#but father i love him!! i want to use his curly hair as an anchor as i {REDACTED FILTH}

[acapelladitty]

Batman'89 Scarecrow - Stifled

Summary: In costume and in desperate need of a little release, Jonathan indulges in some auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Fic Masterlist // Link to AO3

(And please enjoy this paired art piece by the wonderfully skilled @wingedqueenlynx)

His costume a comforting weight against his thin frame, Jonathan settled against the sheets of his bed with a stuttering sigh as he exhaled deeply. Rolling his hands through his plume of curled hair, the soft pull of the strands made him extend his neck, a satisfying pop echoing from the left side of his throat.

Air more heated than he would have liked, a fact made worse by the heavy costume which pinned him in place, his hands slipped down towards his groin with a casualness that belied the slight tremor in the digits as they fought to free his half-hard cock from within the layers of fabric. With its familiar leftward tilt, his cock felt hot in his hand as he quickly stroked himself to hardness - the anticipation of his play sparking a guttural arousal which make his cock twitch.

Curling his fingers around his mask and the noose which looped loosely around its base, Jonathan released his cock long enough to slip the burlap cover over his face. It slid on like a second skin - his true face - and with it came a focus which made his skin itch with the need for something more, for a release that was long overdue.

His vision blurred from the lack of glasses or contacts he typically wore with the mask, the rest of his senses felt strengthened as he indulged in the scent of the burlap, earthy and wicked, and the way that it brushed the end of his proud nose. Cock neglected for the moment, he felt his balls tighten as his fingers curled around the knot of the noose.

Groaning as he tightened the noose around his neck to the point of constriction, the discomfort of his mask as it pressed into his vulnerable skin made his cock jerk untouched. He need this, deserved this, and he would take what he needed while ignoring the shame. One hand hanging loosely on the knot as he fought to breathe around it, his other hand snaked it ways down his chest, only pausing at his covered nipples to brush them roughly, indulging in the added stimulation before wrapping firmly around his cock once more.

The feel of his mask digging into his neck, pulled taut by his noose as it slowly strangled him, was deliciously painful with the added benefit of not leaving livid ropemarks against his skin. The burlap restricted his air at the best of times and the fabric pulled tight against his lips as he fought to inhale deeply, the tip of his nose scouring against the rough material with every shaky breath.

His free hand, the one not currently trained on his noose, stroked along his cock with a patient rhythm as it slowly drew every ounce of pleasure that it could. Painfully hard, the pulsing discomfort in his head was reflected in his cock as it throbbed in tandem.

Chest heaving as his lungs started to burn from the consistent lack of oxygen, the hot pleasure in his groin only grew more intense as the pressure in his head steadily built - his body struggling and writhing in place as his hand fisted along his cock messily. Pre-cum leaked freely from his slit, the moisture making his hand move with greater ease as he alternated stroking his length with brushing his palm across the head and rolling his balls between his rough fingers.

Grunting and whining, the noises slip free of his mask quietly as he chases his own pleasure. A familiar shame settles across his skin, the shame of having to give in to such base desires and depravity, but the heat of embarrassment only serves to stoke his arousal.

Head pounding, Jonathan lost himself in fantasy. His thoughts were erratic, slipping between visuals of that pretty brunette who dealt with his various journal requests at the local library to the new receptionist at the asylum whose perfume reminded him of wild flowers. However, such fantasies were quick to turn as his fingers picked up their pace across his velvety cock.

Soft touches dissolved into rough handling, his hand wrapping around a panicking throat as anxious pants grew into wails of terror. His toxin quickly disappearing from the syringe as it found itself plunged into an unwilling vein. Screaming and begging for a mercy which could never come as he pushed his work to higher and higher levels.

Jonathan came with a shuddering groan, his release spreading across his fingers as the pressure in his head grew to a point where his vision started to dull around the edges. It was too much and yet not enough as he continued to stroke along his cock despite the fact that the overstimulation was quick to make every motion feel as terrible as it were brilliant.

His vision starting to darken further, Jonathan took a moment to loosen the knot around his neck and immediately inhale grateful lungfuls of air as his chest burned. His body overheated and sensitive, every trembling jerk of his cock drew a bestiary grunt from his aching throat as he forced himself to feel the comedown.

The mask feeling suddenly unbearable, his hands moved shakily as they pulled the material free of his head - releasing his face from the cloying heat and rapidly stroking his fingers through his curled hair as he fought to quell the heaving movements of his chest.

Glancing down, Jonathan regarded the spend across his fingers with mild disgust, wiping it off on a nearby handkerchief to prevent any excess mess from staining his beloved costume. Exhausted and fighting a headache brought on by his oxygen deprivation, his body relaxed fully as he enjoyed the peace for the few moments he would allow himself to indulge it.

[footballfanficwriter]

1st to many

Summary:where Jude wins his first Champions league trophy

The atmosphere in the stadium was electric. The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, but all I could focus on was the man in the white home kit moving effortlessly across the pitch. Jude. My husband. The love of my life. Our son, Louis, was bouncing excitedly beside me, his little hands clutching the edges of his seat as he watched his father in awe. As nerve-wracking as he was the day before, I could see his determination and focus now.

"Mommy, look at Daddy! He's so fast!" Louis exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

I smiled down at him, ruffling his curly hair. "Yes, sweetheart. Daddy's amazing, isn't he?"

The match was intense, a true nail-biter. Real Madrid were fighting for every inch of the field, and it seemed like the entire stadium held its breath each time the ball neared the goal. My heart pounded with every pass, every tackle, and every shot. Then, in the 67th minute, it happened. A corner kick delivered by Toni Kroos in the air headed the ball and sent the it  sailing into the net. The stadium erupted into cheers, and I found myself screaming along with them, tears of joy streaming down my face at the end of the game it was 0-2 and Madrid had won

"They did it, Louis! They won!" I shouted, scooping him into my arms and spinning him around.

Louis giggled, his excitement matching mine. "Daddy's the best!"

As the final whistle blew, confirming their victory, the players collapsed onto the field, exhausted but triumphant. The commentator's voice echoed through the stadium, announcing the team's first Champions League win in 2 years. The player's names were chanted by thousands of fans, but Jude's  eyes searched the stands until they found us. He gave a little wave, and I blew him a kiss, mouthing the words, "I'm so proud of you."

After a few minutes of celebration on the pitch, Jude was called for a short post-match interview. He stood there, still catching his breath, as the interviewer began.

"Jude, congratulations on your incredible win! How are you feeling right now?"

"Thank you so much. Honestly, it's hard to put into words. This victory means the world to me. The adrenaline is still pumping, and I'm just overwhelmed with joy and gratitude."

"You've mentioned before that your family's support means everything to you. Can you tell us more about that?"

"Absolutely. My wife and our son, Louis, they're my rock. They've been with me every step of the way, cheering me on through the highs and lows. I couldn't have achieved this without them."

"And how does it feel to have them here with you tonight?"

"It's everything. Knowing they're in the stands, supporting me, it gives me that extra boost of motivation. Louis's face lights up when he sees me on the pitch, and my wife, she's my anchor. I'm just so grateful to have them by my side."

"You've certainly made a lot of people proud tonight. Any final words?"

"I just want to thank everyone who's supported me along this journey, especially my family. This win is as much theirs as it is mine. And to Y/n , I love you more than words can express. Thank you for being my rock, my everything."

"Any plans for the rest of the evening?"

"Just soaking it all in, really. I'm just happy. Now, I have to go and find my wife and son. They're waiting for me, and I can't wait to celebrate with them."

With that, Jude's eyes sparkled with excitement, and he bid the interviewer farewell before quickly making his way to the stands, where Louis and I were eagerly waiting for him.

"You did it, Daddy!" Louis squealed, wrapping his arms around Jude's neck.

Jude laughed, pulling him close. "We did it, little man. We did it."

Then he turned to me, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. He reached out and pulled me into a tight embrace. "I couldn't have done it without you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

I stroked his back, feeling his body tremble with relief and happiness. "I'm so proud of you, Jude. You've worked so hard for this."

He hugged me tighter, burying his face in my shoulder. "Don't let go," he murmured. "I just want to take this moment in."

We stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, as the world celebrated around us. As he pulled back slightly, I noticed the goosebumps on his arms. "Aren't you cold?" I asked, concerned. "You can take my jacket."

He shook his head, a wide smile on his face. "No, it's fine. The adrenaline is keeping me warm. I'm okay."

We laughed, and I kissed him softly, feeling the warmth of his lips. He took my hand, and together we walked onto the field, Louis perched happily on Jude's shoulders. The stadium was a whirlwind of celebration, with fans cheering, confetti falling, and cameras flashing. We joined Jude's teammates and their families, sharing hugs and congratulations. Louis quickly found some of the other children and started playing, their laughter ringing out across the field.

"Can you believe this?" Jude asked, his voice filled with wonder as he watched Louis and the other kids running around, pretending to be their football heroes.

I smiled, squeezing his hand. "It's surreal. I'm so happy for you, Jude. You've achieved your dream."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "And I couldn't have done it without you. Your support, your love—it means everything to me."

We continued our tour, mingling with the other players and their wives. When Toni came over with his wife, and their three children.

"Congratulations, Jude!" Toni said, clapping Jude on the back. "You were incredible out there."

"Thanks, mate," Jude replied, smiling broadly. "We all were. It was a team effort, just sad to see you go man.

"I know, but my time has come it's time for me to make room for the next Generation, I need to make room for people like you"

Jude smiled at Toni and they embraced eachother when all of a sudden

Toni's  hugged me, her eyes shining. "How are you holding up? That was an intense match!"

I laughed, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through me. "I'm just so relieved it's over and that they won! It's like a dream come true."

Our conversation was interrupted by Louis running over, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mommy, Daddy, look! I'm playing with the big kids!"

Jude laughed, lifting him up. "You're doing great, buddy. One day, you might be out here playing for real."

Louis's eyes sparkled. "Really, Daddy? You think I can?"

"Of course, I do," Jude said, ruffling his hair. "With hard work and determination, you can do anything."

As we walked around the pitch, we took photos and videos to capture every precious moment. Jude and I posed with the trophy, Louis standing proudly between us, his tiny hands resting on the gleaming cup.

"This is for the memories," Jude said, his voice soft and full of emotion as he snapped a selfie of us.

"For the memories," I echoed, my heart swelling with love and pride.

Later, we joined the other families in a group photo, everyone beaming with joy. The children were all gathered in front, their smiles bright and infectious. It was a beautiful scene, one that embodied the spirit of teamwork, dedication, and love.

As the celebrations slowly wound down, we found a quiet moment to sit together on the grass, watching Louis play nearby with the other kids.

"Can you believe this?" Jude asked, his voice filled with wonder. "We did it."

I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth and strength. "Yes, we did. And I couldn't be happier."

Jude wrapped his arm around me, holding me close. "This is just the beginning," he said. "With you and Louis by my side, I feel like I can achieve anything."

I smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "We'll always be here for you, Jude. No matter what."

As we sat there, surrounded by the remnants of celebration and the echoes of cheers, I knew that this moment would be etched in our hearts forever. It was the culmination of years of hard work, sacrifice, and unwavering support. And it was a testament to the power of love and family.

Jude glanced down at his phone, which had been buzzing with messages of congratulations. He smiled and took a quick selfie of us, capturing our joy and love in that perfect moment. "For the memories," he said, showing me the photo.

I nodded, my heart swelling with love. "For the memories," I echoed.

As the night drew to a close, we gathered our things and made our way off the pitch. Louis was half-asleep in Jude's arms, worn out from all the excitement. We walked hand-in-hand, leaving the stadium behind but carrying the night's magic with us.

In the car, Jude looked back at the stadium one last time, a look of fulfillment and determination on his face. "This is just the beginning," he repeated, more to himself than to me.

I squeezed his hand, feeling the strength of our bond and the promise of our future. "And we'll be with you every step of the way."

As we drove home, the city lights shining brightly around us, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together. Jude had achieved his dream, and in doing so, he had shown us all the true power of perseverance, love, and family.

When we arrived home, Louis was sound asleep in Jude's arms. Jude carried him upstairs and gently placed him in his bed, tucking him in with a kiss on his forehead. I stood in the doorway, watching this tender moment, my heart swelling with love.

"You really are an amazing father," I whispered as Jude joined me, closing Louis's door softly.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. "And you're an amazing mother and wife. I couldn't have done any of this without you."

We walked to our bedroom, the excitement of the day slowly giving way to a peaceful calm. As we got ready for bed, Jude turned to me, his eyes filled with a deep, abiding love.

Jude and I lie in bed, still buzzing from the excitement of the day's events. I open my phone and scroll through social media, reading the countless messages of congratulations and admiration for Jude and our family. People are buzzing about how Jude celebrated his first Champions League victory with his family, highlighting his heartfelt words about us in the interview.

I read some of the headlines aloud to Jude:

“Jude Bellingham’s Heartwarming Tribute to His Family After Champions League Win”

“Jude Bellingham Celebrates Victory with Wife and Son – Fans Are Melting!”

“Champions League Hero: Jude Bellingham’s Emotional Speech on Family and Success”

“Jude Bellingham’s Adorable Celebration with His Wife and Son Captivates Fans”

“Jude Bellingham Dedicates Champions League Win to His Loving Family”

Switching to Instagram, I see a flood of comments under the photos and videos we posted:

jobebellingham: You guys are such an amazing family! So happy for you! 🥰

toby: What a beautiful moment! You and Jude are an inspiration. ❤️

noah: This is what football is all about. Much love to you and your family! 💪🏽👏🏽

vinijr: Seeing the love between you guys is incredible. Congrats! 🙌🏽✨

camavinga: Your support for Jude is everything. Proud of you all! 💖🙌🏽

lukamodric10: Family goals right here. Enjoy this moment! 🏆💫

toni.kr8s: Such a beautiful family. Well deserved win! 😊🙌🏽

rodrygogoes: So much love in these photos. Congratulations! ❤️🔥

toniruediger: Amazing to see you guys so happy. Well done! 👏🏽👏🏽

dani.carvajal2: What a night! Beautiful family moments. Congrats! 🎉💪🏽

ferland_mendy: So happy for you guys! Enjoy the victory! ⚽❤️

nachofi1990: Family and football, the perfect combination. Congrats! 👏🏽😊

alaba_david: Beautiful to see you all so happy. Big congrats! 🌟🙌🏽

davidluiz_4: This is what dreams are made of! Congrats to you all! 🌟❤️

sergioramos: Family first, always. Proud of you, brother! 💪🏼👨‍👩‍👦‍👦

karimbenzema: Seeing you celebrate with your family warms my heart. Congrats, Jude! 🙌🏽💯

raphaelvarane: Beautiful family moments. Congratulations on the win, Jude! 🎉🏆

edenhazard: You're an inspiration, Jude. Congratulations to you and your lovely family! 🌟💖

thibautcourtois: Enjoy these special moments with your loved ones, Jude. You deserve it! 🥂👏🏼

nachofernandez: Family is everything. Congrats on the win, mate! 🙌🏼👨‍👩‍👦

scoalarcon: Seeing you celebrate with your family is priceless. Well done, Jude! 🎉👨‍👩‍👦

federicovalverde: Family time is the best time. Congrats, Jude! 🥳👨‍👩‍👦

eder_militao: Cherish these moments forever, Jude. Congrats 🏆💖

vasquez91: You guys are the definition of #FamilyGoals. Congrats, Jude! 🎉💑

I turn to Jude, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Can you believe this?" I say, my voice filled with wonder.

Jude wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. "I can't believe any of this," he says, his voice soft with awe. "But I know one thing for sure—I couldn't have asked for a better team to share it with."

I snuggle closer to him, feeling his warmth enveloping me and he kisses my forehead. In this moment, surrounded by love and joy, I know that no matter what the future holds, we'll always have each other.

[winniethewife]

Let the tides carry you back to me (Control x F!reader)

Part three: of High water: A Southern Reach Fanfiction

Last part

Words: 832

Control was a broken man. That much she knew from the first time she met his mother. Jackie Severance was not a warm person, and seemed to not care at all that her son had a girlfriend, or that her son existed in general. She was the most cold and distant person she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. The entire dinner Jackie asked very basic questions, where was she from, what did her parents do for a living, what was she studying, But she didn’t seem to care about the answers. She however noticed how much Control stiffened around his mother, only calling her mother, as if it was a formality, something expected of him. The whole night sat wrong with her. But pretty soon she figured out, that’s just how it was with Jackie. Every time they saw her, which wasn’t often, she was like that. Very little to say, and never anything about her. By the time that she went with control to announce their engagement she wasn’t even shocked that the woman didn’t seem to care.

“I hope the wedding goes well, You know I’ll be too busy to attend.” She had said. Control looked hurt, but unsurprised. She however felt a rage in her chest that she had never felt before. When they got home she nearly exploded.

“She’s your mother! And she can’t even find time to come to your wedding?” She had shouted bewildered. Control was eerily calm about it. He was used to being disappointed by his mother. The idea that she wouldn’t likely make time to be at his wedding didn’t surprise him. He would be more surprised if she would make the time for such an occasion.

“I wouldn’t want her there any way.” He lied. She knew, but she didn’t say anything, she loved him so much, but she knew lying to himself was the way he coped with this part. With the neglect, with the distance. The wedding would be small, but good, Controls father would attend, but leave early. Jackie called, and sent her best wishes in a voicemail.

Over the years she would anchor him in the rocky sea that would be his career, his attempt to do what his mother did. Failed attempts at field work. At some point he was doing research work for The Southern Reach. Files of paper work would pile up on their dining room. Pictures on a corkboard in their office. A paper with 11th expedition written on it pinned above several pictures of a group of men. Whenever she entered the office her eyes were drawn to the young man on the far left, dark brown eyes and a curly mop of hair five o’clock shadow. He looked vaguely familiar, one of those faces, she guessed. The whole thing seemed to really bother Control, It didn’t help that he wasn’t at liberty to talk any of this over with his wife.  There were more evenings on the floor with his head in her lap as he tried to bare the weight of it all alone. She knew she couldn’t ask, she knew he couldn’t tell her, but she was growing tired of this.

“Control, you know I’ll always be here, I’ll always support you in whatever you want to do, but, I think you need to tell her no.” She spoke softly but with a steely determination. He had just returned from seeing his mother, she wanted him go run this operation for The Southern Reach. To her it sounded like a terrible idea, well everything about The Southern Reach sounded bad to her, and all she was really allowed to know about it was what it was called.

“Can I? Is it possible to tell her no?” He asked, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with the conflict inside.

“You can always tell her no, she doesn’t run your life, Control. You don’t have to do as she says, you can just…stay here, stay with me, stay safe.” She wasn’t one to plead or beg for anything, but keeping her love safe was more important to her than her pride. Control knew this, and to see her like this was enough to convince him that he needed to do something he had never done before.

“For you darling? For you I would jump in the ocean and, hoping to come back to your shores. I’ll figure out a way to stay if you want me to. Come hell or High water.” He spoke with reverence, like she was the only goddess he’d ever prayed to, or ever would. He reaches up to caress her face in a familiar motion.

“Come hell or High water? Well, I hope I can the light house that brings you to shore. Safely home to me.” She leans into his touch looking into his eyes. Maybe he was broken, maybe he wasn’t like other men, and maybe he was odd. But he was hers.

~

Masterlist

Taglist: @silvernight-m @boredzillenial @reallyrallyauthor @ominoose

[achliegh]

Golden

FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ABOUT HOW YOU LIKED THAT CHAPTER

OR IF YOU DIDN'T LIKE IT PLEASE TELL ME WHY

THANK :)

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 13:

Anchors Away

Clay was bored, wandering around the mall with nothing to do. Thomas was at practice, Noelle was at work at the aquarium. He was alone again and he really didn’t like it. Leo was busy cleaning the apartment for his mom who is showing up later tonight and Reg was hanging out at the rink.

Clay thought about going to the rink but everytime he goes for longer than 20 minutes he gets a head cold. He was walking past a recently closed store and heard faint music coming from inside. He walked in and noticed a small table set up with two men who were jokingly singing along to the song.

Clay took note of all the posters around the small store.

‘Feeling like you need a purpose in life?’ Yeah, he does. Everyone around him is doing actual things with their lives. Reg has started going to art school for errotic photography and portraits. Leo has been selling horses over video calls with rich clients and helping his mother set up times for the clients to go down and visit the horses at the ranch. Obviously, the hockey boys are playing hockey. Noelle is a year away from graduating and was recently promoted, and Clay just kind of existed…

Leo jokingly called him a houseboy when he mentioned how he just stays at home and cleans, now that's all he is ever called by Leo and Reg and it really makes Clay feel worthless. He knows they don’t mean anything by it but…. It still stings.

He moves on to the next poster. “Want financial benefits, healthcare, and more?”

That would be nice, to make his own money for once instead of his parents randomly filling his account with too much money. Something he knows he shouldn’t complain about but he wants to make a name for himself.

‘Join the U.S Navy.’ He paused, he doesn’t know a lot about his birth family, but he does know they were in the military. He has no clue which branch and he knows if he asked his parents they would help him in a heartbeat. But maybe this was a way to find out on his own.

He left the mall feeling lighter, a pep in his step.

He just enlisted in the navy. He was going to make something of himself and maybe even feel like he isn’t just watching his friends and partners pass him by.

Then it hit him, the one thing Leo and him promised each other they would never do is join the military. Because they both know how it fucks people up. Leo lost his uncle, and Clay’s dad lost his own father to PTSD from not having proper care after. Maybe he just screwed up…. But there was no going back now. He wouldn’t.

Walking in the house, Noelle was looking beautiful. She was wearing a pair of sweats rolled up twice at the waist and one of Clay’s old ratty t-shirts. Her curly hair was in her normal ponytail and she was putting on her sneakers. She looked tired from work.

Earlier in the week when Clay and Leo announced Eloise was coming to visit for a few days Noelle started stressing immediately. She has always worried about meeting parents because they always seem to dislike her when they first lay eyes on her, she blames it on her chronic RBF. Clay reassured her that Eloise would love her and actually already loves her from all the stories Clay has told her on her weekly calls.

Eloise was coming tonight, fuck! It was his birthday today and he forgot to mention it! Oops...

Thomas was sitting next to her, freshly showered in his own sweats and t-shirt looking relaxed, he was wearing some socks with little hamsters on them that Clay found for him a while ago. It made his heart jump and he felt his face stretch into a smile. He was scrolling through his phone and Thomas’ whole face opened up in a bright smile as soon as he saw Clay. He made Clay feel so special in a specific way, a way that is so different from how Noelle does and he loves them both.

He needs to tell them that.

“I have something to tell you guys… honestly, I don’t know how you will react but what's done is done.” He puts his hands in his jean pockets and taps the hell of his boots to the toe of his other boot. He was fidgeting and knew the other two noticed. It made him even more nervous.

“That doesn’t sound like good news.” Thomas looks at him a bit worried. His smile was still there but it fell slightly and Clay just wanted to fix it. He noticed Noelle had paused stomping on her shoes, oddly similar to Logan, it made him want to stop what he was going to say but… communication is important!

“Well, I first need you guys to promise me something, then I will make Finn and Logan promise the same thing when we see them because I know I will have to tell them.” He has to tell them, so they are ready for Leo just, not being okay.

And it was all gonna be Clay’s fault.

“What's the promise?” Noelle finishes putting on her shoe and looks up at him. She is trying her best to keep her face neutral but he could tell the wheels were turning in her brain.

“Do not tell Leo, I need to be the one to tell him… and I know he isn’t going to react well. Same goes for Reg but I will probably tell him a lot sooner than Leo.” He keeps on switching his feet that he is tapping and finally looks at them.

It’s now or never.

“I enlisted in the navy today.”

“Okay, Reg and I are going to pick up Ma and then we will be right back!” Leo has been all smiles all day. Finn knew he was close to his mom but this is just adorable.

“Drive safe!” Leo and Reg wave as they leave the apartment and as soon as the door closes Clay is standing in front of Finn and Logan who are snuggled together on the couch. Logan was wrapped up in Leo’s favorite blanket that his grandpa made for him before he passed away. It was a woven blanket with an image of Peanut on it. That blanket has seen Leo and Clay in their worst moments.

He was surprised Logan wasn’t scared of it given his fear of horses.

“Alright you two, I need to tell you something and it needs to be kept secret from Leo and Reg, if you so much as tell them a peep I will never forgive you. That will make family reunions super awkward.” Finn looks up from his phone where he and Logan were reading the comments on their latest tiktok on their joined account.

“Don’t look at me.” Finn raises his hand on surrender and looks at Logan who rolls his eyes annoyed and snatches Finn’s phone away to keep reading the comments.

“I enlisted in the navy-” Clay didn’t even get the full sentence out before Logan had thrown the phone down on the cushion next to him and Finn covered his mouth with his hand looking shocked.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Mama!” Leo hugs Eloise tightly as she drops her bags to hug him back. “How was the flight?” He squeezes her tightly before noticing her new hearing aid is flashing is three blinks then a pause and three more blinks. “I think your hearing aid is dying. Make sure to charge them when we get home.” She either ignores him or doesn’t hear him even though she can normally hear him this close.

“Rick was a great pilot as always, even let me bring y’all some moonshine he made. It's watermelon and raspberry!.” Eloise pulls away after one last squeeze and sees Reg and her smile widens. “Reg! I’m so happy you’re here!” She waits for him to open his arms as an invitation to hug him so she knows he is comfortable with her touching him and she does as soon as he opens his arms. Tighter than she did Leo. “Have you been eating well? How about sleeping? Did you ever enroll in college?”

“Yes, yes and yes.” Reg can’t help but laugh when she picks him up still hugging him and sways him around. He isn’t used to this much affection from a mother figure but… they love it.

“I’m so proud of you for following your dream.” She pulls away and smiles at him with a sincere smile and brushes his hair back. “Your hair looks nice by the way.”

“Thank you.” Reg and Leo help her with her bags and pack them into the truck and drive the short way back to the apartment. Talking about everything and anything. The door man sends a wink Eloise’s way and she holds up her left hand where her wedding ring is. Letting him know she is taken. Walking up to the apartment they smell an odd smell through the door and everyone shares a look.

“I promise it doesn't normally smell this way unless… oh no.”

“What does that mean!?” She leans over to Reg to whisper as Leo fiddles with his key in the lock.

“It means Finn and Logan tried to cook something.” Reg whispers to Eloise as Leo opens the door, Clay was the first to greet them, smiling his million dollar smile he hugs Elosie so tight it surprises her.

“Hello Bluebell! I was surprised I didn’t see you at the airport. How are you doing sweetheart! Twenty years old today! You’re all growing up so fast.” She kisses his forehead and they pull apart. “You look good. Your mother wants you to call her later tonight so she can sing happy birthday.”

“It's your birthday!” Noelle pipes up and looks at Clay offended. “And you didn’t tell us!” He cringes before turning to her.

“Oh, I guess I forgot.” He walks over to her and kisses her cheek while Eloise puts her hand on her chest from just how cute they are.

“Seems like that should have been the first thing you told us this morning instead of, ‘ I feel like a jellyfish’.” Thomas laughs a little and kisses both Noelle and Clay’s cheeks. “So cute.”

“It slipped my mind!”

“Okay, what is that smell?” Leo leads Eloise towards the kitchen after she is done fawning over how cute those three are. Finn and Logan are suspiciously standing in the way of the countertop right next to the stove. “What are you hiding?”

Finn turns bright red and Logan looks anywhere but Leo. Eloise sets her purse on the counter and walks over to them, giving them both kisses on the cheek.

“What did you make us?”

“Well… we tried to make a cake from your cookbook-”

“It didn’t go very well.” They both move to the side to reveal a lopsided cake with some diluted frosting dripping off and random coconut flakes floating around on it. “Can you at least tell what it is?” Logan casually turned the plate so the ‘good side’ was facing Leo and Eloise.

“Umm… not really. Do you mind just telling us?” Eliose was examining the cake, trying to figure out what cinnamon cake she had in her cookbook. None that she can remember.

“Something called,” Finn walks over to the book and notices Clay and Reg standing to the side with their phones up and probably recording. “Divinity Cake.” The room was suddenly really still and quiet. Eloise looked like she was about to cry and Leo was just staring at the cake in shock.

Then Eloise brokedown in laughter, to the point where she was laughing so hard she was on the ground holding her stomach and crying. Finn and Logan were visibly confused and looked to Leo for an explanation, only to find him trying to conceal his laughter in the crooks of his arm.

“Oh my god! What is so funny?” Logan looks at the cookbook and then back at the cake. It looked terrible but they tried their best! They didn’t burn the house down at least.

“Oh my lovely lovely boys.” Leo wraps an arm around both their shoulders and pulls them in close so they are all cheek to cheek for a moment. “Divinity cake is usually cooked for your in-laws in the south.. To prove you are worthy of being a good wife.” explains through his laughing breaks. “This is amazing.”

Eloise eventually stands up and dabs her eyes so she doesn’t smear her makeup. Pulling the two embarrassed boys into a tight hug. “Y’all are so sweet. Thank you for the cake.” She gives them both sloppy kisses on the cheeks and then pats where she just kissed. “Alright I’m going to put my things in the guest room and then we can cook something up for y’all to eat.” She smiles and takes most of her bags to the guest room but forgets her purse. “Finn, would you be a dear and grab my purse for me?” She calls out and Finn being the sweetheart he is, grabs the bag and tries to take it with him as he walks past.

The bag won’t budge, Leo is watching with a smile on his face and his arms crossed. Finn tugs at the bag again and eventually gets it off the counter, it nearly knocks him over with how heavy it is. He scurried to Eloise’s room and gave it to her. She holds it like it’s nothing.

He makes his way back over to Leo and sinks into his chest, his face buried in his neck. Logan is still poking the cake, showing off just how gelatinous it is. Clay and Reg are comparing videos that they took and laughing at how they zoomed in on different faces. Sending them to each other.

“I’m sorry we messed up the cake.” Finn looks up at Leo and sees the sweetest little smile, showing his dimples off. Finn has noticed Leo’s tan from the summer is fading and it is making the small scar across his nose more prominent. It was cute.

“Honestly, it’s better than anything else y’all have made. Plus, now Mama can teach you how to make it the right way for the next time she visits.” Leo kisses his eyebrow and wraps his arms around him as Finn pouts even more. Logan eventually makes his way over and rests his head on Leo’s shoulder.

“Maybe it still tastes good?” He closes his eyes and rubs his cheek on Leo’s soft shirt and tough shoulder, massaging his jaw muscles. His arms are crossed.

“We can try it afte Mama and I make some food, how about y’all pick out what you want so she can put on her mini cooking show.” Leo feels the boys lean off of him and smiles as he watches them pour over each page of the book looking for a meal they want.

“Alright, I’m ready to cook.” Eloise comes back into the room and gathers everyone so they are sitting on the other side of the counter, unless they are Reg or Leo because they are allowed to help cook. Finn and Noelle have taken the two seats while Clay and Thomas are on either side of them watching and Logan is in between them.

They all watch as Eloise explains what she is doing in hopes it helps them understand and make them want to try and make this on their own. Logan gets in trouble for focusing on Leo instead of what she is teaching and she gives him a smirk.

“You remind me a lot of Wyatt, you know that? Around the same height too.” She smiles as she fiddles with her ring after she washed her hands to get the rest of the flour off her hands. Leo is watching the food in the oven as he leans against the counter and nods in agreement with her.

“I do?” Logan looks at her a little confused, he sadly never got the chance to meet Wyatt but he always pictured him as more of the strong and silent type who was also tall, giving Leo his extra few inches of height.

“He was 5’10 and the sweetest man I have ever met, he was goofy and carefree like Finn and always had this hard look in his eyes like you do. Unless he was looking at Leo or I, or in your case Leo. Please don’t look at me like that.” Leo snorts and smiles.

“That would be kinda weird.” He turns his head over his shoulder and smiles at his boys. “Why don’t we tell them some stories about dad? I never really talk about him because… well, it still hurts.” Eloise smiles a little sad at her son and gives his arm a comforting squeeze. Her love language.

“Well, he was in the air force.” She notices Clay looking away, Noelle suddenly looks uncomfortable and Thomas looks a little sad. Something was off. “He and his twin brother Wess joined at the same time, and flew fighter jets together. His brother was shot down and Wyatt made Leo promise to never join. After he came back he vowed to never leave again. He kept his promise.” She smiles at the image of him coming home still fresh in her mind. “He was in love with music, sometimes I think he loved music more than us. He tried to get Leo to learn how to play instruments but the poor boy is so tone deaf he couldn’t figure anything out.” She laughs a little as Leo smiles. “I remember when Leo was being taught the guitar Wyatt would be thrown into laughing fits when Leo would play the wrong chords and smile up at him like he just did something.”

“I thought I did!” Leo laughs a little and turns around to face everyone else. “Look It took me forever to learn rhythm, and now I can dance like there is no tomorrow… still can’t sing though.”

“Ahmen!” Clay pipes up and ducks as Leo throws a spoon at him.

“Shut up!”

“Wyatt did manage to teach Clay how to play fiddle somehow, do you still play?” Eloise checks the food in the oven and determines it's not done.

“I haven’t played since… yeah I haven’t played in a while.”

“He was so proud of you. Wyatt was also a sportsman. He loved sports, especially baseball. So when Leo came home and told Wyatt he joined the team, they went out back and played catch for, I don’t know, hours.”

“My arm was sore the next day.”

“He came to every single game of Leo’s besides one, and was his biggest fan. He made shirts with Leo’s player picture on them and wore them to every game. No matter how many times Leo begged him not to!” The timer goes off and Reg gets the food out of the oven.

“Is this done?” He asks, Eloise comes over to check and nods.

“Looks good! How about we eat?” She smiles and has everyone line up so she can dish it out for them.

Thomas and Noelle are getting ready to leave when Eloise asks Clay to join her outside. He gives them a worried look but follows her. Outside is cold, and there is a bit of snow on the railing of the balcony.

“Talk to me Clayton, something is wrong, I noticed it earlier.” She looks at him and taps her foot as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “Clayton.”

“I joined the navy, and I haven’t told Leo, and I ask that you don’t tell him either because he needs to hear this from me.” He is looking out at the traffic below so he doesn’t have to watch her face. He knows she is upset with him.

“Is that what you really want to do?” She walks up next to him and joins him in looking at the traffic. Clay has always admired how strong Eloise is, she has been through a hell of a lot and still has this calm and stable energy.

“Yes.”

“Then you made the right choice.” She turns and looks at him, smiling in a way that he knows is trying to hide her sadness. She ruffles his hair as he finishes his cig and puts it out on the bottom of his boot. “Have you told Noelle and Thomas?”

“Yeah.” He knows his short answers sound hostile but he wants to be away from this conversation.

“They support you?” She always makes sure he has support, it hurts sometimes. Like he can’t just get support himself and he always needs help.

“Yes.” She nods and walks back towards the door.

“Then you better spend as much time with them as you can.” She goes inside, leaving Clay to think about everything by himself.

It was dangerous.

He walks back inside and they leave. Noelle turns around from the passenger seat and smirks at Clay. He was in for a fun night.

“I’m off to bed boys, we have a busy day tomorrow!” Elosie kisses her boy's cheeks and walks to her room.

“I like you mom.” Logan says as he tackles Leo to the ground straddling his back with his scented markets in hand. He tugs at Leo’s shirt, he complies and takes it off. Logan has been dying to do this all day.

“I hope not too much!” Leo crosses his arms under his head until Finn sits down next to him and he pulls his thigh so it's underneath Leo’s head. Leo shivers as the cold marker hits his skin and Logan begins coloring.

“What other stories do you have about Wyatt?” Finn rubs his fingers over Leo’s short hair that has really grown out over the past month, it was starting to curl at the ends making Leo look sweet.

“He used to read to me when I was little, then when I was able to read I would read to him until he fell asleep and started snoring.” Leo smiles and Finn can feel it on his leg. “He was also my coach for little league baseball for a bit and he was great but not everyone liked that he was my dad. Other parents thought I was getting special treatment. Also he would argue with the umpires and get in trouble!” Leo bursts out laughing and Logan gorans.

“Leoooooooooo! Be still!” Leo calms down and lets Logan keep coloring the flowers of his back piece.

“Sorry sorry, I just remembered when he got kicked out of a game because an umpire called Clay out when he was safe. It was hilarious. He called the umpire a muppet.” Smiling Leo yawns and blinks a few times.

“You can fall asleep, we will wake you up and go to bed when Logan finishes.” Finn is scrolling on his phone and is petting Leo’s head as he feels it get heavier with sleep. Finn looks up at Logan after making sure Leo is asleep.

“We need to tell him we love him.”

“Yeah, we do.” They smile at each other and share a peck before going back to what they were doing.

The next morning Finn and Logan wake up with a Leo sized dent in the bed and not Leo. They wander out to the kitchen and get smacked in the face with the smell of blueberry pancakes. They float into the kitchen and smile at the sight. Eloise has her hair in curlers and is in a thick grey robe and Leo’s sweatpants because she doesn’t own a pair. Her face is free of makeup and it shows how well she has taken care of her skin over the years. She is flipping a couple of pancakes while Leo sips on some apple juice. Just chatting away about the plan for today.

“Okay so after family skate is the party at Pascal and Celeste’s.”

“I won’t be at family skate dear, I have some work to do today.” She puts the last pancake on a plate, making sure that each plate has two, she takes two plates over to the table while Leo carries the other two.

“Ma, you promised me you wouldn’t work while you were here.” He sighs and sets the plates down. He sighs and sits down, not noticing the other two people in the room, he starts poking at his pancakes with his cheek on his hand and elbow on the table. Sulking.

“I know sweetheart but these people are someone who your Daddy tried to sell to for years. They plan to get two mares and then I will be at the party. On time. I promise.” She puts the dishes from cooking in the sink and fills the pancake batter bowl with hot water before grabbing her cup of coffee and walking over to sit next to Leo.

Logan and Finn share a look. They shouldn’t be listening to this.

“Okay but, just please be there towards the beginning of the party. I want to introduce you to my-... the team.” Leo furrows his brow not understanding why he about called the lions his team, when he doesn’t even play hockey.

“I will try my best, Merigold.” She pats his hand and Logan and Finn make their entrance, yawning and stretching as they walk over to the table. “Morning boys.”

“Morning!” Finn smacks a kiss on Leo’s temple as he walks past and Logan does the same, taking their seats and chowing down.

Later that day Eloise was putting her hair in a ponytail as she checked to make sure there were no creases in her uniform. Well, it's not a uniform but what she likes her and Leo to wear when they go to sell.

A black tall-neck turtle neck with long sleeves and tight to the body. Some khaki colored riding pants with tall back socks and brown riding boots. Professional yet comfortable. She was selling to the Malfoy family today, the father is buying these mares for his sons wedding coming up. She is still convinced that they only want their mares because Wyatt is gone, making Knut horses more desirable.

They were in contact with Wyatt for years and were not very nice. She knows she needs to make this sale though. Walking out to the living room to grab her purse she sees Leo moping on the couch by himself. She sighs out of her nose, walking over to him and petting the top of his head.

“I promise I will be there tonight, with moonshine.” She smiles as Leo rolls his eyes.

“I trust you.” Then he stood and gave her good luck and a hug before walking back to his bedroom… not the master bedroom. She takes a deep breath and leaves the apartment.

The rink was cold, Leo was bundled up in his new coat, hat and gloves while rocking his normal jeans and boots. His brand new skates were in hand, not broken in so he was wearing two pairs of tall socks just to help against blisters. Clay actually owned a pair of skates and has been skating since he was younger because he has family in Montana that he would visit for the holidays.

Jerk.

Leo was sitting in Finn's stall just trying to stay warm while he watched Noelle tie one of Clay’s skates and Thomas tie the other. Leo had to admit, he was so happy for Clay, seeing him with that sappy smile makes Leo know that he’s okay. He never smiled like that with Ashley.

Logan walks over to him, completely ready to skate and looking good. He was wearing his favorite well worn sweats and Leo’s new thrifted sweater that was dark green, showing off his eyes. He was wearing his normal cap backwards and Leo has always found it funny that Logan will never wear a hat forwards.

“Ready to get laced up?” Leo nods and holds out a skate to Logan. “You’re very quiet right now, are you that cold?” Leo just narrows his eyes and gives a short nod. Logan shows him how to lace up and once his other skate is on he stands up and nearly falls over.

“This is going to be terrible… is there a dentist nearby? I have a tendency to fall teeth first into the ground.” Licking over his chipped tooth absentmindedly he looks around. There were kids running around in skates and jumping into other players arms. He smiles a bit and rests his elbow on Logan’s head who is wear much more worn down skates so Leo is a fucking giant to him. “You’re the perfect height.”

“Yeah yeah, lets watch you try and walk. Then we can find Finn who I’m guessing is talking to Syd.” Logan helps Leo take a few steps knowing Leo has no balance at all. In skates or not. He has witnessed this name trip over nothing.

“Whose Syd?” Leo starts walking on his own and feels like this isn’t so bad.

“My oldest sister. Aubry is here too. They also play professional hockey. So… don’t get on their bad sides.” Leo stops walking.

“You never mentioned your sisters will be here! I thought I was meeting them when we go to visit your parents in a week! Oh boy… Do they know about you and Finn?” Leo continues walking after Logan grabs his hand and leads him out of the tunnel.

“Yes they know about me and Finn, I told my family first because… well my parents love him and my sisters all had a bet so… yeah. But they don’t know about you because I didn’t know if you were ready for that.” Leo stops him before they completely exit the tunnel and presses him up against the wall, kissing him softly.

“Thank you.” Leo smiles when Logan does and they pull apart to see they are the last out of the tunnel. Walking out Leo stops in front of the ice. “Yo, I don’t know if I have enough ego to let me fall face first onto the ice in front of a whole hockey team yet.”

“What, you aren’t up for the challenge?” Clay skates right up to him, not as seamless as everyone else but still pretty well. He has this challenging look in his eyes and Leo knows exactly what is going to happen. “I knew you weren’t good at everything.” Leo launches himself at LCay who skates out of the way just in time for Leo to miss and barely holds himself up as he glides across the ice.

“Clay! When I get my hands on you, I swear!” Then he falls flat on his ass and gorans laying down, staring at the ceiling annoyed. This sucks.

Clay is having an absolute field day, Laughing his ass off as he skates up to Leo and helps him stand. Patting his back for a moment and letting Leo get his balance he then pushes him over and skates away.

“CLAYTON!” Leo falls basically into a middle split and it distracts Finn from his conversation with Logan and his sisters, hitting Logan’s chest until he looks over at Leo who is still being taunted by Clay and now Reg.

“I didn’t know he could do that.” They share a look and both seem to get ideas around the same time because their faces get all reg and they high five.

“Who is that?” Sydney is readjusting her hat as she looks at Leo. “He’s a cutie, I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that.”

“Agreed. He is really handsome.” Aubry nods in agreement and Logan is suddenly possessive. He glares at them.

“Back off, he’s mine!” He crosses his arms and turns his attention back to Leo who is now talking to Katie who has made herself at home on his leg. Leo looks like he is trying his best not to shake from how cold he is.

“You have Finn, let us have our fun.” Aubrey hits his shoulder and skates over to Leo and Katie. “Need some help?” Katie smiles at her. Leo looks up at her and gives a shy smile because he is embarrassed. Nodding she holds out her hand, Katie grabs his other hand and helps him up. With Katie on one side and Aubry on the other, Leo starts more skating and less falling over.

“Awww they are so cuteeeee.” Sydney smiles at them and hears Logan grumble, looking at them annoyed and Finn is still snorting everytime Leo stumbles. But Finn has this look in his eyes that Sydney has only ever seen him give Logan. She hopes there isn’t anything shady going on between those three.

Eventually, Aubry and Leo stake back over to Finn, Logan and Sydeny who are all still chatting on the ice and sipping their hot chocolate that Celeste brought.

“Can I have a sip?” Logan holds up his cup over his shoulder to Leo’s lips, because Leo is behind him, and holds it as he takes a sip. “Mm, so yummy. I’ve never really had this before. Hot chocolate?” Leo doesn’t really drink warm drinks at all, even the coffee is normally cooled down to where it isn’t hot, sometimes iced.

“You should have Finn make you some, he is really good at it.” Finn kisses Logan's forehead and smiles.

“It’s like the one thing I learned how to make properly. Alex taught me! He is coming to the party later tonight if you want to meet him.”

“I’d love to meet him! Now, I’ve met Aubry. I’m guessing you are Sydney? Logan talks about you guys sometimes but I don’t know a lot.” Leo smiles at her and reaches his hand out to shake hers.

“You have a southern accent…” Aubry and her share a look.

Logan is definitely not keeping him from them.

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 15

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M.

Ao3 | FFN

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

More Chapters

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

*Six Weeks Later*

[Ron]

The flat is small but well-arranged. Bookshelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, maximizing the vertical space that only one of its residents can fully use. The kitchen is sparkling clean, save for two empty red wine-stained glasses in the sink. Usually, the dishes would be washed and stacked away before the clock strikes bedtime, but last night other, more fun activities got in the way.

The apartment's decor is simple — it has to balance the strikingly orange accent wall behind the television. The only other thing commanding attention is the large painting of a cityscape hanging on the wall across from the entry. It's an artistic rendering of a well-known skyline, characterized by neon lights, a replica of the Eiffel Tower, and a series of flashy hotels. Although the portrait might be recognizable to many, it's meaningful to only a few.

As the morning light peeks through the windows, the bedroom's blinds give up on filtering it out. The sun casts a ray across the pillows, illuminating the two sleeping figures entangled together in bed. Gentle and mild, the light is easier to ignore than an intense desert beam, and it takes a few moments for the tall, red-haired man to open his eyes.

When he does, he turns onto his side to bury his face into his pillow. The bed is warm and comfortable — the satin sheets were a worthwhile investment. Same for the pillow, which somehow maintains the perfect combination of cold and cozy. Ever since they bought a new, albeit expensive mattress, his back problems have become a thing of the past.

He smiles at the mountain of fluffy blankets beside him, topped with spirals of bushy brown locks. There's so much goddamn hair. It looks like a plush volcano of cushions is erupting with curly brown hair. He can't decide what he loves more: the explosion of brunette, the bright orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt, the black mens' boxers that have a little too much fabric for a woman, or the person it all belongs to.

Well, technically, the Cannons t-shirt and boxers are his, or at least, were his. But marriage is about sharing.

"Morning, wifey."

Hermione groans and covers her face with a pillow. "Too early."

Ron slips an arm around his wife, encouraging her to turn toward him. She obliges and snuggles up into the crook of his arm, where she fits perfectly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and nuzzles his head into her hair.

It would be easy to stay like this forever, ignoring real-life responsibilities. In a way, their bed has become an escape from reality, an oasis built upon the lessons they learned in Las Vegas. Defined by frequent 'I love you's, reprieves from work, and late-night explorations fueled by a glass of wine and the need to destress, it's the place that keeps them anchored to the magic. Who wouldn't want to stay forever?

But alas, they can't, as they have Maid of Honor and Best Man duties to attend to. Today is Harry and Ginny's wedding, and within a few hours, they need to transition from the carefree vacationers they became in Vegas to the highly organized planners helping to orchestrate the festivities.

Ron groans. Although their friends know they're together — they put on quite a show back in Las Vegas, after all — they haven't revealed the extent of their relationship, and the worst part about being in public together is pretending that Hermione's just his girlfriend.

"We should just tell everyone," murmurs Ron into Hermione's hair.

She chuckles and snuggles closer. "After the wedding. Let's not steal their thunder."

Steal their thunder. To be honest, Ron has frequently fantasized about stealing Harry and Ginny's thunder. A small part of him is jealous of their hen and stag weekend in Las Vegas and their elaborate wedding. Ron wants everyone to celebrate him and Hermione, and as time passes, he grows more desperate for them all to know.

"I want to steal their thunder."

"I know." Hermione gently pushes him over on his back and slides on top of him. The movement is swift and natural, and as always, she fits like a glove.

"Hmmm, hi," he says right before their lips meet. The kiss lingers; Hermione's teeth lightly latch to his bottom lip, driving him wild. Without breaking their kiss, Hermione shifts some of her weight onto her hips. She knows exactly what she's doing, and if Ron doesn't stop this train, they'll be late.

"Er-my-nee," he groans, pulling away. She pouts at him with her wide chocolate brown eyes, and it's all he can do to resist tangling himself back up in her arms. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Do you wish we had more thunder?"

Hermione brushes a tuft of hair from Ron's forehead. "Sometimes. But I still wouldn't change a thing."

Ron smiles as she leans down for another kiss. Her fingers thread into her wild curls, prompting him to flip her over and land on top. He groans when she wraps her legs around his waist.

"You know we don't have time for this," he says between kisses. "We should get rea—"

"Shhhhh." She pulls him into her embrace and tightens her leg lock around his hips. "There's always time."

"Hey!" he teases, then leaning down toward her ear to whisper, "I take offense to that."

Ron doesn't give her time to respond before connecting his mouth to hers for another kiss. He can smell his cologne from the night before on her skin, yet it still tastes like Hermione when his lips travel from her mouth to the nape of her neck. A soft moan escapes her lips and sends him into a tizzy that leaves nothing else to do but get lost in her.

Six weeks in, and he's still convinced he'll never get sick of snogging Hermione Granger.

Plus, she's right — there's always time.

x

Harry and Ginny's wedding is just as elaborate as their weekend of partying in Las Vegas, but of course, classy. The venue is a converted warehouse, which initially horrified Molly, Ron and Ginny's mum, but it's unrecognizable after a few hours of decorating. They tie the knot underneath a trellis of climbing vines and twinkling lights illuminating the exposed brick wall behind them. Cafe lights drape from the ceiling beams, filtering the room's color just enough that everyone appears to glow. Each row of seats is marked by a simple bouquet and a periwinkle ribbon that matches the color of the bridesmaids' dresses, and the aisle appears to have been assaulted by flower petals, courtesy of Victoire, Ron and Ginny's niece, who recently discovered the true strength of her throwing arm.

Ginny has insisted that she and Harry walk down the aisle together as equals. Although originally disgruntled at the pushback on tradition, their father, Arthur, chokes up when he watches the pair approach the altar. Ginny's eyes sparkle with rare tears, and Harry can't keep his gaze off her radiant smile.

They're a couple in love, and there's not a doubt in the room.

Ginny's dress is simple — Hermione had said something about satin, but Ron doesn't remember the details. It's one of those dresses that doesn't dare pull focus from the woman wearing it, not that any dress could. Ron's always resented the Weasleys' fiery red hair and the way it sticks out like a sore thumb, but Ginny makes him think that maybe it isn't so bad after all.

While everyone watches the couple, Ron chances a glance at Hermione across the altar. He can hardly stand seeing her in her periwinkle bridesmaid dress, and he hopes to heaven his gawking isn't too noticeable. When he shifts his eyes in her direction, she turns her head back toward the bride and groom.

She was checking him out, too.

He doesn't have to keep his eyes on her for his imagination to run wild. That periwinkle dress turns white, and suddenly it's Hermione walking down the aisle. Her hair is tucked up into a spiral on top of her head, a few wisps escaping to frame her face.

Since it's his sister's wedding, Ron forces the image out of his mind, but he can't stop a wistful smile from forming on his lips and staying there throughout the ceremony.

When Harry and Ginny arrive at the altar, the music slows to a stop, and the officiant steps out from behind a curtain.

"Well, hello, folks!" says the blonde-haired man in a thick, mumbling American accent.

The wedding guests stare in silence at the man, who's dressed in white from head to toe, a greasy black wig barely covering his blonde locks.

Harry and Ginny burst into laughter, which breaks the seal for everyone else to follow suit.

"Yes! You got an Elvis impersonator!" shouts Fred, Ron and Ginny's brother, from the front row. "Someone check Mum's pulse."

With that, Ron snaps his head toward his mum, whose face has collapsed into her hands. Her body is heaving with what can only be sobs, or…

Laughter. Ron grins when he realizes that his mother's laughing hysterically.

At Molly's outburst, the tension and stuffiness of a formal event dissipate, and the ceremony continues flawlessly, having now been marked by Harry and Ginny's personalities. Elvis speaks to their bond, and even though he doesn't know the couple, he manages to capture how they approach life, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves and marching to their own beat. They've written heartfelt but humorous vows, expertly eliciting laughs and tears from their guests while they read them with shaky hands. They share their first kiss as a married couple to a round of applause and a standing ovation. Emboldened by the support, Harry picks up Ginny and drapes her over his shoulder as he skips back down the aisle to a chorus of cheers and whistles.

The wedding party follows the happy couple back down the aisle, starting with Ron and Hermione. They link arms and lock eyes, sharing a small, knowing smile. Ron wonders if she's also imagining the roles reversed, everyone clapping and celebrating for them as they traipse down the aisle after tying the knot.

What would the pseudo-Elvis have said about them if this were their ceremony, not Harry and Ginny's? Would he have spoken to how they disliked each other when they first met, and the utter disbelief they felt when they woke up next to one another in bed? Maybe he'd have talked about their strong determination to get a divorce and straighten everything out, followed by the looming 'what ifs' that kept knocking. What if they gave it a chance? What if they opened their hearts and it worked out? What if it was meant to be?

Maybe Elvis would have told a white lie at their request, saving their families the heartache of learning that they missed the original wedding, even though Ron and Hermione kind of missed it too.

That would be best wouldn't it? They could hire an Elvis to spin a new love story for their family, so they could keep the real one to themselves—not due to shame, but the simple fact that it's theirs.

Ron can't help but wonder.

Rather than a formal sit-down dinner, the ceremony transitions straight into a party. The delicate set-up of chairs and flowers clears into a dance floor. The doors to the warehouse open to an outdoor deck complete with a buffet and a dessert table, and a crowd forms at the bar.

Tugged away by Ginny, Hermione disappears into the crowd, and Ron becomes absorbed by friends and relatives. He'd rather stick with Hermione, but before he can locate her again, he's trapped in a conversation with long-lost family members. Old cousin Barny, Auntie Muriel and her flavor of the week — a scruffy looking man who introduces himself as Argus, and a neighbor who used to babysit when he was a toddler — he smiles through it all.

"Anyone special in your life, Ron?"

"I noticed the way you were looking at the brunette."

"Is it serious?"

"Should we be marking our calendars for another wedding?"

He deflects the expected questions — the ones that could draw attention away from the happy couple — with suggestive 'maybes' and 'we'll sees' although the truth, or at least a version of the truth, is evident on his face.

Yes, there is someone special. Yes, he was probably gawking at the beautiful brunette. Yes, it's serious enough that they live together.

"You're living together before you're married?" Auntie Muriel chimes in her most dismissive, judgemental tone.

Ron gives her a guilty look, a 'we're already married, you just don't know,' but to her, it's an admission of living together in sin.

"Well, I hope for your sake, she's the one."

"She definitely is," he says, nodding in a way he hopes ends the conversation.

Ron eventually negotiates an escape from small talk and heads to the bar for a slight reprieve. He slides into a seat and accepts a generous glass of champagne from the bartender. One sip reveals just how thirsty he is, and he lets out a satisfied sigh of relief before indulging in the rest of his glass.

"Another?" asks the bartender once he finishes.

"Erm, sure. Thanks."

While the bartender refills his glass, Ron takes a quick scan of the room. He's looking for Hermione, but she's nowhere to be found. His search doesn't last long as a certain someone slides into the barstool next to him and interrupts.

"Thank you for being here," says the dark-haired man beside him. "It means a lot."

"Ugh, not you," groans Ron, but his tone is laden with a touch of sarcasm only his best friend can decipher. "Should I say congratulations?"

"Yes, please," grins Harry. "Even though you've said it a million times."

"Well, you should soak it up because tomorrow, I'm done congratulating you," he says. "So needy."

"Cheers to you too," says Harry, clanking his champagne glass against Ron's.

"I've been meaning to ask you," says Ron, remembering Harry and Ginny's elaborate ceremony. "Why Elvis?"

Harry laughs. "Oh, Ludo? We met him at one of the casinos in Vegas."

"And you just asked him to officiate your wedding?"

"Well, he offered, and we didn't have anyone else," shrugged Harry. "To be honest, we were kind of drunk when we agreed, but Ginny wanted to bring some of Las Vegas into the wedding, so it worked out."

"Well, I liked him. I thought it was brilliant."

"I agree," grinned Harry. "So, will I get to congratulate you anytime soon?"

"Congratulate me for what?"

Harry rolls his eyes, aware that Ron is playing dumb. "Do you think you and Hermione will ever get married?"

"What makes you ask that?" Ron looks over at his best friend, and his expression that's full of excitement. Part of Ron loves that he and Hermione are the only people who know about their marriage. Another part of Ron just wishes he could share it all with his best friend. It doesn't feel right keeping him in the dark.

"You live together and seem pretty happy," continues Harry, oblivious to Ron's internal debate. "I'll admit, at first, I thought you two were moving fast, but you seem well suited for each other."

"After Hermione, you'll be the second person to know," says Ron, grinning at his friend.

"I'll take it!" says Harry. "Can I give you one piece of advice?"

"Sure, mate." Ron can't help but smirk — Harry's been married for barely two hours and is already touting marriage advice. Typical.

"If you know she's the one, don't overthink it. You'll just waste time."

Ron laughs softly. "I don't think that will be an issue for me."

"Good. I'm going to find my wife," says Harry, emphasizing the word like he's trying it on for size. "And you should go dance with your girlfriend. She looks like she could use a hand."

Harry motions across the room to where Hermione and Luna are alone at a cocktail table. There she is. Hermione's stiff body language is a stark contrast to Luna's eccentric gestures, and it appears that Hermione has become an unwilling audience for one of Luna's wild conspiracy theories.

"Happily," mutters Ron as Harry saunters off to find Ginny.

Ron meanders across the room to rescue Hermione from Luna's verbal clutches. Since she doesn't see him approach, he decides to surprise her by sneaking up behind her and looping his arms around her waist.

"Hi, girlfriend," he whispers into her ear.

"Hmmm." She seems to melt into his touch ."Hi, boyfriend."

"Sorry, Luna," says Ron, as he slides a hand down Hermione's arm and interlaces his fingers with hers. "I'm going to steal Hermione away for a dance."

"Of course! Have fun, you two," Luna says before turning around toward the crowd and skipping away, presumably in search of another unsuspecting guest to engage with.

"She's a lot, isn't she?" asks Ron.

"She's not too bad, once you get to know her. She's just talkative, that's all."

Ron tugs Hermione toward the dance floor where a smattering of couples intertwine, swaying to one of the rare slow songs in the D.J.'s repertoire. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he tightens his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"It's a little weird to call you my girlfriend."

"It sounds wrong," she says, her voice muffled by his dress shirt. "I was never your girlfriend. It's probably how people feel when they first start saying 'wife' or 'husband.'"

"I reckon you're right."

Ron reflects on the first time he called Hermione "wifey." It didn't feel weird at all, probably because it was a joke. Eventually, the joke just turned real.

"Hubby suits you better, anyway," says Hermione. She always seems to know what he's thinking, but he doesn't mind one bit.

"I agree, love." Even now, Hermione can still make his cheeks tinge red with a simple statement. "Are you enjoying the wedding?"

He can feel her nodding against his chest. "Yeah," she mumbles. "Although, it was a lot of work. Are you?"

Ron shrugs. "Ours was better, I think."

Hermione laughs. "I'm sure it was. Too bad we can't remember it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron can see Harry and Ginny embracing on the dance floor, surrounded by his grinning family. A spotlight shines on them, and at the sound of clinking glasses, they lock eyes and share a kiss. When they make contact, the bystanders whoop and whistle. "Maybe they should have gotten hitched in Vegas like us. This is a lot of commotion."

"Well, you know Harry and Ginny," says Hermione as she loosens her embrace to glance over at the couple. "They like their parties."

"They do," he says, tugging Hermione back into his arms. "What would you have done if this was your wedding?"

Ron expects Hermione to take some time for her answer, but surprisingly, she has one at the ready. "It would have been smaller. Maybe a live band instead of a D.J. And red velvet cake."

Ron smiles into her hair as she continues.

"I probably wouldn't have had a huge wedding party. Probably just a maid of honor. Intimate rooftop ceremony. I'd write my own vows. I even have photos of my dream dress."

Ron chuckles. "You have it all planned out."

"I never really planned it, I just knew." She's smiling when she pulls away and meets his eye, but her smile fades into a frown. "But seriously, I wouldn't change a thing."

She must have interpreted his pensive look as disappointment. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Let's plan it."

"Plan what?"

"Our rooftop wedding," he says as the color pink creeps up his neck.

"Ron, we're already married." Despite her deadpan tone, there's a twinkle in her eye and a soft smirk hiding behind her lips.

"Then let's get married again."

She narrows her eyes at him, and Ron can almost see the gears turning inside her head. "You don't think that would be a waste of time and money?"

"No. Not at all. Plus, I couldn't stop picturing you walking down the aisle today, and I'd love to see you in your dream dress."

She leans back and stares at him for a few moments, clearly running questions through her mind. When she finally speaks, her eyes are glassy with held-back tears, and a smile lifts her words. "You're serious?"

"Hermione Granger," he states in his most serious tone. "Will you marry me again?"

Their feet stop moving, and she bores her gaze into his. Her answer is swimming in her eyes, but he waits for her to verbalize it. "Of course I will. I'd marry you every day."

Ron barely has time to smile before she's pressing her lips against his. He responds so enthusiastically that it could very well be their first or thousandth kiss, lifting her gently off her feet. They're probably drawing attention to themselves, but Ron doesn't mind. It's like she's the only person in the room.

That seems to happen a lot.

Ron sets her back down and slides his hands down her arms, landing at her unadorned fingers. He rubs a thumb across her left hand, desperately wishing he had brought the ring. He didn't think to bring it to the wedding.

The ring — a modest emerald-cut solitaire in yellow gold, is still safely stashed in his bedside drawer, hidden by a few football magazines. He had a whole plan that didn't include a quiet proposal at someone else's wedding, but sometimes the best things in life are accidents.

"I have a ring, you know."

"You do?" she asks, her eyebrows raised. "You planned this?"

Ron laughs. "Well, sort of. But I wasn't planning on asking you tonight. Didn't want to steal anyone's thunder."

"When were you going to ask?"

He had it all planned out. A surprise candlelight dinner at their flat. A homemade cocktail — his best attempt at Liquid Luck. Slow-dancing in a dimly lit living room, furniture pushed against the wall to make room. Dropping to one knee in the middle of a dance. Strawberries and whipped cream. It would have been perfect.

But this is perfect too.

"I was going to propose six months in. Since that's when you can finally divorce me if you want to—"

"Right. Divorce," she scoffs. "When did you buy the ring?"

Ron averts his gaze when he answers. He hasn't planned on telling her this part. "In Las Vegas."

"That early?" she asks, her tone suspicious.

He nods.

"You knew you wanted to stay with me?"

"Of course, I did. Didn't you know, too?"

She smiles and answers him with another kiss. This time it's slow and loving, taking its time. Their bodies seem to melt together into one.

"That would have been so sweet," she says when they eventually break free.

"We can stick to the original plan if you'd prefer that—"

"No!" Her eyes widen as if she's afraid he'll take it back. "When have we ever followed plans?"

Ron grins. There it is — that spontaneous Hermione that only he gets to see. "And you were worried 'Vegas Hermione' would disappear completely," he says, tucking a hair behind her ear.

"I guess she's here to stay," says Hermione as she nestles her head into the crook of Ron's neck where it fits so perfectly. "I love you so much, Ron."

"I love you more, fiance."

Ron can't help but wince at her new title. 'Fiance' sounds just as odd as 'girlfriend,' and it'll only be true for a small fraction of their lives together — not enough time to get used to it.

"I still like 'wifey' better," she says as though reading his mind.

He does too. "Then I guess we have another wedding to plan."

"I guess we do," she says. "And what about our real wedding? Do you want to tell people?"

"Should we?"

"No," she says before securing her arms around his neck. "That wedding can stay ours."

Ron smiles as his lips meet hers. The desire for everyone to know is still there, but less so. They'll get to celebrate a 'real' wedding together, their guests blissfully ignorant of Ron and Hermione's little secret. It's a perfect plan, really.

Someday they might reveal the truth. They might let it slip in conversation, or accidentally admit it to Harry and Ginny after a few cocktails, or decide to tell their future children.

But until then, their original wedding can just be theirs.

*THE END*

[bestworstcase]

for months i’ve been dwelling on the, like, foundational differences between canon cassandra and bitter snow cassandra and meaning to write a. write-up of those differences and basically:

appearance

- canon cass is a bog standard slender but curvaceous woman with disney sameface and wavy hair and that is not how we roll in this household 

- one day i am going to do a proper design sheet for bitter snow cassandra but in the meantime this gets the gist across. cheekbones, strong jaw, squarish face, bigger more defined nose with a bump, thicker eyebrows, curls. plus, stocky and muscular. i imagine her being like 5′7″ she’s pretty short. 

- it is just emotionally important to me that all of you know bitter snow cassandra is not a skinny waif

- also she is trans

- disney heroine syndrome aside it’s clear that the intention is for canon cass to bear a strong resemblance to gothel, but - there being no biological relationship between bitter snow cass and gothel - i don’t imagine there being a significant similarity in her appearance and calanthe’s. obv they’re both strong-faced women with dark curly hair but that’s the extent of it. 

cutting here for length

parentage/family

- this is the obvious category lol 

- canon cassandra is gothel’s biological daughter, father unknown. she was an only child, and if she had other living biological relatives then we did not get to meet them.

- gothel abandoned her and she was thereafter raised by the captain of the guard, unaware of her heritage.

- bitter snow cassandra is the daughter of sholar and morana hároham, who were farmers of no particular renown in the remote saporian village of socona. she has/had two aunts—sholar’s older sister sirin hároham, and her partner maíne dathámar—who had two children, tathēdora (tath) and cornaīn, both older than cassandra.

- cassandra also has a number of living relatives in artois: her maternal grandparents perun and sibéal ghealach, their other children ronan and acanth, and their families. the ghealach side of the family is estranged from the hároham side and has been for two decades.

- several months after rapunzel’s birth, sholar and morana were implicated as ringleaders in the socona poisonings—an (alleged) terroristic attack on the royal court of corona involving tainted crops, which killed six and sickened dozens more, queen arianna included. they, and seven other farmers from the area, were arrested and swiftly hanged for treason.

- sir peter morgenstern, then a sergeant, was among the guards sent to arrest the hárohams and found cassandra in their home. he brought her back to herzingen with him, put her in an orphanage there, and then adopted her himself three years later once things settled down.

- except there was no treason or conspiracy. the socona “poisonings” were in actuality the result of a magical blight that burned through southern corona from artois to alcorsīa, killing hundreds and leaving its survivors disabled; the farmers of socona were a politically convenient scapegoat, nothing more. 

- maíne died in the first wave of blight-sickness. tath also became ill but survived for another fourteen years before succumbing to a secondary infection. cornaīn was killed almost four years after that by soldiers aboard a coronan prison barge. besides cassandra, sirin is the only surviving member of the hároham family. 

- cassandra is informed of the coronan version of the story when she is ten years old, and learns the truth from sirin shortly before her twenty-third birthday. 

trauma!

...which brings us to this section. 

canon cass

- suffered early childhood neglect and emotional abuse in gothel’s care. witnessed her mother’s abandonment at the age of four. this early trauma was exacerbated by the captain, and she suppressed the memories of her life with gothel. 

- her sense of self worth is tied to service and what she is able to do for other people; this was inculcated in her by gothel through parentification and neglect, and inadvertently reinforced by the captain’s militaristic and emotionally distant approach to parenting. he taught her to “earn her keep,” and seems to have used the credible threat of forced imprisonment in a convent to encourage good behavior. 

- that lack of self worth is further exacerbated by her station as a servant. cassandra’s closest—and perhaps only—friend is the princess she is duty-bound to serve, and this relationship becomes more and more toxic for her as time goes on and rapunzel repeatedly and consistently transgresses her boundaries. she has no viable support network and by the end of s2, she is completely alienated from her friend group and vulnerable to zhan tiri’s abuse. 

- learning about gothel is the final straw that pushes her over the edge, leading her to take the moonstone herself and lash out and rapunzel and corona in a blind rage with encouragement from zhan tiri. 

bitter snow cass

- sholar and morana were loving parents, and as a child cassandra was doted upon by her aunts, cousins [tath being 5 years older, and cornaīn 3], and the tight-knit socona community in general. around 4 she started to become insistent on being a girl, and was both allowed and encouraged to live as one. 

- the blight began approximately one and a half months before cassandra’s fifth birthday. maíne became sick and died very suddenly, and both tath and morana became severely ill almost as fast. the arrests began in tárosh, just weeks before cassandra would turn five. the trauma of all this and her abrupt removal from her home was all intensely traumatic for her, and compounded by her negligible grasp of the coronan language at the time. 

- in the orphanage in herzingen cassandra was mostly neglected and left to her own devices, but punished harshly for speaking saporian or asking for her parents. she began to suppress her memories of socona and her fluency in saporian was badly degraded. she continued to live as a girl but began to grasp that the particulars of her girlhood were not acceptable in herzingen and went to great lengths to avoid being identified as trans.

- shortly after her adoption, she met feldspar willipeg, who took her under his wing and helped her relearn and retain the saporian language as well as reintroducing her—lightly and delicately—to certain aspects of saporian culture. he remained an important anchor to her saporian heritage and friend/mentor throughout her life. 

- being a saporian child growing up in herzingen was traumatic in and of itself. much of her sense of self-worth is wrapped up in the idea of being coronan, and her various failures to measure up in this regard. she is riddled with self-disgust and self-hatred after years of active, subtle and not-so-subtle coercion to reject her saporian heritage. as a child and young adult she feels a tremendous pressure to demonstrate loyalty and service to the kingdom of corona in order to ‘prove’ that she is not like her parents. these internal feelings often manifests as compulsive acts of self-sacrifice or self-sabotage. 

- after she learns the truth of her parent’s innocence, her sense of identity and self-worth come unmoored altogether and she begins to oscillate wildly between defiant pride and vicious self-loathing. she is able to find community and solace with other saporians—moira caine and the crew of the zampermin—but her self-hatred and doubts continue to fester, and she struggles with feeling alienated from both her saporian heritage and her coronan upbringing.

key behavioral differences

- both canon cassandra and bitter snow cassandra are defined by their inability to articulate what they truly want. however, the sheer depth and breadth of the injustices bitter snow cassandra faces do mean that she is able to describe broad long-term goals or desires in a way that canon cassandra is not: she supports saporia’s side in the emergent civil war, and she wants redress for what was done to her family. where canon cassandra agonizes over shapelessly vague notions of “destiny” and “proving herself,” bitter snow cassandra wrestles with more concrete questions—how does she reconcile her friendship with rapunzel and her newfound separatist sympathies? what role will she play in corona’s civil war once the black rock problem is dealt with? who does she want to be? is [insert problem that is absolutely not her fault] secretly her fault?—and this gives her a certain sense of direction even when she is floundering and unable to come up with any answers. 

- bitter snow cassandra seeks to separate herself from rapunzel and embraces the support of other friends long before canon cassandra’s friendship with rapunzel even begins to truly sour. there are several reasons for this; the situation in herzingen becomes untenable for her after she learns the truth and her loyalties change, and the simple fact that she has somewhere else to go enables her to leave. but also, rapunzel’s difficulty accepting her shifted allegiance and saporian heritage in general accelerate the crumbling of their relationship. at the same time, however, because bitter snow cassandra has both left rapunzel’s service and found a solid support network of her own, she is actually much better equipped than canon cassandra to assert her boundaries with rapunzel and attempt to repair their friendship.  

[osmpalliumduo]

Techno, Wilbur and Tommy are lost in Walmart (I do not have Walmart here and I've only been to Walmart once in my life - most memorable thing was seeing the pear banana...)

-

They didn't mean to stray away from their parents, they were watching over Tommy as instructed, and it's not like their dad told them to stop Tommy from running off on his own.

They were supposed to watch Tommy, not anchor him.

They're definitely not using that as an excuse to go to the toys aisle, definitely not. Tommy walked there on his own.

"Ooo, fluffy toy, right Tommy?" Techno whispers, pointing forward. Just a bit closer and he can finally look at the plastic swords.

Tommy ogles at the plushies on the shelves, bright blue eyes glued on them, and he reaches his hands out to make grabby hands at them. He walks closer and Techno inwardly cheers.

Wilbur follows along closely behind, smiling as he takes one of the plastic swords, then points it at Techno, "En guard, was it?"

Techno takes one as well, hitting Wilbur's sword gently, "Do you think we can get mom to buy these for us?"

"What if Tommy took interest in them?"

"That's too much of a stretch," Techno makes a face. Sometimes if they play it cool enough, they can convince their parents to get them things if Tommy's the one that's holding the item.

Their little brother usually never has a single thought going through that cute little head of his, so it's easy to convince the little one to do their bidding. It helps that Tommy absolutely loves WIlbur and is willing to do anything for him.

"That's true. What do you think, Tommy?" Wilbur shrugs, turning to look at their little brother, who's smothering a stuffed cow plush. The older points the sword at him and Tommy reaches out to grab the tip, staring with interest before...

"Hey, hey! Not in your mouth!" Techno pushes the sword away to avoid disaster. He sighs, taking Tommy's little hand, "Let's just go back and try to convince them ourselves. How well did you do on those tests again?"

"Techno, we're literally in the same class. I did awful," Wilbur grins, teeth and all.

"You've got to stop doing that to spite the teacher," Techno grumbles.

"Ah!" Tommy adds, loud as always, as if agreeing with Techno.

"Anything for you, Tommy," Wilbur ruffles the boy's hair.

They go back to where their parents should be, but when they reach there, they find both their father and mother missing. Despite this, the twins attempt to remain calm as they turn and turn to search for their parents, who have got to be nearby because they can't possibly walk off far on their own.

Their slow rise in panic quickly begins to seep into Tommy, who's sensitive and smart enough to know when something's wrong (it's why no one can have an argument in the house, lest they want to listen to a crying boy for the next hour).

He looks up at Wilbur, still gripping Techno's hand tight while the other hand holds the unbought toy close, "Ma...?"

"Don't worry, Tommy, we'll find mum!" Wilbur swoops Tommy up into his arms, watching the telltale signs of a breakdown dawning upon the little boy's face.

"Please, Tommy, we're in public," Techno adds, pleading with his hands pressed together like a prayer. "We'll find mom and dad soon. Be brave, Tommy, be brave!"

Then, almost instantly, the intercom music plays and the voice of a lovely lady begins to speak, "This is a call for three lost children. Techno, Wilbur and Tommy. Your parents are waiting at the first floor counter. Techno has pink shoulder length hair, Wilbur has brown curly ones and Tommy, the youngest, has blonde locks."

The twins exchange glances and begin running towards the information counter.

OMG THAT WAS ADORABLE HDJFHJSGS TINY TOMMY MY BELOVED 🛐💞💞💞

I LOVED THISSSSSSSS

[bindi-the-skunk]

Son of Frankenstein chapter 1

Pretty As A Picture, Mean As Sin

----

Lavender did not know why or when the idea had truly taken root in her head, but once it has entered her conscious mind, her thrice-damned curiosity could not help but want to look inside Frankenstein's shawl, abandoned on the floor of the life-weavers room which no one was interested in picking up, of which she saw a picture hanging out of earlier in the week.

To learn more about her idol, perhaps learning what her beloved Elizabeth looked like in life, if the photo was of her, to see Victoria Frankenstein in her youth! Before the mad science bug had bitten her and not let go.

Said idol was currently sleeping off the medicine that doctor Jekyll almost had to use a funnel on her to get down (and looking very much like he wanted to) and her creation was off someplace doing whatever they did in their spare time when not watching over their mistress or looking unimpressed with existence...and those in it.

Soft snores came from inside the attic space, making Lavender smile, it honestly was sweet, when Victoria slept, the harsh lines in her face eased, she reminded the younger woman of her own dear mother, she needed to write to her more...it was her who introduced the little Lavender to the unknown and she was forever grateful for her mothers influence in her life.

Soft-soled shoes masked her steps as the leviathan obsessed woman made her way inside, smiling a little wider at the sight of Frankenstein on her side, drooling a bit on her pillows and Lavender made her way over to gently pull the blanket further up on the older woman, tucking the fabric in to make sure she would be warm and comfortable before going back to the task she had come in for.

The photo stuck out, just a bit, just enough for Lavender to grab it with the tips of her nails and yank it free from its prison, then she carefully hurried back out, willing herself to not look down at it before she was safely back in her own lab.

She of course would return it!

She just was curious and knew how secretive Frankenstein could be about her personal life, this could help Lavender understand her! Perhaps help them all understand her more, help them all become closer.

Looking down her heart nearly stopped

"Jekyll..."

No...wait...

It wasn't...

The boy in the photo could almost have been his twin! The same curly brown locks and a big nose, eyes a familiar red, the smile was just a bit too silly to belong to the doctor though, the boy looked like his face would crack open if he got his grin any bigger, the crazed love for life look seeming more like something Mr. Hyde would wear.

The boy had his arms wrapped around an obviously younger Frankenstein, who looked both annoyed and amused at his antics, both mear inches from falling off of the bench they sat on, a pretty blond girl laughing at them, safely off to the side, her hair in a mass of curls that seemed to be barely tamed by the ribbons in it, the hem of her dress being the only thing keeping Victoria anchored as she used it to push her foot into to keep from falling fully at the cuddle attack.

Shaking, Lavender turned the photo around

Victoria, Elizabeth, and Henry

What did this mean?

Henry Clerval died! At Creatures hands! There was no possibility he was able to...could he have...

Lavender wracked her brain for answers, Jekyll had mentioned to Robert he had been adopted during one of their chats (no she was not eavesdropping! She was coming to return a beaker!)

Could it be

Perhaps...

She had to show this to Jekyll! He had the right to know if what she thought was true, he had someone who could tell him about his biological family who was in arms reach every day, as God as her witness she would tell him!

---

Errr...perhaps she should have thought out her bold exclamation better...

Standing outside the door to Doctor Jekyll's office, the photo, which now seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, in her grip, Lavender was debating on whether she should politely knock or just barge right in and state straight out what she had discovered.

Why was she hesitating? He will be overjoyed! Lavender could see it now, his face would light up like Leviathan skeletons eyes and perhaps he would rush upstairs to hug his biological father's friend and beg her for stories about his family.

Frankenstein might be a little freaked out at the sudden change of heart, but learning she was staring the son of her best friend in the face would certainly make her open to telling him a tale or two, certainly indeed!

Knock knock

Jekyll bit back a groan and slid a smile onto his face, he was exhausted after cleaning up Hyde's mess and somehow managing to convince a few more lodgers to do the exhibition, he just wanted to sip some more of his wine and perhaps be able to slip into a heavenly nap, perhaps he could even make a full hour of sleep, that would be wonderful, but seems the day had other plans for him.

"Come in," Henry said, glad when his voice did not betray how tired he felt.

Oh, good it was just Ms. Lavender, so nothing in the building had or was going to implode.

Or perhaps something did, she looked nervous, something was clutched in her hands, a letter perhaps? Bad news? Like they needed any more things to go wrong!

Stop it, Henry! She is upset and needs comfort, not a scowl because you had a bad day! And night...moving on.

"What can I do for you, Miss Lavender? Is that a letter from your mother? Expecting a visit?" Henry smiled and was glad his eyes only widened slightly as the paper was shoved under his nose, smelling of familiar odors from outside and unwashed socks, not a scent he would want in a candle that was a sure thing.

"Just look" was all the woman said and the doctor just smiled bemused, taking the photo and looking at it.

Jekyll was not sure if exhaustion or shock caused his next reaction to seeing the contents of the picture.

THUMP

"DOCTOR JEKYLL!?"

Footsteps from behind Lavender sounded as someone else entered the room

"Oh? Is he dead?" came a bored tone

Just in case you have trouble seeing it on Archiveofourown!

[nowoyas]

Floriography 2

first - next

A/N: so y’all probs saw my posts about this, but ‘Walks Through the Garden’ has been renamed to ‘Floriography’ moving forward! we start to see a lil bit more of the magic in this chapter. I’m still ironing out details for the magic system but I’m having fun with it <3 we also see a little bit less of the flower symbolism. unfortunately, there’s only so many flowers in the world and I don’t wanna repeat flowers a bunch. (also not every scene is like... conducive to starting and ending with flower meanings >.<) sorry if that’s a huge draw for this series! I do plan on keeping with the flower symbolism whenever I have a proper opportunity for it, though!

Summary: Izuku has a request of your parents. (prince!arranged fiancé!Izuku Midoriya x princess!Reader)

Warnings: uh none really? some mild shitty gender roles as expected of being a female in a monarchy, mildly shitty dads

Word count: 3300+

~

Sweet peas thank the recipient for time spent together. White violets tell the recipient, "let's take a chance". Yellow water lilies signify a growing indifference, while a wilted flower carries the opposite meaning.

Your fiancé is two people in one body. You've learned this after just one dinner—there is Izuku, the prince, and then there is Izuku, your fiancé. The man you ate dinner with—Izuku, the prince—is distant, speaks in practiced words to fit into the mold he has been expected to grow into. Your fiancé Izuku is kind, almost meek. But he looks at you, sees you.

This much, at least, you can know from a single walk in the palace gardens together.

The morning after your meeting, you prepared a bouquet to be sent to him—sweet peas, white violets, and a single wilted water lily, just alive enough that you can see that it was yellow before it wilted. You'd arranged it by hand, carefully tying an iris around it before having it sent on to Izuku. You learned that same day that the date of your wedding was already set—at the end of the year, you'd be married.

Nine months until you no longer have a fiancé.

Nine months to, hopefully, fall in love with him, so that you can actually enjoy your own wedding.

Your fiancé is someone much more agreeable than you'd hoped, but still you find yourself wishing you were actually in love.

Not that he's making that hard. Every day in the month since your meeting, you've received a single flower and a handwritten note from the prince himself, each reading little things like "ignore the meaning of this one, I just thought it was pretty, so it suited you" and a short little blurb about how his day's gone. You've ended every day with a flower from him, and in the mornings, you send one back with your own short letter and ignore the amused looks your attendants share when they think you're too focused on composing a response or picking a flower to notice.

This morning is different, however. This morning, you magic off your response just after you've been dressed and prepared for the day and receive one immediately.

Sorry for the short notice, but do you think you could request an audience with your parents in my stead? I wish to see you again. My father has requested that you join me on my next trip through the countryside, so that you may learn your new kingdom before our marriage. If it's alright with you, I, too, would like for you to accompany me. Please let me know at your earliest convenience—I have the whole day. :) -Izuku

You smile, leaving your room with the note in hand. At breakfast, you set down your spoon and glance at your parents. "Mother? Father? Izuku has requested an audience with you, whenever it's convenient."

Your parents share knowing glances before your father turns back to you with a smile. "So you've been communicating with the young Prince."

"P-perhaps I have."

"That's good to hear. We'd love for him to visit properly, moreso than merely to have his audience and leave."

Your mother nods. "Invite him over for dinner!"

You blink slowly. "Oh, well, if that's the case, then I'll let him know once I've finished eating."

And you do—before you can be properly sat down for your morning tutoring session, you grab a piece of paper and write him back.

My parents said they'd be more pleased if you came over and spoke with them over dinner tonight. Is that okay?

Smiling to yourself, you doodle a little carnation at the bottom of the note. 

Note: it's not striped.

You receive your response in the form of a beautiful drawing of a better carnation. In the bottom corner, it reads:

This one's not striped, either. I'll see you around sunset. (It's not yellow, either, right? This one's red.) :)

Despite the fact that he's completely blown your little carnation doodle out of the water, you can't help but smile fondly, feeling the tiniest amount of heat rush to your cheeks.

Carnations, when solid in color, indicate acceptance or "yes" to an answered question. Yellow ones invoke disappointment or rejection, while striped carnations are a clear statement of refusal. Red carnations are used to tell the recipient: "my heart aches for you".

~

You shift anxiously. Sunset is soon and you're ready for dinner. You'd be lying if you said you weren't really interested in this proposal of his—to get out of the palace for a while, spend some time talking with your fiancé properly, maybe even away from prying eyes so you can talk to him when he's not posturing and trying to act all princely? Of course you're interested. You'd be a fool not to be!

Eventually, you cast aside nervously pacing around your chambers to get some fresh air in the garden. (You're explicitly not waiting for Izuku's arrival, and no one can prove otherwise.) Naturally, you're accompanied by your guard, who watches from afar, hand on the hilt of his sword in preparation for the slightest thing to go wrong.

To his credit, for a second you think that it does. One moment, you're leaned over the fountain, investigating your reflection in the water and toying with a loose lock of hair, and the next, runes swirl in the air in front of you, green and orange wisps that foretell a teleport about to arrive. The brief scent of peaches and lemongrass is quickly overpowered by the scent of ash and gunpowder that follows, but you have just enough time to recognize the first before it's drowned out.

Eijirou is quick to pull you back and away, sword at the ready in case of intruders, but you grab his arm with a frown, intending to tell him about the familiar scent before he tries to cut someone down, and more importantly, you should move them from the water before there's a teleport mishap.

"Eijirou, wait–"

"It's alright, your highness," he says firmly. "Please step back."

You bite your lip, watching with anxious eyes as the runes finally take proper shape, dropping from their swirls two familiar faces, who land directly into the fountain with a loud splash.

"Eijirou, stand down," you order quickly, willing yourself not to swear as you rush forward. Speaking of swearing, Izuku's knight ('Kacchan', you think he was called?) is doing an awful lot of that as he climbs out of the fountain and extends a hand to help Izuku up.

The minute both men are out of the water, you curtsy with a profuse apology and begin focusing your magic. After rigorous magic tutoring earlier today so you could finish early, you're a little bit close to being tapped out, but you should still have enough left to dry them off. 

You breathe in slowly as you lightly touch their arms. On an exhale, the excess water pulls away from both of their bodies and clothes. You struggle with the hair, but it's better not to pull all the water at once. Carefully, you will it back to the fountain, your runes dutifully carrying it away.

"You have my deepest apologies," you say quickly as you pop up on your toes to reach Izuku's hair and try to work out all the water with your magic. "I hadn't thought that you'd be using me as a teleport point, or I'd have not been standing so close to the fountain! In just a moment longer I'll have you cleaned up, so please hold still."

Izuku is silent as your fingertips brush his scalp, his eyes fluttering shut as you focus on the water. Frowning, you bring another hand up to assist you. His hair's so thick, pulling the water from it is nothing short of a struggle. Meanwhile, Eijirou focuses on helping the other knight dry his own hair.

With the water finally obeying you and pulling away from his curly locks, you have the moment to realize just how soft Izuku's hair is. It looks more like a mop than anything from a distance, but now, you feel almost like you're petting a kitten, a sensation only furthered by the fact that he's literally pressing his head into your hand. You honestly don't doubt that he'd be purring if he could.

Once you're properly done drying him off with a little magic, you remove one hand from his head to stifle your giggle. The other lingers in his hair just a moment. "Sorry, you have really soft hair. Did I miss any spots?"

You're careful to look him over for any wet spots on his clothes. His hair is back to its usual fluffy mess, causing you to wonder how much time his attendants must spend trying to tame it on a daily basis. When you're both satisfied that he's dry, you quickly pull the rest of the water out of his knight's hair and return all of it to the fountain.

"I really do feel the need to apologize again for that. I thought to pull your runes away from the water, but..."

Izuku shakes his head with a smile. "No, really, it's all right! I should have told you ahead of time that we'd be using you as the anchor point for our teleport. We must have startled you."

"Perhaps a bit, but once I realized it was you I was reassured!" You shoot him your best grin. "Are you two ready? I can go inquire as to when the dinner will be ready before announcing your arrival, if you'd like."

"Ah, yes, please," Izuku stammers. "I wouldn't want to rush your chefs, however—"

Izuku's cut off by the sudden swirl of familiar teleport runes in front of you. The smell hits your nose before you recognize the inky blue, and you crinkle your nose in distaste at the smell of seaweed. Your father's runes. What materializes isn't him, but a simple note, not even written in his own handwriting: Whenever Prince Izuku arrives, dinner is ready and waiting.

You smile. "Ah! Perfect!" You carefully stick out your tongue, pulling forth just enough magic to pull off your favorite new trick: teleporting just enough ink to a page to write without a pen. Izuku just arrived. I'll escort him to the dining hall.

You send back the note with a wave of your hand. "My father says that dinner is already prepared for whenever you arrive, my prince." You say the last two words in a playful tone, grinning at him mischievously and offering one arm to him. "If it pleases his highness, I'd be honored to escort you to dinner."

He chuckles, looping his arm through yours. "By all means, lead the way, m-my dear."

You giggle as you lead him out of the gardens. "You were so close to a smooth delivery there."

Izuku rubs the back of his neck with his opposite hand, blushing lightly. "S-sorry. I'll do better next time."

"I think it's endearing, actually," you comment, hiding a laugh behind your hand when he lets out a choked noise in response. "Only change if you want to, my prince."

"H-hey! Who's courting who, here?" he whines desperately, hiding his face. You toss your head back in a laugh. "Oh, but that actually reminds me!"

Izuku stops suddenly, turning to you and producing a single sprig of forsythia. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, and quickly pins it in place with the yellow blooms. "There. They suit you, Princess."

Your cheeks tinge pink at the sudden gift, worsened by the way he smiles and laughs lightly at your expression. "There, now I'm not the only one blushing."

With that, he pats your cheek, turns, and heads toward the door, opening it for you with sparkling eyes. 

"Wh—hey! I'm supposed to be the one escorting you, you little—" With an indignant squawk, you scamper after your fiancé, cheeks still burning red.

Forsythia symbolizes anticipation.

~

"So, Prince Izuku," your mother says, carefully setting down her soup spoon to peer across the table at your fiancé. "My daughter tells us that you wished to speak to us?"

Izuku's calm and collected as he sets down his own spoon and swallows his food. When he's ready, he opens his mouth and speaks in even, princely tones that don't suit the Izuku you've come to know through his letters. You suppose this means that he's in 'Prince mode'. "Yes, that's correct, your majesty."

Your mother wrinkles her nose in distaste, waving her hand in front of her face as if she's smelled something unpleasant. "Oh, please, dear. If you're marrying my daughter, I'd rather you treat me like family."

"Oh, of course, ma'am. I didn't intend to offend you. I was surprised, actually, that you allow [name]—I mean the princess to refer to you so directly. My father insists on being addressed by his title at all times, no matter who is speaking to him, so I assumed you'd be the same..."

Your mother laughs. "No, nothing so strict. There are plenty of ways to command respect without the sort of iron fist King Hisashi rules with, if you don't mind my saying."

"Mother," you hiss. "Please refrain from insulting Izuku's father in front of him."

"Oh, no, it's all right, [name]," Izuku says. "I know my father isn't exactly... popular when it comes to others' opinions of him. It's refreshing to be far enough from his influence that I'm actually made aware of it, however."

Your father speaks, the first time since the two of you entered the room to eat. "You never answered the question, Prince."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at how overtly protective he's acting. Moons, he's the one who arranged your engagement to Izuku!

Izuku swallows, and from your proximity, you can see him reigning in his stutter to answer. "...yes. My apologies. I wanted to ask if you'd grant your permission to allow your daughter to accompany me on my seasonal trip through my father's kingdom. My father has historically insisted on these trips to encourage my growth into my role as heir to the kingdom and, hopefully, to build a sensible rapport with my people before I take the throne myself. Since Her Highness and I are to be wedded this year, my father has agreed that it would be ideal for her to join me, so that we might grow closer and our people might learn her face before the wedding occurs. And I, personally, would love to have her company on this excursion."

Your father eyes you with a raised eyebrow. "I assume your betrothed spoke with you about this ahead of time, [name]?"

You nod. "Yes, father. We spoke about it briefly through letters, though I haven't yet requested the full details."

"How many guards typically accompany you on these excursions, Prince?" your mother asks, a hint of interest in her voice.

"It varies depending both on time of year and the prevailing public opinion, but there's always at least four. I'm fairly proficient in combat, and the guards chosen to accompany are all those whom I trust and have been chosen through several combat trials to determine their ability to provide adequate protections. We try to keep the detail low, to prevent from straining resources for travel and not draw too much attention during my travels. If necessary, I'm sure my father would be happy to increase the numbers to ensure your daughter's safety."

"My daughter doesn't know her way around a sword," your father says darkly. (Patently false, but he doesn't need to know about your habit of watching the guards during their training when you have the time, or the fact that Eijirou is more than happy to show you your way around a blade when he accompanies you about the castle.) "If I allow this little excursion, it will be your head if she doesn't return to me unharmed."

"Father, please don't threaten my fiancé," you groan. "I am capable enough with both offensive and defensive magic to defend myself—"

"[name]," he says sharply, not sparing you a glance. "The men are speaking."

Wounded, you snap your mouth shut and return to your food in silence, keeping a trained ear on their conversation and an eye on Izuku, who seems to have gone stock-still at how you've just been addressed.

"Of course, your Majesty," Izuku says, voice strained. "I would never dream of allowing harm to come to her."

A tense silence falls over the room, until finally, it's broken. "The excursion would be followed by a week's stay in the royal palace, if your Majesties and her Highness are all in accordance. I proposed this to my father as a way to allow her Highness to meet with my family and acclimatize to the palace, rather than merely the surrounding kingdom." Izuku's knuckles are white as he grips his spoon.

"I'd prefer to speak with you about this matter in private, Prince," your father says through gritted teeth. You wither under the atmosphere, eyes glued carefully to Izuku as he barely conceals a glare in response.

You're suddenly regretting all the anticipation you'd had for this meal.

~

"Meet me in the palace gardens before you leave," you'd whispered in Izuku's ear as he left the room at the end of dinner. He nodded then, before following your father to his study with Kacchan in tow.

Your father is an imposing man when he wants to be. Izuku has to remind himself to stand firm, to not give off a moment's glimpse of weakness to the man standing across the room from him.

"If I'm being honest, I'd hoped that the son of the infamous King Hisashi would have been a bit more like his father," the man says, hands folded behind his back. He lets out a sigh, as if it's somehow inconvenient for him that Izuku doesn't demand fear from others or threaten another's life or livelihood at the smallest slight.

Yeah, I get that a lot, Izuku wants to say. Instead, he simply nods. "I see."

"It is not unappealing, per se, for my daughter to marry someone like you," he continues, "but it would be ideal if you could properly set her into her role. She plays her part well, but my daughter is always pushing. She treads the line of her limits, as you saw when she spoke out of turn earlier."

"I'd have to disagree, your Majesty. I don't think [name] was out of line at all," Izuku says firmly, surprising even himself. "I don't know enough about her skills in combat well enough to properly defend them, but if she felt the need to stand up for herself, then I'm glad she acted upon it. What's the point in living if she's to be a quiet little doll who ‘stays in line’?"

Your father doesn't turn his head to look at Izuku, sighing yet again. "I don't think we'll ever see eye-to-eye on this matter. Perhaps it's best if we simply–"

"Did you want to speak further about the excursion?" Izuku interrupts coldly. "I'd be happy to give more details if you have any concerns, but my father would be upset if I returned without a proper decision. He's a busy man, as I'm certain you know, and preparations can't effectively be made if we don't know how many will be attending."

"...color me impressed, Prince Izuku," your father says. "I wasn't aware you had a spine."

"I find it more sound to not play all my cards at once, your Majesty."

"[name] may accompany you for your little trip. Her personal knight—I'm sure you're acquainted—will accompany her. Let me be clear that I was serious about your head should she not return."

"I was serious when I said that I wouldn't dream of letting her come to harm." Izuku's gaze is challenging as he meets the man's eyes.

Your father finally looks Izuku in the eye, one eyebrow raised. "See to it that you don't, your highness."

Taglist: @tooloudarts​ @zylith-imagines-and-fics​

[aliendes]

Natural Borns - Chapter Three

Banner made by @thebannershop​ 

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: mentions of panic and anxiety, blood, and overall sadness in this chapter. This series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it? 

Word count: 5.5k~ 

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on this series! If you want to be added to the tag list, please make sure you’re following me and send me an ask! This chapter is a little longer than normal because it contains a lot of backstory. We will be meeting (almost) all of the boys in this chapter and I’m super excited for the next couple chapters. As always, I’m happy to answer questions/asks and I love hearing from you. Reblog and help other’s see the series! xoxo - Des

Updated: 8/3/2020

Squinting, you cocked your head to the side as you caught sight of something, or someone, in your driveway. There, in front of your house, was your father.

And Hyunwoo. 

You quickly maneuvered your body so you were completely hidden from sight behind the large oak tree. Your back was pushed against the rough bark, palms flat against the wood. Instead of catching your breath like you intended, your heart rate was soaring, you felt like you couldn’t breath. You screwed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to process everything that was happening.

Namjoon and Seokjin. They just warned you about Hyunwoo, the man now standing in your driveway with your father. Warned you that he could potentially be there to kidnap you - or worse - buy you from your parents. Your initial thoughts drove that possibility from your mind. Your parents wouldn’t do that. You know that. They’ve been protecting you your entire life. They’ve kept you at home, kept you away from anywhere that you could be scouted. But - eyes still screwed shut, you furrow your brow - why? Why have they kept you sheltered? You shook your head violently trying to erase these thoughts from your brain. You took a deep breath and opened your eyes. You slowly turned around to face the tree you were hiding behind, and carefully peeked around it, searching for the two men again. 

Your father and Hyunwoo were still standing on your front porch. You were pretty far away from them so you really couldn’t make out facial expressions. You watched them for a moment, trying to read body language, but it was no use. You were too far. As you watched the pair you started to calm down a bit. Maybe Hyunwoo was just coming back to try and talk your father - or you - into selling your DNA. No big deal. Your dad would put a stop - you squint your eyes, trying to get a better look. It looked like they were - shaking hands? After your father shook hands with him, Hyunwoo turned and walked directly to his car. As he opened the door he gave one last wave in your father’s direction and bent to get into the driver’s seat. Before he was fully seated, his eyes snapped to you, as if he had known you were standing there all along.

You gasped loudly and it felt like all the air was violently sucked out of your lungs. You locked eyes with the man. Instead of outing you to your father who was now making his way back into your house, he kept his eyes on your frozen form and continued to sit down. He stared for only a moment before closing his door. A silent message that you heard loud and clear. You weren’t breathing, couldn’t move at all. Your feet felt like anchors weighing you down, keeping you rooted to the ground. You watched as the straight faced, calm Hyunwoo started his car and drove away from your farm. 

Your body reacts before your mind could and suddenly you’re running through the forest, back in the direction of the stream. Your thoughts were reeling. You were scared, terrified, even. You were sprinting now, full speed, not caring about the soles of your bare feet. Your eyes were clouded with hot tears spilling down your cheeks. You were running so fast you could hear the whir of wind trailing off your form, leaves crackling and crunching on the forest floor, and the sound of your quick, labored breathing. You have no idea where you’re going, just letting your feet take you far away from your home. Something inside you was telling you, no, screaming at you, to get away from whatever deal you just witnessed between your father and Hyunwoo. 

Hyunwoo.

He knows you’re out here. He’s probably looking for you right now, or will be soon. Your brain was finally catching up with your body as you started to slow down to a jog. Quickly, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to dial the only number you felt like you could in this moment. Seokjin.

You needed to speak to him, you felt like he would have answers for you, he could tell you what to do. Before you could open your contacts you were falling through the air, phone flying from your grasp, before you slammed face first into the solid ground, cushioned only by dead leaves and shrubbery. 

It took you a moment to realize that you must have tripped. Your face was now laying against something wet. You winced as you slowly picked your upper body up off the forest floor with the palms of your already damaged hands. Eyes scrunched in pain, you let your body fall back down when your muscles protested the movement. You turned your head to the side and huffed out a breath, blowing the hair that had fallen around your face. You picked your head up slightly to look to where your phone had fallen, seeing it was only a few feet in front of you, luckily not broken.

You reached out your arm to try and grab for it when you heard footsteps. Immediately your body stiffened and you twisted yourself from your prone position to try and see who was approaching. Now laying on your back, propped up on your elbows, you groaned in pain at your quick movements, but were quickly met with two sets of worried eyes.

“YN!” A familiar voice shouted. How did they find me? You weren’t sure how far you ran, but it couldn’t have been that far. How long have you been gone? 

At the realization that the newcomers were safe, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back onto the cool ground, letting out a relieved, albeit painful, sigh.

“YN, are you ok!?” Seokjin’s frantic voice was now in your ear as you heard his knees hit the ground next to your face. Slowly, you opened one eye, taking in Jin’s panicked expression. His dark hair was a frazzled mess, like he had been running his hands through it.

You tried rolling onto your side, whining in pain in the process, but Seokjin put his hand on your shoulder, stopping you short. Your breathing was starting to even out, but as the adrenaline in your body wore off, the pain was hitting you full force. As you opened both eyes, you saw both of Jin’s hands hovering over your body like he was afraid to touch you and damage you further. A few feet behind him, also on his knees, you saw Namjoon. As soon as you actually acknowledged their presence, Seokjin took his backpack off his shoulders and immediately started tending to your wounds. He noticed how bloody your feet were, and decided to work on them first. It took you a moment to relax to his touch, still on edge from the recent events. As you took in your surroundings, you now noticed there was a third person, standing a few feet behind Namjoon. You startled a bit upon meeting the new man’s eyes. The stranger jumped a bit at the eye contact, much to your surprise. 

Namjoon’s brow was furrowed in worry, but when he noticed you jump, he followed your gaze to the other man. The newcomer was tall, but not as tall as Namjoon, and looked to be closer to your age than Namjoon or Seokjin, maybe even younger than you. He had dark, curly hair that was falling into his eyes. Much like the other two, he was extremely handsome with a sharp jawline and round, doe like eyes. He looked a little embarrassed by your intense stare and diverted his eyes to the ground in front of him.

“Ah - YN, this is Jungkook,” Namjoon started, gesturing his hands towards the shy boy, “he’s the maknae of our group.” 

You slowly nodded your head before letting your eyes slip closed again. Seokjin was disinfecting and bandaging the wounds on your feet and legs and though he was gentle, you were still in a great deal of pain. Your chest felt heavy, a foreign pressure near your ribs. It was becoming a little hard to breathe in the position you were in. 

“I’m sorry,” Jin apologized as you winced, “what the hell happened to you YN? I think you may have a couple bruised ribs.” He seemed to notice your pained expression and helped turn you on your undamaged side. 

Eyes still closed, you let out a huff. “I ran back home after you left. When I got to the orchard, I saw Hyunwoo.”

You heard someone inhale a sharp breath, but who it was, was a mystery to you. You opened your eyes, staring directly into Seokjin’s as you finished, “He was talking to my dad. They were shaking hands,” you could feel yourself starting to fall into a panic as you remembered the scene, “when he left, he saw me. It- it was like he- he knew I was standing, watching them the whole time. I don’t think my dad saw me, but as soon as Hyunwoo got in his car, I took off. I- I’m scared,” you whined out the last words, feeling overwhelmed by the events of today. You felt Seokjin’s thumb rubbing a soothing circle on the ankle he was currently wrapping as you finished your story. 

“You made the right choice to run, YN,” Jin mumbled as he looked up at your face, “Who knows what was going on there, or if he’s looking for you. We shouldn’t stay here long, just in case,” he murmured the last part, almost as if speaking to himself. 

“How far are we from the farm?” You asked, curious how far you ran. 

“About a mile, a little ways from the stream,” he answered easily. 

Namjoon got up from his kneeling position and walked over to your side, Jungkook following close behind like a puppy. You absently thought how adorable he was as you watched him sit on the forest floor behind Seokjin. He reached out to Jin and grabbed onto the back of his shirt, almost like it was a comfort to be near him. You could understand why he felt that way, Seokjin had this comforting aura about him. You felt safe with him, even though you barely knew each other. 

Namjoon was now on your opposite side as Jin moved up your body to take a look at the scrapes on the side of your face. “I agree with Jin. We should get going as soon as you’re able to get up. We aren’t too far away from the stream we were at earlier. Probably wouldn’t be too hard to track us here.” Namjoon reached out a hand, like he was going to touch your face, or hair, but thought better of it and pulled away. You thought the action was a little strange, but decided not to dwell on it. 

“What are you guys doing out here anyways?” You asked, remembering they had left not too long ago. “How did you find me?”

Namjoon’s face aggressively blushed as he looked over at Seokjin who looked unbothered. “We wanted to be near you in case something happened,” he managed without looking at you, “in case you called.”

You let out a dry laugh, the first the boys had heard from you. “I was actually taking my phone out to call Seokjin when I fell.”

Namjoon gave you a tight lipped smile, “I was about to ask.” 

Seokjin was wiping a cotton ball at your bloodied face now, “It’s going to be getting dark soon. We should get going, do you think you can stand?” He asked you, assessing your body one more time and nodding quickly to himself once he determined you were ok. 

You nodded a bit, sitting up on your elbows. You winced as you went to tidy your hair that was surely a rat’s nest. “Yeah, just - just give me a minute.” You mustered what energy you had left and pushed yourself onto your feet. 

“I left my shoes back at the orchard,” you said as you stood up to your full height, “kind of dumb me.” You watched as Seokjin repacked his bag and stood up, the younger man standing up almost completely in sync, his hand still gripped on Jin’s shirt. The older man seemed  completely unbothered by the other’s action, like it was completely normal. Namjoon watched you as you curiously eyed Jungkook.

“We went back to the other’s before heading towards your farm. Kookie wanted to come with.” He said with a fond smile as he mentioned the younger boy. 

Kookie. How cute. “Where are the others?” You asked as Namjoon stood up and walked towards his brothers. 

Jin slung his pack over his broad shoulders as he answered you, “We’re staying in an abandoned warehouse a few miles from here.” You knew exactly the one he was talking about. It was a big grey industrial building at the top of a quarry. The quarry was usually partially filled with water, and was no longer used. The warehouse used to house the stone that was mined there, but that was decades ago. 

“Yeah - I know the one.” Almost all of the high school parties Mina tried to get you to attend were held at that warehouse. 

Seokjin nodded at Namjoon, and the three men started to walk in the direction of the warehouse. You started to follow after them, but as soon as you took a step you let out a pained whimper, causing Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jungkook to whip their heads in your direction. 

“Hey - hey, wait,” Seokjin started, talking quick steps towards you, arms outstretched, “does it hurt to put pressure on it?”

You nodded, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall by biting hard into your lower lip. Jin looked over his shoulder at Jungkook who was slowly approaching you both. “Do you think you can carry her, Kook?”

The boy in question was now standing almost directly behind Jin with a hesitant look on his face. You looked up at him and saw the timidness in his expression, “It’s ok, really. I can do it.” You winced as you tried to take another step. 

“YN,” Jin said firmly. You haven’t heard him be this serious before, “Please don’t.”

You looked down to the ground and bit your lip again, nodding. Upon seeing your pain, Jungkook moved in front of Seokjin and turned his back to you. It took you a moment to realize he was kneeling down for you to jump on his back. You hesitated, you didn’t know this man, and he hasn’t spoken a single word since arriving here. Namjoon seemed to notice the resistance in your body language as he walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok, YN. Kookie is really strong,” he explained, masking your true reasons for hesitating with worry for the young man, “you’ll both be fine.” He gave you a reassuring smile before walking next to Seokjin.

You slowly placed both of your hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and hobbled over until you could lean your front onto his back. It was an awkward position, made even more awkward by the fact you didn’t know the person who the back belonged to. As Jungkook stood up, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on for dear life. “I wont drop you, Noona.” You startled at the first words spoken by the boy, blinking owlishly. You could hear Seokjin’s giggle from behind you both. You decided to trust Jungkook and loosened your grip a bit. 

“Ready?” Namjoon asked the group. After receiving nods and noises of affirmation, the four of you set off in the direction of the quarry. 

The walk to the quarry took about an hour, with you all moving a little slower than normal. Namjoon wasn’t lying when he said Jungkook was strong. He has had you on his back the entire walk, only setting you down once to take a drink from Seokjin’s water bottle. You were more than a little impressed by the young man’s stamina.

You realized you were getting close to the quarry when you started to see old dilapidated fencing and signage that contained warnings about cliffs and falling rock. As you reached the edge of the forest, you saw a clearing of trees that had one path leading down into the quarry that had a broken fence attempting to block it, and another path leading up towards the abandoned warehouse. You haven’t seen the warehouse since you were in highschool, having not the greatest memories here, you tried to stay away. 

As you approached the large building, you weren’t able to outwardly tell anyone was living in it. The outside was all cement with large metal and glass windows that surrounded the upper perimeter of the structure. The roof was a large pyramid shape that used to hold glass, but was now a shell of metal and wire, with some jagged pieces of leftover glass hanging on. You knew from previous experiences that there was no electricity in the building, and when it got dark, it was incredibly dark out here, no surrounding city lights to illuminate the place. You weren’t fond of the dark and the sun would be setting soon, giving you an uneasy feeling. 

Jungkook was beginning to slow down a bit, tiring from walking uphill to the warehouse. The path to get to the building was fairly long and winding. Your arms were crossed haphazardly across Jungkook’s chest to anchor you to his back and when you felt his breathing starting to pick up, you absentmindedly started rubbing one of your hands slowly up and down his pectoral. He straightened up at your movements and you immediately stopped, fearing you had made him uncomfortable. Your cheeks heated and you were glad he couldn’t see your face at the moment. You were sure because of his timid nature, he wasn’t faring much better. 

“You said you knew this place, have you been here before?” Namjoon asked curiously, ever the observant one. 

You nodded, “In highschool. Haven’t been here in years, though.” You explained. You turned your head to the right to see Namjoon and Seokjin walking together… holding hands? You thought briefly about how attached Jungkook had been to Seokjin earlier, holding onto him and following him around. Maybe it was a comfort thing? You filed away the thought for a later time. They weren’t looking at you, but Namjoon nodded in acknowledgement to what you said. 

“We’ve only been staying here for a few weeks,” Namjoon started to elaborate, “there are two more of our group inside. Don’t worry, they’re nice,” he explained quickly upon seeing apprehension written all over your face, “we’ve all known each other a long time, most of us lived together at Big Hit.” Namjoon and Seokjin both grimaced at the memory.

Seokjin took over for the other, “Yoongi and Hoseok are,” he hesitated, “different.” He spoke with careful words, “Yoongi is a little abrasive, just be ready for that. He says what he wants and doesn’t really hold back. He doesn’t trust easily, if at all, so I just want to prepare you for that,” your heart sank a little, feeling empathetic towards the man you haven’t even met, but continued listening carefully to Jin’s words, “Hoseok is a little mysterious. He’s really outgoing and very friendly,” Seokjin giggled, “he’s a lot like a golden retriever, but like Yoongi, he doesn’t trust easily. He’s had a really rough time since we left the facility,” Seokjin’s expression changed into something darker, something you haven’t seen on the man before.

You hurt for these men. They’ve been through so much. You can’t imagine the things they’ve seen or were put through, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. One thing you did know, though, was that you felt inclined to do something, to help, in any way that you could, seeing as they have been nothing but helpful toward you. You weren’t sure what you could even do to help them, having not been through the things they have. You really didn’t know much about Big Hit, or about designer baby companies in general. Your parents have hidden you away from the outside world, keeping you sheltered from what goes on in places like those. You’re starting to wonder if maybe that had done more harm than good. 

“Thank you,” you started, gaining the attention of all three men with you, “for being so kind to me. I wasn’t the most welcoming when we met, but I - I just want you to know I’m thankful for you guys, even if we don’t really know each other. Even if I’m not totally sure what’s going on, or what’s going to happen.” You laid your head on Jungkook’s shoulder as you finished speaking, feeling exhausted. You didn’t want to think about how tired poor Jungkook was feeling. 

Namjoon nodded and gave you a small smile before saying, “We couldn’t let what happened to us, happen to anyone else. If we can put a stop to DNA poaching, we will.” His tone conveyed so much conviction, you couldn’t help but believe him, when suddenly you remember something he said earlier.

“Didn’t you say that some of your… friends were still at Big Hit?” You weren’t sure what to call them. Family? They definitely seemed closer than just friends. You felt Jungkook stiffen beneath you and you were momentarily worried you had upset him, before Seokjin started to explain.

“Yes, two others,” Jin spoke quietly. Something dark flashed across his eyes as he continued, “We call them the twins, Jimin and Taehyung. They’re really close.” Namjoon smiled softly after the mention of his two friends, but continued staring at the ground as you all walked together. “They’re tough. At least, Jimin is, and Taehyung will be ok if he stays with Jimin. We’re doing everything we can to get them out. Yoongi spends all his time trying to figure out a way to hack into Big Hit’s system and break them out of there,” Seokjin let out a long sigh before turning to look at you, “They belong with us. We all belong together.”

Your chest hurt at Seokjin’s words. You could tell how much the six other men meant to him, how much they all meant to one another. The look Jin and Namjoon were currently giving each other proved as much. Namjoon slowly rubbed his free hand up and down Jin’s arm in a comforting manner. You internally smiled at the action. You felt a slight ease at the knowledge that they had each other through everything they had been through, and everything they were going through now. Your heart broke at the thought of the twins still being stuck at Big Hit. 

“We’re here,” Namjoon said softly, “I’m going to let the others know we have company,” he said to Jungkook and Jin, who both nodded in affirmation, before he walked through a large metal door on the side of the building. The way Namjoon spoke made you worry. What if the others didn’t like you? What if they wanted you to leave? Jin did tell you that they weren’t very trusting, understandably so. But would that mean they wouldn’t trust you either?

As you and the two men approached the side of the warehouse, Jungkook slowly knelt down to let you off his back, which you happily obliged. You didn’t mind being carried, but you felt incredibly bad for the young man and his poor muscles. As you slid onto the ground, you used Jungkook’s shoulders for support. When both your feet were on solid ground, you eased up to your full height, ignoring the stinging pain in the soles of your feet. You hobbled over to the side of the building and briefly took in your haggard appearance. Both feet and hands were wrapped in bandages, your ankles were bloodied, and your left forearm was sporting a rather nasty purple bruise. You could only imagine what your face looked like. 

While you were lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Jungkook and Seokjin standing off to the side whispering to each other, not so discreetly staring at you. Jungkook was curious by nature, so of course he was incredibly curious about you. A beautiful natural born, a woman at that. He thought you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen, not that he had seen much outside his six best friends and the labs he’s lived at, but still. You were new and interesting to him. He desperately wanted to get to know you more, but he was nervous.

The loud bang of the metal door Namjoon had previously entered brought you out of your self conscious reverie, startling both you and Jungkook, causing you both to jump. 

“YN,” Namjoon seemed a little out of breath, worrying you immediately, “do you have a phone?”

Your eyes widened for a moment before you nodded quickly. You pulled it out of your pocket to see you had twenty two notifications from your group chat, a missed call from Mina, some missed texts from your mom, and seven missed calls from your dad. You unlocked your phone and opened the text messages from your mom first. 

From Mom [7:51 pm]: Where are you??

From Mom [7:52 pm]: We’re worried about you Pearl, please come home

From Mom [7:55 pm]: YN whatever happened we can explain, please just come home sweetie.

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you looked up at Namjoon. Your mom knew something. Whatever happened, she said. Her or your father must have known you saw him and Hyunwoo earlier. Why would she assume something happened if you never said anything? “I think they know,” you trailed off, noticing a small, blonde man bursting through the metal door and appearing behind Namjoon.

“Give it to me,” the shorter man demanded in a tone that made you flinch, holding his hand out to you.

Seokjin sighed as he rubbed his hand down his face. He walked over to the blonde and put his hand on his shoulder. “Ease up Yoongi. Remember how scared you were when we first found you?” Jin was speaking in a soft tone, but you could tell he was giving an order. Yoongi scoffed in your direction and then turned in Jin’s grasp, looking up at the much taller man.

“Fuck off, Jin. You’re going to trust some girl you just met? They probably tracked her all the way here,” his eyes were narrowed into tiny slits as he glared at Seokjin. Yoongi pushed past Jin, purposely bumping into his shoulder on the way back through the door. You could hear Namjoon sigh from next to you. Jin watched on sadly as Yoongi stormed off before turning around to take in your somewhat pathetic form. You were battered and bruised, still a little bloody, clothes dirty, the bottom of your pants ripped and wet from falling. You stood with your shoulders hunched, eyes trained on the ground in front of you, one hand down at your side and the other clasping your hurt ribcage, looking as small as you could make yourself. Jin’s heart broke at the sight of you, and he could tell Namjoon was feeling the same by the quick glance they shared. Namjoon walked over to you and placed his large hand on your shoulder, causing you to peer up at him through your long lashes. He couldn’t help but think you must be the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, even in the state you were in currently.

“I’m sorry about him, like Jin said, he can come off a little… strong,” Namjoon glanced behind him at Jin, who nodded in agreement, “He only wants what’s best for the rest of us, and he is right, even though he may not have gone about it the right way. They can track your phone, and it would be smart to get rid of it, or at least let Yoongi hack it.”

You instantly understood why Yoongi had reacted to you in the way that he had, and you definitely didn’t hold it against him. You nodded your head a little too quickly at Namjoon, “No, I understand. Can- can I just text my friends? They’re probably worried about me, and I don’t know when I’ll get to see them next.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened at the small way you asked him for permission. He didn’t want you to feel like a prisoner in any way. You were a guest, and hopefully with time, a part of their little family. “Of course, YN.”

You gave him a small smile in thanks before unlocking your phone and opening your group chat. You ignored the massive onslaught of text messages and opted for sending something short and sweet so they knew you were ok. You just hoped they’d understand not to come looking for you. You knew how Mina could get when she was worried. 

From you [8:23 pm]: hey guys, sorry I can’t explain right now, but i’m not going to be home for a while. I’m safe, please don’t worry. I will get in contact with you both asap. Please, please don’t come looking for me.

You didn’t wait for a reply, realizing you probably wouldn’t be able to handle ignoring whatever it was that Mina or Woo would say in response. You locked your phone before handing it to Namjoon who pocketed it. “I’ll give this to Yoongi later.”

You weren’t super keen on letting the man who wasn’t very fond of you go through your personal device, but you figured it was for the best and Namjoon wouldn’t lead you astray. At least, you hoped as much. Namjoon wrapped one of his long arms under your own arms to help lead you into the warehouse as Jungkook, who had been completely silent throughout the whole ordeal, walked over to your other side to help. Seokjin trailed behind the three of you as you entered the building.

Yoongi didn’t like this. He didn’t like it one bit. As soon as Namjoon had come back to their temporary home, bursting through his door, letting him know they found you, he knew he didn’t like you. Yoongi had hoped against all hope that they wouldn’t find you, or if they did, you wouldn’t believe them or agree to come with them. He was actually positive that you would, in fact, tell them to fuck off. But the fact that you were now here told him you were weak, pathetic even. You would’ve gone with any stranger that told you their sob story. Or at least, that’s what he thought. 

The second Yoongi found out about the young girl, a natural born, that was just like them, he wanted to believe it wasn’t true. What he had found in these six other men, was something he had never felt before. He felt like he was home when he was with them. Bringing you into the equation would only ruin things, make the others forget about him, love him less. He needed them, and they needed him. They didn’t need you, and he was going to make Namjoon and Seokjin see that, too. They were so adamant on finding you, on making sure Hyunwoo and the others never got their hands on you. But why? What made you so special? Sure, you were female, a rarity when it came to natural borns with near perfect DNA. When it came to natural borns with perfect markers in their DNA, males were much more common. But that didn’t mean they had to go and risk their lives, their safety, for you. He knew Namjoon wouldn’t let up, though. He made it his life mission to help natural borns like themselves, save them from the horrors they had gone through. 

Yoongi was bitter. That much was obvious to anyone in the warehouse. But he also didn’t want to let you destroy the relationship and bond that the seven of them built together. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure you hated it here. Make sure you wanted to leave after he was done with you. He couldn’t watch his family fall apart because of some stranger, all because Namjoon was a martyr by nature. No, he couldn’t allow it. 

But the second he took one look at you, standing outside, wet and bloody, saw the look in your big beautiful eyes as he so heartlessly demanded things from you, he knew he stood no chance. 

To be continued...

A/N: WOO! All the boys have been introduced, but we still need to meet two of them. Let me know what you thought! My asks are always open. I also have character sheets for all the boys and YN if you want to know specifics about them. I love hearing from you guys! 

xx Des

taglist: @minifruity​  @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz​ 

copyright aliendes 2020

[radiantroope]

Ruins || Pope Heyward

pairing: pope x reader

mentions: john b x reader if you squint, jj, kiara

requested: no

summary: pope forces you to come clean about your feelings and his reaction isn’t what you hoped.

warnings: angst, a swear word or two, underage drinking

word count: 2.4k+

author’s note: don’t ask where this came from, i was in an angsty mood. there’s a lil fluff but it’s mostly angst. finally felt the urge to write and this was the result <3 i also haven’t edited this yet so sorry for any grammatical errors

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

Pope Heyward was your best friend in the whole world. Sure, you had Kiara, JJ, and John B — but Pope was your person. He was a breath of fresh air when you broke the surface of the ocean’s waves. He was a cold glass of water on a hot Summer's day. He was your anchor when you felt like the weight of growing up was going to crush you.

The two of you had grown up together thanks to the close friendship of your mothers. You realized your feelings for him ran deeper when you were thirteen. 

It had been a day of surfing for the Pogues. Your board glided through the water effortlessly and you tried out some tricks you'd learned over the years. Though, the end of your board tipped a little too far and you were sent tumbling into the water. Everyone had laughed seeing you wipe out, until you didn't immediately resurface.

"Y/N!" Pope screamed, only seeing your board floating on the water.

The Pogues laid on their boards and paddled as quick as they could towards the lonesome object in the water. You would've thought Pope was in the Olympics with how quickly he moved through the saltwater, as if his life depended on it. Just as he reached the board, you broke the surface, desperately gasping for air.

"Y/N," Pope breathed, sliding off his board and helping you back into your own. The sea water momentarily blinded you and you were slapping the water trying to find it. "Breathe, you're okay," he muttered as you straddled your board and coughed harshly.

Once you had finally caught your breath and your coughing had subsided, you looked at your best friend. He was wading the water with one hand on your board, the other rubbing over your back in a soothing fashion. The utter fear in his eyes made your breath hitch as he stared up at you.

"You scared the hell out of me," Pope said through a small laugh but the concerned look never left his face. His hand lingered on your lower back and made goosebumps rise on your skin. He removed it only to grab your hand and squeeze it gently.

You smiled softly at him and returned the squeeze, whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm okay."

Pope gave you a small smile and brought your hand to his lips, placing a quick kiss on the top of it. After that, everyone decided to call it a day. You're incident had given them all a scare and they weren't going to risk something happening again.

That was three years ago. You'd gone three years harboring these feelings for your best friend that you couldn't shake. John B and JJ were no strangers to your feelings. They saw the way you looked at Pope, longing and desperate. A look that was never returned — instead given to the other girl of the group.

That's where you were now, sitting on the edge of the HMS Pogue as John B drove it through the marsh. The sun had started to set and you all decided to head back for the Chateau for some much needed dinner. You'd managed to scrounge up some money picking up shifts with Heyward and decided to order pizza.

Your sunglasses were pulled down over your eyes and you couldn't tear them away from the scene in front of you. Pope and Kiara sat at the back of the boat, shoulder to shoulder. The stunning brunette girl kept giggling at whatever Pope said, playfully slapping at his chest. Pope's eyes were fixated on her, a shining smile adorning his face that grew wider each time Kiara laughed.

Your jaw was set tight — lips pursed. Your eyes tore away from them when you felt a kick against your foot. JJ was laid out on the deck, leaning his weight on his elbow. He'd been watching you glare daggers into the other two for the last ten minutes.

"You okay?" JJ's voice wasn't audible, he simply mouthed the words. He knew the answer but he was hoping you wouldn’t lie to him for once.

The nod you sent him caused him to give you a look that said, I know that's not true. You looked away, instead watching as the Chateau came into view. You stood and moved to other side of the small boat to tie it off.

John B got up to assist you as you watched JJ, Pope and Kiara exit the boat. The curly haired girl shrieked as Pope hoisted her in the air and went running up the dock with her over his shoulder. You felt your chest tighten and looked down to focus on the knot your shaking hands attempted to tie.

"Y/N, maybe you should tell him," John B suggested, knowing the others were far enough away they wouldn't hear him. He was the only one you’d explicitly told how you felt.

"And ruin everything? Yeah, I'd rather let heartbreak eat away at me than be humiliated when he says he doesn't feel the same way," you scoffed and grabbed your backpack off the deck.

"How do you know he doesn't?"

You were standing on the dock now, typing the number of your favorite pizza place into your phone. You looked at John B incredulously and let out a humorless laugh, "Did you completely miss what happened all day? He's practically in love with Kiara, JB. He barely said a word to me cause he was so transfixed on her. I'm not going to let my feelings complicate things within the group."

Your snappy tone and the way you walked away with your phone to your ear signaled the end of that conversation. John B's lips turned down in a frown as he watched you go. He could see the pain in your eyes and it upset him that you were so hurt. The truth was, even he didn't know if Pope reciprocated your feelings. It really did seem like that boy was putting all his eggs in Kiara's basket.

You placed the order as you made your way into the Chateau and towards John B's bedroom to change. One large supreme, one large hawaiian, and two large pepperoni and jalapeño. When you got to splurge on eating out, you did it right — even if you didn't finish it all, eating cold pizza in the morning while nursing a hangover was heavenly.

You closed John B's door and changed into a sports bra and a hoodie. You put on a fresh pair of undies and slipped your jean shorts back on. When you stayed at the Chateau, you typically slept on the pullout with Kiara, but your things were kept in the Routledge boy's room, which he didn't mind. Seeing all of his friends things everywhere made him feel like he wasn't so alone, distracting him from the fact that his father was no longer there.

Twenty minutes later you were all crowded in the living room digging into the boxes of pizza littering the coffee table. Moans of satisfaction left each of your mouths and everyone thanked you for generously splurging on the feast. You waved them all off, insisting it was no big deal. It was rare for The Pogues to ever have this opportunity unless Mr. Carrera gave you scraps at The Wreck that would've been thrown out anyway.

You'd been nursing your second beer of the night for almost an hour while JJ and John B were well into their sixth. Kiara was on her fourth and Pope had barely taken a sip of one. You don't know if it was because of the alcohol but seeing the curly haired girl across from you offer a bite of her half eaten slice of hawaiian to Pope, that without hesitation he bit into, made your blood boil. Your brow furrowed and you averted your gaze your crumb ridden paper plate.

"Pope, stop! Just let me have a bite!" you heard Kiara whine, knowing the boy was offering her a bite of his supreme but pulled it away whenever her lips got close — something he used to do with you.

You downed your beer in record time, catching the attention of a curly haired brunette boy and a shaggy haired blonde. You got up from your spot on the floor and walked into the kitchen, slamming your empty can on the counter. You grabbed a new one from the fridge and exited the Chateau without a word to anyone. You weren't usually much of a drinker so it was a bit surprising to them all.

The hammock that was gently blowing in the wind was calling your name, despite how many nights you remember being curled up under Pope's arm on it. You flopped down and cracked open your beer, staring out into the darkness around you. All you could hear was the gentle sound of moving water, crickets chirping happily in the grass and leaves brushing together in the wind.

You didn’t want to be mad at Kiara or Pope. It wasn’t their fault you had these feelings that wouldn’t go away. It’s not their fault you couldn’t build up the nerve to tell Pope how you felt or how much it bothered you that he was always all over Kiara. But when you saw them together this overwhelming sense of rage filled your body, rage you’d never before experienced. Sometimes you wished you couldn’t feel anything at all and maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Hey,” you were pulled out of your daze by Pope’s voice.

You could see him walking towards you in the dark and you tried to muster a smile. He didn’t sit himself on the hammock beside you like he normally would, instead he stood in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. You took a sip of your beer and averted your gaze to your lap, feeling scrutinized by his amber colored eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head and bit the inside of your cheek as you mumbled out, “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You’ve been acting weird all day,” the sharpness of Pope’s tone caused a pit in your stomach. He was always so calm and gentle with you, despite an outburst, but now he seemed upset. “You’ve been mean to Kie all day and everyone’s noticed.”

You couldn’t stop the roll of your eyes when he mentioned the other girl. To him, it’s all about her. Your jaw set tight and you didn’t answer him. Anything that came out of your mouth in that moment was only going to make everything worse.

“You swore you’d never lie to me,” Pope stated, a desperate tone to his voice now. “That’s our golden rule. You swore.”

Memories flashed in your mind, back to when you and Pope were only eight years old.

“We have to promise, no matter what, we won’t ever lie to each other. Lies tear friendships apart and I never want that to happen to us,” Pope’s voice was so innocent but his words were so powerful. His big doe eyes stared into your own as he held his pinky out to you.

“I swear i’ll never lie to you Pope. You’re my best friend in the whole world,” you sealed it by wrapping your pinky around his own, toothy grins on display.

The founding principle of your friendship was honesty — something that transcended with the other Pogues when you befriended them. Pogues don’t lie to Pogues. But you weren’t lying, you were just protecting yourself, him and your friendship with the others. Though, something about his words sparked something in you.

“I’ve been acting weird because you’re too god damn oblivious for your own good,” you desperately tried to keep your voice calm and level. “I’ve been mean to Kie because watching you throw yourself at her is ripping me in two and you don’t even see it.”

Pope stared at you, not knowing how to react to your confession. He blinked and waited for you to continue, knowing once you started you couldn’t stop.

“I’ve tried so hard to not let my feelings interfere with our friendship but I can’t pretend anymore. I cant pretend I haven’t been in love with you for the last three years, probably more, and that I don’t wish I was the one you were cuddled up with on the boat or sharing your pizza with. Watching you fall in love with someone else is more painful than anything I’ve ever known, Pope, and you’re blind to it.”

Hot tears were now running down your cheeks. You searched your best friend’s face for any sort of reaction. He had this look in his eyes that you couldn’t read and the pit in your stomach grew. He doesn’t feel the same way.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Pope’s voice trailed off as he hugged his arms around himself tighter.

Everything came crumbling around you as you fought back the sobs in your chest. You got up from the hammock and tried to make your escape. He reached for your arm but you shrugged him off. She was giving you this look that said I’m so sorry, but you didn’t want his sympathy. It’s not his fault your feelings were one sided. You just couldn’t help but feel like you’d just ruined everything.

You burst back into the Chateau, tear stains on your cheeks and hot, fresh tears blurring your vision. You walked past the other’s who were still gathered in the living room. You tried to gather your things from John B’s room as fast as you could, shoving them into the backpack you kept in the corner.

“Hey, hey,” John B’s voice was gentle as he came up behind you.

“I told you! I told you it would ruin everything!” you wailed and fought against the boy’s grip on your shoulders.

You just wanted to leave but John B wasn’t going to let you in your current state. He pulled you back and collapsed on the floor, back against his bed as you fell into his chest between his legs. You curled into him and sobbed against his neck. Ugly, throat tearing cries left your mouth.

John B squeezed you close with one arm and the other held the back of your head. He shushed you gently and whispered empty promises that everything would be okay. He made eye contact with JJ who stood in the doorway, an uneasy look swimming in his cerulean eyes.

Deep down the three of you knew that everything was going to change.

tags: @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks @letsgofullkook @queenk00k @jjmbanks @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids

[alcalavicci]

1988 interview with Dean. This is a really good one and helps bring more of his life into perspective. Note: the newspaper originally censored his swearing, but I’ve put it back.

Guthman, Edward. "Dean Stockwell: Third Time's a Charm." The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California), August 14, 1988.

“Six years ago, Dean Stockwell's acting career had turned to dust. Reduced to playing parts in unreleasable, made-in-Mexico movies that now make him cringe, Stockwell decided to chuck it all and get out of Hollywood.

“Along with his second wife, Joy, Stockwell moved to Santa Fe, settled down under the wide New Mexico sky and applied for a real estate license. He even placed an ad in Daily Variety to announce his exile: 'Dean Stockwell will help you with all your real estate needs in the new center of creative energy.'

“Stockwell never sold a house; he didn't need to. Instead, almost as soon as he'd relocated, things started happening to the former 1940s child star. It began with a small part in David Lynch's 'Dune,' and escalated with an important supporting role in Wim Wenders' highly regarded 'Paris, Texas.'

“Moving back to California to cash in on his fortune, Stockwell acted in 'Beverly Hills Cop II,' 'Gardens of Stone,' and 'To Live and Die in L.A.' He also played a cameo role, as Howard Hughes, in the newly released 'Tucker: The Man and His Dream.' And in 'Blue Velvet,' David Lynch's American nightmare, he delivered a chilling cameo as Ben, a waxlike, sexually ambiguous drug dealer.

“And now, at 52, Stockwell says he's found 'the favorite role I've had, by far.'

“The picture is 'Married to the Mob,' a dark, romantic comedy by Jonathan Demme ('Melvin and Howard,' 'Stop Making Sense') and Stockwell plays Mafia don Tony 'the Tiger' Russo. Wearing an Al Capone fedora and full-length vicuna coat, Tony is a rich, sardonic, larger-than-life character -- the kind Stockwell has never had a chance to play until now.

“Opening Friday at the Galaxy and UA the Movies, 'Married to the Mob' has been touted as Demme's first shot at a genuine box-office winner. Set in Long Island, New Jersey and Florida, it stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Angela DeMarco, a young Mafia wife who tries to start a new life when her husband, Frankie 'the Cucumber' DeMarco, is pumped full of lead during a hot-tub tryst at the Fantasia Motel.

“When Stockwell's character isn't ordering hits, drug deals and the dumping of toxic waste, he's lusting assiduously after the gorgeous widow. Meanwhile, bumbling FBI agent Mike Downey (played by Matthew Modine) is jumping through hoops trying to shadow Angela and 'catch Tony with his pants down.' Instead, he falls in love with Angela.

“During a recent luncheon interview, not far from his central California home, Stockwell spoke about the film, about his new happiness as the father of two children and about the bizarre trajectory of his long career. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a Panama hat and drawing first on a cigaret, later on a cigar, Stockwell emanates prosperity and calm.

“'I don't know why I was unemployed so long,' he says, reflecting on a fallow period that started in the '60s and lasted the better part of two decades. 'The only thing I can figure out in my own mind is that, for some reason or another, I was being made to wait until a certain time in my life when my talent would reach its full maturity and fruition.'

“Ironically, he says, he felt just as equipped 10 years ago to do the work he's doing now -- 'only I couldn't get fucking arrested.'

“Today, Stockwell sees harmony in the fact that his new success coincides with the arrival of two children. His son, Austin, will be 5 in November, and his daughter, Sophia, turns 3 this month. Inordinately proud and protective, he refuses to allow his children to be photographed, and also requests that the town in which he and his family reside not be named. (There were no children from his first marriage, to Millie Perkins, which lasted from 1960 to 1962.)

“'I want to make a lot of money and I want to put it away for my children,' he says. To that end, Stockwell has been snapping up job offers. 'A lot of people ask me, "How have you been able to choose these wonderful things you're doing? Have you been very selective?" And I have to tell them, "I haven't been choosing what I'm doing." Things have been coming and I've been accepting virtually anything that's come.'

“Stockwell's ambition is so great that, for the first time in his life, he actively pursues aspects of his career that he once shunned- interviews, for example.

“'My entire motivation in life is my family,' he says. 'I don't need to get an award. I don't need recognition. I've had that already. What I need is to provide. The best way I can provide is to be successful, and the best way I can be successful is to take advantage of all the things at my disposal to achieve that, one of which certainly is press.'

“Take a look at the young Stockwell, specifically the version that emerges from old magazine and newspaper interviews, and you meet another person altogether.

“Robbed of a normal childhood, Stockwell had made 22 films by the time he was 15 -- including 'The Boy with Green Hair,' 'Kim,' 'Anchors Aweigh,' and the Oscar-winning 'Gentleman's Agreement.' Working nonstop, he had a privileged life that millions of children probably envied, but he loathed it nonetheless.

“The son of show-business parents -- his father, Harry Stockwell, was the voice of the Prince in 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,' and his mother, Betty Veronica, was a former stage dancer -- Stockwell made his professional debut at 7. It all happened by a fluke: when Stockwell accompanied his older brother, Guy, on a Broadway audition, the casting director took a liking to both boys, and cast each one. The play, aptly enough, was called 'Innocent Voyage,' and it led to an MGM contract for curly-haired Dean.

“From the beginning, the pressure on young Stockwell was intense. His parents had divorced when he was 6, and when his father defaulted on child-support payments, Dean reluctantly became the family provider. Over a six-year period, he averaged three to four films per year.

“At home, he says, 'There was a lot of friction... I was getting all the attention, but I hated it. [Guy] couldn't appreciate that, because he wasn't getting the attention. He had all these friends, his peer group, that he took for granted. I had none and I resented him for being able to live that way. I was fucking lonely.'

“When he was 13, chained to a seven-year contract, Stockwell was described by one magazine as 'a young rebel who despises acting and resents every moment it takes from his fleeting boyhood.' Many years later, Stockwell told columnist Hedda Hopper, 'Child actors exist in a sort of limbo between childhood and maturity and belong to neither. Adults take them too seriously and other children are either awed or hostile. A child actor can find friends in neither group.'

“Finally, Stockwell fled Hollywood when he was 16. He cut off his curly locks, started using his real name, Robert Stockwell, and for the next five years roamed the country, working menial jobs and disavowing his true identity. 'People that might have known me from seeing my films knew me as a young child,' he remembers. 'Now I was 17 and I wasn't that recognizable.'

“Around the time of his 21st birthday, Stockwell was pushing papers as mail boy to a Manhattan plumbing firm. 'Of all the jobs that I'd had in those intervening years,' he remembers. 'I think I hated that worse than anything. I came to the realization I had no training at anything. My primary education was very skimpy, very poor, and happened under the worst type of conditions. I was literally at the mercy of the world.'

“Most of Stockwell's childhood earnings were squandered by crooked accountants, he says, and he knew that the tiny sum being held in a trust wouldn't last forever. 'So I thought, "What am I gonna do? Well, let's go back and attack this [acting career] again, and see if I can do it a little more on my terms."'

“What followed for Stockwell was a brief but impressive 'second career.' He starred in the 1959 film 'Compulsion,' based on the Leopold-Loeb case of the '20s, and won a joint acting award with Orson Welles and Bradford Dillman at the Cannes Film Festival. He played the lead in the 1960 film of D. H. Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers,' and in 1962 scored the plum role of Edmund Tyrone in Sidney Lumet's film version of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night,' holding his own alongside Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards.

“Stockwell was winning the best parts, but found his attention drifting elsewhere. What was happening, he says, were the first signs of the '60s youth revolution. 'It captured my imagination as much as anybody's. And it represented to me -- I can see this in retrospect -- something in childhood that I had missed: the freedom and loving being alive, without responsibilities and work and having to report to the studio every day, and deal with fans and interviews and shit that I hated when I was a kid.'

“So Stockwell called his agent, said, 'I'm not workin',' and dropped out once again. When he tried to come back three years later, though, 'I found it very difficult, 'cause I'd been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.' What followed was a long period of marginal employment: He found some TV work, took parts in low-budget trash ('The Dunwich Horror') and occasional oddities (Dennis Hopper's 'The Last Movie') and co-directed a film with musician Neil Young ('Human Highway') but often just didn't work at all. At one point, he went 18 months without a job.

“Today, along with his buddy Hopper, Stockwell is enjoying a major career renaissance. And with his starring role in 'Married to the Mob,' he says, he's never felt more confident.

“'I knew before I started the film that this character was going to work in spades,' he says, adding that Demme, as director, deserves credit for taking a risk with such offbeat casting. Instead of picking Peter Falk, Vincent Gardenia or another ethnically identified actor to play the Mafia don, he went with Stockwell (who is actually half-Italian on his mother's side).

“Demme's inspiration occurred on a flight from Los Angeles to New York, when he opened a copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Stockwell had just changed agents, and in order to announce the fact, had taken out a full-page ad. Demme saw the picture, and instantly recognized his Tony.

“Weirdly enough, Stockwell made another film immediately prior to 'Married to the Mob': a Canadian feature called 'Palais Royale,' due for an October release, in which he plays a character almost identical to Tony Russo.

“'It's very curious,' he says. 'For all my years I'd never had a role like this come my way, and here it was twice. The Mafia don in New York, the Mafia don in Toronto, both of them colorful and charming and also threatening. And I just thought, "What am I gonna do? It's the same character." So I decided to do the same character in both those movies.'

“To take the coincidence 'one nauseating step further,' Stockwell says he's also got a part in the recently completed 'Backtrack,' Hopper's next film. This time he plays a corrupt mob lawyer, dropping the Italian accent for a generalized East Coast sound.

“It would be difficult to find a film actor who's busier than Stockwell at this moment. And it would be difficult to find anyone whose job history better illustrates the vicissitudes, serendipities and insecurity of a Hollywood career.

“Looking back on his misfortunes -- at the career that he was forced to accept as a child, and the humiliation he felt when he couldn't maintain it as an adult -- Stockwell says he's not bitter. 'When you reach your maturity, I think it behooves you to accept the fact that it's absolutely futile and fruitless even to speculate on changing anything in your life. All you can do is get embittered. So I accept everything that's happened as part of my life, and try to push it in a positive direction from the moment right now.'”

[hopetofantasy]

Wandering Romance

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): none applied.   Created for @skamevents Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”  

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.  

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

—————————————————————

CHAPTER 2: 'No one sees what I see in you’

—————————————————————

“So this is it then?”

A beautiful boy with mesmerizing eyes lying in arms. The warmth of love. It felt like puzzle pieces finally fitting together, after months of frustration and searching for anything that might look like it. Something that had been missing for quite some time. It just didn’t add up? Long sighs, hurtful eyes, loaded silences that made them more sad than happy. Their love wasn’t strong enough to deal with this...

No, he didn’t believe that.

They were strong enough.

Just not now...

He was caressing the cheek of his lover, his best friend, his partner in crime. Another part of the pair, the amazing family they had. Fathers. Their boy. All tossed away, like it was nothing. A paper crumbled in the trash. Like they never even were. And because of what? Why? Why now? Why this? This wasn’t right. They both knew it wasn’t.

He sighed to stop the spiraling.

His hands started to clench into a fist. He was so angry at first, he was so angry and sad at the world. He was promised forever, they both promised each other that their love would survive anything. The perfect man in a beautiful white suit and him wearing the black one. Ying and yang. Always complimenting each other, begging for a deeper connection, receiving it and now cutting it away.

Like his heart.

“Is this it? Can’t we keep trying? Please?”

His eyes were staring inside those deep ones. His tanned skinned hand slightly caressing his lover’s arm. Mindlessly. They were used to pillow talk until the early morning, the sunrise. The night sky turning from dark blue to light orange hues, exactly the color he once made by accident, trying out the paint samples on his palette. A beautiful coincidence. Just like the night they met.

As if faith knew.

When the other boy didn’t answer, he just went for it. His lips trying to convey everything he felt inside the troubled mind, his hands feeling every hitched breath taken away from his other half, the softness of a wanted caress, but also the sting from nails digging in his back, the bite of pleasure, the strained movement of legs  - as if love couldn’t be felt without some pain. It suited them, he thought. Every day could be a high. Every day could be a low.

His fingers gripped the sheets of their shared bed. Sharing it for the last time.  

“Oh my god, schat”, exclaimed the one.

“I love you”, answered the other.

“I love you too”, was moaned.

“Don’t leave me, please”, was said.

A tear rolling off a heated cheek.

Kissed by soft eyelashes.

The silence that followed wasn’t wounding. It was passion, it was love, it was a high that never experienced a low. A white light behind the eyes. Stars for their lights. Something shared only between them. And never would be again.

“Let us go... please”

The whisper.

And that’s when Sander woke up from his dream.

When he started to cry.

-^-

“Papa, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, darling, always. What is it?”

“How did you and paps meet?”

Oof, that was such a loaded question for a Monday morning. And he didn’t even have his first coffee yet. His eyes instantly analyzed David’s face, which was just a pure reflection of playfulness and wonder. The tiny boy seemed to concoct something on his breakfast croissant. It looked like choco spread, decorated with speculaas cookies.

What is this? Where the hell did he get that idea? This can’t be healthy right?

“Sweetie, did you eat a hearty sandwich before shoving this in your mouth? You can’t live on sweets, you know that. You won’t grow to be a big boy, then!”

“But, papa, I like it. Can I have this, like... one time?”

Oh no, not the puppy eyes.

He was a real manipulator with those big brown orbs. The kid was 9 years old, for God’s sake, how could he be this smart? He knew exactly how to play the game to convince them of mischievous things, things that were bad for him and stuff they needed to say ‘no’ to. But it was sooo rewarding to just say ‘yes’. Just to see the beautiful grin creep up onto the face he loved so much.

Something Sander wanted to collect in a jar and pull out whenever he had his ‘cloudy days’. David didn’t understand the concept of bipolarity yet, so once he was old enough to notice something, they had sat him down to explain. “David, sweetie. You know how papa is sometimes a bit different?”, Robbe tried to approach the subject, while their son stared with unsung tears in his eyes.

“Yeah, he lies on the bed and sleeps and don’t eat and is very, very sad. I don’t understand. Does papa hate me? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry...”

If the room was a stethoscope, the family would’ve heard a heart breaking. It was one thing that Robbe had to deal with his mania and depression. Now another innocent soul was being corrupted by his stupid brain and Sander just couldn’t deal with that. The pain he might induce, the worry in his soul almost growing too much. But as always, his other half seemed to know what to do. While holding his hand, to anchor him back to this world, Robbe explained.

“No, darling. Papa will always love you. Even if you did bad things. But now you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? You see, people have a bright sun inside them. And sometimes that happy, beautiful sun will have clouds blocking their light. Clouds who bring in bad weather, like being tired, not being hungry, not wanting to talk, have sad thoughts, just wanting to sleep all the time. And that’s okay. Because after a few days of rain, comes the sunshine, right?”

“And sometimes a rainbow!”, their beautiful boy exclaimed.

A couple of teeth missing in the front, but his smile was beaming nonetheless. It melted their hearts. “Yes,” Sander whispered softly. If he wasn’t sure about how much he loved his curly angels before, he knew now. When did he become so lucky to have such beautiful love? Him and his loving partner hugging their soft boy, giggling all together, without a care in the world. A fulfilling life.

Perfection.

“Papa, are you there?”

Sander blinked back some tears, while trying to focus on the situation at hand. David was glaring at him, already halfway through the disgustingly sweet croissant in his hands. Some crumbs were falling down the plate. And the choco paste tainting his pink cheeks. The look in his face was peculiar, like he tried to figure out what his dad was thinking. If he was going ‘cloudy’.

“David... I do remember that I never told you ‘yes’, right?”

The answer was a simple shrug.

“You didn’t answer my question about paps, either. C’est la vie.”

To say that Sander was perplexed, is an serious understatement.

-^-

When Sander was thirteen, he knew.

He wasn’t normal.

This was way before he was diagnosed with bipolarity, but that wasn’t the only thing not fitting the ‘standard normal’. He knew the boys in his class and he simply didn’t like them. They were all talking about video games, Call Of Duty: Black Ops, while eating their weight in greasy snacks and referring to girls like pieces of meat. Making jokes about what they learned from their older siblings or watching too much nighttime television.

And he didn’t.

He liked to write, he wanted to be a writer someday. And paint. Drawing was amazing. Sander loved walking around with cut jeans, graphic band t-shirts and a bleached buzzcut. One day, he’d love to have a pierced eyebrow. That was considered cool in his book. Maybe his career would be ‘rock-and-roll’ artist, since he played the drums too. Something to get his energy out.

Because he had ADHD.

At least, that’s what his doctor said. He just wanted different things than others and sometimes all at once. Was that weird? Apparently so. But he wasn’t entirely convinced about having the disorder. It sounded ill-fitting. Like a shrunken skinny jeans in the dryer, the broken mug in his room where he put his discarded pencils. It didn’t make sense.

Because he was who he was.

He liked who he was.

But who was he exactly?

He knew the day he changed schools. His mom somehow knew, the way only mothers do, that the previous school wasn’t the right fit for him. His course orientation was ‘sciences’ and he almost failed everyone of his classes. Sander was struggling to keep afloat. Almost drowning at the formulas and facts and figures. Those were more abstract to him than art. Art made sense, somehow?

And that’s why his mom send him to an art school.

There he saw people with asymmetric hair, nose rings and cut t-shirts. Girls with alluring auras, rainbow shoes and paint covered arms. Boys with mesmerizing eyes, fresh make-up and decorated backpacks. Beautiful souls who talked about art like breathing. Who understood things like writer’s block, portrait frustration and tunnel vision.

And he fell in love with them, all of them.

His people.

It took him a few years to understand what else made him special. Because he did fall in love with people’s souls, their auras, instead of a specific gender. It was a highlight in his life when he figured that one out. He finally knew another piece of the puzzle. Life was complicated, but knowing something more about yourself, made it so much easier.

His first crush was on a dark skinned boy from his drawing class. He didn’t reciprocate feelings, but liked Sander as a friend. Ekon appreciated the way Sander caught him in his art pieces. Complimented him on how he perfectly attained his off-beat smile, when someone made a joke at his expense. He was a quiet boy. But a boy, nonetheless.

And then there was Saartje. An unconventional girl, even for an art school. She seemed to walk around like an ice queen surrounded by raging fires. Hated every thing he suggested to lift her sculptures to a new level, always answering his comments with a cold stare. Such a soft girly name for such a raging bitch.

And Sander couldn’t help but fall.

Hard.

Without parachute.

But she used that to her advantage.

His love was treated as an exchange. If Sander would shut up about his newest passion called David Bowie, she’d give him a kiss. When he asked her on a date, she would think about it. Maybe if Sander could persuade the teacher to give her a better grade? And if he paid? Being the hormonal teenager he was, he obliged. And he believed. He was tricked into uncertain love.

Something he carried with him.

Especially after his eventual diagnosis. He dated Britt. He thought he deserved this kind of love. The uncertainty, the doubt, the hardships. It was all his brain’s fault, for being the way he was. Love? Love was something to be earned, not to be given. And nobody would give that up so easily for someone as broken as him.

Until that one boy,

in the moonlight.

He never saw true beauty ‘til this night.

And his heart,

did love as true again.

-^-

“Do you want any help with that?”

“Papa, I know how to make myself look like Bowie, you know.”

Sander snorted. He was truly a son of his, wasn’t he? This tiny boy was sitting on a high chair, right in front of a mirror, attempting to put on the make-up in a dramatic way. The tip of his tongue spilling out his lips, trying very hard to focus. He couldn’t stop staring at this sight, which filled him with pride. He must have taught him well.

The next generation was secured.

“Dad, stop staring at me and go find my other dad.”, David said sternly.

Ok, but who was the parent in this relationship exactly? Sometimes Sander didn't know. Yet, catching the eye of the supervisor right behind him, he was sure that everything was going to be a-okay. Maybe he did needed to find Robbe and the boys. It’ll do him some good. It had been ages since they had some real interaction that wasn’t through a phone.

It wasn’t difficult to spot them through the crowd of curious adults. The exaggerated screaming at each other was enough. Robbe had been pulled into the biggest hug by Milan, flanked by a jumping Moyo, giggling Aaron and a serious Jens. It sounded like the weirdest end of the world. But the feeling that coursed through his heart wasn’t unusual.

Pride.

For what they all achieved.

How they all stayed together.

Through hell and back.

Moyo had, somehow, become a successful club owner of a couple of nightlife establishments all around the city. From an only-known-by-initiates speakeasy to a high paid, high-end sky club, he knew what he wanted to do with his life and brought it to the table. Jens, on the other hand, went on a totally different route. After failing to start a few start-ups, he became g a video editing/sound mix freelancer and stay-at-home dad to help his lawyer-wife.

Aaron was still on the grind as a social worker, working until late at night to fight for the hardest cases. “These people deserve a happy ending”, he’d always say. And Sander couldn’t agree more.

Last but not least, Milan. The interior designer with an ecological mind. He had helped them out with the decoration of their home, which was totally picture perfect. And still cheap as f.

After the whole ordeal of greeting, Robbe seemed to have a huge smile plastered on his face. That was good, Sander though. Lately he looked so lost, certainly in Sander’s neighborhood. And he didn’t know why. As far as he knew, he didn’t say or do anything wrong. On the contrary. He’d encouraged Robbe to bring Wouter along, saying it was totally okay to find love again.

Where was that bastard, anyways?

“Heeeeeey, Jack Frost!”, the entire group turned towards him and engulfed him into an instant hug. Causing a lot of high pitched giggling, ‘omg, your hand is on my butt’-s and eye rolls. The warmth next to him was familiar, though. As was the scent. Which made his heart drum a little harder, like it wasn’t stating the obvious already. Pulling away, the electrified gaze lingered.

“How are you?”, the one asked.

“I’m good.”, the other answered.

He wanted to know more. Sander always wanted to know more. His heart never stopped beating for this boy, so everything he would say, would be engraved in his soul. His broken mind. His eternal love. That would never change. Even through the pain, he knew that they belonged together. That it was neither fault. Life just happened.

Like always.

But before he could ask anything else, a woman approached the brown haired man. Some colorful glasses, a beautiful classic dress and an intrigued smile on her face. Robbe immediately greeted her as ‘Mrs. Raymaeckers’. “I saw David backstage. Are you ready to see the performance, Mr. Ijzermans?”, she politely asked. Robbe slowly nodded his head with a careful smile.

“Ofcourse, David is going to be amazing, he was bouncing off the walls about this. I’m interested in what he’s going to play...”

“Ah yes. The David Bowie thing. He’s truly special, isn’t he? Unique in some ways.”, she giggled, while wrapping her hand around his arm. Causing a lot of heads unsubtly turning towards the gesture.

“I love how he has such a playful spirit. Does he have that from his father or his mother?”. She blinked rapidly. Auburn hair tossed over her shoulder. A beaming smile.

Wait...

Was she...

Trying to flirt with him?

A potential married man?

Sander saw how the other boys desperately held in their laughs. Some of them failed. Robbe’s cheeks reddened slightly, like he didn’t know how to answer this delicate question.

She just assumed he was straight?

That was such heteronormativity.

It irked the beach blonde man, that people could still think this way, like a child couldn’t have two fathers or mothers?

“He has that from me, actually.”

Six pairs of eyes bore into his. Most of them applauding the ballsy move on his part, one of them grateful for this way out. The last one, however, went through a whole process.

Confusion, calculation, realization and shame.

“Oh... I’m sorry.”, Mrs. Raymaeckers sheepishly stated. "I didn’t know. I just assumed... Ahem. Well, I’m gonna check the rest. Bye, Mr Ijzermans. Bye, Mr-”

“Driesen.”, he answered coldly.

“Bye, Mr. Driesen.” And with that, she was gone. As fast as the wind.

He didn’t like it.

He just didn’t.

How people could still think the way they did, how they would just come up to potential married men and flirt with them? How was that okay?

He knew he was clenching his fist, because of the pain. Fingernails making tiny half moons. It stung. Jealousy and anger tasting like poison in his mouth. His stare trying to find a fixated spot to calm his breathing.

He found it in some deep brown eyes.

A cautious smile coming towards him. He knew. Robbe always knew what Sander needed, even when he didn’t know himself. He was intuitive that way. His beautiful man, such a perfect human. The father of his child. And he couldn’t help, but sigh. Breathing slowly, heart thumping. A small caress around his fist, trying to soften the harsh ache. Only making the ache in his heart greater.

“Robbe”, he whispered silently.

“Yeah, Sander?”

He didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t. Robbe needed to live his own life, making his own mistakes, battle his own prejudices. Feeling his own real love. So Sander just stood there. Looking at the face he adored the most and he started to notice something. It almost looked like Robbe was anticipating this, was waiting for some kind of answer, some kind of truth.

And that's when they heard it.

A David Bowie lookalike coming onto the stage.

Childlike coughing in the microphone.

The first notes of a guitar riff.

The scratchy start of ‘doodoodoo''.

The song.

David Bowie.

The sign.

“You've got your mother in a whirl She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl Hey babe, your hair's alright Hey babe, let's go out tonight You like me, and I like it all We like dancing and we look divine You love bands when they're playing hard You want more and you want it fast They put you down, they say I'm wrong You tacky thing, you put them on.

Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress Rebel rebel, your face is a mess Rebel rebel, how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so!”

[billie-ford]

The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be

1

“I am going to beat the holy fuck, fucking, fuckity fuck outta one of you sorry fucks.”

Those crude words had been the last Billie had heard before looking between her family; kneeling in the hard gravel, sweating, illuminated by the yellow head lights of the heavy duty trucks surrounding them and shaking from the unrelenting cold. It was the cold - or it was the fear. Billie had given Maggie her coat, but even the fur lined denim couldn’t seize the quake of terror in her bones. Her eyes, wide and glossy, didn’t follow the man as he paced in front of her group, only catching the reflective glint of barbed wire as he passed her by. She wanted to look at him. To square her shoulders like the ginger brute to her left and stare with an unwavering anger before standing, fighting them all off like the hero in all of those action movies.

But she wasn’t their hero. And she was so, so scared.

His pacing continued, his boots kicked gravel into their laps and he waved his weapon of choice frivolously while uttering:

“Eenie, meenie, miney, mo..”

Maggie, hunched over in pain, searched the gravel to her left. Her hand found Billie’s and she gave it a tight squeeze, somewhere between fear and comfort. She heaved and whimpered, snot and hot tears and sweat dampened every inch of her face and the hand she so desperately grabbed was an anchor to keep her from completely doubling over - preparing herself for the worst. They were out here for her, warranting her safety, now she couldn’t ensure theirs.

“-and you...are...it.”

The rapid beating of her heart reached her ears, blocking out all other sounds as if she were suddenly thrusted underwater, hands around her throat. Drowning and choking. It was heartbreak she was feeling. Maggie gripped her hand tighter and her breath drew sharply.

“You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that.”

The first crack of bat on skull met her ear. So vivid and echoing that she questioned if she had been the one to receive the blow. But as the blood splattered on her clothes, on her sweat soaked skin, and she listened to the repeating squelch of brain matter and cracking skull she felt nothing but dread. Unfortunately, she was not the one taking the blows. Now she had to watch as her older brother’s head was beaten into an unrecognizable pulp.

1991

Little feet stomped along the carpeted hallway from the stairs to the dead end. “Abraham? Are you awake?” The seven year old’s shaky voice couldn’t have been louder than a mouse as she knocked carefully on her older brother’s bedroom door. Another sharp crack of thunder caused the child to yelp, banging on the door this time and yelling his name.

The door creaked and with a hand scratching at his curly red fro, Abraham was half awake and staring down at his kid sister. The paper she had taped to his door within the year said it all - B.F.G.

He was looming - all six foot two of him - but his smile was soft, and as another crack of thunder startled the child he guided her into the room and let her bury herself beneath his multitude of quilts.

“Aren’t you too old to be scared of thunderstorms, pup?” 

He was already in bed, eyes closed and half muffled by his pillow before she could unveil herself from the quilt. She wormed her way in the crook of his arm and laid staring at the shadows that danced on the ceiling, her arms crossed evasively. “No..”

“What’s so bad ‘bout ‘em anyways? I think they’re calming..”

“It’s so quiet..then it’s so loud. Like scary movies.” She wasn’t a big fan of scary movies.

“You shouldn’t be watching scary movies.” “But I watch them with you.” “Well I ain’t your daddy.”

Another crack. Despite his teasing, Abraham’s arm instinctively tightened around his little sister and a calloused paw - good for catching a football or starting fights with the other college students - stroked her wild curls.

“I would beat those storms up if I could, ya know. And I’d tell ‘em Big Bad Billie sent me. Maybe I’d let you get a good few kicks in too.” This got a smile from the child. She believed him.

“I wish you could always be around..”

Abraham sat up, his head in his hand and frowned down at the child who glowed dark blue in the moonlight. There was a melancholic air to her naturally, perplexing for someone her age, and that cloud of sadness only seemed to grow heavier with the days counting down to his return to campus. He could see it now; their father holding the back of her shirt tightly as he pulled out of the driveway in his beat up hand-me-down truck. She’d scream and cry and kick and eventually break away from his grasp before running after the truck yelling over and over, “take me with you! just take me too!”

He would just have to keep driving or else his rain cloud would burst too.

“I’m always here for you, pup. Even when I ain’t here.” “That doesn’t make sense.”

He chuckled. “I mean I ain’t never gonna leave you forever. Think about it; I’m only gone for a few weeks until the next break then I’m right back here. When I am gone I call you every night. I send you those little cards from campus. When I’m gone, off to school or work, I’m always thinkin’ aboutcha. When I come home I don’t leave your side. You know I’m always here for you, pup. That means I’ll always protect ya. You know that right?”

“Yeah..” “Y’know you’re tough too right?” “Guess so..” “Betchu didn’t even notice the storm died out.”

Like a dog hearing the mailman she perked up and looked outside. No thunder, no lightning, not even a sprinkle of rain. The trees now danced slowly with the wind and a branch just beyond the glass waved at her lazily. “I didn’t even hear it stop..”

“‘Cause you ain’t all that scared. It’s just all in your head, pup.” “Can I still sleep in here then?” “Well yeah. Or less you done woke me up for nothin’.”

2

Dawn had broke more than an hour ago. The truck was filled with uneasy silence. Faces were dried with blood and tears and breaths were ragged. Sasha sat in the back seat, stroking Maggie’s still damp hair as her head rested, exhausted, in her lap. All three women were emotionally and physically drained. Sasha stared blankly at the back of Billie’s head, every so often attempting to open her mouth and speak but the only sound that managed to come out was a strangled gasp. She drove in stunned silence. Never looking at the two women in the back seat. Her muscles looked lack, spent, as she loosely gripped the steering wheel and her tired eyes brimmed with sadness while focusing on the road ahead. At least she looked to be focused, Sasha had grown use to the far away look that overcame Billie from time to time; when she had switched into autopilot and let her muscle memory guide her to where she needed to be.

“How are you?” Sasha finally croaked after what felt like hours of silence.

“No better than you.”

Sasha had only been dating Abraham for a handful of months, but she had known him for much longer. Loved him for much longer. She loved him like she had known him her whole life and in terms of before and after - she almost did. In his final moments, she had been the only one to receive his recognition - maybe Billie too - but Sasha wouldn’t look away. Only until she had to. Only when the sound of his brutal death made her lunch churn in her stomach and rise to her throat did she find the gravel beneath her. A simple hand gesture, a trademark peace sign, was all Abraham had to send one last goodbye to the two he loved the most.

“Are you going back?” “I have to make sure Maggie’s a’right first.” “What about Rosita?” “She has the others.”

Sasha fell quiet with a nod. Billie was lost, that much she could see. That thousand yard stare usual came with a silent racking of her brain. She didn’t say another word the entire drive, turning her attention back to Maggie who was now looking up at her through half-lidded eyes.

3

“You were out...out here for me.” “We still are.”

Billie followed Maggie on wobbly legs. She was sobbing, Billie’s last statement only making it worse. She reached out for her, her hand brushed off as Maggie kneeled in front of what remained of her husband, the father of her unborn child. Glenn Rhee. The pizza boy that convinced Billie to join him and his group when she was on her own. 

She owed him everything.

“I can make it now, I need you to go back. I can’t have you out here - I can’t have you all out here I need you to go back.”

Billie crouched down beside her, hands squeezing comfort into her trembling shoulders. “I’m not leaving you out here alone,” her voice cracked. “I’m here for you. We’re all here for you.”

Billie hurt for Maggie. Maggie hurt for Billie. They hurt for everyone and everyone hurt for them.

“I’m taking them. I’m taking you too.”

4

Hilltop opened their gates upon recognizing the face behind the wheel of the pickup. Looks of confusion morphed to frowns of sorrow when Billie emerged from the truck, revealing the headless bodies laid in the bed with the simple muttering of, Negan.

She assisted Sasha in bringing Maggie to her feet and led her further into the compound. “Get her to Carson.” Billie croaked. “You go with her, Sash. Make sure she has a familiar face to wake up to.”

“What about them-” “I’ll handle it. Please go.”

She was apprehensive, staring at Billie with worry and only beginning her trek to the infirmary when Maggie’s weight slumped over on her. “Anything we can do to help?” A number of Hilltop members surrounded her. Those who have been so kind to them all, dead and alive, before this.

“Show me where I can bury them.

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 20 “Sick Day” 

a/n: thank you all for reading and leaving comments! a big thank you to @lcbeauchampoftarth who cleans up my mess <3 next week, I will not be posting because I will be out of town, but I will make it up the next week with two chapters! xx enjoy! 

Arc I | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 | Ch. 19

December 11th, 2019

Claire had spent nearly all day yesterday trying to distract herself from thinking about the results of the new paternity test. She cleaned the house, and every inch was nearly spotless. When she found her thoughts drifting to the results again, she took Madeline to the park. However, it had been too cold, and that was why she was now lying in bed with a fever and a runny nose.

“I told ye not to go outside, Sassenach. Twas too cold for ye and Mads.” Jamie handed her a cup of water. “At least Madeline isna sick.”

“Thank God for that,” Claire croaked out. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I was just so restless, I needed to do something.”

“You never can sit still, aye,” Jamie chuckled. He’d decided to take the day off of work when he woke up next to a sweating Claire, complaining of a headache. “Are you hungry? Want to try some soup again?”

Trying to sit up, Claire experienced a wave of nausea and shook her head. “Not just yet, maybe later.”

“Alright, I’m going to check on Madeline and make sure she’s okay.” Jamie rose from the bed. “Then I’ll come back. Maybe we can watch a movie or something.”

Nodding, Claire felt guilty for getting sick. It wasn’t often that she did, always careful to wash her hands and wipe down surfaces around the house. All she wanted to do was cuddle with her baby, but she feared spreading her cold to her.

“That sounds good, but I’ll probably fall asleep.”

“Ye need rest, Sassenach. Maybe ye gettin’ sick is a good thing — it’ll make ye finally rest.” Jamie kissed her forehead and left her to check on Madeline.

She was in her crib, fast asleep. Jamie didn’t know how they’d gotten so lucky with her. Madeline cried, of course — she had lungs of steel and could wake the dead. But when she slept, she put her thumb in her mouth and barely made a peep.

Tucking the soft pink blanket around her, Jamie rubbed his thumb over her cheek. He then touched the small tuft of red hair that was forming into curls. Today was the day that they would likely find out the results of the second paternity test. Well, today or tomorrow. It didn’t matter to Jamie — not really. The only thing that mattered now was finding out the truth and possibly shutting down the lab — and getting Frank out of their lives once and for all.

“Sing me a song of a lass that is gone, say could that lass be I,” Jamie sang softly. “Merry of soul, she sailed on a day, Over the sea to Skye…” He hummed the tune that his mother had sang to him as a bairn, watching as Madeline smiled in her sleep… just as he did.

+++++

As soon as Jamie walked back into their bedroom, Claire asked him if the mail had come.

“I don’t know actually,” he said and slowly walked out backwards. “I’ll check. Don’t move,” he continued as he winked — at least, he tried to wink.

Their mail usually came around the same time every day. Lo’ and behold, when he walked over to the door, their mail was scattered about the floor, near where it’d been pushed through the mail slot. Jamie bent down, groaning a bit at the stiffness of his back.

“Spam,” he mumbled as he looked through the envelopes, hoping to see one from the DNA Centre. “More spam, coupons… a bill.” Sadly, there was nothing from the Centre, even though they’d said two days, and that two days was now today.

“Anything?” Claire asked him when he came to sit down beside her.

“Nope, just bills and spam,” he sighed and placed his hand on her forehead. “Yer no too warm now, but still a bit of a fever left, I reckon.”

“You reckon?” Claire arched her brows, a small smile playing on her lips. “Oh, I want to kiss you…”

“But ye canna.” Jamie looked down at her. “Or do ye want to get me sick too? Who would take care of Mads?”

Claire crossed her arms over her chest, her bottom lip sticking out, and Jamie pulled the blanket up around her to keep her warm. “Don’t tempt me…” he smirked. “Ye, with yer frizzy curly hair and red nose.”

“You love my frizzy hair!” Claire laughed and then started coughing.

“Take it easy.” Jamie rubbed her arm and then laid down next to her. “I do love your frizzy hair. Every messy strand. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “I’ll probably fall asleep, so pick something you like.”

“Hmmm, well, tis Christmas and I ken how much ye like The Holiday.” Jamie picked up the remote, flicking over to Netflix.

“Oh, I do.” Claire smiled up at him. “Maybe I should get sick more often if it’ll make you watch The Holiday with me.”

“This is a one time offer, Sassenach,” Jamie smiled in return and pressed play, sliding his arm around her, holding her close. He looked over at the nightstand to the baby monitor — Madeline was still fast asleep, sucking her thumb.

Just as Jamie predicted, thirty minutes later, Claire was lightly snoring next to him, her mouth open. She looked so peaceful and Jamie didn’t want to disturb her much-needed sleep, so he kept his arm around her and continued watching the movie.

Near the end of the movie, his phone started buzzing and he slipped it out of his pocket.

“Hello?” he said softly, looking over at Claire to check she was still asleep.

“Hey lad, tis me,” Murtagh said. “I just wanted to call and check on things. See how ye and Claire are doing.”

“Well, at this exact moment, Claire is sick with a bit o’ a cold, Madeline is asleep, and I’m stuck watching The Holiday because Claire fell asleep on me,” Jamie chuckled.

“Didn’t ye say ye love that movie?” Murtagh laughed.

“Shhh, of course not,” Jamie looked down at Claire. “I admit, tis one of the better ones, but no… I never said that.”

“Alright, sure,” Murtagh grumbled into the phone. “How are ye really, though?”

Jamie sighed and finally moved his arm from around Claire, easing himself off the bed as he padded across the room and slipped into the bathroom. “I’m okay. I took the paternity test two days ago and we’re supposed to have the results by today, but nothing came in the mail. I shouldn’t let it affect me so much…”

“But, you want to know for sure and ye already thought this business of who is Madeline’s father was behind ye. It’s alright to be upset, Jamie. Yer human,” Murtagh said, reassuring him that what he was feeling was natural. “I’m sure ye’ll get it in the mail tomorrow, and if no’ then, by the end of the week.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I just feel like all my and Claire’s relationship has been about one question: who’s the father,” Jamie sighed. “I want to put this all behind me so we can just focus on being a family.”

“Och, I ken ye do, lad. At least ye ken that Claire will love ye no matter what, and that little girl loves ye, even if she’s a bairn and has no concept of what love is,” Murtagh laughed. “Ye have some of the best lasses, Jamie. Yer parents would have loved them, I’m sure of it.”

The mention of his parents choked him up. He thought of them often, but not as often as he felt he should. Jamie missed them both dearly, and he wished more than anything that they could both be here to meet Claire and Madeline.

“Aye, ye think?”

“I know,” Murtagh said. “Well, it was good to chat. If ye ever need anyone to talk to, I’m always here for ye. For all of ye.”

“Of course, thanks for callin’. I’ll keep ye all updated about the results as soon as we get them in,” Jamie replied. “Talk to ye later.”

Hanging up the phone, he slipped it back into his pocket and walked back into their bedroom to find Claire, her eyes slowly opening.

“Were you on the phone?” she said softly.

“Aye, twas just Murtagh, callin’ to check in.” Jamie smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ye only made it thirty minutes in.”

“I told you,” Claire grinned and then sniffed, reaching for a tissue to blow her nose.

Jamie was about to lay back down beside her when a cry came through the baby monitor.

“That sounds like a wet nappy cry,” Claire said and tried to sit up, but Jamie placed his hand on hers.

“Dinna move, Sassenach. That’s what I’m here for,” he reassured her, and stood up to go to Mads’s room.

“That’s not all you’re here for, Fraser,” she smiled and fell back against the pillows.

As Jamie left to change Madeline’s nappy, Claire rubbed her hands over her eyes. She’d woken when Jamie left the bed to go into the bathroom, so she’d heard most of his conversation on the phone — however, most of it was muffled by the door.

She wanted to put this whole mess behind them too, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for it in the first place. If she’d only used protection…

If she’d only used protection, then she wouldn’t have Madeline. And she loved her daughter more than anything in the world. She made it worth it. All the headaches and heartache that came with their situation — she was the anchor that kept Claire sane.

++++++

By the end of the day, Claire had managed to eat a bit of soup and saltines that Jamie had put together for her. She was slowly feeling better, thanks to rest and Jamie’s good doctoring skills. Doctors often didn’t make the best patients, but she tried her best not to boss him around, instead letting him take care of her.

Jamie finished feeding Madeline and put her in her crib. He then went around the house, turning off lights and checking the locks. As he walked towards the front door, he noticed an envelope that wasn’t there before on the ground.

Picking it up, Jamie found that it had no return address, and that it didn’t even have their address. It was simply addressed to Claire Beauchamp.

He also noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a bit of white sticking out from under the doormat. Something must have slid under when the mail was delivered earlier, as it’d happened more times than he could count.

Jamie picked up the envelope and found that it was a letter from the DNA Centre. So it had been here all day — it’d merely gotten lost. He wanted to open it, but he knew he needed to wait for Claire; and she was fast asleep, a cold cloth pressed to her head.

He was also curious about the mysterious letter addressed to her, something he would also have to wait until morning for. With a deep breath and a prayer to give him patience, Jamie placed both envelopes down on the front table, silently remembering to open them first thing in the morning.

Locking the door, Jamie then walked back upstairs to Claire in their bed. He simply stood at the entrance, watching her sleep, not caring if he looked weird doing it. She was his mo nighean donn — his brown-haired lass. And his mo ruadh bhàn a ghalad, his red-haired girl, asleep in her crib.

Chapter 21: Finally

[19umbrellas]

Villain I appear to be || Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Description: You were the eighth member of the infamous Umbrella Academy. Your adopted father, Reginald Hargreeves, had raised you and your seven other siblings to fight crime and stop evil, however, as you grew older you found yourself straining farther and farther away from the life of a hero your father always wanted you to be.

This will be a One-shot series or something? I don’t really know what it’s called. It’s like, same title and concept but different stories and pairings per chapter. If that makes sense. ùwú

Pairing: Klaus x Reader

Word Count: 3701

ONE-SHOT

"Klaus? What are you doing?" Diego asked, annoyed when Klaus suddenly stopped in front of a wall. He had his hand rubbing his chin as he nodded every now and then like he was in a conversation or something. Diego gave him a look but Luther stopped him before he could get closer to their curly haired sibling. "Wait, he could be talking to one of her victims." he said but Diego wasn't so sure. For all they knew, Klaus could be talking to a dead hooker or something.

An elderly Chinese man stood in front of Klaus, crying and rambling in his own native tongue with a large cut on his throat. Klaus tried his best not to vomit as blood squirted out the gash every time he spoke all the while truing to decipher what he was trying to say. He glanced at Ben, hoping that he might have understood even a little of what the poor soul was saying but he only looked back with shrug, clearly Ben was more confused than he was.

Deciding that his two days of using Duolingo wasn't enough to prepare him for a conversation with an actual native speaker, he silenced the ghost, apologizing in what little Chinese he knew and told him he didn't speak well enough Mandarin to understand a single word he was saying. The ghost nodded sadly then started to dissolve into nothing. Klaus sighed in frustration as he rubbed his forehead and Ben looked at him concerned. "Maybe it's time to call it a day Klaus." the phantom suggested but Klaus shook his head and kept quiet.

"Hey Klaus." Diego called and Klaus turned to them. "Did you get anything?" Luther asked and Klaus shook his head. "I don't speak dumpling." his replied earned the confused and annoyed looks from his brothers. Diego turned around in frustration as he continued to walk down the street, huffing that this was a waste of time. Luther looked at Klaus with pleading eyes, "Klaus, we've been walking for hours. You really haven't found anything on her yet?" Klaus threw his hands in the air. "Sorry, can't help you." Luther nodded disappointingly.

"Let's just keep going." Klaus said as he began to walk but Luther stopped him. "Maybe you should get back to the house for tonight." Luther said and Klaus looked at him up at him with distaste. "Are you benching me?" he asked, feeling offended. Luther just shook his head "This is a very dangerous mission okay?" he said carefully. "This is (y/n) we're talking about. We don't know what she might do and I don't want to put you in any dange-"

"Don't give me that bullshit Luther." Klaus snapped surprising both Ben and Luther. "Look, I know may not have been much help tonight but I know she's here somewhere." her argued. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even know where to start looking. Do you really think you can find her without me?". Seeing Klaus blow up like this was a rare sight. He wasn't exactly the type to get angry, hell, everyone thought he forgot how to be angry after years of putting all kinds of substances in his body. But, even so, Luther stood his ground and refused to let him come any farther. "Fine..." Klaus huffed and turned around. Ben was following behind him, all the while glaring at Luther.

Ben felt bad for Klaus, he really did. Seeing him get all serious like this was a little unnerving if he was being honest. In truth, Ben was the only one who understood how important this mission was to Klaus. He knew how close you two were even after you left the academy you two still made it a point to keep in contact of each other each day. You were one of the few if not the only person Klaus truly cared about other than himself. Which is why Ben understood his brother's devastation when the news of your death circled around the media.

Around a week ago, while Klaus was still in Rehab, he was laughing with the other recovering junkies in the cafeteria with the TV on in the background when he heard the sound of your name being mentioned by the news anchor. He turned his attention to the screen, feeling a bit excited when they mentioned you but he quickly felt his stomach drop when they rolled the gruesome footage.

At first everything was dark. There was a squirming silhouette in the middle of the shot but what it was exactly was unclear. Suddenly a light flashed from the camera and the mysterious shadow was revealed to be you. Your arms and legs bound with a tight knot and a dirty cloth circling around your mouth. Klaus stood up and he watched in horror as another figure entered the shot making you jerk backward as he ran a hand down your chin. Tears were visibly streaming down your face at this point as the man went behind you and grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling out a sharp knife. "No..." Klaus whispered. Your head was shaking as you cried out onto your gag before the man sliced your throat open and blood spurted out. Your killer let your body hit the floor as he made his way to the camera and wiped away the blood on the lense and he smiled. "I love you, (y/n)" he said before slicing open his throat as well and the video ends.

Ben felt sick after watching that, who the hell was that guy. He looked at Klaus, unsure what his reaction might be and prepared for the worst. But, after a moment, Klaus didn't move. He was frozen on the spot, staring at the screen, processing what he have just seen. Now the anchor was back in the shot explaining that the man behind your murder was a deranged stalker who had been following you for quite some time and was said to have a twisted obsession over you. Apparently that video was already a week old but only surfaced a few hours ago when one of the detectives at the police station received an email from a throw away account. The worst part was about this event was, until now, the police still couldn't find your body or any of your remains.

That night, Klaus escaped rehab and fled back to the academy in tears before he stayed up inside your room, trying to conjure your spirit until the sun rose but he was not successful. When morning came, Grace was the first to find him sobbing in your bed. She hadn't even notice him some in last night when he did. She sat next to him and Klaus cried into her shoulder as if he was a child once more. Pogo was watching silently until he retreated to his master's study.

Reginald was staring out the window, newspaper resting on his desk, the headline read: The Siren has been silenced by an obsessed stalker. Her body has yet to be found. Pogo approached him and was about to reach for his plate only to find that Reginald has barely touched his food. He retracted his hand and asked if He needed anything. "Call the sculptor." he said. "We will have a sculpture in number 8-" he coughed, correcting himself "(y/n)'s honor and I want it done by next week." Pogo nodded and exited the room.

As days went by, the siblings slowly came home to the academy to pay their respects to their fallen sister and stay for a week for the funeral. First to arrive was obviously Klaus. The next day it was, Luther and Vanya. Diego showed up two days later. And finally, Allison. The siblings grieved together in the living room as they shared stories about you with Grace and Pogo as they all laughed and reminisced in your memory.

At the time of the funeral, the family gathered at the backyard, in front of your statue that stood next to Ben's. Everyone said a few words and a few prayers before they all retreated back inside one by one when it started to rain. Klaus was the last one outside, his hair and clothes were already drenched as he tried, once again, to call you back from your grave. He fell to his knees when nothing happened. Ben was leaning on his own statue as painfully watched his brother lose the person he loved the most.

As Klaus sobbed under the rain, Luther suddenly burst out the door and told him to get inside. He needed to see this. He was dripping on the floor as he ran inside with Luther leaving a long trail of water and mud from the backyard. Klaus went over to Allison who showed him a video titled, The Siren lives again on her phone. In the video there was a floating (height), (h/c), (s/c) girl singing in the docks as five men followed her to the edge. At first the cameraman was in awe at the sight, telling the viewers how cool this was but when they all jumped into the cold deep blue he quickly put down his phone and ran over to their aid. In the description it said that many tried to rescue them, pulling them above water level, but the men all fought them off and eventually drowned with smiles on their faces.

Everyone looked at Klaus as he ran a hand through his hair. Now he understood why he couldn't conjure you, your soul has been corrupted with hate and fear, so much so that it has twisted the sweet girl you once were into this horrific monster who's only instinct is to kill. Klaus had met many spirits similar to you, ghosts who desire revenge and haunt the people who had wronged them, but he never had the guts to actually face them and most of the time he just ignore them. There was something about you, however, that didn't feel right to him. You seemed far more sinister than the previous ghosts mentioned. He saw it himself, you used your powers to lead those men into their watery graves. He had never seen a spirit cause an end of a mortal life, until now.

"We have to stop her." Luther said, breaking the silence. "Before she kills anyone else." Allison looked up at him, "How exactly do we fight a ghost? I don't think we're well equipped for a mission like this." she glanced down at her phone before putting it back in her pocket. "Maybe we should focus on finding her, yeah? She could be anywhere." Diego said, obviously. The three discussed an action plan but eventually argued amongst themselves. Vanya looked at them worriedly while Klaus was quietly talking to Ben.

"Why don't we try talking to her first?" Vanya suggested quietly. The three ceased their yelling and Diego looked at Vanya. "Oh, yeah, totally, in fact, I think we should throw a tea party, y'know, to make it more fun?" Diego sneered sarcastically. "We can talk about movies, bo-"  Allison had heard enough and nudged Diego on his side, hard, making him shut up as she glared at him. "What do you mean Vanya?" she asked more gently as she looked at the other remaining girl in their family. "I just thought that, since Klaus, can talk to the dead, maybe he could try summoning her so we could try to calm her down?" Vanya was a little unsure of her words but it actually gave them an idea. "You're going to invite an evil spirit into our house?" Diego asked sharply. It was Klaus' turn to glare. "She's not just an evil spirit, Diego. She's still our sister if that even means anything to you." he snarled.

"Klaus is right." Allison said, she never thought she would live to see the day she actually agreed with Klaus. Luther nodded and looked at Klaus "Can you really conjure her?" he asked and Klaus bit his tongue before he nodded. He decided to not tell them about his past failed attempts and just really go all out on his third attempt. After all, he has never been this sober since he was a teenager.

Later, Klaus went around the academy, looking for objects that you might hold a significance to. He gathered everything in your room, making a small shrine on your vanity mirror and lit eight of your favorite scented candles. Each one of the siblings gave Klaus at least one item you had given them and waited outside the door as they watch Klaus kneel before the (y/n) shrine. The first hour there was nothing. Klaus was still on his knees, eyes closed as he tried to concentrate. The rest of the siblings decided to take turns to keep an eye on Klaus and right now Allison was just pacing back and forth in the hallway. When she heard Klaus speak finally she rushed towards the door only for it to slam in her face. She tried to turn the knob but it wouldn't budge. She frantically banged on the door as she called out to Luther and the others. Him and Diego showed up mere seconds later and they both rammed on the door but it was stronger than they expected. What is this door made off?" Diego exclaimed. Luther tried kicking the door open but it didn't even leave a scratch.

Their father had heard the commotion and went to his three panicked children. "Step away from the door." he ordered calmly. "Klaus is still in there!" Allison said but Reginald didn't flinch. "Are you questioning my authority Number 3?" he asked, making Allison step back. "Dad, we have to do something, (y/n) might hurt Klaus." Luther tried to reason with him, explaining their plan and how you came back as an angry ghost, but Reginald just shook his head. "Your brother is handling this. There's no need to worry." he said as he turned around. "I don't think we're talking about the same Klaus here, Dad." Diego said and Reginald glanced back at them.

"You're brother is much more capable than you think Number 2. If you think Number 8 will hurt her family even in death then perhaps you don't know her as well as you thought." he said before walking away. The three looked at each other before hesitantly going back to the living room where Vanya was waiting. The when the sun rose Vanya was the first one awake. She went up to their corridor where their rooms were and knocked on your door. "Klaus? Are you okay?" she asked before opening the door with ease and peaked inside. The first thing she saw was Klaus scrawled on your bed, sleeping peaceful with your (f/c) blanket wrapped around his body. Then Vanya looked at the wall and her eyes widened.

"Oak Street." was written in big red letters, almost covering the entire wall. Vanya ran down and woke up Allison who quickly went to investigate. She studied the letters, swapping a sample of it on her finger. "This is lipstick." she said in relief and then brought it closer to her nose. "(f/flavor). This was (y/n)'s lipstick."

Once everyone had awakened, they all questioned Klaus about what had happened but he said he couldn't remember. That afternoon, the three boys all went to Oak Street in search of you. Klaus had to talk to a lot of ghosts, many of them were your recent victims, asking where you were but sooner or later he ran into a dead end.

That leads us back to now. Klaus was walking home in defeat and when he reached his room he just plopped face down into the sheets. Ben was just standing in by the window and looked down at the empty street below. They both said nothing for the longest time until Klaus sighed and walked out the room, saying that he was going to take a soak in the tub. Ben didn't move but he heard what he said.

Klaus stripped his clothes and went inside the warm water of the old tub. He grabbed the headphones he brought with him and plugged it into a cassette player and started listening to music. He swayed in the water, splishing and splashing as his hands smacked the surface as if it was a drum. Klaus had his eyes closed the entire time and he didn't see the shadow manifesting itself withing the water in front of him. A hand reached out, slowly at first but whenit grabbed his wrist it quickly pulled him down into the deep.

Klaus shot up and gasped for air as he crawled out of a puddle. He found a (f/c) blanket near him and decided to wrap it around his waste before anyone saw him being indecent. Speaking of ,where was he? He looked at the metal roof that was basically falling apart as well as the building's rusty interior. He came to a conclusion that he was in an old, no-longer functional warehouse and from the sound of waves and hawking sea gulls outside he had guessed it was the old docks just outside the city.

"Klaus." A voice suddenly came from behind him. he whipped around and saw you. "(y/n), oh my god, is that really you?" he asked as he approached you. You seemed different from the you he saw from the video. The sinister atmosphere you showed was no longer there. Instead he only saw you. He swiped his hand on your face but instead of it just passing through, like he had expected, his hand lightly slapped your cold cheek. He jumped backwards at the sensation. You smiled at him. "Surprised?" you asked and he stuttered out, "Are you... Not dead?". You laughed at this and shook your head. "Oh... I'm very much dead Klaus." you said solemnly.

"How..." Klaus was confused but you just shrugged. "You're the one who can talk to ghosts. You tell me." you kept your smile on your face but it quickly fell when you looked down. "Klaus, I... I need your help." you admitted and he nodded. "What is it?"

You paused for second before you spoke. "I'm pretty sure you already know what I've been doing recently, huh?" you asked. Klaus thought back to the video of you luring people to their deaths and he nodded. "... Why did you do it?" he asked and you looked him in the eye sadly.

"I..." you tried to explain but it took you a minute to find your words. "When I... Came back I didn't know what was going on. Everything was dark and cold and I felt nothing but pain." you started to shake. "For the longest time, that was all I felt... I was alone... Until I heard your voice. You were calling out to me and I followed your voice until I saw the light. I was standing right in front of the academy. I was about to go in but then I heard the news from a radio of a car parked outside. They said I was murdered and I thought, that can't be right. I'm standing right here. That was when I started to remember." As you went deeper into your tale you started to feel angry, your hair began to float, your eyes slowly became black, and your feet were hovering above the ground. "I felt.... I felt so Angry when I remembered what had happened to me. I was consumed with hate and I wanted to make the man who did this to me suffer. I want to make everyone suffer."

Klaus was silent, he grabbed your wrist and making you look down at him. You started to calm down after looking into his hazel hues and he pulled you into his arms. He stroked your head, "You don't have to do this (y/n). I know what happened to you wasn't fair and I can't even imagine what you're going through right now but I know you. You're a kind person. Possibly, the sweetest person I've ever met and that's why I love you. Please don't let the only woman I love die too."

His words made you tear up as you cried into his chest. He tightened his grip around you as he kissed your forehead. You repeatedly mumbled "I'm sorry..." through tears. He whispered, "It's going to be okay." the two of you stayed like that for a few minutes before you started to calm down. Klaus pulled away slightly and placed his hands on the sides of your face and wiped away your tears with his thumb. He leaned down a little bit and stopped when his lips brushed yours. You closed the gap between you two and you both closed your eyes into the sweet kiss. When you finished you pressed your forehead on his and looked into his eyes. "I love you too." you whispered softly and pecked him one last time before stepping back. "Call me?" you said with a chuckle as you wiped your wet face. Suddenly a been of light shined through the broken roof and you were carried up onto it. You looked at Klaus ones last time before you disappeared with a poof.

Klaus smiled, feeling a huge weight leave his shoulders and he turned around to the exit. But before he could move he noticed a door at the corner of his eye. Something was telling him that he should go check it out and that's what he did. When he opened the room he your dead body lying on the ground with a clean white pillow supporting your head. The wound on your neck was stitched and your body looked clean as you wore the same dress you wore earlier. Candles and flowers surrounded your body and a bouquet of (f/flower) was placed under your hands. He smiled at how peaceful you looked before going out to find a telephone booth to tell the family of his discovery.

AN:

So, here's Klaus! Might do Allison or Vanya next idk haha. Hope you all enjoyed this one. This is like twice as long as the Diego one haha. I just got really carried away Huhu. If you guys have any suggestions or criticism you want to share please tell me in the comments so I can make better stories in the future.

Hope you all enjoyed and see you lovelies in the next one. uwu