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browniesarethebest · 4 months

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Hi hiii, I'd read your Robin in a nest of bats a while ago, and found it again recently. Its, I'm my opinion, one of the best reverse Robin's au's out there. I'm not sure if it's a headcanon, but pretty much every Damian and Dick fic has damian sometimes calling Dick baba. Could you write a fic where Dick see's Damian as a father figure, and calls him dad in either Romani or Arabic?

Aw thank you! You got it!

Dick believed he was cursed to lose everyone he loved.

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but Dick had already experienced so much loss during his short life. After losing his parents, Dick thought there was nothing left to live for in this world. Thankfully, Bruce had been kind enough to take him in and give him a new family. He had siblings and aunts and uncles...

...and a father again.

The pain from losing his parents would never truly go away, but his new family's presence was able to soothe it, and Dick let himself believe that he could give his heart freely.

He should have known that nothing good lasts forever.

Dick didn't really remember the moment he was told that Bruce died. He remembers screaming and screaming and screaming, but other than that it's a blur. He remembered someone holding him, though he wasn't sure who. He just knew that the arms were strong and warm, and they were the one thing keeping him from falling to pieces, never to be put back together again.

There was a terrifying moment when he came back to himself where he wondered where he would go. He had no trust in the Gotham Family and Children Services, and they certainly had no love for him. There was no way Dick would get a third chance, and he knew that if he went back in their custody, he would certainly die.

Even if it was by his own hand-

Not to mention that Jason and Tim were also under the spotlight. Tim was a little safer since he was 17, and GFCS weren't really looking to find another place for him, but Jason was 13 and also prime for the taking.

Thankfully, Damian fought hard to keep them in the family. Dick had seen Damian angry before, but never like this. He could still see the social worker cowering as Damian ripped into them for even thinking of taking his brothers away. Dick had been hiding behind him, clinging to Damian for dear life. The rest of his family surrounded him, eyes shadowed as they glared at the social worker. The man practically ran from the Manor once it was clear that Damian was not letting them go.

Dick never mentioned the fear he had seen in Jason's eyes that day, and Jason never mentioned it either.

Dick had never really cared for Bruce's money before, but he was thankful for it when Damian hired the best lawyers available. It wasn't an easy fight, but the court was no match against the unstoppable force that was Damian, Steph, and Cass.

Even after being being told that he and Jason could stay with them, the Manor still received random "wellness checks" to make sure that they were being taken care of properly. It pissed Dick off to no end, but Steph explained that Bruce had gone through the very same thing when he had first started taking in kids. It didn't really make him feel better, but he figured that if Bruce had been fine, Damian would be fine too.

Dick's family was slowly falling apart around him. Tim had run off to prove that Bruce wasn't really dead, and Stephanie had followed after to make sure he didn't die. Jason was locking himself up in the library more and more, and he knew that Cass would often sneak in and sit with him as a silent support. Dick found himself gravitating towards Damian more and more, following the man around like a duckling as he put out metaphorical fires and worked on transferring everything to his and Steph's name.

With everyone else either gone or distracted, it was Damian who primarily took care of Dick. Despite how busy Damian was with his new responsibilities, he still made time for Dick. It was Damian who read to him when he asked. It was Damian's arms he woke up in after screaming himself awake from nightmares. It was Damian who held him while he cried for Bruce and took him out for ice cream after to try to make him feel better. It was Damian who made sure he still made it to school and ate three meals a day.

"You must keep your strength up," Damian said, hands on Dick's shoulders. "You have walked through Hell before, and you can do it again."

Dick's lip wobbled, "I don't know if I can. I'm tired, Dami."

His older brother squeezed his shoulders. "You will not be walking alone. You will never be alone again, not if I have anything to say about it."

The tears spilled over. "But you can't promise that! What if you die too?"

Damian's face spasmed for a moment before smoothing out. Dick didn't comment on it, still trying to keep himself together as best as he could.

His eyes widened in shock as he suddenly found Damian's arms around him, pulling him close to the man. He tensed up, unsure what to do.

"This will not be like the circus, Richard. Father and I have made sure of it. I won't say it's impossible that something will happen to me or our siblings, but even without us, you are not alone. Were anything to happen, multiple members of the Justice League, Timothy's Young Justice, and even Stephanie and Cassandra's Birds of Prey have volunteered to step up to take you in."

"Really?" Dick asked, breath hitching.

Damian pulled back, moving his hand up to cup the back of Dick's head. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Dick shook his head, too overwhelmed with love and relief to reply.

Dick knew that Damian was trying his best, going far out of his comfort zone to continue providing care and comfort to Dick. He was putting up such a strong front that it took Dick much longer than he believed it should have for him to realize that Damian was struggling too. Even after all the years living with Bruce, Damian still struggled with showing his emotions at times. Dick knew Damian believed he had to be the strong one for his siblings, but Dick thought the others sometimes forgot that Damian had lost his father too—his biological father.

Dick saw the cracks under Damian's shield one night when he went to Damian's room after a nightmare.

"Dami?" Dick whispered as he opened his older brother's door. Dick had expected his older brother to be asleep, but he was surprised to see Damian already sitting up and jerking in surprise at Dick's voice.

Damian cleared his throat and set something aside. "Ah, Richard."

Dick hesitated at the doorway. "Are you busy?"

Damian let out a breath and waved the boy over. "No. No, come in."

Dick climbed onto the bed and leaned against his older brother.

Damian glanced down at him. "Another nightmare?" Dick nodded silently, and Damian let out a sigh. "You can stay here tonight."

"Thanks, Dami." Dick's eyes drifted over to the item Damian had set aside. It looked like a picture frame. "What were you looking at?"

He felt Damian stiffen, and there was a beat of silence.

"...Did I say something wrong?"

"No! No." Dick flinched as Damian turned towards him. Dick still didn't look convinced, so Damian sighed and picked up the picture frame, holding it out for Dick to take.

It was a little difficult to see with only the light from Damian's lone lamp, but it looked like a much younger Bruce with a very young Damian. Dick swallowed back the sudden wave of tears and studied the photo closer. Damian looked to be about his age and was frowning in the picture while Bruce had a small smile on his face. Dick stared at the young Damian, resting his fingers on the glass above the boy's face.

"This was taken just a few months after I came to the Manor. I was still getting used to being with Father, but we had had a good day that day, and Alfred wanted to commemorate it."

"You look so grumpy. Were you always as grumpy as you are now?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "I suppose I was by your definition. Showing emotion often meant weakness in the League of Assassins, so I was taught to hide them. Even with Father's and everyone else's influence, that never really went away."

Dick beamed up at him. "That's okay! I like you just the way you are!"

Damian's eyes softened, and Dick couldn't help but feel proud that he could make Damian relax. "Thank you, Richard."

They both fell silent as they looked at the picture, before Dick spoke up again.

"Is hiding your emotions why you always call Bruce 'Father?' Did you always call him that?"

"Somewhat, yes. 'Father' is a less emotional word than 'Dad' or 'Tati' as you used with your own father, as well as any other word. It also showed the respect I felt for him as I had been raised on stories about him from my mother before meeting him when I was ten."

"So, you always called him that?"

Damian was silent for a moment. "...No. When I was very young, I would call him 'Baba' around my mother. It is the Arabic word for 'father.'"

Dick blinked before smiling. He wrapped his arms around Damian and closed his eyes, nearly falling asleep due to the late hour. "'Baba.' That sounds cool. Thanks for sharing with me, Dami."

"...You're welcome, Richard."

They fell asleep not long after that, both taking comfort in each other's presence.

Dick thought about that conversation a lot over the next few weeks. He and Damian continued to grow even closer. and Dick had a crisis as he realized he was starting to see Damian the same way he saw Bruce when he came to the Manor. Dick tried to deny it—Damian was his older brother, not a father figure—but Damian had taken on Bruce's role as his caretaker, and Dick could not deny that that had somewhat changed their dynamic.

Dick ended up avoiding Damian for a few days, wracked with guilt about replacing his dad and Bruce. He knew there was nothing wrong with seeing Damian as a father figure as he had worked through this guilt the first time it happened with Bruce (and a therapist), but he still couldn't help but feel this way.

It all came to a head when Dick was injured during patrol. One of Penguin's goons caught him by surprise and got a good hit in, resulting in Dick getting a concussion. Damian had rushed him back as soon as the Penguin had been captured, cursing the entire way. Dick wasn't sure he had ever heard Damian be so vulgar.

The ride back was a blur—one moment he was in the Batmobile and the next he was being tucked into bed by Damian. Dick squinted up at Damian, struggling to figure out what was happening, but Damian was being unusually gentle, and Dick was tempted to just lay back and enjoy it while he could.

"D'mi...?"

"Get some rest, Richard. You are suffering from a concussion, but you should feel better in the morning. I will be here to wake you every few hours to check on you."

Dick hummed. Sleep was quickly claiming him, and his bed felt so nice. If Dick closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that it was Bruce and not Damian. Dick felt a pang in his heart, but he was far too exhausted for it to have much effect.

"'Kay... Night, Baba..."

He heard Damian inhale sharply, but Dick was asleep before he could ask.

(When Damian tried to bring it up the next morning, Dick would have no idea what he was talking about.)

#reverse batfamily #anon #ask #my fic #dick grayson #damian wayne #robin #reverse robins #reverse robins au #reverse batfamily au #i feel evil #but not evil enough to change the ending #batman #batman fic

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sleekervae · 3 months

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The Bride [0.7]

Masterlist

A/N: sorry I've been away for so long guys, I hit a bit of a depression when I came home but I'm slowly coming out of it. And ofc any time Tom's in a cowboy hat catch me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure lol.

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: Billy moves to Lincoln

Warnings: cursing, slander, mentions of shooting, anxiety and paranoia

Word Count: 5,222

Tag List: @poppyflower-22 @ponyslayer

The town of Lincoln was a booming, dusty town with a strong Mexican population. Despite its small size it was rapidly developing in housing, productivity, and opportunity. And where there was opportunity, ambition came sniffing around.

The first opportunity Lawrence P. Murphy saw was a monopoly; so many immigrant farmers eager to make a living, and he had the means to distribute their products to those who needed them. Of course, because he had been in the only game in town, no farmer could complain when Murphy began to slash their earnings, because where were they supposed to go? Who was going to compensate them?

Well, John Tunstall saw his own opportunity: completion.

Same distribution, same stores, better wages, better human rights. And when the farmers learned of what Tunstall had to offer, they of course clamoured to sell their grain, veggies, and dry goods to him instead of Murphy.

Another result of competition was jealousy... as well as greed... and then desperation.

Murphy became so desperate to keep his stocks, so desperate to hold on to the power and control he had within Lincoln, that he was willing to sub-contract criminals to keep the farmers in line. There was no real law in Lincoln, so again -- who was to stop him?

Seven had just struck the morning air, businesses were opening and children were beginning their chores for the day. It was a simple, ordinary day, up until an unfamiliar horse strided into town. On the back of said horse was a woman, a striking stranger donning a long canvas coat and a black, wide-brimmed hat. The horse matched her facade, black in its coat with a single white sock on its back leg, trotting away peacefully under the patient guidance of its rider.

Some of the locals stopped what they were doing, it wasn't often they'd see women riding horses by themselves. They'd never seen a strange woman ride into town, period; they were typically always accompanied by a man.

And yet, the town of Lincoln would come to find there was nothing typical about this woman.

They watched curiously as she stopped before John Tunstall's store. Dismounting her horse, she was much shorter than she appeared, however she walked with great confidence up the stairs of the store front and waltzed right in.

A store clerk glanced up, giving her his own curious gaze as she bypassed all the available product and approached the desk, "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked.

"Why yes," she smiled sweetly for him, lifting her hat off her head and letting her long brown hair cascade over her shoulders, "I heard Mr. Tunstall was hiring for a book keeper. I'm here to apply," she replied simply, plucking her riding gloves off her fingers one by one.

The clerk nodded, "I see. Do you have experience?"

"Yes, sir. Six years worth," her smile widened, the tinge of her southern accent was so effortlessly charming that the clerk couldn't help but be taken with her.

"Six years?" he queried. He couldn't have put this girl at more than twenty-years-old.

"That's right," she nodded, never wavering in her confidence.

She seemed sweet enough, the clerk didn't see the harm in her, "Well, Mr. Tunstall won't be back in town for another few weeks, but I'd be happy to give you the run through, if you'd like?" he offered.

"I'd appreciate that," she nodded, "Mr...?"

"Charlie works just fine," he stepped out from the counter to lead her into the back, "And your name?"

"Johana," she replied, reaching out to shake his hand, "Johana Delile,"

Working for Mr. Murphy brought in a lot of money, and for the most part, it was easy money. Intimidate the competition, disrupt supply chains, and remind the locals who held the monopoly in town.

That last part didn't sit well with Billy. Jesse, however, seemed to thrive on it.

The locals they were threatening, the supply chains they were disrupting, were typically Mexican families. Immigrants who had journeyed up North in hopes of achieving the American Dream. They were good people who just wanted to make an honest living. People who, despite their contracts with Murphy, were giving their supply to Tunstall because he simply paid better.

If anyone deserved a shot at making it in this country, it was them. Billy understood that better than any of Jesse's boys could, better than Murphy ever would. Murphy's solution was muscle and ammo, and despite how much Billy tried to keep violence out of it, he could only play peacemaker for so long before something snapped.

Billy found himself torn. He knew the pain of struggling for a better life, the desperation that came with it. He saw the fear in the eyes of the families they intimidated, and it ate at him. He could almost hear Eleanor's voice, urging him to do the right thing, to find another way.

But here he was, stuck in a cycle of survival and compromise, his hands tied by the very people he was trying to distance himself from. Each day brought a new challenge, a new moral line to cross, and Billy felt the weight of it pressing down on him, threatening to crush whatever remnants of his old self he had left.

Today was another warm one, summer would be coming to an end soon yet the heat was insistent on sticking around. Murphy had tasked Jesse with another intimidation tactic, Jesse naturally dragged Billy and Pat with him.

They made a good trio: Jesse was the aggressive one, hyper, quick on the tongue and on the draw, Pat, with his distinguished way of dress gave him some air of power and authority, people respected him. And Billy, well Billy's sensitivity came into play quite effectively. Jesse knew how much Billy didn't want blood spilled, he could tell from the moment he stepped foot into town. So Billy was naturally the last line of threat, encouraging the locals to wise up and respect Murphy's business.

Today however would prove to be just a tad different.

It wasn't the first time the trio had stormed into Tunstall's store, tearing through bags of grain, kicking bags of flour, making a real mess of the place. The clerk in charge stood helpless, unarmed, and outmanned. This was exactly what Jesse and his boys expected as they strode into the store. Jesse’s aggression could be sensed a mile away, and it was enough to make the poor store clerk quake in his boots.

"I thought we gave you a warning last time!" Jesse hollered, his boot connecting with another bag of grain, spilling its contents across the floor.

"And what warning would that be?" the clerk stammered, trying to stand his ground. Billy felt a pang of sympathy for the guy, along with a growing annoyance at Jesse’s antics.

"Shape up and ship out," Jesse replied with a sneer. "You've got no chance at competing with Murphy. He knows it, you know it, and I'm sure at this point Tunstall knows it too."

Pat chimed in, "You can’t even get the same quality product. It’s no competition."

Billy lingered in the back, staying quiet but ready should things escalate. They almost did with a farmer and his family the other day, and Billy had barely managed to reel Jesse back in, like a rabid animal on a leash.

"Where's Tunstall at?" Jesse demanded, hands on his hips.

"He won’t be back for a few weeks," the clerk said, trying to sound confident.

"You told me that last time," Jesse scoffed.

"Last time was the same," the clerk replied. "Mr. Tunstall’s a busy man, you know..."

A smirk tugged at Jesse’s lips. He glanced at Pat, then at Billy, before turning back to the clerk. "I bet he is. So damn busy, he leaves some gawky kid to run his store instead of being here himself. Real brave man,"

Just as the tension reached its peak, the door to the store swung open, and Billy swore he was seeing a ghost. Given the dumfounded look on Jesse's face, he felt the same. In walked Eleanor—or a more refined, polished version of her. Billy finally sat up from the crate he was resting on, studying her hard as she sauntered into the hostile room. Her hair was pinned up nicely, her slacks were traded for a nice dress, and her face was clean, free of any trace of stress or depression.

"Sam, you need help out here? I heard some bags fall over—"

She took in the scene with a quick glance, her eyes locking with Billy's first, then shifting to Jesse. The same gobsmacked expression hit her only for a moment; her eyes went wide, and Billy could hear her sharp inhale. Nevertheless, she remained cool and stoic, standing beside the clerk with a calm authority that commanded the room.

"What’s goin' on here?" Eleanor asked, her voice steady and her Carolinian accent heavier than before.

Jesse straightened up, stepping forward with caution, "Eleanor?" he muttered, but the edge in his voice had dulled.

She cocked a brow, glancing at Sam with curiosity before turning back to Jesse, "Who's Eleanor?" she asked plainly.

Pat himself was confused, glancing between the two men. Obviously, there was something about this girl that had them both as white as sheets.

Jesse scoffed in disbelief, "Don't play around, Ellie. It's not funny," he told her.

"Do you see me laughing?" she sassed back, one hand going on her hip, "Now I asked you a question, you still have yet to answer me,"

"They were just leaving, Jo," Sam informed her.

"Jo?" Billy finally spoke, coming to stand in line with Jesse and Pat. There were so many emotions flooding through him; relief because she was alive and appeared relatively unharmed, confused and hurt because she obviously recognized him and Jesse, but whatever role she was taking on now, she obviously couldn't let slip that she knew them.

"Johana," she said simply, "You boys work for Mr. Murphy, don't ya?" she cocked her head, staring directly at Billy now.

Billy took a hard swallow before answering, "That's right, ma'am," Jesse shot him a glare, pissed and annoyed that Billy was playing into her cock and bull story.

A pitiful smile crossed her face, "Then you don't belong here. Either buy somethin', or get out," she huffed, "We got a special on dried apricots this week,"

Jesse was still in disbelief, but he could register enough to see how she was talking to him. He could see which side she was playing for, and that automatically made her his enemy.

"You really wanna' do this, Eleanor?" he asked, "This is what you do to me?"

Eleanor simply shook her head, "Now listen, I don't know who this Eleanor girl is, but God save her soul should you ever find her. Now, I told you to leave,"

Jesse scowled menacingly, anger boiling inside him now, "Or what?" he took a step closer, "What the hell are you gonna' do?"

Billy watched anxiously as a viscous, petty smile crossed her face. He could see how much Eleanor was enjoying this, toying with Jesse, riling him up. But he couldn't have predicted what she did next.

Without warning, she let out an ear-piercing, murderous scream. The type of scream women let out when they knew they were in real trouble, the type of scream that townsfolk would drop everything for and run if it meant protecting their own. And that's just what happened, already Billy could hear people making their way to Tunstall's store. He knew exactly how it would look when they came in here, and he was eager to avoid as much trouble as he could.

They had to get out, now.

"Alright, alright! We get it!" Billy stepped forward, his hands out to try and calm her, "You win!"

Eleanor immediately stopped screaming, that same smile still plastered to her face. It was almost as though she had been taken on by another spirit, this wasn't the Eleanor that Billy had come to know. Even Sam was shaken as he cowered further back behind the desk.

"I'm glad you see it my way," she told him, "Now either run along, and I make up a ruse about a mouse runnin' loose around here. Or the townspeople can come in and I'll tell 'em all about how you tried to manhandle a poor, defenceless, little woman," her smile was overtaken by that all too familiar pout that Billy and Jesse came to know.

That murderous glare returned to Jesse's face, his fists balling at his sides. Of course, he couldn't do anything here, not now anyway. Billy wouldn't put it past him to return come closing time, though.

"Alright, we're leaving," Pat agreed, tugging Jesse by his jacket arm, "But Mr. Murphy's gett'n real tired of losing his suppliers,"

"Well, maybe if Murphy paid his suppliers properly, he wouldn't be having a problem?" Sam butted in.

"Money talks well, after all," Eleanor nodded coyly.

Jesse stepped back with the boys, his glare never leaving Eleanor's, "Don't get too comfortable, Johana. We'll be back,"

"Gimme' a head's up next time!" she called after them, "I'll put some coffee on!"

Billy grabbed Jesse and dragged him out the door, just as a few locals came rushing into the store to see what all the screaming was about. Sam and Eleanor -- or Johana, as they came to know her -- quickly quelled their fears with the story of a rogue rat, sending them all on their way again. All they were left with now was a giant mess to clean up.

"That was wonderful, Jo," Sam awed, "I don't know how you got it in you!"

"What do ya' mean, Sam?" she asked.

"You just stand up to them so well! That first guy was all up in your face and you never flinched!" he replied

"Well, it's simple," she told him as they began to clean up, "Don't let 'em see you scared, that's how they know they got power over you,"

Sam nodded, "S'pose that makes sense... were you scared?"

"Of those knuckle heads? Please," she scoffed.

"Why'd they keep calling you 'Eleanor', though?"

Eleanor simply shrugged, not letting any hint of stress show in her expression, "Hell if I know. Maybe I just got one of 'em faces?"

Sam began to laugh, "Maybe you look too much like his girlfriend that took off on 'im?" well, he almost hit the nail on the head...

"Maybe so," Eleanor chuckled back, though the thought of being Jesse's girl absolutely repulsed her, "I'm gonna grab the broom. You try to salvage whatcha' can,"

"Sounds good!"

Eleanor walked into the back of the store, her calm facade crumbling the moment she was out of sight. Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling her labored breathing. Her chest tightened like a bowstring as she fell back against the wall, eyes wide with panic. Jesse was in town. Billy was in town. They were working for the competition. If they were feeling spiteful, her cover was definitely blown.

She slid down the wall, her legs shaking beneath her, the reality of the situation hitting her like a freight train. Memories flooding back like a dam bursting, the life she had tried so hard to escape was back to haunt her. She pressed her palm against her chest, willing herself to calm down.

Footsteps echoed from the front of the store, each one sending a jolt of fear through her. Sam would surely be back to check on her if she wasn't out soon. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, fighting to regain control. She couldn’t let him see her like this, couldn't risk him finding out the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor straightened up, forcing herself to stand tall. She brushed her hands down her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, and went to fetch the broom. She had fought too hard to create this new life, and she wasn’t about to let the Seven Rivers Gang destroy it.

Billy had never seen Jesse so furious. The moment he stepped out of the store, his boots stomped heavily across the gravel path. He kicked at a wooden beam supporting the building’s awning with such force that Pat worried it might come crashing down on them.

"That bitch!" Jesse roared, his voice echoing through the quiet town. "After everything we did for her, that's how she repays us?" He turned to Billy, eyes blazing with rage. "She say something to you? About her little plan?"

Billy flinched at Jesse’s snarl. "N-No!" he shook his head swiftly, meeting Jesse’s intense glare. "She must’ve come along here on her way from Rosario!"

"Like hell!"

Pat stepped in, anxious to calm Jesse and avoid drawing more attention. "Who is she, anyhow?" he asked.

"A little runaway whore I took pity on a year ago! Stupid me for thinking she’d be loyal!" Jesse snapped. "I let her outta my sight for one day —"

"Hey, c’mon!" Billy interrupted. "Don’t be that way, Jesse. You don’t know what she had to put up with out there!"

"Oh, and you do?" Jesse scoffed. He stopped in his tracks, stepping into Billy’s space, eyes narrowing. "You'll cling to anything to hang onto her, won’t you?" he growled, spit flying from his lips.

Billy held his ground. "That’s not true —"

"Are you sure? Because now my worry is you'll take one look at her, she’ll bat her big pretty eyes at you, and you’ll lose focus," Jesse huffed.

"And you won’t?" Billy shot back. "You knew her longer."

"And for reasons beyond me, she likes you better," Jesse replied, bitterness lacing his words. "Don’t fall for it, Billy! She’s a snake! A con artist! And we walked right into her next scheme!"

Billy clenched his fists, struggling to keep his composure. "Do you even hear yourself?" he asked, his voice tight with frustration. He didn’t want to believe Jesse, but the doubt gnawed at him viciously.

"You heard her in there! She's Johana. For now, anyway," Jesse spat, whirling around and striding away. Billy and Pat jogged to keep up.

"Jesse, what're you gonna do?" Billy asked, a knot of worry tightening in his chest. He had a sinking feeling about Jesse’s intentions.

"What do you think I'm gonna do? How do you think Tunstall's gonna feel knowing he's got a con woman running his store?" Jesse's voice was sharp, filled with a venom that made Billy flinch.

Pat grabbed Jesse’s sleeve, pulling him to a stop. "Hold on, now," he said firmly, forcing Jesse to face him. "Listen, I understand how pissed off you boys are. But how are you gonna look to Tunstall -- hell, how are you gonna look to Murphy -- if you go and accuse this girl of being who you say she is without any proof? Now, if she had her name and face on a poster, that would be one thing."

Billy nodded, desperate to keep the situation from spiraling. "Yeah, and exposing her doesn't serve us any purpose, Jesse," he added, his voice steady but pleading.

Jesse's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with a mix of hurt and anger. He knew they were right, even if he hated to admit it. As much as he felt betrayed by Eleanor, he had to stay focused on their mission. She -- Johana -- whoever she was, couldn’t derail their plans.

"Fine," he snapped, ripping his arm from Pat’s grip and straightening his jacket. "Leave her be. She'll be out of a job in no time, anyhow." He then turned to Billy, his eyes narrowing. "And if I find out you go anywhere near her..." His words were harsh, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes -- a hint of the pain he felt, buried beneath the anger.

"I won't," Billy assured him, though the words felt like ash in his mouth.

As they fell in step, Pat attempted to shift the conversation to something trivial. Billy nodded along, but his mind was elsewhere, a heavy lump forming in his stomach. The sight of Eleanor had stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite shake. Relief at seeing her alive and well was overshadowed by a gnawing anxiety, questions spiraling uncontrollably in his mind.

Why was she here? Was she safe? What had she gone through to end up in Tunstall's store? His heart ached with the thought of her composed, cleaned up appearance in the store clashing with the Eleanor he remembered. She was pristine and lady-like, a true Southern Belle not quite herself, and if he hadn't seen her in the store there was a good chance Billy might not have recognized her at all.

Billy’s gaze drifted back to Jesse, who was now engaged in a conversation with Pat. Jesse’s anger was palpable, but Billy could see the undercurrent of hurt beneath it. He knew Jesse felt betrayed, but he also knew how deeply he had cared for Eleanor. It was a mess, all of it, and Billy was caught in the middle, unsure of what to do or how to feel.

If there was one thing Billy could never do well, it was listening. He knew he'd pay dearly if Jesse or anyone found out where he was going.

He hadn't planned to leave the party early, but Dolan Murphy couldn't help but push Billy to perform. And perform he did. Over ten targets shot down in less than a minute—a personal best some would reckon. Despite their admiration, despite the clear impression Billy had made, he could also recognize the fear in their faces. Good. In a way, he wanted Murphy, Jesse, even the U.S. Army General to fear him.

With every shot, he reflected on how he ended up here, his mission to abolish such a corrupt system quelled when he realized he was suddenly just as wrapped up in corruption as everyone else. Dear God, if his mother saw him now...

In the wake of his demonstration, Billy left alcohol spilled, glass shattered, and a small fire breaking out over a barn threshold. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but stop and watch the U.S. Army General swig down his whiskey while he chatted with the town sheriff. He recognized the colors he wore, the brim of his hat, the markings on his sleeve. He was of the same battalion as Eleanor's husband—or would-be husband, that is. If he was here, he wondered if that same captain was here too.

He wondered if Eleanor knew that...

His feet moved before his mind could catch up, carrying him away from the chaos he'd left behind and towards the edge of town. He knew the risks, knew Jesse’s wrath would be waiting for him if he got caught. But he had to see her, had to find out if she was okay.

As he walked, the night air cooled his burning skin, but did nothing to calm the storm inside him. He remembered the fear in the eyes of those he'd impressed with his shooting skills, the way they looked at him like he was something to be wary of. It was a twisted sort of satisfaction, knowing he could instill that kind of fear. Yet it was also a bitter reminder of how far he'd strayed from the man he once wanted to be.

His mother would be ashamed, and Eleanor—he didn’t know what she’d think. She might assure him it was okay, might try to understand, but the truth was he didn’t even understand himself anymore. The lines between right and wrong had blurred, leaving him adrift in a sea of confusion and guilt.

Billy stopped at the edge of the road, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of her. He didn't know what he was hoping for, but he knew he couldn’t walk away without trying.

The roads were quiet at this time of night, a welcome reprieve for Eleanor on her evening walk home. She still didn't have a "home" per se, but Tunstall paid her just enough to stay in a nicer boarding house. No holes in the curtains, no rotten bed mattresses, and locks on doors that worked properly.

It had been days since Jesse and Billy ambushed the store, and yet she was still as shaken as though it happened moments ago. Every step she took outside, her eyes scanned the faces in the street. Every glance out a window, she wondered if they were watching her, plotting something. Sam, bless his heart, was still oblivious to any stress she was under as he continued to run the storefront, leaving Eleanor to fret over the books and accounts in the back.

She had to wonder if God had a twisted sense of humor, or perhaps he was just taunting her at this point. Taunting her with Billy, always keeping him just within reach, but never enough to have him fully. Not that she ever thought she stood a chance, not out here, anyway. She had to wonder how he became so mixed up in such nasty business. When did he come back to the gang? Did Jesse feel more inclined to let him return because she disappeared?

Ditching Jesse was a move she knew she could never recover from in his eyes, but she seized her opportunity to escape the first moment she could. After all, there was opportunity for her in Lincoln; she never stood a chance with Jesse.

Not even with Billy.

As she walked, the cool night air did little to calm the storm inside her. Her mind was a whirlpool of memories and questions, each one more painful than the last. The image of Billy's face, the anger and confusion in his eyes when he saw her in the store, haunted her. She wondered if he thought of her as often as she thought of him, if he missed her the way she missed him.

But then she reminded herself of the reality. Billy was tangled in a web of violence and lawlessness, a world she had desperately tried to escape. A world she could never fully belong to, even if her heart stubbornly refused to let go of him.

There was a palpable tension in the air, a feeling that prickled at the back of Eleanor's neck. The sensation of being watched, of unseen eyes tracking her every move, gnawed at her. She tried to shake it off, attributing it to her frayed nerves, but the feeling only grew stronger.

The street lamps cast long, eerie shadows, and every rustle of leaves or creak of a wooden plank seemed amplified in the stillness. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest, every instinct screaming at her to get to safety. Her eyes darted around, catching glimpses of movement in the periphery, shadows that seemed to loom and retreat.

She could feel her breath quickening, a tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of walking. Every step felt heavy, as if the weight of unseen gazes bore down on her. The normally comforting sounds of the night now seemed sinister, the hoot of an owl making her jump, the distant bark of a dog sending a shiver down her spine.

Eleanor's mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. Was it Jesse? Had he sent someone to follow her, lurking in the shadows to catch her off guard? She shook her head, trying to dispel the paranoia, but it clung to her, a dark cloud she couldn't escape.

Reaching the boarding house, Eleanor fumbled for her keys, her hands trembling as she pushed through the doors. The clerk was gone for the night, the sign-in book left open on the desk, and a dim candle burning at the end of its wick was the only source of light within.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, making the empty room feel even more eerie. Eleanor’s pulse quickened as she hurried towards the stairs, her breath hitching when she heard the door creak open behind her. Panic surged through her veins. Without a second thought, she reached into her bag, her fingers closing around the familiar handle of her switchblade.

She spun around, blade ready, eyes wide with fear and apprehension. But then she froze, the tension in her body melting into a mixture of relief and confusion. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim candle light, was Billy.

His eyes met hers, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before settling into a wary calm. He stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him, as if to show he meant no harm. Eleanor’s heart pounded in her chest, not from fear anymore, but from the sudden, unexpected rush of seeing him here, now. She slowly lowered the blade, but didn’t put it away, her mind racing with questions and emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

“Billy,” she whispered, the name barely escaping her lips, a mixture of relief and disbelief in her voice. She took a cautious step back, still not entirely sure what to make of his sudden appearance.

"Eleanor," he nodded, speaking softly, "Or... am I talking to Johana?"

She scoffed quietly, slipping the switchblade back into her bag, the tension flooding out of her shoulders, "Come on, quick. Before someone sees you," she whispered, fluttering her fingers to follow her. Without a second thought, Billy obeyed, Jessie's warnings be damned. He was just so glad to see her, to see her ruse falling for him.

She led him down the hall to a corner suite, unlocking the door to reveal a newer, cleaner, intact room. Billy took it all in as she drew the curtains, his eyes lingering on the small details that spoke volumes about her new life. The floral wallpaper, the neatly made bed, the organized desk—it all painted a picture of someone trying to build a semblance of stability. But the shadows in her eyes, the tension in her movements, told another story.

"Nice place you got here," he noted.

"I suppose," she shrugged as she lit the gas gamp, casting a warm glow in the room, "Bit of a step up for me, I'll admit," he noted how her voice softened, her accent wasn't so strong anymore.

"It suits you," he then glanced over her appearance, her long corduroy skirt, the matching vest with the flouncy white shirt underneath, "The whole get up suits you," She looked like a more grown up version of herself that she'd fit into with just a few more years.

"You don't have to flatter so hard," Eleanor went for her closet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, "Care for some?"

"Nah, I'm alright," he took a seat on the edge of the bed while she poured herself a glass anyway. The warm glow of the gas lamp cast a soft light on her face, highlighting the worry lines etched into her features.

"So..." she began as she sat across from him, her voice steady but low, "Who wants to go first?"

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x female!reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney smut #william h bonney x you #william bonney #william bonney x reader #william bonney smut #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #original story #original female character #imagine blog

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seventeenplug · 2 years

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The softest time (Kim Mingyu X AFAB reader)

Pairing: Idol Kim Mingyu X not idol AFAB reader (reader has breasts & vagina)

Genre: Fluff + slight smut

Warning: A few curse words, beginning of a smut but not detailed.

Summary: Many people know Mingyu, he's tall, handsome, a soft man with a strong appearance. Some were frightened of him due to his build, but he never acted that way with you or your kids.

Word Count: 1,6K words

Mingyu was the most hardworking person you had ever met, given that you two met whilst running to work. You worked a simple job, gaining a decent living wage as a kindergarten teacher.

Guaranteed that you love children, at the time you couldn't imagine yourself with a child, but then again you were also single and younger. Running for the coffee line, although it was to get tea you hurried outside once the cashier called out your name and just as you exited you bumped into a tall mall. The mask made it hard to see his face, but you barely tried to look further bowing apologetically as your tea had just wet his entire shirt.

"I'm so, so sorry. I'll pay for the dry cleaners" you hurriedly apologized, hand covering your mouth as you stared in shock. The man in front of you, sighs, pulling at the shirt that was sticking to his skin. "It's fine. It's just a shirt" he exhales tiredly. "I'm really busy, so I'll get going" he nonchalantly said, you shook your head grabbing him by the elbow. "Please, at least give me your phone number, so I can transfer you the money for the cleaners" you offer once again.

"Miss, really. It's fine" he repeats, fingers rubbing at his temple. "Please, I feel really bad about the whole situation" you said once more. You left with his phone number like you had asked for and with a final apology you left after getting another cup of tea, this time being extra careful with how you left the shop.

You carried on with your day, caring for the children whilst their parents worked, your favorite little boy, Teo, following you around the whole place, always around whatever you do. You had even begun to form a friendship with Teo's parents due to the love that the little boy had for you, almost not wanting to go home because you wouldn't be there.

That same night you called the number he had given to you, still clueless of the man's name. On the other line, Mingyu was doing a Vlive with 2 other members, watching the number display on his phone he frowned, unsure if it was you or a random sasaeng, so he rejected the call, thinking to call after the live had finished.

You shrugged, assuming he had been busy and went home when he finally called you, a little past 9PM, and after you had eaten dinner. "Hello?" You spoke into the phone. "Ah, It's you" he chuckled lightly. "Yes, I'm sorry. I guess i startled you by calling" you joked.

The conversation was quick, you once more spoke of the fact that you intended on paying for his shirt, he instead refused, asking instead for you to buy him a coffee which you agreed to, and the two of you met a week later at a café that, unknown to you, was owned by his family, so it was fairly empty, then again he chose the time right after lunch, so a lot of people were likely still eating.

The two of you hit it off right away, you also recognized him as soon as you had seen him without the mask, laughing to yourself. He even asked what you were laughing about, joining in after you told him about you finally understanding why he had said 'Oh, it's you' as soon as he had picked up the phone.

Over the months you two had gotten even closer, beginning to date 2 months after you became friends. Meeting his family after half a year together and then his group members as well.

This, was all 3 years ago, the two of you had tied the knot on the day you marked 3 years together and were now caring for a beautiful 7-month-old baby boy who you two decided to name Ha Ru, meaning day, that was because the two of you loved the idea that he could make his future day by day. Mingyu also wanted it due to its meaning in Japanese which means springtime, sun, sunlight, sunny, or sunlight, perfect for him who was born in the morning. His fans, were still clueless, or so you liked to think, since nobody had ever mentioned it. Although the pregnancy hadn't been planned, you two were more than ready to take in the challenge. You had always adored kids, and Mingyu was the perfect man, not to mention that he had mentioned the thought of expanding the family before multiple times.

He still had a duty with his company and group, he tried his best to be on top of everything, both his idol life and his private one. Seventeen was very supportive of their member, they all had chimed in to help as soon as they heard the news of your pregnancy, especially Joshua who was delighted to hear about a baby possibly keeping them company.

Now that your baby boy was 7 months old and had settled for a bit you had a little bit of freedom to get back to what you called your norm, you'd make Mingyu food and wait for him to leave his practice, sitting on the couch feeding Ha Ru when Mingyu got home. You stood up with the sleepy child in your arms, Mingyu's eyes widening at your position, shirt up, boob out and Ru sucking on it. Your husband gulped down dryly, dropping all of his belongings and making his way to you in big steps, engulfing you in a hug, his nose in your neck, smelling your fragrance.

"You okay, Gyu?" you giggled, mercilessly being tickled by your husband's breathing and nose. The big man hums, nuzzling deeper into you, although being careful with the tiny human in between you two. He pulls back just the tiny bit, eyes wandering down to your child, already asleep, milk drunk with his lips open. "He seems to enjoy what was once mine" he groaned, giving a quick kiss to your cleavage.

"I'll go set him down, dinner is almost ready. I'm going to heat it up again" you almost whisper, afraid to wake the small child. "No, don't worry. I'll go put him down. I barely have time for the two of you these days, just sit down I'll be right back" he sweetly said. You smile, the baby looked even tinier in the big arms of Mingyu who cradled the child with utter care.

You followed his instructions, sitting back down on the couch, sighing in comfort as you sprawled over it. But curiosity got the best of you as you noticed how long Mingyu was taking to settle the baby onto its crib, so you decided to check the nursery. Mingyu was kneeling on the floor, his finger being gripped by little Ha Ru who slept peacefully, you could see your husband's gentle eyes on the baby, staring at him like he was his whole world.

"Gyu..." you chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder tenderly. "I still can't believe we made something this perfect" he says, eyes blinking as he continued staring at the baby. "He has you wrapped around his finger" you joke. "It makes me want to have 10 more" you smiled, slowly realizing his words, his eyes constantly on you. "No." you frown making him laugh.

"One more then" he smirks, you laugh, giving him the perfect opportunity to grab you by the legs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "One more it is" he smirked, kissing your lips. "Wait, Mingyu. The baby" you tried to settle back down, but he wouldn't release you, keeping a tight hold of your legs.

He closed the baby's bedroom door like you had said, continuing his way to the bedroom, he sat you down on the edge, lips back on yours as his hands settled on your face, brushing your hair away from it Your heart warmed, seeing that even covered in drool from the kid, likely to me stains of milk and dressed in an old shirt and shorts he still had the sex drive that he had before you had gotten pregnant. His taste hadn't changed, although he had become way more gentle than before, a true gentleman for you especially in the bedroom.

"Honey, I really want to do it. But if you're not feeling it, or it hurts - " "I'm fine, I want you too Gyu" you assured him, pecking his lips in the most gentle of ways, he smiles into the kiss, softly lowering you down onto the bed, lips never leaving yours. He removed his shirt in a split second, getting back to kissing you right after before he tugged on your own shirt, taking it off your body.

His lips moved with a final peck to your lips, down your neck and to your cleavage, his eyes staring at your face every time he did something new watching your reaction to it. The night was long, although you had to take breaks a few times due to the baby waking up. The flame was there, and everything was sore once the sun rose. "I hope we can have a baby that looks like you" Mingyu whispered softly, his eyes staring at yours, you two were lying in bed watching the time pass by, happiness just filled with each other's presence. "I hope she has your nose" you smile, finger bopping it.

"I'll get Ha Ru, he needs to start speaking, so he can name his baby sister" Mingyu hurriedly got up, almost running to the other room to grab your child leaving you to laugh by yourself.

~~~~

Posted the 11th December 2022

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evita-shelby · 2 years

Text

Anything.

Part 3: Lizzie

A be careful what you wish for where Tommy’s three main love interests accidentally wish to be with him

Cw: murder, death, infant death, drug use, hallucinations

Gif by @nofckingfighting

“I’d give anything to be with him.” The woman said to her companion.

“Anything?” the Russian Duchess said with a curious look.

“Anything.”

Grace is shot that same hour.

Lizzie should feel bad, but Grace was never the type to make people like her for who she was.

Tommy had admitted to her the night before his wedding that he only married her out of duty.

That the Grace he had loved was the front she displayed in 1919, but he could not get out of it now.

And yet, when she told him he couldn’t come to her anymore, he and John took it out on Angel. Angel who loved her and understood that she needed to leave before her feelings for Tommy and John’s feelings for her killed them both.

So when the Russian duchess correctly inferred that Lizzie still loved Thomas Shelby ,who hides his disillusion with the golden haired woman on his arm like the best of actors, she admits the truth and seals their fate.

She is not even buried when he comes to her.

He is beautiful when he is sad, melancholy has looked so good on him, she thinks.

“Should’ve never married her, I fucking cursed her to die and I didn’t even love her.” He is rarely this open, but whenever he is it is with his family and Lizzie. Never grace, never the woman who thought he would simply get over the harm she did because she loved him.

Tommy is impossible not to love.

Once you get past the cold shell, he is warm, and sweet and loving.

If Grace’s death was the price to pay for their happiness, so be it.

But they are not happy.

His guilt drives him to make a saint of Grace. Makes his house, the house she and Ada and Lizzie had decorated, its shrine to a woman who died for him and he did not even have the decency to lover her back.

“You know what to do, Elizaveta.” The duchess says during the orgy she has invited her to.

It is there where Lizzie stains her hands red with blood as kills the informant tommy had placed inside the house.

That night, Tatiana scares Thomas into her arms and four months later, Elizabeth is signing her name as Elizabeth Shelby.

This time, Tommy marries because he wants to and not because the bride has gotten knocked up.

A year later, Victoria Grace Shelby is born.

And she is beautiful, and unlike Charles, she is his.

He knew, he knew, but did not say anything. Not even her husband did not make Grace desist from her plans to trap Thomas.

The coroner’s report Lizzie and Polly had pilfered when he told them he was marrying her proved that Clive MacMillan had been murdered, but that his widow had enough money to make them do a new report saying he had shot himself.

But the ghost is not gone.

He seeks Grace with opium and strong drinks.

He has a living woman who saw him as a man who is deserving of love despite his flaws, but he still chooses the woman who saw him as a possession she felt entitled to have because she had blue blood running in her veins.

One night they drink Absinthe to see if it was as exciting as their new friends said it was and both see her.

“You killed me!” she screams at them. “You killed me so you could be together!”

Tommy, sweet and stupid Tommy, thinks the apparition meant him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cries as Grace rages at them.

They don’t speak of it.

Best pretend that did not happen and move on.

And they do.

He takes almost everything he had of her and closes it off. He even has a witch woman cleanse the house and force Grace’s ghost to move on.

But the ghost can’t leave, and neither it’s silent companion who watches Lizzie out of the corner of her eye.

“You are cursed, Mrs. Shelby. You cursed them to wander in limbo for a man who cannot even keep it in his pants.” She sneered and spat at her feet. “Be careful with your children, demons like that feast on the sweetest and most innocent of souls.”

Lizzie is pregnant again, another girl, Ruby Elizabeth.

She is born as John lies dying in a different room in this hospital.

She is beautiful and cursed, just like her sister who is barely two years old.

The birth is difficult, there is a fever that won’t leave and her ghosts do not leave her for a moment.

“I killed them.” She confesses to Tommy, or at least she thinks it’s Tommy, in her delirium. The man in the dark suit holds Ruby like a father would. “I wished to be with you, and I killed Grace and the boy in the Russian’s house.”

“You did all that for Thomas Shelby, I wonder what you will do for your baby daughter?” it is not Thomas, Lizzie knows Luca’s voice. No other man here has that American accent like he did even when he was younger.

“Don’t hurt her!” she shouts at him and wished the demon woman would appear.

“Why would I, she’s already dead. They brought her here for you to say goodbye.” The man shows her the baby with the blue pallor of death. “You killed two people for a man, you didn’t deserve to be a mother anyways.

“You human women are so desperate, if you give me Luca Changretta, I suppose I could save your daughter. It won’t be permanent thing, just so you know.” Tatiana says and in that same second, Luca drops to the floor clutching his throat as if he had been strangulated.

Time passes and whatever Lizzie had with Tommy remains the same. They love each other, but he is more closed off.

Hardly home, reeks of other women and most recently staring at Grace’s portrait in the room he’s put them.

Speaks to the ghost more than he speaks to her.

But Lizzie doesn’t care. She has Vicky and Ruby and even little Charlie and they are enough.

Things are fine, things are cold and strange after Polly’s death, but they ---especially him--- are on the mend y the time 1933 rolls around.

And then Ruby gets sick.

Ruby who is only alive because Lizzie made a pact with the devil to save her.

“I’ll do anything you ask me to, just save her. I will give you my life if you want it, just save my child!” the mother begs the demon women in the chapel of the institute.

“Anything?” Tatiana asks with a smirk red as blood.

“Anything.” Lizzie nods. No price is too high for her baby girl.

Tommy dies from a seizure wherever he was.

Esme had found him ,but she and her band of travellers would not touch him or his things saying he was cursed and their curse would pass to them.

Lizzie stands there with her three children as they watch Arthur and Finn light the vardo and Ada speaks the eulogy.

Lizzie thinks she’s lost her mind when she sees Tatiana caress Tommy’s cheek inside the flames just as she starts to feel faint.

“Anything?” Tatiana asks as they drink champagne mixed with top tier vodka at the first Shelby Foundation Gala.

“You should write a novel, your grace. Horror suits you.” Lizzie downs the rest of her pretty glass and leaves to find Angel.

A year later, Elizabeth Stark now Elizabeth Changretta sends her congratulations to Tommy and the unlucky lady he has replaced Grace with.

#lizzie stark x tommy shelby #lizzie stark #lizzie shelby #cw: hallucinations #cw: ghosts #cw: murder #cw:infant death

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theveryworstthing · 4 years

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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weelittleweasley · 4 years

Text

my girl (f.w.)

prompt: you always knew fred would be a great dad and every day he exceeds your expectations

pairing: dad! fred x mom! reader

warnings: pregnancy, hospitals, children (yes, children is a warning), mild language, suggestion and brief mention of sex, thunderstorm, fear of thunder/rain.

word count: 6.2k

author’s note: THIS BITCH SO LONG IM SO SORRY this is the last installment of the 60s writing challenge!! thank you to everyone who has tuned in!!

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @valwritesx @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @sweeterthansammy @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3

It was laughable; the way Fred stared at your large pregnant belly with eyes full of anticipation, hands placed on either sides of it, waiting for your child to kick at his hands. You giggled as he gently whispered to your protruding stomach, “Come on, little one. It’s your daddy. Give us a little kick, yeah?” Your stomach remained still as he lightly groaned, only making you laugh. “This child already likes keeping me on my wit’s end,” he grumbled before kissing your belly. “I’m just teasing,” he whispered again to the bump. “I love you so much.”

You brush your fingers through Fred’s hair, him sighing as you do. Fred had been so darling over the past nine months of your pregnancy. He found more staff for the joke shoppe to take over the early morning shifts and the night shifts so he could spend those hours taking care of you, helping around the house, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. You were always Fred’s number one priority, but that was set in stone after you became pregnant. He would literally drop anything if you even murmured that you needed something. Fred would wake up first and get your prenatal vitamins ready for you to drink with a large glass of water, he’d make breakfast, clean the kitchen, and only then would he wake you up. You had to admit, you could get used to living like this. But alas, you were past your due date and the baby was expected any day now.

“She loves you too, Freddie,” you tell him as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at your husband who still rubs his hands over your stomach, searching for your unborn baby’s feet.

Fred looks up at you with questioning eyes. “She?” Fred could honestly care less about the sex of his child, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s all he could truly ask for. But secretly, deep down, Fred wanted a little girl, a princess. Someone who could be his princess since he had already found his queen.

You smiled with a shrug, “I have a feeling. I know it’s supposed to be a surprise, but when you know you know, don’t you?”

With that, against the skin of your stomach, pressed against Fred’s hand is two large kicks. Fred’s eyes widen as he sits up, feeling his child kick against his hands as the two of you laugh. Fred smiles wide and says, “Is that a sign?” he stares up at you with excited eyes as you cover your mouth laughing with glee. “Is that right, baby? A little girl?” he whispers to your belly, earning another two strong kicks as the two of you laugh out with delight. “A little princess and a strong one at that!” he cheers. “We’ve got a little football player on our hands, don’t we? Well, too bad, because your daddy is going to teach you all about quidditch.”

-------

The hospital room was quiet, no one daring to disturb the air that surrounded the newborn baby girl that was fast asleep on your chest. Her plump cheeks squished against your bare chest made you and Fred smile with delight. A healthy baby girl born after a brutally long labor, but it was all worth it. You softly kissed the top of her head, making her stir in her sleep.

You looked over at Fred to see him, gently wipe tears from his eyes as he gazed upon your newborn daughter. In this room, he had everything he’d ever wanted. The sight of your husband looking so lovingly at your daughter made your heart swell as you felt hot tears prick up behind your eyes. Reaching out, you cupped Freddie’s cheek as brushed away with happy tears with your thumb. Freddie looked up at you with eyes so tender and a smile so warm, you giggled out a sob. “She’s perfect,” he quietly spoke to you as you nodded your head in agreement.

She really was the most precious thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her button nose and soft features rested upon her gentle skin, tufts of strawberry blonde hair poking out from the cap the hospital dressed her in. Her lips were pink and squished against your chest as small dreaming noises escaped now and again. Your darling little girl, your little flower.

“Daisy,” you spoke softly to Fred as you brushed your daughter’s cheek softly.

The two of you had spoke about what to name the baby for a while, a few names tossed around here and there, but none of them felt right. Until Daisy popped into your head.

Fred nodded his head with a happy smile, “Yeah.” In her sleep, the baby stirred at the sound of Fred’s voice, making him scoot impossibly closer to the hospital bed, leaning close to his daughter. “How do you like that, love bug?” he cooed at the sleeping baby on your chest. “Daisy,” he smiled to himself. “I love you so much. You’re going to give mommy a run for her money,” he joked, making you roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle. Fred looked up at you and placed a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t believe we made something as perfect as she is,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

You smiled at your husband and sighed. The man before you was so perfect, helplessly in love with you and the child you created. Slowly, you peeled sleeping Daisy off of your chest and handed her over to an eager Fred, scooping her in his arms, cradling the baby close to his chest. Fred cooed down at his baby who slowly fluttered her eyes open, peering her dark eyes, that looked so like Fred’s, up at him. You laid back in the hospital bed, relaxing as you watched Fred murmur to Daisy, speaking gently and kissing her forehead and nose every now and again. As if you couldn’t fall more in love with Fred, watching him become a father was enough to make you fall in love fifty more times.

Fred rose from the chair he was sat in and started walking around the hospital room, rocking the baby and talking to her about the life she was going to have. “Just wait until Uncle George gets his hands on you,” he whispered as you silently laughed. “Grandma Molly is going to spoil the hell out of you,” he shook his head for his eyes widened and he looked at you. “I shouldn’t curse in front of our baby, should I?” he asks as you shake your head. “Damn it,” he curses again as he winces. “I’ll stop now,” he huffs making you laugh as your eyes feel heavy. The long labor had you exhausted and you had been up with Daisy feeding her and watching her alongside Fred. “Darling,” Fred cooed at you, “get some rest, please. I’ve got Daisy and she’s not due for another feeding for some time. You need to get some rest,” he tells you, walking over to the bed, helping pull the sheets up to cover you as you look up at his handsome face. “I’ll take care of our baby. Don’t worry.”

With a teasing sleepy smile on your face, you say, “I don’t know how much I trust you with a newborn child.” Fred gives you a look, making you chuckle. “I’m kidding, love, I’m kidding.” Fred kisses your forehead, your nose, and then your lips gently, him rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Fred speaks before placing another kiss to your lips softly. He sits himself in the chair again, Daisy looking sleepy again herself. He sighs before clearing his throat and gently starting to sing a melody that sounded all too familiar to you. “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day,” he sings, making your heart flutter in your chest. “When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May,” his voice is soothing, the vibrations from his chest calming Daisy down and putting her in a sleepy trance. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” his deep voice sings the familiar love song.

Fred looks at you as you watch him with a small smile on your face, tears welling up in your eyes. He was singing your wedding song to your baby. It felt like a dream. Being married to the man you’ve always loved, seeing him cradle your beautiful baby girl in his arms, singing the song you would dance to as teenagers. It was unreal, but somehow, you were lucky enough to be living in it.

“I got so much honey, the bees envy me. I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees,” he continues to sing along, slowly putting both you and Daisy to sleep as you flutter your eyes closed, happy and safe.

-----------

The drive back from the hospital was slow. Fred insisting on not driving faster than twenty miles an hour even though the speed limit was thirty. This caused many cars on the road to change lanes and shoot Fred dirty looks.

“Fred, honey, you can drive faster than this. She’s in a car seat, strapped in very well as you made sure of before we left the hospital, and the road is very clear considering everyone has driven around you,” you tell him from the passenger seat.

He shakes his head, “No way. I am remaining as safe as humanly possible. Can’t risk putting my little flower petal in harm’s way.”

But eventually, you arrived back to your house where your friends and family awaited your arrival patiently. You turned the keys in the lock and pushed the door open, Fred following closely behind you with Daisy in her carrier. “We’re home,” you sing song out at the bunches of people who awaited your arrival in your home.

Everyone rises from the couches and chairs in your home, big smiles on their faces when they see you, Fred, and Daisy enter the door. Molly gasps and covers her mouth, tears already welling up in her eyes as Fred sighs. “Ron! Mum is already crying, you owe me two galleon!” George calls out. “I call holding it first!” George calls out.

“It?” Ginny makes fun of her brother with a light chuckle as Ron cackles from the other side of the couch, earning a pillow toss in the face from George. “I reckon I should hold the baby first considering I am going to be the godmother, right, (Y/N)?” Ginny asks.

George lets out a laugh, “Hilarious, Ginny. Last time I checked it was my twin who had the baby. Surely, I will be the godparent and the first one to hold it.”

“Stop calling the baby it!” Ginny reprimands him. “The baby is a...wait, you never told us what the baby’s sex is,” Ginny looks to you and Fred as the two of you are too preoccupied laughing at the antics of the group already. You weren’t even home five minutes and there was already arguing. “So?”

You look to Fred, giving him the honor of announcing the baby’s sex. “Everyone will get a turn holding her,” he announces as Ginny cheers out in victory, Ron owing George another two galleons, as Molly and Hermione squeal in excitement. “But who ever holds her first needs to wash their hands. I don’t want any dirty paws on my perfect baby girl,” he coos into the carrier before you take off the buckle and scoop Daisy into your arms as she stretches in your arms.

Ginny and George both make a mad dash to the sink, pushing the other out of their ways, trying to wash their hands first. You shake your head with a chuckle, and look down at your baby girl who is fast asleep still, still too young to understand the chaos of a family she was born into.

Molly laughs and speaks, “While those two battle of the soap, little do they know I already washed and sanitized my hands when I came in.” You laugh, knowing Molly Weasley came prepared to be the first one to hold her grandchild.

“Wait,” Fred stops his mother before you can pass the baby over to her. He pulls a vile of hand sanitizer from his pocket and squirts two drops in his mother’s hands, just in case. You slap his arm. “What? Can’t be too safe,” he defends himself. After Molly rubs in the gel, she looks at her son, giving him a sarcastic look. “Alright, now you can hold her,” he speaks as Molly rolls her eyes as you gently place Daisy in her arms.

Molly looks down at the newest addition to the Weasley family and her lights light up. Arthur looks over her shoulder and smiles softly at the beautiful babe in Molly’s arms. “She’s just a doll, isn’t she?” Arthur whispers as Molly cradles your daughter in her arms.

George and Ginny race back into the living room only to find their mother holding Daisy instead of one of them. George groans as Ginny defeatedly flops on the couch. “Snooze you lose, children,” she teases with a smile and George mimics her before flopping on the couch next to Ginny and Harry. Molly looks back at you and Fred with a big smile. “Well done, you two,” she beams as Fred hugs you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head. “She’s simply beautiful.”

“Thank you, Molly,” you smile. “So, do you lot want to know her name?” you ask the group, earning a symphony of yes’s and please’s. You look up at Fred who gives you an encouraging nod. With a gulp, you reveal, “Her name is Daisy.” Hermione smiles widely and claps her hands excitedly. “Daisy Ginevra Weasley,” you finish.

Ginny’s eyes widen in shock at the baby’s middle name. It was important to both you and Fred that you had a family name in there besides the surname. You were insistent on giving Daisy Ginny’s name as her middle name. Ginny played a big factor in why you and Fred got together and she was always there for you every step of your relationship. It only seemed right to name your child after her. “You...you named her after me?” Ginny asks in disbelief as you and Fred nod your heads. “Bloody hell,” she whispers with a smile, tears making her eyes glassy, but she pushes them down with a shake of her head. “I don’t know what to say. I...” Ginny searches for the words, but just ends up running over to you and embracing you and Fred in the tightest hug.

You laugh and give her a squeeze before holding her face in your hands. “You’re my sister, Gin. It only made sense to name our first daughter after someone who means so much to the both of us,” you tell Ginny as she smiles, tears now spilling from her eyes. You wipe away the tears with your thumbs as Fred places a kiss to his sister’s forehead.

Ginny laughs before punching Fred’s arm teasingly. “Merlin, you lot have made me soft,” she wipes her tears with a sniffle, making you and Fred laugh. Molly walks over to her daughter and puts Daisy in her arms as Ginny gasps and holds the baby close to her chest. “Hello, little one,” she whispers as Fred holds you in his arms, smiling wide as he watches his little sister hold his daughter. The sight was enough to make you cry again. The person who had been so influential in you and Fred’s relationship was now holding your first born child. “Reckon you have quite a beautiful middle name, eh?” she laughs before taking a seat next to Harry on the couch.

“Georgina also has a nice ring to it. Daisy Georgina Weasley. It’s not too late, you know,” George tells you and Fred, making you laugh and Ginny give him a dirty look.

“Shut it, you wanker,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

“Ah, ah, ah! No swearing in front of the baby!” George tsks his sister before looking at you and Fred. “You don’t want a godparent who swears in front of children, now do you?” he continues to push Ginny’s buttons as she rolls her eyes, but continues to coo at Daisy who peels her eyes open and peers up at Ginny.

Fred walks towards George who sits in the living room chair and speaks, “Funny you should mention that. (Y/N) and I have both gone back and forth about this for a long while. And we decided that if anything should happen to either of us, we would want you to raise Daisy, George.” George’s eyes widen in disbelief as he looks back and forth between you and Fred as you smile widely. It was a no brainer deciding who Daisy’s godparent would be. George was the first person to know when you were pregnant, he made sure the joke shoppe could function the same now with Fred as a dad, he baby proofed his flat months in advance for Daisy’s arrival. George would be a great uncle and godfather to your child. “What do you say, Georgie?” Fred asks.

George engulfs Fred in a massive bear hug, making your heart swell as Molly wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into her side. Today was surely one of the best days of your life, watching your family care for this new life with so much love and tenderness. George pulls away from Fred with tears in his eyes, clearing his throat, and speaking, “Of course. Yeah, ‘course I will. If anyone lays a finger on that child consider them dead meat.” Fred laughs and hugs his brother again, the two of them sharing a tender moment.

Ginny rises from the couch and with a smile, passes Daisy over to her godfather and uncle. George holds Daisy with utmost care and carefulness. He carefully sits down and smiles at the small baby in his arms. “Hey, peanut. I’m your Uncle Georgie,” he smiles down at Daisy who yawns and stretches in his arms, pushing off her hospital cap in the process to reveal her tufts of strawberry blonde hair. “Ah, the Weasley signature,” George laughs. “Sorry about that one, (Y/N),” he winks as you laugh, sitting on the couch with Ginny’s legs folded over your lap as she kisses your cheek. “Godric, she’s beautiful, Freddie,” George gushes. “You’re gonna be a heart breaker, kid. Just like your mum before she met your dear old dad. You know it took him three times before she finally said yes to go out with him?”

“Alright, no need to embarrass me in front of my three day old child,” Fred laughs, sitting on the arm of the chair.

The whole lot of you sits in the living room, quite still, watching Daisy as she gets passed around the room, each person interacting with her, cooing at her. When she gets passed around to Ron and Hermione, Ron huffs, “So, Ginny is her namesake, George is her godparent, does that make me the cool uncle?”

With a laugh, you shake your head, “Absolutely. Every kid needs a cool uncle and aunt.”

Ron smiles, “Wicked.”

Hermione coos at Daisy, Ron gently brushing her cheek with his forefinger as Daisy yawns widely. “You are a darling,” Hermione blushes to the baby before looking at Ron with pleading eyes.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I have the daunting job of being cool uncle. Let me get that job done first before we get involved with something else,” he warns as Hermione laughs along with the rest of the group.

You look over to Fred who is already looking at you, love plaguing his eyes as you sigh happily. He smiles at you gently before mouthing an I love you, you reciprocating the action. Everything in this moment felt so right, so perfect.

----------

“You’re coming over for dinner on Wednesday, right?” Ginny confirms with you as Harry helps her into her coat, baby Lily on Ginny’s hip.

Everyone had come over for Sunday dinner at you and Fred’s house, like every other week. But as the years went by, the dinner guest list had changed and adapted to include more people. Harry and Ginny’s first child as well as Ron and Hermione’s first child became a part of the guest list along with Angelina as she was now engaged to George. It was always something to look forward to at the end of the weekend, having family over. Not to mention, Daisy was obsessed with her cousins.

“Of course. I don’t think Daisy would let us miss it,” you tell Ginny as you kiss Harry and Ginny goodbye. “Dee! Come say goodbye Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry!” you call out to your daughter who is still running around with James, Albus, Rose, and Hugo.

Daisy, now three years old, whines, “I don’t want to say goodbye, Mummy!” She stomps her foot in protest and folds her arms in protest. Daisy loved every moment she spent with her family which only made you and Fred happier. Family was so important to the two of you and the fact that her best friends where her cousins always warmed your hearts.

You smiled at your daughter and replied, “I know, darling. But you’ll see everyone again on Wednesday when we visit Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry’s house.”

Ginny chimes in, “And when you come over, I’ll let you wear my quidditch gloves like last time. How does that sound?”

Daisy’s face lights up and she immediately runs over to Ginny and hugs her legs as Ginny scoops her up and peppers her face with kisses as Daisy laughs wildly. Daisy looked up to Ginny. She always told you and Fred how much she wanted to be like her and play quidditch and fly around on a broom and win all of the games. She even started to demand being called by her middle name and not her first name, but you compromised with Daisy Gin.

Ginny places Daisy back down before calling out, “Alright, Potters! Let’s get a move on. You boys both need a bath,” she huffs when she sees chocolate smeared over both of her boy’s faces as they giggle wildly, running to Harry as he scoops up Albus and sets him on his hip. “Maybe if Uncle Fred didn’t let you eat half of the sweets bin, you wouldn’t need a third bath today,” she speaks, ruffling her hands in James’ hair, giving Fred the stink eye.

“Cool uncles let their cool nephews eat a bit of chocolate now and again, isn’t that right, James?” Fred asks, James fist bumping him in response with a wide grin.

The Potters leave the house with a final round of goodbyes and kisses before Ron and Hermione follow suit, putting on jackets. Hermione bundles Hugo up in his rain boots and rain coat as Rose appears at your feet. “Auntie (Y/N), can Daisy and I have a sleepover again?” she asks, batting her eyes at you with the most devious smile she could conjure up.

Ron rubs his face, “Sweet Merlin, Rose, you are trouble with a capital t.”

You laugh and give Rose a kiss on her forehead, “Of course we can. How about next week you can sleepover here and we can go pancakes in the morning like last time?” Rose’s eyes widen as she and Daisy squeal with excitement.

“Come on, darling,” Hermione calls over to Rose, holding her hand out for Rose to take. “Thanks again, dinner was delicious, (Y/N),” Hermione kisses your cheek goodbye.

“Don’t mention it,” you speak. “We’re still on for drinks with Luna on Friday, right?” you ask as she nods excitedly. “Brilliant. That means cool uncle and cool dad are in charge of the kids,” you beam before giving Ron and hug goodbye.

Ron laughs, “Coolest uncle. I’ve been promoted.” You chuckle before waving goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and the kids. This just left George and Angelina which was always the toughest part of the night.

George slips on his coat as Angelina follows, before he calls out. “Alright, my flower,” he speaks. “Hit me with your best one.” He holds out his arms as Daisy giggles, running into his arms and throws her arms around his neck as George picks her up and swings her around, making Daisy squeal. “Oh, Uncle Georgie loves you so much,” he kisses her cheeks before blowing fart noises in her neck, making her laugh even harder. “I’ve got a proposal for you, my darling. How about little Daisy here helps up open up the shop next Saturday? Teach her about the family business?” he tickles her sides as Daisy giggles, Angelina watching her fiancé lovingly as he entertains the child with ease. “What do you say, (Y/N)? Dad will be there to make sure Uncle George doesn’t corrupt the child,” he teases as you roll your eyes.

You sigh and look at your husband and brother in law. “Yeah, alright,” you comply as Daisy cheers while George spins her around in victory. “Only if that means Angie and I get to have a night out on Saturday.”

Angelina laughs in agreement. “Absolutely. And it’s you lot’s treat,” she adds as you smile before giving her a hug and kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, (Y/N). Thank you again for dinner.”

You watch as George dances around with Daisy, her smiling widely. George was a brilliant uncle and godfather. He was always willing to drop anything when you or Fred needed some help with her. Not to mention, he never minded playing babysitter when you and Fred needed a night alone.

Fred sighed, “Alright, Daisy Gin, time for a bath and bed. You’ve had a long day.”

“No!” she protests, wrapping her arms tighter around George’s neck, pressing her cheek against his as George laughs.

Fred pretends to gasp, “What do you mean no?”

“Uncle Georgie stays with me!” she demands. “And Auntie Angie!”

Fred’s heart swells at how much his young daughter loved his twin and his soon to be wife. “I know you want them to stay, my petal, but it’s time for bed. Besides, we’ll see Uncle George and Auntie Angie on Wednesday,” he tells your three year old as she pouts.

George speaks, “Hey, don’t be upset. That’s very soon. And besides, next time I see you, I’ll have a surprise...” This makes Daisy’s eyes light up with joy and clap her hands. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you bunches.”

“Love you,” Daisy smiles in her tiny voice as George places a kiss to her cheek, Angelina placing another kiss to her opposite cheek, making Daisy giggle. Daisy is handed off to Fred as the last couple leaves with another round of hugs and kisses.

“Get home safe! And be careful on the roads! It’s supposed to storm tonight!” Fred calls out as George and Angelina hop into their car with another wave. Fred closes the door with a sigh. Now it was just you, him, and Daisy. “Alright, you,” he teases Daisy who smiles. “I think it’s time for you to take a bath,” he scoops your daughter up into his arms, taking one of her bare feet in his hand, lifting it up to his nose. He feigns disgust. “Those stink, Daisy Gin!” he exclaims as Daisy giggles. “Mummy, we’ve got a 2342! Stinky feet!”

You gasp, “A 2342?!” Daisy laughs louder. “Get her in the bath! Stat!”

With that, Fred runs up the stairs and to the bathroom as Daisy shrieks with delight as you can’t help but chuckle. Even the simplest things Fred made fun. Each day with Fred as the father of your child was an adventure. He made the simple days extraordinary and the extraordinary days out of this world. He was the center of Daisy’s world; that baby girl loved her father more than anything. Sometimes it made you a little jealous, how much she adored Fred, but you couldn’t stay mad for too long. It was just so damned adorable how she stared up at Fred with so much idolization.

From your bedroom, you could hear Fred and Daisy sing nursery rhymes in the bath, Fred doing silly voices which only made Daisy giggle. The sang, they counted, talked about animals, and colors. Each babbling conversation made your heart swell with love.

“Mummy!” you hear Daisy call from her bedroom.

“Coming, my peanut!”

You walked down the hall and into Daisy’s room, decorated in white and yellow flowers on the walls with a bookcase filled with books and toys, and her small bed with sheets adorned with Holyhead Harpies sheets as per Daisy’s request. She sat on the bed, wrapped in her towel, waiting for you to change her into pajamas. It was your favorite part of the day.

You smiled at your daughter with freshly washed hair, wrapped in a green towel. “There’s my flower,” you smiled as Daisy kicked her legs excitedly. “What pajamas are we wearing tonight? Your Harpies pajamas are in the wash, but you have your daisy pajamas from Uncle Neville and your rainbow pajamas from Auntie Luna.” Daisy thinks for a moment before requesting her daisy pajamas from Neville.

As you change your daughter into fresh pajamas, you listen to her babble about how much fun she had with her cousins and how she couldn’t wait for Wednesday. You smiled to yourself, still wondering how you were so lucky to get the sweetest, most darling little girl in the world as your daughter. You brushed her hair gently before plaiting her red hair that matched Fred’s into two pigtail plaits. Daisy smiled at herself in the mirror as you peppered her right cheek with kisses making her giggle. “I love you, Daisy Gin,” you tell her.

“I love you, Mummy,” she bats her eyelashes, looking up at you with those big chocolate brown eyes that so resembled Fred’s. All of Daisy reminded you of Fred. From her hair to her eyes to the way she spoke, it was all so Fred which only made you love your little tike more fiercely.

You carried her back to bed, tucking her in her sheets before calling out for Fred. Within seconds, Fred appeared with a smile on his face. “Bedtime for my princess,” he smiles before kneeling next to you at her bedside. “Goodnight, my baby,” he kisses her forehead as Daisy closes her eyes with a smile.

“I’m not a baby!” she protests. “I’m a big girl! Like Auntie Ginny!”

Fred smiles as you laugh. “Oh, pardon me! Goodnight, my big girl,” he corrects himself as you lean over and give your baby a kiss on the forehead.

You run your finger through the loose strands of hair that are wispy around her face. “Sweet dreams, my girl,” you speak softly.

“Goodnight, Mummy,” she speaks sweetly, enough to make your heart burst. “Goodnight, Daddy,” she coos at Fred who smiles.

The two of you shut the lights and shut the door gently. You and Fred make your way into your bedroom, getting ready for bed yourselves. As Fred shuts the door behind him, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as you sigh. He presses a trial of kisses up your neck as you smile. “She’s getting so big,” you whine, turning around and facing Fred. He places a chaste kiss to your lips.

Fred sighs. It was true. Daisy was growing up way too fast for your liking. It was exciting, watching her become her own person. But at the same time, you loved her at this age. How small and confident she was. How she thought she was so in control. It was adorable. “I don’t like thinking about it too much,” he confesses. “But...” he trails off before starting to unbutton the buttons of your shirt. “We could prevent that...if we had another...” he suggests as you smirk. “It’s been nearly three years. Don’t you think we deserve another one?” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Another baby to keep Daisy company...”

You shake your head, “Fred Weasley, you are relentless.” You press a kiss to his lips and Fred deepens it, kissing you slowly and tenderly as you gently moan into his mouth. He smirks as he pushes the shirt you wear off your body. Quickly pulling away, you look at him. “Are you sure she’s asleep already? I don’t need our daughter walking in on a situation neither of us want to explain to a three year old,” you tell him.

Fred huffs before kissing you again, mumbling against your lips. “I’m sure.” You give him a knowing look as he groans, “Fine. I’ll lock the door. But you better get your ass in that bed.”

You giggle as Fred runs to the door, locking it as you crawl into the bed, a little too excited.

----------

A few hours later, you and Fred are fast asleep, Fred shirtless, arm draped around your torso as you wear his shirt to sleep. The sounds of rain hitting the window sound through the master bedroom, the occasional rumble of thunder here and there. To you and Fred, the rain always helped you sleep, but the youngest Weasley disagreed.

Slowly, the bedroom door creaked open further. She held onto her hippogriff plushie tightly, eyes full of worry. “Mummy?” she quietly asked into the room as you stirred in your sleep, slowly recognizing the voice. “Mummy? Daddy?” she called out again.

You woke up, sitting up straight to see your baby girl standing in the door way, fear in her eyes as she clung onto her plushie. Thunder rumbled outside as Daisy gasped, scared of the noise. “Daisy? Baby, what’s wrong, petal?” you asks, sleep laced in your voice.

She ran to the side of the bed as lightning flashed, you scooping her up in your arms as she held onto you tight, shivering lightly. Sadness coursed through your body as you realized your baby was afraid of the storm that was outside. “Aw, my flower,” you cooed as you rocked her back and forth, her sniffling into your chest. “It’s okay, my love,” you speak, kissing her head.

Fred rubs his eyes and realizing that his daughter was crying into his wife’s chest. Panic rises in Fred’s voice, “Is she alright? Do I need to call a Healer? Muggle doctor?”

You shake your head no. “Our little Daisy Gin is afraid of the storm,” you whisper to Fred who nods his head. “It’s alright, baby. Mummy and Daddy are here,” you flip yourself around so Daisy can see her father. “See? We’re here, petal. Everything is alright.”

Daisy sniffles as she looks at Fred and gives him a timid wave. Fred smiles sadly at his princess and speaks, “Hello, flower. The rain woke you up, huh?” Daisy nods her head. “Bloody rain. Should I yell at the rain? And tell it to stop bothering us?” he asks, still groggy, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

Daisy giggles and nods her head as Fred rises from the bed and walks over to the window, opening it up mid-storm despite your protests. He sticks his head out of the window and screams out, “Hey! Rain! Go away!”

Your daughter laughs madly in your arms as you can’t help but chuckle. Surely the neighbors think you have lost your minds. Fred shuts the window and climbs back into bed as you and Daisy’s laughter fades. However, the laughter is replaced with another shriek from Daisy as lightning strikes and thunder rumbles. She retreats further into your chest as you rub her back, kissing her head.

An idea pops into Fred’s head as he opens his arms for Daisy to curl into. He clears his throat and starts, “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.” Your heart instantly melts at the sound of Fred singing to your daughter like he did the day she was born in the hospital three years ago. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl,” he sings as he looks to you to join him.

“Talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” you join Fred as the three of you lay in the bed, Daisy cuddled in between the two of you, her sniffles fading. You continue to sing until her eyes start to flutter close and her mouth emits small snores. Slowly, you fade out as she is soundly asleep. Fred brushes his little girl’s hair out of her face with a soft smile. You are too occupied looking at Fred and how he stares at your daughter, your heart racing. As if he couldn’t be a better dad.

Fred looks at you with a smile. “I love you,” you tell him with a small shake of your head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more, my dear,” he speaks before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. “You’re my world. The two of you complete me. My girls.”

With that, you and Fred cuddle up to your sleeping daughter, falling asleep to the sounds of the rain.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 12) - Not So Sweet Home

Summary: Jensen is fed up with his parents ignoring Y/N all day and when he gets a moment alone, blows up on them like never before. The reader sees how upset Jensen is over what’s happening and does her best to defend him while still trying to salvage a relationship with them...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language, major family angst, mention of a dead parent

A/N: Eek! If you like angst this part is for you! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was late, the kids asleep in the guest bedroom, Jensen’s siblings and their families gone home for the evening aside from his brother. He made some half ass excuse about wanting to hang out with Jensen more but you knew he could sense what you did. Jensen was getting close to popping after a whole day of politeness on his part and his parents ignoring you on theirs.

Jensen was bouncing his knee like crazy as he sipped on his beer around a gas fire pit, suddenly stopping when you shifted in your seat.

“Maybe you ought to cool it with the alcohol tonight,” said his dad. Jensen set his empty bottle down on the grass and breathed deeply through his nose. “Your legs been-”

“Y/N, would you get me another beer please?” asked Jensen. You took the opportunity to get out of there, surprised when the back door opened quickly after you, his brother closing it behind him.

“I don’t think your parents like me very much,” you said, going to the fridge and pulling out a drink.

“I know,” he said, glancing out the dark window. “Jensen asked me to make sure you don’t come back out there.”

“He’s gonna go off on them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m guessing,” he said with a sigh. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to go well. You guys can crash at my place if you want. We don’t have a guest room but we have an air mattress we can put in the family room.”

“You think it’ll be that bad?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Then why are we in here talking about this when we should be out there making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets in the morning.”

“You might hear things you can’t unhear,” he said.

“Right now my concern isn’t if my feelings get hurt. He’s really upset and I need him to be okay.”

“You know that’s why the rest of us like you, don’t you? You care about him, the kids. You’re in love with him.”

“Yes I am,” you said as he nodded.

“You call me if either of you ever need anything,” he said, going back to the door. You nodded and took a deep breath, following him outside and already hearing raised voices.

“She’s half your age, Jensen,” said his mom. “She was your nanny. Sweetie you have to know what’s going on here.”

“You’re getting played,” said his father, catching you walking out with Josh.

“She is not half my age. She’s thirty fucking years old! She’s a goddamn adult and been through more shit then both of you put together! She’s not after fucking money,” snapped Jensen who was already out of his seat.

“You’re engaged to the girl after five months!” said his father. “It took you years to propose the first time around!”

“Because I was a nervous kid that was away working constantly. I didn’t want to make Dee stay if it was gonna make her unhappy. I’m not afraid of how I feel anymore because I feel the same about her as I do Dee and I’m not wasting my time so I can stick to your socially acceptable schedule,” said Jensen. “I love her and she’s gonna be part of this family whether you like it or not. Deal with it.”

“You need a prenup,” said his dad.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You’ve known the girl for not even six months!”

“She’s not up to anything!” shouted Jensen.

“Son-”

“Have you ever lost your wife? Have you ever been in the car and almost die yourself while you watch her breathe for the last time? Where she’s hurt and you can’t do a thing to fix it? Have you ever had to tell your children their mother is dead and she’s not coming back? You have no idea, no idea, what that does to you, how much it hurts and how much it hurts when you’re still so fucked up and your parents start making comments behind closed doors about you and you have to pretend you’re better when you’re really not. When you don’t even care about yourself anymore, when you pretend for everyone’s sake so they stop treating you like a child, when you don’t know how to tell your kids it’s okay because it’s not. It’s not. Until you go through that, until you know how bad it hurts, don’t assume a damn thing about her. She’s my best friend and she makes me feel like my old self again. I laugh and smile and have fun and when I get scared or feel guilty or freak out she makes me feel better. I don’t give a fuck how old she is or what her job was. She’s kind and good and she deserves better than you two. Danneel’s parents like her. Jared’s parents like her. Her old foster dad’s family likes her. Our family likes her except for you two. Get your heads out of your asses or you can not even bother letting me know you exist anymore. I’m done with things hurting the women I care about. I couldn’t stop what happened to Dee but I can sure as hell keep Y/N away from the two of you,” said Jensen. He huffed and walked off, Josh running off after him.

“Well congratulations. You got your hooks in him deep, don’t you,” said his father. You rolled your eyes and his mother scoffed.

“You can take care of someone without treating them like a child you know. He’s an incredibly strong person. If you don’t like me fine. But don’t call him stupid or easily manipulated or imply that it’s wrong to know you love someone after only a certain amount of time. I love your son.”

“You love his money,” said his mom.

“I do just fine on my own,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “He’s staying at Josh’s house tonight. We’ll pick up the kids in the morning.”

“He’s overreacting. He’ll be fine in the morning,” said his dad. You crossed your arms and leaned your head back. “He’ll be fine.”

“You two don’t know a thing about me and you assume I want money because of my age and my former career. Don’t assume your son will be fine and get over it.”

“We’ve known him a lot longer than you have. He’ll get over it after a night’s rest.”

“You may have known him longer and I’m sure in some regards you do know him better but not the ones that matter. If you did, you would have seen how much he would have loved for the two of you to like me. I would have taken some respect and been happy because trust me, I get how this looks to everyone else. I understand you have fears and I’m not mad you have them. I’m mad you assume those are facts when all they are is a story you made up in your head you don’t want to change. He’s right, I’m not going anywhere. The difference between him and me though is that I’ll stay out here all damn night with the two of you until you get it through your heads that I’m not here to fuck him over. I love him. I don’t have family, not really. Things have always been screwed up for me pretty much until I met him and he didn’t have to say it for me to know that he was hoping he could share the two of you with me. Maybe I was hoping for that too. But right now I’ll take some goddamn respect and an apology to your son to start and we can go from there.”

“You’re gonna curse at us and expect an apology?” said his mom. “We know you took him when he was at his low and tricked him into trusting you so you could get exactly what you wanted.”

“You know what I want? What I’ve always wanted and somehow always seems to get ripped away? A family. A stupid fucking family. Being a nanny? That let me feel like part of the family. I could pretend I was like all of those people I worked for. Nice and normal and like people gave a shit. Some kindness and a family is all I’ve ever wanted. You two...you wouldn’t have survived a day in my childhood. In my adulthood with the shitty ex boyfriend and the crappy friends and I picked myself over all of them because my mom told me to stand up for myself. Even when she couldn’t be there and I wanted her to. So I stand up for myself and now I stand up for him and those three kids to anyone and I mean anyone, that hurts them. He’s my family and those kids are my family. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do but I guarantee the only thing I will do is tell you two where to shove it and to leave him the hell alone.”

“Why would we believe anything you say? At all?” his dad asked. “It’s probably the same sad story you told him to get him on the line. I don’t buy it.”

“I have a million dollar book deal. I’ve worked rent free for a lot of rich people since I was eighteen years old. Do I sound like someone who needs his money?” you said. You put your hands on your hips and shook your head. “What is it? You want me to sign a prenup? I would but he doesn’t want one. He trusts me and for a guy that lost his wife and had to work through falling in love with another person, I respect that. He knows what he wants and he’s not wasting time. This is scary for him. It’s scary for me. But when Dee’s parents gave me open arms and kindness and their blessing, the last people I ever expected to disapprove were you two. If you’re going to stand there and keeping calling me a liar, I’m going to find your sons and I’m going take care of Jensen instead of wasting my time here.”

“We don’t disapprove of him moving on and marrying again,” said his mom as you turned to walk away.

“Could have fooled me,” you said.

“He’s going too fast and he doesn’t know you either, not well enough to make a decision like that,” said his dad. You turned around and smiled.

“He knows my favorite color. He knows what my favorite flavor of ice cream is. He knows why I have nightmares and he knows how to make me forget them in the first place. I’m sorry we aren’t doing things on your schedule but it’s his life. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with it, whether that’s me or somebody else. For the record, he knows me just fine. Oh and if this is how you plan on speaking to him again in the morning, I’ll pick up the kids myself.”

“We’re looking out for his best interest,” said his dad.

“No, you think you’re looking at his wallet for him. See money? People think that’s important and it is but best interest? It ain’t that shit,” you said as you started to leave.

“Well what do you assume his best interest is then?” said his mom.

“Treating him like an adult. He is smart and strong and the most emotionally healthy man I’ve ever met which considering all the fucked up shit he’s been through and felt the past year is really saying something. He’s your child but he’s not a child. He found someone he loves and all he wanted to do was share me with you. This was his worst nightmare and I couldn’t stop it. So if you’re not gonna even try with me, then I’m gonna protect him from you.”

“He doesn’t need protecting from us,” he said.

“You call him stupid and that he can’t take care of himself, that he can be fooled and that the person he thinks is his best friend really only wants him for his money. He knows none of those things are true but it’s what you said to him when you said that about me. For a man who went through what he did, it wasn’t mean. It was cruel. I’m gonna go fix what I can of your relationship with him because despite all that, I know you guys love each other and I’m not letting that get fucked up because you think whatever the hell you think about me.”

You stormed off around the house and found Josh’s truck still there but neither man in sight. You looked around and heard a sniffle, your head going up to the roof. You saw the lattice work on the side and climbed up, peeking your head up to spot the two of them sat on the roof.

“Hey,” you said quietly. Jensen wouldn’t look at you, Josh rubbing his back.

“Careful,” he said as you climbed up and slowly walked over. You took a seat on your bottom, spotting the window behind them. “That was my room. Jensen used to sneak out this way. I was always too nervous of getting caught to try myself. You landed the bad boy of the family.”

“Oh yeah, such a bad boy,” you said. You scooted closer on your butt to him, Jensen resting his head on his knees. “Hey. Before you even think about it don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I know,” he said. He took a deep breath but looked up, looking fairly normal aside from a slightly pink nose. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Nobody was,” said Josh. “I’ll give you guys a minute. I’ll be in my car when you’re ready.”

“You should go home,” said Jensen. “Staying in a different house won’t change anything.”

“That was kinda fucked up what they said.” Jensen raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “I don’t always agree with them. If you guys want to stay, that’s your choice but I’m not going home without telling them what a mistake they’re making.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re my little brother and I like her. Even if I didn’t, they’re being assholes and she doesn’t deserve that. You don’t. Alright?”

Jensen nodded and Josh walked off to the lattice and climbed down while you scooted next to Jensen.

“You thought your siblings weren’t gonna like me,” you said.

“He’s a good person. He’s never told off our parents before so...I don’t know if I’m happy about that or not.”

“He’s a good big brother,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t love you for your family though. I don’t care if your parents don’t like me. I’ll deal with it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I still like your dad so much better than mine,” you said.

“Yours is a monster to be fair.”

“Yeah, he is. Yours love you and I don’t agree with them but in their minds, they’re protecting you and I don’t have a problem with anyone trying to do that.”

“How are you so fucking kind to them after they basically said you’re with their dumbass son because of money?”

“Like you said, I know monsters. I know toxic and bad. They aren’t it. They raised you and I really, really like you. Good people can be stupid and still be good. In the morning we’ll try again.”

“What if I can’t get them to change their minds?” he said quietly.

“Jensen,” you said, moving to squat down in front of him. You grabbed his cheeks and he stared at you. “You don’t have to pick anybody over anybody. Maybe I won’t be close with them but that’s okay. It’s so okay. We’ll respect each other or just won’t talk to each other and we’ll figure it out but we don’t have to do it all tonight.”

“I think what bothers me the most is they’ve already made up their minds about you based on your age when they don’t even realize who you are. They don’t see that this is the kind of person you are, kind and supportive and I heard you not taking their bullshit. You’re a stronger person than I am and I wish they could see that the reason I’m not freaking out over this is cause I know you’re my partner and you got my back like I got yours. I’m just having a hard time understanding why they won’t even listen to us.”

“I don’t know,” you said, eyes darting to the window when you caught some movement inside. You narrowed them and glanced down, spotting the crack between the windowsill and frame. “I’m a little cool. I’m gonna get my sweatshirt if that’s okay.”

“Careful climbing in,” he said, turning on his bottom and pushing the window up. You kissed his cheek and climbed inside, the room empty as far as you could tell. You stepped out to the hall and into his old room, getting your hoodie, his old hoodie. You pulled it on but went downstairs, catching his parents in the kitchen with Josh.

“Josh may I speak to your parents in private,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m done here. I’ll be over for brunch, okay?” he said. He walked past you and caught your arm. “Call me if you need me back.” You nodded and he kissed your temple before he went out.

“Were you eavesdropping on us?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“We went to tell him to get off the roof. We could see him from the backyard up there,” said his mom, putting her back to you as she mixed up something in a mug. “But we heard the three of you talking and then the two of you. We didn’t mean-”

“We are all on the same side. His side. We should get along. It shouldn’t be this difficult and I don’t appreciate private conversations being listened in on. But I hope you understand that you hurt your son. I know you didn’t mean to and it’s the last thing you’d ever want to do to him. But you did. So please try to help me fix this. This isn’t easy for me to accept that you don’t like me either but you’re gonna respect me. If we can respect each other, then he’s not going to worry as much at least. Please promise that we can agree to that,” you said. His parents looked at each other and you sighed. “You have to be kidding me. What do you want me to do? Go away? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

“That’s not...Jensen called your father a monster up there,” he said.

“I thought it was a sob story according to you ten minutes ago.”

“You said you don’t have parents. He said your father is alive.”

“What’s your point, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Please enlighten me.”

“It doesn’t make much sense to tell different stories,” he said.

“You can’t even give me the benefit of the doubt that I love your son. Why the fuck would I tell you things only he knows, things so few people know about. Why would I trust you with the worst parts of my life when you don’t accept the best ones. For your information, my birth mother is dead. My adoptive mother is dead. I wish my son of a bitch father was dead. The only glimmer of a parent I have maybe, maybe was my foster father. That was until last weekend. I met some parents. I met Dee’s. I met Jared’s. I got the same message from all of them. Let us know if you ever need anything. Oh the way he looks at you. You must be pretty special. Anything at all, you give us a call. People that don’t even have an obligation to look in my direction treated me like I was their kid. So maybe he and I both got our hopes up with you two and that was on us. If you want to pick apart what I’ve said and call me a liar…” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Your shut your eyes and breathed deeply, turning around. “I don’t care if you have to pretend to respect me. Just do it for his sake and the kids sakes, alright?”

A tissue appeared over your shoulder and you took it, blowing your nose and stepping away.

“When did your mother’s pass?” you heard behind you. You threw your head back and took a deep breath.

“When I was born and when I was sixteen,” you said, turning around and swallowing. “Why does that matter?”

“When were you adopted?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Please.”

“I was eight,” you said.

“So you only had your mother for eight years then,” he said.

“Yeah. She got sick when I was fourteen. I stayed with her boyfriend until I moved out for my first nanny job at eighteen. It was all very sad and angsty,” you said.

“Who made the first move?”

“I’m done with this interrogation,” you said. You started to leave but he stepped in front of you. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know who made the first move, you or Jensen.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off. “We had a fight. I told him I didn’t want him to be my friend anymore, he was just my boss and that was it. We couldn’t hang out at night and stuff anymore.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want him to hurt me,” you said quietly. “I didn’t fit with his life. I’m not a pretty actress. I’m not smart. I’m the younger nanny and that’s all I was gonna be until I became an older nanny and that was supposed to be my life. I didn’t ask for…”

“For what?” asked his mother, carrying over her mug and setting it down on the end table.

“I didn’t ask for him to love me. But he did and I don’t know why but I trusted him not to hurt me. It’s not fairytales and roses all day every day but I like having a best friend and I never would have submitted those books to a publisher without him encouraging me and I need him to feel better. He can’t catch a break lately and I hate seeing him upset. It makes me sick to my stomach and I really, really need him to be okay so please stop doing this. Just stop. Please. I don’t care if we have to pretend the rest of our lives but please, I can’t keep seeing him take hit after hit anymore and not being able to stop it.”

You weren’t expecting the hug from his father or to bury your face in his chest for a brief moment. His mom guided you to sit on the couch, pulling a blanket around you. She handed you the mug and you saw it was hot chocolate, your eyes darting back and forth between them.

“This isn’t about to be like a lifetime movie where you murder me, right?” you said.

“No,” said his mom as she sat next to you. “We hurt you quite deeply today, didn’t we.”

You stared at the mug, holding it in your hands.

“You were looking forward to meeting us,” said his dad as he sat down on your other side.

“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is him.”

“I don’t think he’d be very happy with you laying down for a semblance of normalcy for him,” he said.

“Just spit out whatever the fuck you want,” you said. You gripped the mug and shut your eyes.

“I’d like you to stop swearing please,” he said. “In exchange, maybe we can have a second chance.”

“Second chance at what?” you said dryly.

“At meeting our son’s fiance.” You lifted your head and stared at him, catching a bashful look you saw in Jensen every so often. “We understand, as well as we can, he was hurt after Danneel. We can’t fix those problems like when he would scrape his knees. We knew he was in a vulnerable position and things between the two of you seemed so fast for how in pain he was. We thought of the worst of you before knowing you and that wasn’t right of us. We were trying to protect him. But like you said, we all try to do that. So if you’ll let us, give us a second chance.”

“For him, I will give you both a second chance,” you said. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this but this sort of thing isn’t going to go away just like that, for him or for me.”

“Is there anything…” said his mom as you shook your head. “We are sorry for before. Truly.”

“I know. Trust is difficult for me on a normal day. You guys kinda tore through the safety nets I thought I had with you. I need to build them up again is all.”

“That was you that said that, people have safety nets,” she said. You raised and eyebrow and she sighed. “Jensen, months back, he told us his therapist told him that, put things in perspective.”

“I guess couple’s are kinda each other’s therapists,” you said. “Sometimes they just need to vent to each other too.”

“Before you said...has he ever been to one?” asked his dad.

“Last weekend was...intense. I went to one as a child and he talked to him for a little while, helped him put things in perspective,” you said.

“Intense? Did you fight?” she asked.

“He and JJ got stung by a scorpion. It was a little serious. We went out the next night and I made a comment and he took it a different way and he got upset thinking I thought of myself as being less in his eyes than Dee was. I know it’s not true, it’s just different. He’s been having a really great week aside from today.”

You took a sip of the hot chocolate and went back for more, drinking half the mug down.

“We screwed up,” said his dad with a sigh, sitting back against the couch.

“Yeah but he’ll forgive you,” you said. “This is really good Mrs. Ackles.”

“Thank you sweetie and call me Donna. I made it for Jensen. He’s always liked it when he was living here and having a bad day.”

“Why do you think he’ll forgive us?” asked his dad as Donna got up.

“Because he’s Jensen. He’s not an angry man. Angry in moments but he doesn’t hold onto anger. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. So I know he’ll forgive you. When I’m not sure of but it won’t be forever.”

“Have you two ever fought badly?” he asked.

“We’ve had a few fights. Mostly small and when we’re both tired or hungry. We had a big one a few weeks ago when he got home but we talked about why it happened and how to make sure it doesn’t again,” you said. Donna carried over a kettle and poured more hot chocolate in your mug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don't ask about fights Alan. It’s not our business. We should let them tell us what they want,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

“They probably should have had a big fight at least once to know if they can work through those things and it sounds like they have,” he said when he turned to you. “I know you’re probably love struck but marriage? That’s a lifetime of putting in the work.”

“Alan if I didn’t care about putting in the work I wouldn’t be down here right now. I know I don’t know everything I’m signing up for and no one really does but I know him and the kids and that’s worth the parts I have to work at.”

“You sound older than you look.”

“Age doesn’t always equal life experience,” you said.

“I suppose not,” he said. He stood and took a deep breath. “I do apologize for thinking the worst of you and not giving you a fair chance upfront.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m going to bring this up and check on him.”

“Can I ask one last thing?” asked his dad. You nodded and he looked over to Donna who gave him a short nod. “Josh said you really love him.”

“I do.”

“Do you think he loves you the same way?”

“I know he does,” you said.

“How are you so sure?”

“How are you so sure your wife loves you?” you said. “Goodnight Alan.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his mom catching up with you in the foyer where the stairs were. You gave her a tired smile and she nodded.

“If I told you something, would you keep it a secret from Jensen?” she asked.

“No,” you said with a smile.

“I had to try,” she said. “We’re not like this by nature. Something happened he doesn’t know about when he was recovering that put us off to you. A woman. A young woman at his physical therapy.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly. She took a seat on a step and you sat beside her. “If someone tried to take advantage of him, you should have told me and him. He thinks you guys have gone nuts, no offense.”

“You’ll find with time you’d rather have your child safe and upset at you than the other way around,” she said.

“What happened?”

“We moved down to the house for a few months to help Jensen. He went to physical therapy. A very good place. A family friend works there and got him in and he regained a lot of strength in his leg quickly because of it. There were nurses that often helped and he worked with a few regularly and they develop a relationship and all that. It’s good for morale and healing we were told. One of these girls was about your age and our family friend overheard her gossiping to a friend on the phone during a lunch break.”

“Gossiping about…” you said. “Jensen?”

“They saw an opportunity to manipulate him. He is smart, smarter than the both of us together, but he was going through the motions that first month. She made him smile a bit. She flirted with him. Our friend told us what she’d said and we realized, he could be hurt again. Taken advantage of for what he has, what he can offer. His sudden shift in mood this year, introducing you as a fiance, made us think we’d failed to protect him this time.”

“Why not tell him that?” you asked.

“And tell him he was being manipulated back then? He’s so adamant that it can’t happen to him but we know different.”

“I think you should tell him, Donna. It makes your reaction today seem not so…” you said, her head shaking.

“Ma,” you both heard. You looked over your shoulders, Jensen sat against the wall at the top of the landing. “Mom. Jerry told me why I got a new nurse when it happened. She was nice, or was pretending to be, I don’t know. But I didn’t like her. I never got manipulated and I was never going to.”

“How long-” you said, Jensen rubbing the back of his neck. “You heard everything.”

“Yup,” he said, popping his p, his dad coming over to the bottom of the stairs and staring up. “I don’t want to talk to either of you right now. Y/N, I’d like to go to bed, please.”

“Accept their apology Jensen. You can hash out the rest of this in the morning but accept that they know they were in the wrong,” you said.

“Why should I?” he asked, cocking his head.

“We both got hurt out of their love for you. They are not monsters and I know the difference,” you said. “You know too.”

“Will you two ever look at me the same again,” said Jensen, staring at the landing.

“Honey it was a fight. It’ll be alright,” said his mom, his head shaking.

“Ever since I woke up in the hospital, you two look at me like I’m a kid. Like I’m weak and defenseless. But I’m not. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been and this whole day could have been avoided if you treated me like your adult son, not the kid who fell off his bike and cries over a cut. I needed you two to take over, I did, I honestly did after the accident. I couldn’t take care of myself let alone the kids. But you haven’t stopped thinking I can take care of me again. I can. I do. I know I’m your kid but let me be an adult again. Trust me. Please.”

“Come here,” you said, holding out your hand. He slid down the steps and you stood up and aside, letting him get a hug from his mom and then dad.

“We’re sorry,” said his dad.

“I know,” said Jensen quietly. “Never do something like that again. Ever.”

“We won’t,” he said. You leaned against the wall and sipped on the hot chocolate, Jensen’s nose twitching.

“That’s my cocoa,” he said, turning his head up at you.

“I just Jerry Springer’ed ya’ll. I get the cocoa. Get your own,” you said. He smiled and you gave it right back, his parents pulling off and bringing him to his feet.

“Come here,” said his dad as his mom dragged him off towards the kitchen with the promise of hot chocolate. You stepped down until you were about his height and took a drink, licking your lips when you finished. “How do you just let that go? You were so angry before.”

“I’ve been to therapy. I have good diffusing skills,” you said.

“Is that a joke?”

“Not really,” you said with a smile. “You made a mistake because you love him. I’m gonna make mistakes because I love him. So when I screw up, now you owe me one, deal?”

“I know it’s getting late but would you be willing to stay up a while longer, maybe find out that favorite color?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, stepping down.

“Depends on the day,” said Jensen, stepping out with a mug of his own.

“He’s right,” you said. “You okay to stay up a bit?”

He nodded and walked back to the family room, taking your hand.

“Better?” you whispered to him.

“Yeah. Not all the way but definitely better honey.”

It was warm when you woke up the next morning. You peeled open an eye and caught Jensen laying awake, staring at his ceiling. You kicked off the blankets and he reached an arm out, pulling you to lay on his chest.

“It’s hot in here,” you mumbled, eyes shutting again.

“There’s a box covering the vent,” he said, dancing his fingers lazily over your bare arm. “It’s almost noon.”

“Seriously?” you said into his chest, nuzzling against his soft skin.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re out back with the kids,” he said. You nodded and felt him move his fingers all over you, soft and light, absentmindedly tracing patterns every so often.

“Still upset?” you asked, his head nodding. “They’re human. They fuck up.”

“Are you angry?”

“I was. Not anymore. I kinda like ‘em actually.”

“Why would you give them a second chance?” he asked.

“When I got adopted I didn’t like, instantly love my mom. I was scared of her at first. I don’t know, I get that you can not like someone at first and then love them unconditionally, you know? It’s weird but your opinions can change once you get to know someone.”

“I don’t do a very good job of protecting you from things,” he said, tilting his head, moving a few hairs behind your ear. You looked up at him, his fingers playing in your hair behind you.

“Honey you went off on your parents last night. I bet you’ve never done that to them. You were trying to protect me and you did. No one has ever protected me the way you do,” you said. “Today is a new day and I’d like to get to know my new family some more.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll follow your lead.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 13 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen x reader #jensen series #rpf #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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realcube · 3 years

Text

BABYSITTING WITH HIM

characters ♡ oikawa, tendou & sakusa

tw ♡ children, cursing & mentions of arson

TŌRU OIKAWA

♡ he is pretty much a professional babysitter, or so he thought

♡ which is why he accepted when you asked if he could help you take care of your nieces/nephews for the weekend

♡ i mean, he takes care of his nephew all the time so how hard could babysitting possibly be? it was basically a free pass to spend the day with you

♡ however, he began to regret his decision as he sat on your couch and realised that he wouldn’t be able to get even somewhat intimate with you when there was constantly an annoying little boy clinging to his arm, asking him if he had any games on his phone

♡ “sorry, kid.” oikawa smiled, clenching his jaw to hide the rage but it wasn’t very effective, “i’ve not got any games. maybe you could go play with your toys or something.”

♡ he let out a sigh, making the mistake of thinking that would be the end of their interaction

♡ “can’t you just download some?” the boy retaliated

♡ you snickered, watching as the energy visibly drained from oikawa, yet he still wore his frighteningly bright grin

♡ “i’ve not got any storage.”

♡ “then delete some of your apps or photos.” the boy said with a shrug, then proceeded to point at oikawa’s home screen, which happened to be a picture of him and you in front of an ethereal sunset, “start with that one. you both look like dorks.”

♡ you and oikawa’s unified gasps of offence were enough to show the boy that he was able to do exactly what he intended; piss y’all off

♡ hence, with a final mischievous snicker, he dashed off

♡ “i hate kids.” oikawa muttered, inspecting his homescreen to see if he really did look like a ‘dork’, “what is his problem?”

♡ “what if our kids turn out like that?” you joked

♡ his eyes widened momentarily, turning to look at you with an uncharacteristically sheepish expression, “our w--”

♡ “mr kawa!” a cry could be heard from the kitchen so without hesitation, you both hopped to your feet and rushed over there as quick as you could

♡ once you both reached the area the yell came from, you were fortunately not greeted by anything gruesome

♡ instead, you both got to behold two children trying to reach the top shelf with the power on friendship; the taller boy was standing on a chair, while the toddler held it still

♡ however, his grip on the jar of the Nutella must’ve loosened at some point as it now lay dejectedly on the ground, half spilled across the tiles and the other half drenching the toddler, not that they seemed to mind though

♡ in fact, it looked like they were having the time of their — albeit, short — life

♡ the container was only plastic, hence you didn’t have to worry about shards when you darted over to the poor, chocolate-covered baby and scooped them up into your arms, “are you guys, okay?!”

♡ “yeah.” the boy chuckled, noticing that holding the toddler was transferring the chocolate onto you too

♡ “if you wanted nutella, you could’ve just asked.” oikawa sighed, helping the boy get down safely from the chair before putting the object back at it’s intended spot at the dinner table

♡ “you could have gotten seriously hurt! i thought you would know better than to do something like this.” you scolded, becoming even more furious as the baby continued to playfully slap your face with their grimy hands, “please don’t do that again.”

♡ before they boy got the chance to do anything besides murmur a vague apology, oikawa interjected, “they won’t get the chance.”

♡ and he was right

♡ after cleaning everything up (including the child, which took forever), you didn’t let either of the rascals out of your sight until your duties as babysitters were complete

♡ “i think we handled that pretty well.” oikawa mused, gathering his stuff along with you as you both got ready to leave

♡ “yeah, maybe we should do this again sometime.” you suggested, but it was followed by a few second was complete silence

♡ until you both burst out laughing

♡ “yeah, never again.” you agreed

♡ “the kids can take care of themselves.” oikawa said with shrug, offering his hand to you, before you both strutted out of the disaster house

♡ ever since then, it was a common inside joke between you to, when in the vicinity of a kid causing mayhem or being a nuisance, whisper to each or exchange a look that says, ‘it’s a great day to not be babysitting.’

SATORI TENDŌ

♡ at first, you thought that asking tendou for help babysitting would be a bad idea bc he is just as hyperactive as the damn kids sometimes so he’d probably not be the best influence

♡ and you knew this bc one time you happened to run into him while out in the park with the kids and you asked him to watch them for literally a minute so you could run to the bathroom but when you came back all you almost had a heart attack because tendou was teaching them fkn tricks on the monkey bars

♡ however, you then realised that if the kids were busy committing arson with uncle tendou, then they wouldn’t be bothering you

♡ so here you are, playing monopoly with your boyfriend, a seven year-old and a one year-old

♡ well, it was less like monopoly and more like debate class since none of you could agree on the rules

♡ “well, uncle ten,” the older sibling began, in a very matter-of-factly tone, “if i burn your property down, then i don’t have to pay you for landing on it.”

♡ “but then you also go to jail.” you pointed out

♡ “not if the police don’t catch me.”

♡ you burst out laughing, meanwhile tendou kept his business face on, “good point, but watch this.” tendou spoke as he rolled the dice, though no matter what if he got a number between four and seven, he would end up landing on somebody’s property

♡ he got a four

♡ picking up his piece, he moved it across each square individually and once he was due to land on your property, he knocked his piece over

♡ “whoops, i slipped.” he chuckled, though his friendly aura immediately dropped as he looked you dead in the eye and said, “i’m suing.”

♡ “you can’t sue me because you tripped!” you yelled

♡ “i guess i just fell for you.” he said, resulting in the kids both making gagging noises before he stuck out his hand, “100 monopoly dollars, please.”

♡ “like i said,” you tried your best to stay strong and not laugh at his shitting pickup line, “i’m not giving you any money, you fell!”

♡ “i guess we’ll have to take this matter to court then.” tendou said, tapping the shoulder of the one year-old who was currently chewing on a 500 bill which you quickly had to confiscate

♡ “judge, do you think (y/n) owes me 100 monopoly dollars for poor health and safety conduct?”

♡ “yes.”

♡ “that is the only word they know how to say!” you cried, begrudgingly handing over the money

♡ “thank you, angel.” tendou cooed, adding your singular bill to the pile he had already stored up; the winner of the game had already been decided

♡ and although you and the seven year-old kid both cried later after getting your asses kicked in monopoly (the one year-old cried too but they were just hungry), you all went out to get food and actually had a pretty good time

♡ it became a routine for tendou to help you babysit whenever he got the chance and y’all would always play table top games

♡ also when tendou got accepted into culinary school, he’d teach/show the kids what dishes he has learned to prepare and let them help by stirring the pot, adding spices etc etc

♡ and even when he moved to Paris, on special occasions, a box of chocolates would suddenly appear at the kids’ door and all the little pieces would be shaped and moulded into some of their favourite characters or made out of their favourite flavours

♡ and at one point the kids even insisted that you teach them how to make chocolates so they can send some back to uncle tendou <33

♡ they weren’t the best, but when tendou received the misshapen, slightly stale chocolates at his apartment, addressed from you and the children, he cried

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

♡ his first response when you asked if he could help you babysit was ofc ‘ew no 🤢’

♡ needless to say it took a lot mansplain manipulate malewifing to convince him to come over

♡ but once he did, obviously he was in his full protective gear; there was no way in hell he was going to catch whatever germs the little goblins have

♡ honestly he almost sprayed a chid in the face with hand sanitizer when they came running up to him with open arms, trying to give him a hug

♡ which was unusual because the kids don’t tend to be overly friendly with new people, but you just brushed it off and figured that sakusa must’ve been an exception

♡ during his time babysitting, sakusa spend most of his energy trying to avoid the children at all costs that it basically became a game of tag, with you helping the child try to reach sakusa, and him hiding

♡ but honestly you couldn’t complain since the whole time the child was playing, they were safe with you rather than playing with fire

♡ until later you were reminded of their odd fondness for sakusa when they insisted that sakusa carry them to their bedroom when it was their nap time

♡ and as you were shifting through the books, looking for a story to read, it hit you why they seemed to be so familiar with sakusa

♡ it’s because he looked exactly like the prince in one of their favourite story books; same hair, both tall and they even had similar moles to each other

♡ upon noticing this, you immediately showed sakusa and was quite amused

♡ in fact, he found it so cute that he gave both you and the toddler a lil’ kiss on the cheek, as a parting gift — mask off and everything

♡ he ended up reading the story and the kid fell into deep slumber by the time he reached the second page

♡ letting out a sigh of relief, sakusa slumped onto the ground, allowing his own eyes to flutter shut for a moment, “what a day.”

♡ you shuffled over to you could lay down beside him, “indeed it was, prince sakusa.”

♡ “shut up.” he teased, poking your rib slightly before absently intertwining his fingers with your own

♡ next thing you knew, you were both awakened by the sound of a grumpy toddler...

#sakusa x y/n #hq sakusa #tendou x you #tendou imagine #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa headcanons #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa fluff #tendou x reader #haikyuu tendou #tendou drabble #tendou hcs #sakusa scenarios #sakusa x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa headcanons #👾fluff #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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novaiya · 4 years

Text

Diamonds and Rust - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: It’s been six years since you left it all behind; the Van Der Linde gang, the outlaw life and Arthur Morgan. Since then you’ve gone straight, becoming a rancher and a wife. What will happen to all of it when Arthur comes bursting back into your life, bringing with him all the feelings and desires the two of you once shared?

Words: 3,274

Warnings: smut, female reader, pregnancy.

A/N: I’m very, very proud of this fic and I really hope you guys like it as much as I do. I wrote the entire thing in basically one sitting (blame it on excitement and inspiration). The idea came to me after listening to Joan Baez’s song Diamonds and Rust (and that is of course where the title comes from). Give it a listen, it’s a beautiful song! If you prefer, you can read it on AO3 here.

Well, I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again - Diamonds and Rust

You knew he was around as soon as you heard about a big group of people, men, women and children, passing on wagons through your town. The shopkeeper in the general store said that the group looked like bad news, the look with which they eyed everything and everyone belonging only to people who were running from something. On another day, you were at the train station, posting a letter, when you heard one of the postal workers say the name “Tacitus Kilgore” while rummaging through a bin. That sealed the deal for you, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he found you.

For the next few days you couldn't do anything but wait, expecting him to barge back into your life at any moment. Your husband noticed your absent-mindness, and tried to inquire, but you waved him away, blaming your mood on overworking.

Your husband didn’t know your past. You told him that you ran away from home when a group of outlaws attacked your house, killing your parents and stealing anything worth selling. That wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. What you omitted to mention was that later when you had nowhere to go, another group of outlaws found you, took you in and became your new family. You spent the next few years with them, moving from place to place, robbing, killing, and stealing. It was there that you fell in love for the first time.

Shortly after you joined the gang, you and Arthur became a great team, and later on, a strong couple. As the time went on though, you realized that you couldn’t live on the run forever; you wanted a family, a stable life, a house with a kitchen and a bath. You shared your feelings with Arthur, and he promised you that everything would change, that the two of you would run away, to Mexico, or maybe California, and start a new life. The new life was always at the end of “one last score,” which never seemed to come.

After yet another similar conversation, you realized that if you didn’t leave at that moment, you never would. The moonlight casted its light on Arthur’s sleeping face as you looked at him one last time, burning the image of him into your memory. Without turning back, you mounted your horse and left.

Although seeming asleep, Arthur was awake the entire time. He felt you leave the cot, stand next to it for a few minutes and then leave. He heard the hoofbeats in the quiet night, becoming softer and softer until they completely disappeared. He wanted to go after you, bring you back, but he realized it would be selfish. What you wanted, what you deserved, he couldn’t give.

It's been a week since you heard the name “Tacitus Kilgore” in the post office, and Arthur still hasn't shown. You let yourself relax, thinking that maybe it wasn’t him in the first place, or maybe he has forgotten about you. It’s been six years after all.

Few days later, your husband had to go take care of his mother couple of towns over. He asked if you wanted to go with him, but you declined; someone had to stay and take care of the ranch, protect it from cattle rustlers and wild animals.

You helped him load up the wagon, making sure to pack extra clothes and food for the trip. You kissed him, the kiss being longer than what was necessary for a trip that would probably take only three days at most.

The wagon disappeared in the tall trees as you stood at the entrance of your ranch, waving your hand until there was no one to wave to. The cold, fresh morning air filled your lungs as you took a big gulp of it. You turned on your heels, heading back inside and preparing for a day of work.

Your day was mostly spent tending to the cattle and cleaning up. When the sun started to set, painting the sky a mix of purple and red, you went into the main house and prepared dinner. You pushed the food around on the plate. The suffocating emptiness of the house made you once again think about expanding your family. The time was perfect; the ranch was making money and the house was the right size with two extra rooms sitting unoccupied and being used for storage. But, it seemed that it wasn’t for you to decide; you and your husband have been trying for months now, yet nothing was happening.

Trying to muffle the thoughts in your head, you got up from the table and took your plate to the sink, leaving it there to be cleaned tomorrow.

The cotton nightgown felt cool on your skin as you changed into it. The oil lamp on your bedside table was just bright enough to illuminate the clock on the wall, indicating that it was far past your bedtime, and if you wanted to get anything done tomorrow, you should go to bed right away. You sighted, getting ready to go under the covers when you heard a knock on the front door, as sudden as thunder on a sunny day. You froze, your body trying to decide whether to fight or flee. You carefully left your bedroom, mentally cursing when the floorboard creaked under your feet as you inched closer to the front door. Another knock came. Your eyes flew to the shotgun by the door. Your breath came out shaky as you were preparing to grab it, open the door and shoot straight through whoever it was.

And then you heard it, his voice saying your name. You felt like you were drenched in cold water, six years worth of bottled up emotions and feelings flooding straight through you. Without thinking, you opened the door, meeting face to face with his blue eyes.

"Arthur."

The only thing illuminating the living room and the two of you was the fire from the fireplace. You could feel the heat from it kissing your bare arms. You went into the kitchen, bringing back one shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. You poured a glass for Arthur, placed the bottle on the table, and sat down on the couch next to him.

He downed it in one go before silence fell over, nothing but the occasional sound of wind howling outside.

"Beautiful ranch you got."

"Thank you," you said, keeping your answer short and not looking at him.

You could feel the weight of his stare on you; it’s been six years since he last saw you. You've changed so much, and at the same time, haven't changed at all. You still kept your hair the same length, still had the same longing gaze in your eyes, yearning for more in life. He saw that you still had a scar on your hand, the one you got when an O'Driscoll pierced it with his knife. Arthur said it would fade with time when he was bandaging it. Looking at it now, he realized that things don’t fade away so easily.

His eyes lingered on your hand for a moment, noticing a ring on your finger, the gold band shining brightly in the dimly lit room, taunting him.

"So, you got married?" he said, his voice laced with venom as he spoke the last word.

"I have," you replied, casting your eyes down to the golden band. "Couldn't wait for you forever." Your words pierced right through him, leaving yet another wound he would need to tend to later. For the past six years, he held a naive, wishful hope that when the time would come, you’d be there, waiting for him. The idea, as absurd and foolish as it was, kept him hopeful for the past six years.

"What's his name?"

"Don't," you said, turning around to Arthur for the first time since you sat down. "Don't do this."

The two of you fell silent once again, and you used that moment to look over Arthur. You could see the traces of the person you loved six years ago; he still had the same scars scattered across his face. His eyes, although sadder now, still had the same color to them. His arms, the ones that held you on many nights, still had the same muscular shape.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, catching your eyes. "It was my fault the things ended up the way they did."

You didn’t say anything, casting your eyes downwards, so he continued.

“I was awake, you know, the night you left.”

You gulped down, the memories of your departure from the camp filling your mind.

“I should’ve never let you go.”

"I should’ve never left." The words left your mouth before you could process them. You have promised yourself to never vocalize these thoughts, the thoughts that a part of you that never left him, that have been longing for him for the past six years, felt.

The atmosphere in the air shifted. You could feel the change in Arthur's eyes and his demeanor. He reached out and took your hands in his, running his thumb over your knuckles and your golden band. His other hand reached up to you, cradling your head and bringing the two of you closer. You could feel his breath on your lips, smelling of the whiskey you poured him a few minutes ago. Your mind was on fire. For a moment, you felt that you were six years in the past, sitting on a bed in a crummy hotel room in some beatdown town. The law was on your tail, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered when you were with Arthur.

He pressed his lips against yours and in an instant, you forgot where you were. Your hands moved on their own, reaching and waving your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. He groaned against your mouth, his hand leaving yours and moving up the curve of your body, over your hips and your waist, stopping around your chest. You felt him palm you over your chemise, and for a second, you felt your mind clear. The guilt came in flooding. You felt his tongue lick over your bottom lip and you winced, breaking the kiss and trying to get away from him, pushing yourself deeper into the couch.

"I can't do this," you said, more to yourself than to Arthur.

You felt his hand on your knee, hot against the cool skin. You wanted to move, wanted to slap his hand away, but you didn't. His hand inched higher up your leg, reaching the end of your chemise.

Arthur looked at you, his hand still on your thigh. "You tell me to stop and I will. I will leave and never bother you again."

You hesitated for a moment, battling with yourself till you finally said, “Stay.”

He covered your body with his, pinning you against the couch. His lips moved against yours in a dance that the two of you knew well, having rehearsed it for years and years before. One of his hands was back on your thigh, massaging the skin as he moved dangerously close to your heat. You felt his fingers run over your clothed slit, pressing against your clit and making you push your hips towards him.

His lips left your mouth, moving to your neck, kissing down your throat and to the crook of your neck. You could feel yourself getting wet as he kept kissing you all over, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your clothed clit. He removed himself from you and pulled off his suspenders. You sat up, your fingers reaching out and working on the buttons of his shirt before throwing it on the floor. You ran your hand up his body, through his chest hair and stopping over his heart. You could feel it beat wildly against his rib cage.

You felt hazy as he kissed you once again. In a minute, your chemise was on the floor, joining his shirt in a pile and leaving your top half naked to him. He laid you back down on the couch, sitting on his hinges between your spread legs. He made sure to burn this moment in his memory, the image of you spread under him for what was probably the last time.

He pulled your drawers down, revealing you completely to himself. You felt like you should cover yourself, not let a man that wasn't your husband see you like this, but this wasn't just another man, it was Arthur. Being like this with him felt natural.

He paved his way down your stomach with kisses, finally reaching your glistering cunt. The first touch of his tongue against your slit made you moan, and you instinctively reached out with your hand, waving your fingers into Arthur's hair. He kept going, lapping at you and pushing all the buttons he knew would have you coming apart in minutes. You threw your head back, moaning his name when you feel him push a finger in you, his tongue turning its attention to your clit. You could feel your release approaching when he added a second finger, picking up the pace. The movements of his fingers were deliberate, working in tandem with his tongue. You started to move your hips in time with his fingers, your body giving in to your carnal desires.

Your toes curled and your whole body shuddered as you came. Arthur kept going, heightening your pleasures until it all became too much and he retreated. The sight of his lips, wet with your juices, made a fire ignite in your belly once again. You pulled him down, crashing your lips against his, moaning at the taste of you.

He was grinding his hips against you, the bulge in his pants hard and heavy. You broke the kiss, reaching down with shaking hands towards his pants, popping the button open and taking out his cock. He moaned your name, closing his eyes as you wrapped your fingers around him. You ran your hand up and down, relishing in the sound of his debauched voice moaning your name. After a while, he took your hand away from his length and kissed over your knuckles. Letting it go, he pulled down his pants, the last article of clothing joining the others on the floor.

He sat in his naked glory between your legs. He was just as you remembered him; big, strong and muscular. The air around him was filled with virility. Your primal urges filled your mind as you wanted nothing but to be filled by him. He sensed your longing, seeing it in your eyes, and smiled.

His lips found yours once again, kissing you so much that you couldn't think about anothing but him. You felt the tip at him at your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your hands found his biceps, holding on to him as he pushed deeper, stretching you around his shaft. He stilled when he was all the way in, trying to compose himself. For a moment, all that could be heard where the sounds of your combined breaths, haggard in the quiet living room. The light from the fireplace illuminated your naked bodies.

Finally, he moved, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in. You clung to each other, your bodies molding into one. Your legs wrapped around his waist, letting him deeper into you as your hands clawed at his back, leaving red marks behind. The feeling of him inside you was intoxicating; he was made for you, hitting all the right spots, the sheer girth and length of him filling you perfectly. His lips were on your neck as he thrusted in and out of you, taking in your scent and the taste of your skin under his lips.

Arthur couldn't get enough of you; his eyes raked over every part of your body, taking it all in. You could feel his hands everywhere, holding on to your hips, massaging your sides, cupping your breasts. He wanted to feel every part of you. His touch was inebriating, heightening your pleasure to an unimaginable level.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, and so did Arthur. His movements became sloppier and out of rhythm, his desire for peak overwhelming.

He moaned your name, bringing your attention to him.

"I'm gonna cum," he said breathlessly, "where-"

You didn't let him finish, cutting in and saying, "Cum in me", not thinking about the repercussions of your words, your mind high on desire.

He dropped to his elbows, crashing his lips against yours as his movements became slower but rougher. You moved your hips meeting every one of his thrusts. The feeling of your tongue against his, your hands on his back and your warmness tightening against his shaft all became too much, and he came with a moan of your name, spilling his seed inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls drove you wild, and you came a moment later, your legs shaking.

The weight of Arthur over you felt like a warm blanket, keeping you safe and shielded from the world outside. You could feel his staggering breath on your neck as he tried to bring his breathing down. You held each other like that for a few minutes, not moving. Two sweaty bodies, entangled in each other.

At some point in the night, the two of you moved to the bedroom, soiling the bed that you and your husband shared with your combined moans and desires.

You spent the rest night in Arthur’s arms. He held you tight against him as he told you about his travels and the state of the gang. You told him about the ranch, and how fulfilled you felt by the work. Both of you tried to avoid the subject of marital status.

You fell asleep to the beat of Arthur’s heart, your head on his chest, his in your hair.

In the morning, the two of you had breakfast, and he stayed till the evening, helping you with some of the chores around the ranch, playing family that the two of you never had a chance to become.

You watched him drive away on his horse, following the speck of him with your eyes all the way over the plain till it completely disappeared. You stood by the entrance of your ranch for a few more minutes. Out in the distance the chickens chirped. You still had to milk the cows and go to the general store. Breathing out, you looked up into the sky before turning back towards your house and your life.

Few months later.

You stood at the top of a hill, overlooking your ranch with your husband next to you. Cold wind blew through your hair. Winter was coming. You had to start making preparation for the colder months; make sure the cattle were healthy, create a water plan, add feeders and forage among other things.

Another rush of cold air made you shiver and pull your shawl tightly over your shoulders. Your husband's hand found yours, interlocking your fingers and making you look at him. He smiled at you. his eyes full of love and excitement, before turning back towards the ranch. You held your gaze on him for a moment longer, studying his features, before too turning towards the pasture, one of your hands in his, the other on your growing belly.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x y/n #rdr2 headcanons #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan drabble #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfic

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

You Have to Let Go

For @whumptober2021′s Day One prompt, “You Have to Let Go” / Betrayal

CW: Forced vampirism, blood drinking, vampire whumpee, whumpee takes revenge, referenced drug addiction

1908, somewhere outside of New York City

“You can’t keep this up forever.” William, one of the oldest members of the pack at just over a century, lays on his back on a chaise, his head hanging off, looking upside-down at the newest vampire in the pack.

Blood does not pool in his head or redden his cheeks, although he’s been like that for an hour or more. He stays pale, his hair and skin and even his eyes all nearly the same shade. It gives him the appearance of a ghost, although he’s solid enough.

Cold, and solid.

More marble statue than man, now. And yet still more man than animal, though that depends a little on the viewer’s perspective.

“Watch, watch me try,” Tristan hisses back at him from where he sits, curled up in the corner of the room, arms around his bent legs. He stares at a mostly-healed scar on his left knee, from a time he tripped and fell in the dark of the basement downstairs. It’ll be there forever now, he’s told, a reminder for eternity of the wounds he wore when he died.

He pushes on it. There’s no pain.

Of course there isn’t. Pain is your body trying to warn you not to die, and he’s already dead. What is there to warn him of now? All the worst things have already happened.

There’s a soft cry from an adjacent room, woozy and almost sultry. An answering murmur in Malorie’s low voice. There’s a flirty laugh, and then the next sound is less cry than moan. He’d blush if he still could. Instead, he ignores the sound. Someone paying money for the oblivion the venom offers them, or paying in skin and blood.

Vampires aren’t picky, and blood renews much faster than coins, anyway.

“We gave you a gift. Wrapped it all up in a bow for you, didn’t we? ” William has an odd accent, like he’s a mix of Brit and something else that Tristan doesn’t recognize. There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that Tristan knows from his own childhood, the landowner’s children teasing him for his oddities and for the way they felt all the families working their land were more or less the same. Tris hadn’t been the favorite of the other farmers’ kids - there’d been whispers behind hands about all the bits of him that weren’t like other children - but they’d banded together against the landowner’s children still. He remembered with fuzzy affection the others picking up rocks more than once to throw in his defense.

There were still parts of home where there were rumors of changeling children, and his mother had angrily shouted down an accusation more than once, when he was young and caught lining up river rocks in perfect circles. But for all that there might be whispers from the old, the other village children had always stuck together when someone from outside came mocking.

He’d been so happy to get away from the town, going on the ship with his parents to America. Tears threaten at the memory of his mother holding him at the edge of the ship, the salt-spray in his face as they set off and away from home and toward what she promised would be a grand new one.

Her sister had gone ahead first, years before, and had written glowing letters about America as a land of chances that Ireland didn’t offer.

He wondered, bitterly, if his aunt had already been hooked on the venom by then. If she’d been writing those letters from vampire dens, with a pair of fangs buried in her other arm while she signed Your loving sister, Joanne.

Had she known she would try to sell him before she ever saw his face? Had she sold his parents’ lives, too, somehow?

He wishes, fierce and strong, that they had never left Ireland at all. That his mother had known not to trust Joanne as far as she could throw her. Too late, though. Too late.

Joanne the only one left standing, now. The rest of them are dead.

Even Tristan, who can be dead and still be separated from his parents by the gulf of their different kinds of death, who stares into damnation even if he were fully destroyed now. He remembers trying to confess his sins to a priest who chased him from the church with screams of demon, demon, begone. His soul has been handed over to evil, and all he’d ever done was try to be good.

Tristan wipes the pink tears from his cheeks before William can see them. “I, I, I didn’t want your, your gift.”

“Does that matter now?” William flips over onto his stomach and drops to the floor into a crouch, smiling. His fangs glimmer in the dimness, as the night stretches on and on towards dawn. Already the horizon is going lighter around the edges, a soft dove gray that will lead soon to pink and blue. Already, Tristan can feel an unnatural exhaustion weighing down his bones, the need to sleep while the sun is up.

“To, to me it does.” Tristan leans his head slowly against the wall, closing his eyes. The pulse of thirst is stronger than his heartbeat ever was.

“You’re not human any longer,” William says, and there’s a gentleness to his voice that Tristan is surprised by, turning to look at him. “You have to let go of all that. You’re not it any longer, and won’t be again. But isn’t this better?”

Tristan blinks once, twice. “No,” He whispers but fiercely. “I’ve, I’ve, been, um, I’ve been made a murderer, against my will. What of that is, is better?”

“All men kill, one way or another.” William shrugs, casual and unbothered. “We are only more honest about it and our reasons. But here, look, I’ve had one more thing done.”

He claps his hands. Tristan flinches at the sound, but the soft murmurings of the pack from other rooms goes silent. Then they drift into the parlor, one by one. Malorie is still wiping her latest partner’s blood from around the corners of her mouth, smiling.

There are seven in the pack, not counting Tristan himself. He tries not to count himself.

When he looks now he frowns, seeing only five. “William?”

“We’ve one more gift for you,” William says, and gestures to the open double-sized doorway.

Tristan stares as the last two members of the pack appear, with his aunt held between them, bound until she has to be dragged and cannot walk on her own.

Joanne’s eyes are wild, rimmed in bright white. She is gagged, cloth tied over her mouth until it bites viciously into the corners of her mouth. She sees him and begins to struggle anew, shouting as best she can. Nonsense sounds, muffled, pointless shouting.

He can’t tell if she is begging for her life or cursing him.

He wishes he could believe it’s the former.

“What, what, what what what is this?” His words are barely a whisper, as he unfolds himself, pushing up onto his feet. His gums begin to itch around where his fangs have grown, the venom ready.

“She’s behind in her payments again,” Alyssa says, laying her head on Joanne’s shoulder, her long brown hair falling half over her face. “In too deep. Chases the fang and doesn’t pay her rent, doesn’t pay us either.”

Tristan stands perfectly still, feeling nearly frozen. His aunt’s terror and panic are something he can smell, now, the sharp tang of adrenaline. It sours the blood, but there are vampires who prefer it that way. Who say the sour taste of pain and fear is a higher form of flavor.

William steps up to his side, running a hand down Tristan’s arm. He flinches away from the touch, but he knows better than to move away from the pack leader more than that. His chin tucks down in unconscious submission to William’s will. “You, you, you you you want me, to, to… kill her?”

“You miss your family,” William says, softly. “It ties you to your old life.” He smiles, something Tristan can see from the corner of his eyes, and leans his head slowly against Tristan’s, mingling white and red hair together. “She’s the reason they’re lost to you, right?”

“Yes,” He whispers in reply, turning slightly into the touch. William’s cool hands comes to cup his face, and he presses a soft kiss, light as air, against Tristan’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, finally presses their lips together.

It’s all sensation without temperature, and Tristan hums, opening his mouth for it, letting William take what he wants. His packleader’s tongue finds his fangs, presses against the venom glands just above and behind them.

A tingle of venom falls onto Tristan’s tongue.

William hums. “Good boy,” He whispers, making Tristan shudder, half-disgusted and half-grateful for the praise.

Joanne’s struggles kick up into a frenzy, but they do her no good. She’s bound so tightly that her wrists are rubbing raw to bleeding, and he can smell it. Saliva gathers in his mouth, his venom pulsing, sizzling on his tongue like a hot pepper eaten raw. He finds himself shaking, hands clinging now to William’s arms just to stay standing.

Joanne welcomed them when they got off the boat. But she’d snubbed Tristan’s father, had never liked him. She’d helped them find work, and all along she’d gone places at odd hours of the day and night.

All she’d said to him after his parents died and he moved in with her was that his mother was never meant to die. She’d been meant to be out of the apartment, but had decided not to go on the errand to the woman who took in piecework, and Joanne had told him, I didn’t know she’d be home, or I’d have changed the day, wouldn’t I?

Then she said he should stop mewling in his grief, and slapped him full in the face for it.

His lips pull back from his teeth, although he isn’t quite aware of it. Only of the taste of blood in the air on his tongue.

“Have your revenge,” William whispers, the devil tempting a boy who has never been a saint. Tristan wonders if his mother will hate him, in her eternal rest, that he isn’t strong enough to resist this chance.

He tips his head back and lets William mouth along the line of his neck.

“Let death come upon them, and let them go down alive into hell.” The verses come easily, without stammering. He was always better at reciting what he’d been taught to memorize, the words his mother read and reread to him, than at speaking for himself. “For there is wickedness in their dwellings, in, in the midst of them. But I have cried to God: and the Lord will save me.” His lips twist, and the tears burn so hot it feels like they are boiling over his eyes and down his cold skin. “But, but, but I cried, Aunt Jo, and-... and and and no one saved, um, saved me.”

He turns away from William and meets his aunt’s eyes.

She stares back at him, still struggling, still fighting. The blood from her torn-open arms runs down her hands behind her back, dripping to the floor. He can hear each droplet hit one by one. He can smell the fear in her, and he can smell what she’s spent her day doing. That she slept late, and ate at a place down the block from their tenement where the old woman sells sandwiches, the big blocks of meat carved to order.

He can smell that she never thought of him at all, as she prepared to come here, to the den, for venom she can pour into a cocktail. He can smell even the way she was surprised when they told her there would be no more credit for her, she must pay now or perish.

She can’t pay. There is nothing left. She’s long since spent every bit of scratch that she gained from the deaths of her sister and brother-by-marriage, the extra cash that came from selling her nephew into… this.

He’s been moving across the floor and barely noticed. He’s only a foot or so away from her now, and the smell of her sweat is as strong as her blood. His pack members can see the fight in him fading, he’s sure, because their eyes are overbright and glittering with excitement.

He holds her gaze.

It’s easier, since he died, to look people in the eyes. He’s not sure why.

“You,” He says, in a low voice that no longer trembles. “You made it so, so, so so I won’t ever be seeing them again. As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. If, if you had, if I had died with them, if I…”

His throat feels like it’s closing, his voice dries up.

“But, but, but, but you made me be damned,” Tristan manages, finally, his voice thready and barely-there. “Even if… even if I, if someone, if I am… I’ll still never, um, never see them again. We are, are, are, are both damned, now.”

William, just behind him, a cool presence the same temperature as the air around them, hums, interested. His hands rub up and down Tristan’s arms. “Will you kill her, Tristan? Have your vengeance? We’ll clean what’s left up for you.”

“No.”

Everyone inhales, although they don’t need to, in surprise.

Tristan stares one last time into his aunt’s frightened eyes. “I, I, I won’t, won’t kill her. But, um, but but but… but… I want… want you, your gift to be something else, William.”

“Name it, little brother.”

I’m not your brother.

He doesn’t bother with the protest. Not anymore.

“Turn her,” He says, softly. “And then, um, then then then wall her up in, in the cellar, and and and leave her, to, to starve.”

“A new vampire who doesn’t feed faces the true death anyway, in a month or two,” Malorie points out. When Joanne turns her head away, Malorie grabs her by the hair, forcing her to look back at Tristan with a cry of pain.

“I don’t care. I, I, I just want her to, um, to suffer.”

He walks away, moving around the little group, and out into the growing new light of the early dawn. His bones already feel weighed down by the promise of sunlight.

There is a workshop, a rickety wooden shed, in the yard. Tristan moves into it, closing the door to give himself a nearly-total darkness, and burrows down into the dirt, curling into a ball, closing his eyes. His hand grasps, instinctively, at a rosary he can no longer wear. Finding nothing, he finally goes still.

He hears one long wailing scream from his aunt from within the house, and then no more sound at all.

He wonders how long it will take her to have her first death.

He wonders how long it will take for her to feel her second death, the true death, as she is starved of the blood her body needs to fully become the monster she had Tristan himself made into.

His mother would care.

Tristan doesn’t.

He falls asleep as the sun comes up, at the same time his aunt’s body shuts down bit by bit. Her heartbeat is the last thing to still.

Tristan’s heart stopped beating nearly four years ago.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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chisheya · 4 years

Text

hanahaki disease [niragi x reader x chishiya] highschool au!

Summary: love is reckoned to make us powerful; not susceptible - as much as i tried to convince myself that. as much as i tried to stay strong; tough and heroic, enough to risk it all and let my emotions surge on the exterior. strong enough to be crushed yet again, to love and be loved again - knowing my fragility.

i’ve known the agony and lament sufficiently enough that it demolished my sanity, left my soul burning away, gradually fading into ashes and disappearing like dust under the moonlight’s breeze. and the funny unfunny part is - i wish i had told him, perhaps one day i will.

‘‘I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. My love bloomed like a flower in my chest.’‘

Tag list: (if you want to be tagged, let me know because the previous post got deleted for some weird reason lol)

Word count: 2.5k

The sun's soft twinkles crawl over house rooftops, and in an early hour, despite it, it still felt like a chilly morning. Early as it is, the neighborhood was caught up with parents rushing with their children, some going to work, some even rushing late. Thankfully, the riots of youngsters were vetoed by the sound of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse playing through my earphones. I was deliberately walking down the alley on my way to school, gripping the hem of my uniform and cursing to myself that this skirt was of no use to at least keep my legs warm.

The reckless gust reaching from my left side provoked me to jump out of my skin, revolting me from my daydream.

‘’God's sake-’’ I turn my head only to see Chishiya standing next to me, with a smirk on his lips. The sudden view of him caused me to blush, as my brain screamed oh-look-your-crush. Although you could rarely see this guy smiling and being friendly, his agenda was incompatible. Clever, crucial, and cunning as he is, he always had a special place in my heart. Why, you ask? I'd love to know that too... Maybe because he has been my friend since forever.

''You must be that cold, huh,'' Chishiya says sarcastically. ''Y-yeah.'' I murmur, ''anyway, again one of early practicals at the hospital today?'' ''Correct.''

''Yikes,'' I add, clicking my tongue, ''good luck.''

''Have you decided if you'll stay here in Tokyo?'' Chishiya pops a question, clearing his throat, as his face remains immersed on the boulevard in front of us. ''Huh, what do you mean?'' I add, looking up at him, wishing he'd look back at me. But he never does...

''For university.'' ''Oh, that,'' is all I say, before taking the next few seconds to think what to proceed with, ''yeah, Tokyo - I guess, still not sure yet.''

''It better be Tokyo or I'm disowning you.'' He says in a stern voice, delivering it with a smirk as he quickly runs his hand through my hair, resulting in becoming a mess.

''Hey!'' I chuckle, about to return the favor but he succeeded to grab my wrist and stop me just on time. Shucks.

Chishiya and I have been friends since childhood, as our dads have been friends since their early school days as well. He's in his third year in med school and I'm about to graduate in less than a month and enter university in few months. Not to mention, living close enough in the same neighborhood visiting Shuntaro's family every Sunday for dinner was a ritual that my dad, Aguni, and I couldn't stop doing. My mother has had enough of Tokyo so she decided to leave for England. Yeah, pretty simple...it has only been dad and me since. Not like I regret staying with dad, and if there was the father that would win The Dad of the Year award, it would be him. Playing cards meanwhile drinking wine was a post-dinner ritual for our dads, later through time, Chishiya joining them as well. In most cases, I'd end up just observing how they play and anticipating who's going to win. From Aguni being the best to, Shuntaro's dad, a few years later as Chishiya evolved enough his cunning games he beat them in it. He became a card game master, no jokes.

I didn't notice it has come for the time for us to go different paths, as my school was in the complete opposite direction.

''So,'' I murmur, stopping and turning to face him, ''I guess time to say goodbye.''

''Good luck, kid.'' He says, giving me a soft smile. Ah, if he only knew how something so insignificant and minor to him has such a consequence on my heart. But he never will though. As I know, what we are and what we are not.

I just smiled as I watch him turn his back on me and leave first. He always leaves first. I stayed few more seconds as his figure slowly fades of to distance I get ready to go my way.

⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟

After the last class, I choose to go to a nearby library to catch up on some assignments. The library is a soft of the enormous coffee shop yet one can stay all day and feel good even if one buys nothing at all. That's the discrepancy. It is a place of welcome for everyone rather than for "customers." This is not a money-nexus venue yet a love-nexus space, and that makes it a real treasure in this city.

I was relinquished and dazzled by the book in front of me, until the moment someone’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts.

''Since classes are over, want to grab lunch?'' I feel a hand placing softly on my left shoulder as a soft boyish voice peaks behind me.

''Niragi,'' my lips stretch in a smile as I embrace my best friend in a hug, ''of course, you mind if Chishiya tags along as well?''

''Oh,'' he mouths, providing it with a vague look, as I feel him stiffen up a bit and breaking the hug before proceeding, ''Chishiya..too?''

''Yeah!''

''Sure,'' he says, providing it with a soft smile, ''definitely..''

''Great, I'll let him know then.''

⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟

Niragi and I walked after school side by side, on the way to Shibuya where we agreed to meet up with Chishiya. As we have arrived early, we stand by a big poster advertisement. I gently lean my back onto it, facing the industrious avenues of Shibuya wandering with people. Niragi, leaning as well, right next to me.

''So, have you decided? Is it going to be Tokyo or London?''

''Hm,'' I murmur as his question breaks me out of my trance, ''regarding studies?'' He nods.

''Honestly, not sure,'' I hesitate, before proceeding, ''but I'd love to stay in Tokyo.'' This was not a lie, but London on the other hand, was just an excuse in case my health gets worse. An agreement was made with my dad that it'd be best to stay there with my mom and focus on getting better.

''Tokyo.'' I sigh, still caught up thinking what if I have to end up having to go back to London. What do I do then? And more importantly, what do I tell them? The minor, simple thought of lying to the people I deeply care about stings.

''And you?''

''Tokyo,'' he says softly while looking down, smiling - as the thought if he had something that binds him to dwell in this city, ''I already got accepted in for game engineering.''

I knock him softly on top of his head, standing on my tippy toes. Though he was portrayed as the delicate and sweet guy he is, he was taller than both Chishiya and me.

''Ouch,'' he exclaims as his hand rests on top of his head, my action catching him off guard, ''why did you do that?''

''Why haven't you told me, little idiot?''

''I planned to,'' he giggles, a wide smile as I've never seen scattering across his delicate features, ''I was waiting for you to confirm you got in your desired major as well.''

Yeah, I have, Niragi. It's just that I might not even be able to go because of my health. The phrases, the verdict, that I desired I could have mouthed out. But I couldn't, not now. Not when we're about part ways, and the way I want to remember these recollections is by them as their happy-selves, us cycling through alleys of Tokyo, eating noodles in the park during chilly nights, by city lights as the background noise of crickets was vetoed by our laughter. The recollections, moments I'll protect in my psyche permanently.

I just remained silent, looking at my friend as he was smiling and looking off to distance till he started waving to someone. I shift my gaze only to see Chishiya's figure approaching us, hands in his pockets as usual.

''Hello there, peasants.'' Chishiya teases, as he finally approaches us.

''Excuse me, lord Shuntaro.'' Niragi scoffs at him, crossing his arms.

''So where will we head to?''

''Whoa, Morizono, not even embracing your friend in a warm hug and you're already talking about eating,'' Chishiya says falsifying pain in his voice, ''I'm hurt.''

''Chishiya,'' I let out, rolling my eyes at his statement, ''I know you don't do hugs.'' I proceed, nudging his forearm slightly, hoping that the warmth I felt growing in my cheeks wasn't showing.

''Fuunji or Ichiran Shibuya?'' Niragi says, clicking his tongue.

''Fuunji,'' I mutter, at the same time as Chishiya adds, ''Ichiran.'' Our eyes met instantly as we both realized our choices were different.

Do I have to mention that I'm probably already blushing? No, because heck - yes I am.

Oh boy, here we go. Let him have his way, Y/N.

As you always do.

''You know what, let's go to Ichiran,'' I exclaim, looking in between my best friends waiting for them to agree.

''Ichiran it is,'' Niragi exclaims.

A little while later, our food has finally arrived. The moment it lands on the table, Niragi digs at his sweet and sour soup and pulls out all the cubes of carrot. I don't say anything, I really couldn't care less about table manners and there's always something interesting going on in his head. Chishiya calm and collected as he is, starts eating at a slow pace. After swallowing his first bite, he breaks the silence, ''we must go somewhere to celebrate your birthday, Y/N.''

''I'm not sure-''

Niragi peeks up at me with sticky fingers in his mouth. Meanwhile, Chishiya adds, through the mouthful, that I could just about make out the name "Kyoto."

As my mouth was full of food as well, I just nod seriously.

"That's a great idea, Chishiya. I never thought of that." Niragi grins, still with the fingers in his mouth, then he scoops them up and lines them neatly next to his stocking.

Chishiya holds out a cup of soju, "for Y/N." Niragi's hand comes over and snatches it up, his grin as wide as his cheeks will stretch, and scatters back.

Chishiya and I just exchanged looks, laughing at his silliness.

We drank soju, we were already merry and full, we told the most terrible of jokes. That was us. Casual, informal, yet caring enough to make the time we spend together joyful.

⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟

After grabbing lunch with Chishiya and Niragi, I headed straight home. The thought of visiting Kyoto for my birthday with them was still bouncing on my mind. The thing is, how to bring it up to Aguni? Hm? As loving and fond as he is of both of them, the thought of sending his only daughter away with two boys on a trip probably sounded far away from a brilliant idea. Sigh, I guess it'll take a lot to convince him.

''Dad, I'm home!'' I exclaim, meanwhile closing the doors behind me and taking off my shoes in the hallway.

''Someone's back home early, huh?'' Aguni says chuckling, as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead.

''Yup, something smells delightful,'' I say, meanwhile slapping my hands in excitement and taking my seat.

''Ah, you sneaky,'' He adds, taking the seat as well across me, ''it's your favorite - pad thai chicken wok.''

''So,'' I began, meanwhile randomly picking food with chopsticks in my plate, ''I have a question.''

''Yes?'' Aguni murmurs, mouthful, gazing up at me. ''So you know that my birthday is next week...'' I say awkwardly, placing my chopsticks gently on the table.

''Of course, how would I forget my daughter's birthday?'' He scoffs, butthurt that his daughter thinks he's that forgetful.

''No, of course not.'' I chuckle, ''but I did want to ask you something, uh...''

''Go ahead, silly.''

Just say it. Now or never. And I do - ''I've been thinking of visiting Kyoto with Chishiya and Niragi-''

''Not happening.''

''But-''

''You? On a trip? With two boys?'' his voice stern as he glares up at me, causing me to swallow, ''you must be out of your mind to think I'll let you, Y/N. Boys your age are wild.''

''No, there's going to be more of other friends...too, from school.'' I start, slightly panicking as I was also trying to think of the ways to get him to approve, ''not just Chishiya and Niragi, although you know they're my closest friends.'' I proceed further, looking around the food on the table, as I noticed he has almost cleared out his plate, and yet there was still chicken left in mine. Splendid, a perfect way to bribe him now.

''Plus,'' I mutter, as I start taking out the chicken from my plate, putting on his, his eyes now fully focused on that chicken, ''I know you trust them enough to protect me if anything happens, right?'' I grin, awkwardly.

''Only because they are aware who's your father and someone not to mess with.'' He adds, still not convinced enough, but still taking the small pieces of chicken with his chopsticks.

''Uh, yeah,'' I murmur, as I watch him, eating up those last few pieces of chicken as if they are his last, ''beside your protectiveness, what do you think?''

''Y/N, you've forgot one thing.'' Aguni says with a serious tone, placing down his chopsticks.

''What?'' I question, acting dumb. Expecting him to answer, he just remains silent and gives me an even worse glare now, ''doctor's appointment,'' I add, ''come on, it doesn't have to be next week as well. Just check with them if they can postpone it.''

He preserves silent, still staring up at me with a serious look on his face. Sigh.

''A trip with my friends is more important. Not to mention, it's our last as we're all parting ways soon because of university.''

''To you. But to me, your health is more important Y/N.''

''I...understand, dad,'' I sigh, looking up at him, falsifying a smile, ''but look at me, I'm feeling fine. I've never been better.''

''Same as you claimed in the past, until it happened again and I was close to losing you forever.'' He asserts, this time his voice louder than before.

''Dad...cheer up,'' I exclaim, as I reach out my hand, placing it on top of his, ''it's...just because it happened then, doesn't mean it will happen again.''

''You don't know that. Your condition is serious-''

''I'll take care of myself. Alright?'' I murmur, squeezing his hand, ''please, can I go?''

''Alright, alright. Under one condition, take care of yourself and as soon as you get back we're going to the doctors. Promise?''

''I promise.'' I holler, lunging from my seat to hug him before storming off to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I lean my back on it.

There was an eerie sentiment I felt within, a good sort though - just not sure for what exact reason yet. It felt like it was the calling card of an adventure, paths awaiting, what will transpire. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was an exploration to take and so I smiled. The inklings would come, perhaps when I’d least expected it, so I’m ready to take this leap of faith.

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tetcho-apologist · 3 years

Text

The blessing

Just finished code geass, I’m destroyed Fyodor x reader as an apology for the short post Backstory Au since there is no information about it. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The slums of St. Petersburg were the closest thing to hell on earth. Instead of being woken up to the songs of birds, the people were woken up by cries of suffering. The streets and people were filthy. In some alleyways, people would beat each other for money. On others, starving children would huddle together to keep warm. It was an ugly place full of despair, with just one look any observer would know these people were willing to do anything to get out of this hell. They wanted salvation. You pitied their souls, however, you weren’t a god. Only a supreme being could save them and cleanse their sins. Only he could bear the burden of becoming a god. You had to find him. His desire to save sinners was even stronger than yours. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your ability allowed you to feel people’s desires, if their desire was stronger than your own a blessing was granted to them. Most people in poverty and despair had great desires. Even so, they couldn't compare to yours. You had almost given up on the place. One morning while buying some supplies, a frail-looking boy no older than thirteen bumped into you. He had long hair and heavy eye bags, not unusual for someone who lived in such a place. His desire immediately overwhelmed you. How could someone possess a desire that strong? He apologized and quickly ran away. You searched for him, but he had completely vanished. You wouldn’t give up that easily. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Taverns were the best place to gather intel, drunkards would usually tell you everything they knew after offering them a bag full of coins. The place you were visiting was near the market, since you assumed the boy lived nearby and people in the area would know him. The best people to ask were ones who were a bit tipsy, but not to the point of muttering nonsense. A man sitting in a corner caught your eye. “That boy? You wouldn’t want to get close to him. Everyone who involves themselves with him ends up dying.” “He has a curse, apparently killed his family with it.” People in this place referred to abilities as curses, since a lot of them had ended up in their current situation because of them. Accidentally killing someone with their ability and having to run away, or being replaced by someone with an ability who could do their job better. “Do you know where he lives?” He put his beer glass down and gave you a suspicious and concerned glance. However, after taking a look at the money bag, he began talking again. ” In an abandoned warehouse, it’s two blocks away from here.” You had gotten all the information you needed. The tavern was starting to get full and the smell of alcohol became stronger, you began packing your things. “I heard he can kill people by touching them” he whispered to you before leaving the place —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You had been observing Fyodor for some days, to see if he had a particular routine. Usually, he would wake up early and go out to wander around. He was an unusual kid, muttering to himself and walking around without a reason. Sometimes he would return with some bread or fruit. When he bumped into you, it wasn’t because of fate or some silly force, he had stolen some fruit from you after you had fallen and were distracted. In the slums, if you wanted to survive, stealing was necessary. After returning to the warehouse, he would climb up and stand on the roof for a while. You were waiting for him. The sound of footsteps disturbed your thoughts. You faced him. His eyes went wide, and his face became pale, he probably thought you had come for revenge. You expected him to run, but to your surprise, he stayed. He stood straight as if awaiting his punishment. “I know you stole from me, but the reason I’m here is not because of that.” A puzzled expression stared at you, waiting for you to explain yourself. “My ability allows me to feel the desires of others. Most of the time they’re weak compared to mine, but you have a desire stronger than mine. Tell me, what is it?” “What will you do if tell you?” a cautious question “That depends on your answer.” He was quiet, deciding whether to tell you or not. “To save others” he finally replied The look in his eyes was identical to your own, being aware of the price saving others had. You knew how his ability worked, yet you extended your hand towards him. “Take my hand and I will give you power that will allow you to save others and clean them from their sins.” All the previous hesitation he had left him. He took your hand. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was somewhat of a lie, your ability. It didn’t give people power, it gave them confidence in themselves, allowing them to reach their true potential. He had figured it out by now. You had made a promise, you would do everything you could to help him achieve his dream. His plan was finally going to start. The decay of angels would start their operation and Fyodor would pursue his goal. You could see Yokohama from the ship, the infamous port mafia buildings, and the Ferris wheel stood out the most. A tall slender figure stood at the deck of the ship staring at the horizon, you walked up to him and carefully placed his cloak over his body. He smiled at you slightly, a rare gesture. The world would be saved.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#fyodor x you #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #bungou stray dogs #bsd x you

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

Text

Ashens (Part 19)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3,000

Chapter Warning: Smut.

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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You were woken up to the violent sound of vomiting.

Opening your eyes, you noticed the bedroom was still pitch black, so it must’ve been very late. Drowsily, you sat halfway up and looked over to see that Bucky wasn’t next to you.

You cringed as the soft glow from the A.I hit your irises.

The vomiting started again, followed by retching. Always being an emetophobic, you tried to ignore it, swallowing down thickly. You didn’t want it to affect you.

You stayed that way, sitting up and waiting for him to come back inside so you could ask him if he was okay.

After some time, You laid back down, and stared up at the ceiling. You grew concerned as long seconds turned to minutes.

He was taking too long for your liking.

Having made up your mind, you tossed the comforter aside and made your way to the end of the bed.

You hesitated for a moment before standing up. Your eyes quickly darted over to a pillow that was in the foyer, wondering how the hell it got there. Quietly, you made your way down the hallway until you saw the bathroom door ajar. The lights were on.

You stopped next to it before looking inside.

“Bucky?” You called out. Your voice was timid and soft.

No answer.

You began to hear crying.

Your heart tore in half at the sound. It was loud, but it was heavy. You could tell that he was trying to contain it as much as he could.

You grew even more concern, this time knocking softly on the door before pushing it open.

There he was, half hunched over the toilet, his other half falling towards the floor turned away from you. His metal hand gripped the side of the toilet while his right hand pulled at his hair.

You watched as he shook, sobs racking his body.

You didn’t want to seem annoying but you found yourself feeling scared.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything.

Blindly, he reached for the lid and closed the toilet. Then he crawled over to the wall directly in front of him, right next to the shower, and fell up against it.

He grabbed at his hair with both hands. You watched as his knuckles turned white.

He let out a groan as he started to shaking his head back and forth, sniffing hard. He ran his hands down his face before letting them fall at his sides.

The look on his face was heartbreaking.

He looked like he was suffering some kind of pain that you couldn’t physically see. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the ceiling.

You know that it wasn’t something he ate. That’s not why he was sick. He was going through something emotionally. This was mental turmoil.

You didn’t realize how true your words rang about him needing to get help until now.

“Nightmare,” he says so quietly and out of breath that you wouldn’t have caught them if you weren’t staring at his lips, “nightmare.” He repeats again, almost defeated.

He looked disappointed in himself.

Bucky isn’t sure if he dozed off but when he opens his eyes again, you’re knelt down in front of him with a glass of water.

He looks at the glass and back up at you. You looks so scared.

He takes the glass and downs it in a few seconds, scorched.

He hands you back the glass.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse.

You put the glass on the floor and he watches your movements, still in a heavy daze.

When his eyes meet yours again he can see the worry in your eyes.

“You’re sweating so much.” You grab a towel from one of the cabinets and hand it to him. He takes it from you but just holds onto it, letting his eyes close again, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but I’m glad you’re awake. You’re here now.” You say.

He physically cringes at the end of your sentence and you notice.

You take the towel from him, seeing he wasn’t even using it, and your roll it up. You bring it gently to his forehead to wipe away his perspiration. He shivers at your touch. He watches you intently. You look so innocent and sweet on your knees like that, and the memory of how he’s treated you in bed eats away at him. Not only was it a distraction, but you weren’t a piece of meat. He doesn’t understand how you still care after all he’s done to you.

You continue to wipe down the sides of his face, and eventually, underneath his eyes where the tears have now dried.

You were beautiful.

“It was a memory.” He says as you finally pull away from him.

You do a double take. You didn’t expect him to tell you this.

“I was,” he looks away from you, “it was nineteen fourth five. I was in Germany.”

He looks at you hesitantly and you give him a short nod, raising the towel back to his forehead. “Hydra—Hydra had me go to a base, just outside of Buchenwald. эти проклятые ублюдки.” He mumbles is disgust, sniffing, “There was a concentration camp nearby,” you watched as his flesh hand shook violently at his side, “It wasn’t instructed for me to be there. But we took the drive by, and I —“ his voice broke and he closed his eyes again, “I remember the smell, the smell of death, and I remember the bodies. I

remember children watching, this one young boy, and I did nothing.”

He was surprised when you took his metal hand in his.

“Bucky…”

“I don’t understand how I couldn’t control myself, my body, how I could let it happen, how I couldn’t save him. It was like deep down somewhere I knew it was wrong what I saw but I couldn’t —”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for something that is not your fault.”

“I was a Nazi.” He spats like the words are venom.

“You were not a Nazi. They took advantage of you and you know that. Even if you did what you did, you weren’t aware of it. Those monsters did that. Not you.” Your grip on his hand was tight and he could feel it, “you were a young boy that they —“”

“I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought against them harder.”

“It was against your control.” He’s stunned at your conviction and he watches you curiously. You tilt your head at him, “But look at you now. Look where we are. You’re here to save the world. Everyone outside of The Capitol is counting on you, wether they know it or not. And that is something that it is you that is doing. This is who you are.”

Bucky closes his eyes together and another grimace fills his features. You feared he would start crying again.

“Have you—have you ever spoken to someone before?” You ask gently, “Bucky?” You repeat when he doesn’t answer.

“I did. I had a therapist, but it didn’t go well. I eventually just started to going to Sam,” you nod. You feel him grab your flesh hand, and he runs his thumb over the top of it. The act startles you, “but you don’t understand. I’m not just a veteran with PTSD. I’m different.”

His touch was hot against you.

“And I get that,” your voice shook slightly, “but you can’t stop trying.”

He tilts your head at you this time.

“Trying for what? I’ve tried what I can and I still feel empty. It’s not that I’m unhappy, I’m just, I don’t know.”

“You have suicidal thoughts.”

The silence that follows your comment is palpable.

“My time has come and gone,” his voice is filled with emotion and you feel your own eyes fill with tears, “I am glad I am doing this. I’m glad I’m here on this mission. But after this?” His eyes are filled with tears and you can tell he’s clawing at anything at this point, “give me something to live for.”

You slowly let go of his hand to wipe under your own eye. His words hurt you deeply. He was in so much pain you could feel it yourself.

Maybe you were an empath or maybe it just hit too close to home for you.

“I was bullied my entire life,” you started slowly, watching as his eyebrows came together, listening intently to you, “People made fun of me because I was always different. I didn’t hang with the cool crowd or the regular crowd. People always assumed things about me because of my parents. They always thought that just because mom and dad thought a certain way or had money, that I was taking advantage of them or I also thought like them. Nobody in my life ever took the time to get to know me just for me, and I was a girl that always cared about everyone, regardless of that.” His hand tightened around yours, “It didn’t matter when they dropped Mac and cheese down the front of my favorite sweater or when they would make me drop my books in the hallway and then laugh, because I knew they would grow up one day, and I knew the things that thought about me wasn’t true anyway,” Bucky’s heart began to fall as tears filled your eyes and your voice began to waver, “but I was still human.” Your voice broke. You cry quietly. You run the back of your hand under your nose, looking away from him, “so of course I still got sad. I got depressed. I used to eat lunch by myself in a dark classroom everyday. How could something like that not affect a person? At one point I also thought to myself, is this how I’ll be forever? Alone? Hated for no reason? Will no one care? Why am I here?”

The amount of guilt that consumed Bucky was intense.

A month ago he had selfishly vowed to not get to know you because he was afraid of getting too attached to his mission partner. Now he’s cursing himself for unbeknownst doing something that was your ultimate weakness and your greatest pain. Because of it, he had underestimated everything about you. You were already beautiful to him, but knowing your heart was just as pretty made him feel other things for you. Things he hadn’t felt in close to a century. It terrifies him.

The last time he felt this way about another woman, because of him, she was killed. He couldn’t handle that again, the risk or the pain.

“I’m sorry .”

“But I still stayed strong, because someone did end up giving me a chance.” His eyes meets yours, “Will.” You breathe his name, “And he got taken from me. You know what that taught me? That it might seem bad right now and like the future is impossible, but life is full of great surprises, too.”

Bucky watches as you grab the cup, getting off the floor. His heart is still swelling.

“About what I said yesterday,” you stop at the sound of his voice, “I was out of line to blame you for what happened between us. It was my idea, and I took it out on you because I was scared we ruined the mission. I wasn’t in the best mood. I take blame.”

You look down at the floor, somehow still feeling hollow inside.

“Thank you.”

“I—” he cuts himself short and clears his throat. You turn around to look at him. He wasn’t on the floor anymore. He was standing and he looked a bit shy, “Look, what I said before about us not doing anything ever again…” his voice runs off as he swallows down and looks down shamefully at your feet.

He felt disgusting. He felt insanely attracted to you and you didn’t even know it. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep using you, he wished he could give a part of his heart to you and if this was a different life, maybe you two could work out.

He feels disgusted with himself. You deserved so much better than him.

“You know what, it’s okay. Forget I was going to say anything.” He whispers, clearing his throat after. You watched as he walked over to the cabinet to grab a larger towel.

You don’t how what it was. Maybe you’re growing up. Maybe you’re changing, but you walk over to him and grab his arm.

He looks over at you surprised.

“It’d be different this time.” You say, eyes darting over his nose, lips, and neck, “before there was hostility and pent up energy. We’re friends now, right?” You searched his eyes.

He squints at you.

“I guess we are.”

You nod.

“Friends with benefits?”

“Friends who occasionally just have sex?” He asks.

“We’ll make rules. No physical gestures that can have a double meaning, no intense eye contact, just something to get our edge off.”

“No kissing, anywhere.” He says, “And only at night. During the day, we act like it doesn’t even happen. We can’t allow distractions.” “And when the mission is over—”

“We go our separate ways.” He finishes.

You continue to stare at each other for a few more seconds before you give him a nod. He watches you as you walk away.

He’d always watch you as you walked away.

+ + +

“This show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. You like this?” Bucky asked with a mouth half full of sushi, pointing his chopsticks at the screen, comically.

You smirked as you took a sip of your water.

“This show is a classic. You just don’t get it because you’re old.”

“I’m not that old.”

You snickered.

“You old old man.”

“Shut up.” He says, “it’s not even from this century, right? What year did you say this came out?”

“Nineteen ninety four.” You grumbled, looking for another California roll in your plastic tray, “It the epitome of nineties and early two thousands era. It takes everyone back to a good time, before everyone used to just text each other.” You shrug, “it makes me happy.” You look over at him to see his eyes glued to the screen and a smile playing on his lips despite his verbal hate towards the show, “you don’t even have one character you like?”

He shrugs.

“Chandelier is funny.”

“Chandelier?” You laugh out loud, placing your tray on the coffee table as you do so. Bucky watches you, captivated by your laughter, “you mean Chandler?”

“Sure.”

You continue to glare at him, giving him a small smirk.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I won’t tell you.” He says shoving another sushi in his mouth.

You continued to stare at him, intrigued. Was this the real Bucky Barnes finally showing his true colors?

Ever since your talk in the bathroom last week, things between the both of you got better. Despite the blow out fight you had in the kitchen the other day, you really were friends. Friends in the most messed up sense of the word.

After your talk, you both had agreed to becoming friends with benefits, but you had yet to consummate the agreement.

The mission had kept you both very busy, between you trying to avoid Silas at work and keeping your eyes for any other possible intel, to Bucky staking out his nights at the tower trying to find new information on Ashen, including where he lived.

Tonight was the first real night where you both felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. Maybe too relaxed.

You heard Bucky snicker as a scene unfolded on TV -and you tried to contain your smile.

He liked it. Bucky liked Friends.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he leaned forward and put his own tray on the table.

“Does this remind you of your childhood?” He asks you.

“Kind of. I was very little when it ended but I remember that time period, yes. The world was different.”

“Tell me about it?” He asks you.

You perk a brow at him.

“Sure, but only after Ross accidentally says Rachel at the alter.”

“What?”

+ + +

“Could you stay on your side and with your fair share? You keep hogging up the blankets and the bed, Y/N.”

“I’m trying to make a cocoon because last time you snatched all the blankets in the middle of the night while I was asleep and I had to sleep shivering in fetal position.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Not.”

You both calmed down until you started moving your legs around, trying to find a comfortable position.

You stopped, and then started again, tossing and turning.

“Oh my god, if you don’t stop I’ll cut off your legs.”

“Do it I dare you.”

“God.”

“It’s not my fault it’s somehow freezing and super hot at the same time.”

Thankful, he thought you had finally found a comfortable spot because you stopped. He was wrong because you started moving.

Fed up with you, he quickly turned around and grabbed your leg.

“Stop.” You stretched down to push his hand off of you when he grabbed your hand and quickly held it up against the pillow next to your head. He did the same with your other and caged you under him with his legs.

You were breathless as you stared up at him. Finding the proximity intoxicating.

He was panting against you as he stared down at your face.

He watched enthralled as you whispered the undeniable words:

“Fuck me.”

+ + +

His boxers had been flung somewhere across the room and he had your legs right around his waist.

He followed your rules. No excessive gestures and no eye contact.

He hated it. He absolutely hated not being able to cup your face as he stared down at your nose, his cock thrusting into your at a languid pace. Slow and torturous.

Instead, his hand grabbed at the pillow beneath your head.

Bucky moaned as he felt you squeeze around him.

“God, you know just how to do it to me.” He mumbles, licking his lips.

“Faster.” You whine, tightening your legs around him.

His thrusts pick up speed as he continues to fuck you for several minutes. Eventually he switches to hold onto the head board.

His right hand leaves it to hold onto your waist and his eyes goes to where his dick is fucking you.

You were so perfect for him. If this were another lifetime, he knows he could be good for you. He knows this could’ve have had a different ending. You were so good.

When his orgasm hits him, he flicks your clit with his thumb and he unravels with you. You both cum together.

When he goes to bed later than night after slipping out of you and throwing away the condom, you don’t feel used like you used to. At least you don’t think you do.

But you still wished you didn’t love him anymore. You wished he felt the same, and you wished you had the strength to stop torturing yourself.

As you looked out into the city with your bare back facing his front, you reminded yourself that Bucky Barnes would never love you.

This would always be just sex. And when it came to your friendship, it had no future. You were to both go separate ways at the end of this mission.

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