#how did my son bring home a cold in august?!?!? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ajaviary · 3 years ago

Text

Feeding the Wolves

Summary: When Shota’s daughter goes missing, there is nothing he won’t do, no lines he won't cross to find her. Making a deal with a God to bring her back to him, is a small price to pay. Little does he realize how his life will change, how everything will.

For the BNHarem Mythology/Folklore August 2021 Event. The Masterlist is here, check out the others who participated in this Event too!

Sorry it was late this month @imaginexmeintheuniverse

Rating: Dark Content w/Fluff (Violence, Death, Love, Non Canon) - Anyone can read.

Character: Jiro Kyoka/Hecate / Shota Aizawa x Reader / Eri / Kota / Hades

Word Count: 8314

A/N: This one is probably the more emotional/Angsty pieces I've written so far...so be prepared! I've made several people cry, so I must be doing something right! Enjoy everyone!

—————————

A single clawed finger rested on her small, slim shoulder and bright silver eyes lifted to glance toward the towering form of her father, this is what it was like to be the daughter of a god, to be an immortal child as she grew slowly, her powers growing as she matured and would eventually be strong enough for her to be called a god in her own right. She knew her power would not match the other children, it had been the not so nice, not so secret whispered among the other gods; her mother’s friends because of who her father was.

“Yes father?”

Her dark lavender hair was down along her knees and left to hang freely along her pale skin, the night and the moonlit nights filled with twinkling stars were where you felt most at home. The forest and it’s creatures were of no concern to her, because her father was the Lord and Master of this forest and all who dwelled within.

“Hecate, come with me Lakota wishes to bestow a gift to my favorite little one,” he told her and stepped forward his body towered over the forest and he was careful where he stepped, before he shrank his body with ever step to that of the size of a mortal man and he was soon walking through the forest, the trees now towering over them as he could hear his little girl racing through the forest to keep up with him. She was easily able to reach him.

Eventually their walk through the forest brought them to a moonlit clearing, she paused a frown on her young features as when she did catch up with him, he was standing to the side and in the middle of the cleaning were two adult wolves with a young cub between them. Her gaze was drawn to the cub, but she didn’t go closer to it.

Lakota was the Alpha of the wolves, granted the ability to speak by her father. He shifted and nudged his cub forward with his nose and gestured toward her. The small black bundle rose on his little legs and twisted his golden gaze toward her.

He approached her, his little legs taking him toward her. She was watchful as he came closer, his midnight black fur seemed to be sprinkled with stars. He sniffed her hand and gave it a lick. “What’s his name Lakota?” she asked the larger Alpha wolf.

“Batair, consider him a gift. Young Hecate, he will guard you well into your immortal life.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely as she inclined her head to them before she lifted the black Wolf pup into her arms. He would grow with her, her powers giving him as close to an immortal life as she could give him.

With those words hanging between them the Mighty Lakota and his mate bowed, before they slipped back into the forest. Disappearing into the darkness of the forest leaving their son in her care for the rest of his equally immortal life for he would forever be her guard, as would many others to come.

|~|

Worn calloused fingers pressed against tired red-rimmed dark eyes. The man leaned against the grey granite island, his elbows pressed to the cold stone as he closed his eyes. Replaying the conversation on loop in his head as he recalled speaking with the detectives.

He’d called them when his little girl hadn’t gotten home from school. When he’d stopped one of the neighbors boys who always walked her home from the bus stop. “She wasn’t on the bus today, I thought you picked her up, ” Kota frowned, his hands balled into fists at his side.

“I’m sure she’s fine, she probably missed the bus.”

The words sounded hollow, and ash filled even to his ears as his heart pounded in his chest as he knew the dread that had been settling in his chest was because something was wrong, horribly wrong. His instincts had been telling him all day something was wrong.

“Everything will be fine, let me handle this. Get home safe.” He forced a small smile and turned away, his phone to his ear as he called the school, his legs taking him at a run to his car parked a few houses down from the bus stop.

His little one was getting older and thus it was why he’d allowed her to walk home from the bus stop, with his schedule he was able to finagle a few things and usually work from home.

He was trying to not be that hovering parent, that overprotective parent who didn’t let their child do anything without them. He didn’t want to be that guy. He already got weird looks given the fact that he was a single father, to a little girl that didn’t look anything like him.

Truth be told, his little girl wasn't blood related to him, he was her father in every sense of the word, but she was the only thing that let him keep a piece of you with him. Shota had met you after you had left your ex boyfriend, the guy was a dangerous man and it was just shortly after you had met and started dating that you found out you were pregnant. The baby was obviously his, but Shota didn’t care. He loved you and that was enough for him and then when Eri was born, he realized what it meant to love someone other than you so unconditionally.

Eri was his little girl, and he claimed her as his own. It was his name on her birth certificate, she carried his last name. His little family was complete, so full of life and happiness, it was only six months ago that you had passed away. He hadn’t just lost you, but the baby you carried as well.

Your death had been incredibly hard, but he hunkered down, he got through it because he had to care of his daughter, of your daughter she needed him. He couldn’t get lost in his own despair, but some days, some days it was just hard!

It was in those desperate moments of his despair, when the school couldn't find Eri, when the school camera caught her walking hand in hand with a man with short brown hair and a hoodie. The police had been called, the detectives notified and they said they were looking into it.

Shota told them about Eri’s biological father Kai Chisaki, he told them about you, about how you had died, how he knew Kai had been involved. He knew the Yazuka were behind your kidnapping on the way to your car that night, he knew when they found your horribly mutilated body days later that he was behind it all. Vengeance had burned in his heart and it had nearly destroyed him, his grief had nearly lost him his daughter and he had to make a choice and he made the only choice a father who loves his little girl could make. He chose her and he let the man who murdered you fade back into the shadows as he walked back into the light of the living.

He found himself praying, praying for the first time since he lost you, that someone, anyone would save his little girl.

The sound of the click of the knob on his front door had him moving from the kitchen to the living room. He’d locked the door, he knew he did. It was an ingrained habit; when one had children, you always lock the door, the windows, whatever you can to ensure they are safe.

He balled his hands at his side as a young woman stood in his living room, shrouded in darkness.

“I don’t know who you are, but you need to get the fuck out!” he demanded his hands balled at his side, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Did you not—,” she paused, her lips spreading wide and her canines exposed, as she tapped a black fingernail against her chin as she tilted her head to the side, the moment chilling as her eyes never blinked as she stared him down. “Three minutes and twenty six seconds ago pray to the gods, any god to help find your little girl?”

His silence as his hands fisted at his side, tightening as he readied himself for a fight.

“If you didn’t I suppose I have the wrong house, but we both know that’s a lie. Don’t we Daddy dearest?”

The black haired man pressed his lips together, not convinced that this wasn’t a hoax, some sort of distraction tactic, by the Yakuza clan. “I’ll ask again, who are you?!” His hair lifted along his neck to stand above his head, his eyes glowed red as he took a menacing step forward.

The menacing growls of multiple dogs could be heard, as yips and snarls drowned out any hopes of a conversation.

“Calm down my loves, ” she cooed softly, her fingers reaching down as the darkness that floated along her feet and half way up her legs, seemed to gather movement and shape. There was a large black dog standing at her side, his fur on end, his eyes full of dark magic. Her fingers threaded through his fur.

He watched the creatures calm at her words, and wouldn't have believed the shadows were living and breathing if he hadn't seen it for himself. He had seen in those shadows several pairs of bright glowing eyes and the glint of teeth as jaws parted all in defense of their master.

“I’d hate to risk your daughter's safety, her life -- all because of your pride Mr. Aizawa,”

Shota felt his lips press into a thin line at her words. His hands only tightened into fists at his side. He wouldn’t let his pride get in the way of his daughter's life. He regarded for another moment studying her, weighing in his mind if this could possibly be true, could all of this be true. Could a god really be standing in his home bargaining for his daughters safety. It sounded so asinine, so ridiculous that he couldn’t for a moment even believe it to be true. It was true though, he’d seen it with his own eyes, he’d felt the heated breath along his fingers as mouths had opened to devour a few of his fingers. Only called off by the melodic command of their master.

“I can help you, I can find your little Eri alive and well...but for a price. It isn’t much I promise. I’m not as bad as the other gods.” As she told him this, her smile widened, as though she were telling him a great little secret.

“Name your price?” he demanded without a moment's hesitation.

“Every year on this day…until your daughter turns eighteen. I want an offering, a life for a life you see. I will keep your daughter safe until she is no longer a child. All you have to do is give a new companion every year.”

Aizawa frowned as he listened to her. “A new companion, like a —“ he trailed off his gaze flickering toward the shadows at her feet, now that he looked a little further they all looked like shadow dogs of various sizes and shapes. He let his gaze dart back toward her face, what he could see through the shadows, which wasn’t much, but she was feminine and pretty in a youthful way. Could she mean a sexual companion, the mere thought turned his stomach.

“A dog, yes. A canine Mr. Aizawa.” She told him, her lips pulled down in a frown, the disgust in her tone evident, it was clear she found what he had been thinking to be just as disgusting as he did. Thank the Gods. “They are far more reliable than people, gods or lovers. Any dog will do, if it makes you feel better your little one can pick it out. One who needs a good home, age isn’t an issue.” She assured him watching as he took a moment to consider her words, it was clear by his expression he’d been expecting a far steeper price.

Had anyone else answered he would have had just that, probably his own life in exchange. That just wouldn’t do, no the little girl he was desperate to search for needed her father. This man standing before her, they may not be blood bound, but they were bound by far greater ties — love.

Love at its purest form was strong, so strong it would be what led her to his little girl.

“I agree to your terms. What do you need to find my daughter?” The Pro Hero asked her.

Hecate grinned at him, the smile malicious and violent as she was suddenly in front of him, her hand pressing over his rapidly beating, bleeding heart. “Nothing you can personally give me Eraser Head, but hold still. You’ll feel a slight tug but it’s alright I promise.”

Her nails dug into the area above his heart and whispered words in a language he didn’t know filled his ears, one thing he was sure of was it was dark, ancient magic that was burrowing into his heart. The heat and the pain were enough to bring him to his knees. His vision blackened along the edges and took on a hazy film. As he collapsed on his side. His black eyes look up at the young woman standing over him, her silver eyes glowing, her features far from human and the shadows around her we're ravenous. Growling, and snapping at what she held in her hands. It glowed a brilliant gold, in the darkness that had overtaken his house in his own despair.

He watched her clasped hands drop among the horde of shadowed beasts. “Take a good whiff my loves. Find the one we seek. Our prey shall not escape, for our hunt has begun.”

As the Hounds, as the mighty Beasts took shape and form, they disappeared through the walls of his home into the darkness of the night.

As the creatures left he was surprised to see the Goddess of night and magic crouched before him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, the motion gentle, almost motherly. “I swear to you mighty hero, your daughter will be fine. When you wake next she will be safely in your arms alive and well.” Her promised words shouldn’t have soothed the ache in his heart, but he found himself trusting her, believing her...and for the first time since you had left him, she gave him hope.

She lifted him to the couch with nothing more than her magic and before she left, she provided him with another small truth. “Know that she waits for you, she will welcome you and her daughter with open arms. Her form may be different, but her life was cut short before it’s time. I have spoken with Hades. It does not fix the mistakes…but it is the best we can do. I hope your paths may cross again in this life.”

The last thing he saw as darkness overtook him was glowing golden eyes that had last all shred of the humanity that had beheld the silver.

Hecate let her human form fall away, revealing her goddess form, this form kept most of her human features, but her fangs were more pronounced and her eyes were a brilliant gold. Her powers over the night and the shadows gave her form a darker look. A far more menacing look, as pointed claws adorned her hands. She leapt into the sky easily traveling the stars as she followed the beacon in her cupped hands.

The thrill of the hunt curled around her, echoing ten fold between her and each of her companions. It was crude to take a fathers love, but it was truly what tied him to his little girl and in some ways the bands twisted forking in another direction, they were fainter and not as bright or as strong the rope was faded and weathered...but that happened when someone died, the love never died, not truly, but usually the ties lead to the underworld, but yours forked in another direction because of the second change gifted by the Lord of the Underworld. It wasn’t truly his fault that he didn’t know you had been reborn, your body allowed another chance at the life you lost after it was so savagely cut short.

She might take a peek in that direction once this was all over, but it wasn’t likely. She didn’t intermingle in the affairs of mortals, least of all someone's love life, that wasn’t any of her business. For some reason she found that you had struck a chord within her immortal heart. There was something so sad about the house she’d been in, it was as though the light had been missing for sometime, grief and despair clung to the walls. Perhaps she did feel sorry for you both. Curse you humans for reminding this immortal of what it was like to be something she would never be, not truly a part of your world.

That didn’t mean that she didn’t feel something, she could be empathic, occasionally.

The base of operation was almost too easy to locate, a house nestled in an urban community complete with happy families. She knew that despite the quant look to the outside that this home held dark, dirty secrets. Secrets that smelled of terror and blood, not all of it was old. Her feet touched the top of the gate as she surveyed the courtyard below and the door that was held beyond it. All was quiet, but that was partially her doing, she had placed a barrier around the home, an illusion of sorts that allowed what would transpire this night to be hidden from the preying, noisy eyes of the quirk filled mortals.

She pierced the flesh of her thumb with her canines and let her blood be the sole activator for her barrier, none would be able to break it, mortals would shy away. Gods, Gods tended to be noisy when one was so freely weaving themselves among the mundane. Some more so than others, one in particular was bound to notice. She frowned at that thought, but pushed it away as she landed on silent feet in the middle of the court yard and made her way to the door and what lay beyond the door. Somewhere in the house was little Eri, the little girl that she would find.

Her fingers pressed against the door, she grinned to herself as she found it locked and pressed with just a little more force and the doors exploded inward and as her wolves, her beasts, of eons passed crowded at the door, whining and begging to be given the command to hunt. “Only those tainted with the blood of innocents,” she told them as she changed her tone into the ancient language of the Gods.

“Feast on the Hearts of the Tainted, Let no death be swift.”

With howls to the night sky and the crescent moon that watched over their hunt as it had begun.

Hecate closed her eyes as she lingered at the doorway for a moment before she opened her golden eyes and followed the golden thread that she held firmly and safely in her hand. Nothing would happen to the love entrusted to her, that she was borrowing to find his little girl. She didn’t need to break the house, to get to the lower levels, so all she had to do was shadow walk, something that was truly childs play to one as powerful as her.

She followed through the twists and turns of the underground passage and it was done in such a way that she had to begrudgingly say that she was actually impressed by this level of thought. The echoes of the dying lingered in these dark pathways, souls forever trapped in these deprecated areas, lost in their way to finding true peace in the afterlife, that they were not given in their lives as they should have. She vowed to deal with those as well, but first...first there was another sound, a faint sound of crying, the sounds feminine and child-like caused the Goddess of the Night and Dark Magic to quicken her steps.

“You belong to me Eri!” Harsh words spit from a man full of rage as he jerks the little girl up by her arm. His grip was strong enough to make her cry out, her red eyes filled with tears as they fell down her cheeks as she raised her gaze to clash with her abuser. She’d never seen him before, she didn’t know who he was. She’d only gone with him because he’d threatened her with her dad’s life. He told her how he had someone outside the house just waiting to hurt him. That he’d take him away from her just like he’d taken her mother.

“I wanna go home,” she whispered.

“You can if you do as I ask, all I want is that power of yours.” he told her seriously as he threw her to the ground the moment she’d started to fight him again, so lost in his rambling that he didn’t realize her fall had been stopped, that it had never came. “I already salvaged what I needed from your mother, but I need the other half. You’re the missing link Eri, who would have thought that useless bitch would create something like you!” He grinned behind his mask, his gloved hands dragging back through his hair as he turned to look upon the little girl's crumpled form.

“Wha-” he started but his words were never finished, as his gaze tracked to the small girl riding astride the back of a giant black furred beast, as the wolf circled away from him, his lips exposing sharp teeth, a growl vibrating his whole body as he moved toward the stairs, intent on taking the young girl away from here. Hecate placed a hand on the giant wolf's flank and he stilled, his gaze never leaving Kai Chisaki. “Hi sweetie, my friends and I are going to take you home to your Daddy, he’s been so worried about you, he called on me to help find you. So my friend here, he’s named Baitar, he’s going to take you right home. How does that sound?” She let her inhuman form be masked by chin length dark purple hair and silver eyes. “My names Jiro, you can give this card to your daddy and I’ll be along shortly,” she promised her.

Eri could only truly process the words home and daddy and that was all she needed to know as her fingers curled tighter into the fur of the wolf as he moved away from the scene altogether, he carried her up the stairs and away. “You can’t just take her!” Overhaul shouted as he made a move motion with his hand and a flood of fangs descended upon him the moment he had made a move. Sharp teeth dug into flesh and bone and ripped it away from the muscles and tendons. He screamed out in agony as he dropped to his knees at the shredded managed mess of his arm, a finger was discarded on the floor in its own blood. “Ah but I can Mr. Chisaki,” Hecate promised him with a wide smile and her eyes flaring with her dark powers. “You see I’m out of your league and my Hounds -” she waved her hands, her arms wide as her pack of shadow dogs filled the space between them. “-- are hungry.” Do you know what they eat?” she asked him with a smile full of malice.

The man curled his fingers around his injured hand and activated his quirk re-replicating his lost finger, he chuckled at her from behind his mask. “You’ve got quite the quirk, perhaps we can make a deal?” He suggested, his eyes raking over her form, but it wasn’t in a suggestive way, no he was committing her to memory. He had a plan, one she had interfered with...getting involved was her first mistake.

He frowned when she ignored his offer and instead kept talking as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

“They feast on the tainted hearts of mortals. It’s cleansing for you truly, it’s almost like being in Hell only you aren’t dead yet. Consider it a penance of sorts for all your crimes. The ones you committed throughout your life. You cut short so many innocent lives, it’s only fair you feel their pain don’t you think?”

His boisterous laughter echoed across the room as he threw his head back, his hands on his knees, this was so outrageous he just couldn’t believe what was happening. It had been so long since he’d ran into someone with such atrocious ideals. How interesting to see someone who thought themselves a God. He was going to enjoy taking her out at the knees. He might even relieve some of the anger and the stress she’d put him through before he got rid of her. The thought of her on her hands and knees before him was a tempting reward in itself.

“You mortals disgust me,” Jiro muttered with a frown as she snapped her fingers and two of the larger dogs stepped forward and began to circle him as though he were in fact the prey instead of the predator he believed himself to be.

“Is that the best you can do?” he wondered as he removed his gloves as he watched the ravenous beasts growl and snap at him, but so far their paces hadn’t yet increased and they had made no move to lung for him. “No, but I didn’t want to be rude and not give you a fighting chance,” she told him as she rocked back on her heels and watched her Hounds begin to move closer after she’d given them the go ahead with a subtle shift in her body language.

The beasts lunged then, large mouths open wide and he shoved his hands outward, expecting to be able to obliterate them the dogs, but no his hands passed right through them as though they had no corporal form at all. He knew they did, he’d seen it with the larger one before. He snarled behind his mask as teeth clamped on his arms and pulled against the flesh on his arms leaving long, jagged strips of flesh to hang from the still attached bone as he screamed unable to help himself at the pain.

He sagged to his knees as the dogs retreated only so far as she came back over to him, her fingers tipping his chin upward to stare into his eyes. “Tell me something, why did you kill her?” she wondered. “Kill who?” he asked with a small smirk, but he knew, he knew who she was talking about.

“(Y/N) (Y/LN)”

Overhaul grinned behind his mask. “Curious are you?” he asked as he tipped his head back further and let his eyes gaze into her own, like hard diamonds even with blood seeping into his clothes. “She outlived her usefulness, but my little girl is special. I was surprised (Y/N) was able to do something right for a chan-”

The mask that covered his face shattered on the right side and fell away leaving him with nothing to truly protect himself. Hecate was usually far more in control, usually leaving the truly violent tendencies to her Hounds. She prided herself on being above impulsive behaviors, but she couldn’t help herself. She rubbed at her hand, out of habit, it hadn’t actually hurt. Being a Goddess came with it’s pros and cons. “You sick, vile creature. I’ve let you linger on this Earth for far too long, your time has come.”

His eyes were murderous as he regarded her with such hatred, how dare she! She was nothing special, a tiny bug to be put down! How dare she destroy everything he’d worked so hard for, take away what was rightfully his. Now he’d have to go through other means to take Eri back. Who the hell did she think she was! No woman could stand up to him! No one, especially not her! “You Bitch!” he snarled as he tried to swing at her. She stepped back as one of her dogs wrenched his shoulder back as it lunged, jerking his whole body on its side with it’s massive strength. “It’s time to feast!” she called and turned away as her hounds piled on him and tore into his flesh, slowly eating away every lingering scrap of taint from his form. There was nothing left but the stain of his blood.

|~~~~|

A black clawed hand ripped open the fabric of the mortal realm, soon stepping through the portal he made to stand before the large asian styled home. To the mere mortal, it looked as though it were nothing special; to a magical being, to a God, such as himself; he could see the magic barrier that shimmered in front of the home. The man frowned as he passed through the barrier.

It didn't shatter, it didn't flicker, no the magic parted without disruption. A sign that she had been expecting him. Slowly he moved through the courtyard, toward the doors that had been shoved inward.

What are you getting into now?

The man with messy black hair and red eyes couldn’t help but wonder as he too ventured past the doors and into the home, not having to search far to get to what was housed underneath, the tunnels underneath were infuriating and he found that he had been walking for quite some time, but that was more because his own curiosity had gotten the better of him, but eventually the God of the Underworld got angry and finally after silently admitting defeat followed the black small dog that had been trotting a ways behind him the moment he’d ventured into the sublevels.

He crossed his arms over his chest and smoothly began to follow the dog as though he’d been going in this direction the whole time. He was led to the open room and not surprised to see that the Hounds of Shadow were feasting, crunching on bones and other pieces of the ugliness of humans and Gods alike. He was pleased he was in fact immortal and not bad enough to be on the radar of her dogs.

He let his gaze sweep over the creatures, doing his own internal counting, assessing any injuries the dogs may have, but all were fine, something he was thankful for, he knew how important those dogs were to her, they were basically her children. He was also looking for her and when he didn’t find her. He searched for her through the bond they shared and while he could tell she wasn’t here, there was nothing in the link that spelled any injury for her, she was healthy, strong and alert. He could feel the faint curiosity that brushed along her mind, before she slammed the link shut, still clearly upset with him. He sighed, rubbed at his forehead and took a seat as he debated his next course of action as he rested his arms on his knees. “Guess she’s still grieving,” he muttered to himself and the blood covered savages lounging without a care in the world.

|~~~|

Jiro lingered above Shota Aizawa’s sleeping form and for a moment she watched him breath, his chest rising and falling. It was fascinating in a mortal scense because usually once someone died, that was it. Your time was up and it allowed them to appreciate life a little more, the Gods didn’t truly appreciate the lives of others, of those they considered beneath them. It was partially why she did what she did. She wanted to stay in some way connected and it helped to remind her somewhat of what it was like to be needed, to be important...besides there was something amazing about helping something so innocent, so tiny...so breakable. For a moment her fingers brushed over her flat stomach, before she let her gaze drift back to what she held in her hand, as though she were brushing away the thought that lingered. A dangerous thought for a god to harber such desires...such wants.

The golden threads of the orb she held in her hand curled around her hand, burning her for a moment igniting up welts that weeped icor. She smirked slightly, welcoming the pain it caused and appreciating what else this turn of events told. It was another sign his love was true, it was genuine and protective. Not all love was like that, not all love was unconditional… When she found other emotions in the place of where love should be, when a home wasn’t fit for a child, she would take the child with her, often gifting them to Artemis to join her Huntress’s of the Night...with help of course to ensure their survival, other times if it was possible, she would rehome them to other humans who would treat them as their own, as they should have been treated in the first place.

“Your love is fierce oh Mighty Warrior,” she praised him, as she moved closer to him, before her hands pressed above his heart and another ancient prayer fell from her lips as the golden orb sank into the beating fibers of his heart, back where it belonged.

She stepped back as he began to stir and she faded into the shadows back to join that little girl on her venture home as Eri traveled with her most loyal and life long companion. She was safe with him, a soft spot had always been children with Baitar.

|~~~~|

Aizawa woke with a start, his whole body jerking up as he pressed his back against the armrest of the couch, his whole body a shaking mess as he pressed his hand over his face to hide the tears that leaked from his eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep, how could he have allowed himself to do such a thing?! His little girl needed him and he’d fallen a fucking sleep. He pressed his feet to the floor as he stood up.

He had dreamed of you, for what felt like the first time in a while where he wasn’t remembering your lifeless, mutilated body that he’d demanded to see at the morgue. He’d refused to have anyone with him, he’d forced Hizashi to wait outside. No one would see you like that. He wouldn’t allow it.

He hadn’t cried when he’d seen you lying there on that cold metal table with a thin white sheet draped over your naked body, which was covered from the neck down. For a moment he stood there frozen, unable to comprehend what he saw. He’d known something was wrong, he’d known when you hadn’t called him on the way home. He was on patrol, so you’d sent him a text saying you were on your way to your car. He didn’t mind the minute by minute updates from you. It let him know you were off work, and that you were safe. Your safety was all he cared about. His fingers brushed along your cheek, the one less sunken in from a broken fracture. You broken cheek wasn’t the only injury you had suffered at the hands of this monster, this man who had terrorized you for so long. How long had he tortured you? How long had you fought him, fighting for your life and he hadn’t been there to protect you?

His rage consumed him, he saw red and he clenched his hands at his side as they trembled with his anger.

Shota was moving before he could comprehend his own movements as he dragged the sheet down and then ripped it to the side letting it fall to the tiled floor. He was dressed in his Hero attire, his goggles back on his head, his hands tight as though there was someone in the room he had to fight, he had to take out to bring you back to him. He saw the bruising that told him how many times Kai had hit you and where, he saw the slashes in your skin, the strange scars that told him you had been hurt and put back together only to be hurt again. How many times have you been unable to defend yourself? His fingers brushed along the wounds on your wrists, noting how you had been bound so tightly at one point in your capture.

He opened his mouth to speak and no sounds had come out, he wanted so desperately to curl you against his body to protect you, to make your heart start beating again...but he knew. He knew it was too late. That there was nothing he could do for you. You’d been missing for days. He’d never stopped looking for you, but no one could find you. He couldn’t find you. He had failed you. His fingers curled around your cold, lifeless fingers and he dropped to his knees as reality came crashing in around him.

Shota didn’t scream out his anguish, his sorrow, no - he did something else he whispered in a low broken voice how sorry he was, how he had failed you, failed to protect you and perhaps that was worse as he told you how much he loved you, his fingers clutched so tightly along your fingers as the first tears fell down his cheeks.

Tonight wasn’t a dream of how you died, but it was another warmer memory of how he’d woken to you curled against his side, your head resting on his chest, as you played with his hair as he slept, slowly rousing him to the waking world. He missed those mornings, those soft moments where it was just the two of you. “Hey Sleepy Head,” You murmured softly as you kissed the underside of his chin and he’d pulled you across his chest, your legs tangling with his own. He remembered your laughter as he rolled you over on your back, his lips hovering over your own. “I love you,” he whispered just before his lips pressed against your own. Your fingers tighten in his hair. Your mouth moving close to his ear as he let his lips travel down your neck. “Shota need to wake up. Wake up my Love!”

Your urgent voice had roused him from his slumber. It was a strange swirling of love and anguish that hung heavily in his chest, a hard ball he couldn’t get rid of.

He swiped his arm across his face, hoping to stop the emotions. He took another slow breath in and held it as he practiced some of the coping mechanisms that he’d been taught by the child psychologist he’d taken Eri too. He didn’t need therapy, he didn’t need someone to talk to, but she did, his baby girl needed someone who wasn’t him to talk too. He did everything he could to make sure she was ok. She tried to be so strong for him, but she was so little and she missed her Mommy and it was so hard. Losing you was the worst thing that happened to them.

And now, he'd lost her too...his little girl had been taken by that Monster, the Monster he’d let live. He should have never let that man escape, he should have hunted him to the ends of the Earth...but he knew he’d made the right choice. He’d chosen his little girl.

It was as he was moving to the hall bathroom, that something on the coffee table caught his attention and he picked it up examining the strange flower, it was a single black rose swirled with gold. As he held it, in his hands he was reminded of the Deal he’d made with a young woman who claimed to be a god, a goddess, who would help him find his little girl. His fingers curled on the flower as he walked into the bathroom to wash his face and just take a moment to collect himself. He flipped on the light and watched the gold energy swirl along the rose petals, something was at work here. Something far beyond what he was capable of and it was in that moment that he allowed himself to put his faith in someone else.

He almost thought he’d heard a noise, but he brushed it aside as his imagination and then he heard it again the sound of a knock at the front door of his home. He hadn’t let go of the rose as he rushed for the front door, his heart pounding in his chest as he wrenched open the door.

Eri’s cry of Daddy was all he heard as he dropped to his knees, his arms curling around his little girl and pulling her against him as her arms circled around his neck, her tears staining his skin as she sobbed. He couldn’t breath, as he ignored the tears falling down his cheeks as he allowed himself the moment to bask in the fact that she was alive. She was truly here, safe and sound. He’d been worried so worried that she would wind up like her, ripped away from them before your time.

He raised his eyes to the young woman who stood a few paces back from them giving them this moment. She smiled softly at him, her fingers stuffed in the pocket of her jeans, her thumbs exposed in an almost bashful sort of pose. “Don’t thank me,” she told him before he could speak. “Just remember our deal once a year,” she told him as she turned away from them. “Also Eraser it's been handled, nothing like this will happen again.”

Shota was going to thank her, was going to ask questions, but within one moment and the next she was gone as though she had never been there.

|~~~|

Jiro found herself lingering among the humans one more time, there was little reason for her to be here, but today she found that she merely couldn’t be among the stars and watch from afar. It was why she lingered at the park hidden by her magic behind a tree as she peered around the thick wood to watch the family that had drawn her attention to them just a few short weeks ago. She watched the man linger on a picnic blanket, a book resting in his hand as he read absently from a book, she was sure it happened to belong to you, it was too well worn and the title spoke of a romance story. Still he read it, read it to be reminded of you and how much you had loved it.

His dark eyes would glance upward every few moments to watch his little girl as she played on the playground with another little boy. She'd learned over the past few weeks that his name was Kota and he loved Eri, he was so protective of her that it was really cute -- sickingly so.

Eri’s laughter filled the park as she held onto the rope as Kota pushed her from one end to the other. Her shrill laughter had been frightful at first, but it had morphed into one of such delight that many in the park paused to bask in her warmth, in her light.

“Oh no Baitar!” the startled cry of a young woman drew several heads to twist and turn in the direction of a massive black beast of a dog as he went charging forward, his leash fluttering behind him as he’d pulled free of your hands, you’d only loosened your hold for a moment, just a moment and he’d reacted and broken free. The sound of your voice drew Shota’s dark eyes toward the young woman and for a moment it was like he was seeing a ghost, he couldn’t explain the moisture that filled his eyes the moment he’d seen you. A connection had been made, no matter how small and despite the distance he noticed.

The dog knocked him over, flat on the picnic blanket. Its massive paws on his chest kept him still on his back, his cold nose pressed to his neck, a rumbling growling falling from his maul the moment he’d tried to rise. So he’d settled and let his body go listless as you came over. Apologies falling from your lips as you snapped your fingers demanding that Baitar heel and get off the nice man. He sat down like a good boy on the blanket when you’d told him too and you brushed back a strand of your wild locks behind your ear as you held out your hand for him to take.

Shota’s hand reached you to curl around your own and a spark passed between you, some energy, a magic that neither could explain as something tattered and worn reformed into a stronger, more solid thread. A connection reawakened.

“I’m so sorry about him, he’s usually so behaved!” You ramble on, as you both turn at the sounds of Eri and Kota coming over. You take one look at that silver haired little girl and blink surprised to find tears falling down your cheeks. “Uh - I’m so sorry, I don’t know…” you stammer out as a warm hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears. “It’s alright,” Shota tells you softly and somehow you know that everything will be, everything will be ok, just like he said. Something that had been missing, an emptiness in your heart was filled, it was whole...filled with a warmth you had been without for a long time.

|~~~|

“You never struck me as the type for silly mortal love stories,” A voice fluttered along her ear.

Hecate turned her silver eyes to look at the man who towered over her, his lips hovering above her own. “I’m not,” she said quickly, her cheeks darkening with color, telling another story.

The God of the Underworld only brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t believe you, my Love,” he told her as he moved his lips lower, and she covered his lips with the palm of her hand.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she told him as she ducked under his arm.

He snagged her arm letting his fingers lace with her own. “You can’t still be mad my Love,” he said softly watching the small smile tilt up along her lips. He knew you too well. “Maybe, Maybe not,” she said softly as they walked away from the family.

“Don’t forget who cleaned up the mess you left at that house,” he told her as he stopped her from walking away from him.

“I knew you’d come to investigate, you're always so nosy,” she muttered, but there was mischief in her eyes, as though she were daring him in her own way. “Only when it’s you, I’ll always come for you.” He promised, his intense gaze never left her own, as he lifted his palm to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry about the baby…” he murmured as he pulled her closer to his chest.

She sank into him, her face curling along his neck, and his hold tightened as he felt her tears, could feel the way her body trembled along his own. Neither moved for a moment. Slowly Hecate pressed her lips against his own and allowed her fingers to curl into the fabric of his shirt. It was only for a moment, just long enough for him to know that she appreciated his words, appreciated him and his protective tendencies. Let him know that she loved him and that she was sorry, so sorry for pushing him away.

“Don’t be sorry my Love,” he whispered along her ear as he laced their fingers together once more as they moved further away from the family, hand in hand.

“Are you sure it’s wise to leave Baitar with them?” He asked softly, as his thumb brushed along her knuckles.

“Yes, he’ll stay with them till that little girl is eighteen. She needs a protector and I promised her father.” Her words were just as soft as she stayed tucked against his side.

“I always knew you were softie under all that attitude and magic,” he teased gently, hoping to get a little smile out of her and it worked at least a little there was still much they needed to talk about.

“Don’t make me feed you to Cerberus,” she threatened with a glare and all he did was give a low chuckle. “You wouldn't; You’d miss me too much.”

Her only answer was to tighten her hand in his, that in itself a form of admission as they both disappeared in a swirl of darkness and shadow, back to the immortal realm, back home together safe and sound.

A/N: So how was it? What did you think? This was my first attempt at playing Jiro, I had a lot of leeway with her as she wasn’t exactly the Jiro we all know from MHA/BNHA. I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of Hecate.

#mha #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #kyoko jirou #bnha fluff #mha jirou #mha fluff #bnha #dark content #angst #eri #mha eri #bnha eri #mha kota #non canon #AU

83 notes · View notes

morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

Note

fic request because i am d e s p e r a t e : tarlos carlos whump with supportive gabriel reyes ??? if you’re down to write him that is. i love ur work n ur whump n i think u would write a p good gabe. 🥰

holly’s august extravaganza day 1: against all odds (we're still here)

i'm always down to write gabriel! thanks for the prompt trick, i hope you like it!

ao3 | 2k | car accidents, whump, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

“I told you we should have brought the car.”

Carlos scowls over at TK, shifting one of the many bags he’s carrying higher on his arm. It cuts painfully into his skin, his good mood from earlier long since soured. The knowledge that TK is, of course, right isn’t exactly helping matters.

“In my defence,” he starts, for probably the fifth or sixth time, “when we texted your dad to see if he wanted us to pick up anything from the store, I wasn’t expecting a full list.”

“We could have told him no.”

“TK, he’s your dad and we are literally crashing his home right now. I’m not gonna tell him no.”

TK opens his mouth, presumably to retort with a comment about how his dad loves Carlos and loves having them around. Both of which are things Carlos knows perfectly well, thanks, but he’s still not interested in testing it by refusing to get Owen’s kale chips or that specific brand of shampoo which took half an hour—and two stores—to track down.

Whatever TK was about to say is abandoned when one of his own bags slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground with a depressing thud. It bursts open—because why wouldn’t it—and spills their purchases across the sidewalk. The only solace is that nothing breaks, but that’s where the good news begins and ends; Carlos’s eyes track a can as it rolls down the street and into the gutter, landing in a puddle of dirty water. TK looks forlornly between the dropped bag and those still balanced on his arms, then heaves a long-suffering sigh and crouches awkwardly, easing the other bags down as carefully as he can manage.

“Call an Uber,” he grumbles. “We are not walking home like this.”

On that point, they’re in agreement. Carlos spares himself a moment of idle amusement at TK’s predicament before beginning the arduous task of extracting his phone from his pocket without dropping any of his own shopping.

He’ll hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

Oh my god!

Someone call 911!

Are they even alive?

Just hold on, son, you’re going to be just fine.

Beeping.

Carlos frowns, slowly blinking his heavy eyelids open. It takes a minute to register his surroundings for what they are—a hospital room—and a further minute to notice the presence at his side. It’s his father, looking exhausted, turning his cowboy hat in his hands as he stares at the floor.

“Dad?” he croaks, wincing at the soreness in his throat. “What happened?”

His father’s head jerks up, his eyes going wide as he sees Carlos awake. “Mijo. It’s good to see you awake.”

“Dad, why am I here? What happened?”

He sighs, reaching out to pat Carlos’s arm. “There was an accident,” he explains. “A drunk driver lost control of his car and mounted the curb right where you boys were standing. He was speeding, so he hit you pretty hard. Your foot was crushed under a wheel, you have a fractured wrist, and you bumped your head when you fell so you probably have a concussion. The doctors say you should heal just fine, though, gracias a Dios.”

Carlos lifts his head to look down at his body, only just registering the casts on his arm and foot. There’s a dull ache radiating through his entire body and his head is pounding in time with his heartbeat, but he’s alive and he’ll heal. He should be happy about that, but the only thing occupying his mind is his dad’s silence on TK.

“What about TK?” he asks, part of him dreading the answer. “I remember him pushing me; is he okay?”

“He’s…” His dad hesitates, sending a cold slither of fear down Carlos’s spine. “Alive.”

Carlos stares, the beginnings of panic stealing his breath. “What does that mean?”

His father blows out a long breath. “It means you were right,” he says, meeting Carlos’s eyes. “He did push you, so he took the brunt of the hit. He suffered a serious open pelvic fracture and broken ribs, which punctured his lung. Last I heard, they managed to fix him up and they’re not expecting any further complications, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

“He hasn’t woken up?”

“Not yet. He will, you’ll see.”

“I want to see him.”

And Carlos knows what the answer will be to that—a resounding no. He also knows that he won’t be able to argue; his father is incredibly stubborn, and when he digs his heels in, there’s no moving him. But he needs to at least try—he’s not going to stop worrying about TK until he sees him, and probably not for a long time after that.

His dad sighs and fixes him with a firm look. “Carlitos, you and I both know that’s out of the question,” he says. “You’ve only just woken up, you need to give yourself time to heal before exerting your body even more. Besides, he’s in good hands and Owen is with him, so we’ll know as soon as there’s any change.”

“Joder, Papá, I know all that,” Carlos cries, frustrated, barely able to refrain from throwing his head back on the pillow. “I just hate that he’s here, hurt, and I can’t even see him.”

“Lo sé,” His dad smiles gently, something that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but really only gets on Carlos’s nerves. “Escúchame, hijo. Descansa. Cúrate. Then you can focus on TK.”

It’s easier said than done and his father knows it, but Carlos has no choice. The conversation is effectively put to an end by his dad reaching over and pressing the call button next to the bed. A nurse comes in and quickly sets about checking his vitals and asking enough questions to make Carlos’s head spin. His probable concussion becomes definite, but otherwise he’s in good shape, all things considered.

He can’t help but wish he weren’t.

Two days later, Carlos is deemed fit to be discharged, providing he has someone to help him and providing he agrees to rest and not do anything even close to strenuous. TK is also awake now but, according to Owen, he’ll be kept in the hospital for at least another week. The break to his pelvis was bad, so he’ll need a wheelchair for a while even after discharge, and his refusal to take strong painkillers means his recovery is going to be long and painful.

Carlos is itching to see him. It’s been torture cooped up in his room without knowing how TK was doing—there’s only so much relief messages passed through their fathers can bring. It had only been his father’s stern and steady presence that had kept him in that bed when he felt like he was losing his mind with worry.

But now, finally, he’s being wheeled into TK’s room and helped onto the chair next to the bed. Owen stands off to the side, watching the two of them with a mixture of affection and sadness in his gaze, and his dad hovers behind him, but Carlos only has eyes for TK.

He looks incredibly tired, but he attempts a smile when he rolls his head to look at Carlos, extending his hand out across the distance between them.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos says softly, taking TK’s hand in his good one. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Not sure if I’ve been worse. I think this might just beat getting shot to that title.”

“That’s not funny.”

TK just hums, his eyes drifting closed for a second. “Maybe not.”

“Why did you push me?”

TK’s eyes fly open at the question, confusion overtaking his expression as he stares at Carlos. He moves as if to sit upright before groaning in pain, his face screwing up. Carlos reaches out for him, but he’s beaten to it by his father, who places a reassuring hand on TK’s shoulder.

“Take it easy, son,” he says gently. “Don’t move too much.”

“I hate this,” TK mutters, his body relaxing bit by bit. His gaze is still clouded when he looks back over at Carlos, but he manages a soft smile all the same. “I pushed you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. The car would have hit me either way; I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get you out of the way in time.”

Carlos blinks at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sorry?” he asks, disbelief colouring his tone. “Ty, you’re in the hospital, seriously injured, because you chose to save me instead of yourself. Why would you do that?”

“You know why.”

Carlos does; of course he does, but it’s not enough to assuage the guilt still bubbling in his stomach at the sight of TK in the bed.

TK sighs, squeezing his hand. “You would have done the same for me,” he points out. “We both know you would have, so don’t you dare ask me to apologise for my choices.”

“I know. I won’t.” Carlos closes his eyes, deflating a little. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“And I hate seeing you hurt, so maybe you can do us both a favour and go home. I’ll be fine.”

Carlos must need his hearing tested, because there’s no way TK just said that. There’s no way his boyfriend told him to leave right after calling him out for hypocrisy. Except apparently he did, because he’s trying to disentangle their hands, and Carlos is not having that.

He grips onto TK even tighter and glares at him. “TK, if you think I’m leaving you here—”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts quietly. “I get it. But, babe, you need to rest and heal, and you can’t do either of those things sitting here.”

“Watch me.”

“No.” TK shifts his gaze over Carlos’s shoulder, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “Mr Reyes, can you make sure he rests?”

His dad laughs, leaning over to pat TK’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m sure once his mother sees him, she won’t let him out of her sight for a week anyway.”

TK grins. “Good to know.” He yawns and resettles himself slightly in the bed, his eyes fluttering shut. “Carlos, if you’re still here when I next open my eyes, I’m not kissing you for a month.”

“You shouldn’t make threats you know you can’t follow through with.”

“Don’t make me make it two.”

Despite himself, Carlos laughs. He leans over and presses a lingering kiss to TK’s temple, then stands as well as he’s able, leaning on his dad for support. “Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

TK already sounds half-asleep when he mumbles, “Love you too,” back, and Carlos can’t even be embarrassed by how ridiculously smitten he must look, even though he’s in front of both their fathers.

He allows his dad to move him back to the wheelchair and says a quick goodbye to Owen, keeping his eyes on TK for as long as he can. Just as they reach the door, he catches TK’s eyes opening to slivers, obviously checking to see if Carlos is actually leaving. Carlos shakes his head at him, causing TK to flush at the knowledge he’s been caught. His eyes slam shut again, his tongue poking out childishly, and Carlos laughs, a lightness settling in his heart even as TK’s room disappears from view.

It’s going to be a long few months for the both of them, but they have family behind them to help them get through it.

And they have each other. Which, given everything, Carlos thinks is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

78 notes · View notes

adhdeancas · 4 years ago

Text

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia.

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?”

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?”

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about.

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks.

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname.

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles.

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom.

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

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome.

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing.

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying,

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly.

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary.

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice.

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.”

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up.

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.”

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex.

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude.

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously.

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom.

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

#tw: dysphoria #trans dean #destiel #deancas #ftm dean #transmasc dean #fanfic #dean is trans #my writing #mine

316 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

The best present - Harry Styles

Sequel to UPDATE

on demand, this is a fluffy little sequel to update, hope you’ll like it! tagging the people who asked for said sequel: @urdadbtch @f-vasquezp

word count: 3k

masterlist

Harry has a soft spot for surprises. Especially if he is the one planning them for a loved one. The overflowing joy he sees in one’s eyes upon receiving a carefully planned surprise just gives him a different type of satisfaction in life, one he couldn’t live without.

His life has taken a pleasant turn ever since Y/N entered it, virtually and in a real dimension. It hasn’t been the easiest with his hectic schedule and her anchored life in Spokane, but with some time paid to adjusting to the situation they managed to make it work. He wouldn’t have settled for anything else, because he just simply couldn’t imagine his life without her anymore and luckily she felt the same way.

Harry fell in love with her quicker than what it took for the weather to turn cold in the fall. It felt like the most natural thing that has ever happened to him, to fall for her whole being, everything that’s her on the inside and outside. Harry often caught himself thinking what he did in life to earn such a beautiful person in his life. He hasn’t figured that one out yet.

Y/N was like a warm summer breeze on a hot august evening, easily charmed anyone and everyone Harry introduced her to. She slowly but surely met some of the most important people in Harry’s life and he just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it felt like she’s been part of his life since forever even on the first meetings.

“She is wonderful, I love her,” his mother told him when they finally had the chance to meet upon a weekend they spent in New York. It was a lucky time when both his mother and Y/N were free and he took the chance to cook up a mini vacation in the city right away. Anne was thrilled to meet the woman that had her son wrapped around her fingers even before meeting.

Harry felt like he was on the top of the world when he saw the two women get along like they’ve been friends for years, it filled his heart even more.

The situation was quite the same with Gemma, in just a blink of an eye they were making plans on their own not including Harry, which hit him a little hard in the chest, but he was happy knowing they found the common ground.

“You amaze me so much,” he once told Y/N when they were spending the night at her place, one of those weekends when Harry flew all the way to Spokane just to spend less than 48 hours with her. Even with the long flights and hustle that came with the traveling he wouldn’t have done it any other way. If he could see her smile for just ten minutes he would have travelled days.

“I do?” she asked smirking up at him, putting her book aside as she rested her chin on his tattooed chest.

“Mhm,” he hummed with a quirky smile. “In so many ways.”

“Write a song about them so I can listen to it,” she told him as a joke. Little did she know that not even a week later that’s exactly what Harry did. It was another addition to the endless list of songs she inspired.

December creeped its way around the corner faster than they were expecting and in a blink of an eye every store was filled with Christmas ornaments and wrapping papers, the most iconic Christmas songs were played everywhere, making those who work at retail want to throw Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey right out the window for every having the thought of recording Christmas music.

Harry and Y/N had plans for the holidays. They agreed on spending three days from 22nd to 24th with his family and then fly to Portland to be with her family from the 25th to 27th before they head to New York City to spend the last few days left from the year together and celebrate the new year at a party Harry was invited to.

These plans were set in stone right until Harry decided to surprise his lover with the best gift he could think about. It was a tough call and took him weeks to arrange but Harry was able to get Y/N’s brother to leave for the holidays earlier, on the 21st instead of just the 26th.

“Why are we changing it again?” Y/N asks curiously as she sits on Harry’s lap when they are changing their plane tickets so they could start the holidays at her family instead of his.

“Mom is not going to be home until the 24th,” he lies and then adds: “Gemma is also gonna only arrive on the 23rd. Figured it would work better. We would be at your parents’ from the 21st to the 23rd, go to the UK from 24th to 26th and there is an early flight so we would be in Portland by the time your brother arrives.”

He had spent a long time figuring out how to manage the dates so she wouldn’t be suspicious. Seemingly, it worked, because Y/N nods as she stands up and walks over to the kitchen.

“Alright. But isn’t that too much of a hustle to go back and forth two times?”

“Not that horrible,” Harry smiles in her way, his fingers moving fast on the keyboard to make the right changes for their trips before she returns and sees that the dates are not exactly the same as he told her. Luckily, she hops onto the kitchen counter as he finishes up and closes his laptop feeling ecstatic about the surprise he has planned for her.

“It’s gonna be busy,” she points out as Harry walks over to her, placing his hands on each side of her on the counter.

“But we will be busy together,” he grins leaning closer to steal a kiss.

As the days pass by Harry is growing more and more excited about the surprise. He almost slipped a few times upon talking about the holidays, but managed to save the situation just in time. Y/N had no idea what he had in store for her.

“That’s all your stuff for our trip?” Y/N asks when Harry arrives to her place with his decent, normal sized suitcase that has his essentials for the next about seven days while they will be on the road. He glances down at his bag before walking inside and setting it down in the hallway.

“Love, I’ve learned how to pack in a smart way,” he tells her teasingly before pecking her on the lips while he takes his coat off and hangs it in the hallway.

“Yeah, but it’s an entire week. I’m going with twice this much.”

“’Cuz you are packing for New York as well. We’ll be staying in my place, remember? I don’t need stuff for that time,” he reminds her and he is right, but she is still amazed at how he managed to fit everything he needs into just one suitcase.

That night Harry lies awake with her sleeping form next to him. Looking around the room he thinks about how this is the same place he fell in love with her, but it was through just a screen. All the plants, the furniture, the bed he saw behind her in the videos are now his reality as well and in just a few short months they have grown so close to each other, he couldn’t imagine his life in a different way.

“What’s the matter?” he hears her groggy voice coming from next to him and looking to the side he sees that she is blinking at him in the dark.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning to his side to face her, noses almost touching on the pillow.

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?” she asks, sneaking a hand to his back under the covers and she starts to gently stroke his skin with his fingertips, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Just… excited about the holidays,” he whispers with a shrug. He can’t tell her that he is excited to meet your family, especially your brother since he is kind of the reason you ever got the chance to meet. He feels like he is too worked up about meeting her parents and cousins, but he can’t wait to feel like he is part of her family. What he doesn’t know is that she already sees him as part of it, has been since she realized how deeply in love she is with him.

“Mmm, excited about your gifts?” she teases him with closed eyes, but her fingers are still moving on his back. Harry lets out a soft chuckle.

“Especially about those.”

He brings his arm around her frame and pulls her to his chest as they make themselves comfortable under the covers, legs tangled, her face resting on his chest as he gently strokes her arms, soothing her back into sleep.

“I love you,” he whispers thinking she has already fallen back asleep. It wasn’t the first time he has said the words to her, but tonight just feels a little different.

“Love you too,” she mumbles back pressing a kiss to his naked chest before she sighs and lets herself fall back into sleep.

Her family knew about the change in Sammy’s arrival, but Harry made them promise they won’t say a word to Y/N, keeping it as a surprise.

Her mother welcomes the two of them with warm excitement, the house already smelling amazing from all the different cookies she’s been baking, the dinner is also in the making on the stove.

“Finally here!” she hugs both of them, even though she hasn’t officially met Harry, only talked to him on the phone about Sammy’s early arrival. “Come on in!”

The two of them get rid of their winter attire before Harry turns to her mother holding out a hand to make their first meeting official.

“So nice to meet ya, I’m Harry.”

Instead of taking his hand her mother pulls him into another tight hug that he returns with a soft chuckle.

“I’m so happy you are finally here! I’ve heard so much good about you,” she tells him with a sly, knowing smile while Y/N is not looking. “I can tell you are a blessing to the family already.”

“Thank you,” he nods smiling.

Harry meets Y/N’s dad and two of her cousins who have arrived earlier and they all gather in the living room just talking at first, then soon enough they start playing board games. They get stuck on Activity, the pairs are Y/N and Harry, her mom and dad, and her two cousins. The competition is burning up the house, Harry can tell they all take the game very seriously.

Through the game Harry keeps glancing out the window, waiting for a car to park at the driveway. He has sent a car to pick Sammy up, but since he didn’t have his phone on him just yet he couldn’t let Harry know when he would be arriving exactly.

Just after he is done drawing in one of the rounds he sees the black car pull up at the house. Harry pretends to get a call and he can see the excitement grow in her parents’ eyes as they already know what this means, while Y/N is oblivious to anything that’s about to happen. Harry quietly makes his way out of the house hoping he didn’t draw her attention, and that’s when Sammy gets out of the car thanking the driver for the ride. As he turns around Harry is stunned to see how much the two of them resemble. He sees her eyes in his, their ears curl the same way and he has the exactly same hair color as her. There was no doubt the two of them were related.

“Harry, right?” he asks holding his hand out firmly that Harry takes smiling.

“Yeah. Sammy, I supposed.”

“The one and only,” he chuckles holding his bag’s strap over his shoulder.

“I would love to chat more, but I think we should move inside first,” Harry suggests and Sammy follows him up the few stairs that leads to the front door.

“Harry! Come on, we are up next!” Y/N calls out from the living room as the two guys walk inside.

She is seated on the floor, her back to the hallway so she doesn’t see when the two men walk in, grinning from ear to ear. She only notices something is happening when she sees her mother gasp happily at the sight of her son.

“What—“ she starts but turning around her words disappear as she stares up at her brother who she hasn’t seen in what feels like ages.

Harry overflows with joy when he sees how shocked she is, in the best way possible. He watches her leap to her feet and jolt right at Sammy, throwing herself into his arms as he lifts her up, twirling her around in excitement.

“Hi there, little sis,” he chuckles still holding her close as she is fighting with her tears upon the surprise she just had.

“How… What are you doing here early?” she asks in total awe as she tries to comprehend that he is truly here, in her arms.

“Ask you boyfriend,” Sammy chuckles looking in Harry’s direction. “He arranged an early leaving for me, I don’t know how, but he did,” Sammy adds letting go of his sister.

As her parents make their way to their son Y/N moves over to Harry, still in complete disbelief that he did this.

“How?” she asks, arms snaking up around his neck while his hands get a hold of her waist.

“I have… connections,” he shrugs shyly and she just shakes her head laughing before she pulls him down for the sweetest thank you kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she sighs pecking his lips once again.

“What I can’t believe is that he could keep it a secret this long,” Sammy speaks up.

“Wait, how long have you known this?”

“A couple weeks. Got it finalized early December,” Harry admits, feeling proud that he could make this happen.

“So this is why we had to change the tickets!” she gasps in realization. “When do we have to leave for real then?”

“We are staying until the 25th, our plane leaves in the afternoon,” he smiles warmly as he sees her eyes light up. According to the original plans they would have had only two days with Sammy at home, but this way it’s almost four entire days. “This was the most I could get, Love,” Harry adds, feeling a bit guilty that they are leaving to see his family, but Y/N shakes her head.

“This is absolutely perfect. You gave me the best present,” she smiles cupping his face in her hands as she pulls him down for another kiss.

This Christmas goes down as the best one she has ever had. The time they spend with her family holds a special place in her heart, especially because she loves seeing her family and Harry get along so well. She now knows what he felt when she met his mother and sister. Seeing him be so kind to her mom and have loads of things to talk about with her dad and brother warms her in a way only Harry can make her feel.

The feeling doesn’t change when they arrive to his home. She feels like she is part of the family just as much as he is. They spend some splendid days with his extended family, enjoying the spirit of the holidays and she is almost sad when it’s time for them to leave.

“Come back soon, Sweetheart,” Anne tells her when they are saying goodbye at the airport.

“I will, if he is okay with bringing me next time,” she chuckles glancing at Harry by her side.

“Oh I sure am, Love,” he smiles kissing the top of her head.

Those couple of days they spend together in the city holds memories they will surely never forget. They finally get to spend time together without anything interrupting them, just enjoying the little moments, falling deeper in love with each passing day.

The last day arrives in a fast pace and neither of them can believe the year is ending so soon. They spend the day in bed mostly before it’s time to get ready for the party one of Harry’s friends is hosting in Manhattan.

It’s a nice way to end such a wonderful year, they mix and mingle with the guests but keep each other close, especially when they reach the last minutes of the year left. Harry takes her hand and pulls her out to the balcony to have some privacy before the countdown.

“Crazy how we are here,” he sighs as his arms are wrapped around her figure, warming her body as much as he can in the New York City winter time.

“Who would have thought?” she chuckles placing a sweet kiss to his jawline.

“Not me,” he admits laughing. “But I’m glad it’s my reality now.”

Y/N smiles up at him with gratitude in her eyes, just when the countdown starts inside.

“Have you ever had a New Year’s Eve kiss?” Harry asks as he pulls her closer, if that’s even possible.

“Sadly, I have not.”

“Then can I have the pleasure to be your first?” he smirks down at her and she just nods biting into her bottom lip.

“Three! Two! One!” the guests call out inside as the whole city erupts at the same time, fireworks go off and cheering echoes through the building, but it all fades into nothing as Harry leans down and kisses her sweetly. They spend the first couple of moments of the new year melted together until they pull back for air. The crispy winter air has turned his nose red quickly and she is lost in how adorable but handsome he still manages to look.

“Harry Styles,” she sighs feeling defeated by her own feelings. “You are one wonderful creature, you know that?” she wonders, as if she was saying her inner thoughts out loud. Harry chuckles as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“That makes the two of us, Love.”

I’m opening a Harry taglist, let me know if you are interested in being on it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

747 notes · View notes

writethelifeyouwant · 4 years ago

Text

Meet the Parents

Pairing: Cordell x Trevor x Stella

Rating: 18+

Summary: When Stella brings her boyfriend home from college to stay the weekend, they are planning on doing a bit more than just “spending the night together”... and it certainly turns out to be more than that once Cordell overhears them in Stella’s room.

Word Count: 4.7k

Created for: @walker-bingo Free Space | @anyfandomgoesbingo Meet the Parents/Family

Tags/Warnings: Incest, Father/Daughter Incest, Threesome, fingering (f and m rec), oral (f rec), rimming, instruction kink, daddy kink, p in v, p in a, condoms, creampie

A/N: I’m going to hell, please come keep me company.

Stella had gotten back from college earlier that afternoon, usual bag of laundry in tow, but she had some extra baggage this time - the boyfriend. Cordell has heard whispers of ‘the boyfriend’ from August, who spoke to his sister a little more regularly than he did, not surprisingly. No eighteen year-old fresh out of their parents’ house wants to be texting their father 24/7, but he would have appreciated some kind of heads up that they were expecting company for the weekend.

Cordell’s sitting in the den, bourbon in hand, listening to the crickets outside chattering away, but they aren’t quite loud enough to drown out the soft giggles and whispers that are leaking from Stella’s room right now. He feels his hand clench around his glass almost like it’s a phantom limb, everything feels numb except for his ears, burning with the strain of trying to listen to what Stella and Trevor might be saying. He’s confident that whatever it is they are talking about, he doesn’t actually want to overhear the conversation.

Draining the remainder of his drink, Cordell makes his way to the counter to pour a refill.

He wasn’t going to bed until he knew for a fact that everyone else had gone to sleep, and from the sounds of it, Trevor and Stella weren’t exactly close to settling in. There’s a short burst of laughter and a ‘shh’, and Cordell looks up at his daughter’s closed bedroom door, moodily.

His mind flashes back to his baby girl sneaking into the kitchen an hour ago, small pyjama shorts riding up far too high, clearly rooting through the fridge for some beers to sneak back to her room. She’d jumped when Cordell cleared his throat behind her, sitting forwards from his spot on the couch, so the light of the refrigerator caught on his stern face.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Stella Blue?”

“Hi, Dad,” she squeaks, tucking her hands behind her in the fridge. “Just, um,” she scrambles for something out of sight, “grabbing this.” Stella pulls a soda from behind her back.

“Really?” Cordell smirks, not angry, he’d been expecting something like this - that’s why he was up and sitting on the couch, waiting. “Caffeine? At this hour?” Even August, teenage boy obsessed with the internet that he is, had turned out his lights and gone to bed a little while ago.

“I - uh…” Stella grimaces.

“Why don’t you put that back, Stels?” He feels his lips tighten and brows furrow in his best attempt at ‘stern dad’ without looking angry. For a moment, Stella looks like she’s going to argue but then she thinks better of it, puts away the soda, and slinks back to her room, shutting the door softly behind her.

Another giggle breaks him from his reverie and his hand closes into a fist against the cold granite counter, fighting the urge to knock and tell them to go to bed. He downs the new measure of bourbon he’s just poured out, desperately wishing he could erase some of the things he’s heard tonight. But the alcohol and the burning in his throat do nothing to block out the soft groan that slips from beneath his daughter’s door.

It was so quiet, he isn’t positive he’d heard it. And his Ranger brain kicks in, trying to find any possible explanation for what the noise could have been; the wind outside, an animal in the ranch paddock… the creak of a bed spring. That is definitely what the new sound he’s just heard is – a muffled squeak as bodies shift on a too old mattress and less than well-oiled box spring. It’s quickly followed by another quiet groan, and Cordell grits his teeth and takes a long swig of bourbon, foregoing the formality of pouring it into the glass first.

The bottle is halfway to his lips again when he hears a small, high-pitched whine – Stella’s – but something seems … off. Cordell has known his baby girl for eighteen years. He knows what she sounds like when she’s happy, when she’s tired, when she’s sad, when she’s hurt. There’s another small whimper and Cordell strains to hear better. He needs to be sure. The third time he hears it he’s certain. That’s not a happy sound coming from his daughter’s bedroom, it’s one of discomfort, one of pain. Cordell bursts through the door in a fury, already rolling up his sleeves in preparation for tearing this Trevor kid in two for hurting his baby girl.

“Aah, Dad!” Stella screams, pulling her pyjama top back down to cover her exposed breasts and yanking Trevor’s hand out of her shorts. Cordell stops dead, unprepared for the shock that it is seeing Stella splayed out on her bed, chest bare and trembling, and her boyfriend’s fingers between her legs. In his burning rage he also feels a flare of desire distracting enough to delay him wringing Trevor’s neck.

Trevor is very carefully trying to shift away from Stella in the bed, like Cordell is less likely to beat him up if he increases the distance between himself and his daughter, and the movement draws Cordell’s attention back to the boy – the very naked boy – in his daughter’s bed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cordell hisses, finding the presence of mind to shut the door behind him so August doesn’t walk by and see what’s happening inside. “You think you can come into my house, force yourself on my daughter? Boy, I learned how to castrate bulls when I was ten. What do you think I’m about to do with you, huh?” Trevor is frozen in terror, boner now completely limp, his cock retreating like a turtle into its shell.

“Dad, no!” Stella exclaims, pulling a blanket over Trevor to cover his modesty.

“Stella, don’t worry baby, I’m not gonna let this piece of scum touch you ever again,” Cordell promises, storming towards the pair on the bed.

“No, Daddy,” she tries again, standing up to put herself between Cordell and Trevor. “Stop. He wasn’t forcing me! I wanted it.” Cordell stops short, looking down at Stella, who has her hands pressing against his chest in an effort to calm him. “I –” Stella swallows nervously, looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but I wanted this. That’s why I asked him to come stay this weekend, we wanted to, y’know…” she can’t get the words out. “Don’t hurt him, he wasn’t forcing me.”

“But,” Cordell’s mind is still reeling from the fact that Stella is standing here in front of him telling him she planned to lose her virginity this weekend, “Stels, I heard you. You sounded like he was hurting you.”

“I would never hurt her,” Trevor shoots up in the bed, angrily, but cows under Cordell’s glare, “um, sir,” he finishes lamely.

“Stella,” Cordell sits her down on the end of her bed and drops to one knee in front of her. He brushes her long red hair off her face, cupping her cheek gently, and focusing on her soft blue eyes, shimmering with nerves. “I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me. Was he hurting you?”

Stella shakes her head immediately but takes a moment to find her words, Cordell can tell she’s holding something back. “No,” she finally starts, “not, um, not on purpose.”

“What?” Trevor and Cordell speak simultaneously and equally confused.

“It.. he, um, he didn’t hurt me Dad,” Stella is stronger in her conviction now, “it just,” she grimaces, stalling. Cordell finally understands.

“He wasn’t very good, was he?” Cordell grimaces in sympathy, and a little amusement at Trevor’s expense. Stella shakes her head ever so slightly, and Cordell laughs. Trevor is sitting in an embarrassed silence behind them, clutching the blanket in his lap. Cordell stands, brushing a hand down the back of Stella’s head as he rounds on the boy. “You ever touched a girl before, Trevor?”

“Yes,” he answers indignantly.

“You ever made a girl cum before?” Cordell is a little taken aback by his own bluntness, but he supposes the seven or eight shots of liquor he’s had over the past hour must be fogging his brain a little.

“Yes,” Trevor answers again, but his doubt is evident.

“You don’t sound too sure about that, son,” Cordell pokes, standing over him now, arms crossing over his chest. Trevor tries to stutter out an answer but he doesn’t manage any actual words. “From where I was standing, it sounds like you could use a few lessons,” Cordell smirks knowingly.

“Dad, leave him alone,” Stella objects, climbing back up the bed to Trevor’s side.

“What?” he feigns innocence, smiling. “I’m just looking out for my baby girl. Can’t have you getting hurt, even by accident.”

“Dad,” she whines again, burying her head in Trevor’s shoulder.

“Plus,” Cordell kneels again, putting himself back on their level, “what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t make sure you were being taken good care of?” Both teens are clearly not sure what they’re supposed to say to that. Cordell takes advantage of their silence and sits on the edge of the bed, and Trevor recoils slightly into Stella’s arms, which are wrapped around his waist. “So,” Cordell brings his hand up to Trevor’s face and brushes a curl behind his ear, keeping eye contact with the boy as he speaks, “he a good kisser, Stels? Or is he useless at that too?”

“Yeah – no – he’s… he’s a good kisser, Daddy,” Stella blushes, her answers given in an almost trance-like state.

“Well, let’s find out,” and he leans forward to kiss the younger boy, hand still in his curly brown hair.

Their lips meet hesitantly, like Cordell is waiting for Trevor to pull away, and Trevor is waiting for Cordell to tell him this whole thing is a joke, but now they are kissing softly – like you would at the end of a first date, when you still need to find out what they like. Stella’s cheeks burn as she watches her father kiss her boyfriend gently, surprised by the surge of arousal she feels pulsing through her at the sight. She knows what Trevor’s lips feel like against hers, soft and wet and insistent, and she wonders if they feel the same to her daddy. They break apart with sharp gasps, and Cordell’s eyes flick to hers, glinting in the low light.

“Well, at least I know he’s been showing you a good time so far, baby girl,” he smirks at her, and Stella nods gingerly. “C’mere, sweetie,” Cordell motions her forwards, and she goes willingly, not knowing what he was planning to do but wanting desperately to find out. “Kiss her,” he breathes at Trevor, and the boy listens, leaning forwards and drawing Stella into him.

Trevor’s kiss overwhelms her, and Stella melts against his bare chest. His kiss is familiar and warm, but the hand against her back is new. It’s larger, rougher, and it curls into her skin more possessively than Trevor’s fingers ever had. Stella moans into Trevor’s lips, letting his tongue wrap around hers, and her daddy’s fingers twist into the hair on the back of her head.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers against her ear, and Stella whimpers, this time very clearly from pleasure and not discomfort. The hand against her back pushes down, and Stella follows, straddling Trevor and laying down over him, tangling their hands together on the pillow by his head. As they continue to kiss and grind, she feels Trevor’s erection through the thin cotton of her shorts. Pleased that she can feel his reaction to her, she rubs over him eagerly – and her daddy must have noticed, because his hand drags down her back and lands on her hip, encouraging her grinding.

Trevor moans and ruts up between her legs, and the pressure there against her core feels amazing. “Shit,” Trevor groans into her lips.

“She gettin’ wet yet?” Stella whines in embarrassment and arousal at her daddy’s words.

“Yeah,” Trevor pants from beneath her, “can feel it, even through her shorts.” Stella hides her face in the crook of his shoulder, but can’t stop herself rubbing against the hard member between her thighs.

“Fuck,” Cordell is smirking, Stella can hear it in his voice. “You must be soaking, baby girl.”

“Mmhmm,” Stella’s voice is muffled in the pillow, but she doesn’t want to pick up her head and reveal just how much her daddy’s words are turning her on.

“Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby,” Cordell’s fingers ghost over her bottom, drawing dangerously close to the wet patch that is clearly visible on her little shorts. “You wanna taste her, son? Get your first good lick of pussy?” Trevor’s groan answers him. “Roll over, Stels, on your back, honey.” Stella lets her father’s hands push her off of Trevor and onto the bed.

“Get those clothes off her,” Cordell commands Trevor, and he eagerly complies, reaching out to pull Stella’s shorts down her slim, pale legs, stretched out beneath him, cradled in the sheets. She pulls her own top over her head, small perky breasts slipping free, and Cordell can’t take his eyes off them. Fuck, his baby girl has grown up so fuckin’ pretty. “Spread your legs for us, baby.” He puts his hand on one of her thighs and encourages them to part, revealing her glistening core. “Now, hands and knees, boy, c’mon,” he spins his finger in the air, indicating Trevor needs to turn himself around and get between Stella’s legs.

The boy climbs to the space where Cordell wants him and settles on his hands and knees, staring at the spot between Stella’s thighs where he clearly wants to be, but keeping still, because he hasn’t been told to do anything else yet. Cordell hops off the bed and quickly unbuttons his shirt, discarding it on the floor, where it’s joined shortly by his belt and pants. He crawls back onto the bed behind Trevor, and smooths a large, calloused hand up his thigh and over his ass.

“You strike me as more of a ‘hands on learner’, buddy. That true?”

“Yes, Sir,” Trevor nods, hoping that’s the answer Cordell was looking for.

“Good. Then I’m gonna show you everything you’ve gotta do to make my little girl cum for you. You want that?”

“Yes,” the boy answers eagerly.

“You’ve just gotta follow my lead, do everything I do, okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Another nod, and then a shocked gasp, as Cordell leans down and runs his tongue up the seam of Trevor’s ass, right over his hole. He does it again, the same simple motion, one lick bottom to top, and Trevor groans, shuddering beneath him.

“I thought I told you to do everything I do?” Cordell huffs when he draws back and sees Trevor’s head hanging limply between his shoulders. “Don’t leave my baby waiting.” He doesn’t move back to his task until he sees Trevor dip his head and drag his tongue over Stella’s entrance, and up to the small bundle of nerves at its peak. Stella almost squeals, hands rushing to clutch in the boy’s curls and make him stay there between her legs. He licks against her again and she whines, high and desperate.

“Daddy…” she whimpers, tossing her head back.

“You’re doing so good, baby girl.” Cordell brushes the hair out of her eyes, which are currently squeezed closed in pleasure. “Look so pretty… all spread out for us – doesn’t she?”

“Mmm,” Trevor hums against Stella, his tongue still drawing its lines up and down her core. Cordell grins behind him, happy he’s not taking his mind off the task at hand. Stella’s breathing is sharp and quick, still not familiar with the sensation of having a tongue playing with her pussy, and he’s about to teach Trevor some more tricks to make her squirm.

Cordell draws his tongue flat along Trevor’s hole, laving at the expanse of skin beneath it as well. The chain reaction of moans from Trevor and then Stella tells him that Trevor has copied his movement over Stella’s entrance. He quickly changes tact and traces the tip of his tongue in small circles right over Trevor’s hole, making it flutter and twitch, then soothing it with longer licks. “You feel what I’m doing to you?” Cordell hums into Trevor’s skin, and the boy moans in affirmation. “Do that right over her clit, nice and light— there ya go,” Stella keens across her daddy’s instructions, making him smile. “Now go ahead and give it a nice hard suck, and keep your tongue moving, just like that, yeah,” Cordell strokes his hand over Trevor’s back as he continues to build Stella closer and closer to her orgasm.

Stella’s hands are gripping the quilt beneath her like she’s about to fall off a cliff and that’s the only thing that’s keeping her grounded. Her daddy moves up to her side, grabbing her hand and winding their fingers together, so she can hang on to him instead. She turns and buries her face in Cordell’s side, while still pushing her hips harder into her boyfriend’s mouth, whimpering in pleasure. Cordell draws soothing circles over the back of her hand as she clutches him even tighter.

“You need to cum, baby girl?” He keeps his voice soothing, and steady. Stella nods into his side. “Alright, sweetheart.” He brushes the hair back from her face, so he can watch her expression. “Okay son, want you to take your finger and push the tip inside her, just a little bit.” Trevor doesn’t make an audible response, but Cordell can tell when he does it because Stella’s breath hitches, pushing her chest into his leg. “Alright, now work it deeper, go real slow for me.” He sees Trevor’s arm start to push in and out of his little girl. “There’s a spot you want to find, if you move your finger along the top…” and after a moment Stella moans, deep and full. “Yeah, feels good doesn’t it, baby girl?” Stella whines and answers by bucking her hips down into Trevor’s finger. “Okay keep rubbing against it like that, and get your mouth back on her —” another moan from Stella “— now a little faster —”

“Oh my god,” Stella is close to sobbing with the pleasure, now. “Daddy, Daddy, please.” Cordell can’t help the smirk that splits his face when he hears Stella begging him, not Trevor, to make her cum.

“Go ahead and cum Stels,” he squeezes her hand. “Be my good girl, cum for Daddy now, c’mon.”

“Daddy!” She squeals as her body convulses, then stiffens, back arching off the bed in a graceful curve that pushes the pale flesh of her breasts right towards Cordell’s face, and he can’t help but lean down and kiss one nipple, gently.

“Good girl, Stels,” he strokes his big hand down her belly, which is still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Did so, so good for me, baby girl.” When Stella can finally peel her eyes open, and they find her daddy’s face above her, her smile is blinding, if a little dazed.

“Fuck, that was hot, baby,” Trevor groans, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Now, please, tell me you two have protection around here somewhere.” Cordell goes to the bedside drawer where Stella’s pointing, telling himself that it’s a good thing his baby girl was keeping condoms on hand. He finds the packet in the drawer, grabbing two, and luckily finds a small bottle of lube, too, which he brings back to the bed with him. He stalwartly does not think about the hint of bright pink he uncovered in his searching that was most definitely a dildo, lodged beside an open packet of birth control pills.

“You ready to start the real work, son?”

“Yes, Sir,” the boy groans, shuffling his knees closer to Stella, still between her legs.

“Woah there partner, not so fast,” Cordell grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down to his hands and knees, ass in the air. “Gotta get you both ready first. You’re gonna follow my lead again, yeah?” Trevor hums an affirmative response.

Cordell grabs the lube and gets some on his fingers, before tossing the bottle back to the covers. He brings one wet finger to the entrance winking up at him, and traces his fingertip up and down the seam, spreading the lube around before he pushes lightly against the opening, testing its give. It takes a moment for Trevor to relax, but Cordell gets the tip of his finger in eventually. “You gotta relax, boy, let me in. Focus on your girl there, you’re here to make her feel good, yeah?” He sees his curls bounce up and down as Trevor nods and brings his hand back to Stella’s pussy, drawing his finger through her slick before he pushes his middle finger in.

Cordell continues to pump his first finger in and out of Trevor’s ass, feeling the boy loosening around him, until he’s ready for another finger. He pulls out and adds more lube, before bringing the digits back and pushing two slowly but firmly back in. “Start to stretch her out now, add another finger in.” Stella whimpers when Trevor draws out and re-enters her with two fingers this time.

“Feel good darlin’?” Stella nods, locking eyes with her daddy. “I bet she’s nice and tight, ain’t she, son?”

“Yes, Sir,” Trevor pants, forehead resting against his left forearm. He seems to really be enjoying Cordell’s fingers in his ass. “She’s so fuckin’ tight. F-feels good.”

“Try to fit another finger in there, stretch that pussy out real good f’me.” Cordell punctuates his statement by adding more lube and a third finger into Trevor’s opening, and the boy can’t contain his groan of pleasure at the thicker intrusion.

“Fuck,” he moans, pushing a three fingers into Stella, who is dripping enough to make a spot on the sheets beneath her. She lets out an answering moan and bucks her hips up into Trevor’s hand.

“Oh, looks like someone’s getting a little greedy, huh baby?” Cordell smirks down at his daughter, writhing on the bed, hair splayed out around her like a wreath of flames. She whines at him in response, pushing down into the fingers inside her again. “You think you’re ready for a cock, baby girl? Want your boyfriend to fill up that slutty little hole you got there?”

“Yes, Daddy, please,” she mewls, thrusting her hips again.

“What about you, huh? Think you’re ready f’my cock?” Cordell chooses his moment well, and intentionally strokes over Trevor’s prostate when he asks the question, prompting an answering ‘fuck yes’ out of the boy. “Good answer.”

Cordell opens one condom packet and rolls the thin barrier over Trevor’s dick for him, running the extra lube from his hand over the covered member once he’s down, then quickly rips into the second packet and rolls it on himself, before grabbing for more lube and drizzling it over himself and the tight little hole he’s about to fuck himself into.

Trevor shifts up the bed so he’s pressed against Stella and he can run the tip of his cock through her slick folds. She pushes back against him lightly, but waits for her dad’s say so, still. Cordell ruts himself along the crack of Trevor’s ass, teasing. When the tip of his cock catches against the boy’s rim, he lets out a hiss.

“Okay, you ready Stels?” She nods up at him. “Alright, if you need to stop you can just say, baby.” She nods again. Cordell gives Trevor a swat on the ass to indicate he should move. The muscles in his back clench as he pushes the head of his cock inside of the wet heat he’s surely been dying to get to all night. Stella’s face scrunches up as he drives himself steadily deeper inside of her, until he’s pushed in as far as he can go. Both teens let out choked moans at the feeling of finally being this wrapped up in one another.

“Give ‘er a minute to get used to the feel of you, stay real still,” Cordell presses the head of his cock against Trevor and thrusts in shallowly, easing himself along with soft grunts, listening for any sounds of discomfort, but all he hears from the boy beneath him are small groans of pleasure. Once he’s inside, he smooths his hand up and down Trevor’s back giving him a moment to adjust as well.

His first thrust in is shallow, but it drags the head of his cock right over Trevor’s prostate and the jolt of pleasure it sends up his body grinds him forward into Stella, drawing a moan from her. She bucks up into Trevor, forcing him deeper inside of her and simultaneously pushing him back onto her daddy’s cock.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Cordell groans, thrusting harder into the tight heat wrapped around him, “show us how much you want it. Show us how greedy that little pussy is, sweetheart.”

“Fuck!” Stella pants, arching into Trevor’s hips and grinding her clit against him.

“Shit, you look so good like that darlin’. Looks so good with a cock inside her, doesn’t she?”

“Fuck yeah. Feel so good, baby, fuck,” Trevor isn’t able to move much, being pinned between Cordell and Stella, both fucking themselves harder and harder into him, but he thrusts back against Stella with push of her daddy’s dick inside of him. Cordell’s impressed the kid’s lasted this long without busting his nut yet, considering the amount of stimulation he’s currently being subjected to, and Stella looks like she’s about to tip over the edge again along with him. He fucks into them even harder, pace quickening with each piston of his hips, and he hears Stella’s whimpers climb higher and higher as Trevor is pushed into her faster with each thrust.

“You wanna cum again, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over that cock inside you like a good little slut? Yeah? You gonna be Daddy’s good little girl?” Cordell’s taunts push Trevor over his edge and he stutters in his pace, his ass clenching around the cock still fucking him as he cums inside Stella with a broken groan. Irritated, and on the cusp of his own orgasm, he pulls out of Trevor and throws him off of his daughter. Stella whines at the loss, and he can see her pussy clenching around the emptiness. “S’okay, baby girl, Daddy’s gotcha.” He pulls his condom off quickly and ruts his cock through Stella’s folds to ease his way when he pushes inside her. She’s so tight and warm and wet, Cordell knows he won’t last long himself, but he can wait until he’s taken care of his little girl, first.

“Oh god, Daddy, please,” Stella moans, pressing her hips back into the cock inside her, clearly relieved to be filled up again.

“Yeah, that’s it, honey, you fuck yourself real good on my cock. Want you to cum so hard, okay baby? Be Daddy’s perfect little slut, yeah?” Cordell lifts Stella’s ankles over his shoulders and begins a punishing pace, raking over the sweet spot inside her faster and faster on every thrust. Stella’s breath is coming in gasps so short he’s not sure she can even breathe. “C’mon baby girl, cum for your Daddy. Want you to cum for me before I fill you up. Gotta take care of you first darlin’, so c’mon, cum for me.”

Stella turns her head into her pillow and screams her release, her whole body shaking as she cums, her walls clenching hard around the cock inside her, giving Cordell exactly what he needed to fall over the edge. He seizes up bent over Stella, her legs dropping to his sides and her arms curling around him, like he was an anchor keeping her from drifting away into nothing. A small kiss placed on her forehead, and a whisper of ‘good girl, baby’, and Cordell pulls himself out slowly, groaning at the sight of his cock laced with the white of their climaxes. He flops to the side of the bed and happily makes room for Stella when she curls into his side, drawing her fingers through the hair on his chest, seemingly lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind, Butterbean?” Cordell asks, worriedly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“Just thinkin’,” she smiles serenely.

“About…?”

“About how I’m never bringing a boyfriend home to meet you again.”

Tags: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @sonofslaanesh69 @walkersbabygirl @austin-winchester67

#walker #walker fic #walker smut #walkercest #daddycest #cordell x stella #cordell walker #stella walker #walkerbingo #walker-bingo #walker bingo 2021 #anyfandomgoesbingo #afgbingo #2021 bingo

131 notes · View notes

justalarryblog · 3 years ago

Note

Hey beca! How are you? Do you have any recommendations fic like hl already in relationships, mpreg harry, they struggle to have a baby? Or arranged married? That have 100k words above? Thanks

Hi anon, thanks for the message! I'm doing fine, I hope you are too. :)

The only one I have mpreg!Harry that they struggle to have a baby is this one:

I Hope You Dance by @wickedarcher_08 (83k) | Explicit

Louis and Harry have been struggling with infertility for over a year. After many failed attempts, they decide to seek a specialist, but they end up with more than they ever dreamed.

For mpreg!Harry that is +100k words, I have:

Say Something by @kingsofeverything (105k) | Explicit

At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn’t interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

I also have a tag for Mpreg fics in case you wanna check if there's any other to your liking.

For arranged married, I've read these:

Through Eerie Chaos by @mediawhorefics (102k) | General Audiences

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Part 1 of Through Eerie Chaos

tastes like summer, smiles like may by @outropeace (47k) | Explicit

“Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?”

“There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.”

“Do you know what this means?”

Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.”

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

Praise the Mutilated World by @creamcoffeelou, @delsicle (106k) | Explicit

It was August when everything changed.

By October, the leaves changed, and so did Louis’ heart.

OR: An enemies to lovers dystopian au where Harry is an elite alpha and Louis is a rebel omega with too much to fight for. Every move made is monitored, and a fertile omega’s purpose in life is one thing: to give children to their alpha.

a dream is a wish your heart makes by orphan_account (22k) |Teen And Up Audiences

Fairytale retelling of Cinderella, where Harry is a servant boy who’s too kind, Louis is a prince in an arranged marriage, Liam is Harry’s step brother, and Niall is Louis’ dutiful grand duke.

Si Pudiera Volar by @softfonds (68k) | Explicit

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

The Murmur of Yearning by @mediawhorefics (93k) | Mature

Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised’s families. The sudden, and slightly suspicious, death of the Marquess of Haxshire, however, brings great disturbance to Crescentfield Hall and, as his late’s husband’s closest male relative, Harry unexpectedly finds himself the head of a family he never felt he belonged to. Between a meddling distant cousin hellbent on inserting himself in Harry’s life, his wicked and mistrustful mother-in-law and his late husband’s advisors refusing to help or take him seriously, Harry struggles in the fight to keep what he’s earned and make the Estate finally feel like home.

Luckily, he doesn’t stand completely alone and finds himself an unlikely ally in Mr Tomlinson, the elusive Land Stewart who has been taking care of the property in the shadows for years. Louis Tomlinson is caring, patient, and unlike everyone else, he doesn’t seem to think Harry committed a murder.

the sanctity of patience by @scrunchyharry (22k) | Teen And Up Audiences

When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. His illusions came crashing down when he understood it meant living in isolation in the alpine castle of Neuschwanstein with a husband who turned out to be far from what he had hoped for.

His illusions vanished, Harry will have learn to appreciate what has and even, perhaps, fall in love with his imperfect husband and his castle.

Winter Pines and Ocean Eyes by @binarysunsets (14k) | Teen And Up Audiences

Harry is awoken by the sudden weight of his dog across his chest, and he yawns and stretches his arms above his head, relishing the crack of his back the gesture produces and sending Fen tumbling down onto the bed. There’s a niggling sensation that he has something important to do that day, but in his still-sleepy state he’s struggling to recall what it is. When it hits him, he freezes mid-rub of his eyes, and his hand slowly falls to the furs strewn across the bed. His fingers tangle into the fur and he bites his lip.

Right. It’s that day.

The day he’s meant to travel south.

Or, the arranged marriage au between young viking Harry, son of his clan’s chief, and a certain caesar by the name of Louis, heir to the empire.

Liberté by @larriebane(64k) | Mature

AU. 1647. “Pretending you don’t have a heart is not the best way to not get it broken. It’s just the easiest.”

Or the pirate AU I always wanted to write

Teenage Rebellion Never Worked Out So Well by @panda_bear21 (55k) | Not Rated

“I’m an adult!” He glanced down at Harry, who seemed anything but at the moment, where he was definitely on the brink of a temper tantrum. “We’re both adults!” Jay glanced to Anne again, before breathing out a heavy sigh. “Yes, but you’re both adults that do not have jobs and who live off of our money… Which means, you have to do what we say… or you’ll have to find a new place to live.” “You wouldn’t do that.” Louis dared, hoping his glare was enough to guilt trip his mother into calling the whole thing off. Or to tell them that it had all just been a huge joke and they weren’t actually being forced into marrying a complete stranger. “Oh, but we would.”

Or the super cliché arranged marriage fic where things escalate way too quickly.

infinitely all for me by @swallowsmateforlife (10k)| Explicit

The Alpha Louis’ been betrothed to since he was 14 has finally come of age and Louis’ been delivered to his home.

or: the one where they figure it all out

keep me safe, keep me sane, keep me honest by @hilourry (8k) | Explicit

Louis is the Prince of England. All past omega princes and princesses have been married and pregnant at age 18, so his parents arrange him to be married to Harry Styles, the royal family’s PR guy.

Sail Across Me by @iwillpaintasongforlou (21k) | Explicit

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they're as pretty as this one.

London is well worth a mass by @dolphinaaaa (93k) | Not Rated

Louis is an Omega prince of France. When he is 13, he is betrothed to Harry of England for politics. The wedding will seal the alliance between the two coutries. This is their story.

Please feel free to check my fic tags if you want to search for other fics! Happy reading, anon!

#anon #answered #fic rec #mpreg fics #mpreg!harry #arranged marriage

33 notes · View notes

irondadfics · 4 years ago

Note

I’m looking for fanfics where Peter is Tony’s biological child and he goes missing/gets kidnapped as a young child. He is raised by someone else and doesn’t know he’s Tony’s son. I’ve already read Lost Boy and Things I Almost Remember on archive of our own and I wanted to find stories with a similar plot.

WHEW! It’s kind of a long list, but we did our best finding several fics that feature both BioDad!Tony and Peter being kidnapped at a very young age. ENJOY!!

PETER IS TONY’S SON BUT THEY WERE SEPARATED WHEN PETER WAS A CHILD REC LIST

Lost Boy by winterda

Isaac Stark disappeared from a crowded park a few months shy of his third birthday. There were never any signs of him, and no arrest were ever made in connection to the case. It was as if the toddler had simply vanished off the face of the earth. Twelve years later, Peter Parker has a really bad day, which only get worse when his prints are put through the system.

Things I Almost Remember by IcedAquarius @icedaquarius31

Peter's past is not as it appears. It all starts one day with a genetics project and slowly spirals into something Peter never could have imagined.

hydra's not a home by tempestaurora @tempestaurora

At 6 years old, the son of Tony and Pepper Stark, Peter, is kidnapped, never to be seen again. Or, so they thought. Ten years later, while raiding a HYDRA base, the Avengers come across a new, enhanced individual, working for the enemy: in black spandex, with a tendency to stick to walls and shoot webs from his wrists, the Black Spider is a pain in the ass in more ways than one.

If They Knew All About You by MsHermia

Tony Stark had lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight with nobody the wiser of what exactly happened. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high. Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. They are strangers to each other, or so they think.

Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.

------

This is an AU story obvious by some of the tags. I'm starting out a few weeks after Age of Ultron took place. Civil War will be a thing. Other than that I'm not too concerned about sticking to every canon detail and storyline.

Finding Their Way Home by ElliahRose

Peter Benjamin-Edward Stark went missing on a Tuesday. For months the entirety of the New York police department, as well as anyone else the Starks could convince to join, searched for the tot. He was only three when he was taken and for four months, two weeks, and four days, Tony Stark and Pepper Stark (nee Potts) worried and fretted over their beloved child.

Peter Benjamin-Edward Stark was murdered on a Friday. A ransom call gone wrong spelt the end of the child’s life. The world grieved as the kidnappers gleefully told the devastated parents they’d find his body in the morning.

They never did.

Twelve years passed and the family was still grieving, and Tony Stark worked tirelessly to find his only child’s killer and gain justice for his son.

Meanwhile Peter Parker was having literally the worst day ever. He just wanted to help make the world a better place, but instead he got stabbed. That's just his luck, isn't it?

missing, presumed dead by hailingstars @hailing-stars

They hadn’t had a funeral for Peter.

There hadn’t been a casket or a service inside a church.

There had been, before Tony decided in his heart that Peter was gone, candlelight vigils and pleas on the media for whoever had taken him to bring him home. Neither of those did any good. Neither of those brought Peter home.

Tony Stark's son gets kidnapped when he's two. Twelve years later he comes back.

I told you to be better (and you became the best) by HaruK

Tony was blessed with a healthy baby boy, and for once in his life, was actually happy. Until everything derailed and he had to send his son away to keep him safe, because those related to the Stark family, one of the worlds biggest and most targeted families in the black market, always end up hurt. With a new name and identity that Tony himself doesn't know, the young baby was wiped off the map, his existence erased, never to be heard of again. . Years later, Anti-hero Iron Man meets a local superhero vigilante and Tony becomes surprisingly close with young Peter Parker.

The Curly-Haired Boy In The Paper by Svn_f1ower @svn-f1ower

When Tony sees the blurry, grey scale photograph of someone he thought he had lost years ago, he follows the trail to a newspaper company, to a hospital, to an adoption agency, to the police station and finally to May Parker's house.

hold him tight & don’t let go by jessicagoddamnjones @farremoved

Peter Stark went missing when he was four years old.

Eleven years later, he’s found.

Only now he’s Peter Parker by day, Spider-Man by night, and he doesn’t like the idea that his entire life is a lie.

Rise from the Ashes; Just to See You Again by Mintstream @iwritedumbshit

Tony Stark didn't expect Mary Fitzpatrick, or the news she delivered. He didn't expect that he would become a father, or that he would actually enjoy it. He didn't expect Penny to love him just as fiercely as he did her.

He didn't expect to lose her so soon.

In the wake of the loss of his daughter he tried--tried to do right by her. He became Iron Man, he was an Avenger, he protected his world because he couldn't protect his daughter, but through it all, he hoped to be reunited with his daughter.

He didn't expect to be alive when he was.

AKA the biological daughter kidnapping AU no one asked for. Hope you read, and hope you enjoy.

Updates on Saturdays.

Coming Home by inkinmyheartandonthepage

AU – Peter Stark was kidnapped when he was just three years old. Tony and Pepper never stopped looking for their boy. Years later, Peter finds his way back home.

A Change In What We Knew by Imissyoutoo @imissyoutoo

Tony scoured the floor behind Steve as though his one-year-old son had somehow crawled to him, before finally, he looked up. The realisation dawned on him like an eclipse; the decaying darkness hiding the sun. Hiding his son. Because his boy wasn't there.

”Where is he? Steve? Where's my son Rogers?!” At only a year old, Tony Stark’s son is taken, leaving him shattered. Little does he know, his journey to find what is lost only begins twelve years later. In the most unlikely of places, and all because of two words.

”Hey kid.”

I Found You by honestchick

Tony had a son; he raised him for two years until someone kidnapped him. Tony was devastated and heartbroken. And who would have thought in Starks Expo, he’d be able to see his son once again?

move back home forever by chasingflower @evahmohns

The results say he’s not actually Peter Parker.

They say he’s Peter Stark. You know, the one who’s been missing for 10 years.

Yeah. He knows.

Soon You'll Get Better by lostinmorewaysthan1

Peter Stark was kidnapped. That was all anyone knew. He vanished into thin air, no traces left behind, when he was eight years old.

Six years later, on one of the final raids on the HYDRA bases, they find an enhanced assassin, with super strength and the ability to climb walls. No one imagined that it would be Peter. Least of all Tony.

With no memory and brainwashed by HYDRA, Peter Stark goes home and tries to recover.

Let This Road Be Mine by CommunicationFlail

Ten years ago, five year old Peter Stark disappeared. When the trail went cold, the case was closed. Now new evidence has been brought to light and Tony will stop at nothing to get his son back. No matter how many fakes he has to meet. His son is out there, and he will find him.

Return to me, the one I love so endlessly by SuperHeroTiger @superherotiger

James Edwin Stark was born on the 10th of August 2001, and for the first time in his life, Tony Stark cried tears of joy.

All the fears, all the dread that had once consumed his soul washed away with a single look at the baby’s gentle features, so familiar and yet so distinctly unique at the same time. Tony made many promises that day. Promises to love his son, to protect him, to always be there for him.

On the 10th of August 2002, James Edwin Stark was stolen in the middle of the night, and his father’s world came crashing down. Shattered and alone, Tony whispered the same promise he’d made to his son the day that he was born.

‘…My love for you is endless…’

Fourteen years later, hidden away from the world in a forest of pine, Peter Beck would dream of a day he might get to see the towering city of New York. And when a wounded stranger stumbles onto their property a week out from his birthday claiming to be a famous billionaire from New York, his dream might just come true.

Once Lost Now Found by FreckledAvenger11

Peter Parker was just trying to get used to life without his uncle. He wasn't expecting to find a familiar face in an article about Tony Stark's missing son. Follow Peter on his journey to discover just who he is. Is he Peter Parker? Is he Spider-Man? Or is he someone else entirely? Just who is he and what secrets died along with his parents in that plane crash?

So He Walks The World Alone by Miola014

This is a story 'bout a broken boy With his headphones in just to block out the noise Of everyone around him telling him the way to go So he walks the world alone Wondering if it gets better Or if he's always gonna feel empty forever So he gets lost tryna find another way back home As he walks the world alone

The Kidnapped Peter Stark AU that I promised y'all!

#fic rec list #tony is peter's biological dad #kidnapping

434 notes · View notes

ofhouseadama · 3 years ago

Note

could I dm you this? yes. but also asks are fun even though this question is mean so. how do Ed and Lorraine react to the Vietnam war?

Okay so my Ed and Lorraine are absolutely Kennedy Democrats, are both very excited and enthusiastic about the first Catholic president, but both are against the Vietnam War and US military intervention from the start. Ed's already fought in one imperialist proxy war, he's got the PTSD to prove it, and Lorraine just is truly repulsed by violence of any kind.

And also like, to go completely left field for a minute -- I've been thinking a lot about how teenage Lored were effectively trapped at 17-19 years old. Mostly financially, and in different ways. in 1951, Lorraine wouldn't have been able to have her own bank account. Women wouldn't have the right to open their own bank account until the 60s or have a credit card until the 70s -- her money would have been her father's, effectively. and while probably not maliciously, since she was a young woman she likely wouldn't have had much access to her pay checks unless she was cashing them directly. Ed, meanwhile, while trying to survive a negligent/abusive household, absolutely would have been spending money on things most teens wouldn't have to in order to survive... and that's before getting the draft notice from the Selective Service, which took away even more control of his own life.

So I see Ed and Lorraine getting married young (even for the 50s, they're a few years younger than the median, though the war was actively driving that age down) mostly out of making the most out of what they could together. Ed putting Lorraine on his bank accounts and asking her actively to manage them while he's away, and her depositing her paychecks into his account would give her more financial control in her life than most women of the era. Lorraine's engagement ring (the size of that goddamn rock) is even an insurance policy most women her age and demographic didn't have -- often when women fled marriages, it was only with their jewelry to sell. It's half about Ed's possessive streak, half him showing he's not afraid to give her the money to run, if she needed to.

Anyway -- the trauma of their late teens and early twenties is entirely rooted in the rising Cold War anxieties and the locus of harm done to women in the 50s and I fully see their pursuit of demonology and the supernatural as something Lorraine initially started while working as a secretary for the Diocese, something she did to stay late at work and help people she could physically reach while Ed was away at war. She initially started staying late on the days she knew Father Gordon would be bringing in a scared family or terrified couple or frightened soul in through the back door hours after everyone had left, staying to pray and keep herself nearby, to be an observer to a fight she could be party to. Father Gordon figures her out quickly, of course, asking what interest she has in demons and exorcisms, and figures out she's clever with records and archives, almost to an uncanny degree.

And then figures out to exactly what uncanny degree.

After Ed came home and became the husband instead of the boyfriend, it turned into something Ed could throw all his metaphorical demons onto and a healthy way to exercise his control issues and fear and anxiety that doesn't (generally) affect Lorraine because she's fighting with him side by side in this, when before they were separated by thousands of miles -- the beginning everyone's favorite Catholic battle couple very much rooted in Ed and Lorraine parsing out who brought home metaphorical demons from the war, and who brought home literal ones, and bringing them to Father Gordon when necessary. Rooted in Ed needing to be useful, to dusting off his Catholic school Latin and reading everything he could get his hands on so that he could continue to help, continue to fight.

Lorraine would have been pregnant with Judy during the heightening tensions with Cuba and as Kennedy is sending more and more military "advisors" to Vietnam and Cold War tensions flared the hottest they'd get in the 1960s and I can just see both of their control issues revving up, especially with a few-months-old baby in the mix. Just the two of them laying bed, looking down at their three month old baby girl, wondering if they'd all get nuked tomorrow. If war would be declared tomorrow. If they'd all be dead, if they brought her into the world just to die violently. It's like taking guns off the street. They can't control the White House, or the Soviets, or Cuba or China or or or -- but they know about demons, they know about spirits, they know about taking these bombs off the battlefield, in the war of good against evil, and this is a war they can be foot soldiers in together.

Lorraine would get a bit of relief in the March of '63 when Kennedy dropped married men with children to the bottom of the draft pool, and then dropped the age of the draft pool to 26, aging Ed out of the Selective Service entirely. And then in November, JFK would be assassinated, and the photo of Jackie Kennedy covered in blood, leaving the hospital hand-in-hand with RFK, would be on the front page of every newspaper in the country. It would be a jolt for both of them -- but it wouldn't fully hit Lorraine until seven years later, when she'd have her first vision of Ed's death and fully understand Jackie Kennedy's weary, "I want them to see what they have done to Jack."

After the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution in August of 1964, they fully throw themselves into taking cases almost full time. As the war heats up, Ed pulls back from teaching art classes at the VA. If he spends too much time there, he has to face how pointless the violence has been. If he spends too much time there, now, he has to face that he still doesn't know why he survived. Why he lived, and everyone else on board the ship with him died. Because he still doesn't know, he still is fighting to make his life matter in a way that makes sense to him. All he has is his sense of duty, a couple of college credits, and his hands. On good days, he knows that he's loved -- that Lorraine loves him so much it makes it hurt to breathe, that he's a good father to his daughter, who will never be afraid of him.

Ed has a complete PTSD relapse in 1966, with the beginning of the ground war and the full-throated resurgence of the American propaganda machine and military recruitment. He's back in the guilt spiral, the "I never had it that bad, I was only in the Navy for two years, I never had it that bad," just feeding into "why did I live when everyone else I fought with died," back and forth until he can't sleep, can only sleep when Judy sleeps, accidentally ends up adapting himself to her nap schedule and has to sleep with his hand on her chest, feeling her breathe.

Lorraine calls in Chief, after Ed can't get out of bed for 72 hours and misses mass for the first time in his life. Chief, who comes up from Brooklyn to remind Ed of the time their entire ship exploded and Ed treaded water for eight hours and everyone else died. How they spent the next six months getting drunk whenever they weren't on duty and picking fights they couldn't get out of, and that one time they got thrown in the brig because Chief struck a superior asshole and Ed just followed him into the fight. (No, Lorraine does not know about that time Ed and Chief ended up in the brig. She will never know about that time. Judy will at some point in her early 20s learn about that time, when she needs to learn about how her parents are people, who have absolutely made mistakes in their lives.) "You and I spent six months drunk," Chief says, bouncing Judy on his knee in the kitchen over a cup of coffee, Ed refusing to look at him as he deep cleans the stove. "And then your dad died, and your sainted wife handled everything for you, and we realized we couldn't send you home to her like that."

"I still don't know why I lived."

Chief shrugs. "It doesn't matter why, son. The same reason any of us live, and any of us die. It doesn't matter. You have a little girl now who depends on you. She matters more than any goddamn reason -- you live for her, and your saint of a wife, and for all the people that you help. So that you can look them in the face, say you've been down in the hole that they're in now, and you know the way out."

Lorraine calls in Chief, because she absolutely picked a fight after mass that day without Ed, with Judy on her hip. Overheard Dorothy O'Malley running her mouth in the pew in front of her sounding like a national security ghoul and didn't even think before she opened her mouth and unloading the full force of her anxiety and anger on her. Only stops because she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder and Father Gordon murmuring in her ear, "Okay Mrs. Warren, you've made your point," while leading her away. It's the "Mrs. Warren" instead of the familiar "Lorraine" that jolts her back to herself, kissing Judy's head as she tries to shake herself out of it.

"Thank you," she tells Father Gordon, defeated.

He shrugs. "You don't come to confession until before Friday night prayer service. I didn't want you stewing on this all week." Pausing, he takes a moment to fondly tug on one of Judy's pig tails, making her laugh. "If Ed's not... feeling well, I know about that."

Lorraine bites her lip, knowing full and well that Father Gordon served as a chaplain in World War II. That seeing the violence of the Nazis firsthand is what convinced him that the Devil was more than a metaphor, that evil truly walked the Earth. Sent him on his own path, chasing darkness.

Lorraine nods.

"I could talk to him," Father Gordon says. "But it would likely come better from someone he served with."

When she gets home, she finds Chief's number in their phone book, and calls Brooklyn for the first and last time. He comes up the next day, and shoos her out of the house to do something for herself for the first time in months, telling her that he's more than equipped to look after a single three year old.

Ed goes back to teaching at the VA a few months after that, teaching art to the new round of mentally scarred children returning from war. He concedes to group therapy, and a few sessions with the VA psychiatrist to get something to take the edge off. He teaches at the VA until the troop withdrawals in 1970, reducing his class load as he and Lorraine take on more and more cases -- verging towards a hundred a year -- for the Catholic Church, and the media attention that comes along with that, the publicity engagements that help keep their bills paid, the articles and academic talks.

Even still, Ed occasionally brings home someone for dinner, just to make sure that they've only brought metaphorical demons home from war with them, not literal ones.

Sometimes it's literal ones.

#ask #rikertroi #otp: i forgot my pills #emily watches the conjuring #i cannot believe that Sam was just like #''I am going to give Emily an excuse to use her degree and hurt people''#this got... so very long

21 notes · View notes

postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 4 years ago

Text

And now I’ve watched episode 3 of Walker because of reasons. (You guys asked, that’s reasons.) #2

If you guys haven’t seen part 1, go see it immediately. Because of reasons. This time, reasons is Slutty Glitter Cowboy Stripper. No, it’s not a joke.

Yeah, I’m not sure what’s happening either.

I can’t believe they’re airing cowboy strippers in Supernatural’s air slot and Dean Winchester isn’t there. I think this is why they had to kill Dean, because otherwise he would have ripped through the CW’s show layout and appeared in Walker sponteneously, instantly adopting Walker’s entire family and friends as his own and single-handedly implementing the depolicement of the state of Texas, with Castiel rolling his eyes at him in the background while he murders ICE agents at the US-Mexican border.

*slides the CW a twenty euro bill* so I have an idea for season 2 of Walker

Anyway, there’s this lady Walker and Ramirez are doing a stakeout on, a woman called Torreto who is presumably part of some criminal organization since they’re doing a stakeout on her, and who’s bisexual given she was being entertained by a lady and a guy at a strip club. Which is like, fine, not problematic at all, alright.

So the stripper straddles her and is like ~wanna come with me in the back, and she’s like ~maybe another time, and he’s like ~torreto i saw cops outside you probably wanna come to the back with me, and she’s like ~mmm yeah that sounds like a good idea. We were rooting for you, slutty glitter cowboy stripper! We were all rooting for you! Or not.

Meanwhile, Walker has horrible car manners.

Also, he asks her how her parents were to her growing up, which is a question you normally ask to people you’re not close to when you want to do some small talk. For some reason she brings up a friend she had some ~crazy teen years~ with, called Garrison, which doesn’t make me think of angels in Supernatural, no, I am a normal person.

But then people start coming out of the strip club, but not Torreto. So they go in.

Torreto is not there, so Walker just stops the first person he sees and he’s literally like ~excuse me, do you know if there’s someone in the back. The visual is hilarious

“Excuse me, sir, have you seen my brother from another show, I suspect he might be here”

Give me a spinoff about this strip club.

Anyway, the guys answers, “No, why, you two interested?” to which they immediately answer “no!” at the same time, and share a look which makes me think we’re supposed to be like ~~ooh, talking in unison moment! or something...?

Meanwhile their truck gets stolen, and Walker yells that his bobblehead is in there. Cue disgruntled Jared face.

Oh man. We are at the title card. It’s less than 6 minutes. This will never end.

It was night, now it’s day, and Stella and August are walking around Austin. He’s mimicking David Attenborough, describing the teenagers around them as though he was doing a documentary about animals.

Two girls approach them, bringing up a party that’s taking place tomorrow. She says it’s not the best idea with her court date approaching. The girls are like, your dad can figure something out, he’s an elite ranger or something and also owes you for disappearing for a year. She’s like, he’s being kind of cool, I don’t want to ruin this, and the girls “call BS” because this is like “the best party of the year”.

Ruby, the girl August has been hanging out with, appears and August goes from “nah the party is not my thing” to “I’ll totally be there” in like 0.02 seconds.

I cannot overstate how much I am not interested in high schooler drama.

Meanwhile, at the Walker Seniors’ place, Walker’s parents are preparing the table for a family dinner. From their banter we can infer someone’s who ~is like family although he isn’t “blood”~ is coming for dinner and Grandpa Walker doesn’t like him at all and actually expects the guy to steal their china and bourbon. “It’s been years, could you please give him a chance?” Grandma Walker says, and he accepts, although she grabs the fancy bourbon from behind his back.

Meanwhile, at the police station, all the cops are having a briefing about Torreto, the woman at the strip club. She apparently steals weapons all over Texas and sells them over the border at triple the cost. Remember that Torreto escaped from Walker and Ramirez because she stole their truck while they were inside the strip club. Ramirez is worried she’ll already become the laughingstock of the precinct.

Uh. James plays security camera footage from outside the strip club. Walker and Ramirez’ truck was stolen by Torreto and the cowboy stripper himself.

Obviously the other cops laugh when Ramirez admits it was her truck.

James tells them to find Torreto, find the truck, and find out who the naked cowboy is.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Then Walker drives home, and as soon as he gets out of his car, you know how in the Supernatural pilot Dean gets into Sam’s apartment and wrestles him before revealing it’s him to ~test if his fighting skills are rusty and laughs when Sam realizes it’s him? Alright, now think intensely and guess how Walker’s like-a-brother best friend is introduced. Think intensely! It’s really difficult to guess!

Something something about violence and male intimacy except this is too ridiculous to, you know, write something serious about it.

“Oh, man!” the guy laughs, lying on the ground where Walker threw him. “The look on your face!”

“You son of a-”

“Oh, c’mon man, don’t talk bad of a mother I never knew.”

I’m facepalming soooo hard. This is the first thing we learn about him (well, after the fact that he definitely stole something from the Walkers’ house in the past), that he never knew his mother!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

GUYS

I AM SO SORRY

I am faceblind I didn’t realize

THE GUY IS THE STRIPPER

I REPEAT

THE “DEAN BUT IN JARED PADALECKI’S MIND” CHARACTER IS THE SLUTTY GLITTER COWBOY STRIPPER

THIS IS NOT A DRILL

I SWEAR MY HANDS ARE COLD AND CLAMMY

I AM EXPERIENCING EMOTIONS NO WORDS EXIST IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE TO DESCRIBE

Oh my god guys. I am so sorry.

“You did your touchdown victory dance before you stole my partner’s truck!” Walker exclaims. “I should arrest you right here and right now!”

The guy acts like he has no idea what Walker is talking about, and says he’s in town to see his best pal.

Walker keeps accusing him, but then his mother appears, super thrilled to see him, and Walker lets is go.

They’re at dinner (NotDean brought wagyu steaks, which obviously means he does crime for a living) and Walker’s mother tells him to say grace, which he does in a semi-serious, semi-mocking way. Obviously NotDean does not believe in god, but he’s grateful for the people around him.

Stella calls him uncle, in case you missed that this is supposed to be a friend whom Walker loves likeabrother.

He talks about jobs he did here and there, and Walker and his brother tease him asking if he’s been to some prisons around the country. Stella doesn’t get the joke and NotDean explains it to her, adding, “now, from what I hear, I’m not the only outlaw in this family”. Grandpa Walker leaves the room.

NotDean asks Stella if she’s going to the bonfire (the party they were talking about earlier) and tells her that her mother started the thing when they were young. She didn’t know that. This is supposed to be a Meaningful moment.

Meanwhile the stolen truck is found... at Walker’s ranch. Gasp! What a shocking turn of events.

NotDean gives Stella advice on how to act in court to get on the judge’s good graces, “which means acting”. “Please don’t get legal advice from a criminal” walker’s brother Liam says. Is the gay brother also a NotDean of sorts, to be fair? Well, CriminalNotDean tells her to dress her best and cry. ActualbrotherNotDean tells her to use the correct legal arguments. Walker just stops them, quoting something Ramirez said earlier in the episode, “nobody benefits from the easy route”. Stella is like, what does that mean, which, mood, but Grandma Walker interrupts bringing in a plate of different hot chilis. Apparently they have a tradition of a competition. Which we don’t even see. Boo.

Ramirez finds the truck... right outside the Walkers’ house. Grandpa Walker, who’d gone outside, points a rifle to her and she explains what she’s doing there. They introduce themselves and she is like, sir why is the man who stole my truck inside your house? “Wife invited him to dinner.”

She’s like, I need to arrest him. But he’s like, I bet there’s not enough evidence to arrest him, or my son would have done it. Join me for steak and burbon in the bunkhouse! As one does. So they have wagyu and bourbon together, and she asks him what’s the guy’s story.

So NotDean and Walker grew up together, NotDean had a rough life, “my wife has a soft spot for strays, she can’t give up on him”. But Grandpa Walker doesn’t feel the same. He tells her that she cannot arrest him tonight, but it’s only a matter of time before the guy gives her enough rope. He adds that Walker has a blind spot for faces from the past, and needs someone to fix that.

Meanwhile dinner’s over and NotDean calls a uber. He and Walker arrange to meet the next day and hang out like old times. Eventually, Walker tells him that if he is involved in this case, he will have to take him down. “Theoretically, if you catch me.” They do a manly hug with manly pats, and the guy leaves. “Theoretically, go to hell,” Walker says after he’s left.

The next day, NotDean brings Walker to a storage in the middle of nowhere... full of cursed objects, no wait, wrong show. What’s inside the storage is the red Mustang. Walker is shocked that he hasn’t lost it in some bet - which apparently is how he got the car from Walker in the first place. Now NotDean says that, after everything Walker’s been through, he deserves a chance to win it back.

Glowy flashback of Walker and his wife in the car, right after the scene in the beginning of the episode. They bet it during poker night, decision of Emily, because Walker is “starting to get attached to her”. Emily teases him for calling the car a she, and Walker decides to call the car Stella.

They gave their daughter the name of a car they lost at poker.

Oh. She tells him she’s pregnant.

So, apparently, they had their first daughter when they were broke, to the point they had to try and get money at poker for a bigger place and baby things. That’s... kind of irresponsible.

Meamwhile, Ramirez goes to James to tell him about the thing, but James already figured NotDean was involved, because apparently stealing things and returning them is just something he does. “Why are you so calm about this?” she asks. He says because they cannot pin anything on him. Questioning him could scare the big crime lady. So he tells her to just keep an eye on him. “Walker, Torreto or Hoyt [NotDean]” she asks. “Yes” he answers.

Blah blah. I apologize, I’m being too detailed. I’m just bored by this. Ah, a butcher’s truck was stolen right after the strip club thing, guess where NotDean got the wagyu steaks.

Walker and NotDean go to the bar with the bartender who’s their friend, and NotDean flirts with her. They start playing poker, when Ramirez arrives, and has some banter with NotDean and spills some glitter on him that she found in the truck. He buys her a drink and she arrests him for trying to bribe a police officer. Walker is shocked.

At the precinct, he says they cannot prove he’s working with big crime lady. But she brings up he stole the wagyu steaks.

She calls him out for trying to be everyone’s friend even if they do something wrong, also with Stella.

She says she can hold NotDean for 24 hours, long enough to figure out the big crime lady’s plans. Common trope in cop shows. Arrest someone without proof, you have to release them after 24 hours, but the cop finds proof and bam, forgiven for arresting someone without proof.

I know you’re bored, I’m bored too.

Actually, nope, it goes differently and kind of worse. In the interrogation room, Ramirez offers NotDean a deal: he tells her where the big crime lady’s weapon deal is happening, and walks free. He points the location on a map and he compliments her. Walker is watching from the cameras and is shook.

Meanwhile the bonfire is happening, and Stella is there with her girl friends. So is August, breakdancing to impress girls. We don’t care.

Meanwhile, a lot of cops in serious cop gear surround the location NotDean pointed at. Nobody’s there, though.

What is there, is the red Mustang with the creepy bobblehead in it and a letter from NotDean that says he gives him the car back because it was always his wife’s.

Walker figures out where the deal is actually happening - the storage where the red Mustang was before.

Meanwhile, at the bonfire, August is drunk on booze he stole from Grandpa Walker and brought to the party. He asks Stella if she’s trying to drive their father away, breaking the law and all, he asks if she wants him to leave again. Then he throws up. She calls Walker but he obviously doesn’t answer. So she calls her uncle, who’s doing shopping with his partner or something. They’re buying cake? Doing cake testing for their wedding? Maybe.

Meanwhile, NotDean calls Grandma Walker to tell her he cannot go mushroom hunting with her tomorrow but needs to leave town, and he’s sorry to let her down again. She tells him that just because his family’s bad, doesn’t mean he is too. “You saved my boy, and I’ll never forget that” she says. Oooh, that’s so intriguing!, nobody says. They share a cute moment and then he hangs up, while the weapon deal goes down around him.

Uncle Liam and his partner pick up the kids, and Stella asks him if he’ll be in court with her tomorrow. He says he can’t, because it’s her father’s decision to make.

August turns up music and they all sing in the car. It’s funny how everyone’s got better chemistry with everyone else except with Walker. I know it’s, like, on purpose for plot reasons, but still, Walker’s interactions with everyone feel so stilted compared to anyone else. And it’s not the other characters are that compelling.

The police arrives at the location of the weapon deal, and NotDean gets arrested trying to steal the truck again. Ramirez gives a speech how that’s hard but it’s the right thing to do. Walker makes a comment about tough love, implying Stella needs to get that too.

The next day, they leave for Stella’s court thing on the red Mustang. It took Walker three episodes, but now they also have a cool classic car to show off! Yay! *eyeroll*

Meanwhile, Grandma Walker and Grandpa Walker have a conversation about their failing marriage or something.

Ramirez goes to the bar to apologize to the bartender for arresting NotDean. They have a drink together and if lesbians were watching this they’d start shipping them, but no lesbians are watching this. They’re wiser than me.

Stella got like a gazillion hours of community service and her license suspended. She’s upset, but since she has her license for one more day he teaches her how to drive the Mustang.

Wait. Americans don’t learn to drive normal cars when they get their license?? They only learn to drive cars with automatic gear?? What the hell??

They drive while August runs after the car to get over his hangover or something.

Would be a cute moment if the entire thing wasn’t so cheesy and weird.

Well. We know NotDean is a recurring role so we’ll see more of him. (Well, I’m not sure I will be there to watch, because this is boring af.)

This episode used all its interest coins in the strip club scene and then became dreadfully boring. I don’t even have some witty line to close this post.

This was a rollercoaster that went my brain go through a blender in the first six minutes or so and then killed the remaining braincells through boredom.

That’s it guys. What can I say. This is the CW’s Walker. Yee.

#marghe watches walker for some darned reason #cw's jared: legit texan

84 notes · View notes

milstrim · 4 years ago

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 2: Right Through You

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"I'm sorry." It was the last thing Spider-Man said before he swung away, swallowed by the darkness of an alleyway. It was a whimpered choke. Fearful.

"No! Wait--" Tony tried to call, but it was too late. The man was gone. No. Not a man. A fifteen year old. Tony glanced down at his shadow and then back at where Spider-Man had disappeared. Spider-Man was his soulmate. And he was fifteen. Tony had to catch himself against the wall as his chest squeezed painfully tight and his throat closed up in panic, barely managing to mutter out, "Jesus Christ. Fifteen."

That was horrifying on an entirely different level than what had just transpired. Not only had his soulmate flinched away from him and then run off the first chance he'd gotten, he was swinging around the streets of New York and putting himself in danger and he was a kid. Did his parents know? Maybe that was why the kid had run off so quickly. He'd freaked out so horribly when he'd realized the time that Tony had to blink away the horrible memories of his own father with his backhanded slaps and harsh words that had stung even more.

Tony sucked in a cold breath as he stared at the spilled hot chocolate mixing with his own dropped coffee. How often had Spider-Man been hurt? On the street or at home? Suddenly all Tony knew was terror at the implication and newfound knowledge of just exactly who his soul was connected to. Just who the shadow that had been with him for fifteen years really had been. And all he knew was the horrible guilt that he clearly wasn't what his soulmate had been looking for. Could soulmates be wrong? Knowing himself, it was possible.

The mechanic shook his head furiously, forcing himself to stop leaning on the wall and take a deep breath. He'd found his soulmate--sort of--and he wasn't about to just let them go that easily. If he could just have one good conversation, preferably without that mask, about their connection, everything would be okay. Or, it could at least be resolved. If the kid didn't want to know him, didn't want to be his soulmate--well...

Tony sniffed, snatching the cups off of the pavement and throwing them in the trash. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Tony began to make his way back to the tower, his steps slow and stumbled, eyes fixated on his shadow whenever it came into view. After a few minutes, the hood disappeared and fuzzy hair took its place. Well, now he knew why his shadow always looked like they were bald in the afternoon and at night.

"Friday," Tony started, his glasses lighting up at the call of his voice. "I need a full search of the city. As in-depth as you can get it. Follow Spider-Man, look for his identity, and focus on kids born on August tenth, 2001."

"There are six hundred thirteen people born on that day currently living in New York."

"Okay, filter out for boys in Queens. Between 5'7" and 5'9."" He paused, thinking about the fingers that he'd seen through Spider-Man's gloves. "Lighter skin, too."

"I have forty-two possible matches."

"Well, it's better than six hundred," Tony sniffed. "Keep an eye on them, and keep a special eye on Spidey. If he looks like he's in a situation he can't handle, alert me. Or just tell me the next time he pops up."

"Of course, sir," Friday agreed. "What shall I file this under?"

Tony mused for a moment. "Create a new file, and place it on my private server. Name it 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider.'"

Hopefully he'd have a face to that protocol soon.

---

Peter stumbled up to the front door of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, his breaths quick and furious as he scrambled for a decision. After escaping from Mr. Stark's disappointment, he'd fled across the bridge and eventually found an alleyway to change into where his spidey sense had finally calmed down. Cameras were following Peter now wherever he went as Spider-Man now, he was sure, so he'd had to be painfully and slowly careful. Finding an alleyway out of the sight of any cameras had been simple enough, but it would be relatively easy for Mr. Stark to triangulate his location, so Peter had changed and thrown on a hood and forced himself to become lost in the New York crowd of people on the night shift or party-goers higher than a kite.

So far, the teenager thought he'd managed to get away with it, but he'd have to be more careful about when he went out if he didn't want Mr. Stark to find out who he was. The man already seemed disappointed to find out his soulmate was Spider-Man, he couldn't imagine what realizing it was actually Peter Parker would do to him.

Peter swallowed down the trepidation that bubbled under his skin in boiled anxiety as he shuffled in front of the door to the group home. Maybe Mr. Fowler hadn't realized he was late and he could try and sneak in through the window instead of being caught outside the door. Then again, if he did know, he was likely waiting for Peter to slip in that way and catch him red-handed. The real question was what would end in less punishment?

The teenager's musings were cut short by a spike in spidey sense and the wrenching open of the chipped red door, bringing with it the dangerous stench of stale beer. Mr. Fowler's displeased grin froze Peter to the floor in terror until an outstretched hand reached out and gripped his arm in a vice. "You're late."

Peter held back a wince as he was pulled in through the door, forcing himself to stumble along as the door was slammed shut behind him, rattling the old building. Mr. Fowler dragged him towards the dining room as he rushed to apologize. "Sorry, Mr. Fowler. I--I didn't mean to! I just got caught up on the subway and my phone died and--"

"I've heard that one before," the man snapped. Peter's jaw clamped shut with an audible click. He bit his tongue to keep his feeble excuses from escaping as he was pushed into a chair roughly. The man's hand gripped onto Peter's shoulder painfully tightly, but the liquor on his breath kept the boy glued to the chair more obediently than anything else. "Now where have you actually been, Peter?"

"I-I didn't mean to be late," he tried again. "I was just--"

There was a harsh smack to the back of his head, whipping it forward. Peter winced, but it didn't really hurt, so he forced himself to sit still. He was fine. Mr. Fowler couldn't really hurt him, and even if he did, it didn't matter. Peter would heal. Every bruise he'd ever gotten here had always been gone by the morning.

"Enough with the excuses, Pete," Mr. Fowler ordered. "I just need an answer for the report now that I have to write up your next strike."

Peter flinched. The system at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was extremely strict. Three strikes and you're out. Peter already had one strike when Mr. Fowler had caught him sneaking an extra snack after dinner. He'd been drunk then too.

Four strikes meant that Peter would be moved to another home for "troubled teens." That he'd attend another school and have to forge a new system of being Spider-Man. And, most importantly, it meant he'd be leaving the younger kids here to Mr. Fowler's wrath by themselves. Peter was the second oldest at the group home of six. Jeremiah was the oldest, but he'd be aging out in barely a month, leaving Peter to try and take care of the others, all no older than twelve.

Peter would heal, they wouldn't. It was as easy as that. But it didn't seem like Peter was going to escape this strike and that he'd have to be careful about even thinking about patrolling for a few weeks. Then again, with Mr. Stark possibly looking for him, maybe it was for the best. And it would just be for a little bit. Just a little bit.

There was a horrible shiver up the teenager's spine, and Peter had to force himself to stay still as there was another slap to his head, this one harder than before. He bit his lip as Mr. Fowler leaned in closer, the staleness of liquor on his breath making the boy's nose crinkle in barely concealed disgust.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, son," Mr. Fowler sneered. "Failure to do so can end in another strike, y'know. Two in one day and you'll be shipped off to Jersey tomorrow morning. So?"

Peter took a deep breath through his nose and grit his teeth. He knew what the man wanted to hear. What he wanted to put in Peter's file. It seemed to be a personal pleasure of his to fuck with his file, and all the other boys' really, as much as humanly possible.

"I was out goofing off with some friends. We were smoking and throwing cans at cars and I lost track of time."

Mr. Fowler tutted. "So irresponsible, Pete. I will have to write that up, y'know, and you'll receive the usual grounding. One week. Now why don't you go and head to bed?"

It wasn't a question, so Peter stood shakily and forced himself near the stairs, knowing better than to ask if he'd get some kind of food before he went to sleep. He wouldn't be getting any dinner for the entirety of his grounding anyway. Peter was lucky that he got away without any bruises, instead only escaping with a dull pain in the back of his head.

He slipped up the stairs and into the room he shared with Jeremiah and Tim. Jeremiah had his back turned to Peter, clearly just fixed to keep his head down for the next month, but Tim was sat up straight in bed, bright black eyes staring at Peter in awed worry. The teenager forced himself to look away, instinctively turning to his dull shadow but snapping away from that as well to stare at his bed instead.

"Go to sleep, Tim. You have school tomorrow."

"But, Peter--"

"Go to sleep, Tim," he said again, a little more forcefully this time. Tim stared at him for another painful moment before slipping down under his covers and turning to face the wall opposite Peter. It dragged a stone of guilt into his stomach, but Peter just couldn't at the moment. Even as he changed out of his ratty clothes into even rattier pajamas, the new knowledge of who his shadow really was wouldn't leave.

Peter turned the light off in the hall and closed the door to him and the other boys' room, grateful for the first time in his life to see his shadow disappear. He knew he was being just a little ridiculous, it wasn't like Mr. Stark hated him or anything, at least, Peter didn't think he did. But, well, the teenager was exactly that; a teenager. One that was poor and alone and had superpowers that he used to do little good deeds around his neighborhood. And Mr. Stark was Mr. Stark. The universe had to have been wrong this one time.

And what was worse was that Peter had just run away. He'd acted like an overdramatic romcom character when discovering that their soulmate was the quarterback they hated or something. It was possibly the worst part of all of this.

Peter kept in a sigh as he dropped onto his old mattress, pulling the lumpy covers over himself and squeezed his eyes shut in a half-assed attempt to bully out the pain of hunger in his stomach and the ache of undeserved longing in his heart. He so desperately wanted to be able to know his soulmate, but there was no way that Mr. Stark would be excited to actually know him. Besides, Mr. Stark pushed the Accords, and Peter was an unlicensed vigilante on the street. It was the man's job to find out who he was and turn him in.

Being soulmates didn't change that, even as his vision flashed to show a dark and fancy lab. Well, now he knew why his soulmate had always had such nice stuff.

---

"You what?"

"I found my soulmate," Tony snipped. "Keep up, honey bear. You're losing your touch, old man."

Rhodey ignored his comment, still staring at Tony from where he sat on a box in the Avengers common room that was probably filled with either dishes or Avengers gear. Tony passed the colonel a horribly green smoothie that he accepted without complaint, still staring at Tony but this time with a wide smile on his face.

"You really found him? Just walking around Manhattan?" Rhodey asked.

"Well, technically someone was trying to kidnap me, but sure."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Relax. Everything turned out fine since my soulmate showed up."

Rhodey gave him a look, eyes glancing from the billionaire to the short shadow on the ground. "Your soulmate who is fifteen, saved you from a kidnapping?"

"Well, yeah. But he's got superpowers, so I don't think it was much of a sweat for him."

"Super--who the hell is your soulmate? Is this Twenty Questions? First guess: Ant Man."

"Hardy har," Tony joked. "No, not Lang. It's the spider kid."

Rhodey paused. "You have no idea who he is, do you?"

Tony shrugged, twirling the straw of his own green smoothie for a slight distraction from the fact that his soulmate had flinched and then ran away from him. It had kept him up with an anxiety-filled kind of drive as he'd tried to pick out which of the kid's was his little shadow. He'd only managed to weed out a few of the kids of the forty-something.

"No. He, uh, ran away. Friday's on the job looking for him right now, but he's a slippery one, 'cause, uh, no luck so far."

"I'm sorry, man," Rhodey apologized. "That sucks. Do you...do you know why he ran?"

"Something about a curfew."

"Then maybe he'll be out soon looking for you. Once school is out for the day, of course."

"Yeah. Maybe," Tony agreed, but he thought differently. The shake in the kid's voice, the flinch as he'd ducked away from Tony's hand, and the horrible defensive tenseness when he'd looked away from their switched shadows to look at him. He didn't think Spidey was exactly thrilled, or that he'd be looking for a way to tell the billionaire exactly who he was.

"Any flashes?" Rhodey asked. Tony hummed in confusion. "Since you realized you were soulmates?"

"Oh, uh, just a room last night. I don't know, it was pretty hard to make out." Tony had turned off all the lights in his lab once he'd arrived in it, hoping for some kind of flash of where his soulmate was. It had been reassuring to see the connection still intact, but it wasn't like the dark and bare bedroom had been much help. "I think he has siblings or something. There was another bed in there. Oh, add that to the search engine, Friday."

"Of course, sir. Now down to twenty-eight kids."

Tony smiled. Maybe he was actually getting somewhere.

---

"You what?"

"Shut up, Ned," Peter shushed, curling forward in another sit-up to hiss at his best friend who was staring at him in amazement. Ned didn't seem deterred in the slightest, but at least his voice dropped to match Peter's hushed whisper.

"I can't shut up. I'll never be able to shut up again! You met Tony Stark last night! This is the greatest day of my life."

"It really wasn't that big of a deal," Peter lied. He had conveniently left out the part where the billionaire was his soulmate, and considering Ned's reaction of his just meeting the guy, Peter was going to keep that to himself for the time being. Or forever. Whichever came first. Ned continued to stare at him in astonishment, and Peter relented as he curled up again. "Okay, it was pretty cool. He bought me a drink."

"What, like a beer?"

"No, Ned, a hot chocolate."

"Ohhh. That makes more sense."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "And keep it down. Please? I don't need anyone thinking I drank last night. Mr. Fowler already put a new load of bullshit on my record and you know all the teachers get updates on the shit I do."

Ned's eyes darkened. "He gave you another strike?"

"Yeah," Peter panted, curling up faster as anxiety pumped underneath his skin. "My fault. Stupid. Shouldn't have been late."

"How late were you?"

"Like, ten minutes I think."

Ned spluttered, "But it was just ten minutes!"

"Mr. Fowler's a rule stickler," he half-truthed. Ned didn't need to know how shitty his group home leader was. "I'll just have to be more careful for a while and get back on his good side." Like Mr. Fowler had a good side. "It'll be fine in another week or two."

Ned clearly wanted to protest more, his friend was always so suspicious of Mr. Fowler and so insistent that Peter should just tell the man that he was Spider-Man and that he was helping people. Well, Ned thought they should tell everyone that he was Spider-Man, clearly thinking that it would help him get away with late assignments or missing curfew, but really it would only succeed in him getting arrested. Besides, now that Mr. Stark might be looking for him, he was determined more than ever to keep his identity safe.

Coach Wilson passed by, complementing, "Looking good, Parker."

Peter slowed down, faking a tired grimace and just wishing with every fiber of his being that PE would be over soon.

"So I guess that's a no on Liz's party, then?" Ned asked. Peter turned away from watching Coach Wilson walk away to stare at his friend.

"Liz is having a party?"

"Yeah? She talked about it last decathlon practice. Were you not paying attention?"

"I guess not. My bad," he mumbled. "Is it tonight?"

"Yeah, but you're probably in trouble aren't you?"

"Yeah," Peter agreed, thinking about the dinner he was going to miss tonight. Then again, if he went to the party, not only would Liz be there, but there'd probably be some snacks too. "But my curfew doesn't change."

"It doesn't?"

"I don't think it ever will. Like I said, Mr. Fowler is a stickler for rules, and the curfew is his favorite. It's completely unmovable in his mind."

"Weird."

"Yeah. He's pretty strange," Peter agreed. "So, what time tonight?"

"Seven, I think. And anyway, remember my idea about telling everyone that you're--"

"No, Ned. We're not telling people that I'm--" he lowered his voice dramatically, "--that I'm Spider-Man."

Ned pouted. "Fine. But could you, I don't know, appear as Spider-Man?"

"What? Why?"

"C'mon! Think about how cool it would be if you dropped down and were like, 'Hey, Ned! Whattup? Where's my buddy, Peter? 'Cause we're besties and I'm a cool superhero!' Wouldn't that be cool!?"

Peter stared.

"Ned, literally no one cares about Spider--"

"Now, see, for me, it would be F Thor, marry Iron Man, and kill Hulk," came the voice of the girl's sitting on the bleachers. Peter and Ned turned to listen.

"Well, what about the Spider-Man?" Charles asked.

"It’s just Spider-Man," Betty replied. Peter raised an eyebrow at Ned in a way that meant, See?

"Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys," Liz argued, her voice climbing just a little higher. Peter's eyes widened.

"Oh my God, she’s crushing on Spider-Man."

"No way."

Liz shrugged, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. "Kind of?"

Peter turned back to Ned. "Yeah. Okay, sure, I'll bring the suit."

---

"Thank you, Mrs. Leeds!" Peter called, waving at the woman through her beat up green Toyota. She waved back at him and Ned with a cheery smile.

"See you two boys later! I'll be back at nine to make sure you're home on time, Peter."

"Thank you!" he said again as she drove off.

"Bye, Mom!" Ned said. There were a few looks sent their way, but Peter didn't really care. Even when Flash liked to humiliate him in front of the other kids at school, Peter never felt more than surface level embarrassment. He was past the point of caring about high school drama, but Ned ducked his head nervously, readjusting his new hat. His friend turned to him and whispered, "Dude, you have the suit right?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Peter gestured to his backpack. "Yeah."

"This is gonna change our lives," Ned squeed as they stepped up the driveway. Liz had a large house on a well-lit street in the suburbs. He could see even more colorful lights inside, just as bright as the music was, and anxiety rolled in his chest. He didn't care about what other people thought of him, he really didn't, but he couldn't stop the nerves at such an unfamiliar environment.

Peter stared down at his shadow on instinct, searching for comfort in the familiar fluffy hair. Catching himself, he forced himself to turn away and stare forward as he stepped through the door behind Ned.

He almost stumbled back as the noise hit him. There was the movement of chatter and the blaring of shitty and loud music. Peter stared as some girls walked past, swallowing nervously as his gaze went from them, to Flash DJ-ing, and then landing on Michelle, who glared at them as she spread jam on a piece of toast.

"Can’t believe you guys are at this lame party," she said. Peter frowned in confusion.

"But you’re here too," Ned said, confused hesitation taking up his voice.

"Am I?" And then she stalked away. Peter and Ned glanced at each other in confusion.

Ned recovered first, tapping his backpack. "Okay, anyway, we’re gonna have Spider-Man swing in, say you guys are tight, and then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro-hugs and--"

"Oh, my gosh!"

Ned was cut off as Peter turned away from him to look at Liz. Redness flushed onto his cheeks as she approached them with a wide smile and a red cup in her hand.

"Hey, guys. Cool hat, Ned."

"Hi, Liz," Ned said with a wave.

"Hi, Liz," he said, cursing himself as his voice broke immediately.

"I’m so happy you guys came. There’s pizza and drinks. Help yourself."

Peter's stomach rumbled at the thought, but he forced it down with a smile and a warbled, "What a great party."

"Thanks," Liz smiled. There was the shattering of glass, making her turn sheepishly. "Oh, I... My parents will kill me if anything’s broken. I gotta--"

"Yeah."

"Have fun," she said, hurrying away. Ned turned to him furiously, gesturing to where the senior had left.

"Dude, what are you doing? She’s here. Spider it up."

Like a flip had been switched, Peter remembered that Iron Man was probably looking for him. No way he could get away with showing himself at a high school party. This would be all over social media in barely an hour. "No, no, no. I can’t... I cannot do this. Spider-Man is not a party trick, okay? Look, I’m just gonna...be myself."

"Peter, no one wants that."

"Dude," Peter snapped, but even as he walked away, he knew it was true. He thought of the image of Mr. Stark's face when he'd realized they were soulmates.

Now more than a little out of it, the teenager finally made his way through the house, searching desperately for wherever the pizza was. He didn't make it very far down the hall when there was the screech of his name over a microphone.

"Penis Parker, what’s up?!" Flash yelled over the microphone. People turned to stare at Peter and Ned, sneers or sympathetic smiles decorating their faces. Peter tensed, glancing over to Ned. "Thought you were stuck at the group home! And didn't you know you were supposed to dress nicely for a party?"

Ned gave Peter a look, and that was how the superpowered teen ended up on the roof in his shitty superhero costume with his mask in hand as he chewed his lip in jittered fear.

"Hey, what’s up?" he said in a deepened voice, grabbing his mask from the bag and straightening it out. "I’m Spider-Man. Just thought I’d swing by and say hello to my buddy Peter. Oh, what’s up, Ned? Hey, where’s Peter, anyways? He must be around..." Peter sighed, dropping his hands and digging his fingers into the mask as his brows furrowed. "God, this is stupid. What am I doing?"

Peter stared from the roof down at where Ned was waiting, looking around anxiously, his friend's shadow bright underneath the lights. He glanced out of the corner of his eye down at where his own was scrunched beside him, wondering what Mr. Stark was doing right now. Maybe he was doing cool Iron Man stuff in the lab he'd had a flash of. Maybe...maybe he was wondering what Peter was doing too.

Just as he was about to sigh about how unlikely that was, there was the sound of a distant crash and a plume of bright blue. He began to push himself up, leaning forward to try and get a better look at the thing as his senses rang.

"What the hell?"

Peter stuffed on his mask and swung away, making his way through the neighborhood. After running across an embarrassingly long golf course, the sprinklers biting against his skin with the freezing water, he finally arrived at where he'd seen the blue smoke. Spider-Man dipped himself low, clinging to a small bridge and popping his head around the corner.

There were three men, a broken down old car, and a classic kidnapper white van. Peter watched as one guy whooped at the explosion that burst out from the weapon in his hand against the car. The two other men cringed back as he flinched at the bright light. The man returned to the van, putting the gun down and grabbing another one. It looked extremely similar to the one that had been used against Mr. Stark last night.

"Now, this is crafted from a reclaimed sub-Ultron arm straight from Sokovia. Here. You try."

The guy passed the weird arm-gun to the man with curly hair, who examined it in confused disdain. "Man, I wanted something low-key. Why are you trying to upsell me, man?"

"Okay, okay, okay. I got what you need, all right?" the guy placated, moving back to look through the van. "I got tons of great stuff here. One sec. Okay, I got, uh, black hole grenades, Chitauri railguns..."

"You letting off shots in public now? Hurry up," the tallest one warned. He stepped up to the curly haired guy. The buyer, Peter guessed. "Look, times are changing. We’re the only ones selling these high tech weapons."

"Oh, so this is where bad guys are getting their stuff," Peter whispered to his shadow out of habit. He shook his head, glaring forward and away from where Mr. Stark's silhouette extended.

"I need something to stick up somebody. I’m not trying to shoot them back in time," the buyer complained.

"I got anti-grav climbers," the guy at the van suggested. That seemed to finally get the third man's attention.

"Yo, climbers?"

And then, of course, Peter's phone rang. Immediately guns were drawn, clicking towards the buyer as Peter tore his phone out of his pocket, almost swearing as he caught sight of Ned's caller ID and shutting it off.

"Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Did you set us up?"

"Hey, hey, man."

His senses ringing, Peter dropped from the bridge, catching the men's attention. "Hey! Hey, come on. You gonna shoot at somebody, shoot at me."

"All right."

The gun clicked towards him. Peter shot a web, tearing the gun away, and then ran forward. His senses spiked and then pain jolted through Peter as something bright smashed against his face. It launched the teenager straight into the leg of the bridge, the concrete crumpling under his force. He groaned in pain, forcing himself onto his elbows.

"What the hell?" he muttered. The revving of an engine tore his head to where the van was beginning to drive off. He shot a web to the back of the van, attempting to stick to the ground but only succeeding in being dragged away and onto the harsh road, eliciting a surprised yelp from the high schooler.

Spider-Man shot another web in an attempt to right his balance, gritting his teeth as the road tore at his skin. The van dragged him around, swerving intentionally and smacking Peter through at least five trash cans before finally losing him into a pillar of solid brick. He groaned in pain even as he pushed himself to his feet and shot another web. It attached to the door, ripping it to the ground with a metal screech. Peter threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Great! Guess I'm gonna have to take a shortcut."

Peter leaped over a car into a yard and then a few more yards. At least there was a cute dog, but he wished he'd had more time to play with it.

The superhero stumbled along after scaring a couple of girls--his bad, but they'd get over it eventually. Hopefully--diving over a fence and skimming over a pool in a crowd of people that stared at him in gawked surprise. He called, "Great movie!" before swinging up with a tree and landing just a little too hard on a nearby roof. He panted heavily even as he kept going. He caught sight of the white van.

"Almost got you," he said to himself. "Thought you got away from me, didn’t you? I got you right where I want you. Surprise!"

Finally close enough, Peter leaped from the roof. His spine shivered, his hairs raised, and his heart leaped in fear as metal claws clamped down around him. Peter screamed hoarsely, twisting in midair as he was propelled away from the ground at a frightening speed. "AgH! What the hell!!??"

Peter barely took in the large wings, instead focusing on digging his hands around the metal claws clenched around his ankle. Whoever the bird guy was, he certainly didn't appreciate it. Haunting green eyes met Peter's wide white. His heart beat rapidly. How high up was he? The ground below looked so tiny. At least there was water under him.

And then he wasn't so thankful as the metal digging into his feet released all of the sudden. Peter screamed as he fell, twisting in midair as he searched desperately for an escape. The water underneath him grew closer and closer and there was nothing for Peter to grab onto. Nothing to web. Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no--

Peter slapped against the surface. All the air was forced from his lungs as he was carried under by the lapping waves.

---

"Sir--" Friday started. Tony didn't look up from where he was writing out code that he'd been pouring over for hours, going through every idea and web combination imaginable.

"Please don't turn down my music, honey," Tony said, swiveling in his rolly chair and wheeling over to the table where the webs he was in the process of replicating were beginning to formulate. He was on his fourth attempt now, and he was getting close. "I'm working."

"I am operating under the Itsy Bitsy Spider protocol."

Tony readjusted his glasses, turning away from where he was stirring the sticky formula to glance at the hologram of the suit. He'd been wondering when the kid would show up again. He hadn't been out all afternoon. "Yeah? What's up?"

In response, Friday popped up a video. It was clearly shot through a phone, shakily recording the kid skimming off of a pool before launching himself in the air. It dragged an amused smile from Tony, but it dropped as the next video played.

This one was clearly a security camera from the suburbs. The video was only a couple seconds long as a shuddering white van sped past the house, smoke flying from behind it. There was a bright purple shot and then Tony finally managed to catch sight of the bright red and blue suit being dragged along. Tony turned to his shadow, staring at where the hood was pulled up.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into now, kid?" he asked it. "How old is this video?"

"Barely a minute."

Tony glanced at the unfinished suit and then back at the video playing on a loop. He guessed the suit would have to wait.

"Get me Mark Forty-Eight and take me to where this video was taken. Quickly, dear."

The suit activated across the room, stepping out of its case and allowing for Tony to be covered by it. The screen lit up immediately, his path highlighted to where the nearest window had opened. Tony shot out into the New York night, his heart beating rapidly. The kid had to be okay, right? He probably dealt with weird shit all the time.

The thought didn't stop the mechanic from being nervous. The kid was fifteen after all. He wasn't exactly equipped for this kind of thing.

It took barely a couple of minutes for Tony to arrive at the street where the video had been taken. There was a burn mark on the road, but no Spidey, and no sign of that van. He hovered, scanning for where the kid could be.

"Heat signatures, Fri. Give me something to work with."

His screen lit up, orange and red figures milling about in houses. There were a few people walking streets over, a car roving by slowly, a clash of body heat that made him think of a party, and a red dot hurtling out of the air ever closer to the river. Wait--

Tony fixated on where the red dot was slowly approaching the water, his heart pounding. "What is that? Friday, zoom in."

The video clipped towards the red dot, and Tony gasped as he recognized a body twisting through the air. And not just any body.

Spidey.

His thrusters whined before forcing the suit forward towards the dot that had disappeared from view. He turned in air, hovering over the body of water, before glancing down with a fearful swallow. A heat signature was illuminated.

"Kid," he gasped.

Tony dove down immediately and broke through the water's surface. It was dark underneath, but he could make out where the kid was. He wrapped his metal arms under the kid's armpits before shooting back into the blissfully cold air.

"I've got you, kid. I've got you."

Spidey didn't respond.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #tony stark #peter parker #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #irondad and spiderson #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker

36 notes · View notes

ulalumewitch · 3 years ago

Text

this was originally inspired by the prompt “The Pet” by @capriprompts … part 3 finally address the prompt proper and my version of it. hope you enjoy!

Author’s Note: This story deals with disappointments during the adoption process as well as references to parental deaths during childhood. Some readers may find this triggering. I hope I handled it with the care and sensitivity it deserves.

This is part 3 (and final part). The links to Part 1 and Part 2 are below:

https://ulalumewitch.tumblr.com/post/658329277505421312/betty-part-1

https://ulalumewitch.tumblr.com/post/658355318446800896/betty-part-1

(not sure why they both read “part 1” but i swear the second one is part 2. one day i’ll figure all this out - lol)

word count: 2,590

themes: angst and fluff

hope you enjoy - i just love these two.

“Betty: Part 3”

Damen frowned as he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. He looked passed the living room and to the balcony. Autumn finally broke through the summer heat, but despite the chilly temperatures, Laurent had remained outside on the balcony. For over an hour.

He’d been there when Damen got home at dinner. Laurent refused to eat, stated he wasn’t hungry, and turned away from him. Damen didn’t push him. After eight years together he knew which battles to pick, and he knew if he picked this one, he would lose.

His stomach fluttered with nerves. Damen wanted to speak to Laurent about what was coming before it got here. He tapped his phone screen again. No new messages. Dammit, Jokaste.

The woman was always late. While he hated lying to Laurent these past few days, he felt it necessary. He’d never lied to him before and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to repeat. But he wanted this to be a surprise if only so that Laurent couldn’t argue himself out of it. This would be good for them. Damen was sure of it. Well ... mostly sure of it.

Damen opened up his text messages waiting for replies. The texts from the people he talked to most in his life waiting for responses he couldn’t muster himself to give at the moment.

Papa Theo - D. Kastor wants to host Thanksgiving this year. Don’t let him take over. You and Laurent are better hosts. I’m begging you. Do what you have to. If I have to eat salmon on crackers again instead of turkey because Jokaste thinks it’s en vogue or whatever her high snobby ass thinks, I’ll lose it. Thank you. Papa.

Auguste - Laurent keeps ignoring my calls. Everything okay?

Kastor - Bro, Knicks game next weekend?

Nik - Knicks game next weekend? Text Kas for info.

Nicaise - Tell Laurent to call Auguste before I kill them both.

Jokaste - I’ll text you once I’ve valeted with the package.

The text from Jokaste was from two hours ago. It was only a fifteen minute drive between their apartments. But Damen knew from experience if he pressured her she’d delay herself more.

But for the past few days Jokaste was oddly ... maternal. She’d listened without spewing unwanted advice and helped him find exactly what he wanted, pulling strings from a few of the charities she’d help fund over the years. He’d never been so happy she spent money and drank wine for a living.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Damen let out a shaking breath as the text from Jokaste finally came through: The eagle has landed. We’re on our way up.

Damen took a breath and replied back: Laurent is out on the balcony. Door is unlocked. If we’re still outside please wait in the office until I get you. He’s ... not himself right now.

Damen held his breath. It could go one of two ways with Jokaste. Either she would understand or she would say she was too busy and leave the surprise in the living room before walking out.

His phone buzzed: Ok

He let the breath he’d been holding out and resolutely walked around the breakfast bar and to the balcony. Damen opened the glass door and gritted his teeth against the blast of cold wind to his face. Laurent remained sitting in his chair, bundled up in a huge knit sweater, scarf, coat, and hat that left only his eyes visible. He didn’t move as Damen approached. Laurent didn’t even look at him.

Damen’s heart pounded in his chest. Did something else happen? Had he forgotten something important? He and Laurent never had a problem communicating until recently and it killed him. This had to end. And now.

“Laurent,” Damen said.

No movement. No glance of acknowledgement. Nothing.

The wind picked up and howled as if in warning from the gods themselves against the building. Damen grabbed a chair a swung it around directly in front of Laurent and then sat down. Two narrowed eyes of blue ice cut to Damen then.

“You’re blocking my view.”

“Laurent, I know this has been hard -“

“I’m not talking about this. Leave me alone.”

Damen took a breath. He was in a worse mood then he thought. Shit.

“Listen to me. Okay? Just listen.”

Laurent leaned back slightly and with a small flourish of his hand indicated for Damen to proceed before crossing his arms over his chest. Damen took a calming breath and looked away at the same view to steady himself.

“I don’t know how much you’re hurting, because I’m not you. But I’m hurting too. It’s difficult. It’s painful. It’s unfair, and ugly, and all of the things you hope to never experience,” Damen stated, “But we’ll get through this. We will have our family, Laurent. Yes, things are bleak right now but we can’t give up because somewhere out there is our son or daughter. Maybe they’re not born yet, maybe they are. But we don’t give up because that’s not what we do.

“We didn’t give up on each other. Hell, you spent your entire inheritance to start a firm with a man you weren’t even married to yet. You helped raise your younger brother when you were still technically a child yourself because the worst nightmare for children happened. You fought your way through school and internships all while spending hours volunteering with children’s programs when most of us in law school could barely keep up with the average demands. You are a fighter, Laurent. You can’t give up now. Please, don’t give up now.”

Laurent’s eyes flickered for a moment as he regarded Damen silently. He didn’t move a single muscle. He also didn’t respond.

Damen took in a shuddering breath, “I love you. I’m sorry life isn’t as we want it right now. I will keep fighting for it, but I need you with me.”

Laurent still looked at him with cool neutrality as he asked, “Where were you this week, Damianos?”

Damen’s heart lurched in his chest. Oh God ... Damen had known better than to lie to Laurent. But he did it anyway because he’d been giddy at the thought of the surprise now waiting for them in their apartment. Apparently Laurent’s foul mood had been exacerbated because of him. Goddammit this was not how he wanted this to go either.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Damen cleared his throat, “I’m sorry I lied to you. But if you come inside I’ll show you why. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Laurent huffed, “I’m not in the mood for surprises or apologies. Now, leave me alone.”

“No.”

Laurent’s nostrils flared as he shot up and gracefully moved around him to the door. Damen cursed under his breath as he went after Laurent. Before he could think he caught his arm as they entered the living room.

“Let go,” Laurent growled.

“I was with Jokaste,” Damen surged ahead, “I needed her connections to get something for you and me to expand our family in a different way until our child comes home.”

Laurent stilled. Damen immediately let go of his arm.

Laurent turned, his blue eyes glittering with fury, as he hissed, “What did you do?”

Damen ignored the churning in his stomach and called out, “Bring her out, Jokaste.”

From the other side of the apartment the sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed around them. Then, Jokaste came into view. Her gold hair pulled back, her makeup made her look more devastatingly beautiful than was natural. Her designer clothes understated but somehow still reeked of money - and in her arms she held a basket with pink padding. And within that, a small puppy yipped happily, wagging her tail.

Damen looked at his husband. Laurent’s mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide and staring. Damen took a step closer to him until they were nearly touching but not quite.

Damen murmured, “She’s a King Charles Beagle mix. Her owners were older and couldn’t care for her so they put her up for adoption. She’s twelve weeks old, spayed, up to date on vaccines, and mostly housebroken. Jokaste put word out to the charities for animal adoption she’s helped fundraise for over the years, and then one of her connections emailed her about this beauty. I’ve been meeting with Jokaste to spend time with the puppy and then more recently to finish paperwork on her, as well as visit dog training centers and to research their puppy programs.”

He stopped. Laurent still didn’t respond, though he’d since closed his mouth, his eyes on the puppy in the basket. The white and tan puppy yipped excitedly seeming only to have eyes for Laurent. Damen’s chest ached slightly ... it was like she knew.

“I wanted to talk to you about it earlier but you needed time alone,” Damen whispered, “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be a little bit of a surprise but not this much. Also, if you don’t want her I understand. Jokaste will keep her instead so she’ll have a good home. But ... but I thought it would be nice for us to have a pet to take care of, to start expanding our family this way until ... until we can get what we want. She’s part beagle, so I imagine she’ll utterly lose her mind with happiness on the farm. But again, Laurent, if it’s too much, Jokaste will take her home, no questions asked. It’s up to you.”

Laurent swallowed and Damen heard his throat click as he did so. His face unreadable as he took a step towards Jokaste and the puppy. As he walked towards her, Damen stayed in place, but didn’t suppress the smile as the puppy began to yip louder, and bounced on her front paws the closer Laurent got to her.

“She’s high energy,” Jokaste murmured, “But she does love to cuddle. I think she likes you.”

Laurent remained silent as he brought his fingers up to the puppy. She immediately began to lick them, her tail wagging at such a rate Damen wondered if it possible for the thing to fly off of her. Then, tentatively, Laurent stroked her head. The puppy stopped bouncing but remained with her eyes on Laurent, tail wagging, as he pet her. Damen’s gut lurched as he saw the slight tremor in Laurent’s hand every time he lifted it up to resume stroking her down her back.

Then Laurent picked her up and held her against his chest. The puppy reached up and licked his face. Laurent pursed his lips together but Damen swore a smile was there before he was assaulted with puppy kisses. He cradled her against him, her fur a stark contrast against the black coat he still wore.

When she settled Laurent looked at Damen. He felt Laurent’s stare go through him and straight into his soul.

“Her name is Betty Rue Vere-Akielon,” Laurent announced.

Damen grinned, “Your obsession with the Golden Girls prevails once again.”

Laurent looked at the puppy and whispered, “They are fierce and so are you.”

The puppy licked Laurent’s face happily in response yipping gleefully. Damen cut his eyes to Jokaste and she smiled softly at him.

“I’m going to go,” Jokaste stated, “Have a good evening.”

“Thank you,” Damen said.

She dipped her chin slightly in acknowledgement and left. Damen walked over to Laurent and sat next to him as he set Betty on the ground. The puppy ran over both of their legs as Laurent removed his scarf and jacket, discarding both on the floor behind them.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Damen whispered.

Laurent cut his eyes to him before focusing on the puppy again, and said, “Forgiven. I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment.”

Damen huffed a laugh, “No you’re not.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Laurent’s lips and he said, “I missed having a dog. We had one when I was a little boy but she passed away just before our parents.”

Damen nodded and said, “They estimate she shouldn’t be more than twenty-five or thirty pounds. Both breeds are good with children. Training is a necessity. But, but I think she’ll fit in well.”

“She’s perfect,” Laurent cooed and picked her up again to hold her to his chest, and then looked at Damen, his smile finally wide and unrestrained, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Damen said, “I know this doesn’t fix anything, but I thought it would help.”

Laurent leaned closer to him and then pressed his lips softly to Damen’s. He closed his eyes and when Laurent went to retreat, grabbed the back of his head and kept their mouths firmly in place. Damen deepened the kiss, needing the contact, reveling in the taste of them together.

“I love you,” Damen whispered breathlessly, “I love you and I’m here for you. Through good times and bad.”

Laurent smiled softly, “I love you, too. Thank you for ... thank you.”

Damen slipped an arm around Laurent’s waist and pulled him closer. Laurent could talk circles around anyone. But when it came to expressing feelings, he still sometimes had difficulty. But Damen didn’t mind. Laurent loved Damen in ways that went well beyond the words, as it should be.

“Oops,” Laurent tittered, “Betty, darling, we must work on that bladder control. Come on, lets go for a little walk. Does she have a leash?”

Damen smiled, “Everything is stashed in the office, including a couple of different coats for her since it’s getting colder outside.”

Laurent snorted a little and stood up saying, “I’ll get her collar, leash, and coat on. You can clean up the mess.”

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Damen asked.

“Please tell me you bought her a collar and leash to distinguish her as the royalty she is and that it matches whatever clothing you got for her to wear,” Laurent called as he walked away from Damen without looking back or responding to his question.

Damen rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath before stating, “No, because I knew you’d hate anything I bought anyway.”

Laurent’s snort echoed as he made his way down the hall.

Damen smiled even as he cleaned up the puppy’s accident as he heard Laurent’s murmurs to the puppy, “Don’t worry, Betty, daddy is going to get you the most expensive collar, leash, and puppy coats money can buy. Papa doesn’t understand the importance of these things. What do you think pink with diamonds? Yes, I think so too ... or maybe a gold collar to compliment your white and tan coloring? Yes ... we’ll try a few on ...”

The pain of the rejection began to ease slightly in Damen’s heart. He knew it would take more time and more than a puppy for it to heal completely. But his gamble paid off and he reveled in the warm relief that coursed through his veins.

He and Laurent had work to do, but the dark cloud of anguish seemed to lift from over their heads. And as Damen put on his coat and grabbed Laurent’s from off the floor, he smiled as he walked down the hall as Laurent’s lament echoed loudly from the office, “Oh my God, was this made for peasant puppies? Nylon? Really?”

But Damen didn’t mind. He’d endure any cutting remarks on his sense of puppy fashion if it meant his beloved had a respite from his pain. Things weren’t perfect, but it was still a damn good place to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ End of this Little Story

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. They are one of the many ships I love to follow and write about. have a lovely day, morning, evening, night wherever you are! xo

#captive prince fanfic #writing prompt #modern au #lamen #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #jokaste

10 notes · View notes

judediangelo75 · 4 years ago

Text

The Unknown Face of My Past

So, um hi everyone! I doubt a lot of people will be reading this (seeing how this is mad long...) but this a little fanfic/headcanon I have for my MC from Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery and the resident bird, Talbott Winger. My character’s name is Judith Harris, I can submit a bio on her if you guys wanna know more about her.

I have a headcanon where Talbott and Judith met in the past (unoriginal I know) but their parents knew of each other too. So this would be their backstory.

I hope you guys would give this a chance and like it. I have a few songs as background music to listen to (and I find it fitting in general) from Choices. Let me know what you guys think and feel free to ask questions!

Before meeting for the first time at Hogwarts, Judith and Talbott actually met before. History running deeper than either of them realized.

Kendrick Harris and Ava Evans were actually close friends before either of their children were born.

Both were sorted into Ravenclaw, but never formerly spoken to each other for their first few years there.

Kendrick was what most people call, the "strong, silent type". He spent a lot of time alone and wouldn't entertain any bullying Slytherins or Gryffindors, stepping in to fend them off but nothing more.

He preferred his solitude, until he properly met Ava.

It wasn't until their fourth year, they've properly met.

Ava was flying over a grassy meadow where she spotted Kendrick with a magical creature. She landed a few feet away, curious to why the silent Ravenclaw was out here.

Kendrick regarded the swan with an arched brow for a few moments before Samson, his Porlock, let out a distrustful huff. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously until Ava transformed back. Samson went to hide under his robes, slightly startled.

The witch looked a little nervous under Kendrick's calculating gaze.

"You're an Animagus..." came the statement after a few moments of silence. Ava was a bit surprised to hear Kendrick speak.

And his voice.

There was a surprisingly thick accent there, something she never heard before. But it wasn't unpleasant.

"I am..." Kendrick hummed thoughtfully.

"Impressive... Ava, correct?" The young witch nodded.

"Kendrick," the teen introduced himself. Ava let out a soft giggle at this.

"Nice to meet you, Kendrick." Ava and Kendrick seem to hit it off well. Even playing with Samson, once the young Porlock grew used to Ava, while Ava asked more about the silent giant of her House.

So it became a routine for them.

Some time after their classes, they would spend some time together. Whether it be a study session or a trip to see Kendrick's magical creatures. Samson being Ava's favorite, see how cute the little horse guardian was.

Ava even dragging Kendrick to attend a ball with her as her guest. There was no romantic feelings towards each other, but it was assumed by many.

Even a Hufflepuff by the name of Trent Winger.

He silently been pining after the young witch with light brown eyes before the end of their third year. She helped him study for their Herbology final for the year and he found himself lovestruck by end of their tutoring session. Though, Trent felt a bit imitated by the Ravenclaw with sharp gold eyes. Seeing them dance together at the ball made his heart ache, thinking he'll never get a chance to be with the beautiful Animagus who effortlessly stole his heart.

It wasn't until 5th year the two young men formally met in their Care of Magical Creatures class. The Hufflepuff did his best not to sweat under Kendrick's cold gaze as he approached him.

"Trent Winger, correct?" The hesitate nod was the only thing the young man in question could muster. Kendrick gave a small smirk.

"Nice to meet you Trent. I'm Kendrick and Ava's best friend." Trent blinked owlishly at him. Best friend? So that means-

"I've been noticing how you would look at Ava most of last year and I'll help you get with her under one condition..." Trent swallowed.

"And what's that?" Kendrick's smirk grew bigger.

"Just promise me that I get to be your best man at your wedding..."

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

Time passed.

Making good on his word, Kendrick was able to gently push the two together. Which wasn't hard, seeing how Ava found the Hufflepuff to be rather enduring.

They all eventually all graduated.

Ava and Kendrick were able to land a job at Saint Mungo's Hospital as Healers while Trent worked for the Daily Prophet not too long after. About five years after graduation, Trent finally got down on one knee and proposed to the love of his life. Kendrick never felt prouder to stand by his old friend's side as he tried to fight back his tears as Ava made her down the aisle with her father.

It was most definitely one of his proudest moments. Rarely anyone has seen him at his lowest.

Like when Ava and Trent caught Kendrick in Honeydukes with a little boy with the same gold eyes as him years later.

It was a secret that he kept from them, not because he didn't trust them. They were his oldest friends.

No, it was because he was stupid.

There was a witch he was dating by the name of Sade Cadet. She was a former Slytherin at Hogwarts who had a lingering crush on the stoic Ravenclaw. They crossed paths and starting dating. Kendrick thought Sade was a nice young woman but wasn't sure about their relationship the more she worked in the Ministry.

He was considering on breaking things off with her. It wasn't until she came to his home one day, looking nervous. Where she told him that she was pregnant.

A hasty marriage and nine months later, on February 9th, 1963, Jamal Harris was born. Kendrick and Sade adored their newborn son, but Kendrick was plagued with guilt. He knew that he didn't truly love his new wife the way he was suppose to. And he felt like he done something wrong, bringing in a child to what feels like a loveless marriage.

When his two friends caught him, he admitted his shame. He felt especially worse because he knew the two were trying for children but remained childless. He didn't want to come off as ungrateful for having such lively and healthy son.

He truly loved his son, if only he could do the same for his wife.

Ava reassured her best friend that he was far from what he thought he was, encouraging him to do the best he can in the present situation, while remaining true to himself. Kendrick hugged his friend, grateful for having her.

More time has passed. Little Jamal grew older as the adults went about their life the best they could.

Until Ava and Trent sent an urgent Howler to Kendrick, urging him to come to visit as soon as possible. Kendrick made haste to the Winger house, anxious to hear the news. He stood in disbelief as Ava eagerly informed him that she was pregnant. Kendrick never felt happier for the couple before him as they both lay a hand over Ava's slight bump.

It wasn't until about a month and half later, Kendrick gave Ava news of his own.

He was expecting another child.

The two were happy to be expanding their families.

Months go by and Kendrick's demeanor grew sad. A 7-month pregnant Ava questioned her best friend during their break at work. Knowing he couldn't hide anything from her, Kendrick admitted that he was feeling homesick.

Kendrick told Ava about his homeland, Barbados, when they were still students and hasn't seen his homeland since they graduated. He told her he was thinking about going back.

Ava was a bit heartbroken to hear this news.

But she valued her dear friend's happiness. She said he should go back, just a long as he promised to write. Kendrick smiled and thanked the expecting mother.

Kendrick gave his resignation about a month later. He and his family took a Muggle flight to Barbados. Ava and Trent there to see their old friend off. They noticed how slightly disgruntled Sade was, who was just roughly 6 and half months pregnant, but didn't comment on it.

Ava cried once they were finally gone, already missing her best friend.

She didn't remain sad for long because a little over a month later, on August 14, 1972, her dear son Talbott Winger was born. She cried happily at how beautiful her son was. He inherited her hair and had his father's red eyes. She happily wrote to Kendrick, gushing over her new son. Kendrick wrote back, congratulating the couple and hoped to see the little boy for himself soon.

A few days after October 17, Kendrick sent a letter talking about the birth of his daughter, Judith Harris. Jokingly telling Ava that she could give Talbott a run for his money in the cute department.

The two adults had this playful argument for many letters until Ava decided she wanted to see her dear friend again.

A year and half the two were born, Ava and Trent decided to take some time off of work to surprise their old friend at his mother's home. Mercy, being a Seer, saw them coming and had Kendrick clean out the guest room before their arrival, much to the confusion of her son.

"Surprise!" Kendrick blinked at the smiling faces of his two friends as he opened the door one night.

"Wha... what are you two doing here," he asked, letting them in.

"We came to see you silly! It's been too long, Kendrick!" Ava chuckled, hugging her best friend. The scarred man chuckled and returned the hug. He was happy to show them around his childhood home and introduced them to his aging mother, Mercy. Mercy was pleased to meet the couple, her kind gold eyes warm with happiness.

"So, where is she?" Ava asked with a teasing smile, eager to meet the little girl that seem to have Kendrick wrapped around her little finger.

“Tomorrow. Judith tends to be grouchy if she’s disturbed,” Kendrick chuckled. Ava pouted and Trent chuckled hearing this.

“She sounds likes a mini version of you, old friend,” Trent teased, holding his sleeping son. Kendrick smirked at the comment.

The next day, Kendrick carefully opened the door to his little girl's room, who was already sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

The man chuckled at the cute sight and walked up to her bed, placing a kiss on her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. The girl leaned into the solid warmth that was her Papa as she was scooped up and lead to her restroom so she freshen up. After making sure was properly bathed and her teeth were nice and clean, he added some coconut and coco butter lotion to her skin and dressed her in a cute white strapless dress and gold little gladiator sandals. He added a little white bow to her growing coily curly hair to finish her look.

"My little princess," he cooed at his baby girl, which caused her to giggle. Picking up the girl again, he went to kitchen to get a pack of mangos and banana baby food blend and an apple for himself before they went out on their morning walk.

While they were gone, Ava and Trent woke up and got themselves ready for the day before waking up their son. The little boy felt a little distorted thanks to the time change, but put up minimum fuss as he was bathed and dressed. A simple dark blue shirt with a feather on the front, white shorts and brown sandals.

The Winger family were eating breakfast, courtesy of Mercy, when the Harris pair returned.

Kendrick, dressed a dark green tank top and black gym shorts smirked at his two friends openly stared at what seem to be a carbon female copy of himself that he hugged close to his broad chest.

"OH MY GOODNESS! SHE ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE!" Judith, who was playing with her father's shark tooth necklace, flinched at the sudden squeal and looked at the three new people in her home.

Ava stared at the little girl with heart eyes and Trent chuckled, now understanding what Kendrick's look meant from last night. Sade literally gave birth to a female Kendrick. A few differences here and there but there was no denying that she was his daughter.

Talbott stared at the very tall man and small girl in his arms from his father's lap, curious.

"Say hi, baby girl," Kendrick encouraged the little girl. Judith shrunk into his chest a little before waving and giving a soft hello. Ava cooed at the cute little girl, causing the girl's father to chuckle.

"Judith is rather quiet, and shy. It would take a bit for her to get use to you," Kendrick said. Ava said that wasn't an issue, for they had a good few weeks off from work. As the adults talked, Judith and Talbott were looking at each other. Both signaled to their respective parents to be put down. The adults watched as the two walked up to one another, studying each other.

"Pwetty..." Talbott said, touching the bow in the little girl's hair. Judith giggled shyly, taking the little boy's hand and leading him to her little corner with all her toys.

"That has to be the most adorable thing I've ever seen," Ava deadpanned as she watched the two children play. The men let out a laugh.

"If I didn't know better, Talbott may have a small crush on your daughter, Kendrick," Trent chuckled.

Kendrick looked thoughtful at the idea.

Ever since his baby girl was born, he swore to protect her from everyone, even from boys. He was gonna be her only love for as long as possible. But he wouldn't oppose if his old friends' son took an interest his daughter. He knows that young boy would be brought up to be kind and respectable, a gentleman.

The type of man he would want for his daughter.

"If he still likes her when he's older, I wouldn't object," Kendrick said with a chuckle. Ava clapped her hands eagerly.

"Oooooo, that would be a dream come true! They're already so cute together, can you imagine if they were older?"

‘Not yet,’ Kendrick silently thought as he gazed as his little girl. He didn't want time to pass so quickly, watching her grow up before his eyes, and eventually having to hand her off to Talbott at their wedding. He was just fine with being the only man in her world and Talbott is just considered as a nice playmate...

"Let's save that for when they're older," Trent said, doing his best to soothe his eager wife, who was probably already planning their son's wedding as they speak.

The two children played until their eyes grew heavy. Judith crawled onto the couch, where her blanket laid for when she wish to nap. Talbott followed, curious to what his new friend was doing. The little girl looked down at her blanket and back at the red eyed boy before scooting over and draping half of her blanket over his shoulders. The two cuddled up and drifted off, unaware of the smiling adults watching them.

During those few weeks, Talbott and Judith grew close. When it was time for the Wingers to go, the two were unwilling to separate. The adults watched as the little ones hugged each other goodbye, Ava doing her best not to tear up at the painfully cute sight, and made a promise to bring the two together soon.

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

Time went on. Many years would pass before Talbott and Judith were reunited. Obviously, neither of them remembered each other since they were partially babies but the pull was still there.

"Papa, what are we doing here?" A 7-year-old Judith asked as she looked up at her giant of a father early one Saturday morning.

They were standing in front of a house she never seen before. Well granted, she only been in Britain for a few weeks, so there isn't much that she's seen. The man regarded his little girl with one of his signature smirks as he knocked on the door.

"We're gonna meet some of my old friends, baby girl. Plus there's someone I would like for you to meet," he informed his little girl. Judith furrowed her brows at this.

Someone to meet?

The door opened to revealed a woman in her early 40s with pretty long hair and kind light brown eyes.

"Kendrick! Oh my goodness, it's been too long!" The woman hugged her father with the biggest smiles on her face. The woman was very beautiful, she even a pretty white feather clipped into her hair. Judith watched the interaction behind her Papa's leg, still feeling quite shy.

Coming to Britain isn't something she found pleasant.

She felt like an outsider in what was suppose to be her new home. Some of the adults would give her judging looks that remain her of her mother, especially with her hair, which was in long locs that reached her lower back. The kids would make fun of her looks and her thick accent, which is why she remains quiet majority of the time.

"Is this who I think it is?" A melodious voice snapped Judith out of her thoughts as she found herself looking into light brown eyes. Judith flinched and clenched at her father's pant leg tighter. Kendrick gave the girl an encouraging smile and gently pushed her from behind him.

"Judith, this is my best friend, Ava Winger. Say hi, baby girl," Kendrick said softly to his little girl, giving her shoulder a small squeeze of encouragement. Judith looked up at her father and then at Ava.

'She seems nice...' the little girl concluded.

"H-Hello, Mrs. Winger. I-It's n-nice to meet y-you..." The girl felt her face flush when she realized that she stuttered.

Her mother told her to stop that habit when speaking to adults, and she already messed up. Just as she was ready to hide behind her father again, Mrs. Winger let out a giggle.

"It's nice to meet you too, Judith. Please call me Ava," the woman, Ava, said, smile still in place.

Judith pursed her lips, slightly conflicted.

Her mother told her to address adults as Mr., Miss, or Mrs. as a way of showing respect to adults. She never had one tell her to call them by first name, and she didn't want to disrespect anyone...

She looked up to her dad, silently pleading for help. Kendrick did his best to hide his frown.

'Sade...' he thought with disdain. His wife wasn't pleased with how he raised their daughter and taken upon herself to train the girl to be a "proper, British witch in Britain wizarding society". Or whatever the hell that meant.

He just sees how his baby girl is more shy and unsure about herself.

"It's okay, Judith," he said with a smile. The girl looked back at Ava.

"Okay, Ava," she said slowly. The woman giggled.

"Is Trent around," Kendrick asked his old friend. Ava shook her head.

"No, he was called to fix an article that another writer botched. But Talbott is here." Judith cocked her head at the name. Talbott...?

Ava caught this and smiled.

"Would you like to meet Talbott, Judith?" Judith shuffled her feet, unsure. She didn't want to be rude, especially since Ava is so nice to her...

"S-sure..." The adults smirked, silently eager to see this development.

"Talbott, sweetie! Will you come here, please? There some people I would like to meet," Ava called.

Coming out from a room that may of been the kitchen, was a boy.

Judith backed up and clenched at her Papa's pant leg again.

She didn't have the best track record with dealing with boys that weren't Jamal or his best friend, Jonah. Boys were the main ones who picked on her for her size when she wants to play with them.

The boy, Talbott, walked up next to his mum, regarding the two new people with a calculating gaze.

"Talbott, this is Kendrick Harris. He's my best friend from when I went to school. And his daughter, Judith," His mum introduced the pair. The man, Kendrick, regarded him with a kind smirk, his sharp gold eyes filled with amusement. He had an interesting necklace on, with a tooth that he hasn't seen from any animal he read about.

"Nice to see you again, Talbott. It feels like just yesterday when I meet you when you still a toddler," Kendrick greeted. Talbott blushed at this.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Harris," he said politely. The man chuckled.

"Please, call me Kendrick. I'm not that old," he joked. A soft laugh was heard and Talbott looked towards the girl, clinging onto her father's leg.

Judith, at least that's the name his mum said.

Judith stopped giggling once she noticed that Talbott was looking at her now. Normally, she would be a little nervous but...

Something was different about Talbott...

Talbott was thinking similar thoughts. He rarely likes the idea of being around other kids, but...

For some reason, Judith was an exception...

Something felt familiar...

Both were thrusted out of their train of thought when their parents pushed them closer. They were now standing right in front of each other. Judith fidgeted, toying with a loc. They took in each other's appearance.

Judith's brown black hair was down, the sides were pulled back into a small ponytail to reveal her face. A simple sleeveless black dress hugged her body, flaring out at the hips and stopping above her knees. Black gladiator sandals covered her feet. A thick black chain was around her neck, holding a blue and silver ring.

Talbott's hair a bit more free, a few strands falling over his forehead while the rest was pulled back into a low ponytail. A regular white T-shirt hugged his torso, tan shorts on his legs and dark brown sandals on his feet.

Neither has said a word and the adults could only watch on.

"You're pretty," Talbott finally said. Judith's eyes widen at this admission.

No one but her father, brother and grandmother called her that before.

"R-really," she quietly asked, a blush staining her face. Talbott blushed a bit as well and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Y-yeah," Talbott confessed honestly, taking note of the foreign, but pretty accent in her voice. Judith smiled.

"Thank you..." Kendrick smiled and Ava was doing her best not to fangirl. Talbott was thoughtful for a moment.

"You wanna come outside and play with me," he asked. Judith's eyes sparkled with excitement and she looked at up at her Papa, silently asking for permission. The man laughed gently.

"Go on and have fun baby girl," he said. Talbott took Judith's hand and lead her outside.

"Looks like that answers tha- Ava, what are you doing?" Kendrick turned from the direction the children went to his best friend who was writing something in a notebook.

"Kendrick, you think red and gold would be a good color scheme for their wedding," Ava asked. Kendrick did his best to keep a straight face.

"Ava, they're 7 about to be 8 in a few months."

"So?!"

"So, let me enjoy having Judith as my little girl!"

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

"So, what do you want to do Talbott," Judith asked. Talbott looked thoughtful.

"How about tag," he offered. The girl nodded eagerly, happy to have a new playmate. But she noticed the hesitant look on his face.

"What's wrong Talbott," she asked. Talbott glanced at her nervously.

"Can you keep a secret," the boy quietly asked. Judith pursed her lips, confused.

"Yes, I can," she said cautiously. The boy regarded her with a serious look.

"You can't tell anyone what I'm about to show you, do you promise?" The girl studied him for a moment before holding out her pinky. Talbott's brows furrowed.

"What are you doing," he asked.

"Making a pinky promise. A pinky promise is suppose to be a Muggle version of an Unbreakable Oath. This is my way of showing you that I'm serious," The girl said. Talbott blinked in surprise but locked his pinky with hers.

"I promise to keep your secret, Talbott," she whispered, looking into his red eyes. The two stood there for a few moments before Talbott broke eye contact first, trying to hide his blush.

"Alright, Judith. I trust you," he said. He took a few steps back and transformed into his Golden Eagle form. Judith gasped in delight as Talbott flew around her.

"Wow! That's so cool, Talbott," Judith cheered. Talbott flew down and tapped her before taking off.

"Hey! No fair! You didn't say we started! Come back here!"

---------

The game went on for a bit, Judith was a bit too winded to continue to play and sat under the shade of a tree. Talbott landed on her lap and she didn't hesitate to pet his feathers. Talbott preened happily under her attention, nesting in her lap.

"Lunch time kiddos..." Judith looked up to meet the questioning gaze of her father.

"Judith, why is Talbott in your lap?" The girl blushed and stubbornly looked at her dad.

"He likes the attention," she said. Kendrick did his best not to snort at the cute scene in front of him.

Good thing he offered to bring the kids some food. If Ava found them, she wouldn't hesitate to embarrass her child...

Talbott got off the girl's lap and transformed back.

"S-sorry, Mr. Harris," the boy mumbled. His mum must've told Kendrick about his ability, meaning she trust the older Harris with his secret. Meaning he made the right choice to trust the girl next to him...

Kendrick cracked a smile at the pair.

"Kendrick, and it's quite alright. You two enjoy," he said, setting the basket down between them before walking away.

"Oooo, food! I'm so hungry!" Talbott glanced at the girl who was already digging in the basket with an eager smile. The boy blushed and smiled at the girl's authenticity.

-----------

"What else can we do," Judith wondered aloud as they finished eating. It was a little past noon now.

"Can you dance," Talbott asked randomly. Judith cringed, already hearing her mother's chiding voice, saying the dances from her homeland were "too inappropriate" for a female in British society.

"Er... somewhat. But I never really learned some of the dances here," she carefully admitted. She glanced at Talbott, who seem to be contemplating something.

"Can you," she asked, trying to change the subject off of her. Talbott blushed.

"I, er..., my parents showed me how to waltz but I never practiced with anyone before," he mumbled. This quipped her curiosity.

"Waltz? How do you do that," she asked, wanting to learn something new. Talbott grew fidgety.

"It's like a fancy dance they do at balls... I-I can show you if you like," he said, shyly glancing at the girl next to him. Judith clapped her hands, excited.

"Oh yes, please!" The smile on her face was doing funny things to his heart.

'Maybe I should ask Mum about that later...' he mused to himself.

"Alright, wait here. I'll be right back," the boy instructed. Judith nodded as the boy got up and ran back inside his house. She twiddled her thumbs, thinking about the red eyed boy.

She felt happy to make a new friend. He was already nicer than a lot of the other boys from her village and really smart. And not to mention cute. Her cheeks grew warm at the last thought.

"I'm back." Judith looked up as Talbott approached with a little box. She got on her feet.

"What's that," she asked as Talbott set the little box on the ground.

"It's a music box my parents gave me for my 7th birthday. It has the songs they like to dance to, and apparently they also helped me sleep as a baby," Talbott said. He took a breath as he looked at the girl in front of him.

"We should practice our stances..." the girl nodded slowly, curious to what Talbott could possibly mean by that.

The boy stepped closer and took ahold of her hands. Placing one of the girl's hands on his shoulder, Talbott held her free hand in his own as his remaining hand rested on her lower back.

"Is this okay," he asked. The girl didn't respond at first, too busy screaming in her head and running in circles. She never been this close to another boy that wasn’t her family before.

But she felt... safe being this close to Talbott?

"Judith," Talbott called. The girl in question blinked, as if remembering where she was.

"H-huh, what?" Talbott raised a sharp brow.

"I asked if this is okay," he repeated. She flushed in embarrassment.

"Y-Yeah, this is fine. S-so what's next," the girl asked, trying not to think about how close they were.

"Well, like I said I never practiced with anyone before. Mum and dad said if me or my partner decide to lead, the other person has to try to follow the flow. Like if I move forward, you're suppose to move backwards. Does that make sense?"

"Sounds simple enough," Judith deduced. Talbott smiled.

"Good, let's try it."

-----

"Alright, I need a break. Hold on." Talbott said, letting go of the girl to massage his feet. They've been practicing for Gods know how long and the girl managed to step on his feet more times than he could count on both hands.

"I'm so sorry, Talbott! I-I didn't mean it," the girl fretted. She normally was very light on her feet, it's just when she looks in Talbott eyes, she gets nervous and suddenly forgets what they were doing and-

She sighed, covering her face in embarrassment. Talbott was actually an excellent teacher, she just gets caught up in the fluttering feeling that seems to take place in her chest whenever they make eye contact. She didn't want him to think she was completely hopeless...

She glanced at the music box and then at Talbott.

"Wh-Why don't we try wi-with the music box," she offered, hopeful. Talbott glanced at the girl, uncertainty dancing in his eyes.

"I don't know-"

"Please, Talbott! May-Maybe I'll be better with music! Please, can we try," the girl pleaded, wanting to impress her new friend. Talbott looked into those gold puppy dog eyes and sighed. For whatever reason, he couldn't say no to her...

"Alright..." Talbott picked up the music box to select a song before standing again. Judith stepped closer, taking the initial position he showed her.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3Xmqo3ly8s

Talbott took lead of the dance, a little surprised to see Judith's eyes closed. Even more surprised how she didn't step on his feet after the first few steps.

She seemed to flow seem effortlessly with the music, her steps light and sure. Her face calm and serene under the sun's gentle rays.

Talbott found this sudden grace and peace the girl suddenly portrayed under the sound of the melody to be... alluring. He slowly twirled the girl under his arm, smiling at the sound of her giggle.

"This is nice," she whispered once she was in his arms again. Her gold eyes were now open, displaying a sea of calm with a ghost of a small smile on her face. Talbott felt his breath catch for a moment.

"Yes, it is... You seem to dance better with the music. How did you know?" The girl gave a light shrug, offering a bashful smile.

"Music tends to have a calming effect on me," she said as the two glided nearby the forest line.

"You were nervous," Talbott asked. An innocent question, but it didn't stop the girl from blushing.

"A little," the girl admitted shyly.

"Why? It's just me," Talbott said, as they slowed down, swaying in a place for a moment. Judith shyly glanced at him under her short curly lashes.

"I- um... I don't know... I'm not used to being this close to a boy that's not my dad or brother," she says, biting the inside of her cheek.

'They certainly don't make me feel the same way I feel towards you...' she thought. The boy let out a tentative hum.

"Do you want to stop?" Talbott found himself liking the girl, and didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"N-no! Not at all," she exclaimed before clearing her throat.

"I mean, no... I-I actually like being this close to you," she says more calmly. Talbott smiled and settled both hands on her waist. Judith's hands instinctively went to grasp his shoulders as he picked her up and spun around.

"Haha, Talbott! We didn't practice this," Judith squealed in delight, soft laughter escaping her as she took in the beauty of the nature around them. She looked down to find Talbott looking at her.

'Oh my...' she thought, noticing a spark in the boy's eyes.

'She's so lovely...' Talbott thought as he looked up the girl. Her locs flowed effortlessly behind her. Her pouty lips were spread in bright smile as her chest rose and fell with each laugh. Her gold eyes were partially glowing under the sunlight. It's like with the music, she shed her outer armor.

He was seeing the real Judith. And he wanted to imprint this picture in his mind forever...

Talbott carefully set her down, resuming their dance.

"You're right, we didn't practice this. But you were graceful as if we have," Talbott said softly with a smile.

"Maybe it's because you're an excellent lead," she whispered, suddenly breathless. Talbott blushed at her praise. He braced an arm around her back, dipping her back. Their eyes locked.

'What is happening? Something about him/her feels... magical...' they both thought, hearts racing.

Talbott pulled her back up, both ending their dance with a graceful spin. Judith rested her forehead onto his, her hand moving from his shoulder to his chest.

"Thank you for teaching me," she quietly said, a shy smile on her full lips. Talbott returned it with one of his own.

"Thank you for being my first dance partner," he replied. The two stood there for Gods know how long as the song faded in the background. Eyes closed with small smiles on their faces.

Ava and Kendrick watched the scene from the window. Ava excitedly smacked Kendrick's arm.

"Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen," she squealed. Kendrick looked a bit disgruntled.

"Still, no wedding planning."

"Oh come on, Kendrick! That song will be perfect for their first dance!"

"Ava!"

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

"I haven't had this much fun ever since I came here. I never want this day to end," Judith sighed as they sat in their tree. They were watching the sunset from within the branches, watching the breath taking view.

They've danced, played, talked about almost anything that came to mind, sky gazed, Judith even allowing Talbott to braid her locs.

Something she only allowed her father and grandmother to do.

A pretty braid swept over her right shoulder.

Neither felt the awkward shyness from their meeting this morning. Just a warm sense of familiarity...

"Same here, I never felt this way before," Talbott quietly confessed. Judith looked over at him.

"Felt what way," she asked. The young boy fidgeted nervously.

"I'm not sure what exactly I'm feeling," the boy mumbled with a blush. Judith pouted.

"Well, try to describe it." The boy spared a glance at her before taking in a breath.

"I feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Especially when I see you smile... and it's because of me... my heart feels like it wants to beat out of my chest sometimes when you look at me," Talbott said, feeling his ears burning. Judith was silent for a few moments before letting out a soft laugh.

"Sounds like love to me," she chuckled. Talbott spluttered a response, forgetting himself as he slowly lost his balance. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

"Woah! Easy there, you could've fell," Judith chided, though there was no real heat behind her words.

"S-sorry..." The two noticed just how close they were. Judith cleared her throat and pulled away a little.

"W-well maybe love is too strong of a word,” she started, frowning a little as an unpleasant voice rang in her head.

‘Nobody would love a girl like you in a society like this, little girl. You’ll grow up all alone.’

“I've read Muggle romance books that talk about similar feelings... you could just like me and care about me. I..." the girl trailed off to look at Talbott.

"I... I know I like and care about you," she softly confessed. Red eyes went wide with shock at this revelation. She likes and cares about him...?

He let out a breathless laugh, holding her hand.

"I'm glad you feel the same too, little bird," he told her. The girl looked confused for a moment.

"I'm not the one who can transform into a bird, bird boy," she teased, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Talbott chuckled.

"Consider it my pet name for you. Who knows maybe you can become like me and transform into a bird," Talbott mused as he nuzzled her cheek.

"Really? You'll teach me," the girl asked with a smile. Talbott held out his pinky to her. Her smile widen as she hooked her pinky finger with hers.

"I promise, little bird," he swore. Judith leaned in gently pressed her lips to the young boy's cheek. When she pulled away, Talbott raised a shaky hand to the spot Judith kissed.

"Wh-what was that f-for?" The girl giggled shyly, eyes sparkling with warmth.

"A little way for me to say ‘I care about you, bird boy’." Talbott blushed and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. Judith sighed through her nose.

"I care about you too, little bird," the boy whispered against her cheek. The two looked into each other's eyes as the sun set behind them.

"Time to go, baby girl!" They looked down towards the Winger home, Kendrick, Ava and Trent looking up at them. They glanced back at each other, hesitant, but slowly scaled down the tree.

"Kendrick, I know you saw that-"

"I don't know what you're talking about Ava. I didn't see a damn thing," Kendrick interrupted. But of course he saw his little girl kiss Talbott. And Talbott kissed her back.

Still.

She was his baby girl and remain that way for as long as he can allow it.

The two children walked up to the adults slowly, hands intertwined.

"H-Hello, Mr. Winger... it's very nice to meet you," the girl greeted. Trent chuckled.

"Please, call me Trent. And it's pleasure to see you again, Judith. I wished I've came earlier to meet you but work had to ruin my day off," Trent playfully huffed. Judith chuckled at this.

"Time to head home, baby girl," Kendrick said, holding out his hand. Judith squeezed Talbott's hand, unwillingly to leave him just yet.

"Will we be able to come back, Papa," his daughter asked with hopeful eyes. Kendrick looked toward Ava and Trent, slightly pained.

They were lucky to get this day, with their work schedules, who knows when they'll be able to bring the two together again. And let Sade will never allow Talbott around their home without constantly trying to monitor them.

"I can't say for sure, baby girl..." The building tears in his little girl's eyes hurt him. She didn't want to leave him.

"W-wait! I, uh, want to give her something," Talbott blurted out. Kendrick regarded him with a head tilt. The boy rushed to the back of the house and came back with a single flower. A white clover.

"A flower?" Judith asked aloud.

"A white clover, to be exact. T-think of me, little bird," Talbott asked shyly as he placed the flower behind her ear. Through her teary eyes, the girl smiled.

"Of course, bird boy..." The adults watched as the two kids hugged. Reminding them of the time when the two were just little toddlers.

They were meant for each other. They all silently prayed that they could bring the two together again one day...

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

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLuTWdUCq60

Unfortunately, that day never came.

Just a little over two years later, Talbott's parents were killed at the hands of Death Eaters. Just a few weeks shy after that horrific tragedy, Judith's father died of a heart virus on his birthday. Their respective pain and grief clouded the happy memory that they shared of each other.

The only living memory of that day was the white clover, hidden away by Kendrick in a Muggle romance novel that he would read with his daughter that he stashed away in the safe he gifted her when Mercy died.

Growing up past these tragedies, there were days where the two would remember of the good days of their childhood, where all they could remember was a child who they cared about. Their names lost to their grief and time but the unexplainable warm feeling that they got from being around them remained.

A girl with long locs and a pretty accent.

A boy who knew how to waltz and his little music box.

Although they may not remember each other, they thought about each other often with fond sadness.

When they met again at Hogwarts, to them it was first time. But the warm unexplainable feeling in their hearts says otherwise.

'Who are you?' Talbott thought as he taught Judith the spell to help her become an Animagus. He faintly remembering promising a girl years ago that he would teach her to be like him. Where she can hopefully become a bird and go flying with him. But that felt like a lifetime ago...

'Who are you?' Judith thought after she watched Talbott transform into a Golden Eagle and fly away. She learned of his part of his story and why he never registered to become an Animagus. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she's been in that position before. Remembering a bird with similar coloring as his feathers fly off as she chased after it. It felt like a lifetime ago, but she faintly remembered making a promise to a boy about that same bird...

'Could it be...' Judith thought as she watched Talbott hold his feather necklace with a relieved smile. A white feather necklace. She remembered a woman with a very similar feather that was clipped into her hair. Judith's chest ached when she listened to what happened to the boy's parents. It reminded her that she was just alone as he was, losing her loving father. Though, what made her breath catch was the familiar spark in his eyes as he proclaimed that she was now his friend.

His friend for life.

She thought back to the boy who taught her how to waltz, spinning her around in the air in their first dance, his eyes sparkling as he watched her.

'Is it really you...' she wondered...

'Could it be...' Talbott thought as he stared at the tombstone in shock. He had a faint memory of his mother introducing him to someone named Kendrick when he and his daughter came to visit his old home. When Judith showed him the necklace that resided around her neck and explained what it was, Talbott faintly remembered seeing the exact same one around the man's neck. He looked at the girl, as he reached out to touch the shark tooth.

He thought back to the girl who was clenching at her father's pant leg.

'Is it really you...' he wondered...

'She is...' Talbott realized as he watched a memory from Kendrick's point of view. He was in his Golden Eagle form, laying in the little girl from his childhood lap as she gently petted his feathers. Now she has name. A familiar face.

'He is...' Judith gasped in shock as she stood next to Ava. Watching the young version of herself dance with that same little boy from her past. She watched as her young self twirl effortlessly under his arm before being pulled against him. She was giggling about something as the boy looked at her with a soft, fond expression. Now he has a name. A familiar face.

The young couple, now recently turned 17, stood in front of their smiling parents in shock.

"So all this time..." Judith started, looking into those red eyes she fell in love with. Many years before she even fully realized.

"You were..." Talbott continued, feeling that familiar fluttering feeling from his childhood whenever he looked into those gold eyes.

"The unknown face from my past..." They looked at each other in surprise before slow smiles broke out onto their faces.

"After all this time, we found our way back to each other, little bird," Talbott chuckled, hugging his girlfriend close. The girl in his arms giggled.

"And all this time, we kept each others' promises," Judith said, kissing her boyfriend's cheek.

"And it's about time you two realized it!" The pair shyly glanced at a grinning Ava and smirking Kendrick.

"Now, about that wedding," she started, smirking deviously. That pair blushed fiercely.

"Mum!"

"Papa, do something!" Kendrick snorted.

"She's been mentally planning your wedding since you guys were toddlers. Trust me, there's no way around her," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. A gesture that said "Nope, keep me out of this." Judith glared at her Papa, knowing good and well where she got her "I'm gonna mind my business" attitude from.

"So help me Talbott Winger, you haven't wifed her the next time I see you, I'm boxing your ears!" Talbott covered his face, slightly mortified by her mother's fangirl behavior and Judith simply giggled out of fond embarrassment.

#hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott winger #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott x mc #judith harris #hphm mc #hphm headcanons #hphm jacobs sibling #talbott winger x mc #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #kendrick harris #ava winger #past au

35 notes · View notes