What the fuck do you think?” I snapped but then let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an asshole but she left. Noah’s a fucking wreck. It seemed like they had a great time- so what’s the deal? I thought she cared for him. Why, why would she hurt my friend?”

I was the middle child, great at negotiating, great at being the middle man. The one who would try to settle things. I was on Noah’s side with this one, she’s my friend, but he’s my brother. Even I didn’t see this coming. I tried to remain neutral when I asked them and tried not to look annoyed.

“Dude- she does, she cares for him a lot,” Malcolm spoke while tying up his curls. “Noah makes her so happy. We haven’t seen her glow like that in years, I just- I don’t know. We don’t know why she would leave. Unless…”

Chase quickly pushed Malcolm back into the room slightly. “Dude, no. That’s not our business to tell. She has to be the one to decide.”

“What?!” I asked.

They knew something, and I needed to know; right now.

“That’s her business, not ours,” Chase said, rubbing his head.

“What?,” I scoffed. “Is she fucking dying or something? Is she okay?”

“No, no, she’s fine. All I’ll say is she does things in her life that can require extra attention. But like I said, that’s not for us to discuss, even with you man, sorry,” he pauses and says again. “Is he- is Noah alright?”

“Honestly? No. He isn’t, he’s drunk and writing right now. He’s gonna feel like hell when we have to leave for the airport in a few hours.”

Malcolm sighed. “I’m sorry dude. When Y/N comes back, we’re going to have to have a long talk. We know she cares for your friend, Nick. Her heart is in the right place- we just don’t know where the hell her mind is. We’ll figure it out.”

I nod and smile slightly, in agreement. My eyes want to convey a lot more. Y/N’s a good person, but she broke my friend's heart tonight. This is why I was so hesitant about this relationship with him and Y/N. I warned Noah not to jump yet, but he did.

All I could do right now until she came back was nod a quick thanks to them and hope that Y/N would confide in them. I wanted to fix my friend's broken soul so often, and so often I tried and succeeded. I wasn’t sure I could with this one- I needed to let them go through this on their own. But I’ll be damned if I let my friend suffer.

“Alright well, let me know what you find out, please.”

“Absolutely, anytime man. We’ll talk,” Chase reassured with a nod, Malcolm bumping fists with mine.

When I made it back to Noah’s room, I noticed the guys huddled around Noah’s slumped body in the bed, clutching the pillow Y/N laid on close to his chest, snoring loudly, and another empty bottle of Hennessy next to him.

“Shit,” I breathed. “Another one?”

Matt sighed defeated. “We tried, man. But his strength when he’s drunk and angry is something not to mess with. You know that.”

I nodded because I knew that. All too well.

“He only fell asleep about five minutes ago. I don’t know how we’re going to get him up in two hours so we can make our flights,” Folio wondered.

“We’ll figure it out,” I assured them. “Did he finish writing?”

“Yeah,” Matt slowly went towards the end of the bed, gently pulling the book from under Noah’s arm; pen falling from his hands.

“What does it say?” My brows raised as I took the paper in my hands; my brothers' broken words staring back at me.

Bitter ends to the nights. I’m along for the ride. Out of breath, out of time. Everything has a price. You can be all I got, what’s the difference? Hennessy and a lot of bad decisions. All I know, all I know is bad, bad decisions.

“Gotta admit, it’s fucking good,” Jolly said while he read the lyrics over my shoulder.

I bit my lip. “Yeah.”

Folio yawned loudly while stretching, exhausted body falling onto my bed. “Get ready boys because once we’re home, we won’t have a moment of peace. We’re writing a new record.”

NICK R.

You could cut the tension with a knife in this boarding gate right now.

The sun barely broke through the thick glass of the windows as Bad Omens and Hollow Souls sat on other ends of the gate, waiting for our flights to be called. With tired but intent eyes, I watched Noah as he kept his eyes cast down to his hands, fingers intertwining with each other as he picked away the black nail polish. It was as though it was his subconscious way of chipping pieces of Y/N away, the way he washed his hands in the restroom earlier, scrubbing her off him.

His nails were surely, going to bleed if he kept picking at them, I wanted to intervene, say stop that. I needed him to process his feelings. I so badly wanted to scream in this airport, wake the fuck up, to them both. But I kept my reservations.

And just like him, Y/N looked rough. It was clear neither of them, or well any of us got any sleep last night.

Where the fuck did they go so wrong together?

Noah had been a fan of hers ever since that night on my pull-out couch but the first time they met each other almost 2 months ago, their eyes were bright with a vibrant gaze. Almost like searchlights attempting to find something. The lights found it, but they were almost too intense, almost like bystanders. Through all the confusion, I knew deep within me it wouldn’t be long until the searchlights were searching again, just a matter of when.

Us?

We weren’t allowed to see what was being found. We should have looked away, and avoided the crash. But to see them now, those same eyes swollen, discolored and raw red, the blood vessels wanting to leave their faces made it harder to look away.

Noah ran a hand through his hair, now out of the braids and cascading around his shoulder, and let his eyes graze over towards Y/N, who was resting her head against Chase's shoulder. It was brief, the look of agony in them, but he looked away before she could catch him.

The airline called out for Vegas first; Chase and Y/N’s flight. Then our flight back home to LA was called out seconds later.

Those two sets of eyes, continue to gaze and plead and beg until their shoulders are tapped, Jolly to Noah and Chase to Y/N. As he stood, Noah adjusted the bag on his shoulder and waved his fingers in a peace sign toward the three members of Hollow Souls. This wasn’t how we wanted our new friendships and tour to end.

He wants to be in her life. He still does, otherwise, he wouldn’t have done that. I thought to myself as I noticed Y/N gave her one peace sign to all of us.

She’s sorry, she wants him in her life and regrets it.

I could fucking see it. This was going to be a long ride with these two.

As we all stood with our carry-on bags, ready to walk towards our gate, I gave Chase a knowing nod who immediately pulled out his phone, avoiding the eyes of Y/N, to send me a message.

I’ll tell you everything

Noah slept the entire flight, not speaking a word or even opening his eyes. Now, as we pulled up to the house he said with Jolly, Orie, Michael, and Jesse, Noah still had yet to say one word. Folio offered to stay with but we knew he had someone to meet back home in Virginia so we told him we had it from here.

“You sure?” Folio asked before we boarded the plane.

I nodded. “Yeah, go back to Virgina. Tell her we said hey.”

I, on the other hand, was a different story.

“I’m not going home right now,” I told Noah as I set my bags down in their living room. They had little extra space, but I didn’t care. I’d sleep on the couch as long as I was near my brother. “I won’t leave you in this state, Noah.”

“Nick, I’m a grown man. I’ll be alright,” he sighed while popping open the bottle of aspirin, and swallowing two pills dry.

For the hangover.

“I know you are,” I nodded. “Just let me be there for you, okay?”

NOAH

If it wasn’t terrible enough that not only did my fucking love life shut down, but the world had to as well?

Two months. It’s been almost two months since the tour ended and this pandemic took over the world, forcing us to stay stuck inside. While the rest of the guys went stir-crazy after the first few weeks, I spent the solace writing, drinking, and trying to forget about her.

The latter lasted only a few minutes once we returned home; her scent being stained into my skin, her touch engraved deep into my bones it made it hard to get out of bed. I see her in all my mirrors. Her reflection was haunting me relentlessly like a ghost.

Hennessy and Jack have become my friends in the last few weeks at home. I knew the guys were worried; I didn’t need them to worry. I was fine.

Y/N and I are friends.

Right, then how come you haven’t texted her in weeks?

Because she’s been busy with the move, I retorted back to my own thoughts.

Malcolm texted our Hollow Omens group chat to let us know that Y/N was settling in nicely in their new apartment in Los Angeles. We can come by anytime for a housewarming party but immediately I ignored that. Wouldn’t it be fucking awkward?

Trey wasn’t home when she and Chase showed up to pack her things so they could leave without incident.

Even with her cat Salem.

Chase sent a few pictures of the cat in the group chat, long black fur lying on his chest. I never responded, simply liking the messages before setting my phone on silent the rest of the night. I noticed that Y/N rarely ever responded in the chat as well, only when Chase or Malcolm would ask her something but she would only reply with emojis or a short ‘ok.’

The pandemic was only getting started and I could feel the suffocation kick in. I felt alone; utterly alone. I put all my heart into this one woman, a woman I yearned for, for a long time.

The loud ringing of the doorbell pulled me from my melancholy thoughts and I sighed, almost forgetting I ordered food an hour ago. I was in such a trance I hadn’t realized the noise of the loud bell eased me out of my rocking back and forth on the couch.

I didn’t even notice I did that.

I took a massive swig of my jack and clenched my teeth as it burned all the way down my throat, heart racing a mile a minute.

Calm down, calm down.

Time slowed, or passed by in a blaze? I wasn’t sure the longer I sat in the somewhat dark living room, open but untouched food container on the table in front of me as the chicken scratch of my handwriting teased back at me.

Why’s this always gotta happen to me? I should have known. I never fail to never learn from mistakes, still throwing stones. Blood signed, we made it a pact. Yours dried out; you took it back.

The alcohol was like battery acid as I took another large swing of Jack but it wasn’t kicking in strong enough. I kept swinging until the burn covered up my pain.

Harper’s soft whines from her perch next to me on the couch pulled at my heartstrings so knowing Orie wasn’t here, I fed her a few pieces of my cold dinner.

The front door opened, voices carrying from the entryway into the living room and my heart hammered with the panic of them seeing me like this. I hid the bottle under the pillow and tossed the small bag into the garbage from my food.

“Shit, Noah. Why are you sitting in the dark?” Jolly asked while turning on the lamp next to the sofa I was sitting on.

“Hi,” My voice was soft because now with the bright lights, the room was spinning.

“You working on another song?” He eyed the bottle that stuck out from behind the pillow, irritation in his eyes.

They matched my own.

I chewed roughly on my bottom lip. “Yes, man, what do you think?”

“Don’t be hostile, go eat and let me look over it,” Jolly motioned to my food while he reached for the pad of paper.

“You can’t just tell me what to do,” I snapped while reaching for it before he could.

“Noah, you gotta eat so you don’t get hungover. Let me look at the song,” he took the pad of paper and walked over to the other side of the room. Once he fell into the chair in the corner of the room, Jolly nodded up at me. “Fucking eat, Noah”

I sighed and grabbed my food to chew slowly, “Okay Dad”

Jesse stalked into the living room a few moments later while stuffing his phone into his pocket. “Nick said there might be news of the ban lifting completely by the end of the month. Which means we can get a change of scenery. Might be good for us.”

Holy Hades, this is one of those times I wished I lived alone.

Shortly after getting back home, the pandemic started and Nick ended up getting stuck with us in LA. He didn’t mind, more time for us to hang and chill, but now that procedures were lifting slowly at a time, he took the first opportunity to fly back to Virginia to get things settled there.

“Hey,” Jesse sat on the arm of Jolly’s chair. “Is this another song?”

Even though my head was throbbing with the ongoing hangover, I leaned back into the couch while nodding and Harper now rested her whole body in my lap. “It’s the third one.”

��Oh? Nice! Let me see” He began flipping through the pages.

Normally, I’d jump and take the book from his hands, but right now this room was in spirals. I was sick to my knees. All I wanted to do was call her, and have her tell me it’ll be fine. But I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet, and she wasn’t ready to talk to me either.

Clearly.

Malcolm texted me the other day, outside of the Hollow Omens group chat to tell me that Y/N wasn’t doing okay and she missed me. She wanted to talk to me and wanted us over one night when the bans were lifted. But if that was the truth, then how come the last text I had on my phone from her was right before she came to my hotel room that night?

Her unholy skin tasted like the forbidden fruit, all the morals we held that night gone. No gods, no religion. Just our bad decisions. Memories of the way she looked while on top of me burned into my brain and I couldn’t forget the way she felt coming undone.

It paralyzed me so much so that I left Malcolm on read for two days.

Thanks man, glad it worked out. Be in touch.

Snapping out of my drunken thoughts, I noticed Jesse was still reading the pages, not giving a damn I’m leaving my heart out on the table in front of him, bleeding all over while he was reading it.

“Bad Decisions. Nice,” Jesse nodded before flipping back to the new song I was working on. “Nowhere to go? Angsty. I like it.”

I shrugged and stopped mid-chew. “Yeah, I know. It’s what I do, Jesse.”

Arrogant? No, it was smart; I had to channel this shit somewhere. I knew this, no matter what, I’ll always write a fucking song. I wanted to panic, and I did, but the liquor was doing its job.

Jolly went to grab the guitar while Jesse moved to the couch, Harper now lying in his lap.

Traitor.

As I reached for the bottle of Jack this time, Jolly hastily ripped it from my hands and to exhausted to fight, I let him.

“No. Let’s add a chorus to Nowhere To Go, yeah?”

“Sure, yeah, I got something in mind.” I took the notebook back to jot some more words down.

After a few moments, I read the entire thing a few times, making sure it was perfect before I gave it to him.

“Start with this?” He asked.

I nodded then soon, my thoughts became words into the air.

“Hear me out, I’m sorry, but I’m a little less than sold. I’ve been around, heard all the stories you said you never told. You’re used to speaking in tongues to feel like you’re in control. Now you’ve got nowhere to run, now you’ve got nowhere to go. Tell me what’s mine and tell me what’s yours. Why I never got a say, never got a choice? Tell me what’s mine and tell me what’s yours. Why I never got a say, never got a choice?”

“Fuck, that sounds amazing, Noah. Let’s finish this.” Jolly mused,

That night, we finished Bad Decisions and Nowhere to Go.

Folio

Noah began smoking weed again, on top of all the alcohol he’d been consuming the last few weeks, he was on a downward spiral. It was only in small doses but that’s how the drinking started; he took up this faux savior persona.

“I can save myself,” he’d say after one of us would bring up how worried we were about him.

It was a load of shit. Any of us could tell you that.

This was the first time I’d seen him since the tour ended, all those months ago, but time away did nothing to help his mental state. Noah was breaking, piece by piece, and now that the ban lifted, we could visit again. Hence Nick and I were hanging out in their living room, a soft beat of music playing on the speakers.

Noah came bounding down the stairs, smelling of whiskey and weed, eyes glassy, rosy, and filled with rage. His hands were full of ink as he’d been writing nonstop, with everlasting consistency.

As he cascaded, his stomps were harsh, and if he realized it, Noah didn’t give a shit. When he reached into the kitchen and slammed the cupboard door wide open, he grabbed a bag of pita chips with tight force, breaking a few chips no doubt.

“Why are these almost gone? I just fucking bought them?” He snapped with a smart-ass attitude.

All of us eyed each other wearily, unsure how or even if we should respond but it was Orie who muttered under his breath. “We had some with the hummus we bought earlier. Chill the fuck out, Noah. It’s not that deep.”

Noah tossed the bag onto the counter. “It is that deep when it's something of mine. Fucking ass if you want it. Why is it so hard for people to communicate?”

Michael, who usually was the quiet, almost forgotten one, finally snapped. “We’re being patient with you. But we’re not your fucking punching bag.”

Jolly’s head snapped over to Michael from his spot on the floor in front of the couch with wide eyes full of heat, I was sure vanilla ice cream would melt. Jolly was the one who let all of us know to take it easy on Noah; it was a hard time in his life, and the last thing he needed was one of us fighting with him.

Noah hadn’t spoken to Y/N in weeks and we could physically see the imaginary soul ties that bound them together withering away, even though they were within miles of each other now that she lived here. Miles apart but still couldn’t gain the fucking courage to grow up and speak to each other.

Michael sighed his apology while running a hand over his face. “We’re here for you, man. We’re being patient. But you can’t keep going on like this.”

“You’re drowning right now and the painful to watch, you haven’t been this bad in years. Let us help you,” Nick spoke with a shaky breath.

Out of all of us, it hurt him the most to see Noah like this because he’d seen it before; only this time it was worse.

“You can’t help me, nothing to help me with. I’m fine,” Noah shrugged before reaching for another beer.

“You’re in denial and it’s ridiculous,” I said, tired of seeing and hearing the same bullshit. “Noah, I think you should see someone.”

“A shrink? Seriously?” He snorted.

“I think it can help you, besides the way music does,” I offered.

“I don’t need you to help me, I just want the racing to stop. The racing in my mind going miles a minute,” He slammed a finger to the side of his head repeatedly. “We have so much shit to do, and I can’t see anything but what happened right now. It’s a fuckin loop in my brain. Everything just keeps glitching.”

Noah then paced the length of the kitchen, red sweater pulled tightly against his chest and hood over his eyes.

“I’m- I’m sorry man, I’m sorry I just- fuck” he spat, a tear fell out of his eye but was quick to wipe it away.

Vulnerability be damned

“We’re your friends, we love you. We were stuck in this fucking house together for months. We can’t go anywhere and you don’t want us to worry? Well, too fucking bad because we do,” Orie explained with a tense-looking Harper in his lap.

She didn’t like the sudden noise but didn’t want to leave her dad.

Noah’s glossy eyes took in all our faces one by one, lingering a few seconds longer than the last.

“I just need time, I don’t know how to handle this, it’s- it’s weird for me. I’m uncomfortable. I don’t think I’ve fallen this hard, this fast,” he admitted while swallowing the lump in his throat.

That much was true. He’s had exes, one-night stands; hell, he’s been in love before- but I’ve never seen it develop this way. We’ve never seen him fall from such a high altitude this quickly. His guards are usually pointed like sharp knives, but it was so easy for him to dull them down for her.

I only hoped Y/N knew that. This was a big deal. I watched my friend crumble and crack like glass.

Time would only tell when they would repair the damage done here. I only hoped it would soon because we hated to see him bruise so easily. He’s right on the edge I fear, one more thing, one more thing and he’ll fall completely into a darkness we wouldn’t be able to pull him from.

“All I do is drink to numb the pain because all the good days we had together got taken away when my head turned on. I keep asking myself ‘why am I not good enough for her?’ How the fuck can I be good enough for her when I don’t even know what good enough is?”

None of us had an answer for him; the only one that did, he was purposely ignoring.

With a lone tear falling from his eyes, Noah wiped it away with the back of his hand, sniffles echoing in the kitchen.

“It’s so hard to watch myself win when a loser's all I've been.”

NOAH

I lay in my bed, neon glows emanating from behind my bed soaking the walls, as I stared up at the ceiling. My mind was racing so face in pace with my heart and I tried so hard to just breathe; fucking breathe to ease it. This pain was like a burning coal I was walking but within a second, all the pain was gone. I couldn’t take it anymore, the drinking, smoking, and not eating affected my health. I was skin on bones at this point.

Keaton's voice rang in my ears. “You’re a shell, Noah. Holding in these shattered nerves. A skeleton that's lost its skin and desperately wants back in.”

Tattooed hands covered my face as I blew a shaky breath into them.

“I need a sign from you, man. Give me something to know I haven’t messed it up yet,” I cried.

A second later, my phone buzzed from the spot on my bed, and through cloudy tears, I sucked in a breath when I saw Chase’s name appear with a new text.

Chase: Hey man, I haven’t heard from you the last few days, I wanted to check in with you. I know this may seem out of nowhere, but we’re worried about you and just hope you’re doing alright.

I stared up at the ceiling again, my heart relaxing its frenzied beat for a moment. “Thank you.”

Hey, all good. Sorry for the late reply. Appreciate it, doing just fine.

Chase: that’s great, but I’ve been hearing other things, so I don’t buy that. Look, again, this isn’t my place but I know Y/N hurt you that night. I can’t sit here and apologize on her behalf, but, I can at least tell you this: she isn’t doing well either; and as someone with two fucking eyes; I can see how much you mean to each other. Some birdies have been telling me you’re drinking yourself into a coma and acting a fool. I apologize for the harshness, but let me ask you this, do you think Y/N wants another Trey? You’re fucking better than that, aren’t you? Do you want to end up as another deadbeat musician with nothing to show for it but a bottle? No, I don’t know you that well but I can see you’re not that guy.

Do yourself a favor and do fucking better. Because she deserves better and so do you. So y’all can sort this soap opera shit out. Talk to you soon, I fucking hope. ✌️

With my phone clattering to the floor, the message left on read, I continued to lie in my bed; the pillow suffocating my mouth and nose.

“I’m not Trey. I’m fucking better than him,” I sat up quickly in bed, my hangover still raging inside my head.

Music is all I have, it’s all lived for-that was until I met her.

With the small get-together happening downstairs still, I ran to the bathroom across the hall to throw up any contents of lingering alcohol and pita chips. I washed my face and brushed my hair out, for the first time in weeks looking somewhat presentable.

“Get it together, you fucking dick.” I pointed a firm finger at my reflection in the mirror, thankful I didn’t see the ghost of Y/N staring back at me. “Do it for the band, do it for your music. Do it for her.”

To some, my shaky words might not have a strong belief but they did to me. It left me with the belief that miracles, no matter how inexplicable or unbelievable, are real and can occur without regard to the natural order of things. Keaton’s sign proved that.

“Just come back to me,” I whispered with trembling lips.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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babyhedonistt · 1 year ago

Text

Too Close to Touch // FIVE

Warning : SMUT, swearing

authors note : this took all day to finish, but I hope you guys like it🤍

—

PRESENT DAY

“ There’s nothing to revisit Matt.” Noah explains in a stern whisper. Matt brings his voice down to a whisper, understanding that you were in the room right next to theirs.

“ it’s already bad enough that you both had to sign a nondisclosure agreement about your relationship but the fact that you can’t even get along for the sake of the band is really starting to take a toll on her involvement with Nick’s absence.”

Noah sighs. “It was just so sudden… I didn’t think out of everybody who knows how to play the drums that she would be the only one we would be able to use.”

Matt nods his head before scratching the back of his neck. “ I think you care for her a lot more than you let on I mean it’s written all in your music.” Noah’s color drains from his face as he stares at Matt. “ what are you talking about?” Matt raised an eyebrow before scoffing, followed by a laugh.

“ That one day in the studio? Back in the beginning of February before the death of peace of mind was released? You would not lighten up on how you wanted just pretend to sound.. do you remember that? that was not that long ago. The day we had just found out that Folio had broken his wrist.” Matt continues to point out.

“ I’m just picky about my work. I’ve always been like this.”

“ Noah, you changed the whole sound of the song.”

Noah cocks his head back and rolls his eyes. “ Look, all Im saying is that you two broke up almost three years ago. The least you could do as well as a FAVOR to your injured band mate would be to suck it up with your ex girlfriend for two more shows.” Matt pushes at Noah’s shoulder

Noah thought back to the previous night, where Y/N had made a proposal in which he wasn’t sure he agreed with.

“After the tour is done. I promise you won’t have to see me again” her voice rang in his ears.

What did she even mean?

“Come on.” Matt slaps Noah in the back with a reassuring slap. “ Get some sleep, okay? Im sure Jolly and Nick will return shortly.”

Great.

Before Noah could respond to Matt, he was already walking out of the room. Noah did not want to deal with the repercussions of an upset Ruffilo so he decided to just get into bed and pretend to be asleep until his body actually calmed down enough to. He couldn’t understand why his body was so heated, rushed with adrenaline whenever she was around him.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

Noah pulled back the covers on the bed before he snaked in and just stared at the dark ceiling after turning off the lights. His mind was scrambled. He tried sorting through his thoughts but they all just kept coming back to the one memory that suck out like a sore thumb.

Jolly and Ruffilo eventually came back to the room. Ruffilo seemed to have calmed down because the two shared a laugh when they came back.

Noah could hear the covers move from the bed next to him before he looked over and saw the two trying to sleep. His gaze wandered to the alarm clock resting on the nightstand, the bright red letters glowing in the dark room.

12:47am.

He felt a long sigh leave his mouth before he found himself throwing the covers off his body. he put on his slides and rushed out the front door of the hotel room. It didn’t take him long but eventually he found himself standing in front of yours. His mind was scattered as he mentally debated between trying the door handle or just knocking like a normal person.

Knock Knock Knock.

You jolted awake. You look over at the front door, debating whether or not the sound you just heard was real or if you were simply experiencing a weird dream. Reality was confirmed when the knock happened again, this time more assertive, and frantic.

You thought it to be Matt so you put on your flip flops before making your way to the front door, yawning and trying to wake yourself up.

“Matt?” You groan attempting to look through the peep hole. “Try again.” Noah’s raspy voice sounds on the other side of the door.

“What do you want?” You call, not opening the door. “For you to open the door.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you.” He states.

You turn the door knob just slightly as you peek your head out to the hallway. “what do you—“

Noah pushes his way into the hotel room and closes the door behind him. “Tell me what you want or I’m gonna fucking scream.”

“ I figured out why you make me so angry.” He bluntly stated. It takes you aback. “Well then.” You scoff.

“It’s the fact you don’t make me angry at all. You make me FRUSTRATED.”

“I don’t…” You shake your head confused.

Noah grabs your face with his hands as he starts backing you away from the door.

“You frustrate me. sexually. you arouse me. you make me crazy. you make me wild because there’s this deep, daunting fire inside of me that wants to push you out of my life so I won’t have to deal with any repercussions of wanting to kiss every bit of your body. A part of me wants to scream from the rooftops that this relationship won’t last. that it’s wrong to want my best friend’s sister. But the other part of me couldn’t care less. And this time, I want to listen to the other part of me.”

You were dumbfounded. Noah has lied to you before. Noah has looked you dead in the eyes in your past and they were filled with hatred.

This time was different. His eyes were somber. his eyes were pleading. His eyes were soft.

This was the Noah you remember.

You don’t say anything, and you latch your hands onto his wrists as he held your face and proceeded to kiss you.

He kissed you like he was hungry, like he had been starved of your touch for too long.

And he has.

His lips were soft. His large hand snaked to the base of your head as he deepened the kiss and you closed your eyes. He keeps backing you up until your legs hit the side of your bed and one of his hands holds the small of your back before resting you gently on your bed. He finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. He was warm to the touch.

“what are you thinking?” you breathed heavily, your hand falling to his chest as his eyes scanned your face, almost looking for any hints of doubt before he proceeded.

“you. i’m thinking about you. I want you, Y/N.” He moved between your legs and took your hand gently with his, snaking it down to the drawstrings of his pants. He placed your hand against his bulge, not breaking eye contact with you once. “This is how bad I want you.”

Your heart sped up and you felt hot at the touch of him beneath your hand. His erection pulsed with agony as you felt the heartbeat and blood flowing through him.

There’s just one thing stopping you.

“Noah…. I’m a virgin…”

That took him aback. He tried to hide it but you could see it in his eyes. It was silent for a minute before he nodded and sat you both up, so you were sitting in his lap.

“It’s not that I don’t want to with you Y/N.” He starts.

“We never did before.” You finish, feeling slightly embarrassed before he moves the hair from your face.

“I know I’m an asshole. but with this I don’t want to be one.” He explains, his voice still hoarse from it being nighttime.

You nod in response as you play with your fingers looking at your lap.

“but.” he states lifting your chin with his finger to make you look at him. “When the time is right. I will make it better than you have ever dreamed.”

You felt red cloud your face as he kissed your forehead. “i’m sorry. i let everything get in the way of what we had.” he apologized and you nod, exhaling.

“I hope you still mean it in the morning.”

He stares at you before biting his lower lip embarrassed. “Y/N. We can’t let Matt, Folio, or anyone know that this is happening.”

“but-“

“It will just complicate things.” he explains. “Especially with our NDA, I don’t know what could come from this with the tour still happening. Just for now okay?”

You felt dirty. Keeping the two of you a secret, especially after knowing how it would affect not only the status of the band but the relationship between the boys. Although considering how you feel about him and how he seems to feel about you……

Fuck it.

——-

To be continued ;)

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maraudersftw · 4 years ago

Note

Claudia — this prompt!!!!!!! 💕✨

1. Two characters haven’t seen each other for a while, one keeps rambling about something insignificant and the other one kisses them because “Shut up you’re rambling just kiss me.”

Omg, M, so excited to receive this from you! 😂💜 And I had a blast writing it, so obviously it got long (1.5k words). Thanks for the prompt. Hope you enjoy!

Glittering Darkness

The Butterbeer is a slide of warm froth down his throat, easing up frozen insides brought on by the biting January cold. He smiles, grin stupid on face, hazel eyes bright behind glasses, and listens to Sirius yammer on about Quidditch and teams and players—

“The Canons don’t stand a fucking chance this season, mate,” Sirius repeats for the thousandth time that week, to the audience of Remus’s rolling eyes, Peter’s enraptured gaze and James’s dazed attention. “I have my bet on the Arrows. I mean, have you seen Crossby’s performance lately? Not missed a single bloody snitch so far in. That’s gotta be some kind of record, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Oi, Prongs!” he snaps, brows instantly furrowed at not receiving James’s immediate response, no matter that Peter’s vehement nodding probably dislodges the boy’s neck. “Someone throw a Confundus at you? That’s a dumb expression on your face, if I’ve seen one.”

James sighs, leans back, embraces the lovely chatter of his peers around The Three Broomsticks. “I’m just having a good day.”

The boys are instantly suspicious, each choosing to express such emotion with a varying degree of subtlety.

“How come?” Sirius asks, sounding almost put off at not being privy to the answer already.

“Well, I get to spend such a lovely afternoon with you lads. What more could I want?”

“To get laid,” says Sirius, a phrase that is followed immediately by Peter’s loud snort of laughter.

“By a very specific person,” Remus can’t help but add, amusement quirking his mouth in that typical way of his.

“Nonsense,” he waves off, another gulp of Butterbeer tossed back. “I’m perfectly content.”

“Okay, I take it back. It has to be a cheering charm,” Sirius ponders solemnly, just as a group of familiar Gryffindors enters The Three Broomsticks, huddling together as they brush off snow from thick robes and gloves.

Such a sight is by no means a rarity, given that the pub has already been crawling with Hogwarts students since the start of day. But James’s eyes are quick to lock onto a very specific person, a flash of red hair, pink cheeks, bright, bright laughter. No one around him seems to notice the tectonic plates shifting under their feet, nor the way that colour splashes, vibrant and sudden, painting the world afresh. No, they carry on with their conversations and snark as if air hasn’t suddenly become easier to draw in, as if her mere presence hasn’t literally lit up the room. He supposes, after a second of reflection, that she’s indeed his personal cheering charm.

Lily nods to the girls—Mary, Dorcas, Marlene—and points to a booth somewhere at the back. He can’t be arsed to check the exact location; not when it means taking his eyes off a much better alternative. But instead of moving away with them as they take their seats, Lily, curiously enough, breaks off from the group, face blank, easy grace and gait as she meanders off to the loo. Her eyes don’t travel to him, not once.

And yet, James spots that minuscule quirk of lips right before she disappears from view.

Oh.

Very well then.

He’s instantly on his feet, wooden chair scraping back with a loud groan, cutting off Remus mid-speculation as to the reason behind James’s jolly disposition. Three heads turn to him; curious, amused, perhaps even a little concerned.

“Um, you okay, mate?”

“Brilliant,” James replies, feels a thrum of excitement shiver through him, and wonders if it’s openly visible. “Perfectly brilliant. I just need to take a leak.”

“Well, alright, Mr Potter, you’re excused.” Remus laughs.

He takes the time to roll his eyes, but not the effort to dim his smile. It’s probable he looks like a complete loon on a sugar rush, but James truly has never cared about anything less. “Yeah, yeah, have your chuckles, Mr Moony. We’ll see who’s laughing by the end of the day.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you mean, and you sound completely unthreatening with that ridiculous beaming going on.”

James scoffs, walks away from another bout of laughter. “Fuck off.”

The hallway leading to the loos remains mercifully empty; luck that he doesn’t take for granted thanks to the crowd spilling inside the pub. With a quick manoeuvre honed over years of efficient marauding, he pulls out a shrunken invisibility cloak from his robes, enlarges it to its normal size, and disappears beneath the silvery material, feeling its strange softness like a second skin. And then he flattens himself against the wall, scooting around until he’s strategically placed within an alcove near the entrance to the girls’ lavatory—far away enough to give a wide berth to anyone he doesn’t want to alert, but near enough for an encounter with his target.

His target, who he presumes is not nearly as unsuspecting as she’d let on.

It takes only about ten seconds or so before he sees the swish of her robes, witnesses the easy smile on her face as Lily rounds the corner, nose teased red from cold, freckles scattered like stars, and finds the walls of his chest tighten like concrete slabs at the sight.

In a flash of movement, he’s got a hand wrapped around her wrist, sliding to her waist, yanking her firmly against his body without so much as a whispered greeting. Lily’s impulsive screech of surprise dies down the instant the cloak falls over her head, enveloping them both. The tension of her muscles melts away beneath his fingertips, and she’s quick to plant her hands on his chest, brush indelicately closer, space shrinking enough that he tastes the mint on her breath when she speaks.

“Rather indecent of you to accost me like this, Potter.”

He bends down, appreciates the excited gleam in the green of her eyes. His thumb finds her nape, massages gently. “I had something very important to discuss with you.”

“Mm,” Lily purrs. “That’s better. How may I help you?”

“You see,” he starts, chokes slightly when she grinds against him purposefully. “You see, I was just leaving the castle this morning, ready for a lovely outing with my mates, when a witch who looked remarkably like you all but shoved me into a broom closet, declared her undying love for me, and then snogged me into oblivion. And well, you’ve got to understand what that sort of thing does to a bloke’s mental state.”

“Huh,” she remarks, lets her upper lip slide over his bottom one, nothing but a ghost of touch. “I don’t know much about undying love proclamations, but do go on about this snogging into oblivion business, please.”

James drops his head, sucks on the pulse that jumps beneath the skin of her neck. “Oblivion. Abyss. A whole lot of glittering darkness,” he confesses. “And since this witch resembled you—”

“Remarkably,” she moans, soft.

“Remarkably, of course—I thought it only proper to inform you of such an occurrence, y’know, for reputation’s sake. You’ve got that Head Girl image to maintain. Can’t have imposters of you running around making out with the Head Boy. Doesn’t look too good, to be honest. And I’m saying this purely out of selflessness, of course. If, on the other hand, you were to shed some light on this act and admit to...I don’t know...a lack of an imposter, it would mean a whole other thing—”

Lily slams him back against the wall, hand shoving his chest, mouth dangerously close to his. “Shut up, you’re rambling.” She smirks. “Just kiss me.”

And almost as if unable to sustain any patience to allow him to follow the directive, her lips crush over his in a kiss that somehow burns through his every molecule, scorching the very skin he wears, rivalling even the best kiss he’s ever had in his life, which was, incidentally, shared with the same person naught but two hours ago. Lily’s hand curls over his collar, twisting the fabric, giving her purchase to devour him alive. He reciprocates with a tightening grip on her waist, tilting her jaw, slipping his tongue inside to brush over the warm wetness of hers. A mad rush of breath, of gliding mouths and hands and softly uttered moans passes between them, the air under the cloak sweltering despite the cold outside.

Eventually, James wrenches himself away long enough to get the word out; her name. “Lily.”

“Mm,” she manages, lips on his cheek.

“I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”

The breathless sincerity of his tone gives her pause, and she pulls back, eyes dark and confused. “What?”

“Do you,” he swallows past the cowardice, the thump of his heart. “Is this happening for real? You actually want...me?”

A beat passes, a long one, and Lily stares and stares and stares. Eventually, a smile spills, and he’s reminded of that abyss; glittering endlessly. “Yeah, James. I want you. Wholly. Fully.” She kisses him again, trails the honey on his lips. “I’m just letting you enjoy this outing with the boys, because once we’re back at the castle…”

She’s trailed off, left him to articulate thoughts. “What then?”

Lily grins, glint of teeth so cruelly delicious that it steals his breath, especially when accompanied by the roll of her hips. “I’ll let you fill in the blank.”

#claudia writes #claudiawrites #jily #jily drabble #jily fic #jily canonverse #jily kiss #jily first kiss also I guess #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #jily flash fic #glittering darkness #hodgepodge #mlw10 #claudia answers #asks

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 4 years ago

Text

Navigating the Storm (1/4)

Summary: Emma Swan navigates the aftermath of Neverland by trying to deal with everything the way she always has, by locking all her feelings away. Between having to share Henry with two other people now, her parents confession in the Echo Caves, her parents pushing her towards a man she has no interest in, and feelings for another man that she never expected to feel, Emma is at the end of her rope. *Post Neverland - No Curse*

Author’s Note: Thank you to my friend @hollyethecurious for beta reading this story for me! I have had this written for about three months now and have finally put on the finishing touches. This is part 1 of 4 - I will post a chapter a week. Hope you guys enjoy!

Rated M 4.5K ao3 ffnet Under the cut, promise

It had been exactly two weeks since they’d stepped foot back in Storybrooke, since bringing Henry home safely from Neverland. Two weeks in which Emma Swan had had very few chances to just be, to just breathe. Each breath felt like it was choked by the need to scream or cry. Two weeks of restless nights and emotionally fraught days; parents urging her toward a man she did not want, her mom wanting a new baby, another mom wanting her baby, not that she held anything against Regina. Henry was as much Regina’s as he was hers, she knew that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t weigh heavily on her soul. And of course there was Neal, who had been an ever-present thorn in her side during the last two weeks.

Emma wanted to blame everything on Neal, it would be so easy, but she couldn’t do that, there was rarely only one person to blame. She had to take some responsibility, too. He’d been bugging her about giving their relationship another shot, about putting aside the past to make a better future for Henry. Each time, Neal’s words would hit the solid mass of her thick skull and bounce right off, while simultaneously invoking a silent wrath in her being. What the everloving fuck was he thinking? How could the two of them being together be good for anyone? It didn’t help that her parents both still thought Neal was a saint. It didn’t help that each time they unwittingly made little comments about her giving him a chance, it felt like a little more of the world weighed on her shoulders.

Each morning she dragged her feet getting out of bed, if only to delay dealing with the barrage of shit she didn’t want to hear about or deal with. Of course, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit the reason she was feeling like this was because she was effectively not dealing with any of it. But why choose now to be honest with herself, she’d been content to ignore every other issue she’d dodged in life, abandonment, intimacy, self-worth, why stop now?

Emma hadn’t felt emotional sadness like this since the days between finding out she was pregnant in prison and knowing she would have to give her baby up. Her body felt heavy, her mind felt clouded, and her soul was just… sad, there wasn’t a better word for it. She hated this feeling, and when the sadness became too overwhelming, anger often surged in, and no one needed an angry Emma Swan around. She loved her family and her family-by-extension, but she needed a break.

As she walked toward Granny’s at a molasses slow pace, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, head down, where she was meeting her parents, Neal, Henry, and Regina for a late dinner, her eyes filled with tears. She struggled to inhale air past the lump forming in her throat. A deep anger rose within her, mostly because she was pissed at herself for wanting to cry. She didn’t know how to make everyone understand what she was feeling and why she was feeling it. No one had ever taught her the healing power of communication, while growing up in foster care. As the anger finally defeated the desire to cry, Emma Swan did what all responsible folks do and locked that shit up, deep inside where no one would see it.

“I saved you a seat, Ems,” Neal offered as she entered the diner.

“Yeah, look mom, right between me and dad,” Henry piped in.

Emma glanced at the six of them, one seat between Neal and Henry, no doubt by design and one seat at the other end of the table by her dad. “Uh, I have to discuss a case with David,” she lied. And boy did that make her feel like Shittiest Mom of the Year. “I’ll come back in a few.”

Taking off her jacket, she sat next to her dad and began speaking with him about the new project they were working on to make Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department digital. There was truly nothing she needed to discuss with him right this instant, but she could not handle another manipulation by Neal, especially in front of Henry, about getting back together.

“Why don’t you go sit with Henry and Neal,” David whispered, “we can discuss this tomorrow at work.”

Sucking in a deep breath to tamp down the edge of anger that started to creep up on her, Emma realized there was a silver lining here. At least he had whispered.

“I’m perfectly fine where I’m at,” she quietly replied, affecting a sense of calm she didn’t really feel.

“Oh, honey,” her mother began in what was not a whisper, “go sit down there, let me get a picture of the three of you.”

And just like that, there was another brick piled on her shoulders. She understood that her parents really did want what was best for her. Why couldn’t they just magically understand that Neal wasn’t it? She could hear Neal trying to coax her over and her head started to spin. She really did need that break.

As she choked on the sob that wanted to escape, the bell above the entrance rang, and if she’d never experienced what being saved by the bell meant, she was right now. “Hook,” she murmured, just a little more breathlessly than strictly necessary.

“What?” Snow asked.

“Hook’s here,” Emma said. “Why don’t you join us for dinner, Hook?” Emma called over to him. He was just the buffer she needed tonight. She didn’t miss the intrigue in his eyes, which he quickly masked with a conciliatory smile that didn’t quite reach those pretty blue eyes.

“While I appreciate the offer, I don’t wish to intrude,” he answered graciously.

“You’re not intruding, we were just sitting down to eat a meal. Everyone has to eat.”

“Well, if all of their Royal Highnesses don’t mind,” he acquiesced.

“Everyone scoot one seat to their right,” Emma instructed, she didn’t expect him to sit next to Neal, not with the current state of affairs.

Snow stared at her daughter wide eyed and Emma just stared back through narrowed eyes, hoping that her expression conveyed, he did save your husband’s life.

“Ems, I thought you were going to sit with me and Henry,” Neal asked, failing to mask the irritation in his voice.

And I thought I was meeting you with the bag of watches, not the cops, Emma thought bitterly. If Neal was going to use Henry against her, he was going to be sorry. She wasn’t going to stoop to the level of using a child to get what she wanted, but she was also not going to be bulldozed by her ex.

“That’s okay, dad,” Henry intervened. “Mom can sit with her friend. How’s the fastest ship in all the realms, Captain?”

Emma beamed at her son’s cherubic nature. He was truly good. He was innocent and perfect, and she felt like she might cry again as her young son saved her again.

“She’s jolly good, m’boy,” Hook answered merrily, obviously tickled that Henry had asked about his pride and joy. Or maybe it was simply because this boy treated him with common courtesy. Hook had vowed to himself to turn over a new leaf when he’d turned his ship around to help Emma save her son, and although he knew that, most people still treated him like the pirate they’d known him to be.

“You okay, Swan?” Hook asked her quietly, as conversation started up around the table.

“I- yeah,” she said, slapping on a smile, and even though it was an effort to smile, she found that she wanted to smile for Hook. She also found that he knew she was lying.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’ve a never ending supply of rum aboard the Jolly.”

“I might just take you up on that,” she laughed. And it felt really good to laugh.

“I thought you said you’d back off,” Neal seethed as he walked over to their end of the table.

Emma looked between the two men before quietly sounding a warning. “We do not need another pissing contest here,” she hissed.

“Contest,” Neal fumed. “There is no contest, I’m Henry’s father, he’s a home-wrecking pirate.”

Emma’s head began to swim again as she listened to Neal berate Hook, as she read between the lines of what he’d said. He felt like he deserved her because they bore a child together.

“Is everything okay?” David asked.

Emma closed her eyes and weakly shook her head no. She would lose it if her parents got involved.

“Here Neal, why don’t you take my seat,” Snow offered.

Emma shook her head no again, but apparently no one was looking at her.

“Haven’t you destroyed enough lives?” Neal asked.

Emma’s eyes shot open and she’d hit just about her limit. Her throat felt like it was almost swollen shut as that urge to scream or cry or both, came raging back.

“Haven’t you done enough damage, Hook?”

“Bae-” Hook started

“Stop calling me that!”

“Neal,” Hook corrected, “it is not my intent to come between you and Emma. I was merely accepting the invitation she offered. I did say I would back off, I didn’t say I would ignore Emma if she requested my company.”

“Back off from what?” Emma asked, feeling a little annoyed that they’d been discussing her like a - she didn’t know what.

“Swan, I merely told Ba- Neal that I would not interfere if you two decided to pursue a chance at a family with Henry.”

“I think that is very noble, Hook,” Snow inserted.

“Not now, mom.”

“Well Emma, it’s only fair that you two have a real shot, now that you’ve been reunited,” Snow argued, “and I was just saying that I think it’s noble of Hook to put his feelings for you aside to give you and Neal that chance.”

That was it, that was her limit. Chances? Reunited? FAIR? The lights flickered twice before pitching Granny’s in darkness. Emma stood up and placed both her palms flat down on the table.

“Regina,” Emma said in a ragged voice, barely containing her emotions, which she desperately wanted to contain with Henry present. “Take him home, please.”

“Come on, Henry. I have lasagna at home,” Regina said, without having to be asked again. She could feel the energy of the situation sizzling about, and she knew only too well the magical properties of raw emotion. Of course Henry instinctively knew to listen as well. “Granny’s is closed,” Regina announced, “Mayor’s orders.”

The several patrons around had the good sense to slap some money on the counter and head out.

“I love you, mom. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Henry said as he and Regina readied to leave. He came to her end of the table and gave her a hug.

“I love you too, kid,” Emma responded as she ruffled Henry’s hair, and the lights flickered back to life.

Once Henry and Regina were gone, Emma eyed her parents. She tried breathing in and out slowly. She didn’t want to fight, she didn’t want to hurt them, she didn’t want to cry. But something had to give.

“Mom, Dad,” she whispered, as she knew her voice would crack if she attempted to speak in a normal voice. “I’ve been having a really-” a broken sob overtook Emma, halting her words. Her face crumbled, tears filling her eyes and falling to her cheeks, as the full weight of what she’d been dealing with overwhelmed her.

“Oh honey,” Snow cried as she stood up to try and comfort her daughter.

Emma held up a hand and shook her head no at her mother. “Please… don’t. I have to do this.”

Snow’s face fell as her daughter rejected her, but she sat back down to comply with her daughter’s wishes.

“Go on, Emma,” her father said quietly.

Nodding her head, she took another big breath. “I’ve been having a really hard time since we came back from Neverland. I’m happy that you want a new baby, I am, but it also hurt to hear that you wanted to have a chance to experience everything we never got to, and I know that’s not your fault, but it still hurts. And I am happy that Henry has Regina, because no matter what, she really does love him. But it hurts to have to share him with her when we have a third person to share him with now, it’s less time, when I’ve already missed so much.”

“It wouldn’t be if you spent time with me and Henry,” Neal muttered.

“Goddammit, Neal!” Emma yelled, pounding her fists on the table. “You have got to stop that. I’m struggling with my parents wanting a new baby and I am struggling with sharing Henry with you. But my biggest problem, the one that eats away at me every day, is you! I can’t stand the way you try to manipulate me in front of my son, making it seem like I’m the only reason we can’t be a family. You showed up to Storybrooke with a fiancée, don’t act like you came back here to win me over or some other noble bullshit. And I can’t stand that my parents think you should be my happy ending.” Another sob choked her words and she paused to catch her breath. “You will never be my happy ending,” she yelled before leaving the diner.

Emma jogged down the walkway, unsure of where to go, but knowing she couldn’t remain in there one second longer. She didn’t want to see the looks she’d put on her parents’ faces anymore and she didn’t want to deal with Neal. After an hour of wandering, she found herself down by the icy cold shoreline. She sat down in the freezing sand and folded her arms around her legs. Resting her chin on her knees, she lamented the fool she’d made of herself and the mess she’d made of things.

“Awfully cold for camping at the beach,” Hook said.

Emma jumped so hard, it hurt her butt when she landed back in the unforgiving sand. “Jesus Christ, you scared me. Are you following me?”

“Sorry, love,” Hook apologized, holding hand and hook in the air as he always did when she went on the offensive. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. And no, I am not following you. I was up on the deck of my ship and saw your golden hair in the moonlight; wanted to make sure you don’t catch your death out here.” He handed her a blanket.

“Thank you,” she said through chattering teeth, only now realizing just how cold it was. “You probably need to invest in some warmer clothes if you’re planning to stay in Storybrooke for the winter.”

“Is that an invitation, Swan?”

She just rolled her eyes as she held her hand out to him to help her up.

“Don’t worry your heart, I am plenty hot,” he flirted, extending his hand and pulling her up.

“You are plenty full of yourself is what you are,” she laughed. “I don’t know why I ended up here. I just… I cannot go home. I should probably see if Granny has a room available. Paying her some rent is the least I could do after clearing out her customers.”

Hook scratched behind his ear, his nervous habit that always made Emma chuckle inside, because how did The Captain Hook have a nervous tic?

“You could stay on the Jolly, if you like. You know, instead of walking back to Granny’s.”

“Is that an invitation, Hook?” Emma countered.

“Actually, it is,” he said as he bowed deeply, holding his right hand out in the direction of his ship.

She decided it was probably her best option for the night. She didn’t want to see her parents at the loft, she definitely didn’t want to risk running into Neal at Granny’s, and she was far too proud to ask Regina for a crash pad. So, she followed the direction of Hook’s extended hand and headed to the Jolly.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as they headed down into the Captain’s Quarters. It was only slightly warmer below deck, and she wondered how cold he got at night.

“Perhaps a little gratitude is in order,” he smirked, pointing his finger to his lips as he had done several weeks ago.

Emma didn’t even have to think about it this time. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and backing him up against the wall. She kissed him just as passionately as she had back on that Hell Island, but this time, she had no intent of limiting their activities to just a kiss.

“Swan,” he moaned against her mouth.

“Hmmm?” she hummed as she continued to learn his mouth and his tongue which had come out to play.

She loved the way his hook felt pressed at her back and the way his hand cupped her cheek before sliding into her hair. She took the opportunity to quickly run her hands up through his chest hair before shifting them up under his jacket to divest him of it.

“Swan, stop,” he whispered between kisses. “Stop, darling.”

Emma immediately pulled back. Like, what? “What’s the problem,” she asked defensively.

“I apologize lass, it was a poorly timed Neverland reference.”

“A… joke?” Emma’s head began spinning again. One million thoughts ran through her head as her brows furrowed and panic hit her eyes. Her mouth turned down as a strangle hold settled over her... rejection. She’d had one melt down and now she was damaged goods in his eyes. A one time thing, she’d said, and he was the one who was going to enforce it. “I have to go,” she muttered, mind already on auto pilot to the lovely land of orphans-aren’t-worthy-of-love.

Killian quickly blocked her path to the door. Bad move.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” she seethed. “You don- don’t want me...” Oh fuck, she panicked, the tears were going to start again. When would this roller coaster come crashing to a halt? Emma Swan, Dumpster Fire, she mused, it had a truer ring than Emma Swan, Savior.

“Don’t you tell me what I want or do not want,” Hook reprimanded. “I want you, I have wanted you, far more and far longer than you know.” He stepped into her space and lifted her chin with his hook, until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Make no mistake about that, love.” A fire burned between them, something palpable, and only by sheer force of will, was Hook denying himself the pleasure she’d been looking to bring him mere moments before.

Truth. Truth is what she saw in Hook’s eyes. “Then why are you pushing me away,” she asked, lips still quivering with the threat of tears.

“Because I won’t exploit your emotions, that would be the pinnacle of bad form.”

“What?”

Hook took her hand and led her to sit on his bed. “Emma, you just confessed major hurt and heartache to your parents. You obviously have unresolved issues with Bae, and you’re harboring a sadness that is ruling your emotions. Despite Neverland and everything that happened there, I have never seen you this close to the brink of despair.”

A tear slipped down as Hook brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “Look at me, Emma.”

She sniffled, but complied, as she realized he was not going to continue until she looked at him.

“You are strong, and you will get through this, but a quick romp in the sack is not part of the solution. I cannot in good conscience let you lead us down a path that you will undoubtedly regret. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.”

“If I don’t get to tell you what you do or don’t want, then you shouldn’t get to tell me what I will or won’t regret,” she huffed.

Hook smiled at the fire that lit his Swan, and continued on, “I did promise Bae that I would back off, I thought it was best for Henry, if it was what you wanted as well.”

“I don’t want that,” Emma interrupted.

“I know you don’t want that. Tonight made that clear,” he assured her. “But tonight also showed that you have some things to work out. I am here for you, Emma, and no matter what our future holds, I will stand by your side and help you traverse all of it. But where matters of our hearts are concerned, I cannot be your port in this storm if you only plan to pack up and set sail when the tide calms and the tempest parts.”

Tears surged forth once more as she lunged at Hook again, but this time just to throw herself into his embrace. She didn’t even know why she was crying, but she knew that this, him, everything he’d just said, this was what she needed. Someone to stand by her side, someone to accept her for her, someone who knew that she had shitty baggage but was okay with it and wanted to help her lighten her load. “I just want to forget, I want five minutes where I don’t feel like everything is closing around me like a vice.”

“That’s it lass, everything is going to be okay, I promise,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. “Let it out, crying can be quite cathartic when you let it.”

Emma cried a little harder as she listened to his soothing voice. She sat up many moments later when she’d cried herself out. Wiping away her tears, she looked at the man next to her. “How did you get so wise,” she asked in a nasally, I’ve-been-crying voice.

“How’s that?”

“About crying being cathartic.”

“Ah,” Hook chuckled as he blushed a bit. “You pick up some things as the centuries pass. I may have learned that sometimes letting out pent up emotion is better than harbouring it until it blows up.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered, before leaning in and tenderly placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You called me Killian.”

The bit of awe in his eyes made Emma giggle. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Aye, but you know what I mean, love,” he chuckled with her.

She laughed again until she was caught in a yawn that wracked her whole body.

“Let me get you something to sleep in.” Hook went to an antique armoire and pulled out one of his shirts and a pair of long johns. “These should keep you warm.” After handing them to her, he placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll let you get some rest, no doubt your day has been taxing.” Then he turned to leave.

Before he could make it to the door, Emma reached out to grab his hook. He turned around to see what she needed.

“Will you stay with me?”

His eyes pleaded with her not to tempt him into breaking his word. His good form.

“I promise I won’t jump your bones, sailor.” She rolled her eyes playfully, but then she glanced away and folded her arms around herself, a vulnerability encasing her whole form before she spoke again. “I just want you to hold me,” she whispered.

His chest ached for her, for this tender side of Emma Swan that he’d never been privy to. Why would he ever deny her something as simple as holding her? “Of course, love.” After changing into something passable for sleep attire, he joined Emma in his bed.

“I know this is going to sound sappy, but today, at Granny’s, when you showed up, I was on the brink of losing my mind,” Emma confessed as she lay snuggled against his side, his right arm wrapped around her, making her feel safe. “But when I saw you, I felt like… like I might be able to get through it, like everything would be okay, if only you were with me. That’s why I asked you to stay.”

“And did it help, having me there?”

“All I know is, even though I didn’t say everything I need to get off my chest, I did get through part of it, and I am glad you were there.”

“Happy to oblige, darling.” Hook craned his neck forward to place a kiss to the crown of her head.

Pulling the blankets up to her neck, Emma shivered. “Give me your other arm, you’re warmer than these blankets.”

“My hook,” he said, holding up the shiny version of his moniker. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally harm you.”

“Then take it off,” Emma responded as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“I don’t think so, love.”

“Why not?” she asked, sitting up to look at him.

Hook took advantage of his freed arm and scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s not a sight I wish you to see, it’s actually quite revolting.”

“I don’t believe for a second that any part of Killian Jones is revolting,” Emma said, gently pulling his left arm toward her.

“Swan,” he groaned.

“Killian, you saw me at my most vulnerable today, and you didn’t run for the hills. I won’t either,” she promised softly. “I don’t think you understand that what I like about you is this,” she placed her hand over his heart, “the man you are.”

Killian placed his hand over hers, where it rested on his chest and brought it to his brace. “Okay then, go ahead.”

Carefully unfastening the buckles, Emma pulled the entire brace away from his arm. She held his forearm in one hand and ran the fingers of her other hand over the scarred flesh, inspecting the damage. Although Hook was right, it wasn’t a “pretty” sight, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he would have had her believe. “Does it still hurt?”

“Aye, sometimes.”

She delicately massaged in a downward motion, from his forearm to the end of his wrist, and watched his face. He wasn’t making eye contact with her, but rather, watching her ministrations. He looked half panic stricken, like he might bolt, and half enchanted by her touch. She followed the pattern several times until he’d fully relaxed to her touch. “See, was that so bad?”

Hook’s face was a deep shade of red and his entire body had broken out in goosebumps. He didn’t know how to answer her question. He had never willingly let another person see his mutilated arm, let alone touch it. On one hand, it was that bad, he felt laid bare before her and he was still dressed. On the other hand, or hook, as it were, he felt something akin to what she had explained earlier, like he would be okay, because she was there. “I suppose not,” he murmured, all the more enamored by this enchanting woman.

“Good.” Laying back down, she wrapped both his arms around her and snuggled into him. “Much better.” Emma slept better that night than she had since they’d come home from Neverland.

Tagging some lovelies - please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells

#cs ff #cs fan fic #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fan fiction

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ex-silent-reader · 4 years ago

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Happy Holidays fic recs

Happy Holidays everybody! I haven’t been commenting on posts individually like i normally like to so it’s kind of backed up a bit. I still really want to thank all the authors who have been sharing their stories with us and leave a lil itty bitty comment before I can expand on them for their own post so here’s that! Also I’ve seen a lot of undeserved negativity being spread to a lot of authors and I just want to thank you all for sharing your work on this platform FOR FREE and remind you that you literally owe us nothing and I’m super grateful that you continue to share with us. These are just some stories that I’ve read this week, i’d def like to do another of these soon :)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any of these stories, each story is owned by the author tagged next to the title and the summary is pulled verbatim from their page, in quotation marks. The only thing I own is gratitude towards these authors for sharing their work with us.

Also all stories are rated M

Also, a loooot of stories have come out lately and I haven’t had a chance to get to a lot of them yet but i hope to soon so I’ll hopefully make another one of these soon, but yea pls know that I’m not purposefully ignoring or excluding anything or anyone.

Jin;

last christmas | ksj x reader - @xjoonchildx

“ summary: it was bound to happen, eventually. after months of near misses at barbecues and birthdays, there’s no avoiding your ex-husband at hoseok’s annual christmas bash. but it’s fine, totally fine, because you’re both adults – and you’ve both brought dates and booze. what could go wrong? “

This story was amazing! First of all, I love the comedy surrounding the entire situation, Hobi with his 8 trees and instigator Yoongi who also wants them to get their shit together for Hobi’s sake. I love all au’s but sometimes exes to lovers is difficult for me to side with because I don’t see how people can bounce back from so much hurt but in this story it felt very natural how they were able to find their way back together and I really enjoyed the insight to their relationship, especially near the end.

Yoongi;

CREAM & SUGA - @snackhobi

“summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.”

Ya’ll. Yoongi fics just truly hit different. The plot of this was so adorable and him going out of his way like that to keep her engaged was so cute and just very Yoongi like. I also just really loved the descriptions in this, like how oc described making the drinks, it just made everything seem so real.

universe | myg drabble - @personasintro

“❥𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; you’re his whole universe, you just don’t know it yet – or him”

ASDFGHJKL! Like, I really have no words for the way this made me feel. Like, ik it’s not a super healthy dynamic but the thought of a fixated Yoongi is.. I loved reading Yoongi being so fixated with oc and doing everything i his capability to meet her. I also was v interested in the part where he bumped into her and she didn’t react the way he expected because it made me think about how he (or any character’s with his mindset) cope when the fantast and reality don’t match.

Hobi;

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (M) - @kpopfanfictrash

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

This story made me feel so many things. Like there’s so many layers to it and both of their hurt, her visiting him and feeling betrayed while he felt pushed aside. This story was so complex and both characters had so many layers to them, but it’s still sooo well written and I was invested the entire time. Like, I genuinely can’t get my feelings out in a brief way so I’m looking forward to screaming about this in it’s own post.

Joonie;

my only wish - knj | m - @ppersonna

“✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug. “

UM! Absolutely adored this story, of course it would be a fellow cream suit enthusiast who can bring so much justice to dreamy Joon. I loved how he was portrayed here and getting insight to both his and oc’s feelings made me root for them soooo hard.

new parent syndrome - @1kook

“ SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)”

The tag “dreamy husband joon” is extremelyyyy accurate. This story was just so cute and their relationship truly felt so intimate and lovely. Her being on the phone with Jimin while Joon was smash SENT me but it was also so hot like ASDFGHJKL that man can do no wrong tbh.

laundry day - @snackhobi

“summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand. “

Pls this was so hot. Like, I’ve made it very clear thus far that I’m a total simp for Joon, the thought of that man going strawberry picking and thinking to grab some for oc genuinely makes me SWOON. He’s an actual heartthrob.

The Sweet in Sweet Potato - @sahmfanficbts

“ Summary: You’ve been roommates for years. Now that you’re catching feelings, it’s time to run away. “

This entire series has had me so invested but this chapter!!! I’m always a sucker for Joon but the way he was so clearly in her feels (for OC) but wanting to respect her need for distance, what a man. And I was so happy to see oc working through her feeling towards Joon.

Last Christmas (M) - @jjungkookislife

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

Damn, I really love when a misunderstanding is such a big catalyst for a bunch of drama/angst. It just really ups the tension for me because as the reader I know it was a misunderstanding but clearly the character’s don’t, so it just makes me really eager to see how they make amends. I really enjoyed seeing them slowly make amends and grow. Also the buildup to them deciding to give the relationship another go made the ending soooo satisfying.

Jimin;

picking petals｜pjm - @taestybae

“ summary ↣ you asked for a baby, so a baby is what you’re going to get. “

I really have no words for this, like it was so asaifgjhhkc. First of all, I really enjoyed that it was through his pov, i don’t typically read stories like that (I just don’t often come across them) but this still felt so natural that I didn’t even realize until right now, writing this comment. Also, the imagery was so well described and the anticipation built made this story so enjoyable.

Taehyung;

Deepest Indulgence - @scribblemetae

“ Description/Summary: The world is a mess, gangs, violence and rates of poverty are at an all time high since corporations took over everything. You built your Sex house to be a safe place and a sanctuary for those in need, promising to protect anybody who needs it. What happens when an extremely attractive and very rich man walks through the door begging for a job at Deepest Indulgence? The one sex house that wasn’t meant for men like himself. “

I AM SO EAGER FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER TO COME OUT. Like, idk how I can even describe this correctly but this just feel so much like Tae...???? Like idk if that makes sense but just Tae being this v sensual man, but there still being more to him than that, just makes so much sense and even the word “indulgence” is just so sensual and reminiscent of him. Also, the storyline so far is something I’ve personally never seen before and I’m super invested in this world and story already. Very eager to see how their relationship progresses.

let it snow | kth - @suga-kookiemonster

* Blog doesn’t allow copy/paste and I wanted to respect that*

It’s the way I read this last night, it took me exactly an hour (3am to 4 am cause I’m a CLOWN), and I was so invested that I kept putting off sleep to finish it. Man, i’m a simp for this Tae (just like he is for oc lmao). I really enjoyed reading it and the mention of Jisoo earlier in the story had me on the edge of my seat the whole time wondering when things were gonna blow up. Everything was just so sweet and fluffy, and the confession really made me feel so soft for them both cause they both were so in their own heads and feelings they couldn’t see what was in front of them so I really enjoyed the confessions.

Jungkook;

Thank you, baby - @scribblemetae

“ Turns out the boy whos been stalking you for years has decided its about time he shows his face in the form of a picture, and decides its time to talk to you for real, in the form of a phone call. “

I genuinely don’t know how I can simp over this story in a short way but I’ll try my best. The characters are so complex and the storyline is twisted so many ways that make this so interesting to read and easy to become invested in. The way Jk is written, I understand why OC is lost on how to feel for him. Like, his actions are wrong, but actually meeting him and even seeing his though process, it’s hard to make him out to be the villian that his actions have categorized him as. I can’t wait to continue reading and write a full length comment about this!

FEED ME, FIGHT ME. @yeojaa

“ What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend? (Aside from trouble, that is.) “

I really enjoyed this, I love how aware of Jk and his boundaries the oc is and how she is cautious to walk the line and not push him too far while also letting him know how his actions make her feel. This just genuinely felt like a glimpse into a very real, very intimate relationship/moment and I loved that. I also just really love how this is written and I think you have a beautiful way with words.

Chapstick - @softyoongiionly

“based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on. Or Jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you. “

Idk if I’ve ever said it before, but I just love how you write relationships. Like, I can feel how comfortable they are with each other and how natural being together is for them. With your stories generally it just never feels forced and I really love that. I also really liked that we got Jk’s pov in the beginning, getting to see how tense he was really made me eager for their interactions and for him to feel comfortable and calm with her. Their interactions just felt so cute and natural and the end, assdjfhi, jk really deserves to be cherished and I loved seeing oc get him to the point of relaxation.

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

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Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 2/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 2: Than Nothing at All

Killian reached for the loaf of bread on the shelf in front of him. Gathering each of the items on his list without much fanfare. He kept to himself mostly, not bringing any unwanted attention his direction. He smiled at the cashier, handing over the cash for the groceries and tipping his hat before heading to the exit.

“See you in a few months, Rogers.” The woman smiled as he opened the door.

He nodded silently and shut the door behind him. Trekking through the town streets, he kept his eyes to the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by him. Killian had no intention of befriending anyone in the town he visited every few months to pick up supplies before heading back to his home, hidden away in the lush forest.

He had his own garden, a well for water, and he had gotten used to living without electricity in his time spent at his cabin he built with his own hands. Only the items he couldn’t grow on his own required him to drive into the small town, purchase his necessities, and get back to his haven of solidarity before sundown.

He hadn’t always lived this way, yet he welcomed it now more than anything. His interactions were limited to the people he was forced to speak to in town during these visits. Killian was sure he wouldn’t have a single idea how to hold a conversation anymore.

There were days when he didn’t even hear his own voice, let alone use it to form a real sentence. Except for the times that he sought advice from himself or his dog, Jolly. In those cases, he found himself mumbling, sometimes he would answer for himself or the mutt and other times he would simply laugh for bothering to ask questions out loud in the first place.

He tossed the bags into the back of his truck, slamming the tailgate shut behind him. Climbing into the seat he pushed the key into the ignition but was stopped by a hand slipping into view of his open window.

“Afternoon, Rogers.”

Killian nodded to the man, “Sheriff.”

The man looked into the back of the truck, before turning back to face him. “Supply run?”

“Yes, sir.” He answered quietly.

“Bad weather headed this way.” The man pointed to the sky. “Looks like we might get some heavy rains, saying winter might be coming early.”

“Good thing I grabbed my supplies today then.” He said with a nod, turning the key in the ignition. The man kept his hand firmly attached to the vehicle.

“Yes, yes, good thing. Wouldn’t want you finding any trouble, Jones.”

Killian swallowed hard. “It’s my intention to stay out of trouble, sir.”

“See to it that you do.” The man patted his truck and walked back toward the sidewalk, turning to offer a simple wave as he pulled out of his parking spot. Killian was aware that the Sheriff knew of his past and who he actually was. The man kept a close eye on him when he visited town. Always making sure that Killian stuck to his routine and left as soon as he was done. He tried not to take offense, he supposed if the roles were reversed he would feel the same.

And Killian wasn’t looking for trouble. He’d had enough trouble for one lifetime, and he was determined to live out the rest of his life in peace.

Alone.

Killian drove down the dirt road leading into the forest. The breeze was picking up, blowing leaves across the windshield of his truck. A storm was brewing, and he would need to prepare the cabin and board up the windows. He parked the truck next to the small cabin, gathering handfuls of supplies from the back of the truck to carry into the house.

The door blew open, slamming into the side of the wall with the force of the wind. Jolly skipped toward him, panting, and howling at his feet. He set a few of the bags down, pushing the door shut with a slam, causing the frame sitting on the wooden table to fall to the floor with a crash. He sighed, scooping up the frame, slicing his finger on a shard of glass connected to it. He flinched at the pain, sucking his thumb into his mouth. Walking into the kitchen he sat the photo on the table, running water from the sink onto the wound. He grabbed one of the towels next to the sink, wrapping it around his hand.

When the bleeding stopped, he tossed the towel into the bin and sat down at the table, his eyes drifting over the photo lying on its side. His fingers absentmindedly grazed the faces that lay within the frame.

Being alone with his thoughts, his memories, were both a blessing and a curse. There were nights where he punished himself going through his past. Dredging up pieces of his life, remembering things that many nights he wished to forget, to burn from his brain. In the beginning, he spent his nights drinking, crying into his bottle of rum, wishing for things that he could never possibly have. But that was years ago, and he had long given up childish hopes and dreams.

He stood from his seat, taking the frame, and setting it into a drawer in the cabinet. Walking to the back door of the cabin, he grabbed the pole next to the door. With the storm approaching he only had a few more hours to get anything done before he would be holed up inside for a few days. He was in the mood for fish tonight, and if he wanted that, he needed to get a move on before the dark skies began spitting in his direction.

He trudged through the knee-high grass toward the small stream that produced the best catch. Tossing his line out into the water, he sat on the bank and raked a hand through his hair while he watched the line float out to the middle of the water, large circles rippling across the top of the pool as the rain began to fall.

Large drops began falling on his face, dripping down his cheek as the line sat still in the water in front of him. He sighed, watching the line dip into the dark waters. He reeled the line back in, casting it back into the center of the stream. Jolly stirred beside him, his nose sniffing the air.

Seems the fish weren’t biting tonight. He reeled the line back in slowly, watching the water ripple through the waves. When the line returned to him empty, he secured the line and stood up from his spot on the bank. As he prepared to leave, something caught his attention from the corner of his peripheral vision. Something bright caught on the edge of the bank near the rocks. He walked further down the embankment, trying to make out the shape of the object. Suddenly Jolly’s senses set him off as he ran down the side of the shore barking loudly.

As he neared the bright mass bobbing in the water, he noticed blonde locks swishing against the rocks. It was a person. Bloody hell. He waded into the water, feeling the frigid liquid stinging his thighs. He reached out, grabbing ahold of the black material wrapped around the woman’s mostly naked body. Blonde hair was wrapped tightly around her face, dirt and twigs mangled in her golden locks. He reached for her wrist, there was a slight pulse. The woman was alive.

Bloody hell.

He looked around. “Hello?” He yelled up stream. He had no idea where this woman could have come from, there was nothing around him for miles.

He put his hands on his hips, staring at the woman, contemplating his options. This was a complication he didn’t need in his life. If he brought a naked woman to town, half dead, wrapped in lacey garbage, they would throw him in jail and toss away the key. But if he left her here, she would most assuredly die. Looking down at Jolly, he groaned. “What do we do with her, boy?” The dog responded with a loud bark.

Shit.

He couldn’t exactly leave the woman out here to die, could he?

The rain was coming down in sheets, bouncing off her milky white skin as the pieces of black lace that were still attached to her body swirled around her.

Dammit.

Bending over he hoisted her over his shoulder, wading through the water until he reached the grass on his side of the stream. He lay her body on the ground, averting his eyes from her naked form. Regardless of the state of the lass, it was inappropriate for him to stare. Discarding his jacket from his body, he draped it over the blondes near naked form. Scooping her into his arms, he headed off in the direction of his cabin.

The woman’s skin was freezing to the touch, he was sure she had been in the water for hours. He had no idea how a woman would be in the woods, wearing what she was wearing, unless something was afoul. Thoughts of a killer or rapist lurking in his neck of the woods was frightening and problematic for him. With his history, he would be the first to blame if something evil happened near the small town he visited for supplies. The Sheriff was aware of his previous incarceration, he was a felon after all, and he knew that the Sheriff would always see him that way. He had seen the look of shame and disgust in the man’s eyes the first time he was summoned to his office after arriving in his town.

Six years ago

“Have a seat.” The Sheriff glared from his side of the desk.

“Is there a problem, sir? I was just stopping in for some bread and milk.” Killian tentatively took the seat across from the brooding man.

“Well, the problem isn’t why you’re here, it’s you being here at all.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

“We don’t get a lot of strangers in this town. I ran your plates the moment you crossed into our little haven.” He picked up a sheet of paper in front of him. “Killian Jones, 5 years’ incarceration for larceny, trafficking, and murder.” He let the paper fall to the desk in front of him. “We’re a quiet town, full of good people who just want to go about their business. We don’t get men like you in our parts.”

“I did my time, paid my dues. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just need some supplies and I’ll be on my way.”

“Just where are you staying, son?”

“I have some land, about 30 miles from here. Off grid. Mostly self-sustaining. Just need to purchase a few things now and then. I won’t be no trouble, sir.”

“See to it that you aren’t. Might not want to mention your name around here. Don’t want my town in a panic.”

“Yes, sir. I’m not here to make friends.”

“Good. See to it that you don’t stay long. I’ll be watching you.” The man rose from his desk, gesturing for Killian to leave which he was happy to do. He had expected to be treated as such, but it still stung feeling the man glare in his direction as he headed to his car.

Killian pushed the handle of the door and kicked his boot against the wood to shuffle into the cabin with the woman in his arms. Carrying her to the couch, he dropped her onto the sofa, rustling through the items in the room until he had an armful of blankets that he draped over her body to try and add some warmth to the woman.

Tossing a few logs into his fire, the room heated with a blaze as the flames broke the silence in the room with a crackle.

Looking back at the couch, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had nothing to dress the woman in that would fit her. He couldn’t exactly leave her naked on his sofa. Walking back over to her, he slid his hand under the covers, her skin still felt like ice. He was pacing over the same planks of his living room, over and over. Stopping in place, he tore at the buttons of his flannel shirt, pulling it off his shoulders and tossing it to the ground.

This is ridiculous, he thought. He’d watched too many movies in the past. But she needed to get warm, and quickly. He undid the button on his pants, letting them drop to the floor beneath him and cautiously approaching the woman lying still in his home. Lifting the covers, he slid in beside the woman. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Lass.” He said out loud, feeling utterly ridiculous talking to a woman who was clearly not awake to hear a word he said.

He pulled the woman on top of him, sliding her icy skin to rest against his warm body. Staring at the ceiling he laughed at himself. “First time you get a naked woman in your arms in years, and she’s passed out cold. Figures.” The woman’s head rested on his chest and he pinched the covers around their body, wrapping his legs around her lower half, hoping to transfer as much warmth as he could. He slid his arms around the woman’s upper half, resting his hands against her back and rubbing them in slow circles. It was an oddly sensual gesture, if not for the clinical nature of the entire reason he had this woman in his arms in the first place.

He could feel her heartbeat slowly against his chest, a good sign he assumed. Once she was warmer, he would need to dress her and examine her for injury. The sooner he got her up and out of his home the better. Hopefully when she woke up she could tell him where to drop her and he could be done with this mess.

He pushed the woman’s hair out of her face, she would need a bath and a brush through her tangled mess of hair, but looking at her face, he could see that she was quite beautiful. Whoever she was, someone must be missing her. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her body pressed against his chest, his hands languidly roaming her back and he cursed himself for letting his thoughts drift.

Killian, my love.

He woke with a start, the fire dwindling in the stone hearth. Grumbling to himself he moved quickly to remove himself from the woman still lying motionless on top of him. Pressing his hand to his boxers to try and control his hardened erection.

“Dammit.” He cursed, looking down at the woman and reaching for his clothes to redress himself. He tucked the blankets around her and searched his bedroom for clothing he could dress the woman in. He didn’t exactly want her waking up in barely a stitch of clothing and thinking he took advantage of her. He found a pair of sweats and sniffed one of his flannels to ensure it was clean and took to task at dressing the woman. He took his time, examining her for cuts, bruises, breaks, or anything that seemed out of the ordinary that he would need to attend to. He bandaged the scrapes at her knees, wrapped her right hand, and secured her left arm in a strap to keep her from moving it. He couldn’t tell but it was possible her leg was broken or dislocated. He would need to deal with that once she was awake.

Honestly, getting a woman out of her clothes had come easy to him in the past, but dressing a woman who was practically comatose, and limp was proving to be a challenge. When he finally finished the task at hand, he lifted the woman up and carried her to his bedroom. He had a small wood stove in the corner of the bedroom, and it would be easier to keep her warm in the tiny space.

Once she was settled into his bed, he fished a brush from his tiny bathroom and sat down next to her on the bed. He tugged the few twigs from her hair, lightly running the bristles through her locks to get out the knots. When she could care for herself she would want a full bath to wash away the dirt, but the least he could do was make her presentable.

Presentable for what, you fool?

Killian shook the thoughts from his head and laughed. “Well, boy, I guess we’re on the couch tonight.” The dog jumped up on the bed and circled his spot, snuggling his snout into the woman’s side and relaxing against her. “Traitor.” He snorted. “I guess that will keep her warm.” He walked out of the room, pulling the door shut until there was just a crack left and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

He sat at his table, staring down at the plate in front of him. He had really wanted fish tonight and instead he was eating peanut butter and jelly. The disappointment was greatly impounded by the fact that instead of fish, he found a bloody woman. He tried to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside of him, the worry about where the woman came from, how she ended up in the stream wearing hardly any clothing, who might be looking for her, and how quickly he could get her the hell out of his life.

He wasn’t used to dealing with people, much less the opposite sex. The last woman he had interacted with was that bitch of a prosecuting attorney, Regina Mills. The woman who stared at him like he was trash under her feet. She was almost gleeful when asking him questions on the stand, not even flinching when she held up poster size photos of Milah and Alice, their mangled bodies littered on the glossy paper for all to see. He had gulped down the tears that she accused him of faking, yelling in his face when he wouldn’t answer her questions about Neal fast enough. She was going to put him away for life. She bragged about it on the news every night.

He remembered her anger when the deal had been made, Killian would only serve five years for turning over states evidence and cooperating in the upcoming trial of Mr. Gold, the crime boss who reeked terror through Boston for the past 8 years. He swore he saw smoke coming from her ears when he walked out of the room after putting signature to paper.

He finished his sandwich, cleaning his plate in the sink and putting it away before leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He looked down at the drawer beside him, sliding it open with his finger and reaching in to pull out the frame. Smiles on the faces glared up at him. The memory of the happy day floating in his brain.

13 years ago

“Push me higher daddy.” The young girl squealed.

“If you go any higher Alice, you will fly away from here.” He pushed the small of the girls back, sending her upwards on the swing.

“I’d never fly away from you.”

He smiled and grabbed the swing and the small girl in his arms, pulling her toward him and snuggling into her neck. “I should hope not, my love.” The girl giggled and squirmed in his arms.

“Hey, can I get in on any of this?”

Killian smiled at his wife as she approached them. “What do you say Alice, does mommy need a hug?”

“Alice sandwich.” The girl screamed.

Killian scooped her out of the swing and the girl wrapped her arms around his neck. “Milah love, I believe our girl wants an Alice Sandwich.” The woman pressed against him, her arms attaching to his waist and a soft kiss set upon his cheek.

Killian placed the frame back into the drawer and slammed it closed. He hadn’t had these thoughts in years. He didn’t want them. Blowing out the candles in the kitchen he wandered through the house, peeking into the bedroom. Jolly lifted his head and then whimpered before lying back down. He stepped quietly into the room, feeling the woman’s hand, she was warmer now. Her pulse was stronger.

“Come now Lass, it’s time to wake up and go home.” He said softly, but there was no movement, no recognition, she simply exhaled slowly, as if she were lost in a peaceful dream. Sighing he let loose of the woman’s hand, patted his dog on the head and wandered from the room. Dropping down onto the couch, he slipped his shoes off and hunkered under the blanket. Tomorrow he hoped the woman would wake and leave him to his solace again. Having a woman in his home was dangerous, not only for his freedom, but for his mental health. He didn’t need to be having thoughts of a life that was no longer his, he didn’t deserve memories of hope or love.

Killian Jones was a villain and villains didn’t get a happy ending.

#waterfall memories #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au

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bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

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7. Home for the Holidays

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 10.1k

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Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: thank you for all the love lately!!! <3 u guys

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Harry and Y/N had discussed the idea of having some elaborate reveal that they were having a baby, but they decided to just do it in the fashion of buying onesies for their parents for Christmas gifts and letting their parents open them and discover the truth. Harry and Y/N spent hours one evening picking out onesies on Etsy that said things like “I love Grandpa!” and giggling over the prospect of telling their parents, excitement seeping out of them.

But first, Y/N knew she had to tell Hanna and Jamie. She suspected that they already thought something was wrong, after she had cancelled on all of their recent requests to go out for drinks. So when she asked them over to her apartment for dinner, she didn’t know what the mood would be. They arrived in normal fashion, though, Jamie bringing ice cream for dessert and Hanna bringing a bottle of wine for them to share.

When she plucked glasses from the cabinet—three, one for each of them—that’s when Y/N knew her time had come. “Not one for me,” she said calmly, turning away from the salad she was making.

Hanna looked at her, confusion across her face, and then at the wine. “But…it’s wine.”

Y/N nodded. “I can’t have any.”

Hanna gasped, the glasses dropping to the counter and barely avoiding cracking, and rushed to her friend. Jamie stood there, shocked, eyes flickering between Y/N’s stomach and her face. “You’re pregnant?” He asked finally, eyes wide.

She nodded, and Hanna dropped to her knees. “Can I touch?” Hanna asked softly, eyes on Y/N’s belly. She was the first person to ask, the first person who would feel the place where Y/N’s child was growing, but she didn’t mind. It was her best friend, after all. So she nodded.

“What’s it like?” Jamie asked, coming over to stand next to her, head cocked to the side.

“What, pregnancy?” He nodded. “Well, so far, it just means I can’t have wine and I vomit a lot. I’m also so fucking tired all the time.”

“When you were sick,” Jamie said, putting the pieces together in his head. “Shit.”

Hanna slapped him. “Stop it, you.”

“No, what is it?” Y/N asked, pushing Hanna away from her so she could turn to Jamie.

“I just…” Jamie ran his hand over his face, eyes flickering to her. “Harry knows?” She nodded. “And?”

“He’s over the moon,” she informed him, voice stern. She got it. He didn’t think Harry would want the kid, that she was going to be raising it alone. And maybe, if Harry wasn’t so goddamn stubborn, she would be. “I tried to tell him he didn’t need to be around, but he literally started crying at the prospect. He’s the one who convinced me to let him stay, to do it together.”

“Wow,” Hanna said, leaning against the counter. “I always knew he was wonderful, but that—that’s something else.”

Jamie reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “I’m sorry—I was worried about you. I’m happy for you, and Harry, as long as you are.”

She took his hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of it, something they always did to make up. “Honestly, I am. It’s not what I was expecting, but doing it with Harry, it’s not as bad as I was expecting. It’s actually kind of incredible.”

“Is the sex, like, insane?”

Her head swiveled to Hanna and Jamie gasped, swatting at Hanna’s shoulder. “Han!”

“What? Your hormones are like raging right? It’s got to be incredible.”

Y/N coyly smiled and this time both Hanna and Jamie gasped, their questions toppling over one another. She had never shared too much of her and Harry’s sex life with her friends, valuing his privacy, and that wasn’t going to change. But she did tell them, “It’s on a whole other level,” which earned clapped hands and shrieks. And she wasn’t lying. The added hormones raging through her bloodstream had her wanting him at every time of day, and Harry seemed even more infatuated with her than normal, touching and kissing her every chance he had. She couldn’t even count the times they had had sex in his kitchen, not being able to wait until they went upstairs, or the times he had dropped to his knees in the shower, desperate to taste her. Sex with Harry was always mind-blowing, good in a way she had never experienced before, but sex with Harry while pregnant neared an out of body experience sometimes. He could oscillate so well between kind, soft, cuddly, and this man who was simply dying to be inside of her, murmuring words in her ears that had her blood rushing straight down.

When her friends left, she called Harry and told him exactly what she had been thinking about, and he promptly drove to her apartment, not wanting to leave her desiring him and unable to quench her thirst. He took her on her bed, their teeth gnashing and hands scrambling over skin, Harry sucking harshly on her neck until she reminded him they were seeing her dad tomorrow, at which point he opted for a spot on her breast. Their increased size and sensitivity was driving Harry—and Y/N—mad, so he had his lips on them whenever he had the chance.

“How,” he exhaled as he drove deeply into her, the only sound audible in her room the sound of their panting and skin slapping, “do you feel better every time I’m inside of you?”

She knew what he meant. She could never tire of him, the way he fit inside of her, the way he touched her body, the way he made her feel. Fingers threaded in his hair and she yanked him down to her, begging for his lips to reach hers again. And when they did, she murmured, “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” against them. Harry groaned, deep and throaty, and pressed a deep spot that had her seeing stars.

Afterwards, Harry asked her to lay down and he slipped down her body, pressing his lips to the spot right below her belly button where their child rested. “Hi Peanut,” he whispered against her skin, Y/N smiling down at the sight of him talking to their child. “It’s Papa. Sorry if that disturbed you, just needed to show Mama how much I love her. I hope you can understand and forgive me.”

“Shut up,” she told him. “That’s much too crass for them still!”

“Shh,” he told her, finger to his lips. “I’m not done.” He bent back down and rested his hands on her hips. “Can’t wait to meet you. I’ve been dreaming about you, you know.” Y/N didn’t know that and she looked down at Harry in wonder, curious how she had gotten so lucky. “Dreamed you were a girl. Not that that means anything—you are whoever you want to be, Peanut. I’ll love you no matter who you are, always, unwaveringly.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” she whispered, hand curving over his jaw and tugging his head up so their eyes met.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her belly before crawling up to her face, fingers brushing across her flushed cheeks. “I wanted to tell Peanut first.”

“A girl, huh?” He nodded, and she smiled. “I’d like that, I think.”

“I think you’ll like whoever they are,” he told her. “Because they’ll be utterly perfect, just like you.”

She smiled into the kiss she gave him, hoping he knew that it wasn’t her they’d resemble in perfection, it would be him.

Harry was bouncing on his toes in both excitement and fear at the prospect of telling her father. He genuinely liked Peter, looked up to him even. Even as he grew older, he had managed to maintain his career, finding new and creative ways to make a living, which was not easy. Despite his success, he was still incredibly down to Earth and didn’t make you feel judged when you wrote with him—which was something Harry, as a relatively new songwriter, deeply appreciated. His imposter syndrome in the songwriting room was something he constantly battled, especially when he wrote with new people. But Peter put Harry at ease immediately, making suggestions in a way so Harry didn’t feel like an idiot, and praising him when he had genuinely good ideas.

So that was all to say, the last thing he wanted was for Peter to hate him for getting his daughter pregnant at 23.

Peter opened the door to his house beaming, the Motown Christmas Album playing in the background as Y/N and Harry stepped in, a flutter of hellos and hugs. “It’s been too long!” Peter said, giving Harry a clap on the back. “How was tour?”

“Good,” Harry said as Peter shut the front door. “Long.”

“Heard from Jeff you’re doing March to July this year,” Peter said, leading them into the living room where the tree was set up, the jolly holiday spirit wrapping around Harry like a hug. He and Y/N had decorate his place a bit, putting up a tree she went and got from the store and decorating it with ornaments, but he never went all out with decorating. Decorating any house that wasn’t his mom’s just felt wrong somehow.

Harry nodded, taking a seat next to Y/N on the couch, loving the way she leaned subconsciously into him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, should be a long one.”

“Didn’t know you and Jeff were friends,” Y/N asked her father, taking a sip from the hot coco her father had placed in front of them.

“Decided I should get to know him a bit better ever since you and this one started spending all your time together,” Peter said with a chuckle. “Especially since you don’t call enough and give me the information yourself.”

“That’s a lie,” Y/N said, glancing up at Harry as if to reassure him that she was, in fact, a good daughter. “I call him all the time.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair. He was an affectionate person, and he had always appreciated the fact that Y/N never pushed him away, always seemed to lean in for more. Made him feel even more loved by her.

Peter set down his own cup of hot chocolate and made his way over to the tree. “Now, I know you have to head up to your mom’s, so should we get started on the presents?”

Harry and Y/N had decided to go to her dad’s on the way up to her mom’s house, driving up a rental car and fly out of San Francisco to London to cut down on the amount of time they had to drive. It was busy on the highways and honestly, Harry hated driving for long distances in the states, but for Y/N he’d do it. Driving on the wrong side of the road was something he never could fully adjust to and doing it for hours at a time took the utmost concentration.

“Yes!” Y/N replied, grabbing their gift for him from her purse and setting it under the tree. “But I want mine first.”

Peter chuckled and dug around for Y/N’s, the red and green wrapping paper making Harry smile. He liked that Peter wasn’t perfect at wrapping but he still made an effort, the crinkles in the paper and jagged edge of the paper authentic and loving. “Hope you like it, doll.”

Y/N ripped open the paper, a green slim box revealing itself in the paper. She shook it like a little girl, which made Harry laugh softly next to her, before opening up the box. Inside lay three concert tickets to the upcoming Taylor Swift tour, which had Y/N squealing, launching herself into her father’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She said, giving her dad a tight hug, Peter’s full body laugh filling the room.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You never took me up on last year’s gift, so I decided to just make an executive decision. Harry, I know you’ll be gone, but I thought you could take Hanna and Jamie with you.”

Y/N nodded, a quick look to Harry that made his heart clench. “Yes, of course. They’ll scream when I tell them how good the seats are.”

Her dad chuckled. “I have no doubt.” Y/N gave her dad one last squeeze before settling back into her spot next to Harry, the way she interlaced her fingers with him sending him the message that She wished it could be him going with her, but she wasn’t mad. “Now, Harry.” Peter reached around the tree and grabbed a gift for Harry, wrapped up and looking like a book of some kind.

“Oh,” Harry said, reaching up to grab it, “thank you so much. You didn’t have to get me anything, though.”

“Nonsense,” Peter replied, waving the idea away. “You’re with Y/N, so you’re part of the family.”

Y/N shot him a knowing smile, the thought passing through both their heads at how right her dad actually was. Harry ripped at the paper, his fingers curving around a leather journal that quite resembled the one he lugged around with him everywhere he went. “Oh,” he said, looking up at Peter. “Wow. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Peter replied. “When we were writing I noticed you were about halfway through your old one, so I thought you were probably due to have a new one.”

He was right, in fact. Harry had planned to buy one back in London at his favorite shop, but it seemed that Peter had beat him to it, the mark on the back from the same place as his current notebook. “This is incredible,” he said, wiping at the tears threatening to spill from his eyes at the thoughtfulness. “So thoughtful. Thank you.”

Y/N threaded her hand through his, giving it a squeeze to remind him she was there and he glanced down at her face to help stitch his emotions back into place. “Now, Dad, we’ve got ours for you.” She scrambled up, grabbing the bag from under the tree that held their carefully selected onesie for him.

Peter ripped out the tissue paper, digging his hand in and reaching around for the gift. Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Harry who gave her a reassuring smile, reminding her with his eyes that Peter was going to be happy for them, just as they had discussed. “Oh!” Peter said when he pulled out the onesie that said “#1 Grandkid” on it and an ultrasound photo they had had printed for him. Tears welled in his eyes, looking up at Y/N and Harry in disbelief. “Really?” He asked, words breathless.

Y/N nodded and Peter yelped in excitement, rushing to grab them both into hugs, a flurry of love and warmth they desperately needed. “Due in June,” Y/N told him.

“Summer baby,” he said, to himself looking back down at the ultrasound photo in his hand. “Good. Could use one of those in this family.”

Harry laughed and Peter reached out, a soft hand on Harry’s cheek. “Welcome to the family, son.”

The word made Harry’s heart clench, the thought of being a permanent part of Y/N’s family a prospect too good to be true. “Thank you,” he replied.

Peter proceeded to pepper them with questions, cracking a joke about how he almost got Y/N a crate of wine as a joke from last Christmas but was glad he didn’t, and they chatted about what he was going to be called. They decided on “Pop”, something short and sweet, and a shortened of what Y/N had called her grandfather before he passed. Over brunch they talked about their upcoming trip to England and their plan to tell Y/N’s mother that evening. Peter nodded at the sound of his ex-wife’s name, and Harry thought for not the first time about the fact that both he and Y/N had parents who were divorced. He hoped it wasn’t a sign for him at Y/N—he wanted to stay with her forever. They hadn’t talked about the idea of marriage, but it was something playing at the back of his mind ever since they’d learned they were going to have a baby.

He didn’t want to get married just because of their child, but at the same time, he loved Y/N and couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else. She challenged him, loved him, made him a better person. Made him laugh like crazy, bought him all the weird foods he liked, gave the best massages. Reminded him that he had a life outside of work—a life he loved. The prospect of marrying her wasn’t scary to him. In fact, it sounded like heaven.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch Harry as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, one on her knee. At first, he did it because she was bouncing her knee up and down, but then kept it there, and Y/N suspected it was because of the same reason that her fingers crawled up his forearm: to feel his skin under her fingers. The drive was long, probably eight or nine hours, but she didn’t mind it—nine hours to spend with Harry’s undivided attention, the coast whipping by them.

They got on the road by noon, hugs and teary eyes as they said goodbye, and she texted her mom they’d be there at nine and would grab dinner on the way, so no need to wait up for them for dinner. Harry told her to DJ and she put on their playlist first, belting out lyrics to all of their favorite songs, Harry even using her water bottle that sat in the center console as a microphone. His seat dancing had her laughing hysterically and his smile never seemed to fade from his face as they drove. After the playlist ended, she put on the NPR podcast she had been listening to lately, and Harry asked her political questions, still trying to wrap his head around American politics.

They stopped for dinner at In-n-Out and Y/N took the wheel for the remaining two hours of the drive, since she knew it by heart and Harry was getting a bit stressed. They switched shakes back and forth as she drove, chattering about their favorite holiday memories as kids and laughing at their embarrassing moments. She loved glancing over and seeing Harry’s eyes already on her, a twinkle in his eye she knew well—it was the one where he was overwhelmed by his feelings for her. He had told her one time when they were wrapped up on his couch and she asked him why he was staring at her like that, and it had made her pull him into a deep kiss, much like the one she wanted now. But she was driving, so she settled with kissing the back of Harry’s hand, the smile he gave her settling deep in her heart.

The porch light was on at her mom’s house, the simply blue post-war bungalow the perfect place for her mom to have moved into. It was the right size for a single woman and her dog, June, who they’d gotten shortly after her and Y/N’s day got divorced. Y/N usually stayed in the guest room, which she didn’t mind too much—she was proud of her mom for making a new life for herself in San Francisco. It just meant her bedroom at her dad’s house was even more special to her, the one remaining shred of her childhood.

“Nervous?” She asked Harry. He’d met her mom once, back in the summer before he left for Dunkirk press. They’d gotten on famously, but they definitely weren’t as close as Harry and her dad. One time she’d walked into his house to find him on the phone with her dad, jabbering about songwriting and the brilliance of Stevie Nicks.

He shut the car door behind him and walked to the trunk, popping it open. “A bit, yeah.” He pulled out their suitcases and shut the door, looking up to where she leaned against the car. “I just don’t want her to think I’m horrible for getting her daughter pregnant, ya know?”

Y/N scoffed, and walked over to him, hands on his cheeks. “H, it’s not like you were the only one having sex. It’s a two-way street—I’ve got just as much responsibility in this as you.”

He nodded, leaning into the press of her fingers on his skin. Together they walked up to the front door, Y/N knocking softly. The door swung open not even a minute later, her mom standing there beaming at them. “Mama!” Y/N wrapped her mom up in a hug, her mom’s blunt bob swinging as they rocked back and forth. Her mom was a hugger, always had been.

“Hi you two,” her mom said, embracing Harry next. “Come in, you must be exhausted from the drive.”

They made their way inside, the screen door slamming shut behind them. Inside it felt like her mom—a winter candle burning on the counter, the news softly running on the TV, a blanket thrown over the couch. A glass of wine sat on the coffee table half-empty and Y/N looked at it longingly. How was she going to make it until June without a nice relaxing glass of wine at night?

Harry was talking to her mom, telling her about the drive and how they’d stopped for burgers, her mom telling him about her preferred In-n-Out order. “Let me take you back to the room,” she said, and Y/N and Harry trailed behind her to the guest bedroom where a fresh set of sheets adorned the bed, a soft glow from the bedside table lamp. “Here you are,” she said, leaning against the wall as Harry set up the suitcases in the corner. “I’ll let you guys settle in for a minute. I’ll be in the kitchen, okay?”

Y/N nodded and her mom left the room, shutting the door behind her. She looked to Harry, who was sitting on the bed, a lingering gaze on her face. “What are you thinking about?”

“Didn’t realize you didn’t have a bedroom here.”

Y/N glanced around the room, the nondescript art making it obvious that it wasn’t Y/N’s room. There were no traces of her in it except for the framed photos on the dresser of her and her mom from her childhood, the ones her dad’s best friend had taken when she was seven. “When she moved up here it just didn’t make sense,” she explained. “Only two bedrooms, after all.”

“Mhm,” Harry said, grabbing her waist so she could nestle between his knees. “Kinda liked the idea of sleeping in your childhood bed.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she murmured against his lips, bending down to kiss him. “Well, don’t worry, we’ll be sleeping in yours to make up for it.”

He nudged at her neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there, a soft gasp leaving Y/N’s mouth. “Can you believe I’ll have my girl and my baby in bed with me?” He kissed the juncture of her jaw and neck and she carded her fingers through his hair, loving the way his eyes fluttered shut from the touch.

“Lucky man,” she said.

He kissed her one more time before saying, “Got that right.”

Hearing her mom in the kitchen, she pulled away from his grasp. “We should go out to my mom.”

“Gonna tell her now?” He asked, standing up from the bed.

Y/N considered it. It was late, but she couldn’t very well stand in her mother’s house and pretend. “Yeah. I don’t want to pretend.” She bent down, unzipping her suitcase so she could pull out her mom’s gift from where it was tucked in between her clothes. With a kiss between her shoulder blades, Harry followed her out of the room, their gift held tightly in her fingers.

She was nervous, she had to admit, as she walked into the room. Her mother had always wanted her to wait until she was older to have kids, to have a full career and life before she started a family. But she didn’t think that her mom would be unhappy with her once she told her—her mom had always been there for her, through thick and thin, every step of the way. This was changing Y/N’s life forever, so of course her mom would be supportive, she told herself.

“Mama?”

Her mom’s head popped up from where she stood at the sink, washing dishes from her dinner. “Room okay?” She asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Great,” Harry answered, hand squeezing Y/N’s. “We wanted to give you your Christmas gift, actually.”

“Oh!” Her mom’s eyes widened, eyes darting to her small tree nestled in the corner of the living room. “Thought we could wait for the morning, but that’s fine. Can I get you anything? Wine, water?”

“Water is perfect,” Harry replied. He had promised to abstain from the same things she had to, a promise Y/N wasn’t sure he would be able to keep but loved the idea of. He had been so sweet when he’d made it, pushing the bottles of wine to the back of his pantry and swearing he wouldn’t touch a sip of alcohol until the baby was born.

Her mom filled two glasses with water and together they all migrated to the living room. Y/N could feel her heart hammering in her chest. This was more anxiety-inducing than telling her dad, who she knew wouldn’t say a word to her about it, be nothing but supportive. But her mom had a tendency to be a bit judgmental, a side Y/N had experience a few times in her life and one she hated. She swallowed her fear, though, and handed her mom the paper bag, the tissue paper crinkling in the room.

She leaned into Harry’s side as her mom opened the bag, thankful for the comfort of his arm wrapping around her waist softly, the reminder of him being there to support her.

Then her mom pulled out the onesie, “I <3 Grandma!” embroidered on the front, flowers all over the material, and her mom yelped in surprise. She looked up at the two of them, eyes wide, disbelief all over her features. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, unsure how to read her mom’s reaction.

“This isn’t a prank? I’ve seen them on the internet before.”

Of course she had. “No, Mom. It’s real.”

Her mom didn’t said anything for a bear, her eyes flickering between the onesie and Y/N, and then to Harry and back down. “Congratulations, honey,” she finally said. “Harry, can I talk to Y/N alone for a bit?”

Harry stirred against her. “Uh, of course. I’ll be in the room, okay, love?” He pulled away, a lingering kiss to her head, and left the room, leaving Y/N and her mom alone.

When the door clicked shut, her mom finally spoke. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied without even thinking. “I thought a lot about it before I even told Harry, and we talked about it once I told him. He wants this baby, and so do I.”

“But your career,” her mom said, voice hardening and the sound making Y/N stomach curl. “It’s just starting out. Won’t this affect it at all?”

“I can still be a mom and work,” she said, pointedly. “You did it, after all.”

“I was 33 when I had you,” her mom reminded her. “You’re only two years out of school.”

Y/N sighed. This was the exact reaction she didn’t want from her mom, but at the same time it didn’t surprise her. “This wasn’t in the plan and I know the timing isn’t great, but I want to have this baby. I love Harry and he’s going to be an amazing father.” Her hand slipped down to cup her belly, where a bump wasn’t quite apparent but would be soon enough.

“When he’s here,” her mother said and Y/N glanced up from her belly to her mother, whose expression was blank.

“What does that mean?”

Her mother gave her a pointed look. “You know exactly what that means, Y/N. You’re going to be essentially a single mom. It’s not even like it was with your dad—Harry’s one of the most popular celebrities in the world. How is he going to be able to be here for you? For your child? And what about privacy—have you even thought about what it’s going to be like to raise a child in the public eye? How are you going to have playdates and send your child to school and let them live a normal life? It was so hard for me—you saw that. It was hard on you to have your dad gone all the time, and you always told me how you didn’t want that. And now here you are, doing it all over again.”

Y/N could feel her heart beating faster, the anger rising in her body. She hated it when her mom spoke like this about her father, as if all that happened in her life was all because of her dad, but she knew it wasn’t true. She loved her father, always had, despite her mother’s attempts to sow seeds of discontent in her. “Harry isn’t my dad,” she said, trying to keep her voice measured, but failing miserably. “He wants this child, Mom! I tried to shut him out, tried to force him to leave, and he wouldn’t let me! He wants to raise this child and he wants to raise it with me. We talk about things, you know—it’s not like you and Dad, living in a house where you don’t even talk to one another.” Suddenly it was spilling from her, all the things unsaid over the years, her anger at her mother’s attack on not only herself, but on Harry who had been nothing but good. “You don’t know Harry, so how dare you paint him to be someone he isn’t.”

“He may want this baby now,” her mother said, a lace of venom dripping from her words that Y/N hadn’t heard in years. “But what about whenever you’re telling him he can’t tour because you need help? And what about whenever you’re left at home, taking care of a child while the father of your child is off gallivanting across the world? Will you still want him around then?”

She pushed herself off the couch, the desire to argue with her mother not something she wanted to play into. She just wanted to get out of there, to grab Harry and go. The way her mother spoke to her about Harry made her see red, and she didn’t want to hear it anymore.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Y/N.”

At the sound of her mother’s words, Y/N whirled around, staring her mother straight in the eyes. “I’m not a child, Mom. I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve thought long and hard about this decision, about how my life is going to change, and this is the decision I made. This is the decision I made with Harry. We’re talking about his tour, how he’s going to do it. We’re talking about the life we’re going to have together. But I also know who he is—he loves what he does, and I love that it makes him happy. I can’t ask him to give it up, even if it would be easier, because it’s part of who he is. If he didn’t have that, he wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.

“I don’t care what you think about this,” she said and she realized the words were true. Her mother’s opinion of her didn’t matter nearly as much as it used to and she didn’t know when that had changed. “I’m doing this and I would love your support, but if it’s not there, I’ll be okay. But I’m not going to sleep under your roof while you speak about the man I love like that.” And with that, she spun on her heel and walked down the hall, heading straight for the guest bedroom where Harry was waiting for her.

When she pushed open the door, Harry was already on his feet, walking towards her. “We’re leaving,” she told him, ignoring the arms he held out for her. “Now. We’ll find a hotel—I just cannot be here with her right now.”

Harry nodded, not fighting her on it. He had probably heard the entire fight—the walls in her mother’s house weren’t thick. He helped her zip up her suitcase and find her phone that she had plugged in, tucking everything into her purse without a word. They left the room they had barely even settled into, suitcases behind them as they walked down the hall.

Her mom stood in the same exact spot, staring as they walked towards her. “Please, Y/N—“

“No,” she said, cutting her mom off. “I came here hoping you would be happy for us, but if you aren’t that’s okay. Just don’t call me until you are ready to welcome Harry, and our baby, with open arms.” She unlocked the door and pushed the screen door open, holding it as Harry exited behind her.

“Wait,” Harry said as she went to close the door. He pushed it open and stepped into the house, Y/N watching as he looked her mom straight in the eye. “I love your daughter, Trisha,” he said, “and I’m not going anywhere. I cannot wait to have a family with her, to love her for the rest of my life. And I hope you can come to accept that.” He pulled the door shut behind him, Y/N watching him with wide eyes and love in her heart. “Come on,” he said, tucking his hand in hers. “Let’s go.”

He pulled out of the driveway wordlessly, holding Y/N’s hand tight over the console. “I love you,” she said, her words making Harry glance at her. “Endlessly.”

With a soft kiss to her hand, she knew that she had made the right decision. “I love you more,” he said.

They found a hotel downtown, Harry running the room on his credit card despite her protests, and took the elevator upstairs to their room. Y/N was exhausted from fighting with her mom, even if it wasn’t long. She hated arguing with people, but especially her mom. And now she was sitting on a hotel bed as Harry set up their room, running through the argument in her head over and over again, playing over each of her words, analyzing each with precision.

“Baby,” Harry said, crawling across the bed behind her so his body surrounded hers. “Come shower with me.”

She leaned back into his body, letting him absorb her weight. “I can’t believe she said those things.”

“Me either,” he agreed, “but can we shower and then talk about it? Know you’ll feel better after.”

“I guess,” she said, letting him pull her off the bed and guide her into the bathroom, the look on her mother’s face when the door slammed shut behind her in her brain on repeat.

With delicate hands, Harry untied the laces of her Converse, peeling her socks off and not reacting when she tried to get him to stop, worried her feet smelled. Instead, he looked up at her and said, “Bit past that, love.” He pulled her sweater off, then her loose-fitting jeans, then made her turn around so he could unclip her bra and shimmied her underwear down her body, leaving her naked in the hotel bathroom. He shed his clothes in rapid time and turned on the shower, warm water cascading down from the shower head. “C’mon,” he said, stepping in and beckoning to her, his curls flattening under the water. “Let me wash your hair.”

The prospect sounded divine, so she followed him in, letting him position her so she was directly under the stream. He hummed a tune she hadn’t heard before as he squirted the hotel shampoo in her hair, running it through her locks tenderly.

“What’s that?” She asked, bobbing her head back so he could get better access to her locks.

“Hm?”

“The song that you’re humming.”

“Oh,” he said, pushing her head forward to let the water rinse out the shampoo. “Wrote it a few days ago.”

Conditioner was next, a blob in his hands before he started massaging it into her hair. “What’s it about?”

He was quiet for a minute, untangling each of the knots in her hair like he knew she did. “Our baby,” he said, words so quiet they were almost lost under the stream of water.

She turned around in his hold, eyes fastening on his. The water was warm on her skin as she looked up at him, wonder in her brain at the sweetness in his eyes as he ran his fingers up and down her arms. “Really?”

He nodded, a flush to her cheeks that she adored. “Woke up in the middle of the night and the tune just…came to me. Don’t quite have all the lyrics yet, though.”

Without a pause, she pulled his body into hers, struggling to find the way to show him how that made her feel. “Will you play it for me when it’s done?”

“It was goin’ to be your birthday present,” he mumbled.

“I guess I’ll wait,” she told him and turned back around to let him continue washing her hair. “I meant what I told my mom.”

“Hoped so.” He brushed his hand through her hair to let the conditioner run out of it. “Nearly made me cry.”

“Why?”

He paused. “So different from when you first told me,” he said, words rough in his throat. “To hear how you feel now, how you defended me to your mum, it meant a lot to me.”

“H,” you said, “I love you. No matter what.”

He didn’t reply, but she knew it wasn’t because he didn’t feel the same way, but because if he told her he would cry. She could hear it in his words, feel it in the air between them. Instead, he showed her how much he loved her by lovingly pulling out the knots in her hair, by washing every inch of her body, by even helping her shave her armpits, by wrapping her up in a hotel robe after and rubbing lotion into her skin. He passed her a toothbrush with toothpaste on it and side-by-side they brushed they teeth, soft gazes in the mirror. And then he turned off the light and pulled her into bed next to him, arms surrounding her body and holding her as she cried, her mother’s words swirling through her thoughts. He pressed kisses to her hair and murmured how much he loved her, how proud he was, what a great mother she was going to be. With each touch he helped heal her heart, push the words away, focus on the truth: that she was happy with him, no matter what anyone tried to convince her of. She just hoped he would stay around even when she doubted it.

The drive to Holmes Chapel brought Y/N peace, the English countryside a warm embrace, the settled and peaceful look on Harry’s face making her smile as he drove. She had been ignoring text messages from her mother since she had woken up, and being away from Wi-Fi meant her phone wasn’t buzzing with text messages and phone calls every few minutes. Suddenly, Y/N was thankfully for the fact that she didn’t have cell service in England, because it made her push away her worries and focus fully on Harry.

He was describing his mother’s home to her. The furniture collected from charity shops over the years, Anne having a knack for finding the thrown away and giving it a new home, despite his many offers to buy her new furniture. She liked filling her house with stories of the past, of considering the life a side table or a throw pillow had before it found her. Y/N thought it was quite sweet, and from what she knew about Anne it didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Gemma and her boyfriend Michal were going to be there when they arrived, both of the Styles children bringing home their significant others, something which apparently Harry hadn’t done in a while. When he revealed this, she smiled and told him that she was honored to be there.

It was a three hour drive that passed quickly, since Y/N fell asleep about halfway in, her head lolling on her shoulder as the countryside passed by. She woke to Harry’s voice, murmuring, “We’re here, love,” in her ear and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Time to go give my mum the surprise of her life, yeah?”

That idea woke Y/N up right away. She was admittedly nervous to tell Harry’s mother, especially after how telling her own had gone. Although from what she knew of Anne and Harry’s own accounts, Anne seemed to be much more willing to go with the flow, surprises rolling off of her quickly after years with Harry Styles as her son. So she tried not to dwell on it as Anne and Gemma rushed out of the house, enveloping Harry into their arms and then Y/N, a flurry of hugs and kisses to the cheeks that had her feeling like she was being welcomed home.

The house was smaller than Y/N expected, but somehow perfect. A wide white door and a lovely patio outside, white framed windows that reminded her of her own childhood home. There was red brick she loved and a large tree outside. “You look beautiful, dear,” Anne said, an arm around Y/N’s shoulders as she guided her inside. “Glowing, you are. You must tell me your secret!”

Pregnancy, she thought to herself, but instead just said, “Lots of moisturizer,” which had Anne chuckling to herself.

The house was just as Harry had described. Laden with rugs and family photos, a few of Harry’s awards on the walls, displayed with pride. A giant Christmas tree sat in the corner, hung heavily with ornaments and tinsel, Y/N smiling at the sight of an ornament with a young Harry’s face on it, her having a nearly identical one at home on her mother’s tree. Although she didn’t have time to notice it. “So this is it.” She turned and found Harry standing behind her, watching her study his childhood home. “What do you think?”

“It’s exactly as you said,” she replied. “I love it.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Want to see my room?”

“Desperately,” she replied, which had Harry chuckling.

“Mum,” he called into the house, “I’m going to show Y/N my room. Be back in a jiffy.”

“Don’t make too much racket!” She heard Gemma holler through the hall, “These walls are thin, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“Shut it!” Harry replied, Y/N laughing at their exchange, it making her wish for not the first time that she had a sibling. “Come on, love.”

They climbed the stairs, Y/N commenting on his yearly school portraits that decorated the staircase, which he tried to cover her eyes for so she couldn’t see them, but she managed to wrangle free. She had to admit that Harry was a downright adorable child, although when she looked at his face—dimple and crinkled eyes from laughter, she wasn’t surprised. The thought had her considering what their child would look like, which she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of.

“Whatcha smilin’ about?”

“Thought about what our child would look like,” she said softly, Harry’s eyes lighting up at the thought.

His hands found her waist, tucking her close to him, her back pressed against the wallpapered walls of the second floor. “And what are you thinking?”

“With your face,” she said, a finger running down his cheek, “and my brain, they’re going to be unstoppable.”

He frowned. “But your face is nicer.”

“They have to have your eyes,” she said with a pointed look. “I’m not willing to compromise on that. And your dimples.”

He smiled at her, the dimple in question popping out. “My dimples, eh?”

“Mhm,” she murmured. “Quite like them.” She stuck her index finger into the depth of it, the chuckle escaping his lips warming her body that was still cold from the December chill.

“I’ll allow it as long as they have your ears and your lips,” he said, a lingering kiss pressed to the latter. “Now let me kiss you in my childhood bed, for Pete’s sake.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she said, and let him lead her into his room. It was an alcove room, one he could barely stand up fully straight in, and somehow it suited him. The walls were a simple cream, but covered in posters of bands from eight years ago, when life was simple and he was still sixteen. An overstuffed bookcase sat against one wall and an oak dresser, most likely empty, sat next to it with photos of him and his family scattered across it. The main attraction though, was the bed, an oak headboard attached to it with plenty of pillows and a checkered duvet cover that reminded her of the ones she had seen in the dorm rooms of boys at college.

“Well?” Harry asked from where he leaned against the closed door. “Is it how you imagined?”

She turned and she couldn’t help herself—the appearance of Harry in a beanie and an oversized sweatshirt in his childhood bedroom with a shit-eating grin on his face made her want to have him in every way possible. “Better,” she replied before backing up until the back of her thighs hit the edge of his bed. “But better if you eat me out on your childhood bed.”

“Fuck me,” he breathed, feet moving quickly to reach her, hands on her cheeks before she could process it. His lips were sweet, wet from when he’d licked them before pulling her in, and his palms were calloused against her skin. But he felt like Harry—her Harry—and that’s all that mattered to her. With a nip at her neck, he fell to his knees in front of her, eyes darting up at hers as he shimming off her leggings and the blue cotton underwear underneath them. “Like these,” he mumbled against the skin of her inner thighs. “Might have to keep them.”

She gasped when his tongue licked up the length of her slit, the sensitivity from not having him on her skin in the past few nights combined with the raging hormones in her bloodstream had her keening for him. “They’re just cotton,” she said through gritted teeth when he sucked on her clit, toying with her. “Harry, Jesus.” “Not my name,” he smiled against her and Y/N couldn’t help but tug on his hair as if to tell him Shut it you narcissist, which just made Harry chuckle. The vibrations sent shockwaves through her body, her head falling back as a moan of his name left her mouth. “Gotta be quiet,” he reminded her, shoving two fingers in her mouth that she quickly accepted, lolling her tongue around them like it was a lollipop. The sight had Harry bucking into the end of the bed, which Y/N just grinned at, not missing it for a second. When Harry had his mouth on her, she couldn’t look anywhere else.

Then he darted his tongue inside of her and Y/N’s hand went to her breasts, which had grown from her pregnancy and Harry didn’t seem to mind, adoring how sensitive they were. “More,” she begged, voice rough in the room. “Please, please, H.”

“Comin’ love,” he said, sucking on two of his fingers before pressing one to her slit, the cold feeling of his rings on her hot flesh making her gasp. “Like that, baby? Like it when I fuck you with my fingers, my rings still on? The fingers you just had in your mouth?”

“Harry,” she groaned, trying to contain the sounds threatening to escape her. Not being able to hold up her body anymore she rested on her hands, propping up her body on his mattress. She knew that it made her breasts stick out, which Harry loved—he was a man, after all—and the sound of him grunting at the sight made her smile at him coyly. “Like the view?”

He sucked on her clit in response before twirling his tongue in a cruel circle around her labia. “Love the view,” he muttered against her, spit falling from his mouth. “Love you, baby. Fuck, look at you as I fuck you—like you’re made for me.”

“Close,” she said, the sound muffled against her hand she had thrown over her mouth to keep the sounds in. She was leaning on just one hand, unsteady and about to let go if he let her. She loved to let him control her orgasms, the sound of him telling her to come always sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Yeah?” He said, inserting another finger and curling them so she was bucking against his hand, his name an echo on her tongue. “Come for me,” he murmured, fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady, his rings imprints on her skin. “But you gotta stay quiet love—I’ll have you screaming for me when we’re home, okay?”

She turned her head into the duvet in an attempt to silence the scream rising in her chest, but when she came, it just simply wasn’t enough. Anne and Gemma would’ve probably heard her if they were outside the door, a muffled scream of his name flowing from her mouth. She bucked against his hand, chasing her high and Harry licked her through it, the cold saliva from his tongue and his rings inside of her making her body shake.

“Fuck,” Harry said when she finally came down, body pliant in his hands. “That was bloody incredible.”

He pulled his fingers from her, a hiss leaving her teeth at the emptiness inside of her. “That’s how you got me pregnant,” she told him with a laugh.

“But that involves my dick,” he informed her, crawling up her body so he could smother her face in kisses, the slick of her still on his chin.

“Yes,” she said, pushing him away. “But it was that and then your dick that got me pregnant. You’re good, you know.” She rolled over, a hand on his chest. “Not that you need to hear it. Your ego is already too big for this relationship.”

“Ha!” He grabbed at her sides, pulling her closer into him. “You love my big ego. And my dick.”

Her head dropped to his chest with a groan of defeat. “God, you’re such a boy sometimes, I swear.”

With a kiss to her temple, he sat up and tugged her along with him. “C’mon, we can’t stay too much longer or Gemma will never let me forget it.” She licked at his chin, letting the rest of her juices land on her tongue before following him downstairs, trying not the laugh at the way he walked, obviously trying not to let the material brush against his dick too much. She truly loved a menace, she thought to herself. But he was her menace.

In the kitchen, Gemma, Anne, and Michal were sat with cups of tea, two set out for Y/N and Harry that had now gone cold. “Took you long enough,” Gemma said. “Tea’s gone cold while you two got reacquainted upstairs.”

“Gem,” Anne scolded. “Don’t embarrass your brother.” Gemma rolled her eyes, but stood up to reheat their tea.

Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N and she leaned into him, loving how his hands subconsciously rested on her lower belly, right over where their child rested. “Mum, Gem” he said as Gemma returned with their now warm tea. “We have somethin’ for you.”

“Oh!” Anne set down her tea and surveyed the two of them. “But we don’t do gifts until the morning of.” That was still two days away, but obviously Harry was eager. Y/N had told him that he could choose when he wanted to tell Anne, and it seemed like now was the time he had chosen. He was like Y/N, she thought to herself, unable to keep a secret from her parents for long.

“I know,” Harry replied. “But want to give it to you both now.”

Gemma shrugged. “I don’t mind an early gift,” she said.

“Perfect. One second,” Harry told them, disconnecting his arms from Y/N’s waist. “It’s in our luggage. Meet me in the living room?”

They all nodded and Harry disappeared, the sound of a zipper in the other room. “Well, he’s certainly excited,” Anne told Y/N, coming over and giving her a smile. “It’s good to see him so happy.”

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how often Anne had seen her son unhappy over the years, how many women had broken his heart, how many times the world had broken him down. Harry had shared some of it—the disappointment over Zayn leaving, the women who had ripped him to shreds since Harry gave his heart so willingly—but not all of it. She supposed with time, she would learn it all, but she was no longer eager to uncover every stone of him that she was when they were starting out. Now, she knew she would have quite a long time to know every part of Harry, and the idea quite appealed to her.

Anne and Gemma sat on the couch, Michal in one of the armchairs, and Y/N took the other one, the one closest to the fire burning in the hearth that stockings hung from. After growing up with solely warm winters, it was nice to be someplace cold for a change.

Harry wandered in with the last two bags, one for Anne and one for Gemma. Gemma’s was Y/N’s favorite, the one that said, “I love Auntie” in multi-colored letters and confetti all over it. She fully planned on finagling it back from Gemma so she could actually dress their child in it one day. “Here you are,” Harry said, handing both the bags over before going to sit on the arm of Y/N’s chair, her hand in his.

Gemma looked at her mother. “On the count of three?” Anne nodded, a playful smile, and they counted down, Harry squeezing Y/N’s hand in anticipation.

“Oh,” Anne said when she pulled out the onesie, the one nearly identical to Y/N’s mom’s. She looked up at Y/N and Harry and there were tears in her eyes that made Y/N want to cry. “Really?”

“You’re pregnant!” Gemma shrieked, dropping the onesie before bounding over to Y/N. “Oh my god, I’m going to be an Aunt! A little niece or nephew!” She grabbed her into a hug, laughing with joy in Y/N’s ears. “Best Christmas gift. Oh my god, Haz!” Gemma pulled her brother into a tight hug, and Y/N’s eyes rested on Anne who was full on crying at the onesie in her hands.

Harry saw it and went over to his mom, his arm around her shoulders. “You’re going to be a grandma,” he told her, which only made her cry harder. “Mum?”

“Happy,” she reassured him, before taking his face in her hands. “So happy I could explode!” This was the reaction Y/N wanted, she thought to herself, surveying the scene of pure joy. “Y/N,” Anne said, arms outstretched. “Come here, love!”

Y/N practically floated to Anne, the prospect of a mother’s arms around her exactly what she needed. Anne bundled her up in them, tears still streaming down her face as she gave her a tight hug. “We’re due in mid-June,” she said when Anne pulled back, it being the only thing she could think to say.

Anne beamed at her, eyes darting between her and Harry. “My word,” she told them. “This it the best surprise. A little baby! My baby boy,” she said, taking Harry’s face in her hands and kissing his cheeks, “is going to be a Dad.”

Harry’s eyes caught Y/N over his mother’s shoulders, a reassuring gaze that told her he knew what she was thinking. That he wanted to remind her it would all turn out okay. And when she looked around her to the happy scene, the fire in the hearth and the joy on the faces in the room, she knew he was right.

Harry purposefully woke up earlier than Y/N on Christmas morning. He had been trying to figure out when to give the key to his house (not that she didn’t already have one, but it was the idea that counted) and finally he had settled on Christmas Day. So when he awoke, snow falling softly outside his window, he scrambled out of bed to grab the key he had wrapped up in a box the night before with his mother’s help.

“Harry?” Y/N’s sleepy voice came from the bed, her hand sticking out to the place where he’d just been lying.

He loved that she always craved his presence in her sleep. He had noticed it early on, the way she held him in her sleep, always burrowed deeper into his body, was hesitant to let go of him in the morning. With the box in his hand, he crawled back onto the bed, occupying his old space. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, placing the box on her pillow, right next to her head.

Her eyes fluttered open, eyelashes brushing against the pillowcase. Then her gaze met the blue box tied with a white ribbon sitting on the pillow, and her eyes widened. “What’s this?”

“One of your Christmas gifts,” he said. “Didn’t want it to be in front of the whole family.”

She sat up, pushing back the duvet cover revealing his old school shirt that she had worn to bed. When he had told her to pick anything she wanted, she had gone through every shirt in his drawer before settling on this one, loving how soft the material was from years of use. Harry loved how she looked in his clothes, but seeing her in the mornings with messy hair and adorned in his Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School shirt made his heart clench.

He didn’t know how she would respond to the gesture, the request for her to move in with him. To his brain, it made sense—they were having a kid together, after all—but he also knew how Y/N was about these things. It meant commitment and she was always hesitant to take that next step. “Open it,” he told her, sitting up too so their bodies faced one another.

Her fingers grasped the edge of the box, eyes flickering to his face before pulling it open. Inside lay the key to his house, golden and ridged, the one that fit perfectly into the lock on his front door. “Harry…”

“Will you move in with me?”

For a few beats, she just stared at the key, but when her eyes raised to his, he knew what she was going to say. “Yes.”

He leaned over and kissed her, one filled with love and passion and everything he was trying to say. She dropped the box to the bed and let him press her back into the mattress. “Can’t wait to make you come in our bed,” he mumbled against her cheek, drawing a chuckle from her, but she didn’t stop him she he drew her underwear to the side and dropped to his knees, wanting his girl to start her Christmas off right.

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swanslieutenant · 4 years ago

Text

a place in time - chapter xiii

Summary: Emma’s an agent working to reunite missing people with their families when the biggest missing persons case of all time appears in front of her in a flash of bright, white light. Thousands of missing people from throughout history, including one particular pirate, appear on the shore of a lake in the middle of winter: none have aged a day since their disappearance and, with no memory of their missing time, must venture into a strange and uncertain future. Loosely based on the TV show “the 4400.”

Rating and Warnings: Teen. For now.

Catch up: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12

Read on AO3

Note: *shows up nearly 2 years late with a Tim Hortons hot chocolate* - apologies for the length it took for me to get this updated. It has been a hard/chaotic two years for me and this fic is a hard one to write, but things are settling a bit, so I will try not to leave it for that long again.

thanks to all the folks over at the @captainswanmoviemarathon discord channel for welcoming me in and helping me get this finished with the many many writing sprints it took!

___________________________________________________________

Neither Killian or Emma speak as they march back to her office, their steps quick and staccato against the polished floors. The world seems to be on a tilt, like Emma is walking through a funhouse with slanted floors, with the glass doors of the offices lining the hallway like the twisted and bendy mirrors of the carnival house, warping and distorting reality all around her.

Emma supposes she should be used to this feeling by now. After all, her entire world has been on a tilt since that night down at the lake, with the sudden appearance of thousands of people.

But this time it feels different. Like her normal life, or what has been her new normal at this point, has been shattered once again. What she thought to be true, who she thought she could trust and rely on – broken, once again.

I know him from my time.

When they reach her office, after unlocking the door, she gestures Killian ahead of her. He hasn’t said a word yet, and his face is solemn, the utter shock now an icy grit. His jaw is set, his eyes steel, the cold-hearted pirate that lurks beneath his charming veneer returned full force.

“This is his doing.” His voice is shaking with rage, the words more a growl than a sentence.

“This is crazy,” Emma says, swallowing the growing bile rising in her throat as she shuts the office door behind herself. She grips the side of her desk, her knuckles turning white, as she falls heavily into her desk chair. “How – are you sure that it’s the same guy?”

“Absolutely.”

He is still sanding by the door, hands curled into fists at his side, almost vibrating with fury. There is clearly some history here, and Emma remembers the vile that Gold spoke of Killian with when the returnees first arrived, how he had demanded for him to be locked up and kept away from the others.

“Who is he, Killian? How do you know him?”

“He’s a monster.” He spits the words, and then lifts his left hand, shaking his sleeve up his arm and rubbing at the scar that encircles his wrist, ragged and rough. “See this scar, Swan? He did it to me.”

She has wondered about the scar ever since she first saw it weeks ago, and now the shadow that had darkened his expression when she mentioned it then makes sense. She is truly sick now, her stomach twisting at the thought of her boss, the man she has sat across from in meetings and who controls this entire goddamn situation, literally attacking someone to the point of leaving such a horrific scar.

“He – dear god, Killian. That looks like he tried to cut your hand off!”

“It was no mere attempt,” Killian replies hollowly, eyes darkening. “He did cut it off.”

Emma blinks at him, and then stares at his hand, clearly attached to his arm. Now fair enough, she doesn’t know a lot about surgery or how re-attaching a limb would work, but Emma sure as hell knows there is no way Killian would have had his hand re-attached or be able to use it with 1700s medicine.

“He – what? I don’t understand. But your – your hand? How was it … fixed?”

“Magic.”

Emma’s heart stutters at the word. She leans back in her chair, stunned as if she’s been slapped.

“What?”

“A witch,” Killian continues, oblivious to Emma’s reaction, and he waves his right hand airily. “Or a fairy or some other manner of creature. I suppose I never actually asked her. My crew and I had come across her once before ever meeting Gold, and we retreated to her after his attack. She was a bit prickly, but she re-attached it for me after my crew begged her to. She had only a little magic left after running into trouble of her own, and she was no expert, hence the scar, but she did her best.”

Magic, witches, fairies. Her superpower remains silent, indicating Killian is telling the truth as he sees it, but Emma can’t believe it. Abruptly, Emma feels on the edge of tears. A hand re-attached by magic?

What?

Killian seems to finally notice her thunderstruck expression. “To you, Swan, magic is a myth. In my time, it was as common as your light switches. And clearly,” he adds, holding up his hand and flexing his fingers, “it worked.”

Seriously, what the hell is her life these days? Magic? Fine, she has no explanation for why Killian is standing in front of her, two and a half centuries after he should have died. But magic? No way. Aliens or scientific advancements in time travel make more sense than magic. But then she thinks of the video Anna had shown her of her sister controlling snowflakes as naturally as could be, and well, hell, magic at this point may make as much sense as anything else.

“I don’t understand,” Emma manages finally, wrenching her mind away from the literal concept of magic to the problem in front of her. Gold, Killian, time travel, his hand. “How – why did Gold cut your hand off?”

“I stole something from him.”

… Of course he did.

Her mind starting to burst at the seams, she can only gape back at Killian as he explains his history with Gold, utterly lost for words. In Killian’s time, Gold had been a powerful landowner in England, who ventured to the New World after making a bad deal and losing his fortune. He didn’t know how long Gold had been in America before Killian heard of him, but he did know was already successful and rich in his new surroundings, a dangerous businessman who no one dared cross.

Except Killian.

“As you may remember, Swan, at that time I was a wanted man by the English Crown, having stolen and burned many of their ships. They had done their own damage to me, and it was my utmost desire at the time to ruin them in any other way I could. So, when I heard rumours of an enchanted object that Gold had brought over from England, the last of his previous fortune and a gift from the king and royal family themselves, naturally, I wanted it. Besides, my crew and I hadn’t had a good heist in months. It was a hard, cold winter, and the stormy weather had kept many ships trapped in European harbours, and my men were itching for some action.”

Even amidst her shock at this whole situation, Emma has to resist the urge to roll her eyes – pirates.

“My crew and I were moored in a town called Newport, near where his new estate was. We were restocking the Jolly Roger when I heard he’d left the town for business and would not be back for a fortnight, leaving his mansion unprotected.”

“So, you of course just waltzed in and stole it. What even was it?”

He flashes her a devious grin, a glimmer of his charming, mischievous self breaking through his dark demeanour. “I’m a hell of a pirate, love, even on land. It was only too easy to sneak into his manor. We took everything we could get our hands on, and then I found this object, the king’s gift.” Killian cups his hands, as if he was holding several apples in his palms. “It was roughly this size. I couldn’t tell you what it was called, for I’ve never come across anything like it before. I thought perhaps a music box or a small chest at first. It was circular, with the sides plated in pure gold leaf. The top of it was beautiful, no doubt painted by the finest artist to represent a dark indigo sky with white stars emblazoned upon it. I wondered if it was only the case for the true treasure within, but I could never get the damn thing to open. My crew and I tried everything we could think of – prying it, smashing it, hammering it. Nothing. It seemed empty inside, too, for when you’d knock on it, it was hollow. After all the efforts for seemingly nothing, I thought about simply selling it. But, then I heard Gold was desperate to have it returned, that he had ripped his manor apart looking for it, so I knew it was something valuable indeed.”

Emma is trying to picture the object Killian describes, and she has no idea what it could be either. Sounds to her like a little box, like something you’d find in an old antique or knick-knack store. “Okay, so what did you do with it then?”

“I buried it, somewhere safe where I knew Gold couldn’t find it.”

The entire tale is the most Killian has spoken about his past as a pirate since appearing in this time, and Emma supposes she shouldn’t be surprised it ends with a tale of buried treasure. Typical.

“Besides that,” Killian continues slowly, and he rubs one of his upper arms absently, as if recalling a past chill. “My crew didn’t like it. Once we realized we couldn’t do anything with it or allow Gold to have it again, we needed it off the ship as soon as we could.”

“Didn’t like it?” Emma echoes, her skin rippling with goosebumps. “What do you mean?”

Killian frowns, and he rubs at his chin thoughtfully. “I know you don’t believe in magic, Swan, but if you saw this, you would. Even though we couldn’t get it open, the damned thing seemed to suck the energy of the area around it. People were grumpier near it, more prone to anger, and more likely to need hours upon hours of sleep after being around it for a long time. As if it pulled their energy into itself and made them weaker, less honourable versions of themselves.”

He’s right, she doesn’t believe in magic. The thought of a strangle little box, gifted to her boss in the 1700s that caused hardened pirates to want it out of their sight, is something out of a movie. But … after all Emma has seen and all she’s heard, even just in the last few minutes, perhaps she better start believing.

“In any regard, we buried it and forgot about it for a few months until we returned one day to Newport. Gold knew my ship – hell, everyone knew my ship, then – and he was watching for it. He surprised us and thought to kill me and my crew, but realized rather quickly if we were all dead, he’d have no way to find out where the object was hidden. So instead … he thought to teach me a lesson.” He holds his left hand up again. “Hence, this.”

Emma leans back into her desk chair, sinking into the old cushion and letting out a deep breath. She’s starting to get a tight, fluttery feeling in her chest she gets when she’s becoming overwhelmed, the feeling that usually spurs her to run, run as fast as she can.

But there’s no running from this. This, this twisted world with time travel and now apparently magic, is her reality.

Killian falls silent, finally taking a seat opposite her instead of standing, fuming, by the door. But Emma doesn’t know what to say back to him, so they sit in silence for several long minutes. After all, what do you say back to someone who is telling you about their adversarial meetings in the 1740s with your boss, who was the one to cut off his hand that was then re-attached with magic?

Emma has always been a logical person; she’s had to be. There was no room for whimsy or belief in the unknown during her childhood, not when she was burned too early by a world that only showed her its dark and cruel side. Her mind is so overwhelmed, she’s not even sure how to begin processing all this. If Killian wasn’t between her and the door, she may have started running.

“So, you buried this object,” she begins, forcing herself to focus on the tangible parts of Killian’s story, though it’s not enough to not notice the irony of discussing ancient buried treasure with a pirate. “Probably in a place built over by a parking lot, or so deep underground that its lost to history, or found by a random person and sitting on someone’s grandma’s shelf –”

“That seems unlikely,” Killian muses. “I would hazard a guess it has never been found. After all, that must be why I’m here, in your time. He’s after the object again. He couldn’t get it from me then, and for whatever reason, he’s brought me here to find it.”

Emma has come to the same conclusion herself now, but she shakes her head in dismay. “I just don’t understand. If he wants this thing back so bad, why not get it from you back then, not invent time travel and wait nearly three hundred years for it?”

He shrugs, but his eyes flash. “Only the devil himself knows what madness lurks in that monster’s mind.”

Emma sighs and rubs at her eyes. If ridiculous was a line crossed back when Killian first said he knew Gold from his time, this situation is so far gone, Emma’s not even sure what to make of it anymore.

“So where is it buried? The object?”

Killian doesn’t answer, idly tracing the scar around his wrist. She watches him, wondering if he’s simply trying to remember, but when the silence stretches on, she realizes he has no intention of answering her, and for whatever reason, that hurts.

“Killian … you know you can trust me.”

“I do trust you, Swan,” he says, and his voice softens as he meets her eyes. “It’s Gold I don’t. This object, whatever its value to him, has been safe for nearly three centuries. Its secret is safest with just one person.” He pauses briefly. “For now.”

Though still stung, Emma nods. “Okay. For now.” She lets out a deep breath, and runs a hand through her hair, combing out the tangles. “Well, if this object is really what Gold is after and you’re the only person alive who knows where it is, it makes sense why Gold wanted you arrested at first.”

“He what?” Killian’s voice is sharp, his eyes flashing with anger again, and Emma winces. She supposes she hadn’t told Killian that part yet.

As his expression darkens, Emma explains how Gold had first wanted Killian detained more formally than all the other returnees due to his reaction down at the lake where he first fought and argued with the Storybrooke agents, along with his past as a pirate and wanted criminal. How, now that she knows this history, it was most likely just a ruse for Gold to be able to keep a closer eye on Killian than the others.

“That slimy bastard.”

Silently, Emma agrees. She doesn’t know what Gold is planning, but she already knows whatever it is, it isn’t good. At her last meeting with him, when he’d asked her about ‘anything odd’ with the returnees, she’d left the conversation with a pit in her stomach, the root of doubt and suspicion that has now blossomed into fully fledged mistrust and, frankly, fear.

“We have to get you out of here. Out of Storybrooke, away from Gold. It’s not safe for you here anymore.”

“I concur.”

But then Emma frowns. Regina is away today, attending meetings offsite in regards to the returnees’ release, and Emma knows there is no way she is going to get Killian discharged from here without her permission. Any other returnee, maybe, but not Killian the media magnet.

She could attempt to sneak him out, but if they are caught … well, it was bad enough that Emma was seen by the media near him during his previous escape attempt. If they are caught again when she’s aiding him in an escape attempt … she’d be re-assigned to another returnee at the very least or fired at the very worst, and Killian will be kept here, in Gold’s clutches, for even longer.

“I can’t get you out of here tonight,” she says, swallowing down the anxiety that comes with the thought. “We have to wait until Regina is here, and do it all by the books or … well, I don’t know what will happen. She’ll be back tomorrow.” Emma sighs, and rises to her feet. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the barracks. I think you may be safer there with the guards all around.”

They leave her office, walking carefully around the corner leading to the foyer where the media conference had been. But it’s over now, all the chairs and the podium cleaned up.

The walk to the barracks is mostly in silence, both of them lost in thought. When they reach the lobby, Emma grips Killian’s arm, pausing him in his tracks.

“Don’t get into any trouble,” she warns, her voice a whisper. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to talk to Regina about your release.”

“When have I ever gotten into trouble?” he replies teasingly, and he rests his hand over hers briefly before moving towards the staircase. “Goodbye, Emma.”

She watches him head upstairs to his room, until he’s gone through a door and out of sight. Emma should go back to her office and get some semblance of work done, but she pauses instead. The cafeteria is just ahead of her, buzzing with the hum of conversation. It’s lunch now, and the returnees are free to move about as the media are gone. An idea has occurred to her, and instead of heading back to her office, she walks into the busy cafeteria.

Near one of the wide windows at the opposite end, Emma spots David and Mary Margaret. As she’s walking over, Mary Margaret notices her first, brightening with a wide smile and shining eyes.

“Hi Emma!”

Their enthusiasm still makes her a bit uncomfortable, but she tries to smile genuinely as she takes a seat opposite them. They are smiling widely at her, clearly thinking she’s here for a friendly chat or at least a step in the right direction for their relationship, and suddenly Emma wishes that was all she was here for. A pleasant, light conversation with the parents she lost for 28 years, returned to her miraculously by (as it’s truly appearing to be) magic.

And yet here she is instead, a dark cloud of fear and suspicion hanging over her. She glances around before speaking, not really sure who she should be on the lookout for, but in any case, the other returnees and agents are pre-occupied with their own meal or conversation. And, besides, she supposes she has an excuse to be sat here talking with David and Mary Margaret – they are, after all, her parents.

“We’ve been wanting to tell you,” Mary Margaret starts brightly, before Emma can get up the nerve to speak. “Graham told us that once the first group of returnees start to be released, he thinks David and I will be allowed out for more visits. We were hoping, well …” she trails off suddenly, uncertain, and David grasps her hand tightly, squeezing it for support. Mary Margaret smiles at him, and continues, her voice much stronger now, “Maybe we could meet you and Henry somewhere for a meal one day?”

“Oh,” Emma says, taken aback. “Um, yeah, that that would be great.”

They smile in delight, and Emma finds she does truly mean that. If they had said something like this even a few days ago, she probably would’ve scowled and made up some excuse as to why it couldn’t happen, but instead, she is already imagining them at Henry’s favourite restaurant, with him showing them his favourite dishes and desserts. “Um, Henry will be so excited to hear about that. And I want to hear more about it too, but first – I came here to ask you for a favour.”

They nod, exchanging a glance with each other, plainly thrilled that whatever this is about, Emma has decided to ask for their help. Their willingness makes Emma’s heart twinge; they’re so happy to have anything from her, even if it’s an indication of a grain of trust, that it lights up their whole expressions as if she just agreed to start calling them mom and dad.

She gives herself a quick mental shake, and focuses again. She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice so they can only just hear her. “There’s something … weird going on around here, I’m still trying to figure it all out, but I need your help in the meantime.”

David and Mary Margaret trade worried glances at her tone. “Of course,” David says firmly. “What’s going on? What is it about?”

Emma hesitates. She wants to tell them what Killian told her, but it’s not her story to share. Besides, the less people who know about Gold, the better. Instead, she says, “Can you keep an eye on Killian Jones for me for the rest of the day? Make sure he’s doing okay and keeping himself out of trouble?”

David frowns, and crosses his arms across his chest. “The pirate?” he demands, and Mary Margaret glares at him.

“It’s important,” Emma continues, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I – can’t really say much else, but it’s important.”

“Of course, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, and she elbows David, who, reluctantly, nods. “That’s no problem at all. We’ll ask him to have dinner with us tonight.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” She then gets to her feet, and disappointment flashes across their faces. She winces. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. But, I – uh, well I’m looking forward to that dinner one day soon.”

The disappointment fades a bit, and they say their goodbyes. Emma returns to her office for the rest of the afternoon, trying to get through her stack of endless paperwork, but it’s pointless. She gets nothing done, her mind on Gold and buried treasure and even when she gets home, she’s a nervous wreck all night, unable to focus on anything at all.

Henry is his usual chatty self, but Emma can’t keep focused on what he’s saying. She has no patience for cooking tonight either, so instead orders in pizza, much to her son’s delight. As he’s munching on his fourth piece of deep-dish pepperoni, Henry pauses mid-bite, glancing at Emma’s untouched first slice.

“Mom? Are you ok?”

“Sorry, kid,” she replies, and she forces herself to smile reassuringly. “Just distracted by work. Want to play a game tonight?”

He is satisfied with that answer, and playing Clue with Henry does help to pass the time, but her heart isn’t in it and she is soundly beaten in each of the three rounds they play. When it’s finally her son’s bedtime and he’s sound asleep, peaceful and warm in his bed, Emma herself gets ready for bed.

Sleep, however, has never seemed so far away. Her mind roils with the revelations of the day, her stomach turning with nausea and anxiety. With no wink of sleep in sight, Emma sits up in bed instead. She leans against the solid wood of her headboard, and hugs her knees into her chest, watching the tree outside her window sway with the cold wind.

It’s so simple, to watch the trees, illuminated by the street lights below. They are just as they were yesterday, unchanged by the revelation of magic such as controlling snow or re-attaching hands or transporting hundreds of people through time.

She watches the trees for a while, and at one point, Emma finally drifts off, her dreams a jumble of pirate ships and bright white light.

Those dreams, however, are abruptly broken by a shrill ring of her cellphone.

Emma jolts awake, and grabs the phone from the nightstand, answering it without reading the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Emma, it’s Anna!” Her colleague’s voice is frantic and harried, and Emma sits up, her heartbeat accelerating.

“Anna?”

“You need to get back here to Storybrooke right away. It’s – it’s about Killian Jones. One of the returnees was found dead and –”

Emma swings her legs out from under the covers, the floor cold beneath her bare feet, as icy as the shot of pure panic running through her. “What? Is – is Killian –”

“No, no, he’s fine,” Anna says hurriedly, as if just realizing the implication of her words. Emma’s heart stutters again, her emotions of fear and relief in whiplash. “Well, I mean he’s not hurt, he’s not quite okay as you would say, but –”

“Anna, what the hell is going on?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean – okay, like I was saying, I was staying here tonight with Elsa, and then – well, there was a commotion maybe an hour ago and when I went to see what had happened … well, one of the returnees is dead. It’s pretty clear they were attacked … like, with a sword.”

Emma’s heart sinks though she’s sure she already knows. If he’s not the one dead, and the victim was attacked with a sword …

“And what does this have to do with Killian?”

“He’s been arrested for the murder.”

_______________________________________________________

The drive back to Storybrooke is a blur. She’d woken up her neighbour across the hall and half-dragged her over to watch Henry and get him off to school in the morning, only telling her there was an emergency and she had to leave right now.

When she makes it onto Storybrooke’s grounds, she careens into an empty parking spot, half out of the vehicle before she’s stopped the engine. The main returnee barracks building is bright and illuminated, and Emma marches towards it, her heart pounding heavily with each step she takes.

On the steps leading to the building, outside the main doors, stands a group of several individual Emma recognizes as police and FBI officers from their emblazoned jackets. As she approaches, one holds her hand up to block Emma’s path.

“Hold up! No one is allowed entry right now. A federal investigation is underway.”

Emma’s hands curl into fists at her side, and she digs out her identification badge from her jacket pocket. She has no time to argue. “You don’t understand, I need to get in there.”

The officers’ frown at her badge, and she opens her mouth to furiously continue, when a voice calls her name from within the main doors.

“Emma?” The guards move aside, revealing Kristoff Reinsdyr, one of the guards at Storybrooke, looking pale and frazzled. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

One of the FBI officers scowls, and looks Emma up and down. “We have orders to not let anyone else in until Commander Hua says –”

“Emma needs to come in. She’s Jones’ agent in charge of his case here.”

Kristoff gestures her forward, and Emma doesn’t wait to see if the officers complain again, though they do move out of her way finally. She and Kristoff hurry inside, where the brightness of the fluorescently lit building makes her eyes sting as he leads her towards the back staircase.

“Glad you’re here, Emma. Anna told me she called you,” Kristoff says, as they take the steps two at a time up to the fourth floor to the isolation and interview area. Emma is reminded sharply of the first time she had come up here, when she’d met Killian the first night, when he’d been belligerent and thrown in here to cool down.

The thought sets her teeth on edge. “Kristoff, what the hell is this about? Anna said there had been a murder?”

He hesitates. “Yes, it seems like it. There was some commotion around midnight in the residences. We thought perhaps it was a fight, but when we got there to see what had happened …” He trails off, and shakes his head once. “It was awful, Emma. Truly horrific.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and Emma decides she doesn’t want to know. “And – they think Killian did it? Where is he now?”

“In one of the interview rooms upstairs. He was with a few of the other guards for a bit, until the FBI got here about an hour ago. Now he’s in with their commander.”

They reach the top floor, and Kristoff leads her down a cold, empty hallway to the cluster of interview rooms at the end of the corridor. Kristoff opens a small side door, into a small observation room that faces the larger interview room through one-way glass. Three FBI officers are in the room already and they frown at her, but she simply flashes her identification badge in their direction before looking through the one-way glass at the scene ahead.

Killian is seated in a similar room to the one she first met him in, his face smooth and impassive, as cold as she’s ever seen it. His wrists are bound with handcuffs, chained to the table in the centre of the room. Mulan Hua, the commander of the Boston FBI who Emma recognizes from the lake, is seated across from him, watching him with a careful, quiet gaze.

“Let’s go over this again,” she is saying, her voice strained with patience. Emma isn’t sure how long Killian has been talking to her, but by his sour expression, she knows they’ve already been over this conversation several times. “Tell me exactly what happened this evening.”

“As I have told you a thousand times since I was dragged from my bed by your deranged guards,” he snaps, drawing the words out so they are each peppered with a near growl. “I have no idea what happened. I was in my room all evening, save for dinner. All I know is what you’ve told me: a man has been found dead, and you suspect I had something to do with it.”

“Murdered,” Mulan corrects, her face solemn. “He’s not only dead, he was murdered.”

Killian rattles the handcuffs pointedly. “Not by my hand. If I’d done it, I’d bloody well confess. I may be a pirate, but I’m no coward. I’ve committed my fair share of atrocities, but I will not confess to something I did not do.”

“How do you explain the fact that your sword was found discarded nearby, stained with blood?”

It could be a damning statement, but Killian laughs, rumbling and low. “You think me fool enough to leave a murder weapon lying about where any bumbling twit can come across it? Not to mention that I haven’t had my sword since I arrived in this bloody time when your guards confiscated it, so how, pray tell, do you think I managed to get my sword back?”

Mulan sighs, irritation flitting across her features. “Well, we know how you did it. We have evidence. Video evidence of you removing the sword from the Collection Room.”

Emma’s eyes widen, and she feels abruptly like she’s been punched in the gut. They have what?

Killian, however, isn’t fazed by this bombshell; after all, he probably has no idea what a video is. “I don’t care what evidence you say you have. It’s all false, I didn’t do it and I haven’t had my sword in weeks. So, either arrest me and throw me in a dungeon, or let me go for I have nothing more to say to you.”

And at that, he falls silent. Mulan tries to get him to speak again, but to no avail. Eventually, she sighs and gets to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor and making Emma flinch. “Okay. You think about things, and I’ll be back with something for you to eat and drink.”

As she heads for the door, Emma sees her chance to speak with her. She darts past Kristoff and the other FBI officers in the observation room, out into the hallway, catching Mulan just as she’s shutting the door behind her.

“Commander,” Emma calls. “What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, Agent Swan, I’m glad you’re here.” Mulan breathes out heavily. Now that she’s out of the interview room, she appears tired, her face pale, her eyebrows pinched together with stress. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you. Do you have any idea why Jones would want to kill Henry Jekyll?”

“No!” Emma replies vehemently. “Killian wouldn’t kill – who the hell even is that?”

“He is another returnee. Or rather, was. He was one of Jones’s roommates when he was released from isolation. He was found dead earlier by his current roommate. He’d been stabbed several times.”

Emma stares back at her, lost for words, as Kristoff peers out of the other room, as if making sure everything is okay.

Mulan nods at him. “Officer, can you get me a sandwich and water bottle for Jones?”

He agrees, and disappears back down the hall the way he had come with Emma. Mulan turns back to Emma, and at her expression, lets out another deep sigh.

“Emma,” she says gently, almost understandingly. “I know you must have gotten close to Jones while he’s been here –” Emma inhales sharply, but Mulan doesn’t seem to notice “– since you’re his agent and all. Obviously, you don’t want to believe he could have done something like this. But you have to remember that he’s a criminal. He was an outlaw and a pirate, wanted by the British Navy at the time for treason and murder. And that’s just the recorded crimes. We really don’t know anything about him, or what he’s capable of. I’m not surprised something like this has come up, honestly.”

“I am,” Emma replies bluntly. “There is no way Killian killed someone, not when tomorrow – I mean, we are trying to get all the returnees out of here not keep them locked up longer!”

Mulan pinches the bridge of her nose, and gestures for Emma to follow her. “Come with me, take a look at what we found.”

Emma follows her into a second interview room, empty save for a steel table with a laptop on it. Mulan opens the laptop, entering her credentials to log in. It seems to take an exorbitant amount of time, Emma’s nerves fraying further with each passing second. The screen opens to a generic Federal Bureau of Investigation backdrop, and Mulan clicks on a video saved to the desktop, labelled simply ‘surveillance footage.’

“This is from back in early February,” Mulan explains, as the video loads up to reveal a room Emma recognizes as the Collection Room in the basement, where she visited once before to collect Mary Margaret, David and Killian’s belonging, with its shelves upon shelves of boxes and plastic containers.

“Security pulled it for us once we identified the sword. Watch.”

The recording is of the deserted collection room for several moments, blurry and shrouded in shadows, the time blinking in the corner of the video as 3:30 a.m. Then, grainy white light floods the room, the main door swinging open to let in the hallway light.

Through the pixelated footage, Emma recognizes Killian as he strides into the room, confident as ever. He walks to the back of the room without hesitation, to a small area behind a chain link fence which reaches to the ceiling. He disappears off camera as he steps into the fenced-in area, but he’s only hidden for a few moments before he steps back into view.

In his hands, is a sheathed sword, its handle black and simple, apparent even in the poor footage. He removes it from the sheath, and holds it up to his eye level, admiring the blade. He then re-sheathes it and slips out of the room, the light fading from the room as the door swings shut behind him.

The video stops, and Emma stares at it, dumbfounded. There it is, plain as day. Evidence of Killian retrieving the sword.

But she shakes her head as she remembers her own visit to the Collection Room more clearly. “No, no, that’s not possible. Listen, I know he couldn’t have gotten the sword. It was checked out, I remember because I went and got his other stuff and saw it on the list.”

“The list?” Mulan frowns. “What list?”

“There was a list in the Collection Room, a list of each person’s items which weren’t allowed to be checked out, but his sword had a note that it was taken out. So he couldn’t have done it, because you needed special permission to get those restricted items out. I remember because I was –”

Emma trails off, because Mulan is watching her with a skeptical frown. She clearly doesn’t believe Emma, and after all, why would she? There’s video proof of Killian getting the sword himself.

Kristoff knocks on the door to the interview room then, opening it to show the water bottle and wrapped sandwich in his hand. “Here you are, Commander.”

“Perfect,” Mulan says, closing the laptop and striding towards him. “Thank you, officer.”

She’s already back in the hallway, food in hand, marching down to the Killian’s interview room, before Emma, still stunned by the video, springs into action.

She hurries out into the hallway and, before Mulan can open the door to re-join Killian, blocks her path. Killian may be her … well, Emma’s not sure if she could even call him a friend, but whatever he is, he’s her responsibility. Returnees are always given legal counsel if they require it for any reason, including an active criminal investigation whether they are defendant or plaintiff.

“Does he have a lawyer on their way?”

“No, he declined one.”

Mulan says it calmly, but something about it is the last straw for Emma. The last twenty-four hours have nearly broken her – the video of Elsa, the knowledge that Gold is from the 1700s too, that magic is the most probable reason why all these people have shown up here, and now this: her … returnee arrested for murder and being questioned without legal counsel.

“He’s from the 1700s!” Emma shouts, and Mulan flinches in surprise. Even Killian glances over to the door, as if he heard her too. “Of course he declined one, I don’t know if they had lawyers back then. He has no idea about our laws or processes or anything. Killian doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into, he needs a lawyer!”

Mulan regards Emma quietly, and she shrugs. “Well, I’ll speak to him about it again, but I doubt he’ll change his mind.”

She opens the door with the food, and as she does, Emma leans slightly around her, to peer into the room. Killian is watching Mulan enter, stony-faced, but for a moment, a single moment before the door slams shut behind Mulan, he catches Emma’s eye.

If only magic was real; maybe she could send him a telepathic message to ask for a lawyer. But, Emma’s no magician, and the door swings shut, the breeze catching her in the face and rustling her hair.

“Here,” Mulan says, her voice muffled by the door, and Emma hurries back to the other room, to the one-way glass so she can hear better. The other agents are glaring at her now with open hostility, but Emma ignores them, moving past them so she is standing directly in front of the one-way glass.

Mulan has resumed her seat, the water bottle and sandwich on the table between them, but Killian doesn’t move to reach for them.

“Listen,” she says, casting a pointed look to the one-way glass. “Before we talk anymore about this, I’m going to remind you one more time that you are allowed to have legal representation before speaking with me.”

Killian remains silent.

Mulan huffs a sigh. “Alright. Okay, so let’s go over this again, shall we?”

Killian leans forward, the handcuff chains jangling loudly against the steel table. “Commander,” he says, intently staring now at her across the table. His tone has changed, the defensive snarls replaced with a charming lilt, soothing and persuasive. “You are a smart woman, smarter than those oafs who were in here before you. You know I didn’t do this. Even if I was so idiotic to kill a man I had met only a handful of times on the eve of being released from this prison, you know as well as I that any criminal worth their salt wouldn’t leave a bloody murder weapon tied to them and them alone near a massacred body should they hope to get away with the crime. Whoever did this wanted you to find that sword, to know that it was mine so you would come to me right away and keep me locked up here.”

Mulan narrows her eyes, and she asks, only half-jokingly, “So what? Someone is setting you up?”

Killian’s gaze flicks over to the door, to where he had seen Emma, before he shrugs, as if the suggestion is ludicrous. But it’s enough to clue Emma in.

Of course. He’s right, he has no motive to kill Jekyll. But someone else does. Someone else, who has something to lose if Killian is released from Storybrooke with the rest of the returnees.

Gold.

He must’ve seen them at the news conference, must know Killian would’ve told Emma everything about their history together. Know that, of course, Emma would try everything in her power to get Killian out of here before Gold could do anything like lock him up like he had always wanted to. So he moved faster, found a way to keep him here, in his grasp where he hopes to get the location of the mysterious object out of Killian, once and for all.

“Emma?” Kristoff asks, reaching out a hand to her in concern, and Emma realizes he and the FBI officers are staring at her.

She waves them away, realization and horror roaring in her ears as loud as thunder. She is still trying to process this, when in the interview room, Killian leans back in his chair, his expression dark and cold.

“Perhaps it is time I speak with an attorney.”

#cs ff #cs mc ff #captain swan #ouat #cs fic #a place in time #hope people like this one!#it's been a long time so i'm grateful for anyone still reading

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fusrodie · 3 years ago

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@le-cat-nipp

The point again is- NO, u are not analysing character, u basically stated he sucks cause he is inconsiderate to others and for me it is just silly argument, u keep repeatin. Thats your whole "analysis"- Ethan is shitty character, cause he didn`t want to comply to his daughters kindappers. And, no I don`t think Ethan is ideal, but the point u trying to show here is just laughtable in my opinion.

I reply to your post cause I think ur "analysis" is rather biased. And the thing is its nothing new, cause most of the people rather symphatized with villains. Anyway I most likely make a fool of myself, being too emotional over fictional character, so that will be the end of me. Have a nice day

kindly show me how you're qualified to say my analysis is not an analysis because you disagree with it? I am examining the elements that make up Ethan's character. that's analysis. that you think I'm too harsh is very much a non-factor and doesn't make an analysis any less of an analysis lol

only you keep ignoring the 10+ posts in which I keep mentioning that yes, he sucks, as a person, which actually makes him a relatable, amazing character. Ethan is not going to jump out of the vidya game and eat your ass, he's not real. characters are not people. there is a distinction between character as part of a narrative and character as an allegory for the human experience. Ethan is great at one and shit at the other. I am a great character within the scope of my life's narrative (because I am the protagonist of it) but positively foul as a person in some areas of life. one does not anull the other. to some people, I am still likeable. the mistakes I have made may have been justified but are still mistakes. that’s Ethan for me.

that's exactly why people aren't perfect, are not supposed to be perfect, and are still appreciated despite their faults. I appreciate Ethan as a character because of his faults. I am just acknowledging he has them, as they all have them, because video games nowadays are not just for fun and instead have become a storytelling medium. my analysis is biased because this is not a court and I don’t owe a fictional character impartiality, in particular when I clearly stated that I’m taking a closer look at his bad side. it really isn't hard to understand?

I'm not judging you for being emotional over a character because that's the whole point of fiction. I actually salute you for being able to see that you have created an emotional bond with this character that is important for you. it's just going to save you a lot of stress to separate yourself from that entity. I feel like a struck a nerve that made you go feral while I’m just sitting here having a jolly good time. criticism of a character is in no way, shape or form criticism of yourself. people are not going to start hating Ethan because of my opinions - I am not influential, I am a lil tiny blogger that pops up every two to three years and that is too done with fandom to care whether other people in this hellhole of a website are going to get on my ass for voicing opinions. you don't have to defend him from the imaginary threat that is my little goblin hands. I’m not coming onto your blog to comment on your stuff that your characterization of a video game character is wrong, and I’m not going to send anonymous passive aggressive messages either. that you and I don’t seem to be speaking the same language and can’t seem to reach a middle ground is alright by me. everything is fine.

#resident evil village #ethan winters #the ethan winters debacle

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ninjakitty15 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 15: Trickster Treats (Loki X OFC Pairing)

"You know, not that I'm complaining here, but you don't have to bribe me with chocolate chip pumpkin pancakes and pumpkin spice latte, as much as I missed those breakfast foods this time of year," I assured my best friend in the whole fucking multiverse.

"You have no idea how fucking bored I've been since you went MIA, I tried making new friends honest, but you of all people know how hard that is."

"Even in Salem where the weird are welcomed?" I asked.

Zari just nodded while shoveling crispy strips of freshly made bacon onto my already full plate. "I also think you need this, I know you don't extensively need to eat being dead and all but how the hell else do you recharge after kicking terrorist ass?"

"Mischievous magical sex certainly helps," I chirped.

"Is that why he hasn't come down for food like you did?" she asked, jerking her head toward the guest room we stayed in.

"Not as much as usual actually, we were both just tired and needed company over intimacy. Asgardians are fucking addicting, pun intended."

"Let's hope he doesn't wish he knew how to quit you," she teased.

I scoffed and shoveled more food into my mouth. "He aint never had it this good, the best thing about necrophilia is the dead can't say no."

"Jesus, woman, still with the dead jokes after all this time?"

"Always," I replied smoothly.

"So what should we do today while I got you?" she asked excitedly.

"Like you said, I gotta recharge and then I gotta celebrate properly since I missed out so many times, too many really, it's a good thing I got out before I missed it this year or I'd be seriously depressed."

"You're only really alive during this time of the year despite the veil between worlds being so thin and your death powers being strongest then, irony that is. So what was it like being in the Avengers company?"

"Kinda boring when I wasn't actively shagging the only other person on house arrest there, I'm not terribly into new state of the art tech Tony's all about. I mean yeah it looks cool and shit but like I've no idea how to use the majority of it."

"It did take forever for you to get a smartphone when the rest of the first world had been through like 5 at least."

"That was partially because I was under the impression I couldn't afford one or didn't need that much stuff just to contact people."

She rolled her eyes at me and scoffed. "Whatever, Ms. Slide to Text Not Smart Phone."

"Call me what you want but whenever I dropped that phone, the worst that happened was the battery popping out, let's see you drop a smartphone any height without a protective cover and see if it even works after that."

"Get with the times, woman!"

"Don't wanna!" I retorted and crossed my arms in a pretend pout.

"How the hell does Loki put up with you really?"

"I already told you, copious amounts of kinky and experimental sex, keep up."

"What about sex?" a familiar smooth accented voice interrupted.

We both turned to see a groggy looking Loki that shifted into his mortal form Tom seamlessly, a hand combing through his short sandy curls and a lazy smile tugging at his lips upon setting his eyes on me. "Zari wants to know why you put up with me."

"Put up with? Why would it be a chore to be with you?"

"My thoughts exactly. See, Zari, it's not me, it's you," I taunted.

"Shut up and eat your damn pancakes," she demanded.

"So orange is for the pumpkins everyone picks and carves into what you then call Jacko Lanterns, black is for the night of the holiday and the darkness and death that comes after the season more or less, white is for the spirits free to roam about, what about purple, I know I've seen some of that mixed in as well as green," Loki commented while we raided some more tourist stores full of holiday goodies.

"Purple seems to come out more in kid friendly type decor or even dare I say glitsy stuff I'd rather not. Green's also a bit kiddish but it also goes with the monsters and other characters people tend to dress as for the occasion," I explained, sifting through the sweatshirts that all had Salem something or other on it.

"And what's the most common costumes?"

"Well I mean every year there's always a select group of costumes that's all the rage of that year, like maybe Tony did something wicked awesome the world knows about so everyone's gotta be Iron Man that year, but then there's also something for the girls that's excessively popular but at a certain age or older it's gotta be either slutty or some other form of sexy because that's society in a nutshell. Dudes can be anything but chicks are just breathing sex dolls."

"That's disgusting, why didn't you people let me destroy New York when I had the chance?"

"What do you mean 'you people'?" I asked suspiciously. "You know how I feel about that city."

Loki picked up a rather cute looking scarf that of course was green and wrapped it around his neck then turned to me. "What do you think?"

"Lay off the green or go back to your real form, you can't have it both ways, even I know that and I never go undercover."

He scowled at my logic as he had made a habit of by now but put it back all the same and chose an orange one with black skulls instead. "As a child then, to your knowledge and not society's, what were the most popular costumes of choice?"

"I think even before I came into existence, the classic ones were: witch, ghost, devil, clown, cat, skeleton...those ones at least. They were the easiest to make as well if you didn't have the money or time to buy one and the economy has always been shit. Oh and there was the Grim Reaper of course, how could I forget that?"

"That was your first costume, wasn't it?"

"Nah." I smiled. "I don't remember much before I died, no faces or names or anyone really but I do know I was a witch...glad I can remember that much of my childhood. Ghost was the absolute easiest fucking costume to make but witch was the bees knees for me."

"What made a ghost costume?"

"Oh just find any old white or offwhite bedsheet that didn't drag too much on the ground or you'd probably trip over it half the time you're trick or treating, cut two holes for your eyes, boom done, you're a ghost, I sheet you not."

"Zari warned me you were fond of bad jokes and puns, I found them amusing but now I'm sort of wary."

It was my turn to scowl at this, he seemed to enjoy my wordplay till she had to ruin it. "She and I are gonna have words later about that, ruining my fun when I just got here." I snagged a comfy looking black and orange hoodie with a cute witch pun on it to purchase and snagged Loki's scarf as well to pay myself despite his protests. "Shush, Zari gave us spending cash since we want to stay under the radar and cards will fuck us over that way."

"I know but I wanted to pay for it myself," he insisted.

"Listen, this city is all about my favorite holiday and said holiday only has one law, trick or treat and since you are the master of tricks here, if you want anything in this city, it'll be my treat."

He opened his mouth to argue a few times before deciding he wasn't going to win what I thought was a smooth as fuck reply that should also be bulletproof too. "Fine. Well played."

"Jolly good, and thanks, been known to happen. How long do you think we'll have before we're found by either party?"

"Stark will hopefully find us first, I'd rather not be locked up again, I'm sure you agree there. As to how long...a few days give or take with his resources. Worried, love?"

"Something occurred to me just now. While this is my turf and I'm nigh unstoppable here, I don't want the other agents coming here and sullying my slice of heaven or Valhalla in your case and that's what they'll do, they're a plague, spreading and destroying everything they come in contact with."

"I can understand that, that's what I felt with Asgard before it went down in flames. What would you have us do then?"

"I don't want them here, but I still need to sort out the traitors, there's gotta be more than the two I saw there at the base. I'm also tired of being targetted, that's the reason I left the country in the first place and literally the second I come back before I can even touch native soil, I'm back to being wanted by the wrong people. This country sucks."

"The Avengers have already tried many times to nip it in the bud as you Midgardians would say. I'm willing to bet there's several more hidden bases off the radar we won't be able to find ourselves unless they want us too."

"What are you saying?"

"We won't be able to rid them of the world unfortunately, they've been around since 1940s at least and don't plan on retiring despite their old age. Although...what did you say about getting rid of certain household arachnids earlier on?"

I blinked and wracked my memory, wondering where he was going with his musings before it dawned on me and a wide wicked grin spread across my face. "If you can't kill em, make em wish they never came in. What do you know, you can teach an old god new tricks."

His smirk from pulling a page out of my own book went back into an unamused though half hearted glare at my last bit. "You're lucky I don't know how to quit you."

And once more I was the one scowling again. "You wouldn't survive the withdrawals, I'm a fever you can't sweat out. Also, it's rude to spy on other people's conversations. That's classified information you don't have clearance for."

"I'm a god, I have clearance for everything, silly woman."

"Eventually that card will expire that you keep pulling," I muttered, tugging him out of the shop and onto another while pulling on my new hoodie.

Outside in the heart of Salem, the cobblestone streets were damn near packed like Mardi Gras in the South, street vendors everywhere, tourists and people that just bloody love the upcoming holiday getting it while it was there. The park across the street from all the chaos was busy with fair rides and games for the kiddos, fried dough, candy apples and fresh apple cider as fair food. This was my home, my heaven, if I died for good then and there, I'd regret nothing because I'd already be in heaven and there was no telling what kind of afterlife I was in for. The air was crisp and smelled of hay rides and apples and I couldn't remember a time I was more in love than I was then. I pulled Loki out of the crowded street and into a side alley between shops, grabbed him by his cute new scarf and snogged him passionately. Even in human form I couldn't get enough of him, would you blame me? He cupped the side of my face once we pulled away and studied me almost tenderly.

"This will be our place," he murmured. "Not Stark's, not the Avengers, not Hydra's. I've already watched one place I love go down in flames and I've already lost one woman I love fall before that even happened, I won't let either of which happen again, not while I'm still breathing. I swear it on my life. We can't let them near this but we can't run from them either, so we'll take the fight to them or die trying."

"Well, you might die, I'm already there but yes, I concur. First we enjoy our mini vacation, then we raise some hell and all the damned that comes with it. To mischief, to merriment, to manslaughter!"

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki romance #the avengers #hydra #necromancy #necromancer #nell the necromancer #loki x oc #loki x original female character #loki x nell #zombies

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dancing-with-dichotomies · 4 years ago

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A LIST OF THE WORST AND BETTER CHRISTMAS SONGS I CAN REMEMBER OFF HAND, BY SOMEONE WHO WAS RAISED BY JEHOVAH’S WITNESSES AND THUS IS PROBABLY CLOSEST TO AN UNBIASED OPINION, FUCK IT IF NOT. THESE ARE JUST BAD ANNOYING UNNECESSARY CHRISTMAS SONGS.

1, THE WORST OF THE WORST IMO? CANDY CANE LANE. FUUUUUCK THIS SONG. I DREAD IT MORE THAN ANY OTHER CHRISTMAS SONG, I PLUG MY EARS IF I CAN WHEN I’M FORCED TO BE AROUND IT PLAYING. IT’S SO GRATINGLY ANNOYING, IT HAS JUST AS LITTLE SUBSTANCE AS THE CANDY IT’S BLEATING ABOUT, AND YET IT’S JUST CATCHY ENOUGH TO GET STUCK IN YOUR FUCKING HEAD IF YOU ENCOUNTER IT LONGER THAN 5 SECONDS!!

2. WINTER WONDERLAND. JUST BARELY UNDER CANDY CANE LANE IN LEVELS OF ANNOYANCE. IDGAF WHO PARSON BROWN IS BUT HE CAN GET FUCKED, NOSEY BASTARD. THE REST OF THE SONGS BELOW ARE MORE OR LESS EQUAL LEVELS OF ANNOYING BTW BUT THESE TWO ARE MY TOP MOST HATED...

3. IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS/IT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR - THESE TWO TIE IN BEING UNNECESSARY MOTHERFUCKING REMINDERS THAT I DO NOT NEED THAT ANOTHER MONTH OR TWO OF THIS BULLSHIT IS STILL TO COME. IT IS NOT WONDERFUL ASSHOLES, IT IS COLD AND RELENTLESS.

4. I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS - Y’ALL WHEN I WAS A KID I ACTUALLY LEGIT THOUGHT THIS SONG WAS ABOUT A WOMAN CHEATING ON HER HUSBAND WITH SANTA TO GET GIFTS. NOW THAT I’M OLD ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND AND HEAR THE LYRICS BETTER... STILL GROSS. I DUN WANNA THINK ABOUT SOME POOR KID SEEING THEIR PARENTS ROLEPLAY CHRISTMAS KINK. AND IT’S JUST AN ANNOYING SONG. FUCK OFF WITH THIS.

5. HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS - UUUUUGH SOOOOOO SLOOOOOOOOOOW... AND ALSO, EVEN THOUGH IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A NICE SENTIMENT... IT JUST ALWAYS SOUNDS SO DEPRESSING?? IT MADE MY KID CRY LISTENING TO IT AS A BABY AND I CAN’T BLAME HER, IT’S MADE MY WANT TO CRY HAVING TO HEAR IT A FEW TIMES BEFORE TOO??

6. I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS - SAME AS MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS, JUST DEPRESSING ASS SHIT, GTFO.

7. FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS - LAUPER WHYYYYYY UGH THANKFULLY YOU DON’T HEAR THIS AS OFTEN AS THE OTHERS BUT OH MY GOD WHEN IT COMES ON I DO ANYTHING TO GET IT OFF/GET AWAY...

8. HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS/ROCKIN’ AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE - BOTH SHORT BUT UNFORGIVEABLY ANNOYING AND STUPID CATCHY AND READY TO WORM INTO YOUR HEAD FOR HOURS LIKE A PARASITE.

9. JINGLE BELLS/JINGLE BELL ROCK - JINGLE JANGLE JUST FUCK OFF.

10. GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN - WAAAAAY TOO RELIGIOUS, JFC. “REMEMBER OUR SAVIOR WAS BORN ON CHRISTMAS DAY”??? LIKE PROOF?? SOURCE?? ALSO A FAVORITE OF HOLIER-THAN-THOU CAROLERS SO UGH...

ALRIGHT NOW JUST TO SHOW YOU I’M NOT JUST A HATER HERE’S A LIST OF CHRISTMAS SONGS I THINK ARE ACTUALLY DECENT/MAYBE EVEN ACTUALLY LIKE.

1. ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU - KEEP IN MIND? I STILL DON’T REALLY LIKE THIS SONG. BUT IT’S A GOOD SONG, JUST BECAUSE MARIAH FUCKING CAREY IS SINGING IT. ALSO I THINK THAT THE MESSAGE IS A NICE ONE AND TRUE TO THE ACTUAL SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS. :)

2. SANTA BABY - KEEP IN MIND? I STILL DON’T REALLY LIKE THIS SONG. BUT IT’S A GOOD SONG, JUST BECAUSE EARTHA FUCKING KITT IS SINGING IT. ALSO I THINK THE MESSAGE IS A NICE ONE AND TRUE TO THE ACTUAL SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS. :)

3. YOU’RE A MEAN ONE MR. GRINCH - HAHAHAHAHA. THIS SONG IS JUST GOOD MEAN-SPIRITED FUN. IF YOU DON’T RELATE TO THE GRINCH I DON’T RELATE TO YOU.

4. METAL COVER OF THE GRINCH - OKAY I’M CHEATING YOU’LL NEVER HEAR THIS IN A GROCERY STORE BUT GOD WE SHOULD IT WOULD HELP BREAK UP THE MONOTONY AT LEAST. MY PERSONAL FAVORITE CHRISTMAS SONG EVER.

5. THE CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS INSTRUMENTALS - JUST NICE CHILL CLASSIC TUNES MAN. WHAT’S NOT TO LIKE??

6. CAROL OF THE BELLS - THIS IS CATCHY IN A GOOD WAY. IT’S FAST AND UPBEAT AND THE WORDS, IF ANY ARE EVEN USED, ARE SIMPLE AND TO THE POINT.

7. ONCE UPON A DECEMBER - DOES THIS COUNT AS A CHRISTMAS SONG? IF SO IT’S A GOOD ONE.

8. ALL THE SONGS FROM “NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS” - LOL FUCK IT, IT MIGHT BE MORE OF A HALLOWEEN MOVIE BUT SEEING PLAYING WITH CHRISTMAS MOVIES KEEPS ME SANE, SO I’M CONSIDERING THESE ALL CHRISTMAS SONGS.

9. MAD RUSSIAN’S CHRISMAS - YES. GOING MAD IS THE ONLY WAY TO SURVIVE THIS SEASON AND THIS SONG EMBODIES THE UTTER INSANITY THAT IT BRINGS.

I KNOW I’M MISSING SOME BUT IN GENERAL THESE SUCK AND THESE ROCK. XP

#christmas #xmas #xmas songs

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cherryeol04 · 5 years ago

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Jolly Chaos

Genre: Humor, fluff, stupidity? Pairing: JacksonxOC, ChangbinxAidenxFelix Word Count: 2.9K Summary: While getting presents for Aiden’s boyfriend, Sabrina and Aiden get snowed in at the mall. At least there are some hot guys to occupy her time with. A/N: This is a crappy summary and doesn’t even begin to describe this story. lmao. I’m sorry.

“Stay indoors because a snowstorm is projected to hit the city by 4pm. You do not want to be out when it hits.”

The audio from the TV served as white noise as the two bodies in the house moved in sync within the kitchen. A balancing act of dancing around each other as they worked on their baked goods. Sabrina had only wanted to make cookies, but Aiden has insisted that they also make cupcakes because “icing them is fun”. What wasn’t fun, however, was the clean up at the end. And if there was one thing Sabrina had learned in her years of babysitting the Park son, it was that he didn’t clean up after himself. Somehow, he always managed to weasel his way out of cleaning duties. Aiden truly was an amazing kid.

“Six minutes until the cookies are done!” Sabrina called out as she dumped the mixing bowls into the sink to be cleaned later. Her gaze turned to Aiden who was hunched over his tray of cupcakes, a look of concentration creasing his brows - tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. It was actually kind of cute, the way he carefully moved his hand in a circle, creating the perfect icing swirl. He was oblivious to what she had just said, lost in his own world of decorating. It was picturesque, so Sabrina pulled out her phone and opened her camera, quickly snapping a few pictures of Aiden for “memories sake (read: blackmail)”.

Despite the camera noises and flash, the younger male remained unbothered. So Sabrina took the time to send the pictures to two different group chats. The first was with Aiden and his parents and she figured that they would appreciate some cute pictures of their son not causing trouble for once. The second group chat was one with a mixture of her friends and Aiden’s friends, which also included Aiden’s two boyfriends. In this chat, she only sent one of the pictures - the decent looking one, after all, she needed to keep at least one picture for blackmailing purposes. Glancing to the clock, Sabrina hummed and made her way back to the over to the oven to check on her cookies. A comfortable silence fell over them once more, broken only when Aiden finished his decorating and Sabrina had plated her 24 count tray of cookies.

“They look burnt.” Aiden complained and his nose scrunched up.

“You look burnt.” Sabrina retorted.

“That doesn’t make sense!” Aiden huffed with a shake of his head. “They smell good though. Good job.” A compliment in a way and it was certainly more than what Sabrina thought she was going to get. Not that Aiden was a rude or misbehaving teen. On the contrary, he was a well mannered and sweet young man. He honestly didn’t need a babysitter at his ripe old age of 17, but Aiden did have a tendency to be a bit dense and clumsy at times. If not for his last attempt of cooking unsupervised that led to the kitchen nearly burnt to the ground, his parents wouldn’t have insisted on having someone to watch him. But it couldn’t be helped and it was better to have someone with better common sense around to make sure Aiden didn’t accidentally burn or destroy something in the house. Sans his friends because they just couldn’t be trusted. Sabrina didn’t mind though, Aiden was like a little brother to her and hey, she also got free food. It was a win-win situation.

“Thanks, Aiden.” It was a soft return of gratitude to the praise she had received, followed with a gentle smile that was returned wholeheartedly and reminded Sabrina of the sun. What a precious guy.

“Hey Bri, do you think we can hit the mall?”

Sabrina raised a brow at the question, shoulders raising too. “I mean we could, but it might hurt.”

Aiden groaned at the poorly made joke, eyes rolling in exasperation. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Sabrina couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled up in her chest, one hand raising to cover her mouth as she tried to keep from snorting. After calming herself, she cleared her throat and nodded. “Sure. Let’s clean up-”

“We can clean later.” Aiden whined, a pout on his lips. “I want to get to the mall before it closes.”

“Why?” Sabrina asked.

“I - uh - need to get gifts...for my boyfriends,” Aiden said shyly, head bowed in embarrassment as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. It was really cute, but everything about Aiden was cute and Sabrina could understand how he managed to get two boyfriends.

“You haven’t gotten them a gift yet? Christmas is next week!”

“I know! I’ve just been so busy with exams and homework. I barely have the time to see them, let alone have time to go Christmas shopping. Doesn’t help they go to a different school.” Aiden pouted, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“So, what you’re saying is that if I take you to the mall, I would be helping your relationship?” she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. “Little Aiden will be a good boyfriend then, making his boyfriends happy?” she teased, relishing in the whine that he let out in embarrassment. “Alright, we can go, but on one condition.”

“Name it.” Aiden agreed quickly. A little too quickly, which made Sabrina happy.

“You do all the dishes when we get back, by yourself.” Sabrina laughed as Adien’s mouth dropped and she could see he was getting ready to protest, but never uttered a word. Instead, he simply closed his mouth and nodded, resigned to his fate. The things he did for Felix and Changbin.

“Okay.”

“Perfect! Let’s go then!” Sabrina cheered and headed out of the kitchen and to the front door. Free of cleaning duty, she was more than excited to go shopping now.

~*~*~*~

The relief that came when Sabrina finally parked was more than welcomed with Aiden thanking all the Gods he knew in a rush of muttered praises, surprised that they hadn’t crashed or ran anyone over. Sabrina was actually surprised she managed to keep her road rage in check and didn’t hit anyone. Though she really had wanted to run one woman over in particular. She had just decided to walk out in front of her car, without even checking to make sure the coast was clear.

Stupid Karen.

Aiden practically sprinted to the main entrance of the mall, leaving Sabrina to fumble with her keys to get the car locked. With the click of the doors, Sabrina ran after Aiden, chasing the bratty teenager through the food court and down the leftwing - barely dodging the unsuspecting patrons milling about. “Aiden! Slow down! You’re gonna run into-” The world rushed around her, yet all she could focus on was her heavy breathing and the feeling of arms around her waist. Looking up, her eyes locked with a pair of chocolate brown orbs, brows creased with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Gathering her bearings, Sabrina straightened herself as she slowly left the man’s embrace with a nod. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry about that.” she apologized, bowing to the other. She felt absolutely terrible about running into the man. And she certainly wasn’t being a good role model for Aiden.

“It’s okay. As long as you’re not hurt.” He was being too kind, which only deepened Sabrina’s guilt. She had expected him to yell and blame her for being careless, which was true. But instead, he was worried about her. A complete stranger! She would be lying if she said that it didn’t make her heart flutter a little.

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing or where I was going. I’m so sorry.” She protested, once more bowing to the man, a little deeper than last time.

“It’s fine, really.” the guy laughed, his whole face a light with a bright smile. It was stunning and took Sabrina’s breath away. “Just be more careful, okay?” he asked and she gave him a tentative nod. It seemed to satisfy him and with one last smile, he walked off.

The encounter was strange, but by the time Sabrina found Aiden again, it had completely escaped her memory. The younger male was in the bookstore, browsing through the shelves stacked with cards and board games. He had three games already in his hands, eyes reading over the back of another game that was sitting on the shelf. “What did you find?” she asked, moving to stand beside him. He jumped, struggling to hold onto the games as he glared at Sabrina.

“You just gave me a heart attack! Jesus!” he whined, trying to keep his voice so he didn’t disturb any of the other shoppers, but that was a struggle for him. Aiden was not at all a quiet boy.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t at all sorry, giving a shrug before taking one of the card decks from Aiden’s hand. “Cards Against Humanity?”

“Yeah. Normally I play with Felix and Changbin online. It has a larger and better selection of card decks. But there have been times we’ve wanted to play while together, but we didn’t have 3 computers and using our phones sucked.” Aiden explained, pouting at the memories.

“So you’re going to give your boyfriends a card game?” Sabrina raised a brow as she stared at Aiden, watching him squirm under her gaze.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Why not? Because that’s such a sucky gift! You should be getting them something romantic or something.” she huffed out.

“Romantic? Like what?”

“I don’t know, google it. Romantic gifts to give your boyfriend. I mean, you could even give them headphones. Something other than a card game.” she said, taking the games from Aiden’s grasp and placing them back on the shelf. “What do they like? Give them a gift to complement their personalities or something they really have been asking for.”

Silence fell over the two as Aiden stared at the floor, brows knitted together. Sabrina was worried that maybe she had been a little too harsh and critical on Aiden for his gift choices. Honestly, who was she to even protest as she had? They weren’t her boyfriends. But she did remember all the drama and angst Aiden went through to even get to the current point he was at with his boyfriends. She really just wanted to make sure his Christmas with his boyfriends was as sweet and romantic as it could get. He deserved it.

“Aiden-”

“Bri-”

They stared at each other, waiting for the other to talk. When neither of them made a move, Aiden let out a heavy sigh. “Bri, I need help. I don’t know what to do or get them. They’re just so…” Aiden trailed off and let out a frustrated sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. “What do you get someone who is so perfect and has everything they could ever want?” he asked. The sheer desperation that was shining in his eyes had Sabrina’s heartbreaking and she wanted nothing more than to pull Aiden into a hug and protect him from the world. But maybe it was that protection that left him so clueless.

“Maybe they don’t need trivial items?” Sabrina suggested, an idea coming to her.

“What do you mean?”

“Instead of spending your money on a card game or something else they’ve probably received a dozen times, maybe you could make them something?” Sabrina suggested with a gentle smile. “You know? A handmade gift always means more than a store-bought one.”

“Make something? I’m not at all creative, what could I possibly make them?” Aiden pouted, staring off to the side, racking his brain for ideas.

“Aiden, you’re going to school for the performing arts. You make music for your classes. You’re very much creative.” she assured as she reached out and patted his head. “You don’t need to do anything grand like writing them a song or anything. Just something heartfelt.” She felt like she was talking to a child, who didn’t have the cognitive capabilities to understand what she was saying. It really saddened her, but he was managing on his own.

“Like a card? Or a letter?” Aiden asked. Sabrina nodded with a gentle smile.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go check out the stationery section. We can get some cute paper, colored pens, and washi tape. Maybe we can find some other things we can add.” Taking his hand, Sabrina led him from the games and across the store to browse for the items they needed.

“Thanks, Bri, you’re the best.”

~*~*~*~

It didn’t feel like it was that late in the day, but by the time Sabrina and Aiden finished their shopping, the store was almost completely empty. It was odd, especially considering the fact it was only 3 pm, long before the mall was supposed to close even with the holiday hours. Nonetheless, the two made their way to the front entrance and were greeted by the largest and thickest blanket of snow, falling from the sky.

“Oh, crap.” Sabrina whispered.

“Oh, crap indeed.” A voice from behind her agreed and she turned around, staring at the group of males behind her. One of whom she recognized almost instantly as the handsome stranger she had run into earlier that afternoon. “The news said it wouldn’t hit until later.” he complained.

“Looks like the weatherman might have been drunk again.” Another male spoke up from next to Mr. Handsome. The group was composed of five guys, all very good looking and for a moment, Sabrina questioned what she did in her past life to be surrounded by such handsome men.

“Lix? Binne?” Aiden asked, brows furrowed as he stared at the group. “Jinnie?” All those names sounded familiar from the countless tales Aiden would recount when Sabrina would come over to hang out with him. And suddenly, Sabrina didn’t feel so blessed because at least three of the five good looking guys were a couple of years younger than her.

“Aiden! What a small world.” Hyunjin cheered as he walked over and pulled Aiden into a tight hug. Aiden smiled, returning the hug before pulling back shortly after to move to Felix and Changbin, giving them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m here Christmas shopping with my-” He stopped himself, cheeks flushing as he looked to Sabrina who was smirking.

“You’re what?” Felix prompted.

“His babysitter.” Sabrina grinned, winking at the whining boy who was trying to hide behind his two boyfriends. “I’m Sabrina or Bri for short.”

“Nice to meet you, Sabrina. It sure is a small world, we’re babysitting too. I’m Jinyoung and this is Jackson.”

“We’ve met.” Jackson chuckled and Sabrina could feel herself blushing.

“Again, I’m so sorry. I was chasing after that one.” she said as she pointed to Aiden.

“Hey! I was just excited!” Aiden pouted.

“I said it was alright. Stop apologizing.” Jackson assured her with a soft laugh, flashing her such a sweet smile that it only seemed to enhance his handsome features and Sabrina found herself wanting to see more of that smile.

Was there a formation of a crush happening? There sure was.

“Okay.” The reply was soft and she wasn’t sure if they had actually heard her or not. It didn’t matter though and she turned her attention back outside. It honestly shocked her at how quickly the storm had rolled in and covered the ground with such a thick layer of snow. They weren't even at the mall that long! Her eyes scanned the gray sky, slowly darkening further as the clouds slowly moved. It was only going to get worse, she could tell.

“Looks like we’re stuck. At least until the storm passes.” Jinyoung mused.

“Who knows how long that’ll be.” Sabrina commented and turned around. There were a few groups of other people milling about the mall entrance. All stuck just like them. Well, at least they still had power.

They spent the next five hours waiting within the mall. The food court employees that were left fired up the grills and made meals for those stuck there. Sabrina spent her time getting to know Jackson and Jinyoung, swapping stories about Aiden, Felix, and Changbin. Most were absolutely hilarious and Sabrina was very glad that she wasn’t the only one who was witness to Aiden’s stupid moments. It was around 8 pm when rescue workers were finally able to clear a path to the doors of the mall and another hour before roads were cleared enough for everyone to head home. Though Sabrina was ready to go home, she didn’t really want her time with Jackson to end. The older male (as she found out) was very funny and she wanted to get to know him even more. But Aiden was tired and getting cranky, so being the good babysitter she was, she took him home. And as they were warming up and cleaning up the kitchen, Aiden handed her a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Jackson’s number. He said to call him whenever.” Aiden shrugged before disappearing out of the kitchen, leaving Sabrina to clean alone. She couldn’t even bring herself to care either, eager to finish and call Jackson. Maybe this Christmas she won’t be lonely.

Tags: @cuddly-bangchan @lordseochangbin @channiesmixtape @starryseung @felixsanxchatbot @jisungsjheekies

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ichigo777666 · 4 years ago

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FE3H Characters Ranked

My opinions of all the main characters in FE3H ranked from worst to best in my opinion. These are MY opinions! Spoilers ahead, obviously.

*NOTES*

This does not include any of the DLC characters. This also does not include the following characters since they have limited dialog / appearances within the game: Gwendal, Pallardo, Duke Aegir, Anna, Lambert, Ionious, Metodey, Kostas, Holst, Macuil, and Indech. Any other characters who are only mentioned by name are also not included. And Byleth is also not on this list due to being the player’s character.

Everyone else included in this list has a few interactions or mentions in multiple ending paths so they’re fair game. Not having a lot of interactions is not going to affect placement that much so don’t be surprised if some major characters wind up low on the list…

*The PIT*

Aka the worst of the worst. The characters I would throw into the void.

#54 – Leonie

I absolutely hate this character so much. Her personality is so flat and grating that she drives me up a wall. Her character can be summed up in two words “loves Jeralt” – that’s it. Just about everything about Leonie revolves around impressing Jeralt or being like Jeralt or doing this because of Jeralt ect. I don’t care if she’s useful as a playable character – every time she opens her mouth I cringe. Her support which is only available after Jeralt dies in which she berates you for “not appreciating him enough” is just the epitomny of selfishness. Then PTS she basically turns herself into a second Jeralt, replicting his outfit as best she can and giving herself his title “the blade breaker” and adds a 2. Excuse you, but is ANYONE can call themseleves that it’s Byleth, aka Jeralt’s child, not YOU. But she doesn’t care and does it anyway...

#53 – Rodrigue

Oh boy this is going to be a very unpopular opinion but in terms of a character, Rodrigue is kind shit. Rodrigue earns this spot for being the shittiest living parent in the game. His eldest son Glenn dies and his comment on that is how “he died like a true knight”. His first emotional response is pride not remorse. He never mentions how much he loved him or how he misses him: just how proud he was of him… And this pisses off poor Felix. Felix whom gets left ALONE after this happens because Rodrigue decides he’s got to be Dimitri’s mentor / guardian. So he basically straight up abandons his grieving 13 year old son to be the new father figure of the prince. Dimitri was more important to him that his own child. We can all see what the impact of this was on Felix through the game. And then, in Azure Sky, when Rodrigue joins you as a “mentor” character, he lacks all balls. Dimitri is going crazy and acting like a psychopath and Rodrigue doesn’t even really try to do anything about that – he just stands aside and comments on how he’s “changed”. I mean FRICK MAN – your were his guardian, his mentor. TALK TO HIM! But NOOOOOOO! So yeah, Rodrigue sucks!

#52 – Lord Lonato

Speaking of shit parents, here’s another for you! Yes, Lonato was kind enough to allow Ashe and his siblings to live with him, which is the oddest decision ever considering this came about after Lonato caught Ashe sneaking into his castle to steal from him. “I’ll just adopt this thief child”. Despite that act of kindness, he also chose to not tell Ashe the truth about what happened to his son Christophe; that Christophe was not involve with the Duscar incident but rather had been a part of a plot to try and kill Rhea. Lonato could not bring himself to believe that his son was wrong or had done anything wrong. Despite the fact that his son had decided, for whatever reason, to try and kill someone, Lonato thought that this was okay. He then sacrificed himself for the sake of trying to avenge his true son instead of continuing to care for the children he’d taken in. He basically took Ashe & his siblings in, giving them security for the first time in years, then chooses to follow his only wrong beliefs and thus put Ashe & his siblings back into the world again. He gave them 7 years of security and this just went “oh well, you’re on your own again”.

#51 – Gilbert / Gustave

And rounding out the “shit parents” section of the list, we have the father that literally abandons his daughter and wife due to own depression. He’s totally alive and out there but just can’t bring himself to give a crap about either or write them any letters. Nope, he’s caught up in his head that he wasn’t there during the tragedy of Duscar, of how he “should have arrived sooner”. I mean, really? It is in now way his fault just because he’s a knight. He wasn’t supposed to be there and he’s got guilt that he wasn’t there? Seriously man?! And then when he finally does reunite with Annette all he does is push her away. Instead of letting Annette decide whatever she wants to be around him again, he chooses for her and denies her attempts to reconnect with him. Yeah, shit father…

*The Bottom of the Barrel*

These characters are bad. They’re not absolute utter garbage like the PIT characters, but they still are awful.

#50 – Dimitri

Yeah, I don’t like Dimitri. What is there to like about this guy? He was traumatized as a teenage when his dad was killed in-front of him and that changed him into a survival-guilt ridden bloodthirsty killer? Jeez, it honestly feels like someone tried to ft a whole bunch of tropes into one cohesive character and failed massively. The whole “brooding” phase in Azure Sky where he’s basically a tantrum throwing 5 year old only makes him worse. Also, I still don’t understand WHY he immediately jumped to the whole “Edelgard is the one who killed my parents” conclusion. The entire Duscar incident had nothing to do with Edelgard, unless Dimitri thinks a teenager with no power could do that. And, if he’s blaming the Empire, why does that extend to Edelgard who was just a princess at the time? I could see if something like the FE was present and that’s why he went crazy after Edelgard but I’m pretty sure the FE didn’t exist back then… so WTF? This is like “my parents were killed by a drunk driver. Hey you, unrelated person who just learned to drive this year, you are drunk therefore I HATE YOU – you killed my parents!” Really, no. NO.

#49 – Acheron

He has a minor role only but you fight him twice and you can get some background from Lorenz. He’s annoying and I guess he’s designed to be so. I don’t like him much. But he’s not as annoying as Dimitri.

#48 – Cyril

Oh Cyril. He’s such an annoying character. He’s a more toned down version of Leonie with his obsession with Rhea. He’s a bit of a jerk during his support conversations and he’s dismissive of his homeland. I think his supports with Seteth best show what Cyril’s all about: he’s devoting himself to repaying Rhea without thought for anything else, even his own future. He has no ambitions and no desires….how can a character be so bland?

#47 – Hannerman

And the obsessive one. ‘Obsession with Crests’ is just the only phrase you need to describe Hannerman. While I can understand why Hannerman as a character wants to research crests, the way he goes about it is just wrong. He hounds Lysithia w/o realizing why she’s avoiding his questions until she basically has to spell out WHY she’s uncomfortable with talking about it. He’s been hounding Seteth for 21 years about his crest and Flayn’s too. 21 fricking years of bothering someone and he can’t understand the answer “no”.

#46 – Arundel

Yeah, he’s a piece of shit but at least he’s interesting. He’s Edelgard’s uncle and yet he basically allowed her to be experimented on. Why? Who knows? He’s associated with TWSITD but why? Power? Conquest? He’s mysterious. His personality “suddenly changed” leaving the option open that he was replaced and the Arundel that exists now is a fake. He’s intriguing but he’s still a piece of crap.

#45 – Dedue

Oh Dedue. I feel like Dedue is stuck playing the “victim” card but without looking for sympathy. He’s from Duscar so everyone looks down on him...and Dedue just takes it. He doesn’t try to defend himself or say that just because he’s from Duscar doesn’t mean he’s evil. He does nothing to try and change anyone’s opinions – he’s content to just sit and take it. But then he talks about wanting to have the world move past the tragedy….so which is it Dedue? In order to have it change, you need to actually DO SOMETHING!!!!

#44 – Thales

The weakest character of the main three. The game tells you almost nothing about Thales...and then you go and read the wiki and find out he’s Arundel….yeah mind telling us that game?! So he’s higher than Arundel.

#43 – Nemesis

Another evil character with no personality or real background. Why did he start his rampage? Was he manipulated or just evil? Who knows….

#42 – Judith

Judith has such a small role unless you’re playing VW. And in VW she’s a bit of a bitch who treats Claude as a misbehaving child even after he proves himself again and again.

#41 – Nader

AKA the Alymrian general you meet briefly in VW and in CF. He’s in for less than a few minutes and he appears to be jolly/happy and has the rep of being an undefeated general. I guess he’s alright. But with no real role I can’t bring myself to feel anything for him

#40 – Annette

When I first played I was on the fence with Annette. I sorta liked her determination and her drive to reunite her family. But then her singing started...and oh boy do I hate her singing. So many of her supports center around that annoying singing! Just STOP already, please! Also WTF is that blue “tab” in her PTS redesign that’s right on her butt? It’s the only one...

#39 – Ferdinand

Ferdinand’s personality is just...annoying. From his meme’d battle line to his constant talk of “being a noble” he just grates my nerves. And why does he act like this? Because his father is not and he’s trying to not be like his father and be a “good person”….

*The Low-End*

These characters are “eh” characters. They’re aren’t too good or too bad...but they lean more towards bad than good.

#38 – Kronya / Monica

This was an interesting idea. I just wish she had been more involved or usable. Like if you’re playing BE house, she becomes a playable member. Something to endear her a bit more other than “this other random character you rescued who acts suspiciously”. Let’s face it, we all knew something was up with her. And then she’s killed off so easily and quickly...

#37 – Cornelia

Okay, she’s a bit interesting and a manipulator. They weren’t afraid to give her an “ugly face”. She’s a schemer and not afraid to flaunt her assets to give her an advantage.

#36 – Alois

Eh. Alois. Loves jokes, very loyal. I guess he’s alright but he’s not spectacular and some of the jokes and just so so so so so so bad.

#35 – Ashe

Ashe is another character that I think lacked development. I mean he just gained a slight bit of confidence and purpose but he’s not one for much change. His personality over all is a bit bland: he likes stories about knights and is worried about his siblings. Oh and he used to be a thief.

#34 – Jeritza

Bland because he’s meant to be bland. His other personality is typical “killer knight”. What saves Jeritza is his support conversations where you get background and you realize why he’s the way he is.

*The Middle Ground*

These characters are right in the middle. Not great but not awful.

#33 – Ladislava

In every ending except CF, you only get to see her once but in CF you can chat with her and learn more about her. She’s the head of Edelgard’s person guard and its heavily implied she had next to nothing before this appointment. She’s fully loyal to Edelgard, even willing to die for her cause.

#32 – Flame Emperor

I listed this character separate since FE is an enigma. I actually liked the design of the FE and the whole mystery surrounding them.

#31 – Manuela

I’m...ambivalent about Manuela. She’s a drunken whiner at time and other time she turns into something sweet and reliable. She’s so worried about her age but she’s NOT that old. It’s a bit trope-y though...to have an older character all concerned about her age.

#30 – Jeralt

Jeralt’s a good dad character albeit a flawed one too. It’s a shame they didn’t give him any support conversations to flesh him out more. As it is most of what we learn about Jeralt comes from others.

#29 – Sothis

I don’t hate Sothis like most. She’s a bit bratty, yes but look at from her way – she’s got no memories, no recollections, and has found herself somehow stuck with this person. She tries to help out Byleth best she can, even if it sometimes leads to near disaster.

#28 – Gatekeeper

A nice wholesome character who always wants to help out and be useful. He’s a nice guy but suffers from lack of characterization.

#27 – Mercedes

First off, I dislike the “breathy” quality of her voice. She’s a very nice girl and very kind...but that’s about all there is to Mercedes...

#26 – Raphael

Ah, the big guy who loves to eat. He’s overprotective but not too overprotective of his little sister. He’s strong, interested in his muscles, and in getting stronger but it’s because he’s shouldering the responsible of taking care of his sister. Still he’s a bit trope-y.

#25 – Lindhardt

Lindhardt make up your dang mind! He talks about wanting to study crests but when he’s offered by two separate people to do just that he complains about how he’s being “tied down”. Really? His laziness and sleepiness also gets tired after a while.

#24 – Ignatz

Ignatz is a character who shows a lot of growth and goes from having no confidence in what he wants to do to finding his path. However Ignatz remains a pushover who gives in to whatever anyone advises even when he knows its wrong. It takes a long, long, long time for Ignatz to learn to have any say in himself...which is why he’s down here.

#23 – Solon

The most developed of the three main TWSITD characters. I feel his reveal as Tomas was ruined by the poorly executed Monica / Kronya earlier. However he was unexpected. Who expects the librarian? It would have been better if they didn’t have him as “suspect” in the whole Flayn is missing part through.

#22 – Randolph

You only really get to know Randolph in CF although he’s got a minor part in AS where we see that he truly cares for his sister and how he feels he must do this, even if he risks dying. In CF, we get to learn more about Randolph. He’s actually a step-uncle to Caspar through his mother marrying into the family. He has no power or clout so everything he earns is done by action. It’s a shame they killed him off so early.

#21 – Caspar

Caspar is a good character in several ways. He’s not depressed about not being the heir to his house and is motivated to find his own way. He knows he’s flawed and in his supports he tries to change only to learn that he’s better off following his own path. It’s his boisterous yelling and charging headfirst into danger is what I don’t like about him.

*The High Side*

These are characters I like. They’re not the best but I like them and can understand them.

#20 – Hilda

Ah Hilda. Hilda’s one of those characters that surprise you. Hilda starts off being this lazy character who doesn’t want to battle and doesn’t want to do chores. Not because she can’t do them, but just because she’s lazy. You see her trying to get out of things in her supports only to either feel guilty or wind up helping someone learn something. But I think where Hilda shines is in VW where she acts as Claude’s “advisor” and some of Claude’s best plans come from suggestions from Hilda. By then she’s come into her own. I also enjoy Hilda’s C support with Seteth greatly where he just lists all the excuses she’s given flat out as Hilda gets more and more nervous.

#19 – Claude

Claude made it up here due to his unprediacbility. Some of his plots/schemes are downright hillarious. Claude is unashamed of who he is and where he comes from – he knows who he is and who he wants to become. And, in a game riddled with characters who struggle with that very issues, Claude’s a bit of a breath of fresh air.

#18 – Fleche

Ah Fleche. She’s a very minor character but she’s got such an impact on the story in AM – this is what path we’re going to discuss. We first meet Fleche when she’s talking with Randolph, her brother, right before Randolph heads out on a mission that will ultimately end with his death. Instead of doing the typical thing for a young girl which is to cry, Fleche goes ‘nah’ and decides to take revenge. She disguises herself as a “maiden” and goes to try and join the Kingdom Army; she’s allowed to by Dimitri. Fleche bides her time and waits until after a big battle and then straight up goes and tries to murder Dimitri. She actually stabs him once and barely fails in her task of killing him. Against Dimitri, one of the strongest characters... a little girl.. Yeah, Fleche is kinda badass.

#17 – Miklan

Okay, so here’s another good sympathetic villain character. Miklan was born with no crest so he was looked down upon by his family. He was the first child however so his family kept him...at least until his brother Sylvain was born with a crest. Then Milan became “garbage” and useless in the eyes of his family and thus was disinherited. He lashed out against his brother multiple times. With no one on his side, Milkan became the leader of a group a bandits and began taking things he wanted, things he felt he should have had, by any means necessary. He later stole the heirloom lance from his family, intent of keeping it and its power for himself. While it’s true Miklan is not a nice person at all, more like a sadist, the reason he became that way was due the treatment of his family.

#16 – Dorothea

I am in the camp of the very few who like Dorothea’s second outfit better than her first – that dress is boss. Some of her supports are downright sweet and her interactions with Ingrid in their paralogue are just adorable. I love how we get to see so many different sides of Dorothea and how she treats each of her aquantinces with the side of herself that’s most appropiate.

#15 – Shamir

The silent Shamir. Unlike so many characters who talk and talk and talk, Shamir only speaks when necessary until she gets close to someone. Her skills are top-knotch, which is showcased in her supports. Her personality is a reflection of her work and the kind of jobs she does as well as her way of protecting herself. She’s mysterious and deadly.

#14 – Rhea

Oh Rhea. I’m often torn in the way I feel about her, going from understanding to becoming frustrated with her within the span of a single conversation. Her desire to see her mother is what drives everything she does – every single thing. She is 100% committed to trying to reach her goal, no matter the cost, and she’s been at it for almost an eon. Outside of that goal, what she’s doing she truly believes is the right thing. She’s trying to guide people towards the right path and away from conflict. She lets no one truly into her innermost thoughts, not even Seteth, and her emotions are all sequested away, so much so that when they do come out it becomes obvious. I mean, for anyone who thinks she’s nuts, let’s take a look at some of the trauma she’s gone through. Her beloved mother, whom she obviously cared for more than anything, was murdered and her body was used to make a weapon. Said weapon was then used to slaughter the vast majority of her brethern who were then in turn alos turned into weapons to be used to kill. She had to then fight the man who had killed her mother to reclaim what’s left of her body and to stop any more pointless killing. Yeah, Rhea’s had it rough.

#13 – Marianne

Ah, sweet Marianne. It was great to watch her change and grow based on her supports with the other characters. Her caring nature towards the animals, espcially the horses, was lovely – she even knows the names of a few of them (the only one to refer to the horses by name). I like how her PTS outfit reflects the changes she’s overcome – even the subtly of making her hair neater.

#12 – Catherine

Badass female knight with a legendary sword. She’s brash, not lady-like, and not afraid of anything really. The way she rushes into combat w/o a though for danger, the fact that she doesn’t try and hide her past from the person whom it affects the most, and her way of testing people. Catherine’s great.

#11 – Hubert

Juts missing the top 10 is loyal Hubert. I’ll admit I didn’t like Hubert at first but he grew on me bit by bit. Hubert’s S-Support with Byleth is like the cutest thing ever – I was not expecting it at all. This is loyalty done in a good way.

*The Summit*

The best characters in the game, IMO. These are the characters I love!

#10 – Petra

I got to admit, I like her not-perfect talking. That’s so much of Petra’s charm. Adding to that is how Petra’s always trying her best and trying to advance herself. She has modest goals she wishes to reach and doesn’t try and sell herself as better than she is. She’s always willing to learn and to help others. When there’s someone with a different opinion, Petra tries to understand why they feel the weay they feel and to try and find common ground.

#9 – Lysithia

Oh poor girl. Lysithia struggles with others seeing her as a child or too childish due to the fact that she’s younger than most of the students. She’s incredibly intellegent and throws herself into her studies. Both of these things lead to others teasing her, either playfully or actually. Instead of taking it stride, this ‘teasing’ causes her temper to show and erupt. She can’t tell them WHY she’s trying so hard, why she’s so desperate to achieve cause that would reveal her secret. She’s burrying all this hurt and anger deep inside that she can’t talk about because can understand what she went through (except perhaps Edelgard). And even though she knows she’s going to likely die soon, she’s not focused on her own life: she’s doing all she’s doing to try and help her family...

#8 – Sylvain

Sylvain quickly became one of my favorite blue lion boys. At first glance he looks like this degenerate womanizer...and then you learn abut him and why Sylvain is why he is. His father views him as a studhorse and that his crest is the only good thing about him; his father literally cannot see Sylvain as an actual person, just a way to further the family. Having a father like this and a brother who hates him for having been born with a crest has greatly shaped Sylvain. In order to have some semblence of himself, Sylvain began to act out, to do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING he could to not be what he was supposed to be. His father wanted a noble son; Sylvain did everything he could to not be that. This got him into trouble again and again but Sylvain didn’t care. Sylvain is willing to do things that make others look down upon him if it helps him try and escape from his life...

#7 – Bernadetta

Aw, Bernie. Bernie’s such a good girl. Based on what she went through, it’s amazing she’s even sane. Her father’s idea of parenting was tying her to a chair and forcing her to remain quiet and submissive for hours, to “teach her to be a good wife” which is the reason she turned into such a nervous wreck of shut-in. He resorted to beating to near death a boy she made friends with because he was a commoner, which terrified Bernie into not wanting to make friends at all. Bernie’s mom seemed to have a little sense and smuggled her out but this is only AFTER she allows this stuff to go on for years – YEARS. Bernie’s had years of psycological trama inflicted on her and then she gets thrust into a school surrounded by people whom she has to interact with. The poor thing. It’s a testament to her professors and friends to see how far Bernie has come; to watch her change and grow as she slowly comes around to adjusting to normality.

#6 – Ingrid

There is something incredibly entertaining about a lady knight who loves to gorge herself on food. Loving eating food is generally a character trait you see on guys (typically big guys like Raphael) so to see it on a chick is a good change of pace. Her whole no-nonsense strict attitude is a great contrast to that. She’s not girly or into very lady-like things such as dresses or makeup or tea parties. Ingrid is a guy’s soul in a girl’s body….and she’s amazing.

#5 – Felix

If you haven’t read the entry for Rodrigue (he’s #53 on this list) go read that first. After all that shit that Felix’s gone through, it’s amazing he’s even still standing and capable. He’s stewing with anger and grief that he’s never been able to work through and it manifests as anger and his stand-off attitude. Poor freaking Felix.

#4 – Flayn

Fishy Queen. I do not get the hate for Flayn. She’s been horribly oversheleted by Seteth in his attempts to protect her so it’s left Flayn a bit naive. Flayn’s usually very cheery and happy which is a bright light in the depressing war times. She’s also a quite capable mage, mainly with healing magic but she can also learn a good bit of reason magic too. Flayn is always trying her best while trying to fit in with the others – she’s over 1000 years old, mind you! It can’t be easy trying to fit in when you don’t understand and when a vast majorirty of those years were spent asleep. She was involved in an ancient battle where she was badly injured (Seteth blames it on her being too young) and requires sleep inorder to heal. Meanwhile everyone else she knew and lived with aside from Seteth was killed. She wakes up an everything she knew and just about everyone she knew is just...gone. Not only her beloved mother but any friends she had too are just gone. It’s no wonder she fears falling asleep when this is what happened. Her obession with fish? It’s Flayn’s coping mechanism for dealing with the loss of her mother. Flayn explains on numerous occassions that she spent lots of time sitting with her mother while she fished and that fish is her favorite food due “to no small part” of this pastime. Fishing and eating fish is Flayn’s way of remembering her mother and dealing with the fact that she’s no longer with her. Flayn’s supports are just great; they all develop her personality more. With Dimitri and Dedue, Flayn’s cooking is explored. Flayn can’t cook although she tries her best. With Dedue, Flayn tries to learn to cook better. With Dimitri, Flayn expresses her disdain that no one enjoys her cookings and how this wastes food, even when she tries her best. Obviously Flayn never cooked before – her mother did most of it. Now there’s no one in her family to cook so Flayn’s trying to learn to try and follow in her mom’s footsteps. With Ignatz and Manuela, Flayn’s exploring things she never has seen or done before: the opera for Manuela and paintings with Ignatz. In Claude’s and Lindhardt’s supports, Flayn sidesteps questions about her heritage and her crests. With Sylvain, we see how Flayn grows and learns to not trust the rumors others say. In Felix’s, she’s trying to help Felix find a purpose after the war ends that still allows him to use his sword. With Raphael’s it’s Flayn who’s being helped by Raphael as she tries to “grow stronger”; she even mentions how she’s frail and how this worries Seteth. And then there’s Ferdinand’s supports where it’s clear Flayn’s been starved of physical affections aside from Seteth. And their supports, between Seteth and Flayn, are a great progression between the two...Overall, I love little Flayn.

#3 – Lorenz

I like noble boy. I will admit, I hated his schooldays haircut with a burning passion...and then man on man did he become HOT pts. Winner of the best boy glow-up. A lot of Lorenz’s character flaws are the fault of his father. His father taught him that all that is important is being nobility and Lorenz ate it up, not knowing any better. His father instilled into him how he neeed to find a wife to further the family’s influence and thus how she must be a noble. This worked so well on Lorenz to the point that he willing to even give up someone he loves if they happen to be a commoner. Lorenz spends a lot of time trying to ‘interview’ girls to find his perfect noble bride, coming off as a bit on an ass – even when he’s confronted by Byleth he refuses to believe he’s done anything wrong since this is what his father taught him to do. It takes a long time until Lorenz starts seeing that he is wrong that what his father taught him is wrong. He starts using his own head and his own eyes to determine what is instead of using the opinion blasted into him by his father. He’s always trying to help other, feeling it’s his obligation as a noble to help those around him, which is a quality that he alone seems to take seriously (despite the school being filled with nobles). He originally dislikes Claude cause he believes that Claude isn’t taking his responsibility as the next Alliance head seriously since Claude is so laid back. He eventually comes to see that, despite appearances, Claude is working on the issues and is capable. His S support with Byleth where he mentions how he has "worked tirelessly to improve" "to become a man truly worthy of (Byleth)" and then is uttely shocked if Byleth tells him he already was worthy shows how dedicated he can be. With Ignatz, he instills confidence in him, seeing talent in Ignatz for art and talking about how there is more to knighthood than combat. His poetry writing comes out with Manuela’s supports and he convinces Hilda through actions to actually throw herself into battle. But I think his best supports are with Marianne. The vast majority of her supports are the others telling her to “be more confident” or “smile more” or other such things where they give her advice on how to improve...but Lorenz is the only one who comes to see that nothing needs to change. He starts by complementing her and then commenting on how she “needs polish” only to realize he was wrong and state she is “becautiful just the way she is”, accepting her fully for who she is without looking to change a thing. He is, essentially, telling her she is perfect the way she is and she doesn’t need to change at all for him to love her...which I find just so utterly sweet.

#2 – Edelgard

Edel gets a lot of hate but I honestly love her character so much. Edelgard is a doer not someone who sits by and does nothing. Due to things outside of her (and her father’s) control, she would up the victim in an experiment, a experiment that killed all of her siblings. Edelgard alone survived although at a cost. That experience forever changed her. Gone was the child and in her place rose Lady Edelgard. Unlike Lysithia who is dealing with her similar situation by trying to provide for her family before her time runs out, Edelgard isn’t. Her goal is the destruction of the circumstances that caused the experiment as well as those who caused the experiment to happen upon her so that this cannot happen again to anyone else. Since the experiment were done to give crests and since Edelgard has obviously seen how some children are treated whent hey have / do not have one, she aims to destroy all of that. Edelgard is literally stomping her foot down and saying ‘no, this isn’t a good or fair system and I’m not going to stand around and let it continue’. She’s willing to sacrifice everything to attain this goal, even if it turns her into a monster or ends in her death. Instead of waiting for the world to change, Edelgard decides to BE the change. She knows she’s going to be responsible for the deaths of a lot of people and she clearly struggles with the idea of this but in the end she decides that if she does nothing than that number will be greater so she persists. She burries her desire for friends and for love because she can’t bring herself to trust or rely on others – her father loved her but couldn’t protect her; the nobles in her father’s court are resonsible for hurting her too. They had her trust and they betrayed it. Her heart has been broken already; I don’t think she wants to risk it breaking again by trusting someone who will betray her, by making friends who can abandon her, by falling in love with someone who doesn’t understand what she’s doing. In CF when you side with Edelgard, you get to see more of that emotion slowly come out. Think on the PTS reunions: Dimitri was in disbelief and then apathetic that Byleth was alive; Claude was slightly surprised but then glad; Edelgard though broke down. Edelgard was the only one to get so emotional over Byleth’s return – someone she had trusted whom had returned that trust wasn’t dead after all; there wasn’t another corpse to add to the pile of people she cared for. And in that final animatic where Byleth falls – she’s clearly so upset. She’s crying, clearly devistated. Devistation which turns into laughter when Byleth revives because she can’t believe it. I stand by my opinion that Crimson Flower is the canon ending for FE3H. It’s the only ending where the endings song is different; all 3 other paths have the same song “Edge of Dawn” but not CF – you get something different. Add to that that EoD is sung by Edelgard. And let’s not forget the symbolism. The game is Fire Emblem. What’s a fire emblem? Crest of Flames. Who posess this crets out of the main cast: Byleth & Edelgard. And in CF you unite. Also notice the same letters. Crimson Flower (CF) & Crest of Flames (CF). That’s not a coincidence.

#1 – Seteth

I honestly could fill pages on why I love Seteth as a character but for here I’ll try and keep it shortish. I’ll start with his supports. Seteth’s supports are all about his advice to the others and him trying to guide them. For Cyril, he’s talking about how it’s great to repay debts but it is also important to consider one’s future as well; he doesn’t want to see Cyril just waste his whole life in servitude to Rhea but rather to grow into his own. With Catherine, it’s concern over her safety, over how she throws herself into battle without care for the consequences. For Manuela, it starts with a lecture over her drinking habits but turns into something far more personal when his wife and daughter get mentioned. Outside of the paralogue, this is the only time an outside person gets to learn that Seteth even had/has a wife and daughter and it’s Manuela who gets told it, implying a deeper friendship. Hannerman’s involves his investiagtion of Seteth’s crest and how Seteth is constantly refuting him, obviously trying to protect himself and Flayn from others finding out the truth. With Leonie, he teaches her how to relax while fishing while she improves his own skills in the area. For Hilda, he’s trying to improve her work ethic first by confronting her about her excuses, and then by writing a story about her laziness...which does work somewhat as it gets her to work on illustrations. For Ingrid, he’s a voice of reason about the demands of her father and he’s the one who suggests that Ingrid simply talk to him about her issues, something which she didn’t consider. For Felix, he’s trying to help Felix realize his beliefs are holding him back and that he needs to make friends. With Bernie, he helps her build some confidence in her own skills and talents. And of course we can’t forget his interactions with Flayn where he goes from overly protective, to realizing he’s a bit too overbearing, to actual apologizing for that. Seteth acts as a conduit or a spark that helps inspire change in those around him, to wake up potential, or to see things differently. He’s strict and often seems somewhat unreasonable about rules and regulations but its obvious this is his way of trying to protect people. He’s shouldering massive guilt over the events that happened in the last war. He personally blames himself for Flayn being hurt and for his wife dying. This event spurred him on to becoming overprotective of his daughter, of the only thing he had left. Seteth is doing what he’s doing to PROTECT his child (unwilling to see her to come to harm), even if he’s going about it in the incorrect way. He has literally devoted his whole life to protecting Flayn to the point that when she gets kidnapped, he falls apart at the seams and is unable to do anything at all except despair and distress. Flayn has become his whole world and just about everything Seteth does is to protect her or help her. That kind of devotion from a father is incredible, especially in a series where most of the parents kinda suck. I also adore how he breaks the typical “paper-skinned mage” trope. Let’s face it, most of us probably thought the stern chuch advisor was likely going to be a mage – and then we get a wyvern rider with a lance. I could go on and on, but I’ll leave it here. Seteth is just the best character.

...this was 18 pages of writing.....

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peachyteabuck · 6 years ago

Text

fashión (bucky barnes x reader)

Summary: At one of your best friend’s drag shows, Bucky catches your eye. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the dance pop blaring through the bar’s speakers, but for some reason you’re feeling a little more daring than usual.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2,536

Trigger Warnings: Blowjobs, shitty flirting, people are drunk and do sex things

Notes/Other: This was done for @propertyofpoeandbucky ‘s mystery writing challenge!! My prompt was “You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?” and has been bolded within the fic! Also, I feel like this is the total opposite of what I’ve written recent but when I got this prompt I knew this wip was perfect for it.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Dating has always been hard for you. Friends and family have always tried to set you up on dates - as has Tindr - but nothing seemed to stick. No one ever seemed to do the trick.

“C’mon, babe…” your friend coos to you. You’re in a dressing room at some fast-fashion establishment, the wide and tall mirror forcing you to stare back at yourself. The too-bright lights burn your eyes, the top radio hits from last year only depress you, and the smell of weed and regret radiating from your skin is making you want a sandwich. “Listen, I know you don’t want to do this-”

Your sigh cuts her off. “Then why are you making me?”

She steps over to you, readjusting the floral jacket before speaking. As you look in the mirror you realize actually kind of…like it. Which is weird. “Because I know better than you, you’re a shut-in, and every moment you’re not being ravished by a muscular hot dude physically kills me.”

God, her brazen personality always catches you off guard. That’s probably why she’s the performer and you just sit alone in the basement of your shared home - sewing and eating and writing all day.

In the end, you don’t buy the jacket. Lucy ends up taking you to her favorite thrift shop and you pick up a deep blue faux-fur coat and some velvet heels in the same shade. Boujie? Maybe. But it’s something you feel confident in, so you don’t grumble too much when you see the total.

You both get to the club early so she can get ready, focus on turning her face into the inside of an elementary schooler’s pencil case – one young enough to understand that there’s never such thing as too much stationary (or too much color) but young enough to constantly be losing caps. As she steps into the threshold of the famous bar, Lucy’s met with jeers from janitors and bartenders and sound techs alike – all people ecstatic to see their favorite person like a dog left alone during a long work day. As she greets them with the same overjoyed smiles, you slip past the jolly merriment to the dressing room in the back of the building – her outfit bag and make up suitcase in your hands, her shoes and wig in your hefty backpack. Despite the outfit you’d picked out earlier you’re donning the same outfit you’d been wearing since the techie days of middle school – black jeans, black t-shirt one size too big, and all black sneakers. All the better to blend in.

Three hours later Lucy has officially turned into Boudoir Z, her drag persona and the username for her long-abandoned Neopets account. The club is packed with people, almost as tight as her dress is with her pads, and some old Kesha song thumps the floor to its beat.

“Are you ready?” you ask, double checking her hands for any loose nails.

She grins as wide as she does right before every show, eyes bright and sparkling like a child on Christmas. “Hell yeah.”

As her intro song starts you scurry away to find your way to the bar, hoping to grab something strong before the show really starts. You don’t really like attending your friend’s (or anyone’s) drag shows, they’re loud and crowded and normally that’s your definition of Hell. Sometimes, though, you can muster up the energy. For whatever reason, today seems to be one of those days. Or nights.

Whatever. Time is an illusion.

The first few beats of the song are long, edited for artificial pauses to build excitement in the crowd. You know the version of Lady Gaga’s Applause well, so it throws your entire brain through a loop when someone pumps into you when you try and grab your rum and coke.

“Sorry,” the guy hisses, immediately moving to make sure he didn’t spill any of his wine cooler on you. You’re about to brush him off, thinking he’s just another guy trying to cop a feel while the main attraction distracts from any protective butches within eye shot. But when you notice he’s carefully avoiding your chest – and pulling away when he notices the lack of dampness on your sternum – you allow yourself to give him a half glance at the brick wall of a man in front of you.

God, you’re so ashamed you noticed that. You’re also ashamed to notice his thick thighs, massive arms, silver hand with black lining, his perfectly mused brown-black hair, and beautiful scruff.

“H-hi,” you stutter, deep exhale one close to dramatic women in movies when they think they’ve seen God. Good luck ladies, I’ve already found him – he’s in the shadiest gay bar in NYC. you think as he shyly smiles at you with cheeks you want to shove between your thighs and lips you want attached to your-

“I’m so sorry,” he tells you, checking again to make sure he didn’t turn your shirt into a bar tap. “I got distracted by-“

You sigh. Of course, he was looking at Lucy. “It’s fine, really, I promise.”

In a brief pause between songs, you two lock eyes. Grey-green ones meet your own and fuck, he’s so dreamy.

“I’m,” he seems hesitant to introduce himself. “Bucky. Name’s Bucky.”

You murmur your own name while looking him up and down again. Black combat boots perfectly shined, black jeans tight enough to rival your own, and black hoodie thick enough for winter in Upstate Main.

“Aren’t you hot?” you blurt, alcohol loosening your brain’s tight grip on your thoughts.

The man, Bucky, shrugs. “I run pretty cold.”

Another few moments of silence dialogue between you two - and judging by his set jaw and the hungry look in his eyes he’s thinking the same thing you are.

But, if you’re anything besides an introverted stylist, seamstress, and occasional therapist for the person up on the stage…it’s a tease.

You lean towards Bucky’s ear, music starting up again. “Wanna come join me close to the stage?”

He smiles, picking his drink back up. “Sure thing.”

Lucy, as always, is dressed to impress. Or scare small children.

Either way one perceives her, she’s killing it.

The large, sheer nightgown’s puffed sleeves make the look even more dramatic. The black contrasts extremely nicely with her large platinum blonde hair, and combined with her large, maroon lips and thick, pointed eyeliner - it’s a nice reminder that drag is both an art and something weird as hell. Watching your best friend to what they love and truly one of the best experiences of your life.

The pair of you are off stage left, Lucy on the other side grinding on some speakers. As some Nicki Minaj song plays, you can feel Bucky bounce to the beat behind you. He’s got a surprising amount of rhythm, and as your hips sync his body presses closer and closer to your own. It doesn’t take long, maybe half a chorus for it to turn into full-on grinding, your ass pressed into his crotch so hard you’re worried he’s going to be bruised when he wakes up tomorrow.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, though, nipping at the outer shell of your ear with his lips pressed into the tender skin.

“You do this kind of thing often?” he asks, already deep voice now at a low growl.

You shake your head, moving to take another sip of your drink before answering. “Not really, but Lucy is my best friend so sometimes I get dragged,” you snort a little at your unintentional pun. “To shows and stuff.”

Bucky snickers a little. “That’s totally not what I was asking about, but you also don’t seem like the person who’d be friends with Boudoir Z.”

Your cheeks immediately heat hotter than the Equator as you attempt to backpedal. After a few seconds of stammering, though, the liquid courage surging through your veins comes to a head. “Can I suck your dick?”

You turn to face the man behind you, who seems just as surprised at your inquiry as you are. Still, with his eyebrows raised to his hairlines and his eyes wide, he agrees. “Fuck yeah, lead the way.”

The bathrooms here are surprisingly clean, even if the lock of the door doesn’t quite work. But, judging by the second Pink song of the night, you’ve got awhile before the masses become unoccupied and their bladders realize how much alcohol they’ve consumed.

He shoves you against the tiled wall, lips plush and a stark contrast to his scratchy beard. You want it between your thighs, you sigh into his mouth and a wave of heat rolls through your center. But that’ll have to wait for another time.

Locating his zipper as you kiss him is hard, but not impossible, and soon you’re able to free his cock from its painful confines. Bucky gasps at the rush of cold air, a sound that turns into a deep moan when you wrap an eager hand around him. Maybe some other time, some other night when you’re not fueled purely by endorphins, caffeine, and several glasses of bottom-shelf alcohol, you’d do some foreplay, maybe some dirty talk.

Now, though, your mouth waters at the sign of his hard length, and before Bucky can even get a good grip on your hair you’re spitting on him before taking him as far as your throat permits. He moans deep and guttural, jaw going slack and head leaning against the wall. One of his hands feels cool on your head and it’s nearly sobering, how the freezing material feels against the fire dancing across your skin. You’d question the (seemingly) nonhuman appendage, but the progressive soaking of your underwear and his cursing brings your focus to a pinpoint.

Every single one of his “oh fuck”s and “oh baby that feels so good”s drive you to take him harder, faster, and all too soon Bucky’s getting the message and fucking into your throat. Spit falls from your jaw to between your knees, some slick reminder of how gross this is. That only pushes you, though, to wrap a hand around his base with the other massaging his balls.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as both hands wrap around him. “Gonna fucking come down your throat, fuck.”

Fuck yes he is, you think, shoving him back down your throat one last time before the grip on your scalp gets impossibly tight and his thrusts suddenly still and his lets out the deepest, most erotic noise you’ve ever heard in your entire fucking life. The salty taste of him rolls down your tongue and down your throat, his whole body tense as he shoots his load into your mouth.

The second he releases your hair you fall back against the sink, air you’re gulping tainted with the taste of Bucky’s cum. He seems stunned, a little out of it, but still offers to reciprocate. It’s then you realize that Patti LaBelle is playing, and if you’re remembering the song correctly, you’ve got thirty seconds to be backstage and ready to help your best friend get de-dragged.

“Fuck, I gotta go,” you hiss, splashing cold water on your face and trying to calm your ragged breaths. Just before you can open the bathroom door, though, Bucky stops you.

“Wait, just,” he huffs, digging in his pockets for something. Quickly he produces a phone, and he hands it you with the “new contact screen” on it. “Please, give me your number.”

It’s obvious he’s the stronger of both of you, so you slam your fingers on the cracked screen to string together your phone number. It seems the man’s satisfied, because he releases the ajar door from your grip and lets you flee backstage. Lucy comes off just in time for you to meet her, ready with make up wipes and chapstick. Instead of taking both from you, though, she brushes past you to grab at a bottle of water – a surefire sign she’s not done.

You begin to protest, knowing she’s too drunk to lip sync to choral music, let alone her traditional encore playlist. But she waves you off.

“I’m just going to meet some people at the bar take some pics,” Lucy downs the entire 32 ounces of water in record time, barely getting any lipstick on the mouth of the thing. “Don’t worry, just…I don’t know,” she rolls her eyes at her own inability to speak. “Go kill a Westboro Baptist Church member or something, alright? Just…” she hiccups and starts to lean to the right, but adjusts herself before you can do anything. You steady her with a hand on her shoulder, and she lowers her face to yours and juts her lower lip out to pout. “Just wait up for me, okay. I don’t think I can find my way home alone.”

Before you can respond she pushes past you and into the screaming crowd, her shouts and shrieks almost as loud. A quick scan of the dimly-lit bar reveals no Bucky, and without his number you’re stuck putting her reveals back together and unused the unused supplies.

At the end of the night you meet Lucy back where you left her – only this time in black leggings and a purple NARAL shirt shirt three-sizes too big. As she wipes away at the thick cosmetic mask with a dirty make up wipe, your eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“I saw you with some guy tonight,” a smirk paints her lips as heat paints your cheeks. “Did anything happen?”

You bite at your bottom lip, hoping she won’t press further. Luckily, she remains covert, just giving you a once over before speaking again.

“Are you gonna run off with him and abandon me to do all my drag shit by myself?” She asks. Lucy’s tone is playful, but you can tell there’s a hint of seriousness to it.

You shake your head, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and tucking your hands into your jean pockets. “C’mon, you know I’d never do that. You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?”

Lucy turns around and smiles, perfectly white teeth especially pearly surrounded by the smudged deep purple lipstick and thick, black eyeshadow, a misplaced lash, and what looks to be a twenty-dollar bill stuck behind her ear due to excess wig glue. “Good, because there’s no way I could do Boudoir Z without you.”

Silence settles over both of you as she wipes off the rest of her make up (and pulls out the cash stuck in her hair and to her neck). The only sounds are her throwing loose powders and eye shadow into her make up suitcase and, soon, your phone vibrating in your back pocket. On the screen flashes a text from an unknown number, Bucky you think, and then another right after.

wanna see you again

when are you free

You smile at the screen, giddy like a middle schooler being asked out by her crush. “Hey, Luce…” you wait until she’s facing you to continue. “When’s your next show?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge #like idk what came over me but...#im not ashamed and refuse to be #lukis writes stuff #i finished this in less than an afternoon #like i wrote 2k so quick wtf

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truthbeetoldmedia · 6 years ago

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The 100 6x07 "Nevermind" Review

Hello fellow watchers! Did y’all breathe a sigh of relief as I did at the end of this episode? And while I’m at it, I'd like to take this moment to say: I LOVE when TV shows address mental and emotional traumas in a physical way in the characters heads. Give me Sherlock mind palace games all freaking day! That said, let's dive into the episode:

Dad, I had the strangest dream...

We pick up exactly where we left off in “Memento Mori”: Jaux!Clarke going to sleep in the real world and real Clarke waking up in her old Ark cell inside her own mind, surrounded by all of her most impactful memories decorating the walls like hipster graffiti art in an Asheville alleyway. She “hears” her memories as she touches them and walks through the exit door, only to stumble into her “sanctuary” (aka the real church she raised Madi in for 6 years) and be greeted by her dead father. Or rather, her memories of her father being animated by her subconscious. He’s all kindness and warmth when he asks her, “What's the last thing you remember?” She realizes with a start “I died” but, as her father points out, she still has a beating heart. As her BFF Bellamy Blake asked once: “Are we still breathing?” as a response to “Is there still hope?” And that beating heart is all Clarke needs to get her survival spark back.

She enters the next door in her mind and is face to face with none other than A.L.I.E. (Welcome back, Erica Cerra! We’ve all missed you...mostly.) A.L.I.E. gives Clarke the 4-1-1 on how she is still able to have her memories and a foothold in her own mind. Of course A.L.I.E. is all like “I tried to save you from this pain” but Clarke still has zero patience for even her memory version of this show’s “Woman in Red”, telling A.L.I.E. “there is no joy without pain.” She does however follow A.L.I.E.’s advice and takes her memory of saving Raven from the chip and hides it. A.L.I.E. also mentions Clarke’s darkest memories, her ‘traumas’ if you will, and how she can’t “let them go”, still being things she just buries rather than face or make peace with. She tells A.L.I.E., her voice littered with confusion, “You say these are my memories but there’s something here I’ve never seen.”

Josephine enters stage left

That something is a rather jolly door, decorated for Christmas, with a mix of music, screaming, and gunshots coming from behind it. Clarke opens the door only to be startled by Ms. Josephine herself, in her original body (I’m assuming in her mind that is how she sees herself) walking through from her memories right into Clarke’s...

She takes a minute to give some fake science facts about how both their minds can share a body, but not forever, so somebody’s gotta vacate Clarke Griffin town...and Josephine doesn’t have a body to return to, talk about an awkward roommate situation. Clarke has suffered and survived too much to just give her body over to Josephine willingly. So a battle of the wits it is.

Josephine gives us some unsettling deeper looks into perfecting the mind wipes — she was “jacked” into people with active minds before, including a six-month-old. Lovely girl. But they weren’t tech-advanced minds like Clarke’s so Josephine needs to know what makes Clarke’s mind so special. I love this kind of expositional dialogue when you are getting much needed information, and the headspace of the speaker, and Josephine is the perfect mix of this. She is ruthless, a sociopath as Clarke calls her, or psychopath — take your pick. She gets Clarke thinking so she can infiltrate her thoughts. Upon seeing Clarke’s ‘cell’ covered in all of her memory sketches, Josephine’s “I rescind my compliment” was a great line. I am a big fan of using Josephine as an audience insert into Clarke’s mind, as well as a way to callback and maybe even “fix” issues from last season’s jumble of plot. Like when she’s inspecting the sketches and reaches the Madi in a shock collar moment from Season 5 her comment of “child abuse dressed up as protection. Cool” made me actually say “ Yasss! Point out that issue from Season 5, queen!”

“Are you hiding a memory from me, Clarke?” She is one crafty B and I am into a Moriarty/Holmes kind of showdown with these two brilliant and dangerous ladies.

Of course it manifests as a physical fight, too. As they are fighting for control over Clarke’s body Clarke goes straight gang fight and slams Josephine’s head in the door jamb over and over until she is “dead” — but this being a mind fight she easily manifests in Clarke’s mind again, ready to fight. Clarke, brave but never dumb, decides running and hiding in her own mind might buy her some time.

The ghosts of choices: past, present, and future

Clarke’s first stop in her memory maze is her most recent bad decision that haunts her daily: leaving Bellamy to die in the fighting pit. But weirdly it’s a projection of Octavia there to guilt and shame her: “I really thought you cared about Bellamy.” The explanation that Octavia gives for Bellamy not being in the memory himself (because Clarke can’t stand the idea of facing him) is both a great idea, and a weak one? Because the deep trauma they’ve been through

TOGETHER would have made Clarke’s memories and reactions so much more emotional and visceral had Bellamy been there talking to her at some point. (If they don’t give Clarke a mind/memory moment with Bellamy this season, they will be wasting the opportunity for cathartic angst between main characters most writers DREAM about.)

Still, Clarke’s desperate tearful pleas of “he forgave me, he understands” was a great moment to reiterate the importance of Bellamy’s forgiveness and what he thinks about Clarke. Josephine’s comment “even your projections hate you Clarke” really hit me in the feels. Clarke hates herself so much that she injects it into how she thinks other people in her life perceive her. (With Octavia, she’s probably not wrong.)

Clarke runs from her ‘leaving Bellamy’ memory right into the cold arms of her decisions at ‘Mt. Weather’ and the horribly disfigured mind ghost of Maya Vie, one of the shows most true and noble heroes. It was so great to see her back! Though if Jasper or Bellamy had been in Mt. Weather along with her I think the emotional impact would’ve been greater. Still Maya’s snarky yet cutting “too bad I wasn’t in that group, huh?” when Clarke pulls out her classic “my people” line was perfect.

Clarke’s choices have left a lot of dead bodies behind and she has never had the proper time and headspace to deal with the impact those choices have had on her own mind, body, and soul. I’m hoping one good thing that can come out of her being a hostage in her own body is that she will come back having worked through a lot of her issues in her mind and emotions. I mean I can at least dream about this possibility, okay?

Creepy Maya making Clarke realize she’s in control of her thoughts and memories was great. Josephine falling for her trap because she is so used to being in control of the situation was such a nice way to reveal she has weaknesses just like Clarke, hers being extreme hubris.

Clarke saying “Me? I’ll find a way to survive. I always do” was such a “yassss! That’s my Clarke Griffin!” moment for me.

Also Josephine letting herself get shocked to “death” because she’s bored was such a nice touch to show her level of crazy town.

Finally we get to “that place”, the dark traumatic place Clarke hides her darkest, most hurtful memories: through the airlock she watched her dad get sucked out of and into the woods where the memories of the deaths of her only (so far) romantic partners are hiding. The first one being Finn, literally dying at her own hand because of Lexa! That should’ve been conveyed more, because it makes the fact that she loved and mourned Lexa even more traumatic and dark. But they seem to want to erase all the bad things Lexa did...which makes no sense to me but I digress. And in the lockbox two other deep loves are represented in the video of her dad and Jasper’s goggles. Also I teared up when Josephine tried to get the box open and Clarke finally gives in because she thinks Bellamy has given up the fight, so why shouldn’t she? And she puts in the code 0102 and tells her “you forgot Bellamy and Raven.” Ouch! My delinquent loving heart felt that pain deep. (I miss Season 1 so much sometimes guys!)

“Tell Madi I love her. Tell them all.” Bless her heart she was finally starting to live again and then they stole her and basically forced her to kill herself at gunpoint. But this brings us to my personal favorite cameo and part of the episode:

Hello to my son Monty Green! I love that Monty is the only version of a friend in Clarke’s memory that isn’t hostile towards her? Or mad at her? Clarke knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Monty Green loved her dearly and trusted her and Bellamy to take care of his only child. I love that Monty is the manifestation of Clarke’s moral center but also of her self love and problem solving. He’s the motivation to do better for her. And his comment “you call this doing better?” is both sad and satisfying! Leave it to the person who literally saved part of the human race to imprint his way of thinking on to her.

Of course his chat gets her motivated to not go down without a fight. When he offered her his hand...I got a little misty eyed. I miss him so much. Money suggesting entering Josephine’s mind was a great way to get to know what makes her tick. And YIKE! Her mind is a dark place. Seeing her best friend end up being her killer because Josephine killed her lover, and then seeing WHY she killed said lover: he was against oblation, aka literally leaving newborns to be slowly eaten by the forest. One of the darkest things this show has revealed (and that’s saying something) to try and keep the bloodlines “pure” for Primes. That’s some serious post apocalyptic Nazi thinking to be sure.

I love the fact that Josephine’s memories are categorized chronologically basically using the dewey decimal system because she is extra af, and of course the idea that if they can access her traumas they can control her body because our deep-seated traumas are the key to who we are as people is something you could unpack for days. Monty’s quip “I like your drawings better”, which is really Clarke saying that to herself, was a nice nod to Clarke at heart being a creative more than an analyst, if people would just let her live. LITERALLY.

So they break in to Josephine’s first trauma I’m assuming? And boy howdy it’s a doozy. College age Josephine is working away at homework (judging by the Christmas decor in the Riverdale-ish diner cramming for finals.) It’s neat to see the world before the bombs. The newspaper with Diyoza’s capture story, the magazine with Becca gracing the cover like a Fortune 500 queen. I love world building. Anyway back to the scene:

Josephine and her friend’s studying is interrupted by a very uncomfortably realistic “nice guy” taking over their space and demanding Josephine’s attention and time. Only when she says no he turns threatening and violent, tapping the handgun he places on the table — only to use the weapon on himself as he lays the blame of his own choices at Josephine’s feet, his warm blood misting her face. All of us women have had a moment where we’ve prayed this person in front of us didn’t do something like this, or worse, to us. It triggers Josephine’s mind to the point that she comes after Clarke in a fury, tossing her out of her mind and not noticing she left her clever side (Monty) in the diner. Bravo Clarke! Also I would like to mention I know what happened to Josephine would be traumatic, but I feel Clarke has endured way worse? So kudos to Clarke Griffin for always being stronger than her darkest moment.

“I win” are Josephine’s first words upon waking up still in control of Clarke’s body (or so she thinks), with just a little nosebleed but she’s back among the living! And she knows how to permanently erase Clarke’s mind. Josephine’s day is starting much better than her previous night...or is it?

Because as she enters the room with her father and Bellamy negotiating for team space pops! to have a home. Bellamy “if we pretend you didn’t murder Clarke” Blake (as always his dramatic self) notices a “new” tic Jaux!Clarke has picked up, finger tapping...and upon further study he notices a pattern:

She’s tapping out a message! In Morse code!! (Shoutout to Earth Skills teacher Charles Pike! You legend!) Clarke Griffin is pulling a Will from Stranger Things and calling Bellamy through blinking the Christmas lights of the diner into Morse code. And he’s finally “ in range” for her 2200th message! He knows within two seconds it’s her trying to tell him she’s alive. There is no doubt, all bets are off, Clarke Griffin is ALIVE. “We’re gonna get her back” he says to Miller, smiling. Screw peace. It’s not worth it if she isn’t in this world to share it. Heart Bellamy is back, benches! AND I AM HERE FOR IT.

Final thoughts and tidbits:

I really wish they would’ve shown an old scene of Wells since they couldn’t get it worked out to have Eli Goree back.

I loved the tight dialogue scenes and limited character focus again in this episode. There’s just too many characters to focus on all at once. On that note: my kingdom for a Bellamy-centric episode where we get to hear his innermost fears, hopes, thoughts. Give it to me.

I really loved the concept of this episode and how it reminded me that this is the same Clarke Griffin from the pilot, and the Mt. Weather. Sometimes this show feels it’s grown too far from its roots.

Eliza has become so good at micro expressions.

I love Josephine as the “Anti-Clarke”: she’s smart, artistic, cute, blonde, and deadly. Just like Clarke, but where Clarke wants everyone to have a chance at life,only using her power when she feels cornered, Josephine enjoys being privileged and judging who’s fit to live from her seat of power. She likes playing God. Clarke loathes it. Josephine and Sanctum are a physical manifestation of all the “big bads” this show has ever had: there’s some A.L.I.E, Lexa, Dante, Cage, Pike, Diyoza, Octavia,McCreary, Nia AND Clarke at her most ruthless wrapped up and baked into Josephine and the people of Sanctum. Echoing all the lessons learned, and not, throughout the seasons. It’s working really well for this season.

Check back next week for our thoughts on “operation get Clarke back” here at TBT!

Gina’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

The 100 airs Tuesdays at 9/8c on the CW.

#The 100 #Nevermind

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