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thisisarcanereverie · 11 months ago

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Cutting Ties (DARK! Moon Knight x Reader) Part 3

A/N: I know, I'm back from the dead (shocker) I'm so sorry about the lengthy delay but here it is! This is Part 3 of a 3 Part fic. (Here is Part 2!) This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others.

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, slight suggestive content, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, I am also not responsible for your content consumption please be advised that this is a dark story with triggering elements, viewer discretion advised. English is my first language I just suck at it. No beta, we die like men! I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

Weeks passed.

You had begun to notice a pattern, similar to the one they had before, one day it would be Marc who woke you up with turkey bacon and eggs and slept by you with your hands in his hair and then Steven would take his place the next day with oatmeal with fruit in it in the morning and smothering you at night. The only difference was that Jake had yet to show himself since the night he brought you here.

A small part of you was grateful for that but the larger (angrier) part of you wanted to see him again, if only to scream at him. However, you had to play this right, you had been working on both Marc and Steven on going to the doctor. You were careful, you knew if they said the wrong thing they wouldn’t go, so you played the part of loyal and dutiful girlfriend each day with a smile on your face and a calm, nurturing voice. Even your words were carefully thought out and rehearsed in advance, every time you mentioned the doctor you didn’t use isolating words like “you” and “me” or “I” instead using words that resembled unity and empathy (something they both had lacked in their childhood) such as “we” and “us”. With every sugared word you swallowed bile and chewed every insult into the insides of your cheeks. The Red Room was a vile place and you resent it with all that you are, but as you find yourself in this situation you couldn’t help but be thankful for their lessons in mental and emotional manipulation. Without them you don’t know what you would’ve done.

However, as you lay there with Steven’s arm around your abdomen and your gaze fixed on the calendar that hung on the wall in front of you, you hope you can hang on another forty-eight hours, the day of the appointment. You purposely made it for a day. It would be Steven in charge of the body. He was easier swayed and manipulated than Marc. He would let you go with him to the appointment, he needs you at the appointment. You’re his angel, his love, you would hold his hand as he tells the doctor how badly he sleeps and as the doctor writes the prescription you’ll excuse yourself. It can’t be before the doctor writes the prescription, Steven will get nervous and start looking for you sooner rather than later, as the doctor writes the prescription however the appointment will essentially be over but not quite. He will have to sit there and get the prescription and go to check out where they will have him make another appointment for a check in with the doctor before finally having time to look for you in the stalls. It gives you thirty minutes give or take to escape the building without being detected and stealing a car to get to the next town over where you’ll call your ID guy. If the ID guy proves to be a bust you know Yelena was always on the lookout for ex-black widows and she might help you like Natasha did the last time you needed to disappear. The plan was complicated, sure, it required perfect timing and a shit ton of hope and luck, but it was all you had. You were no stranger to seducing, manipulating, and betraying. They were second nature to you, like a coat you’ve left in your closet for so long but it still fits like you've never abandoned it at all. Still though, you’ve never betrayed someone you had loved before, and the guilt at the thought of Steven’s confused and distraught face like the one he had at the apartment was almost enough to kill you. Steven was relatively innocent in all of this, this wasn’t his plan it was Jake’s. It wasn’t his fault that they shared a body. Still, freedom comes at a price and Steven, Marc, and Jake would never allow such a luxury.

You find yourself slipping sometimes, finding yourself thinking it wouldn’t be so bad. That this life is exactly what you wanted to begin with, having your cake and eating it too. But you reminded yourself that this life was given to you without choice. That these men might love you in their own way, but all they want in the end is to possess you, to keep you whether it would be willingly or not, with chains or with vows.

It was later than usual, you knew you needed to sleep. You need all the energy you can get, after escaping in a few days you will probably miss the bed seeing as you don’t know where you’ll be but in either case you doubt you’ll be sleeping with a quilt or a fluffy pillow for a while. You try to sleep, counting sheep proved fruitless and the warmth of Steven’s chest on your back caused your body temp to rise to an uncomfortable degree. But you tried to remain still, you’ve been under worse torture than restlessness and uncomfortable heat, you should be fine.

…

You were wrong.

Gently you tried to scoot away from him, hoping to catch some sort of reprieve to no avail. Tried extending your limbs to the cooler parts of your shared blanket in order to cool at least some part of you down but that only helped little, only one foot managed to break free from the too warm confines and that helped significantly but sleeping like that felt too weird (too many horror movies with Jake). You let out a little frustrated huff, your attempts to cool off were met with failure. You were so caught up in trying to cool off you failed to notice the slight stir in the man beside you until you felt his breath next to your ear.

“Trying to escape again mi carissima?”

Suddenly, you no longer felt the need to cool off. Instead chills ran down your spine as the urge to hurl crawled its way to your throat. Your body went stiff as you felt him move from your side to leave the bed. You avoided looking at him, the all too familiar feeling of fear and rage made you hesitant to gaze in his direction. You contemplated reaching towards the nearest object and throwing it in his direction. But you looked at the calendar instead, freedom was two days away, you can’t ruin it now by revealing your true feelings. So with a deep, shaking breath in you sat and mustered up all the love and tenderness you could as you gazed at him.

“I haven’t seen you in a while lover,” you said affectionately as you imagined all sorts of violent, Taylor Swift worthy, things you would rather say to him, “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” you see him looking at you with apprehension, and what you could almost mistake for guilt.

“I was giving you space,” he said as he changed out of his sweaty night shirt for a fresh one, your eyes lingered where his sleep pants hung on his hips. Damn, you had forgotten that while the man in front of you was certifiable, he was also hot as fuck, and that if he turned around you knew your eyes would follow south. You couldn’t help it, with hips and an ass like that how could you not look at it and go a little feral.

“Well,” you cleared your throat a little, forcing your eyes to remain firmly on his face despite the almost magnetic force trying to pull your gaze downwards, “that was probably a wise idea.”

“I thought I had to do this,” he says, Jake was never one to halfheartedly apologize when he doesn’t believe he should “for us.”

“Still,” you said, hugging your knees to your chest, “don’t you think you should’ve brought it up with me? To give me a choice?”

“I’m giving you one now,” he said, eyes turning to you for the first time in weeks, “I wasn’t acting right before. I was angry and scared, you were going to abandon us like we didn’t matter. You weren’t even going to tell me the truth, you were going to leave that very night. I became rash, and crazy, and…” his eyes cast down towards the bunched up shirt in his hand, “I hurt you.” He tossed the soiled shirt into the laundry basket before turning his gaze back to you, “So I’ve been staying away, remaining a fly on the wall as I watched you with Steven and Marc. Punishing myself by seeing you but never touching you.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” you said with anger rumbling in your chest, “I would almost call the tone in your voice remorse.”

“I apologize for hurting you,” he states moving to the side of the bed where he laid moments before, before sitting the mattress sinking with him slightly. ��I regret that deeply but I don’t apologize or regret bringing you here.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?”

“I am giving you a choice,” he said, eyes bearing into you, “now that you’ve lived here for a while, seen what our life can be like. Will you stay?”

What?

Your eyes dart between his as your mind struggles to come up with any alternative motives he has behind this. He could be luring you into a false security, be sadistically playing with your feelings as a way to punish you further for trying to leave them behind.

“What would you do if I went?”

“I’d follow you,” he says with no hesitance, “I’d follow you anywhere mi carissima, from desert to tundra I’d follow you faithfully and without complaint.” his hands hesitantly grab yours, “I can handle myself, and so can Marc and surprisingly so can Steven. You don’t need to worry about us in a fight, but I will not force us to stay here. The choice is yours.”

There was a lot to think about, there were many contradictory feelings swirling inside of you. A mix of shock, anger, and the tiniest glimmer of hope were the most prominent. You see his eyes and know he’s being honest. He won't force you to remain in this house they’ve built just for you, but he won’t let you leave him. Though, looking back you guessed you never did want to leave them anyways. You were going to leave to protect them and now that you know they were more than capable of protecting themselves…you weren’t sure. You could always lie and manipulate them further, then leave like you had planned to do since you got here. But you could also stay…you don’t know.

“Do I have to decide now?”

“No,” he assured, “I won’t force you to,” he grabbed the spare pillow and throw blanket at the end of the bed, “I don't want you to get overheated again so I’ll sleep on the couch. So, don’t worry about making any decisions right now and try to get some rest…goodnight.” and with that he left. Leaving the door open behind him and leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. You knew eventually you would have to see him again, he was a part of them but you’d never imagine it would go like this. You kind of imagined he would have the same look in his eyes like he did when he stabbed a needle in your neck, to act insane and possessive and obsessive and hold you hostage with no choice in sight. Except he just gave you one, something to ponder the next two days about.

Dread fills you as the decision lies in front of you. Waiting for you to make a choice.

Needless to say, you didn’t get any sleep that night.

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The past two days passed in a blur before you were finally seated next to Steven as he answered the doctors medical questions regarding his overall health. Marc and Steven seemed to have calmed down slightly in terms of spending every minute with you and never letting you out of their sight. It was odd, and now you were conflicted. After Jake’s sudden (and brief) visit your mind had been running a million miles trying to figure out what angle he could be playing. Was this psychological warfare? Was he testing you?

You excused yourself to the bathroom as planned once the intake was over, mentally your mind began counting down from thirty minutes as you stepped into the bathroom. As expected there were no cameras here in the women’s restroom, which was to your benefit, along with a window. It was smaller than you had expected but it was large enough for you to crawl out of. You were quick to silently click the lock on the door leading to the bathroom before you went to one of the sinks to turn the faucet on. Opening the window and crawling through was bound to make some noise and the rushing water was going to mute some of the noise you would be making. As your hand reaches for the hot and cold knobs you pause. Time was ticking away by the second, every minute you stood there undecided was a minute you could’ve had to get away. Yet here you were. Were you actually considering staying with them?

It’s horrible, what a few acts of kindness can do. Giving you space, giving you a choice…and you’re a mess. Wasn’t that what you wanted to begin with? A choice? There are only two ways that this plays out, you know this. On one hand you go, you turn the knobs and you run, like you’ve always done, alone. There was no guarantee that Yelena would pick up, there was no guarantee that you wouldn’t be thrusted right back into the life of a mercenary, there was no guarantee that doing this would grant you the freedom you’ve fought so hard and yearned for so long for. Was it freedom if all you did was hide and run? What would happen if you stayed? Jake, Marc, and Steven were an unpredictable risk. Jake could be lying, you wouldn’t put it past any of them to lie and act in order to keep you, even Steven…on the other hand, maybe this was a pattern of yours. Maybe all you ever do in any situation is run, run away from every complex thought and feeling and you never turn back. Maybe the reason you never felt free was because you weren’t meant to be. You can’t recall the number of times you’ve spent countless night staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, with gut wrenching guilt as you replay all the terrible things you’ve done as a widow; the people you’ve killed, countries you’ve lead into war that orphaned children, secrets you’ve both hidden and exploited. There were nights you’ve asked for some sort of punishment that would ease the guilt that was slowly killing you. Maybe this was it, maybe this was the punishment.

Staying, knowing full well that this time there is no evil man behind you pulling your strings, that there was no one to blame but yourself for the outcome. Knowing that your last meaningful act of free will was to throw away the autonomy you had treasured as if it was something solid and tangible in exchange for a gilded cage with no means of escape and constantly wondering if you made the right choice.

And never knowing if you did.

Your shoulders slumped as the weight of it weighed heavily. What was it going to be?

Freedom in exchange for redemption, or redemption in exchange for your freedom.

You’re not as sly as you think you are–or–as you used to be. Jake had your plan figured out the moment you suggested Marc see the doctor for ‘sleeping medication’. He had to hand it to you, your manipulation tactics were impressive, the collective ‘we’ and ‘us’ and adoring looks and gentle touches were truly inspired.

You silly, silly little spider…did you really think anything that Jake had told you was true?

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Yes, he admits he may have fucked it up a little by going a little bat-shit crazy and sticking a needle into your pretty neck and forcing you into a home that wasn’t finished quite yet. But he made up for it, he let you get this far with your little trick. It was the least he could do, along with offering a fake choice. You weren’t even going to make it to the nearest payphone (which is surprisingly still functional given its obsolete status) before he dragged you back home kicking and screaming if that’s what it took.

Still, though, he doesn’t like you kicking but as for the screaming (well, given the right circumstances he loves to hear you scream, especially when it’s his name)

So instead of outwardly calling your little game out, he decides to play along, acting none the wiser and giving the biggest performance of his life.

He knows you like to think yourself a master manipulator, but the truth was that without the constant threat of death and Dreykov’s mind control, your manipulation skills have gotten rusty. A once sharp and carefully polished tool now dull and worse for wear. Against easily manipulated fools like Steven and (sometimes) Marc, it’s effective. But he was the only one who was truly your equal. Jake was the only one who truly understood you. Steven had false memories to comfort him and while Marc and Jake lived with the unhappy ones, and while he wasn’t perfect, at least their dad never forgot Marc’s birthday. Jake had no one, had nothing–not even his own body! Much like you did as a widow. You were the only person who could possibly understand him and by extension he was the only one to understand you.

There is a strange power in being understood, it’s terrifyingly intoxicating, especially to one who is never understood. Jake had never been particularly interested in salvation or redemption in general, but you became his religion, the altar where he worshiped and the light that baptized him. Worshiping you was as easy as breathing, like it was what he was made to do. So he listened devotedly to every syllable from your mouth and he made a list of all you said.

Jake had wanted to marry you before showing you the home he had built, (well him, Marc, and Steven), he had it all planned out, the only thing he didn’t plan for was that night. Suddenly his light was taken from him, his comfort, his home, his life was stripped away from him before he could utter a word.

That would drive any man insane.

He made a few questionable choices, sure, but he paid for them and now here was his reward. Driving back from the doctors with a prescription he doesn’t intend on picking up with you in the passenger seat. Willingly and holding his hand.

He smiles, ignoring the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and how your fingers tremble ever so slightly as he pulls your hand for a kiss. None of that matters, you’re with him now.

With no chance of escape.

Ever again.

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sweetiesshortstories · 1 year ago

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Imagine if the lights you saw dancing in the sky weren’t satellites, or a trick of reflections. What if those lights saw you watching in awe, and came back night after night just to see you? And if those lights that some called UFO’s, spaceships, alien visitors, did happen to hold beings, and one of those beings wanted to see you, would you want to see them back?

2600 word count

˜”°•.˜”°• If Stars Could Love •°”˜.•°”˜

I don’t know when they started, and I can’t recall when I first saw them. The lights in the sky. They started off far away over the mountains, and I would sit outside on the deck in the darkness just to watch. I didn’t want to record them, or upload them online, I didn’t want anyone to know; I wanted them to remain mine. A moment in the day that felt like peace. While my roommate slept, and while the world held no expectations for me, I could sit and watch a dance of stars.

I almost missed them after covering someone else’s shift. I was exhausted when I got home. My roommate and her boyfriend were kind enough to save me some of their dinner and after I ate, I fell asleep. Instantly.

When I awoke, I grabbed my phone and hissed a "shit". It was 2:37a. With sleep still in my eyes I fumbled from my bed, fighting with my blankets as they held on tightly. Once I pulled the sliding glass door open and stepped into the cold night, I saw the sky above the mountains, empty. My heart sank and it filled my stomach with pain. I turned to go back inside when over my shoulder a flicker caught my attention.

A singular light. Closer than I had ever seen. It glowed a faint pink, or purple. It swirled between hues and I was hypnotized.

My body felt electrified, my skin prickled, my heart fluttered, and I couldn’t catch my breath. My body was so warm despite the time of year and my lack of heavy clothing and shoes, the light filled me. The response from my body was foreign, and confusing. I should have been scared, that would’ve been normal.

But I was…enamored.

Full of excitement and want. Like an energy had invaded me and made a home deep inside to gain control. My body was humming with hunger, responding to touches I couldn't see the source of. My breasts felt heavier, my nipples ached, and I was painfully aware of the pulsing between my legs. The light grew brighter, and brighter, swallowing the world around me until it was only me lost in the brightness. The outline of the trees, the mountain line, the stars, all gone. The prickling on my skin had turned into a steady buzz emanating from my body, and my breathing quickened, my knees began to tremble until something inside of me erupted. A sound escaped my throat, and everything faded.

When I awoke, hours had passed. The sun was high in the sky and my roommate, Taylor was crouched over me with her forehead wrinkled in concern.

“What the hell happened? Are you ok?” She leaned back to give me room as I sat myself up, squinting my eyes against the morning light. Sweat peppered my forehead from the sun.

“I—I fell asleep after I ate, I guess.” I wiped my hand over my forehead and pushed my hair back before taking a deep breath and letting my shoulders fall.

I noticed her boyfriend on the deck, his brows also stitched in concern.

“Richard! What did you put in the spaghetti last night?” Taylor demanded as she stood and crossed her arms.

“Whoa!” He lifted his palms. “I put normal spaghetti shit in it. You think I’d try to poison us? Really?”

“Hey,” I pulled myself to my knees and gripped the wooden railing. “Guys I’m fine. Really! I fell asleep after working a double.”

“Did you remember to check her allergy list? We have to be careful when we share what we make with her.” Taylor pushed. Richie nodded and bent at the waist to help me stand. Taylor quickly rushed to my other side, and I couldn’t help but to laugh at them.

Once standing upright i flapped my hands at them.

“Seriously! I’m fine, dinner was so delicious it put me in a food coma. Work just…” I wrinkled my nose and walked inside the air conditioned home; Taylor and Richie followed, shutting the door behind them.

I made a fresh pot of coffee while we hung out in the kitchen and Taylor went over my allergies, in detail, again, to poor Richie.

He looked over at me as I pulled mugs from the cabinet, and I mouthed an apology. He smiled warmly and fixed his eyes, full of love and adoration, on Taylor. I filled our mugs.

My chest felt tight witnessing their love. As I poured coffee, my mind drifted off to my early morning and the angelic light.

Could it have been the same lights I had watched for weeks? Or was I just crazy? Losing my grip on reality. I glanced over at Taylor and Richie and observed how in sync they were with one another. A proposal would be coming soon. And while I was happy for them, I couldn’t help but to be sad for me.

How would I afford this place alone? Would I still see Taylor? Was I imagining an orgasmic extraterrestrial light because I masturbated too much, and my closest friend was happily monogamous? If I did imagine it, how did it feel so real?

Even standing in the kitchen clasping my hot mug of coffee, I could feel it. The heat and the electricity that had filled my essence. How could it be fake?

I didn't gain any clarity in the following days.

That night after I showered, I crawled under my thick comforter, promising myself I would dress and go outside. I wouldn't miss the lights, my lights. But at some point, I drifted off into a sleep and when I woke, I couldn't move.

I was stuck in a sleep paralysis, barely able to control my eyes. I tried to focus on the pictures on the walls, my dresser, but my lids were so heavy. In the corner I saw a shadow, a tall form, the darkness stretched to the ceiling. I wanted to panic. I felt it begin in my chest, but it faded almost immediately, and I felt the warm electricity from the night before.

The very same.

Even though it was only the second time I had felt it, it was already so familiar. My mind quieted and I immediately gave in. I was floating. I was alive. Every strand of hair on my head felt charged, I could feel touches swirling through the rivets of my fingerprints. I felt sensations on places I had never imagined. And just when I hit a stage of immense ecstasy, they were gone.

Night after night the shadow came to me, and I was unable to go to it.

Until I decided I had enough. I would catch this shadow. The shadow that came from the light.

I didn't know where to begin, but I did know how to be sneaky. That night, I stuffed clothes under my comforter and rearranged my pillows, then I hid myself in the closet. But...I woke up in my bed the next morning. I did it again, this time drinking coffee and energy drinks. Still, I ended up. In. My. Bed. I had about given up on catching the shadow, when another idea intruded into my mind. A dangerous idea. But I had to know for myself, this wasn't fake. That it was all real and I wasn't imagining a connection.

It was Friday and I had managed to get out of work on time, without being guilted into staying later. Taylor stayed at Richie's, and I had our quaint 2-bedroom home myself. I was nervous, I had been since I had come up with the idea. I was playing with fire thinking I could predict an unknown beings' reactions and response. But that didn't stop me.

I waited until 2:30a.

Living in the mountains not only meant a lack of neighbors but also a lack of light. When there was a new moon there was no chance of seeing anything at all. And on the deck, that's what I was greeted with. An intense, pitch, blackness. Slowly, the stars in the sky began to show as my eyes adjusted to the dark, and eagerly I waited, and stared.

A star glinted, catching my attention. It glimmered, and grew, and grew, bigger, brighter. Colors bgan to appear within the star, swirling. My breath caught and my heart leapt into my throat. It was the light, the same light. I couldn't waste the moment. I wanted to bask in the warmth, the peace, the bliss, but it seemed like this light could never get away from me fast enough. Though it liked me enough to keep coming back...

I swallowed and placed my hand on the wall that the railing was connected to, and quickly I set one foot up and pushed myself a top. It wasn't hard to balance on the railing, even as the light grew brighter, blinding me. My heart thudded, painfully. My ribs were thrumming, and my body was tense with trepidation. I heard a sound, deep, like a machine. It groaned out to me, almost as if it were upset. I didn't care.

I moved my hand from the wall and let both of my arms hang at my sides. A cool wind blew through my hair, and I lifted my face to the light.

"You'll have to catch me if you don't want me to die." And I stepped off. Without hesitation, before I could lose my nerve.

It was stupid. Dumb. Not at all a thought-out plan. I couldn't see the ground through the blinding light, but I knew the impact was coming and even in that moment I didn't regret it. Because I would have done anything for an answer.

I felt the same warmth I had grown accustomed to and become addicted to. It wasn't feathering inside of me, it was solid on the surface. I was blinded by a stark white light, an almost painful brightness that burned my eyes and brought forth tears. For the first time I could touch something solid in the light and I moved my hands desperately searching for a place to hold on. To keep whatever, whoever it was, with me until I opened my eyes. But it was as if I was hugging a wall of stone! There were no curves or edges I could grab, wrap around.

"Lift thy gaze to me." A voice spoke. A voice as deep as thunder but as soft as music. The light was still blinding me, I squinted and covered my eyes when gradually the light softened.

My mind wanted my heart to race but it held calm. Swallowing, I moved my hands from my face and looked down at my legs and the surface I sat on. I blinked to clear my vision, because I had to be mistaken.

"Your boldness is no more?"

I looked around and saw a picturesque landscape, with lush grass, flowers in colors I had never seen, and a sky that held the stars while cradling the sun. And looking at me, were eyes that were so green they could've been yellow, and they were framed by thick, ink black lashes. Only, I sat in their hand, no bigger than a hamster. Their face was glowing in a way I could hardly process. I had never seen anything so beautiful and terrifying.

I wanted to speak, anything, but my body was frozen.

"You dare me to unveil my form yet now find yourself speechless."

I was. So speechless. Dumbfoundedly speechless and I was hating myself more and more every second because of it.

"Wh--Who are you?" I managed to fumble. They rose a brow.

"You can call to me as Dio." His words rippled through me, and I felt a haze blanketing me. I felt a change underneath me and when I looked, I was taking up more space in his hand. I touched my abdomen and trailed down to my legs, as if it would tell me something.

"Am I growing?"

"Acclimating. You gave me little time to respond so your perception had no time to adjust." He could have been scolding me but all I heard was music. Something soft, sweet, it was magical.

His hand went from cradling me, to cupping me, as I grew. I felt like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole. But he said it was only my perception...?

Even with my perception righted I was still dwarfed in this world, surrounded by trees the size of mountains and flowers larger than my hands. Dio towered before me, still glowing like an apparition.

"What are you doing to me?" I didn't know how else to phrase it, I just wanted an answer. I wanted every answer.

"I touch you not." He lifted his hands and bells sounded, it was clinking of chains and charms. He was elaborately clothed in white, jewels hung over a bare chest, black hair entwined in gold cascaded over his shoulders. My hand rested on my stomach where flutters began.

"This feeling. I'm so calm." My voice was a whisper and my legs felt weak. The tension in my shoulders and neck evaporated and I felt loose.

"You could never sleep, I merely assisted." His eyes looked over me, with a curiosity cloaked in care.

"How? What did you do that made me fall asleep? That made me..." I stopped myself, unable to say it aloud.

"I read poetry."

"Poe-" I tilted my head as a puzzle began to piece together. "Poetry, ecstasy...this haze." I lifted my hand and watched it blur with motion. "Dionysus? The god of wine, poetry, ecstasy and pleasure."

"Those are my people, yes!" He sounded amused but also pleased with me. I was even more enamored, pulled under his spell. "At one time we were known as pleasure Gods, that was many rotations ago for your realm."

It was so much information, more than I knew what to do with. People? That were pleasure gods? I blindly felt behind me for support, knowing my body was losing balance. I felt my legs give and simultaneously felt an arm across my lower back. I gasped as my chest came into contact with a sturdy form and my cheeks rested against the cold metal of his jewelry.

"Give yourself time to adjust, Human. This isn't your realm." He spoke into my hair and his breath was warm, my body molded to his, relaxed and unafraid.

"I didn't hear your poetry. I never heard anything." I spoke against him, rambled more like it. I wasn't even sure I was making any sense. He kept his arm at my lower back and with his other I felt him stroke my hair from crown all the way down my back.

"Sound doesn't travel through the portals, but lights do. I sent you lights with my poems."

My eyes were growing heavy, but I didn't want them to. I didn't want to leave. I knew if I closed my eyes, I wouldn't see him when I opened them again. I grabbed onto him, I clung at his shoulders and pushed myself into him.

"Don't send me back. Not yet." I wrapped my arms around him and brushed my lips against his neck as I plead. "How will I call for you again? How will you hear me? I can't leave yet, not yet." I was so tired, losing the world around me, losing my grip on him.

"Call to the stars Astraeus, and I will hear you in every sphere."

I was slipping, his voice was fading. I cupped his face and pressed my lips to his, desperate to leave with the feel of him. To know more than what I felt from the lights.

I don't know if he kissed me back.

But when I woke in my room, to my white walls and floral curtains, his voice echoed in my mind like a whisper:

Human women are indeed the universes sweetest verboten.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ To Be Continued… ♥

#monster lover #exophelia #alien boyfriend #monster fucker #to be continued #alien smut #alien lover #dark romantica #kinktober #smut writing #smut with plot

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aqua-loves-writing · 1 year ago

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Chapter 3 part 2 is here!

Part 2: Among the rocks

Late into the night, the guards brought the prisoners back into their cells. Only a few windows showed off the starless night, a cold breeze flowing through the stony halls. When everyone was able to go to sleep at last, Alice kept mining all alone, a guard watching her.

“Phew,” she brushed the sweat off her forehead, “One sack left.”

She looked back at the guard, dozed off on a small stool.

“Hm,” she slowly put the pickax on the ground , it didn’t wake him up, “Good.”

She sat down, slowly moving her chains.

Finally, a break. Man, this took hours, I hope Mister Miroslav is alright. Some guards took him somewhere. I hope they didn’t do anything…but will hope change anything? What even caused him to act like that earlier? He was looking for something, but what? Hm, maybe I could.

Carefully holding the chains in her hands, she looked around the ground looking for anything unusual, the guard didn’t even flinch. He slept soundly like a baby, but lacking any and all charms of one.

Hm, let’s see. Rocks, rocks, pickax, rocks, ugh a cigarette, of course Rocks, rocks, rocks, great not a rock, a pebble. Yup, this surely won’t take a while

“Whoa,” she didn’t notice the ax on the ground and almost tripped and fell. “Phew, that was close-”

But she dropped the chains, making a loud noise causing the guard to wake up from his beauty sleep.

“Ugh-what?!”

“Shoot,” she bit her lip.

“You,” the guard stomped his way to her, sword in his hand, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t tell me you were trying to escape?”

“Oh me? As if. I was trying to…look for rocks on the ground to fill the sack with, that’s all. They’re small, but could still be practical for…whatever it is that people use this for.

“...Really?”

“Yes, see,” she picked several rocks from the ground, in different sizes, “These will fill up the sack in seconds.”

“...Fine,” he went back to sit on the stool, this time fully awake, watching her every single step.

“Go on,” he hit the ground with his sword, “Work.”

Clenching her fists, she forced a smile on her face, “Of course, oh most hardworking of guards.”

These damn things.

She looked back at the chains around her legs as she worked, her expression cold, filled with rage. She almost let out a large flame but she concealed them, like every other time this happened.

Every night, I go to sleep, I have this dream. It starts with those shadowy figures, their empty white eyes staring at me. They call me names, threaten me, and I’d try to run away, but no matter how much I’d try to run, they’d pull my hair and body, always capturing me in the end. I’d try to use my flames to fly away, but then, the chains. They’d suddenly appear around my legs, and a shock was spread throughout my body. It wouldn’t stop, I couldn’t move, all I could do was scream. Then I’d wake up, in that cold small cell. When I first woke up from that dream, I cried, I cried and cried for hours. It’s been so long since the last time I cried…I need to keep looking.

“Tch, hurry it up, I don’t have time for this. I need to prepare for his arrival. Spirits, just thinking about the boss complaining about it is annoying.

“Alright, I got it-”

“He is coming next month!? And he is acting like he’s coming in 10 minutes. He’s an imperial vassal and what not, but so what-”

Yeah, I’m not going to listen anymore.

The guard’s incessant complaining did fast up the mining process in one way or the other.

Who the heck is he even talking about? Imperial vassal? You know what? I don’t care, I need to finish this-huh?

Among the same black rocks covering the same muddy ground, she saw a small shine. It was different from how the rocks shined, it was small and silver,you could mistake it for a small star that fell from the sky.

Could that be it?

She carefully went closer to it, without the guard taking notice.

A necklace?

Crouching down, she found a small necklace with an old and rusty locket attached to it.

I think this was where he fell earlier today, so this must be it! I wonder what’s inside.

Opening it up, she saw two small black and white pictures. On the right, was a young woman, wearing a beautiful gown, and on the left two kids, a young boy, looking embarrassed to take a new picture, and a small girl next to him picking a booger off her nose.

Huh. Who are these people? Are they his family? I haven’t seen these types of pictures before, but they seem quite old. I know Mister Miroslav was here before me, but for how long exactly? Years? Decades? How long has it been since he has last seen them?

The more she thought about it, the more it ached her.

“The hell you're doing over there,” the guard yelled.

“Oh,” she hid the necklace in her pocket, “Nothing, was just about to mine the rocks here. Heh”

“...Well, as I was saying, he-”

—

After an hour or so of mining, collecting and having to bear more complaining, she finally finished and left the mines, the guard pointing a sword at her back

“Why the hell should we clean up the food storage, he is going on a pilgrimage for crying out loud and they think he’d check on our bread?! Why type of…”

Just a few more minutes Alice, a few more minutes.

She carefully walked around the mines, holding the chains and watching for the things on the ground. Her guard wasn’t as careful as he tripped, the sword almost hitting him, but it landed next to him instead.

“Oh, too bad,” she walked off leaving him lying down on the ground.

Finally, free from that guy. Now I can find Mister Miroslav and give this to…him

When she left the mines, she entered a large room, filled with loong wooden tables and a small cafeteria on the side. But those weren’t noticeable by all the guards tossing and moving across the place, the prisoner barely catching up to them. They all carried various things, saying things that barely made any sense.

“What…is going on?”

“You brat, what the hell do you think you’re doing…what is going on?”

“Graham,” a guard carrying large paper scrolls said, “Thank the spirits you’re here, leave this girl and help-”

“Whoa, wait, what is going on?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? The plan’s changed. He’s not going to come next month, it’s next week!”

“...Next week. Next week? Next week the Knight of Miracles is going to come!?”

“Oh, don’t complain to me.”

“Son of a-brat,” he pushed Alice away, “Pick up a broom or whatever, I really don’t have time for this…”

“Uh, fine oh so daring knight,” she picked up a cloth and bucket and began cleaning up the floor along with several other prisoners.

“Tch, what’s the big deal anyway,” she overheard two prisoners gossiping, “Who even is this Knight of Mightiness or whatever.”

“It’s the Knight of Miracles, actually, he’s the newest member of the imperial ambassadors and apparently the most powerful and loved one?”

“Oh really? Do tell.”

“Nobody knows who he is or where he came from, but around two years ago, he appeared in front of the emperor himself and became his most respected soldier since that day. Heck, he was chosen to fulfill the ancient summoning!”

“The-the ancient summoning?! Him? Damn! What did he do to get all that? Quell thousands of beasts or something?”

“Even better, he discovered a completely new type of magi for the first time in

“Oi, who’s talking over there?!”

The two prisoners immediately shut their mouths and scrubbed the floor faster.

Yeah, I don’t really care about the Unian government for all of this.

“The people could spell trouble,” a hand touched her shoulder, “I suggest you distance yourself from them

She happily turned around “Mister! You’re alright!”

“Heh, for now. How was it? I must apologize for causing you to work so hard for so long.”

“Eh, could have been worse, that guy over there either complained or slept through his shift, so I was able to relax a bit.

“I see,” he had a tired look to his smile, “Still, you need to be more careful not to upset them any further, you know what they’re like, who knows how differently yesterday could have gone.”

“Yeah-oh, about yesterday,” she looked around to see the guards not paying attention to them, “While I was in the mines I looked around and found this.”

“Found what-”

“Ta-da, a necklace!,”

While she joyfully showed him it, his reaction was the exact opposite of any sort of joy

“I found it near some rocks and it was hard to notice at first. It’s really old and also charming, and the pictures inside are nice too. That woman was beautiful and that one boy had a funny look on his face. Are they your family-”

“Give it back!”

He grabbed it off her hands, startling her and everyone else when he screamed. She looked up to see a horrified look to his face. He looked at her with anger and fear, holding the necklace to his beating chest. He then straightened his back seeing what he had done.

“Mister-”

“Oh, what’s going on this time!”

The guards took quick notice of his weird behavior, “You two again? How many time do we have to tell you people this, you either work, or you die.”

“But,” before she was able to say anything, Miroslav let out his arm, stopping her from taking another step.

“Please, don’t blame her, it was all on me, We’ll get back to work this second.”

“Tch you better, and that counts for everyone here, get back to work!”

When the guard left, Alice tried reaching out to Miroslav, but he walked away, quietly muttering under his breath, “I’m sorry, and thank you.”

#my writing #chapter 3 #rebellious flame #reflame #writeblr #writing community #am writing #creative writing #fiction #original fiction #writers on tumblr #writers corner #fantasy #fantasy fiction #web novel #tapas novel #tapas

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help-help-i-need-an-adult · 8 months ago

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Being a night person who’s raised by a morning person often leads to literal abuse beyond the verbal and lack of access to things.

So, context of how much of a night owl I am. I remember being 3 years old and sleeping till noon if left to my own devices. This worked great when I convinced my parents I could be trusted to get myself to daycare (5 houses down) on my own. And I just would lie to the adults when I got there “I’ve been here all day! Playing outside! Can I have my lunch please?”. It worked. Kindergarten was a rude awakening though.

I literally didn’t sleep during the week when I was in school. Sunday-Thursday: no sleep. Because I COULDN’T fall asleep. And then I had to be up at 6am to get ready for school, feed myself, and catch a bus by 6:30. I’d barely hit the point where I could begin to fall asleep regardless of how tired I was by the time I had to be up.

I literally wore a uniform to school for years at a school that DIDN’T HAVE A UNIFORM because it was one less thing to take time and brainpower in the morning. That was a minimum of 10 more minutes I could be laying down pretending to sleep.

I didn’t do makeup either. Usually had a haircut I didn’t have to do more than brush. Same reason. I still don’t brush my teeth in the morning because I’d cut it out for, you guessed it, 2 more minutes laying down.

I always showered at night because I was awake enough and had the time. Ain’t no time for that in the morning.

Then on Friday night, I got to stay up and spend time with my dad and my older sister who’d come home from college for the weekend (nearly every weekend). And on Saturday, I’d (usually) get to sleep till I was ready to wake up. Which, considering I hadn’t slept for days, was a long ass time. When I did wake up, there would be no food left from breakfast and several passive aggressive comments about it. Then on Sunday, my morning person mom would force me awake for church.

I literally convinced mom that I wanted to attend the only historically black Lutheran church in my city because it still had an 11am start time from back when the mom’s all had to get white families ready for church first. I did like that church, but my motivation to attend that one and drive across the city for it was all about sleep. I only knew about it because my family had attended that church for a few years when I was very little so my brother could go to their school for free. You know what I remembered about it despite being 5 last time I’d been there? I didn’t have to wake up till 9-10am to go to that one. Any other church nearby would have been a 7am wake-up call.

I manipulated every aspect of my life that I possibly could using lying or plain neglect of my personal health to try and be able to survive the morning person world I was stuck in. But it didn’t make mornings easy to deal with.

On summer and winter breaks, I’d go walk around the neighborhood at night and climb trees and look at the moon, or read till I could finally sleep. Unless this was a “I’m gonna fix you” summer.

One summer when I was 11, mom shipped me off to live with her best friend 2-3 hour drive away for a dyslexia program. Mom expressed she was doubly thrilled because said friend enforced a mandatory 9am wake up time every day regardless of schedule. “This will fix your problem!” Literally I just spent the summer tired and bullied (her daughter was a bully and literally my first rapist.) but I did learn enough about spelling that I went from a 2nd grade to 12th grade reading level. But yeah. I remember being up till 5am every night because that’s when my body let me try and sleep usually.

Another summer, mom asked me to help her start a garden. This was fair. Mom is disabled and couldn’t do a lot of the beginning work of a garden. So I helped. I did the physical labor to turn the soil, add fertilizer, plant the seeds, etc. I was even prepared to go out and weed the garden once a week or something.

The next morning, she’s waking me up at 8am. “You have to go and water the garden!” She proclaims with clear joy and pep only a morning person or actor can muster that early. “No? It’s your garden. Watering is your job.” “But I can’t! You have to do it for me. You promised!”

1. I didn’t promise to maintain her guarded. I promised to help her with the physical labor beyond her physical capabilities.

2. Watering the garden DID NOT fall into that category because she could access and operate the garden hose just fine. She may have been slow about it, but she could absolutely do it.

3. If it had been a once in a while “I’m having a flare and feeling bad” or if she’d been hospitalized again, I would have watered her garden for her. No problem. But I’m not doing it for her every day. This was HER hobby. Not mine.

So, when she insisted I had to be the one to do this for her every day which meant waking up early because it “had” to be done when the sun was barely up, I picked up my pillow and blanket and went to sleep on the couch in the basement where she couldn’t follow me and couldn’t continue to easily harass me.

The garden died before it even started to grow. Mom didn’t want help with a hobby. She wanted me to be a morning person.

Another summer, my morning person mom was so upset about my lazy sleep schedule she tried to fix it with abuse.

She decided I would stay awake 2 full days and one full night in-between without even laying down and resting (which I did at least do during school weeks). Literally not allowed in my bed or to lay down until it was 9pm at the earliest on the 2nd day. Surprise surprise. This did NOT “fix” my sleep schedule. It just made me angry and meant I watched The Titanic a lot because some channel had it on every night for a month.

Another summer, my sister’s boarding school was also a fine arts summer camp, and she was working at the camp over the summer. She managed to pull some strings and get me a 6 week spot in their 3D art program. Every morning at 6:30am, we were all woken up, sent outside to gather around a flag-less flagpole, and sing a song “I’m alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic” over and over until they deemed us awake and enthusiastic enough to tell us the morning news. Then we’d eat breakfast, get ready for our stuff, clean our cabins, and head off to our individual classes. This was every day except Sunday for 6 weeks. The one time mom came to visit my sister and I during this adventure, she commented “this is great! You’re gonna have a healthy sleep schedule finally!” It didn’t change my default sleep schedule.

At one point, my mom started to suspect that maybe there was an actual medical underlying issue causing me not to be able to sleep. So she set me up with a sleep study. It came back with no issues. Nothing wrong with me whatsoever. My other problem was them asking “did you sleep?” When they put me in a completely dark room with no way of telling if time was passing or if I’d just slept and woken up without dreaming or noticing time didn’t pass. Very unhelpful.

But mom doubled down after that. Volunteered me to stay with my principal for a week in the summer and a week in the winter to look after and protect her from her chickens. Mom’s logic was “my sleep schedule is great because I was a farm kid and had to take care of cows. You’re a city kid. Send you to take care of time sensitive animals!” The week in winter turned into a month due to an ice storm. These adventures in “why I hate chickens and think we should eat them to keep them humble” did not fix my sleep schedule. It just meant I slept on a floor, in a sleeping bag, getting wood chips in my sleeping bag because the house didn’t have HVAC but a wood burning stove in the living room for warmth, and had to try and sleep with my principal on the only couch in the house 6 feet from me, while I Dream Of Jeanie or Bewitched played ALL night right above my head. And I was late for school every day. Because I was exhausted and not even sleeping on weekends in this environment. For a month. Not to mention the school work (high school and colllege) and part time job I was working.

This doesn’t even BEGIN to cover the passive aggressive way she’d wake up at 5:30-6am every day and turn on the morning news. She would turn the TV up as loud as it could possibly go “because I’m hard of hearing and it’s loud when I’m cooking! I need to be able to hear it!”

It was so loud the house would vibrate. I learned to sleep through this.

She didn’t care that she could just catch the same news an hour later while she was eating the breakfast she was eating and at a reasonable level. She didn’t turn the TV down when she sat down to eat anyway. Which is wild, because she always kept the TV loud but never THAT loud except for the morning news. She was trying to wake everyone up to match her schedule. I had to sit in the dinning room with that TV while I ate breakfast for school. At that volume. It’s a miracle IM not deaf. And people wonder why I talk so loud.

For context, she only did this to me. The rest of my family is full of night owls, but somehow, I was the problem.

She didn’t feel she could go after dad directly. My sister was the “golden child” and despite being a night owl with an obvious alcohol problem by 15, she did everything she was expected to often before she was asked and didn’t struggle with health issues, neurodivergency that anyone could pin point, or any of the other things that made me and my brother “problems.”

My brother is a night owl, but if you put him on a routine, he will begin to stick to it. It’s how he functions. Grandma put him on a sleep schedule when he was less than a year old and mom only had to correct it 2 or 3 times when the school wake-up time changed. So he’d stay up super late but then get up without issue or complaint the next day. So he was a problem child that got him shipped off to live with my aunt and uncle in another state one year, but his sleep schedule didn’t register to my mom as an issue.

But me? I couldn’t read at 2 years old and manage my own homeschooling like my sister could. I couldn’t be quickly forced into a routine like my brother.

So mom got creative.

And the creativity was toxic at best. Abusive at worst.

“But help-help, this is a reflection of your mom, not morning people.” Yes it is. Everyone above gave perfect clear examples of how morning people oppress night people on the macro. I gave you a specific and brutal example of the micro. They are the same issue. The same oppression.

(This also didn’t cover the naps she would take in the middle of the day. She didn’t have a job after I was in 4th grade, because, again, disabled. So she would wake up super early, do her morning routine, get me and dad out the door, then sit down in a recliner in front of the TV with reading material and the dog in her lap. She’d be asleep before noon. Then would STAY asleep until well after I got home. Because I was nice enough to try and let her sleep if I could. She’d wake up when dad got home and threw a fit that she hadn’t done even the dishes that day. And she’d be in bed again by 9 or 10. If I had to call her from school for an emergency, I had to really hope said emergency happened in first or second period so mom would be awake to hear the phone ring. I often was stranded places FOR HOURS alone and at night (college campuses where choir rehearsal took place) because she fell asleep and didn’t come and get me. One time, this got me in trouble with the front office. It was a half day and she said she was picking me up so don’t take the bus. I figured this was within her awake schedule. So I didn’t take the bus. And she didn’t show up. And she didn’t answer the phone. The lady at the front desk was supposed to be in an all staff meeting but was stuck watching me and mad about it and lecturing me. I was there till when school was supposed to let out normally when mom finally showed up. Of course, she’d slept through it. She apologized over and over but really? I didn’t want an apology. I wanted to not be stranded all the time because of her naps. She knew she’d fall asleep, why not set an alarm? Her alarm clock work her up just fine at 6am. I used to make the jokes to other kids who were occasionally late to being picked up from choir “so your parents don’t love you either, huh?” It wasn’t till my last year in that choir that they mandated an adult stay with the kids till they were picked up. I’m assuming I finally made the joke to the wrong kid. That was also the only year mom convinced dad to take some of the responsibility to come get me after rehearsal. So I only pissed off the choir adults one day a week instead of two unless there was a performance I was also going to be picked up late from. No cellphone of my own during any of this, by the way. If something had gone wrong, I would have just been gone. Survival was on me.)

Ok wait let her speak

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cassioo · 1 month ago

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Yes!!! Which part is your favorite? I loveee the character design in the trials, very cool. Also good to hear you're not sick anymore! I'm okay, tired. Slept for 11 hours last night lmaooo. Nothing interesting to tell, just been going to uni and sleeping tbh. You?

mm, i think i only watched “outlast trials” and “outlast 2”. the designs are AMAZING, but more so, the lore. i’m way too much into the 50s atmosphere (considering my love for “fallout”) + the human experimentation part of the game; the tortures, the mental manipulation, the lack of consciousness and the hallucinations. more so, i want to play co-op with someone once i get a decent pc <’3

omggg, yeah, i know the feeling: you either not sleep enough and feel drained, OR you sleep too much and feel exhausted like you’ve never slept before 😭 like, leave me aloooone, i just wanna mimimi with sweet dreams (...are made of this...)

me too, girl. i was trying to write something, but couldn’t focus on anything else but finishing my studies while i have the time. i have a meeting with friends on saturday to eat meat somewhere in nature, and then i have “gladiator 2” planned to watch with my mom next week!!

#ask #flowrmoth

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preekar · 2 years ago

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Hi guys it’s been a while since i’ve done my reflections but here’s a run down of my week.

wednesday (05/17) i took my math 32B final and i was so so miserable, this class is actually humbling me so hard and I’m not able to manage everything. I didn’t think math could get this much harder because i felt like math 32A wasn’t that difficult. what upsets me the most is that i actually studied for this midterm and i made dumb mistakes. i’m such a shit test taker and if there’s one thing i’d give anything to improve at, it’s taking tests. I’ve been so bummed out the entire week because of this test and just how i’ve been lacking so bad academically. I’ve been finding it so hard to be cheerful and hang out with all my club friends because I’m constantly worried about my grades. I don’t know how to change this because time is running out and I feel so all over the place.

thursday (05/18) I slept in on thursday because i was catching up with sleep from not sleeping wednesday at all. i don’t mean to kill the vibe but i never feel like doing anything anymore. Like my friend asked me to sing with her and i just made excuses as to why i couldn’t (i was just tired and wanted to be alone). However, I did go to frat row at night to make sure intoxicated college students were safe and I had such a good time with @ashleylim @elliemyun and @samuelahn23 ,, it’s moments like this that I enjoy being in this club. I went to sleep feeling satisfied (even tho i got NO WORK DONE the entire day). I have a midterm coming up in a few days and if i don’t absolutely grind for that, i am effectively screwed for it. Wish me luck, i’ll need it :)

friday (05/19) Today was an alright day. I went for my classes for the first time in so long. I feel like i always just eat the same thing and i’m so frustrated that my life feels so monotonous. I go for the same meetings and eat the same food and do work the same time everyday and sleep late constantly and wake up feeling shitty. I just want to break this tiresome cycle but i don’t know how. I need a break and I’m so happy i’m going home next weekend. One good thing ab today was that we had a talent show. I feel like i haven’t sang in so long, and today i sang one of my all time favorite songs ‘Slipping through my fingers’ by Abba. This song is hella personal to me and i’m glad I was able to sing it. I loved watching my friends do their talents- @trinityho0516 (infamous horse girl) cuts hair pretty well ((she searched up how on wikihow 10min before giving @jakeampong a fresh cut but it’s ok we live and we learn😁😁😁😁)) I actually ate a lot today JUST STUDY SANDWICH AFTER STUDY SANDWICH I SWEAR IM STRESS eating too much these days but it’s okay hot girl summer incoming🔥🔥🔥

saturday (05/20) ALRIGHT LAST DAY TO RECAP!! I had a good sleep but only slept like 5 hours and then got CPR certified with gangy. my certifications expiring soon so i’m glad this worked out well timing wise. I had 14 lectures to catch up with and after today i have 8 so im happy. My midterm is in t-2 days and im so scared. I don’t like taking my grades this seriously but sometimes i gotta and i feel bad for distancing myself from my friends. I haven’t got any of my club work done, but i hope they understand. I got study sandwich today and then DINNER WITH MY PSEUDO GG BIG JAMIEEE and @nikkichen04 and @samuelahn23. they’re all so much fun to hang around and i hope we can have more epic dinners in the future!!! I have decided that i am going to get 7 hours of sleep today before my tutoring sesh tmr. wish me luck musssssss

ALRIGHT THATS THAT I HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS TERRIBLE WEEK OF MINE

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18feeling80 · 2 years ago

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2/20/2023 Time: 8:53 AM

At the moment I’m feeling pretty confident about taking charge of my day. Although I only slept for a couple hours, I feel good about not sleeping in today and taking the time to execute certain things that I’ve been putting off.

I’ve been in a sorta funky mood these last 4 months following the breakup with my fiancé of 8 years. High school sweethearts some would say to me. But, this break up was a mutual thing, or so I tell myself. I know that for a fact our relationship ended because I let it. I let my love for her slip away and was becoming hyper focused on myself and trying to dig myself out of this never ending abyss. I was depressed, working 2 full time jobs and didn’t spend the necessary time required to express my love and gratitude. I started to develop irrational fears that something was out to get me and that my life and health were failing me. I withdrew myself from her and was only interacting with her when I felt good. 8 years we were together and we’ve been everywhere and back and done everything imaginable, learning new experiences and growing alongside each other. Towards the end of it all I became very depressed and bitter about the direction of where my life was going. College drop out with minimum education, hardly any income to sustain myself and my family, going out on weekends, and I couldn’t afford to buy her gifts, and a lot of the times I wouldn’t be able to hangout especially on her birthday. Man, did that leave a mark. When I first met her she was in deep despair and confessed to me that she wanted to end her life. I told her that we all feel that way, but there’s so much more to life. She looked at me and smiled. Fast forward I gave her my everything. My love, my time, and my energy. Always reminding her that she is special and she was meant to do great things in this life. She’s been my best friend since then, we were suppose to be getting married this year summertime. I loved her so much but could not give her the life she wanted no matter how hard I tried. It wasn’t enough. I hated myself for not being better, for not being educated, and especially for not being there for her when she needed me most. I had her mf on a pedestal to having her in the back of my mind. Ultimately, driving back home from our Nebraska trip she blew up in my face and spilled her conscious in the hotel room that night for me to realize that she no longer wanted anything to do with me. I remained calm and told her that it’s okay, if that is what you wish I won’t fight you for it. I’ve loved her enough and watched her grow throughout all these years she’s become a full grown woman ready to take on life knowing what she wants. I on the other hand was quite the opposite. Even though I loved her I had to let her go. I had to. Right? Thinking now maybe I should have fought for our love, maybe I should have tried harder. But, knowing me I knew nothing would change unless I let her go. And so, I did. We were several miles away from home in the middle of winter in Salt Lake City confessing every thought, secret, and lies in a dimly lit room of a hotel. We kissed and made love passionately one last time as we cried for several hours knowing we will never once again feel the touch of one another. To never hear the sweetness of each others voice nor see the details edges of each other. I loved so deeply and yet lost it all. All because I lacked the feeling of caring. I stopped caring. Now as time goes on I find that I’m slowly forgetting the sound of her voice every time she spoke my name and the details of her character. She is becoming a stranger. I’ve cried all my tears for her I have nothing left to give, only the longing for her warm embrace and loving smile. As I continue to tell myself that she is gone I have to continuously keep reminding myself that this is for the best, I can and will better myself and become stable in my ways. To become the person I couldn’t be when I was with her and carry on. ~NAS

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

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the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

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donteattheappleshook · 2 years ago

Text

She Came From the Water (Something that washed up...)

Blame @the-darkdragonfly for this....

Summary

Between his dissatisfying job, a constant battle to keep seeing his daughter, and a history of mistakes, losses, and broken dreams, Killian Jones has no place for magic in his life. But when he pulls in his fishing nets one evening only to find a woman caught in them, his life becomes infinitely more complicated. Is she a siren, a selkie, like his daughter believes, or just another lost soul like himself? Suddenly, his life is a thing of fairytales; beautiful women hidden away in cottages, selkie husbands coming back to claim them, and, just maybe, a chance at happily ever after.

A Captain Swan AU based on the film Ondine (2009) for the @captainswanmoviemarathon

Rated M

Read it on Ao3 (because the italics work there) or Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

******

The Changeling

The baby’s scream cuts through the night, pulling Killian from the first deep sleep - or almost deep sleep - he’s had in over twelve weeks. His heart jumps in his chest, as it does every time, pounding rapidly against his ribcage in terror before he remembers and the panic settles into a groan of exhaustion. This is the second time tonight. But that’s not unusual.

Opening one eye he looks over Emma’s shoulder to see the old clock-radio on the bedside table: 3AM, the witching hour. He has to be up in an hour for work and he never realized just how precious a single hour of sleep could be until they brought their son home from the hospital and he was robbed of every attempt at a full night since.

He’s exhausted. Always exhausted. Alice hadn’t been a perfect baby, and he remembers those first months when it was just the two of them, before Eloise took her away, when he was frantic and dead on his feet most of the time. But it had never been like this.

He’d spent night after night in the one room of his cottage, his daughter on the mattress next to him, tucked snugly in a cocoon of pillows he’d built out of fear of rolling over in his sleep and crushing her. He couldn't afford a crib then, but he also couldn’t stand letting her sleep in a drawer like her mother had.

Still, he woke up throughout the night, just to make sure she was breathing, that she was real and alive and he hadn’t ruined her like he did everything. And every time, Alice slept soundly - prefering to have her screaming tantrums in broad daylight where everyone could hear, and look, and judge as he shuffled through the aisles looking for baby formula. But at least then, he’d been able to sleep.

His son is not so inclined. Liam came into the world and apparently decided he didn’t like it one bit and insisted on making his displeasure known at all hours. He cried all the time. Morning, night, noon, he was almost never silent apart from the few sporadic hours he would cease his screaming to briefly shut his eyes.

They’d taken him to the doctor, several in fact when they didn’t get anything helpful out of Whale. But they’d all said the same thing. Colic - He’s perfectly healthy - Some babies just cry - There’s no rhyme or reason to it - You’re not doing anything wrong - He’ll grow out of it eventually. Kilian is starting to doubt that last bit.

Sighing at the early hour, he presses his nose into the long golden mess wrapped in his arms that’s pretending to still be asleep. “It’s your turn,” he grunts, voice heavy and cracked from sleep - or lack of it. She continues her pretense. “Swan,” he chides, begs, breathing the words against her neck. After a moment, another wail piercing the air, she stirs, her groan near a whimper.

“It’s not my turn.” She sounds so tired and helpless that he almost caves then, but his body protests so viciously to the thought of getting out from under the covers that he holds firm.

“I got up at midnight,” he reminds her.

Another pathetic whine. “And I stayed up feeding him after you went back to sleep.”

“And then you woke me to put him back in his crib.” There’s a pause where Liam is quiet, and for a fleeting moment he thinks that maybe neither of them will have to get up. His hopes are dashed by the particularly fierce cry that follows it.

“I pushed him out,” Emma says finally. “You go pick him up.”

Killian groans again. He’s tempted to remind her that he has to go to work today, but knows that she’ll be stuck at home with a screaming baby while he gets a brief respite on the water and thinks better of it. They’d both stayed home at first, Killian not wanting to miss a moment of Liam’s first few months and Emma still recovering from the delivery, David insisting she take as much time as she needs, that the budget could cover the mat leave. He suspects Mary Margaret had some influence there.

He also knows she’d probably like nothing more than to go back into the Sheriff’s office and spend her days patrolling town rather than cleaning baby puke out of her hair. But as kind as Nemo had been in giving him time away, he’d eventually told Killian he had to come back. The older man had been guilt-ridden when he’d called, but his hands were tied; there was only so much he could do to bend policy. As nice as the quiet is though, he hates not being there, misses the chaos and the noise… until he gets home anyway.

With great effort, Killian forces himself up, rubbing at bleary eyes with thumb and finger, the early-winter chill hitting him as soon as he slips from under the blanket and his feet touch the cold floor. “When are you going to stop using that argument?” he asks, reaching out to brush some of her unwashed hair out of her face.

Emma nuzzles further under the comforter. “When you push out a baby the size of a watermelon.”

He’d laugh, almost does, but he’s too tired. “That’s not fair, love. I can’t do that.”

“Then I guess you’re shit outta luck,” is her only answer, mumbled against the fabric of her pillow. He does laugh that time. Perhaps, he thinks, squeezing her shoulder and seeing her breathing even out already, but he considers himself pretty lucky.

The floor is freezing, all of the rugs collected and scattered over the floor of Alice’s room so they could get her to actually leave her bed in the mornings for school. He makes a note to remember to ask for slippers for Christmas this year.

Walking across the small living room and kitchen to the extension they added shortly after their wedding, after finding out Emma was pregnant - we’ll have to build two rooms, she told him coyly. It took him a moment to catch on, to gather her up in his arms and swing her around as a confusion of joy and fear he’d never experienced before hit him all at once. Alice is already outside the baby’s room when he gets there, looking sleepy and cranky.

“He’s crying again.” She doesn’t understand the explanations they give her, that there could be no reason for his heartbreaking screams. In truth he doesn’t really understand it either.

“I know, starfish,” he says gently, running a hand through her hair which now stands a full head taller than it did a year ago. “You go back to bed, all right? I’ll be in soon to tuck you in.”

Alice listens begrudgingly, a grumpy, “I told you we should have gotten a dog,” muttered under her breath. He almost laughs at that too. She’d been extremely disappointed to learn she was going to have a baby brother and not a puppy as she’d expected when they sat her down and told her they had exciting news.

The cries grow louder when Killian opens the door, crosses to the crib and leans over to place a hand on the infant’s small chest. How such giant lungs fit in such a small body is a true wonder. “Hey there little banshee,” he breathes softly, the nickname given by his sister in malice having unfortunately stuck. “What’s got you so upset tonight?”

Sliding his arms under the blankets, careful of his head as Alice always likes to remind him - I kept you alive, didn’t I? - he scoops the little bundle up into his arms, the screams muffled slightly against his neck as Liam’s fingers grip fiercely at the front of his shirt. It had only taken one unbreakable death grip on his chest hair for him to start wearing a shirt to bed every night.

“I know,” he coos gently, rubbing the baby’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I know. Everything’s terrible isn’t it? It’s so hard to be little and not be able to tell us what you want. At least we know you’ll have a hell of a voice when you do,” Killian continues to murmur, words not really making sense but it’s three in the morning and nothing makes sense right now. “I know,” he hushes softly. “You want your mumma don’t you?” Liam’s cries have settled from full out screams to a hiccupping weep as Killian brings him out into the living room.

“But you need to give your mum a break sometimes,” he continues to explain as though the baby understands. “She needs to sleep and so do you. And so do I,” he admits, making his way through the near pitch-black room by memory. “Do you think you can do that, love?” Liam gives an angry shriek in answer. “All right, we’ll talk about it in the morning,” he concedes, nudging open the door to their bedroom.

“What are you talking about in the morning?” Emma asks, sitting up as little as possible and unbuttoning the front of one of her stolen shirts. “We’re married now. What’s yours is mine.” “That’s not how the expression goes, darling.”

“The usual. Stock market. Climate change.”

She reaches for the baby, a hint of a smile on her drained face, and brings him to her breast. “Oh?” she hums softly to the finally quiet infant. “Is that what you’re gonna do? Are you gonna go out and save the world?” Liam, of course, doesn’t answer and she draws a finger over his cheek, his eyes falling shut as he drinks.

“Or are you gonna be an artist like your daddy?” she continues, the way she smiles at their son tugging at Killian’s heart. He laughs whenever she calls him an artist, the drawings he does for Alice scattered over the walls of the little girl’s room, Emma’s own drawing of him still tucked away in his bedside drawer. “Or an anthropologist like your sister?”

“Maybe he’ll join you at the sheriff's station,” Killian suggests and she snorts.

“Hard to sneak up on the bad guys if you’re screaming all the time, kid. We’ll have to work on that, okay? Where are you going?” she asks when he stands.

“He woke Alice. I’m gonna tuck her back in.”

“Poor thing. I’ll call the school in the morning, let her sleep in a bit.”

Killian nods, kisses first Liam’s head then hers and heads back to their daughter’s room. He nudges the door carefully, making sure she’s not asleep already before he goes inside and risks waking her again.

“Has he stopped?” Her little voice carries from under the handmade quilt, a gift from Granny, blue waves with ships, mermaids and pirates painstakingly embroidered on every square. Killian pushes the rest of the way in.

“Aye, for now.”

“Do you know why he’s crying?” she asks, turning over to face him as he sits on the edge of her mattress.

“There’s no reason, love. It’s just what babies do sometimes.”

“Lucy has a baby brother,” she argues defiantly, referring to a friend at school. “And he doesn’t cry all the time. She even brought him to show and tell.”

Killian winces at the thought of Alice bringing Liam to show and tell, the chaos his inconsolable screams would cause. He’s never been out of the house apart from the hospital, both of them too tired to go out to friend’s places and his wails too big of a risk for a short trip to the store or Granny’s. Alice has complained that they don’t all go anywhere together anymore. He hopes they will soon.

“Everybody’s different,” is all he can offer as a platitude and it falls short.

After a moment, Alice sits up, wide eyes finding his in the dark, serious and excited like when they go searching for fairies or she helps him dock the Jolly. “I know what’s wrong with him,” she says with the kind of confidence that’s reserved exclusively for eight-year-old girls.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, stifling a yawn and she nods quickly, folding herself over the side of her bed to reach for something under it. She drags out a massive book, one from her most recent library pillage. Seeing her struggle to lift the heavy brick of pages, he reaches down and helps her bring it up onto her lap. She flicks on her bedside lamp and Killian winces at the intrusive light, knowing he’s definitely not going back to sleep now.

“Here,” she says when she’s flipped through to the page she’s looking for.

She turns the book over to him and Killian tries to squint at the writing, to indulge her when he can, knowing that the attention Liam requires can sometimes leave her overlooked, and hating it. The words are too small for him to make out this late with the dim light, but he can see the images of fairies and children dispersed among the blocks of text. When he looks up at Alice her expression is expectant.

“I think he’s a changeling,” she explains fervently, her voice just above a whisper, as though someone other than him could be listening.

“What’s that?” Killian frowns, his mind too tired to keep up.

“A fairy baby.”

He smiles softly at her but doesn’t mock. “Sweetheart, Emma and I were both there when he was born. You brought him home from the hospital with us. There wasn’t a fairy in sight.”

“I know that,” she says in that tone of hers that’s just shy of calling him an idiot. “I’m not talking about that baby. My brother isn’t a fairy. This baby is,” Alice explains looking towards her door as she says it.

Killian tries not to sigh. He just wants to go lie down. Or at least have some really strong coffee - he’s switched from tea after so many sleepless nights - and enjoy the last few moments of silence he’ll have before Liam wakes up again. “That baby is your brother.”

“No, he’s not. You’re not listening!” she insists, frustrated with him now. “Changelings are fairy babies that are swapped out for human babies. They sneak in in the middle of the night and steal the human baby and leave one of theirs in its place. Look,” she continues, pointing to a place on the page. “Changelings cry all the time, they’re always hungry no matter how much you feed them, and they look like little old men.” Alice looks back up at him as though she’s proved her point and he has to fight back laughter.

“Love, you’ve just described all babies.”

She pouts then, upset. “You’re not listening.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not- ” he starts, then sighs. He takes the book from her lap and sets it back on the ground. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard being woken up all the time and the house being so loud. It’s not fair.” Killian rubs a thumb over her cheek, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced in the lamplight. “Do you want to spend a few nights with David and Mary Margaret? Have a sleepover and some quiet? I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

“That’s not the point!” she hisses in that anxious whisper. “Dad, we have to get Liam back from the fairies before it’s too late. If you bring the changeling to them they have to return the real baby!”

Killian knows he can’t argue his way out of this. “Alice, remember when we talked about how some things from your books are real and some are just make-believe?”

He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that all the fairytales are made up, that the mythical creatures don’t exist - still doesn’t. She’ll learn that on her own one day and it’ll break his heart to see it happen. He wants her to keep believing as long as she can. But after what happened on the pier that day - the day he saw his whole world disappear under the black waves and that he thought the sea had swallowed the last of his happiness - he’d had to make her understand that not everything she reads is real.

Alice nods begrudgingly.

“This is one of those things, okay? It sounds like changelings were made up to explain sick babies when people didn’t have the means to understand what was wrong.” She doesn’t look convinced but some of the fight leaves her. “Liam is your brother and he’s okay and right here with us. He’ll stop crying eventually. And in the meantime,” he continues, lifting the covers so she’ll lay back down under them. “We need to get as much sleep as we can whenever we can.”

Alice settles back down onto her pillow and Killian pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, her brow still pinched in a frown when he presses a kiss to her temple. “Stay in bed as long as you want tomorrow okay? We’ll let your teachers know.” She nods. “I love you,” he adds.

“I love you too,” is her muttered response and he knows she’s not satisfied with his answer but he can also see the way her eyelids are drooping. She’s asleep again before he shuts the door.

He finds Emma buried back under the covers, curled on her side and he comes around to crouch on the floor next to her. She blinks her eyes open slowly, not asleep yet and smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he smiles back, kissing her gently. “Liam back in his crib?” He asks only because once or twice she’s fallen asleep with him cradled next to her like a teddy bear when she was too tired to walk him to his room. Emma nods as he traces his fingers over her own.

“How’s Alice?”

“Tired,” Killian answers honestly and she sees his own concern mirrored in her eyes. “She thinks Liam is a changeling,” he adds with an amused brow raise.

“As in a fairy baby?” He looks at her in surprise. “I know things,” she defends.

“Apparently.”

“Are you coming back to bed?” she asks, the fingers he’d been playing with lacing through his.

He shakes his head, kisses her knuckles. “No, I have to be up in an hour anyway. I’ll take the morning shift and you go back to sleep. At least one of us should get some.”

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her lips, her mouth soft and welcoming beneath his. It doesn’t matter how much time they spend together or apart, how little sleep they get or how much he learns about her past; she’ll always be the siren he pulled up in his net and she’ll always feel like being called home.

Before he can pull away, her fingers untangle from his own, hand coming to his cheek and dragging him back when he breaks the kiss. He goes willingly, smiling against her lips as she explores them with her own, tongue slipping out to tease and sending his pulse soaring. Killian gives a soft groan, hand slipping to her waist as she opens under him and he lets himself taste her, swallow the little sound she lets out when he pulls her closer. His body screams at him to rest, but her pull will always be stronger than any other and it wins out.

She breaks away only enough to speak, breath hot against his lips as her own brush against them with every word. “Or, I know a way we could both not sleep and still get some.” Killian chuckles. It’s terrible and he knows she knows it is, the little smirk betraying her.

“Swan, are you trying to seduce me?” He kisses her again, rising up off the ground and she sits up, slides over to make room for him.

“Shut up, I’m out of practice.”

Climbing onto the mattress he slides under the cover and over her, settling in the space between her thighs and enjoying the way her legs hug his hips, keeping him there. Speaking against the skin of her neck he tells her, “We both know you never needed practice.” From the moment they met she’d been the shore he’d happily run himself aground and every day spent with her since has only proven that he’d been right in crashing into her.

“Good answer,” she breathes, fingers tangling in his hair as he drags his lips and tongue down over her breasts, careful where she’d grown overly sensitive. ‘This is bullshit!’ she’d cursed the first time she’d jumped back in pain from a touch she’d always begged for, anger blown out of proportion by frustration and hormones until she’d been crying. He’d had to hold her while she calmed down. ‘And they’ll never be this big again!’ she sobbed. ‘What a waste.’

Unbuttoning the rest of her - his - shirt, he kisses the still rounded curve of her belly she’d grown so self-conscious of in the weeks after having Liam. ‘You’re perfect, Swan,’ he’d insisted every time. ‘You have to say that. You want to get in my pants.’ ‘Aye, no matter what size those pants are.’

He teases kisses along her thighs towards her center and feels her hand on his shoulder, tugging at him so he raises his head, letting her drag him back to her mouth. Emma pushes at the hem of his shirt, seeming determined to get it off without allowing any space between them. Pulling away long enough to yank it over his head and grinning at her annoyed ‘hey!’ he falls back over her, happy to let her use him however she pleases.

He let his fingers slide over the length of her side, nails grazing along the soft skin of her leg to her knee before starting once again in his quest she’d so rudely interrupted. She gasps into his mouth when he dips them between her thighs, hardening painfully at how slick she is already to his touch, realizing why she hadn’t needed his attention before.

Raising a cocky brow at her she tries to roll her eyes but the gesture is undermined by the way they squeeze shut and her back arches when he slides his thumb over her, lip catching between her teeth.

“It’s the hormones,” she forces out through ragged breath, a small moan slipping free when he touches her again. He smirks.

“You’re nearly past the point where you can keep using that excuse,” he warns against her jaw. “Pretty soon you’ll have to admit that it’s simply my charm and striking good looks that leave you so desperate for me.”

“I’m not… desperate,” she manages to groan out as he works her slowly, already recognizing the familiar rolls and waves of her body, that beautiful selkie song he’d fallen in love with building even as she tries to silence it. He catches the lobe of her ear between his teeth, pulls back and searches her face until she looks at him, eyes heavy-lidded and losing themselves to pleasure.

“I am,” he tells her, not hiding the truth of it, not as if she didn’t already know. “Always,” the word falling from his lips like a confession. He has been since the day he pulled a bloody selkie up in his net. Desperate for her in every sense of the word and he watches her expression soften, some of the pleasure ceding to the love that’s always there beneath it.

Emma takes his face in her hands, kissing him hard and deep until he shifts over her. Regretfully pulling his fingers free of her heat he steadies himself so he can help as she begins trying to shove his sleep pants down his hips. Killian kicks them off somewhere at the foot of the bed, not caring where as she immediately pulls him down against her, reaching for him and taking him in hand.

He lets her guide him, slides in painfully slowly, watching the way her brow pulls down and her eyes fall shut at the feel of them finally joined. He takes his time, hips coming together in long, slow drags, her lips at his neck making him shudder and tense as he tries to make it last, knows she doesn’t need him to, already fluttering around him, trying to pull him over the edge with her.

His thumb tugs at her chin, freeing her lip from between her teeth, knowing he can’t hear her when she falls apart, not with a baby and an eight year old just down the hall, but not willing to have her be silenced. He slants his mouth over hers, letting her cry out against his tongue, swallowing her pleasure and tasting her climax when she shatters around him.

She takes him with her, his siren, always dragging him under to drown in the waves that roll through them, his own release gasped into her shoulder, teeth pressing into the skin between it and her neck as he tries to contain his cry.

They lie together after in the rare, blissful silence, legs tangled, her fingers tracing through the hair on his chest, Killian’s thumb tracing the line of her jaw, along her lips, as they wait for their breathing to settle. He has an alarm, he thinks as his eyes grow heavy again, her own already blinking slowly. He can sleep for a few minutes, can enjoy a moment of peace with his wife before real life has to start again…

A small cry pierces the air, Emma’s eyes snapping open before squeezing shut in dismay. Then again, maybe not. He tilts his head, kisses the tip of her nose and forces himself to roll out of bed and into his pants, off to see to his little banshee. He doesn’t miss her grateful, ‘love you’ muffled against the sheets as he slips out of the room.

***

When Killian wakes up the following morning it takes him a moment to realize what it is about that fact that has him so unnerved. The clock reads four in the morning. It’s his day off, but not unusual for him to be up so early. The sun won’t be up yet so late in the year but the sky still tinges a soft gray in anticipation of it. Emma is there, wrapped around his back, her face pressed into his shoulder blade; Alice will still be asleep for another couple of hours. It’s one of those quiet, peaceful mornings, a lazy one, and he debates letting himself fall back asleep, it’s so rare that he gets to after all…

He darts up, inhaling sharply as realization hits him. Killian doesn’t get to sleep in, at least not for the last three months, not since every single night he’s been startled awake by the sound of a screaming baby. He was up at midnight, he remembers that, but Liam’s never gone five hours without making a sound. Immediately panicked he rushes out of bed, across the cottage to his son’s room, practically sprinting to the crib, not knowing what he expects to find, not knowing what possibility has him so scared. But it’s empty.

“Liam?” he calls, as though the boy could answer. “Liam?” he searches under the crib, around the room in case he fell out or rolled. Nothing. Alice. Maybe Alice has him. When they’d first brought him home she’d tried to help in the mornings, wanting to be the one to take him out of his crib and change him. That had stopped quickly when he’d started keeping her up all night.

“Alice,” he calls, knocking softly on her door as he opens it. He calls her name again when she doesn’t answer and goes in. But there’s no one there, another empty bed and it takes everything he has to keep the paralyzing panic from overwhelming him, leaning into the adrenaline racing through his veins as he rushes back out, shouting Emma’s name.

She comes out of their room, bleary eyed and a little annoyed, but when she sees his face she’s suddenly alert, rushing over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re gone.”

“What? Who?” It only takes a moment before he sees her panic, looking into Alice’s empty room and then running to Liam’s. He knows she’ll find it just as empty. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where the hell are they?”

“I don’t know!” The only time he can remember being this terrified was that night that feels so long ago now, when he’d come home to find Alice at the kitchen table, kept hostage there by the people he hated most in the world. But they’re gone now, dead, both of them, he has to remind himself.

“We have to find them!” Emma nearly shouts, running to the front door and flinging it open, not seeming to notice her bare feet as she continues out onto the frozen earth, looking around frantically.

He’s right behind her, hurrying back through the main room to grab her coat that hangs over the back of the kitchen chair, already pulling his phone out to call David when he sees it. A note. Pink construction paper left on the table, large curling letters with stars over the ‘I’s scrawled out in marker.

Goin to get Liam bak. Dont wory. Killian stares at it in disbelief, Alice Jones signed carefully at the bottom of the page.

Snatching it up he runs to the door. “Swan!” She’s halfway down the lane and he has to shout a second time to get her to look back at him, waving the note for her to see. “I think I know where they are!” She runs back faster than he knew she could.

“Killian?” he hears the voice faintly over the phone. David. He hands his wife the crumpled paper explaining everything to his friend in rushed sentences as he grabs his boots and Emma’s, somehow having the sense to grab some blankets from the couch before darting out the door and into the old car they bought just before Liam was born.

“I think I know where she is, but can you send someone out? Get people to search the woods…” He swallows, “and the beach?”

Alice can swim now. So can he. Killian had made sure they both learned after he nearly lost her to the sea and was powerless to help her. But the water is freezing this time of year. She knows better, he tells himself. He knows she does. But she’s also determined to prove him wrong, to fix things, to prove that she’s right. And there’s not much that can stop his daughter when she sets her mind to something. She wouldn’t go to the water, he reasons. That’s not what she’s looking for, that’s not where she thinks her brother is.

“I’m on it,” David promises, and Killian hangs up as Emma climbs in the passenger seat.

“Where are they?”

“The fairy glen,” he answers, starting the car. “Alice said that if she gives them back their changeling they’ll give her back her brother.”

“Shit,” she hisses, then shouts, “Shit! How long have they been gone?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, hating that that seems to be the only answer he can give her. She’s perched literally on the edge of her seat, hand on the dashboard as though she can make the car go faster by sheer will. He’s already driving faster than he should. “We’ll find them. I promise.”

“They’re together,” Emma says then with certainty, turning to look at him. “She wouldn’t leave him, not without getting her brother back. And even then, she wouldn’t leave a baby to freeze - or a fairy.”

She’s right, he tries to assure himself as they reach the long winding road that will take them to the old Mills estate. Alice won’t even let him kill spiders, she wouldn’t let Liam get hurt, changeling or not. But what if she got lost, what if she got too cold out in the field waiting for fairies who would never come?

When they reach the end of the laneway, Emma is out of the car before he can stop it fully, running to the top of the hill and looking around below. He catches up with her there as she shouts ‘Alice!’ into the still dim light.

“Alice, sweetheart, where are you?” she calls again as he scans the little bit of the field he can make out in the dark.

“Alice!”

He hears a soft cry, one he recognizes immediately after having been woken up by it so many times, followed by a quiet, “Dad?”

“Oh, bloody hell,” he sighs in relief as they both half run, half slide down the hill. He calls her name once more and then sees her, standing from where she’d been sitting in the grass, Liam tucked against her chest, zipped into her parka a blanket around them both. “Thank god,” he chokes, taking his first full breath in what feels like forever as he drops to his knees in front of them and pulls them into his arms. They’re both alive, they’re cold, but not freezing, Liam warmer than Alice for being so wrapped up. Emma reaches them a second later, doing the same, checking them both, face tear-stained.

“Give him here,” she says when Liam lets out another whimper and Alice lets them pull the baby from her coat, Killian zipping her back up quickly as Emma cradles Liam to her chest. “Are you okay?” she asks the girl who nods, looking down at what Killian now sees is a little fairy house, the kind they usually make together, and what he figures is a little fairy crib, fashioned out of sticks and a leaf.

“They didn’t come,” she says quietly, sadder than he’d expected. He wishes he could be patient, but the adrenaline and the fear are somehow still racing and fading at the same time and he feels both exhausted and wound up.

“Come on, love, get in the car and we’ll go home,” he says, standing and reaching for her hand, but she steps back.

“We can’t go. They still have Liam.”

“Alice…”

“We have to wait until they bring him back!”

“Alice, get in the car.”

“We can’t leave without my brother!” she shouts.

“That’s your brother!” he shouts back, his usually firm grip on his temper snapping as he points to the child wailing in his mother’s arms. “Right there! He’s not a bloody changeling, he’s a baby that you could have gotten killed tonight taking him out in the cold like this! You could have gotten yourself killed - Both of you could have frozen to death! Did you even think of that? Did you even think at all?”

“But, I -” she starts, shrinking from him even as her shoulders square.

“Alice! Get in the bloody car!”

She jumps at the same time as he feels Emma’s hand on his arm, a careful “Killian…” drawing his attention to her. And it’s so familiar, that day on the docks when he’d nearly slipped back into the man he used to be, Swan’s hand in his holding him back from taking that step. He looks back at his daughter. Alice’s eyes are wide as she stares at him, watering as her lip begins to tremble.

He reaches for her, the anger gone as quickly as it came. "Alice -" but she jerks away from him, face screwing up before she takes off in the direction of the car. His heart drops. He’s never yelled at her before. He looks between her and Emma, helpless, overwhelmed with guilt.

“Here,” she says gently, handing Liam over. “I’ll go. Give her a minute.”

He can’t do anything but take the squirming baby from her and nod, watching as she goes after Alice, waiting until she’s made it over the top of the hill to follow, baby tucked into his jacket. When he reaches them he can hear Emma’s voice, soft over the little girl’s hiccups and shaky sobs.

“Dad was just scared, sweetheart. People say things they don’t mean when they’re scared. He thought he was going to lose you,” she soothes, wiping her tears away even as more take their place. “He didn’t mean to yell.”

He comes closer, heart breaking at the sight of his daughter so upset because of something he did. “Alice,” he tries and her gaze snaps up to him, still crying but with an anger and an anxiousness behind it now that’s never been directed at him.

“No!” she cries again. “I don’t want you; I want my mum,” she sobs, words broken up by the little shaky breaths she tries to take to stop her tears.

For a moment Killian feels like he’s been punched in the gut, thinks that she’d rather go back to Eloise than be with him after so long fighting to get her here. But then he sees the way she’s clinging to Emma, the way she turns into her after she says it and he realizes it’s not Eloise she’s asking for.

He knows she saw it too, her eyes reflecting the same mix of pain and tainted happiness that he’s sure are in his. Alice has never called her mum before… and this is the worst possible way it could have happened.

***

The drive home is long, the quiet overwhelming. Even Liam sleeps soundly and Killian can’t help thinking that he’d give anything for the baby’s cries to break the silence this one time. Killian keeps glancing at his daughter’s reflection in the rearview mirror. She’s stopped crying but the tear tracks on her cheeks and the sullen way she stares out the window is a sharp reminder of how much he hurt her.

He doesn’t think he was wrong, not in sentiment. What Alice did was reckless and irresponsible. But he shouldn’t have yelled. That was how his father parented - at least before deciding to abandon his children altogether - how Killian swore he never would.

“Are you mad at me too?” he hears, Alice’s voice small and quiet through the crack left open by her bedroom door once he’s put Liam back in his crib.

“No, hon, nobody’s mad at you. We’re just glad you’re both safe.”

“Dad is.”

There’s a pause, Emma taking a slow breath. “Dad got mad and he shouldn’t have yelled. He knows that.” He wonders if she knows he’s out here listening. “But you shouldn’t have taken off in the middle of the night. You know better.”

“I was trying to fix it - so that everything could go back to how it was before and we could go out on the boat again or to Granny’s and you could both be at school…” she trailed off. Killian hung his head remorsefully. He’d missed a science fair last month. Both hadn’t been able to go, not with Liam crying the way he was. She’d won a prize. “I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she says then, choking on fresh tears.

“We know that - of course we do,” Emma assures her.

“I kept him warm, and I wore my hat like Dad always says to.”

“I know you did.”

It’s a moment before she speaks again. He can hear the sniffles as she calms down, or tries to. “I don’t like that he’s sad.”

“Who? Your dad?”

“Liam.” Emma doesn’t answer, the sound of sheets rustling telling him she’s probably pulled the little girl into a hug. “The fairies aren’t real, are they?” she asks then and Killian shuts his eyes in dismay. It’s too soon; she’s too young to grow up. “Magic isn’t real.”

He trusts Emma to handle this. He knows she’ll tread carefully. But he wants nothing more than to go in there and fix things, hug his daughter, tell her magic is real, and he hates that she wouldn’t want him there.

“Maybe not the way it is in the storybooks,” Emma finally answers. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.” Another pause, this one weighted. “I grew up a little like you did. I didn’t have a family and my foster parents weren’t always very nice. Except I didn’t have a dad who loved me like you do, so I stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.”

Killian’s heart clenches in his chest, every detail he learns about Emma’s childhood always stirring anger and helplessness within him - that kids like she and Alice had to go through that, kids like he and Liam, that there’s nothing he can do to change it.

“But then your dad found me, and I got to meet you and now we have all of this. I get to be your mom and Liam’s mom, and you get to be a sister. I think that’s pretty magical.” Alice is quiet and he wishes he could see her face. “We’re a family, Alice. Families fight, but we forgive each other and we always love you. No matter what.”

“So you…” a small sniffle cuts her off. She sounds years younger than she is when she asks, “You still want to be my mum… Even though you have Liam now?”

“Of course I do.” There’s no hesitation in her answer, not betraying the shock or the hurt that he’s sure she feels, he feels it.

“And Dad?”

“Dad too. He loves you. And Liam. He’s got a big enough heart to fit both of you.”

It takes everything he has not to go inside, to walk down the hall into his own room. Because he’d missed it - he’d missed the fact that his daughter was scared they wouldn’t want her anymore now that they had a new baby. He should have known, tries not to take it personally. She’s spent most of her life with Eloise, a mother who made it clear that she was a nuisance, unwanted, kept around because she was useful in the vendetta against her father. And they’d only had less than a year together, of real stability before her whole world was turned upside down again and a new child was in the picture. It’s no wonder she’d think she was replaceable, that parents’ love was conditional.

“How much of that did you hear?” Emma asks, leaning against the doorframe. He looks up from his seat on the mattress, pulls his head from his hands.

“Most of it,” he sighs. “Thank you for talking to her.”

“She’s my kid too,” is her answer, arms crossed over her chest and chin raised even as he can see the small hesitation flicker across her expression.

“Aye, she is,” he confirms, banishing the doubt from her eyes.

She softens then, crossing the room to stand between his knees, taking his face in her hands and tilting it up to look at her. “She’ll be fine. She just needs some time to be upset.”

“With me, you mean. How long will that last?” The question is rhetorical but Emma answers anyway.

“Well, she gets her moodiness from you.” Her little smirk has the corner of his lip twitching before it falls, wondering what else she inherited, what ways he and Eloise may have damaged her. “Hey,” Emma says, drawing his attention back. “She gets all the good things from you too.”

He sighs again, sliding his arms around her hips and resting his forehead against her stomach. “I messed up.”

“You got angry,” she corrects. “That’s not a crime and it’s definitely gonna happen again with a kid as free-spirited as Alice. And her brother will probably be the same… but worse because he’s got some of me in him too,” she chuckles. “We’ve only been at this for a year, babe. We have so much more screwing up to look forward to.” His laugh is more of a groan. “We’ve just got to make sure they know someone loves them.”

Killian pulls back, raising his head to look at her and sees that far away feeling in her eyes that haunts her sometimes, creeps along the edges of her happiness and threatens to drag her down. And he’s there every time to pull her back to the surface. Just as she did for him.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have that growing up.” She looks down at him, that brave, beautiful face she puts on when she’s not ready to talk about something, pretending it doesn’t bother her. “You do now,” he promises.

“I know.” Her smile is wobbly as he turns to kiss the wrist of one of the hands resting on his cheek.

“Good.”

“Think you can sleep?”

“Probably not.”

Her reaction is sympathetic, then mirthful. “Great, so you won’t mind getting up for the next feeding?”

He huffs out a small laugh despite himself, squeezing her side and holding fast when she tries to squirm away giggling. Grabbing the back of her thighs he pulls her into his lap, settling her legs on either side of him. Emma’s arms fall around his shoulders, grinning at him, radiant and gentle despite everything that happened tonight.

“Aye, love. I’ll wake with the lad.”

Killian reaches a hand up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, pull her down enough that he can press his lips to hers. He kisses her chaste and soft, just enough to let some of the light she carries flow through him, let her breathe life back into his lungs as she has so many times before. The look she gives him when they break apart tells him she knows exactly what he was doing.

***

As expected, Killian is still awake when Liam begins crying a few hours later. The sun is up now - it had still been dark when they got home. It’s a rare day on the island, the clouds having abandoned their near constant sentinel across the sky, the light shining down into the room and turning Emma’s hair that golden hue that always glinted like the waves when they were out on the water.

Careful not to wake her, he leans over, places a kiss on her shoulder and rises from the bed. By the time he reaches the hallway, however, the crying has quieted, a low whimpering rather than his usual morning shrieks. Treading carefully in case it was a false alarm, he peeks into the open door to listen and see if he settles.

But standing at the side of the crib, up on tiptoes with her chin resting on the gate is Alice, speaking low to the baby, words he can’t make out. Liam is bundled up in blankets but he can see his attention fixed on his sister. He hesitates, not sure if he should leave them be, if she still doesn’t want to speak to him, and curious to know what she’s doing.

The door creaks when his shoulder bumps it and Alice jumps, whirling around to face him, and then startling again when she sees it’s him. He tries not to let the hurt show on his face. “I wasn’t going to take him!” she swears, eyes wide, anxious.

“I didn’t think you were.”

“He was crying.” Killian nods, taking a step closer, relieved when she doesn’t shrink away from him but turns back to her brother. “I was just telling him a story… I don’t like it when he cries.”

“Nobody does, love,” he agrees gently, joining her at the edge of the crib. Liam’s face, tear streaked but not screaming or fussing, stares back up at him with wet eyes. He reaches a hand in, lets the baby grab his fingers, closing his mouth around them and chewing.

“Why is he so sad?” she asks, eyes wide, worried.

“He’s not sad.” He looks at his boy again, growing by the day, loved, cared for, drooling all over his hand.

He has Emma’s eyes and chin, his ears and nose, but when Killian looks at him all he can see is his brother. He’d spoken his name out loud when the nurse had handed them the baby, in awe and disbelief as they laid him on his mother’s chest. Emma had smiled at him, misunderstanding - or perhaps understanding him more than he realized. Yeah. He looks like a Liam, doesn’t he?

Kilian still sees his brother reflected in Alice’s expressions, the set chin, the stern determination of her brow. But every day she looks more like her namesake, beautiful and kind, and he can’t believe how lucky he is to have been loved by those two people and to be able to see them again in those he’s loved since.

“He just doesn’t have the words to tell us what he wants,” Killian explains. “So he makes noise until we figure it out.”

“Like a dog.”

He snorts. “Aye, like a dog.”

“Then… it’s not my fault?” she asks, not looking at him, fixated intently on the baby whose eyes are drifting slowly closed.

“Why would it be your fault?” he blinks at her, surprised, confused, wondering just how many feelings she’s kept buried these last three months.

“Because I didn’t want him,” Alice admits, staring at her hands gripping the bars of the crib. “And maybe he knew it. And that made him sad. And maybe that’s why the fairies took him away.” She sniffles, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “Because I wanted them to.”

“No, love,” he says, unable to stand her avoiding eye contact any longer. He crouches down, taking both her hands and turning her to face him. “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. Not Liam’s crying… and not me getting angry.”

She looks at her feet, bare on the cold wood floor. It all makes sense, her believing they wouldn’t want her, thinking Liam was sad because she didn’t want him. Alice knows what it is to not be wanted, how much it hurts, and he hates that he let that fear carry over into their lives here, that he didn’t make more of an effort to ensure she knew how happy he and Emma were that she was here with them.

“I’m sorry I took him,” she apologizes, voice cracking with more tears she’s holding back and he can’t stand to see her cry again.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I yelled - I shouldn’t have done that. I was just so worried about you. Both of you.”

She nods, understanding, so wise beyond her years in some ways and still very much a child in others. He pulls her into his arms, squeezes her tight and breathes a sigh of relief when he feels her little fists tighten around the fabric on his back, ignores the way she wipes her nose on his shoulder. He’s only just let her go when Liam starts wailing again and he stands to lift the baby out of his pile of blankets, squirmy and loud against his chest as he kneels back down next to his daughter.

Alice leans over to look at her brother, finger touching his damp cheek and then looking to him for help, expecting her dad to have a solution. He doesn’t. But she’d calmed him down before somehow, brought his screams to uncertain whimpers, speaking softly to him in a story only they could hear.

“Maybe he needs another story,” Killian suggests and she looks at him hopefully, cautiously excited at being able to help. “Which one did you tell him?”

“The one about the selkie and the fisherman,” she answers, putting a hand on the baby’s head and brushing the fine hair back like he and Emma do for her.

He smiles, heart giving a little lurch. “That’s a good one.” She’s thinking, brow furrowing in that way it always does when she’s concentrating, lips pressed together, holding back whatever idea is forming in her brilliant little mind. “What is it?”

“I think I know what he wants…” she ventures after hesitating, no doubt still feeling the repercussions of her last big idea.

“What’s that?” he asks, watching her take a tiny hand, Liam’s fist wrapping around her finger.

“I know he’s not a changeling.” Her tone isn’t quite defeated but there’s acceptance there, and guilt. Killian waits, knowing she’ll finish when she works up the nerve. “But…” Alice looks up from the bundle in his arms. “His mum came from the water.” He knows where she’s going before she finishes, but lets her anyway. “Maybe it’s calling to him.”

“You think he’d feel better by the sea.” It’s not a question but an understanding.

She shrugs. “You do.”

“I do,” he agrees. She’s a brilliant, insightful child - how she came from him and Eloise he’ll never know, but he thanks his lucky stars for the mistake that led to such light in his life.

He used to hate the water, the endless waves cold and dark, soulless. That is, until he pulled a selkie from its depths and it became the place where he found solace, where he searched for answers when he could find none, knowing it had saved his life once and could again.

“So does Mum,” she adds. Killian nods, faint smile pulling at his lips when she calls Emma her mother again.

“Aye, that she does.” The sea had called to his brother too. And while he’d lost him to it, he knows that adventurous spirit lives in both his children now. “Why don’t you grab your coat, starfish.”

“Really?” The excitement is clear in her eyes, the anxiety from before melting away as he accepts her explanation, acknowledges the truth in it.

“Really. Be quiet though, alright? Let’s let Mum sleep.”

She’s off down the hall faster than he can stand, already half-zipped by the time he reaches the front hall to grab his and Liam’s jackets. Practically bouncing, Alice leads them out the door as soon as they’re dressed. The baby squirms when the cool air first hits his face, turning with a fussy grumble into Killian who pulls the hat more snuggly over his little head.

He follows Alice down the path towards the shore, the little dock where they keep the dinghy frosted over with the first suggestion of proper winter. He calls for her to stay back from the shoreline, knowing that the water - not only freezing - can be unpredictable this time of year. She listens, waiting for them a few meters from the water’s edge, looking expectantly at her brother as he sees the ocean for the first time.

They just stand for a moment, staring out into the choppy waves that seem to go on forever, listening to the crash of the surf against rocks further down the cliff. It’s cold, but not uncomfortable, Alice’s hair whipping wildly around her shoulders in the winter wind, and Liam snuggled quietly against his chest. At first Killian thinks he’s fallen asleep, but when he looks down at the baby his eyes are open, cheek smushed against his collarbone and seeming to listen to the waves along with them.

“It worked,” Alice breathes, noticing just after he does.

“Aye. It seems there’s a little selkie blood in your brother after all.”

“Can I…” she hesitates, knows she made a mistake and afraid to risk reproach - or perhaps making another. “Can I hold him?” He nods, handing her Liam and watching her handle him gingerly like she was taught. “Can we go closer?” she asks. “I want him to see it and he can only see a few feet ahead of him.”

Killian smiles wondering what book she got that from, knowing he read it too. “Okay, but stay back from where the tide reaches and don’t let him wander off,” he tells her, as though he won’t be watching them both like a hawk and as though Liam can do more than lift his chest and shoulders off the ground.

Alice nods solemnly, taking her task seriously as she walks a little ways down the beach, sitting down in the sand and setting her brother down in her lap. He can tell her grip is vice-like from here, one arm slung around his torso and the other pointing things out to him that he can’t understand.

He’s not sure how long they’re out there, sun warm on his face and winds chill on his neck when he hears her footsteps behind him. “Hey,” is her groggy greeting, cold hands wrapping around his waist, lips pressed to the middle of his back.

“Hey,” he answers, hand settling over her frozen one, hoping to bring some warmth to it, the edge of the blanket draped around her shoulders held firmly in her fist.

“Did you guys make up?”

Killian nods, looking over his shoulder to try to see her face, chin resting on his shoulder now. “Aye.” He tilts his head in the direction of the children. “She found a way to get Liam to stop crying.”

He can feel her smile pressed into his neck. “Why did I know it would be her?”

Chuckling, he stretches an arm out and over until he can wrap it around her, Emma curling into his side, wrapped in her blanket. “Because she’s brilliant.”

“So the water, huh? We should have thought of that.”

“Hmm. He’s got sea water running through his veins - just like his mum.” Killian turns his head to kiss the crown of her head and she leans further into him. “What’s that?” he asks, looking down at the large bag at her feet.

“I thought maybe we could take a day trip on the boat before it’s too cold. The four of us.”

“I think Alice would love that.”

Emma hums in agreement. “And maybe,” she adds, reaching out to try and wrap the blanket around him as well. “It’ll get them both properly tuckered out and we can have a whole night with no interruptions.”

“Swan,” he teases, shifting to pull her back into his chest so he can speak against her ear. “I can’t believe you’d use the Jolly to try and get me to ravish you all night.”

He can hear her eyes roll. “I meant to sleep!”

“Sure you did,” he smirks into her neck, letting his lips and beard scrape along the sensitive skin there and feeling the shiver he knows she’ll blame on the cold. “Mad, insatiable selkie,” he breathes, feeling her smile against his cheek before she tilts her head back, letting him find her mouth with his.

*****

Let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xhookswenchx @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12 @anmylica @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727

#well... this happened.#captain swan #cs #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #she came from the water #cs smut #cs au #cs angst

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bajisbabe · 3 years ago

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[author’s note] I wrote this because I had class today, but woke up at 3AM and couldn’t go back to sleep and it occured to me that I could use Inumaki’s cursed energy for my own good. (Went to sleep at 12AM, had to get up at 7AM, so I really only got 3 hours of sleep 😐)

# SLEEP

the three times you fell asleep and the one time he made you | inumaki x reader

warnings: yandere, stalking, Inumaki using his cursed energy on the reader, reader being an atrocious sleeper (same, ngl).

synopsis: Reader falls asleep several times around Inumaki. After the first time, he develops somewhat of an interest in them and begins following them around. Only to realize that they don’t sleep very well. He then tries everything to ensure a good night’s rest for them only to dwindle down to what he thinks is his last option—his cursed speech. He thinks he’s helping, but he gets out of hand.

song: none.

photo cred (left to right): 1 2 3

You hadn’t meant to. You were simply sitting on a bench outside, conveniently situated beside Inumaki as the students of Tokyo Jujutsu High argued about the upcoming school festival. All you remember was your body becoming lethargic and your eyelids drooping. And then, he felt something heavy on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep on him.

He was quite shocked. You and him weren’t very close—in fact, you had never given him the time of day. There were no hard feelings towards each other or anything. You just never crossed paths with him before. But with the school’s festival coming up, you had to meet with him and the other second-years. The bickering about what was to be done and by who carried on for what felt like hours.

And you hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest. So, you ended up falling asleep on him. He didn’t bother waking you up, or even quieting the others—who had yet to notice that you were asleep. He just let your sleep.

By the time you woke up, the conversation was over. And everyone had been staring at you, having finally noticed how quiet you had been, your drool having seeped into the fabric of Inumaki’s uniform. You woke up panicked and flustered, getting annoyed with Megumi and Yuji for not waking you. They just shrugged you off and blamed Nobara, who hadn’t taken kindly to taking the fall for the whole ordeal. You apologized to Inumaki over and over, bowing deeply. He tried to play it off as though he didn’t care. But he came off shy in the end, shaking his hands as he mumbled, “Salmon.”

His fellow second-years never let him hear the end of it, teasing him ruthlessly about the interaction between you two.

—

Inumaki had taken a liking to you, subconsciously following you around whenever you caught his eye. It usually resulted in him being scolded for being late, considering you always seemed to be going in the opposite direction of where he needed to be.

He tried to work up the courage to talk to you, but he just couldn’t. So he opted to follow you around instead. He knew it was wrong, but he kept justifying his actions by affirming that he was only waiting for the right time to befriend you.

From all his time spent watching you, he learned something about you. You never slept—at least, not properly. You took naps. And when you attempted sleep, you ended up startling awake in the middle of the night.

Inumaki knew he should’ve minded his own business. But he couldn’t stand to watch your health gradually deteriorate from your constant lack of sleep. So he decided that he ought to do something about it.

The next time he saw you at school, he managed to pull you aside and ask to talk. He originally intended to talk with you about your visible exhaustion. But within the first couple of phrases—which you hadn’t understood anyway—you had fallen asleep yet again. This time, you were just sitting there, your chin tilted towards your chest. Eyes closed and breaths soft.

He thought that you looked rather uncomfortable like that, so he brought your head to his shoulder and let you sleep that way. It was quiet and peaceful for a while, and he felt content knowing that you were getting your much needed rest. But then, Panda and Maki came to find him, shouting and blabbering about how he should’ve shown up when they needed him. But he merely placed a single finger to his lips and shushed them, gesturing towards you who was sleeping soundly on his shoulder.

But their noise had already awoken you, your eyes fluttering open as you lifted your head, rubbing your eyes. The second-years all watched with subtle amusement, finding you rather adorable. But you were embarrassed yet again, apologizing manically before running off to do what you had to do for the day.

—

In a way, Inumaki had kind of become friends with you. He no longer had to follow you around because you seeked him out instead. You always came to talk to him during breaks or when you had free time even though you still couldn’t quite understand what he was saying half of the time.

Luckily, Maki and Panda broke down most of it for you. Even Yuji had helped you decipher Inumaki’s words once or twice. You seemed content with your friendship. But Inumaki was more worried about how he could see that you still weren’t getting good sleep.

He didn’t need to follow you home and peer into your window to know that much. Not that he did that anymore. He felt it was a serious invasion of privacy now thar he could no longer use his previous excuse since he had befriended you.

Nonetheless, he tried time and time again to talk you into falling asleep like he had done before. But now that you knew some of what he was saying, you found it far too interesting to fall asleep to. So he had no choice but to talk about what he had learned in class during his first year, that had put you right to sleep.

It wasn’t that the basics of jujustu were boring or anything, but you had already had them drilled into your head over and over. You couldn’t help but fall asleep when he began to talk about the basics. Even though you could only understand bits and pieces, it still put you to sleep with ease. And Inumaki let you rest again, your head on his shoulder.

Anyone passing by caught the memo and just left you two be. Even the loudmouthed Gojo had nothing to say when he saw you both, other than a murmur about how he thought you looked rather tired but didn’t want to say anything because he had been told that he could come off “a little rude sometimes.”

—

Honestly, Inumaki was growing frustrated. Even if he could get you to sleep, you wouldn’t for long. And you somehow started to look even more tired than you had before you went to sleep.

You had gathered in the general area of the school, the staff and students alike mulling around as they discussed what would be happening for the day. You were sat beside Inumaki on a bench, staring down at your shoes as you tried your best to stay awake while Gojo blabbered on and on.

By this point, everyone had noticed your lack of sleep.

Even the staff was beginning to worry about you. And Megumi, who usually kept his mouth shut, surprisingly had something to say. “You look like you could use some sleep.” It was an offhanded comment, just something he said in passing.

But it drew immediate attention to you. Yuji, who had been rather clueless about your exhaustion, took a good look at you before agreeing. Nobara too. And Maki and Panda muttered something in agreement.

You suddenly felt insecure, pulling and tugging at the skin of your face, wondering if you really looked as bad as they were implying. They seemed to notice the shift in mood, so they all went about their own ways. Leaving you and Inumaki by yourselves.

You almost got up to leave, ready to get the day started despite your desperate need for sleep. But Inumaki grabbed you by the wrist, glancing up at you from where he sat on the bench. The same bench that you fell asleep on for the first time the day that you two met.

You looked at him momentarily, eyebrows raising as you stifled a yawn. Your eyes watering and lips pursing because of it. He could tell that you were exhausted. Just looking at you gave it away.

And he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t tired of trying to help you. Chasing you around and coming up with boring stories to tell, hoping you would fall asleep long enough to be able to continue functioning for the day. He was tired of playing this game with you. He just wanted you to be well rested, that’s all.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he cared so much. He just did. And he knew that there was still one option left that he had yet to try. He wanted to refrain from using it. But surely, he could make an exception for you, right?

It was either he continued to follow you around, talk your ear off, and lull you to sleep. Or he could—

His hand reached for the zipper covering his mouth. You watched with wide eyes as he tugged it down. You had heard rumors and whispers of what he could do, and for some reason, you felt as though you didn’t want to stick around and see him in action. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

You caught sight of the pattern on his tongue as he opened his mouth and spoke, “Sleep.”

Your knees buckled instantaneously. You vaguely hoped that a teacher had stayed around; that they had witnessed Inumaki use his cursed energy against you. But when your eyes were fluttering closed and no one was heard or seen coming to your rescue, you began to doubt it. You tried to fight it; tried to force your eyes open. But you just couldn’t. You briefly panicked, feeling him pulling you up to sit on the bench again. Your head lolling over and onto his shoulder. You wanted to scream, to run, to do something. But your body wouldn’t listen to you.

But in all honesty, even if you could move your body, you most likely wouldn’t have. After all, it felt good to finally succumb to sleep. His hands patted your hair and he watched you finally get the rest you needed.

#inumaki imagines #inumaki headcanons #inumaki x reader #inumaki hcs #inumaki x you #inumaki drabbles #cw yandere #cw stalking #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen headcannons #yandere inumaki #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #yandere toge inumaki

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songmingisthighs · 4 years ago

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[9.55] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ good thing you're smart, if not Wooyoung wouldn't have a whole attitude change

⇁ tw : violence, torture, kindapping, mafia life

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

You don't remember how long it has been since they captured you. Being stuck in a basement would do that apparently.

Whoever was behind your capture had been torturing you beyond your own imagination. They had starved you, hit you, kicked you, attempted to drown you, tied you in an uncomfortable position every night, and sent in someone to make sure you don't get an ounce of sleep.

All that just to get information on Wooyoung.

Currently, you're being tied to a chair, being once again interrogated for informations you had no clue about, "things would be much easier if you'd just give us what we want," the buff man in front of you said, he held a knife to your cheek but at this point you couldn't even flinch, "where is Jung Wooyoung's headquarters?"

Your cold outfit was clinging onto you like second skin, it's uncomfortable and it's dirty, the cold had definitely impacted your health.

Recently all you've been able to feel is just the headache and the burn from inside your body. Not even the abuse given to you was able to inflict you pain.

Everything's just numb.

You look up at the man, almost with a challenging look as you press your face daringly to the blade, "I. Don't. Know." you spat each word like venom.

The man laughed, pretty amused at how daring you are being, "you're his wife, there is no way you wouldn't have known," you rolled your eyes at him, bitter that he used the word 'wife' because you know fully well that Wooyoung would never treat you as such, "then I must've not been his wife now, am I?" You retorted back at him, slightly shocking him because this is the first time within the (apparently) 7 days you've been captured that you had said something else other than 'I don't know' or 'fuck you'.

Everyone was startled at the revelation, they probably hadn't concidered that you might not be Wooyoung's wife. No one really know about Wooyoung's personal life, it seems.

Seeing their hesitance, you take this as your chance of escaping.

The buff man grab your hair harshly, his eyes narrowing at you in suspicion, "don't lie to me, whore, if you're not his wife, then why'd you have a wedding ring on?" "Stole it from my mistress before I ran away, needed the money," you lied easily, surprising yourself.

"And why are you wearing it?" He asked again, "to make it less inconspicuous, people need to believe that this belongs to me or else they'll alert the cops that I'm a thief,"

He seemed to be having an inner turmoil on whether or not he should believe you.

With how you've been acting and the lack of evidence that you are Wooyoung's wife, you could really have been the wrong target.

"That means Handong lied to us," he said as he push your head away, talking to one of the men next to him, "bring him in and get this bitch out," he said simply before turning back to leave.

But before he walked out of the room, he looked back once more at you with a bitter smirk, "make sure to... deal... with her first, insurance for your silence,"

When the doors closed, 5 men approach your figure, still tied on the chair.

One of them crouch down in front of you, he brush your hair out of your face with a sad smile, "I'm sorry that we have to do this, pretty girl," confused at what he said, you just stared at him. But then he suddenly slap you so hard that you fell down along with the chair you're tied to.

And thus began one of the longest night of your life.

Meanwhile Wooyoung was getting antsy. His men couldn't find you anywhere and there isn't a second when he didn't regret turning his abundance of cctv off

He spent his days either in meetings or trying to track your whereabouts. San had to step in and actually force him to eat, going as far as cuffing him to his chair and spoon-fed him, even throwing a cheesy "would (Y/N) be happy to see you in this state?" At him to which he replied, "considering how I treat her, I wouldn't be surprised if she is,"

So far, neither yours nor his parents were aware of your disappearance. His dad only asked about you once to ensure he still has leverage, which of course Wooyoung lied, he's already stressed over your disappearance the last thing he need is for his dad to bit his head off.

Each night he spent sleeping in his bedroom, moping to the fact that he genuinely misses and worried about you. He regret taking you for granted, taking your presence for granted. Now, he could only imagine your sleeping form next to him using the memories of when he actually slept in bed with you. He used to be able to feel your warmth next to him, now it's just cold and he dislike it.

Tonight was no different. Before he got into bed, he went to the walk-in closet and look at all the dresses he had brought you to events that you went to (re : events he was forced brought you because his parents would be there). He remembered every how you looked in every single one of them.

It's pathetic of him, to be pining over the woman he claimed to have no care about.

Just as he turned the walk-in closet's lights off, there were commotions from downstairs, then a huge bang like his front doors had been barged open.

Diving into his instincts, Wooyoung grabbed the nearest gun he had hid all around the room and ran out, thinking that it was a raid by his rivals.

But when he looked down from the second floor to the living room, his heart wrenched and he froze.

San had you in his arms, you looked sickly pale with bruises all over your exposed arms and legs, clothes had chunks of them torn, and you weren't moving. One would assume that you're dead.

Wooyoung dropped his gun and ran to his friend who had just put you on the couch.

The sight of you looking so broken panicked him. He wanted to hold you and be glad that you're home, but he doesn't wanna hurt you. He wanted to tell you how sorry he is and that he'll make up to you but he's not sure whether or not you're still alive.

He snapped his head towards his staff, "call the doctor! Call Kang Yeosang in!" He barked to which his staffs immediately obeyed, scrambling to do as he ordered.

"God, baby, who did this to you?" He muttered to himself, reaching forward to brush your hair out of your face.

You stirred a bit when you heard his voice ans managed to open your eyes despite the splitting headache and the soreness all over your body.

When your eyes met his, you smiled, "hey, what are you doing in my dreams?" You croaked out, throat obviously sore and beyond parched from having been denied fluids for so long. It was your turn to brush his bangs from his eyes, something you've always wanted to do but know never could considering his dislike that turned out to be hatred towards you.

You suddenly frown at him, making his gaze on you softer, "I'm sorry," you muttered, not able to speak louder. At that, he tilted his head, "for what?" "Not being able to stay gone, I had to had the will to live, I should've let them kill me," you said before you slip into unconsciousness, rendering Wooyoung speechless at your words.

Before he was able to retaliate, San had swoop you back into his arms to take you to an empty room so Yeosang could come in and treat you.

"No," Wooyoung called, stopping San in his tracks, "bring her to my- our room, she should feel comfortable," to which San just nodded and obey, knowing how important it is to have you next to him as much as him next to you.

Yeosang came in not long after and spent 3 hours cleaning and stitching your wounds, checking for possible internal injuries, all the while making sure he's handling you with the utmost care as Wooyoung had been glaring daggers at him. Whether it serve to be a warning to not harm you or a sign of jealousy as Yeosang had a perfectly valid reason to cut your shirt and shorts off for handling.

"I can't make a clear diagnosis without checking for internal injuries, we have to take her to the hospital," Yeosang said. But Wooyoung just snap at him, "then freaking bring the machines here! She's not leaving this mansion and she's not leaving my side!"

Both men just stared at each other for a few minutes, Yeosang holding onto his ground on wanting simplicity, and Wooyoung being afraid of losing you from his sight again.

Knowing how stubborn his friend can be, Yeosang was first to crack, sighing and nodding at Wooyoung, "I'll see what I can do," he said simply before going out to talk to San about possibly transporting some of his machines.

The rest of the night, Wooyoung took care of you. He had put you in one of his large, white button up because it's the easiest to put on you. He stayed by your side in a chair, afraid that he might hurt you (than he already necessary does with his words) if he were to slip in bed with you.

As he watch you, his hands moved to held yours in his. His thumbs were rubbing the back of your hand when it suddenly caught on something.

Looking down, he noticed that it's your wedding ring, matching his own which he's wearing.

It brought a smile to his face seeing you're still holding onto it so dearly. You could've left it for him to find and throw away the day you left, but you had decided to take it with you.

Could it be that despite everything he's done to you, you don't want to completely erase him from your mind?

And that's what made Wooyoung broke down and cried.

He didn't deserve you, not one bit. But despite that, he knows that he's the only one capable enough of taking care of you, to provide for whatever it is that you need.

So at that moment, with you back in hia arms, he decided to step up and assume his responsibilities and treat you as how you deserve to be treated.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #timestamp #ateez timestamp #au #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #smt timestamp

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eternally-writing · 4 years ago

Text

helping hands | jjk

genre: fluff and angst

rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: parent!au, idol!au, husband!au, one-shot

word count: 3k

warnings: none

synopsis: Parenting in general? Hard. Parenting while your husband Jungkook is away on tour? Extra hard.

special thank you to @justasparkwritings for beta reading this and @moccahobi for helping me with the title!

banner by me!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

It had been 2 weeks since Jungkook had left on tour. You would think that after being in the industry for 10 years he would have a little more leniency with his schedule, but even after the birth of your little girl, Jungkook couldn’t seem to get out of a 3 week tour around Japan and Korea.

It seemed like the Earth was weeping with you today as the rain battered against your window while you made what seemed like your 15th cup of coffee for the day. Your daughter Gidae was for once not crying - and you were eternally grateful since it gave you time to change out of your puke-covered shirt and close your eyes for 5 seconds... as if that was any replacement for the lack of sleep you’ve encountered.

All your friends whose husbands were busy idols or businessmen gave you the advice that “everything falls into place over time when you’re parenting on your own”. That it just magically happened. You’re not sure what memo you missed, or if there’s some book you forgot to read, or if worst of all, you lacked some parental intuition that everyone else possessed. Jungkook had left 13 days ago, and nothing had fallen into place.

Between Gidae being up all night every night, the pile of puke covered laundry sitting in a pile in the corner of your room, the dirty dishes in the sink that had accumulated to the point that you were eating your microwave meals with plastic cutlery, you definitely felt like a failure.

And probably the worst part of it all was that Jungkook wasn’t here to help you. This wasn’t the first time Jungkook left on tour while you two have been together, but it was the first time he had left you since Gidae had been born. The first time he had left you, a first time mother, alone with your child for an extended period of time. The first time you needed help and couldn’t ask him for it.

As if on command, while you were bracing yourself on the counter in exhaustion, your phone began to ring.

Incoming call: hubby kook ♡

As you pressed “accept call”, you could immediately heard the hustle and bustle of the backstage crowd. Too tired to be the first to say hello, you waited to see how long it would take for him to realize you were on the other line.

“Hey Y/N, just checking in before the show! How are things?” cheered Jungkook.

You could imagine what Jungkook looked like as he talked to you: already dressed in his first stage outfit, a makeup artist blotting away at the nervous sweat on his forehead, him grinning ear to ear with his hyungs and bursting with excitement for performing.

On a normal day, if you had maybe actually gotten some sleep or eaten at least one meal that didn’t come out of your freezer in the past week, you probably could have mustered a convincing “good! How’s the show going?” But you were on your last straw, and it was already giving way.

“Bad Jungkook. It’s bad. I haven’t slept at all for as long as I can remember. I have no clean clothes or clean dishes, I haven’t showered since you left so I smell like a pungent mixture of puke, sweat, and god knows what else, and Gidae misses you and won’t stop crying.So yes, it’s horrible without you here.”

You knew that wasn’t what Jungkook expected to hear,the sharp intake of breath on his side serving as a telltale sign you had caught him off guard.

“Baby I-, I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

You couldn’t stop your voice from cracking as you continued. Your chest was tightening, feelings bubbling over.

“It’s -“ you paused to take a breath. “It’s really hard without you Jungkook. Really really hard.”

Jungkook tried his best to piece together the words over the phone, but you could already hear the speakers in the background calling for Jungkook to head to his position for the start of the show.

“Y/N I-“

“You have to go Jungkook, I know. Bye.”

You didn’t give him a second to recuperate as you ended the call.

No parenting book ever provided you with advice on this. The loneliness, helplessness, and frustration you were feeling right now. Crumpling down to the kitchen floor, you felt like the world was collapsing around you as you sobbed.

As if on cue, Gidae’s cries joined yours from the other room.

--♡--

You woke up slouched in a rocking chair in the nursery, with your hand reaching down to touch your daughter’s in her crib. She seemed to show you some leniency by sleeping more than 2 hours at a time, but unsure of how much free time she’d give you, you figured you might as well get a head start of the day since you felt like you were miserably falling behind already.

While mixing some formula in your kitchen, you heard a knock on your front door. The only people who ever came over were the boys and a couple of your friends, and you definitely weren’t expecting any visitors at 8am.

Frying pan clutched in your hand (safety first, right?), you creaked open your door to see a small woman standing in front of you.

With a cheery smile painting her face, the lady began to speak.

“Mrs. Jeon, I’m Seokjin-ssi’s nanny. I’ve been sent here today to take care of Gidae. Here’s a note from Mr. Jeon.”

You couldn’t help the smile that decorated your face after reading it. After so many years together, Jungkook still managed to surprise you. Taking in that there was now a woman in your house who was basically Supernanny here to help you, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

When Jungkook said that you were going to be pampered today, he sure meant it. By a “car” being outside, he actually meant a glorious Porsche with a driver and all your favorite snacks tucked in the backseat. He had booked an entire spa day just for you to get whatever treatments you needed without having to deal with the hustle and bustle of anyone else being around. Simply being in an environment that didn’t always sound like crying and children’s TV shows felt like heaven. A schedule had been waiting when you arrived, including a built in “nap” (multiple hours is just sleep, right?) in one of their private suits and lunch with none other than your best friend. It was the best surprise, and the girl talk you shared was exactly what you needed. Of course the mom guilt crept in, but whenever it did you reminded yourself of Jungkook’s words - you needed this, and only once you take care of yourself will you really be able to take care of your daughter.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the hydrating face mask or the 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep that you were able to get, but you walked into your house with a new pep in your step thanks to the relaxing day that Jungkook planned for you.

Welcomed by Ms. Yeong wearing an apron and bustling around your kitchen, you smelled freshly baked cookies (chocolate chip, your favorite too) and were thrilled at the sight of a clean house in front of you.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she began to speak with that signature smile.

“I’ve cooked dinner for you tonight and also have meals for the next 3 days in the fridge. The dishes are all done and your laundry should all be folded in your drawers. Gidae just had some milk and is now watching some Cocomelon.She woke up from her nap around 3 hours ago.”

In your excitement you couldn’t help giving her the biggest hug, squeezing her tightly. Slowly, Ms.Yeong began to pat your back, unclear about whether this hug was really for you or for her.

“I’m just doing my job Mrs. Jeon.”

You pulled away to look sincerely into her eyes.

“You are seriously a lifesaver Ms.Yeong, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

After patting your back again, it was her turn to be sincere.

“You’re a good mother, Mrs. Jeon. I know it may not feel like it sometimes, but you really are. Gidae is lucky to have you as a mom.”

Tears began to prick at your eyes, but unlike yesterday, these were happy tears. With all the failures that you had felt in the past two weeks, it meant everything to hear those words from someone, to get some confirmation that you weren’t completely messing things up.

Unable to make any words come out of your mouth, all you could do was nod in appreciation at what she was able to do for you today. Your eyes glimmering with unshed tears said all the words that Ms.Yeong needed to hear.

As she walked out the door, you made a mental note to message Seokjin and thank him for finding the angel on Earth who saved you today.

--♡--

Picking up your daughter from her crib, you cooed and brought her to you. Settling into your rocking chair, you cradled her gently in her arms.

“Mommy missed you today, babygirl, and I know you miss daddy.”

At the mention of the word “daddy” you could see your daughter perk up, looking around and trying to find said male.

All you could do is kiss her forehead. “I miss your daddy too. He’s really amazing, yknow.”

“Amazing, really? I may have said handsome, or sexy, or...”

Your head whipped around to the source of the sound.

And there he was, in the flesh. Jeon Jungkook, the man you had been waiting to see for days on end, was standing right at the door.

“Hi my love,” he said with his silly grin.

Your heart felt like it was bursting as you saw him there, and you couldn’t help but start sobbing your heart out (and I mean ugly sobbing). You felt a waterfall of emotions seeing Jungkook so close.

“Hey hey hey, what’s with this crying? I came home because I didn’t want you to be crying anymore baby.”

Walking over to you, he crouched in front of your chair and started to wipe your tears. Cupping your face in his hands, he pressed his forehead against you.

“I missed you Y/N. I missed you so much.”

You were still reeling from Jungkook’s presence.

“You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed about this Kook. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Jungkook pressed a short kiss on your lips.

“Well believe it, I’m here for real babe,” he said sentimentally as he peppered your face with kisses.

Picking your daughter out of your grasp, Jungkook lifted Gidae into his hold, lifting her slightly into the air first to make her giggle. Putting on his best stern dad voice, he began his lecture.

“And you little miss, what is this I hear about you causing trouble for your mom?” Questioned Jungkook.

You smiled through your tears as you watched Jungkook go into “dad mode”.

“Before I left you promised you’d be a good girl, but I think good girls don’t cry all through the night and they definitely don’t make a mess with their toys or throw up all over their mommy.”

As Jungkook raised an eyebrow, your daughter looked at him, slightly apologetic, eyes shifting down to the floor, as if she could understand a word of what he said.

“But most of all Gidae, I missed you a whole lot. Your daddy missed you a whole lot.”

You felt like your heart could burst at the way Jungkook looked at your daughter. Even though he might be miles away when he works, you know that he doesn’t love you or your daughter any less.

“I’ll let you put her back to bed, daddy. It is my day off after all, right?” You joked with a chuckle.

Picking up your hand and kissing your palm, Jungkook grinned in agreement.

“Of course my love, go wash up and I’ll see you in bed.”

--♡--

After reading A Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Princess & the Pea, and Rainbow Fish, Gidae was beginning to yawn in Jungkook’s arms. It seemed that it wasn’t just Jungkook who was reluctant to let their father-daughter time come to an end, as Gidae was still fighting to keep her eyes open, and always kept one tiny fist clutched onto the middle of Jungkook’s shirt, as if she was worried he could disappear at any moment.

Wondering what was taking them so long, you peeked your head back in the doorway to watch Jungkook look at your daughter like she was the one who put the stars in the sky. Not wanting to interrupt, you stayed as silent as possible as you watched them together.

“Now I’m gonna say something very important Gidae, and you need to listen very very carefully to me.”

Bringing her up to eye level, Jungkook looked at your daughter sincerely as he continued.

“Sometimes daddy isn’t here and it’s just you and mommy, but I want you to know that daddy loves you and mommy so much, and you’re always gonna be daddy’s little girl, even if I’m not here with you. And I miss you always, so so much. Daddy loves you.”

You could see the tears start to stream down Jungkook’s face, and as much as you wanted to run to him and wipe his tears, just as he did hours earlier, you knew that this moment wasn’t for you. This was for Jungkook and Gidae, and you were sure that he was going to remember this forever.

“You know what would make me so happy Gidae? If you could say the word daddy. Come on - “da” “da”. You can do it!”

He started to bounce her on his lap, exaggerating his mouth movements so much that you were worried that he would accidentally pop his jaw out. His ministrations continued on fruitlessly, with Gidae still staring at him with big doe eyes (a trait she inherited from Jungkook, of course).

Unable to hide your presence any longer, you had to help Jungkook out. “You were only gone for 2 weeks, Kook. She’s still only 6 months old, it’s going to be a little while before she says any words.”

Jungkook shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that Gidae had finally succumbed to sleep in his arms, and he stared down at her again.

“Look at how big she is Y/N, she’s grown so much just in the little while I’ve been gone.”

He looked at you with tears shimmering in his doe eyes yet again.

“Seriously, next time I leave on a tour and come back she’s going to be walking and talking or something.” joked Jungkook as he lightly wiped his tears.

You hugged Jungkook from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before resting your head on it.

“Wherever you are though babe, I’m gonna take photos and videos of all of it so you won’t miss a second of it.”

Jungkook stayed silent as he simply enjoyed having his small family together again.

“You were right earlier you know, on the phone.”

“Hmm?” You hummed in response, unsure of what he was getting at.

“This isn’t working - me leaving isn’t working. I’m not 15 years old anymore, when I could just drop everything and travel the world; I have the two most precious girls in the world with me now, and I need to take care of them.”

Putting his hand in yours, you sincerely looked him in the eye.

“We’re always going to be proud of you Koo, and you know I love watching you do what you love. This may be the hard part, once she gets a little older we could start travelling with you or you could fly back too. Whatever comes our way, we’ll handle it together.”

Jungkook kissed you passionately, hoping his lips could convey what he couldn’t seem to put into words. He repeated your words back to you.

“Whatever comes our way, we’ll handle it together.”

As if Mother Nature was on your side, the rain stopped, leaving the smell of new beginnings wafting in through your window.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

If you liked what you read please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡ - Emily

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