#AT LEAST STEAL THE WHOLE CAR I HAVE INSURANCE

[mooooonnnzz]

World/Insured Part 3

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ hope you guys r liking it so far!! :p

☆ 4,4k words

✶ “Can we talk about [Name]?” Ford suddenly brings up one day. The waves of tourists have been moderately slow for the day, allowing Stan and Ford to kick back and relax for once. And in the midst of sitting down on the couch, his mind dwelled over to the thought of you. Stan let out a long sigh as he sat down, pitt cola in hand. Stan was trying to break free from his alcohol addiction, Ford noted. “Sure, what do you want to talk about?” The causality held in Stan’s words made Ford uneasy. He was so unnaturally calm with his words, at least the last time he brought you up, he can sense the agitation in his words, but he couldn’t find any dripping anger from him now. Mustering up all the courage he had left, he asked; “How were they?” He felt his mouth run dry. Out of everything he could’ve asked, he asked that? All the questions he had were out the window and off into the woods, leaving him scrambling for words. Taking a sip from his soda, he said, “Do you want to know how they felt immediately after they left with me?” Ford nods. “Well, being fifteen and a rage of hormones, they pretty much hated you.” Stan’s eyes glance over to Ford whose face could visibly read hurt. “I’m just kidding!” Stan cackled, shoving Ford. “They were ripped apart. I remember they told me how they felt everything and nothing at the same time, real poetic than one.” He takes another sip. “They missed you so much while I hated your guts. I couldn’t think of you without seeing red and they couldn’t think of you without crying.” He swirled the drink in the can, looking down to his shuffling feet. “What did you guys do to survive?” 

✶ “I enrolled them into a high school. I didn’t want them to be stupid like me, ya know? And while they were in highschool, I started my business which earned us money to get by.” Stan told him. “Would you even call what you did a business?” Ford said with his eyebrow raised. “Hey!” Stan rolled his eyes, placing the can of soda down on the floor. “Once we got banned from a few states, [Name] put their foot down and encouraged me to get a job. And guess what, I landed a pretty good job! My history of stealing peoples money was long gone, until now,” Stan quietly said the last part. “And we were living pretty comfortably. I got us a nice house, a good car and [Name] graduated highschool and they got a job as manager of some sort, can’t really remember.” Stan scratched his chin idly. “They were on their way to move out and take their business elsewhere when you decided to show your face.” Stan cleared his throat, looking at Ford. “They talked about you a lot.” He softly added. “I saw how they lit up when they saw me for the first time. They looked so much older.” Ford said. “I mean, yeah, that’s what happens when you miss, like, 10 years of their life.” Ford ignored Stan’s comments and mulled over his thoughts. After a moment, he spoke up. “Thank you for talking about them, Stan.” Stan shot him a smile. “Of course, talking about them wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Since then, Stan would share stories of you whenever Ford asked, ranging from embarrassing ones, to one’s where it was a little harder for Stan to tell. But in the end, it brought them closer together and kept the memory of you alive. 

✶ Much to Ford’s dismay, the whole shack was rearranged to be a tourist trap. By day, they were busy ripping people of their money and by night, they buried themselves in their work, fixing what they could while simultaneously searching for the second book. And before they knew it, they were in their late 50’s. Adjusting his fez, he smiles at himself through the mirror. “Stan!” Ford bursts through his room, starling Stan. “Geez, Ford! A little warning next time?” Ford stammers over to him. “No time for that!” He huffs out. “The book! I-I can’t find it!” Stan’s face falls. “What?! What happened to it?” Ford opened his mouth to answer when Soos yelled out; “Mr. Pines!” Stan curses to himself, that must be the kids. “Do you have any idea where it could be?” Stan asks. Out of all the days something could’ve gone wrong, why today? “I think maybe the gnomes took it?” Stan was ready to scream again when Soos called for them again. “I want you to go and look for the book.” Stan insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not coming with you to get Dipper and Mabel?” Ford gasped out, his hand slapping on his chest. “No! Because you lost the book!” Stan pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I lost the book? It was probably a gnome who took it!” Ford defended. “How are you so sure that a gnome even took it?” Ford scratched the back of his neck nervously. “They may or may not have knocked me out just a few moments ago.” Stan was so ready to deck him in the face when Soos came into the room. “Mr. Pines!” He pointed outside. “The kids are here!” “We know that, Soos.” The twins spat out. “But there’s this wolf mailman dude, and I really don’t trust him and he’s probably like eating the kids right now at the bus stop!” Soos rambled out. While Stan carried an unimpressed face, Ford’s face twisted to one of horror. “We need to pick them up now!” Unfortunately for Stan, both Soos and Ford have a rising suspicion that the mailman is a wolf in a human disguise. But the man was just hairy! Ford pulled Stan along and got inside his car. Starting up the car, Stan let out an exhausted sigh. “How did puny little gnomes knock you out?” He asked, backing out of his parking spot and onto the road. “I was busy reading when they knocked me out cold! I don’t think they intended to steal the journal, when I was waking back up they realized and grabbed the nearest object possible and ran out of there.” Stan sighed, tapping his finger on the wheel. “I really can’t believe you sometimes.” He mutters. “It wasn’t my fault, Stanley!” 

✶ Coming to a complete stop, Ford rolled down the windows, a large smile on his face when his eyes landed on his favorite great nieces. “Grunkle Ford!” They cheer, equally large smiles on their faces. “Hey, hey!” Stan watched as they stumbled into the car with their bulky backpacks skidding against the roof. “Where’s my love?” Stan exclaimed. “Right here, Grunkle Stan.” Mable giggled, wrapping her arms around Stan’s neck and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “That’s more like it,” Stan grinned, gingerly patting her back. “Now where’s the sweaty one? I’m missing one!” Dipper sighed, a playful roll to his eyes. “I’m right here,” Mable pulled away from Stan and swiftly latched herself to Ford. “C’mon, give your old grunkle some sugar.” Dipper cringed. “Don’t ever say that again, Grunke Stan.” He said, hugging Stan. “I say what I want, kid! We live in a free country for a reason.” The drive home was full of conversation, the twins telling their grunkle’s stories from school and their home life. Stan and Ford made the conscious effort to comment and react to everything they said, if not Mable would make sure they did by repeating what they said over and over again. When the Mystery Shack came into view, they both shoved their face against the window, marveling at the shack. “Is this what Grunkle Stan is always talking about when we call him?” Mable’s hot breath fogged up the window. “Yup. And now you guys get to see it.” Ford gestured to the shack, smiling proudly. He had soon come to love the shack he and Stan worked on, he will never admit that out loud though. Parking in his usual spot, he turns to the kids. “Get yourself settled in, alright?” They wasted no time jumping out of the car and scampering off into the shack. “And don’t touch anything!” A jar crashing onto the floor was heard in the distance. “They don’t listen, do they?” Stan shook his head. “Alright, poindexter, what are we going to do about the book?” He started, looking at Ford who pulled at his turtle neck anxiously. “We have to wait till tonight to look for it.” Tonight came and they were too wrapped up with the twins that they couldn’t go out and search for the third book. Their schedules became so busy that a week had passed and they still were waiting to find an empty slot in their schedules to find the book but it never came.

✶ “Grunkles! Grunkles!” Mable came running at them at full speed. “Woah there, kiddo!” Ford swooped Mable up from the floor. “You almost bumped into me.” He laughed, putting her back down on the ground. “That was the plan.” She giggled. “But I have something to ask!” She shoved her hand inside the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a photo, a very specific photo that Stan had kept in his room. She pointed at the person in the middle. “Who is this?” She asks. “Mable!” Dipper rushed to the living room. Bending over, he hoisted himself up by propping his arms on his knees. He wheezed out, his eyes locking onto the tense scene in front of him. “Did she already ask about the photo?” Silence was his response. Breaking out of his trance, Stan swiped the photo out of Mable’s hands. “Where did you find this?” Stan’s eyes flickered between the photo and Mable. “In your room.” A flash of emotions went through Stan’s face. Why was Mable in his room? Why did she pick this photo out of all the things in his room? He spiraled. He wasn’t expecting to speak of you to someone who had no idea of your existence. Stan’s heart crumpled into a pathetic ball. The twins had never met you. Ford took notice of Stan’s unnaturally quiet nature.  “Kids, why don’t you go to your rooms?” Ford said, kneeling down to their height. “But why?” Mable whined, pouting. “Because we need to decide if we are ready to tell you, okay?” Ford gave a knowing look to Dipper who understood that this wasn’t an easy topic. Dipper told something to Mable and with a worried look, she dejectedly followed him up to their room. “Stan?” He looks over to Stan who was shakily pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “I thought you quit, Stanley?” Ford watched sadly as he walked inside the kitchen and searched for a lighter, when he did he pocketed it and walked back out. “It’s either I drink or I smoke.” Stan said, heading towards the porch. Ford followed after him, shutting the door behind him. “You want one?” Stan offered the pack and he debated for a moment before denying his request. Stan brought the cigar to his lips. He cupped his hand around the cigar as he lit it up with his lighter. Taking a deep drag of the smoke, he allowed himself to relax, welcoming the familiar feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. “We don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.” Ford spoke, watching the puff of gray smog lighty cover his vision momentarily. “I don’t think we have a choice here.” Stan takes another long drag from the cigarette. “We can tell them we’re not ready yet.” Ford reasons. “I think it’s time they should know about [Name].” Stan stares at the late afternoon sky. “It was just all so sudden and I didn’t know how to react. It all went downhill from there.” Stan twiddled his cigarette between his fingers. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Stanley. I know how you feel.” A comfortable silence blanketed the both of them warmly. “Do you ever wonder what [Name] would think about the twins?” Ford breaks the silence, glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye. Stan wistfully smiled, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor. “[Name] would have loved the twins.” 

✶ Stan looked between the twins. “So, whaddya wanna know?” He asks. “Who are they!” Mable shouted. “They are our younger sibling.” Ford said. Mable’s face exploded into shock. “We have a secret Great Aunt/Grunkle?” Mable couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Where are they?” Dipper questioned. “They’re somewhere,” Stan said with a strained voice. “Where is somewhere?” Mable cocked her head to the side. “They’re out exploring the world.” Ford horribly lied. Mable frowned. “You can tell us if they’re dead, Grunkles. You don’t have to hide it from us.” Stan took a harsh deep breath in. “They aren’t dead, pumpkin. We just have no idea where they’re at.” Mable nodded her head in understanding. “Did you guys fall out?” Dipper asked with a tiny frown. “Yeah. A terrible fight broke out and they left.” Ford gazed at the photo of the three of them when they were young, clueless of the world and just happy to be surrounded by one another. “I’m so sorry.” Mable’s excitement was no longer there and was replaced by sadness for her poor Grunkle’s. “It’s okay, dear. No need to apologize.” Ford assured Mable with a smile. “[Name] is a wonderful person,” This was the first time Stan had talked about you in a present tense and he couldn’t tell if he liked that or not. “I hope one day you get to meet them.”

✶ Unbeknownst to the two older twins, Dipper had found journal three when Stan instructed him to go out and put out signs in the woods. But they didn’t find out that Dipper had it until he had shown the book to Ford and Stan after the events that had followed them the past few days. “Gideon nearly destroyed the whole town trying to find it!” Dipper said. Stan pretended to feign interest as he skimmed through the pages. “I don’t know what it means, or who wrote it, but after all we’ve been through,” He looks at Mable and smiles, directing attention to his Grunkle’s who were trying their hardest to hide their actual feelings. “Maybe you guys should finally know about it too.” He grinned. “I’m glad you showed us this, Dipper.” Stan shut the book closed. “Uhm, Grunkle Stan. Why does Grunkle Ford look like he’s about to crap himself?” Mable looked concerned for her Grunkle. Everyone turned their attention to Ford who weakly smiled at them. “Excuse him. He’s still shaken–” Ford yanked Stan by the sleeve and pulled him out of the twins room. “We need to go to the lab now!” Ford whispered. “I know that, Stanford! But at least let us pretend we don’t give a ratsass for this book!” He whispered back. “We’ll be back!” Ford awkwardly excused him and Stan. The twins heard their Grunkle speedily walk down the stairs. “Do you think I’m ever going to get that book back?” Mable shrugged. 

✶ Placing the books right next to each other, Ford flipped to the pages containing the blueprints. He connected the books together, showing the full plan of the portal. Stan read the instructions and swung over to the controls, he flipped the exact switches that were told to be switched. The lights around the portal flickered on. “Oh my god!” Ford laughed out in surprise. “Is this actually going to work?” Stan and Ford rush over to the portal. Their hearts thrumming against their chest. Together, they pulled the lever. With a click, it moved to the other side and the portal hummed. Zaps of electricity emitted from the portal as it powered back on. A rush of wind blew by Stan and Ford as the portal swirled to life. Ford shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t believe we did it, huh?” Stan says with a smile. “I thought we were never going to get this portal turned on.” Stan claps his back. “Well, believe it!” 

✶ Ford was so sure they weren’t going to get caught. He was so absolutely sure. The plan he made to steal the nuclear waste was perfect, there was no room for error. But it seemed like the universe had other plans. He never imagined himself getting pinned to a cop car with cuffs around his wrists. This was more of a Stanley thing, and yet here he is, getting arrested. “This is all just a big misunderstanding!” Ford cried out, his cheek squished against the hood of the cop car. “Guys, can’t I give you some money?” Stan approached them with his hands in his pockets. They all watched him nervously, guns aimed and men ready to tackle him down. “Grunkle Stan, maybe you shouldn’t!” Mable grabs Stan’s hand and pulls him back. “You guys got the wrong guy, my brother is innocent!” Stan argues. “Oh, we’ve been watching your family all summer and we have seen some pretty disturbing things. Whoever you think your brother is, he is not what he seems.” They shove Ford into a car. “Guys!” Ford calls, the door slamming shut on him. Stan watches as they drive off with Ford, his head spinning. “As for you guys, we were removing you off the property.” The guy with a mustache said, directing them to another cop car that was beside them. “No, you can’t!” Stan felt helpless. He just wants you back, why is this so difficult? The chaos spiraled into madness and suddenly, Stan was in the lab, begging the kids to not turn off the portal. “This’ll end the world, Grunkle Stan. Why can’t you see that?” Dipper had his hands hovering dangerously close to the button. “Just listen to me, kid. It’ll make sense later, just don’t press the button.” He walked towards them but was soon taken off his feet. “Brace yourselves!” They all rise up, twirling and thrashing around the room. “T-Minus, thirty five seconds.” The robotic voice said. Dipper had grabbed onto a beam and told Mable to reach for the button. Using the cable wrapped on her foot, she inched herself close to the button. “Mable, wait, wait!” Stan pushed him off the wall and tried reaching towards her. Soos dove straight for Stan and wrapped himself around him, apologizing to him. “Soos, what’re you doing?!” Dipper followed what Soos did and yelled at Mable to turn it off. 

✶ “Stop!” Everyone looked around and they all gasped when their eyes landed on Ford. “Mabel, don’t listen to Dipper. Listen to me,” Ford pushed himself toward the nearest beam. He coiled his arm around it, securing himself. “Do you trust me and Stan, Mable?” Ford firmly asked, his eyes locked with Mabel. “I do!” She desperately said. “Then trust us when we tell you to not push the button.” Mabel looked to Dipper who was widely shaking his head. “Okay,” She raises her hands above her head. “I trust you guys.” She let herself float up, away from the button. “Mable, no–!” A white flash envelops them whole. 

✶ They all roughly made contact with the floor. With a groan, Stan rubbed his head, his head lifting up towards the portal. The portal flickered with wandering electricity. Ford held his breath, eyes fixed on the portal as he waited. A black figure barreled out of the portal, their head whipping towards it. “Close the portal!” You yelled, your hand wrapping around a gun that was hoisted in their waist. You turned their attention back to Stan and Ford. “Close the portal!” You repeated louder this time. In the distance, they all heard a loud distorted guttural grumble. Ford got up from his feet and rushed over to the control panel, flicking all the switches down. “Switch the lever off!” Switching the gun to your other hand, you aimed it at the portal and with your free hand, you pulled the lever. Before whatever monster was chasing you could catch up, the portal sputtered close. You held your chest, catching your breath. The rush of adrenaline you felt passed and you were immediately struck with pain. “Thank you.” You whisper, clutching your side. You think you can manage and to prove it, you take one wobbly step forward. You tried to take another but you collapsed to your knees,  blood splattering on the floor below you. “[Name]!” Stan yelled, he darted towards you. “Stanley?” You croaked out. You blinked in surprise. “Is that really you?” Your question falls on deaf ears as Stan yells for medical supplies. Ford comes rushing to your side, inspecting the upper half of your body. “Stanford’s here too?” You felt your body teeter from side to side. “Is Mom and Dad gonna pop up?” You joke, your body crashing onto Ford. “[Name], can….hear…?”  Stan’s voice fades in and out. “What did you say?” Your eyes squint at Stan. “Here, Grunkle…” You could hear a high pitched voice and you go to look for it but your vision has gone hazy. “They’re slipping…out of…” You really wished you understood what they were saying. And without even realizing, your eyes closed on you. 

✶ You feel a warmth tickle your face causing you to stir awake. “Oh my gosh, it worked!” A voice spoke. “Mable!” A prepubescent voice filled your ears. “What is with all this talking?” You sleepily grumbled out, peeling your eyes open to see two tween kids staring right at you with big wondrous eyes. “Hi, I’m Mable! I’m your great niece.” She introduced herself. “Great niece?” You groggily got up. “Where am I?” You ask, blinking as your vision comes back to you. “You’re in the Mystery Shack!” She tells you with a chipper attitude. “Mystery Shack?” You look down to see that your original outfit you wore was now discarded somewhere and instead wore a large baggy white tee and heart pajama pants. “What am I wearing?” You pinched at your clothes. “Kids!” A gruff voice was heard behind the doors. “Oh shoot!” Mable looked around the room. “Where do we hide?” Dipper whispered, his eyes darting under the bed. “Go under the bed!” Dipper said, diving straight under. “Please don’t tell Grunkle Stan that we’re here!” She pleaded. “Uhm, yeah?” She beamed and hid right under the bed. In an instant, the door was pushed open and your eyes locked on your brothers. Your brain processed it for a moment, wait… “Stanley, Stanford?!” A gasp leaves Ford. “Why are you awake! You’re supposed to be resting.” Ford scolded. You didn’t pay attention to Ford’s scolding, wrapped up in the moment of seeing your twin brothers living and breathing right in front of you. “Are you guys real?” You try to blink away the tears that were obstructing your view. “Of course we are silly.” Stan laughed, sitting down on the bed right next to you and wrapping you in a side hug. “Stan…” You cried. You had spent countless nights, shouldering the knowledge that you weren’t going to see your brothers ever again. That haunted you every single day from the moment you woke up to the minute you went to sleep. Here you are, proven wrong for once in your life. And it feels so good to be held by Stan again, feels so good to have a familiar feeling wash into your senses again. “How?” You ask, peeling yourself away from Stan’s shoulder, wiping the tears away. “We just kept trying and trying.” Ford told you, a somber smile on his lips. “Oh, Ford. Come here!” You grab his wrist and tug him into the bed. The action caused you to drag and flop all of them on the bed with you. Tearful laughter erupts in the room. “I apologize for the scare earlier,” You say, your hand pressing against your side. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” Stan said. “No, really.” You begin to unwrap the gauze around your waist, ignoring Ford and Stan’s protest. “I heal quickly.” You point to your already sealed up gash. The only thing left to prove that you were injured was the thin scar that spread across. Ford gawks in awe. “You need to tell me an in depth story detailing every single thing you have been doing for the past thirty years.” Ford said with so much seriousness you laughed. “Bu-but you passed out. Ford said it was from blood loss!” 

✶ “I only passed out because my body needs to shut down momentarily to heal up my wounds.” You tell him matter of factly. “Oh, great. Now we have another snobby nerd.” Stan joked. “Oh, stop it! You are too, considering you fixed the portal alongside with Mr. Branic over here.” You jabbed a thumb over to Ford who yelled out, “Hey!” in offense. “Hello family!” Mable popped out from under the bed. The three of you screamed loudly in fear, clutching each other. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you guys!” She helped Dipper out from under the bed. “I just wanted to say that you guys are so adorable!” She squealed, pouncing onto the bed. “I can’t believe I have a Great Aunt/Grunkle who has traveled throughout dimensions. Isn’t that so cool?” She kicked her feet in excitement. “What kinds of monsters did you see out there?” Dipper asked, climbing onto the bed and settling himself between you, Ford and Stan. “A lot.” You respond with a smile. “I never caught your brother's name.” You say, booping Dipper’s nose. “His name is Dipper!” Mable pulls him close to her, cheek to cheek. “We’re twins.” She mentioned. “So it runs in the family, huh?” You elbow the two sets of other twins you had the misfortune to partially grow up with. “Guess so,” Stan smiled. “Let’s play a get to know each other game.” Mable offered. Everyone surprisingly agreed. “Okay, let’s start with Great Aunt/Grunkle [Name]. Tell us about yourself.” The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with the family and when the game was over, the twins had left, leaving you with Stan and Ford. “Thank you guys for not giving up on me.” You say into the hug. “We’re family! How could we ever abandon you?” Ford replies. An awkward cough emitted from you and Stan looked off to the side. “Oh.” The last thirty years had been rough, for you and the twins, but it was nice knowing that it ended with the three of you once again reunited at last. 

IT'S DONNE, and again if you guys want more i'll write more but till then i think this concludes word/insured YIPPIE

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

[m1ckeyb3rry]

i’m so excited for your request event eek!! :DDD if you ever get the time, maybe micheal kaiser, but like post marriage? :O

── AIRPORT VISIT

Synopsis: You pick up your husband from the airport, finally reuniting with him after his long trip abroad.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: married couple, lots of banter, talks about insurance??, kaiser hates blue lock but he has to secure the bag i fear 😔, probably ooc because this is an established relationship so he’s kind of sweet…consider it off screen development LMAO

A/N: hello my dear i’m so sorry this took me a sec to respond to!! kaiser is such a funky guy hehe i tried my best writing him in this type of scenario…i hope you like it 💖

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own. now closed!

The airport was colder than you had expected, and you wrapped the sweater you had stolen from Michael’s closet tighter around your shoulders, hiding the lower half of your face in it as you stared at the customs area. Your eyelids were heavy and threatened to droop shut entirely, but you had promised that you would come pick him up, and you didn’t want his first sight of you after almost a month to be you dozing off on your feet.

Shuffling over to a bench and suppressing a yawn when you realized it might still be a bit of time before he came out, you tucked your legs up next to you and leaned your head against the cool white wall beside you. Given the late hour, the airport was all but deserted, or at least as close to deserted as a place so constantly active could be. The steady drone of the air conditioning — which you wished they would turn down! — was mind-numbing, and despite yourself, you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad if you just closed your eyes for a moment. You wouldn’t sleep, you would only rest them so that you appeared cheery and bright when Michael finally arrived…

The next thing you knew, there was a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently awake. You shot to your feet, panic shooting through you at the thought that you were being attacked or something, but when you realized your ‘assailant’ was none other than your dear husband, who you had spent hours waiting for, you relaxed.

“You should’ve just stayed home,” he said, clicking his tongue at you, reaching out to ruffle your hair. His bags sat by his feet, and yawning, you picked one up. “Hey, is that my sweater?”

“Mhm,” you said as you traipsed towards where you had parked your car. “I like this one. I can’t believe I haven’t taken it before.”

He made a face at you. “Stop stealing my clothes.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from taking my things, if you’re bristling at the unfairness,” you said, unlocking the car and opening the trunk, helping him heft his things into the back to hasten the process.

“No thanks. Your clothes are ugly; that’s why you always have to take mine, right?” he said, pressing the button so that the trunk would shut. You yawned again, blinking your eyes open and shut a few times to clear your vision, shaking your head as you did so.

“You’re the one who buys half of them, so what does that say about your taste?” you said. “Yours are just more comfortable.”

“I can start buying you men’s clothes instead, since you insist on wearing them all of the time,” he said, snatching the keys from out of your pocket and sliding into the driver’s side before you could protest.

“Well, but it’s not the same,” you said. “Also, what are you doing? The whole point of me coming to pick you up was so that you didn’t have to drive and all. Aren’t you tired?”

“I just slept for an entire plane ride,” he said. “I’m as energetic as Ness when he gets his hands on espresso. You, on the other hand, will probably crash this car if you’re allowed to drive it, and then we’d have to deal with insurance, so I’d really prefer it if you just get in the passenger seat and leave this to me, because our agent is a bitch.”

“She’s not that bad,” you said. 

“Every day that I don’t have to call her is a good day,” he said. “Now, are you coming, or should I just leave you here?”

You scoffed even as you ducked into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt. “You should’ve left me behind. I could’ve caught a ride with Ness. I’m sure he’d be less mean about it.”

“Ha, ha,” Michael said. “That was so funny. Did you recently update my will to make yourself my sole benefactor? Because if so, you’re in luck. I just died. Died of laughter. I’m dead now, which means you’re a rich woman, Mrs. Kaiser.”

“Shut up, you overdramatic oaf,” you said.

“You’re so rude to the man who just made you wealthy,” he said, taking your hand and holding it to his lips as he pulled out of the airport parking lot. “I’m worth more than Ness. Don’t even joke about going with him again. He won’t give you anything when he dies. You’ll be left broke and unhappy.”

“Right, because your net worth is why I agreed to marry you,” you said. “No other reason.”

“That combined with my good looks and my amazing talent, I’m sure,” he said.

“Your humility was only a bonus,” you said. He dropped your hand and shot you a mock glare.

“Just remember who’s in control of this car! What if I crash it? Then you’ll regret everything!” he said.

“You’ll regret it more,” you said. “I’ll make you call the insurance agent.”

“What if I’m on my deathbed?” he said. “What if I’m bleeding out at the scene of the crash? What would you do then, huh?”

“I’d use your phone to call an ambulance, and I’d use mine to call the agent so that you could talk to her while we waited for help to come,” you said.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Cold. We haven’t seen each other in a month and this is how you’re treating me.”

“I did miss you,” you said, resting your temple against the cool glass of the window. “I wish you didn’t have to go all of the way to Japan every year to help out with that program.”

He sighed. “Believe me, if they paid even a dollar less, I wouldn’t. I hate those stupid Blue Lock bastards, and every time I have to interact with them, I lose ten years off of my lifespan. ”

“Oh, no,” you said. “Remind me when you’re about to run out completely. I’ll update your will, just in case.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned.

“Really, though, is there anyone you don’t complain about talking to?” you said. “At this rate, you’re not going to have very many years left at all. Will you leave me a widow so soon?”

He gave you a charming grin. “I like talking to you. That’s why I married you.

“Did those Blue Lock boys teach you about this kind of thing alongside soccer?” you said. “I don’t remember you being quite so smooth when you left. Was it Yoichi Isagi? You mentioned him a lot in your texts.”

“Y/N,” Michael said gravely. “I would strip naked, swim in a vat of acid, and then sleep with Don Lorenzo on a bed of nails before I would ever take advice from Isagi.”

“Poor Lorenzo,” you said, laughing at the mental image of what he was describing. “Why’d you throw him under the bus like that?”

“We took the same plane back from Japan,” he explained. “He had a layover here, so you could say he’s just a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Jeez,” you said. “Alright, I get it. You just thought about me so frequently and fondly that you came up with these lines all on your own.”

“Exactly,” he said smugly. “I don’t need stupid Isagi to tell me how to impress you. Only I know how to do that, anyways, so why would I ask someone else for help?”

“Sorry for the suggestion,” you said as he pulled into the garage of our home. “And thank you for driving. If only your flight had been a little bit earlier! I really would have driven you back.”

“Next time,” he said, patting your head as he helped you out of the car. “Or I can call a taxi and you can just stay home from now on, so that neither of us are inconvenienced.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” you said with a pout, helping him bring his things inside. He smiled slightly, kissing your forehead with the utmost of delicacy.

“Just you being here is nice enough for me,” he said. “Don’t put yourself through so much trouble, okay? The knowledge that you’re waiting at home for me makes me happier than anything else ever could.”

“Okay,” you said reluctantly. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed now, alright?”

“You, too,” you said.

“I will, but on one condition,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“You take my sweater off,” he said. “It’s mine, seriously!”

“Looks like you’re sleeping on the sofa tonight, then,” you said.

“Y/N,” he whined, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You have me now. Aren’t I much warmer and better than a sweater?”

“Hm,” you said. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he said. “Fine. I guess I’ll just see myself back to Japan, then.”

“Don’t do that,” you said. “It’s too cold without you here, and lonely, too. I’ll even take the sweater off if you’ll stay.”

“You’re so unfair,” he said. “How am I supposed to say no to you? You can keep the stupid sweater.”

“And you?” you said. He pinched your cheek affectionately.

“I suppose you can keep me, too.”

[grison-in-space]

So how long did it end up taking for the tow truck to show up? Did you beat South Korea’s overturn of martial law?

ha, I drafted a post to respond to that last night and then fell over (it turns out that sitting for 3hrs in an unheated car during MN december is pretty exhausting).

honestly it probably took as long as the South Koreans, maybe a little longer, but fortunately not that long. No more than 3h, definitely no less than 2h 15m. the tow man arrived just as the last few board members were wiggling over fences, but the vote had gone through by the time I was settled in his cab on the way to the dealership where I bought the car three fucking weeks ago for diagnostics and repair.

we lost a little time when the tow man asked in some despair if Matilda could ride in the car being towed. I noted that if it was safe for her to do that I would like to do that as well, and he sloped off to carve her out a little room in the snack detritus of his back seat. (He asked that she not eat his snacks. Matilda's commitment to professionalism is sufficiently absolute that she once successfully convinced a trainer who had known her from ten weeks that she didn't have fun and play games--she just doesn't play games when she has Job going on. Frankly, she didn't even look particularly interested in snacks or the cab, just focused on me and what I might ask her to do next. I was very proud.)

as for what happened, turns out that car manufacturers have installed anti-siphoning technology into the fuel tank entry point, so now gas siphoners just drill into your fucking gas tank to steal a gallon of gas instead. :) $1800 for a new tank, and I hadn't got the insurance on my new car yet. not ideal. fortunately the insurance were happy to backdate it as long as I showed them the bill of sale. I would like to ask the universe, as always, what the fuck is wrong with it.

more gushing about my very professional little dog under very trying circumstances under the cut.

see, I had never ridden in a tow truck cab before, so what I learned is that this one at least had two steep steps up to the actual seat. Tilly, whose usual habit is to hop into the driver's side and climb over the console to her usual spot where I can buckle her in, saw that and froze a little--understandably--so I hoisted her up. Unfortunately, we are in Minnesota and it is December, and the Manitobahs I was wearing have many strengths but grippiness is not really one of them. I slipped a little, and she.... handled it like a pro and was even able to negotiate getting down from the cab by herself safely, with me ready to catch her, on cue.

Then she came into the dealership with me to sort out telling people where the car was and getting it taken in for service, during which she sat politely and waited for a pretty long period of time getting it checked out. We eventually got a lift home and a Culver's trip on the way, and she got a whole fry she absolutely earned.

I am again very proud of her. She's handled objectively unexpected and horrible days in our life politely, professionally, and causing the minimum disruption under some very trying circumstances.

Also, what the fuck is with my luck, and do need some kind of cleansing ritual or something here?

[loopspoop]

………

Once Jigen put the cushions back in their places, Goemon and Zenigata helped Lupin back onto the couch. He had been fighting both of them the whole time, but now he was fighting even more, trying to get free from their grasps so that he could get back what he stole. It was a struggle to even get him to sit down on the couch, but after a few minutes they did manage to get him calm enough to do at least that.

He fought less against Goemon's grip, so Zenigata got up from the couch and joined by Jigen. Mostly because of Lupin, but partially because of Jigen too. He squatted on the floor in front of Lupin to attempt to match his height.

Lupin glared daggers at him, but Zenigata was far more worried at the small bits of blood coming from Lupin's head.

Goemon spoke first, barely audible, “Why did you steal from us?”

……..

How could he answer a question like that? It was almost accusatory, but not in the way he would've expected. The emphasis was far less on the ‘why he stole,’ but far heavier on the ‘why us’. He wasn't even sure why he did it. He knew it was to escape or for insurance to escape later or gain some advantage. But why did he feel the need to run away so badly? Other than the ever growing creep of extreme claustrophobia or the neverending fog of numbness, there was little else. Just something in his mind that told him to. Desperately screaming every second that he wasn't finding a way out of the situation, or better yet finding a solution to fix it altogether. No matter the solution or escape. He pushed the thoughts away again.

He needed to get the things back from them. But now they knew he was after them.

“I just felt like doing it,” a weak excuse, and he knew not one of them bought it.

The man with the beard scoffed at his answer, “I call BS on that. You've always had some reason to steal stuff,” the man next to him slapped him on the shoulder as if to tell him to shut up.

“You stole our car keys. Were you planning on driving somewhere?” The quiet one was still holding onto his arm, as if he was going to bolt at any given moment.

What a stupid question. Why else would he have stolen the keys? Of course he was going to drive somewhere. He was going to drive anywhere to get away from here, the questions, the stares, the fog, and worst of all the feeling of being trapped in a cage shrinking in size with every moment that he stayed. If he could just go somewhere to think for a while. To remember even the smallest thing.

He felt his lungs itching from the inside out.

“No.”

“Then why did you take ‘em?” it was the other man again, this time sitting down in the nearby chair.

He hesitated in answering, “Just in case.”

The man in front of him questioned, “Is that why you took the gun too?”

He looked away from them and at the window. He felt the air around him fill with anxiety.

The man asked again, “Why did you take it?”

It became extraordinarily quiet in the room. He could tell what they were thinking. He wanted to tell them it was just to get away. Just a bit of insurance. Not that he was sure he could even tell them that. But he KNEW he couldn't tell them what had been running through his mind. He couldn't tell himself what had been running through his mind. He completely refused to believe it up until this moment. The temptation. The neverending feeling of just wanting all of it to stop. Wanting to just remember everything magically like nothing happened. But when that didn't happen he felt so completely hopeless, so trapped and claustrophobic. To the point where it felt like the only way to get away from everything, when they kept him from escaping, giving him no other ways out. And that's why he held onto it.

He was so ashamed of even thinking like that. Taking the easy way out and not considering anything more. There was always a plan, it always worked out. Something in the back of his mind told him that. But he couldn't see those plans anymore, he was tired and his mind was too broken.

But he recalled much of the logic that had made appearances in his thoughts throughout the night. The memories of his failures. His inability to do even the simplest of tasks. The fact that he couldn't remember anything even still. Even after trying to break his own head open again in the hope that maybe, just maybe, something would spill out. The vague feeling of a memory of being abandoned. He was just giving them what they wanted right?

He thought of all the questions he kept being bombarded by. All of them useless. And everytime the others looked anywhere near him he saw the same look of pity on their faces. He was not a thing to be pitied. But he pitied himself.

If he had just tried harder, he could've remembered everything by now, or worked around it so no one would've ever noticed. And his injuries too, he could've hidden well enough too. If he had only tried.

None of it was right. He knew that. And yet it refused to silence. Instead twirling around and around in his mind, tightening until he couldn't help but listen. Until there was nothing else he could think about. And too tight to fight back against. He tried, but fighting it only tangled it more and made it even louder.

He was pathetic. And the thoughts only made that more true. He couldn't push them away anymore. He was nothing. But he couldn't tell them that. So he stayed silent and looked down at the couch.

……….

They watched him for a few minutes before accepting the silence as his answer. Each one tried to prompt him to answer once more, but he only stared down at the couch. They had received their answer.

Zenigata tried asking if it was for any specific purpose, be it escape, intimidation, a tool, anything except one. But Lupin refused to answer any of them, only confirming their worries more.

Zenigata pulled Jigen into the kitchen to talk, while Goemon sat with Lupin.

Jigen was already able to tell what Zenigata was thinking, less because he could see it, and more because it was exactly what he had been thinking.

“He's not stupid. He wouldn't ever do that.”

“Jigen, he's not really him right now.”

Jigen punched the counter, “I don't care! He wouldn't ever do that!”

“We're going to need to keep an eye on him for a while. Twenty four seven. And lock up that stuff somehow.”

“Tch, that won't stop him and you know it,” Jigen was already pulling out a fresh pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

“That's why we're watching him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

“He's not going to do anything stupid! He's better than that!”

……….

🥺 poor Lupin

[gemsofgreece]

Today something happened that I would like to talk about, because it reminded me how meaningless stereotypes are and how you don’t have to believe people with a self-placed badge of honour on their shirt.

We had a car crash. The responsibility was of the other car, rented by a family of seemingly put together tourists from a rich small Western European country that is considered like the heart of civilised West Europe (being vague but not really).

While we were waiting, a woman and a man ran to all of us, and because we were all a bit lost, they called the police for us and offered again and again to call an ambulance. They also offered to buy us water but we all refused, except we thanked them and told them to go home without worries. The others said nothing.

A little later a motorcyclist passed by, he gave us some advice and asked if we wanted water. This time my mother admitted she needed some and he left. He returned soon with bottles of water for us and the tourists. He tried to offer water bottles to the tourist kids but they were too distrustful. The adults took them. We all thanked him except I tried to give him the money and they did not. He did not accept it and said he just did the bare minimum.

The tourists “politely” tried to question that their responsibility was theirs. They did not look at us once, except maybe stealing some glances, and they did not bother apologising of course.

They, the notoriously environmentally conscious Europeans, drank the water that good man gave them and littered some poor person’s house by leaving the empty bottles on the window! I was about to tell them “they forgot their bottles” but they were quickly getting back into the rented car. The insurance representative, a super positive and pleasant man, commented that he had lived in big very disciplined Central European country next to that of the tourists, and these types of people there would straight out call the police on you for leaving your trash in a random place, but when they go on a foreign country or one they deem “inferior” like Greece, they are the first to unapologetically dump their trash anywhere they want like literally in other people’s properties.

A man who is an acquaintance passed by and was insisting to go back to his place and make us fresh juice as we were waiting for the insurance to be done with the report under this sizzling afternoon sun. We convinced him we were okay and we would soon be done.

Once we were done, the tourists took their kids from an internet cafe nearby, where I am willing to bet the cafe did not ask for a fee and they did not offer anything as a thanks. They took the kids, they left the bottles in the poor person’s house, they said no other word to the insurance guy and they did not near as looked at us of course. The car was rented, so the insurance company will pay for everything and they will go about their vacation without any repercussion whatsoever and without as much as an apologetic smile.

A relative learnt about it and came join us as we were waiting for the insurance report to be done. Then my relative chased the insurance guy to give him a tip, for being a pleasant and patient man working under this ruthless sun. The man refused, saying he was doing his job, but my relative put the money on his hand anyway.

I am saying all this, not to trash on anyone as a whole, but to show you how stereotypes mean nothing. I met a lot of lovely Greeks today and a bunch of civilised west European assholes. Honestly it’s like there was no emotion inside them except for suppressed anger or maybe, hopefully, a bit of concealed embarrassment. They did not even ask us if we were okay. Anyway faith in my country a little restored. Even before the accident, I just so happened to stumble onto many super helpful and caring people today. At least on that aspect, it was a day that made you feel you can hope.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Annual Salaries

So, like ... I get the whole "fiduciary duty to shareholders" thing. At least partially because that's the whole deal my mother always talks about when I mention the absurdity of the whole ... you know... *gestures vagely at late stage capitalism*. I mean, at least she flags up things like how many people's pensions are tied up in the whole shares thing. I still think they take it way too far in terms of fiduciary duty to shareholders, but I understand it. Sort of. Ish. Intellectually. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

But there's one thing you're never going to convince me is okay, and that is the fact that the CEOs of these companies - you know, the ones who lay off hundreds of people to make the profit margins look bigger because fiduciary duty to shareholders - take home seven- or eight-figure salaries. For all the bullshit people talk about how most of these people's worth is on paper rather than liquid, we're talking annual salary here. This particular fact? All it leaves me with is questions. Like:

We're talking 7-8 figures annually, so what the fuck are you doing to spend tens of millions of dollars per year?!? How do you spend that much money? What could you possibly spend that much money on that you need more tens of millions the following year? How is that possible?

What exactly do they do to earn that much money? If the worker is worth the hire, what exactly are they doing that's worth tens of millions annually? Now, you could say "ensuring their fiduciary duty to shareholders is met", but they're not even the ones who are figuring out the best ways to reduce the fiduciary duty to shareholders; they have middle management to do most of the figuring out, and those guys only (heh; 'only') make six figures annually, while the CEO makes tens of millions by ... picking one. They're giving themselves that much money per year for the equivalent of ordering at the McDonalds drive-through.

I swear to the gods, it's like the money really is nothing more than a way of keeping score. The profits thing is sickening, but understandable if you grit your teeth and accept, for now, that companies are legally required to screw over employees and customers alike in the name of "fiduciary duty to shareholders", or else they are literally seen as stealing from the shareholders. But ... the annual salaries. I mean. Come on. Tens of millions per year. And by the Vimes "Boots" Theory of Socio-Economic Unfairness, they shouldn't have to spend that much. They can afford a house, and probably have one (hell, they probably have several at this point), so no rent. Then can afford the good insurance, so no being financially wiped out in the event of illness or injury. Hell, they can afford the healthy food that so many people can't, and to heat their homes properly, and so probably aren't getting as sick in the first place. They have probably never really met a financially crippling car repair bill, either because they can afford to replace stuff before it falls apart completely or because they just replace the whole damn car whenever they feel like. They're not beholden on "fast fashion" (read - stuff put together in sweatshops in countries with few to no labour laws and sold for a halfway affordable price at Target or Primark or wherever), so their clothes and shoes aren't falling apart after a couple of months of wear. And none of that - none of the things that so many of us feel fortunate if we happen to have it, and so few of us actually do - even makes a dent in their yearly take-home pay.

They're fucking dragons. That's all there is to it. So many of us love the idea of dragons on hoards other than money, but we have dragons, and they're ... just ... asshole humans with way too much fucking money.

So I know why they don't take a salary cut instead of tanking the lives of hundreds of people by laying them off (and making the lives of the remaining people worse as they're forced to pick up the slack or join their friends in the unemployment queue). But it fucking disgusts me, all the same. Money exists to be used, not to be sat on by rich assholes. I mean, so many people work their asses off and barely earn enough to stay alive in this economy, and these guys get paid more than anyone could reasonably spend sitting on their asses, harrassing and abusing their workers, and listening to advice on who to fire to make their profit numbers look better.

I know there are some lovely things about the world, and some lovely people in it. But dear gods, the rot is so very visible.

[ultimatedreamer104]

pjo/hoo characters as things i have overheard in conversations or just found on the internet ( inspiration: @icankillyouwithashoe ) !*slight spoilers*!

Jason while floating: butterfly in the sky I can fly oh so high~

┌⁠(⁠・⁠。⁠・⁠)⁠┘⁠♪

Annabeth talking to Percy: Three words. Say them and I'm yours.

Percy: ... ... three words

ಠ⁠_⁠ʖ⁠ಠ

Hazel to Leo : leo, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power!

Leo while on fire: Well of course I have.

Leo, as a tree catches fire: Have you ever tried going mad without power?

Leo as the whole camp is now on fire: It's boring.

ᕙ⁠(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠ᕗ

Leo apologizing to charon for setting the camp on fire: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

🔥🔥🔥

Percy: Hey Jason,

Jason: Yes?

Percy: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Jason:

Jason: Where’s annabeth?

ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ

Nico: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Jason: Wasn't will with you?

Will: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Grover, about annabeth: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Luke: Are we stealing them?

Thalia: New or used?

Grover: Wonderful responses, both of you.

ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

Percy, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Nico, pulling out an Uno card: +4

Leo, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you

Frank, trembling: What are we playing?

༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

(I feel like this one could work for will and Nico too)

Piper: Why are Percy and annabeth sitting with their backs to each other?

Grover: They had a fight.

Piper: Then why are they holding hands?

Grover: They get sad when they fight

(⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠)

Nico: Self care is actually getting into fights with randoms in dark alleys.

Piper: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!

Leo: Self care is the burning heat when your on fire!

Hazel: self care is taking your birthday cake just so I can eat the frosting.

Percy: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

ಠ⁠ ⁠೧⁠ ⁠ಠ

Annabeth: Anyone d-

Nico: Depressed?

Frank: Drained?

Percy: Dumb?

Piper: Disliked?

Annabeth: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

ಠ⁠,⁠_ಠ

Hazel: Piper... How do I begin to explain Piper?

Percy: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Jason: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

Drew while under charm: piper is flawless.

Leo: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

(⁠・⁠o⁠・⁠)

Annabeth: We need to distract these guys

Leo and percy: Leave it to us

Leo and percy: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Nico, hazel, and frank: *Immediately begin arguing*

Jason walking into scene, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

(⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠)

Leo: I love the term 'partners'. Are we dating? Are we robbing a bank? Are we the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies and are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit? Who knows.

Piper staring at Leo: I meant on the group project...

ರ⁠_⁠ರ

Frank laying on the ground with a big bruise on his forehead: The risk I took was calculated but, man, am I bad at math.

(⁠●⁠_⁠_⁠●⁠)

Nico opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

┐⁠(⁠ ⁠∵⁠ ⁠)⁠┌

Percy: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

¯⁠\⁠_⁠༼⁠ ⁠ಥ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠ಥ⁠ ⁠༽⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Leo: Hello, I'm leo. I work at a shop now. Here to help. Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget it. Very helpful, as that does happen.

ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ

Luke: I have yet to encounter a problem where a sword didn't factor into the solution at least in some way.

•==|---------->

*leo is ordering a cake over the (monster proof)phone*

Shop Employee: …and what would you like your cake to say?

Leo, covering the phone to look at The Squad: Do we want a talking cake?

ಠ⁠∀⁠ಠ

Will: Why are you like this??

Nico: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

[mikasimaginairyworld]

The Umbrella Academy: Firecracker - Man on the Moon (4/30)

Umbrella Academy Masterlist

warnings: violence (torture), blood, substances (alcohol and pills)

word count: 3571

"Where is Number Five?", Cha-Cha asked for the fifth time, pulling even harder at the wire that was choking Klaus.

"Don't... stop... I'm almost there...", Klaus moaned.

Cha-Cha looked down on his lap confused: "Is that a...?"

"Yep.", Hazel confirmed. Disgusted Cha-Cha let go of Klaus. 

"Nothing like a little strangulation to get the blood flowing!", Klaus said coughing and grunting from the lack of air and chuckled. 

"What's so funny, asshole?", Hazel slapped his head. Klaus laughed cheerfully: "What's funny is... for one... you spend the last ten hours beating me senseless and you learned absolutely nothing. I mean, nobody tells me shit. The truth is, I'm the one person in that house nobody will even notice is gone. You assholes kidnapped the wrong guy!"

Hazel slapped Klaus again: "Please make him stop talking!"

Klaus had been kidnapped and beaten up by Hazel right before the man had escaped the academy in hopes of getting some information on Five's whereabouts. Well, Cha-Cha and Hazel were in for a huge disappointment.

 

Doctor Lance cheerfully walked up to his car and got it. He sensed that this day was going to be a great day. Unfortunately right as he was about to drive away Five blitzed on the passenger's seat. Five quickly leaned towards him and pressed a knife to his throat.

"One chance. That's all you've got. One chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab.", he threatened. 

"I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients. I bill the insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market.", the doctor stuttered.

"Including eyeballs?"

"Yeah, they're my biggest seller. I mean, they sell like hotcakes. I've got a list - a waiting list - probably 20 buyers."

"So the serial number told you..."

"Could've already been bought, yes. Off the books."

Five sighed heavily: "I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and I need it now!"

​​​​​​​"I don't have it! At least not on me. The only copy's in my safe at the lab."

"Well, you start the car then. We're going on a field trip."

Luther had been looking all over for Five but with no avail. Heavy steps came closer and closer to Five's old room until Luther's huge paw slowly pushed the door open. Looking into the simple decorated room he saw a figure splayed out on Five's bed. Going  inside the room he scanned its contents. Bloody bandages and towels were splayed across the floor. Upon further inspection the figure on Five's bed turned out to be Nailah who was completely blacked out. 

Her dark curls were dangling in all directions, covering her eyes and half her face. She was laying there in only her underwear and a huge shirt covering nearly her whole body. Luther grunted amused when he recognised the shirt as the one he had been missing for some days. A lukewarm feeling spread in his stomach when he remembered Nailah's habit of stealing his shirts to sleep in them. Luther's face crinkled when he saw the whiskey bottle Nailah was hugging. It was empty. 

Luther groaned silently but quietly knelt down and began inspecting Five's drawers hoping to find any clue  to where he might be.

"Number Five hasn't lived in this room since he was a boy, Master Luther.", Pogo said from the door and came inside scanning Nailah's sleeping figure. 

"Yes, I know. But we need to warn him. He doesn't know that we've been attacked. He doesn't know they're looking for him. He doesn't know...", Luther said not stopping his search. 

"What are you doing here?", Diego asked sharply. The brothers started each other down for a second. Diego's eyes darted to Nailah and the corners of his lips twitched upwards for a second.

"Do you know about mom?", Luther asked shyly referring to when he and Allison had found Grace shut off this morning.

"It looks like you've got what you wanted after all.", Diego said from gritted teeth.

"Wanna tell me what you're doing here?", Luther asked continuing looking around the room.

"Looking for Five.", Diego answered scanning the wall.

"Let me guess, you're gonna save the day.", Luther scoffed fishing the empty whiskey bottle from Nailah's arms and smelling it. He put it next to the bed with a disgusted expression.

"It's what I do. Asshole.", Diego said getting ready to leave the room. 

"Really? Last time I checked you mopped floors.", Luther commented inspecting Five's desk. Diego paused in the doorframe. 

​​​​​​​"And what do you do?", he asked turning around to face Luther and Pogo. ​​​​​​​"Sit on the moon for four years, waiting for orders?"

"Boys, this won't help us find Five.", Pogo tried to intervene.

"Keep on being a loyal soldier after everything our father did to you.", Diego ignored Pogo.

"What? You mean save my life?", Luther asked approaching Diego. Nailah mumbled and incoherent phrase in her sleep.

"No, I mean turn you into a monster.", Diego leaned against Five's wardrobe.

Luther's eyes darkened. His arm jerked forward and punched a hole into the wardrobe. Diego didn't even flinch but Nailah jumped up with a little shriek, her hair falling in front of her face in dark waves. Pogo sighed heavily.

"Can't hide it anymore, champ.", Diego smiled viscously.

​​​​​​​"He had a difficult decision to make and he made it.", Luther said with pain on his eyes. Nailah groaned loudly pulling her wild locks into a a bun. The few strands she didn't catch hung loosely framing her face. 

"Grow up, Luther. We're not 13 anymore.", Diego groaned while Nailah rubbed her face aggressively.

"That's what leaders do, by the way.", Luther countered. Behind him, Nailah took the bottle from the ground and tried to empty the last few drops before Pogo took it out of her hands.

"He send you on that mission all along. Almost got you killed.", Diego reasoned while Nailah threw Pogo an annoyed glance before turning her attention to her brothers.

​​​​​​​"Yeah, well at least he was there. Where were you? You and everyone else in this family? You walked out.", Luther said bitterly.

​​​​​​​"And thank Christ I did or I would've ended up just like you. Let me ask you a question. When you watch one of these nature shows, does. it turn you on?"

"Diego, please!", Pogo tried to intervene again but got ignored.

"So what? Is he just an animal to you too, Diego?", Luther pointed at Pogo.

"Enough.", Pogo said in a tone that even had Nailah straighten her back. "This house was attacked. We barely got out with our lives. And Grace... she wasn't so lucky." Nailah's eyes widened through the hangover fearing the worst. She looked at her brothers who only looked away. Nailah exhaled deeply.

"Your brother is missing and this is how you rise to the occasion? Take your nonsense elsewhere. And take your sister with you before she drinks herself to death. Now.", Pogo continued. 

Luther and Diego apologised silently taking Nailah by an arm and pulling her with them out of the room. 

​​​​​​​"You've got any clothes around here?", Diego asked scanning Nailah's bare legs in brith yellow socks.

"In my room.", she mumbled and the trio made their way to small bedroom next to Diego's. While Luther went to the kitchen to get some water and aspirin Diego waited for Nailah to get dressed. He scanned the room that was full of opposites. Tons of opened and unopened books were laying around accompanied by various dance and jogging attire. Language guides, dictionaries and lots of science magazines were scattered around the whole room. Above the headboard a severely overused and discoloured pair of ballet shoes were hanging by their ribbons. 

"You still dance?", Diego asked. "Occasionally. Don't really have the time anymore.", Nailah shrugged pulling a fresh dark green cropped sweater over her head.

"What with all that sleeping in a pod crap?", Diego snickered.

"You can laugh all you want but it works. Just look at me and then look at ... well... you.", Nailah countered putting on a pair of surprisingly well preserved red converse. Diego chuckled lightly. 

"There you go.", Luther handed Nailah the water and she drowned it immediately.

"Where do you think Five went?", Diego asked Luther. The brothers began arguing again. about where would be the best place to start looking.

"We could start at the car.", Nailah suggested while packing up some notebooks into a bag.

"What car?", Diego asked confused.

"The one where Luther found us yesterday. It's still there, come on let's go.", Nailah said walking out the door and grabbing the sunglasses on from her vanity.

Confused Luther and Diego followed her.

"Maybe you're not hitting him hard enough?", Klaus heard Hazel ask Cha-Cha who just scoffed at the comment clearly taking offence. 

​​​​​​​"Me? You're the one with the stupid orthopaedic bracelet."

​​​​​​​"I told you already. It's just for support."

​​​​​​​"Withdrawal. I'd staring already. Otherwise who's the dead babushka?", Ben asked Klaus who just glared at the old woman mumbling in Russian by the window. 

"I don't know but it's driving me crazy. The bitch won't shut up!", Klaus sighed and ignored Hazel's orders to keep looking forward.

Suddenly Cha-Cha and Hazel faced Klaus again, this time with his coat in their hands.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. What are you doing? That's mine. That's my personal. stuff!", he asked panicked.

One by one Cha-Cha pulled out various pills. As soon as Hazel realised how important they were to Klaus he began stomping on them, reducing them to powder. Klaus screamed in protest.

Ben ordered Klaus to be strong but as soon as Cha-Cha started swinging pills and cannabis-chocolate in front of him, they both knew hope was lost. 

​​​​​​​"I don't know where Five is, okay? I wasn't lying about that. But I can tell you that hasn't... hasn't been making any sense since he came back.", Klaus began with tears in his eyes.

"Elaborate.", Hazel ordered.

"I... uh.. it's just he's been acting like a... like a lunatic. He's been sitting in his van in front of a lab or something and looking for the owner of an eyeball. One of those fake ones."

"That makes no sense.", Hazel sighed annoyed.

"Hold on. Tell us more about this eye and why is it so important.", Cha-Cha interrupted. 

"He said. it had to do something with the end of times, or something like that.", Klaus choked out.

Cha-Cha and Hazel looked at each other and smiled.

Luther, Nailah and Diego soon found the place where they had left the van the day before. Luther frantically began to try to open the doors but they didn't bulge. Diego looked at him expectantly before taking over and picking the locks with his knifes in no time. He opened the door and the brothers tried to get past each other to get on the passenger's seat. "I'mOne.", Luther ended the struggle and Diego just rolled his eyes opening the backdoor before letting Nailah enter first not without a demonstrative bow. In her young body she reminded him of a little sister.

The siblings began searching the van. Suddenly Diego whistled. Nailah and Luther looked at him holding a book. It was Vanya's biography and the front page was covered in not only equations but a stamp from the Public Library of Argyle Public Library.

​​​​​​​"I think I know where to find Five."​​​​​​​, Diego announced proudly. 

"Great. I'll go run by my apartment real quick and I'll meet you there.", Nailah said and disappeared. Diego and Luther just shrugged and began making their way towards the other part of town.

Nailah arrived at the apartment panting heavily. She knew spending too much time in the pod could affect her physical performance but this was just a joke. She quickly disposed of her bag with the notebooks and went to the bathroom. There she first changed the dressing on her wound. Looking into the mirror she saw how the freckles that had usually covered her dark skin had paled. Probably from the exhaustion. She did look like shit. Huge eyebags under her tired eyes and her hair definitely needed a wash. She sighed heavily and put. her hair up in a tight ponytail hoping it would wake her up a bit. She splashed some icy water in her face then pulled out the bottle of vodka from under the sink she had hidden for emergencies. Taking huge sips she walked to the hidden door and after tapping in the code she went down the stairs to her lab. She checked on the stats of the pod. Oxygen, temperature, power. Everything was normal and ready for her to use. She took another huge sip from the bottle and promised herself this would be the last one. After all she couldn't go back into the pod drunk. She had to be squeaky clean. Closing the door behind her she grabbed a cap from the hanger and checked where the library was.

On her way there she spotted Allison and Vanya walk into a bar. Even though she wasn't particularly close with wither of her sister seeing them together having a good time send a sharp spike through her lungs. She wasn't jealous just sad. It had always been that way. Two of the sister together, never all of them. Always one left out.

Arriving at the library she quickly discovered were Luther and Diego were. She just followed their annoyed arguing voices.

​​​​​​​"You wanna know why I left?", Nailah heard Diego ask. She slipped behind bookshelves far enough. to not. be seen but close enough to hear the conversation. She knew everyone had their reasons to leave but she'd never bothered to ask.

"What? What are you talking about?", Luther asked coming closer to Diego.

​​​​​​​"Why I left the academy."

"Yeah, 'cause you couldn't handle me being Number One.", Luther answered.

"No. Because that's what you do when you're seventeen. You move out, become your own person, grow up."

"Oh yeah. You're a real grown-up.", Luther scoffed.

​​​​​​​"At least I make my own decisions. You've never had to hold down a job. Pay bills. You ever even been with a girl?", Diego know how. to push Luther's buttons. The giant looked at him confused and horrified. 

"I... ", he began. Nailah wanted to intervene to spare him embarrassment but a flash of plastic caught her eye. 

​​​​​​​"Look, you wanna blame me, blame us, for leaving that's okay. But maybe you're asking yourself the wrong question.", Diego's soft voice followed Nailah as she went to investigate where the plastic was. When she found it she sighed deeply and made her way back to her brothers.

​​​​​​​"Do you ever stop talking?", Luther asked right as Diego saw Nailah approach them. He send her a sceptical look seeing her in sunglasses again. Before he could comment on her state again she announced: "Come on you melodramatic morons. I've found our Number Five."

The she led them to where Five was lying passed out with Delores in one arm and a bottle of vodka in the other. "Is he uh...", Luther began.

"Drunk as a skunk.", Diego confirmed smiling while Nailah investigated the bottle.

Luther sighed heavily and picked up Five like a bride. Diego snickered at that and began gathering all of Five's notebooks into Five's duffle bag. Nailah emptied the rest of the bottle in a few huge sips.

"You really have a drinking problem, you know that?", Diego commented while Nailah picked up Delores with a disgusted expression.

Nailah send him a glare: "At least I acknowledge it."

"What's that supposed to mean?", Luther asked offended.

"Unresolved mommy issues and abandonment issues.", she just answered and made her way to the elevator not waiting for her brothers. 

Walking back the alcohol started to kick and and Nailah was enjoying the blissful rush in her blood.

"We can't go back to the house. It's not secure and those psychopaths could come back at any moment.", Luther suggested still carrying Five.

"My place is closer than Nailah's and no one will look for him there.", Diego offered as Five yawned waking up.

He looked at Luther confused who just warned him: "If you vomit on me..."

"You know what's funny? Ah! I'm going through puberty. Twice!", Five asked ignoring Diego's annoyed frown.

"You know I think I could help with that.", Nailah offered jumping over puddles.

"What? Puberty?"

​​​​​​​"Yeah. I've got my machine. If I can stop the aging process I can probably speed it up.  I could age you up a few years.", Nailah said giggling.

Five's eyes watered: "You would do that? Thank you!"

He then reflected and looked up again at Luther: "I drank that whole bottle didn't I?

"Not the whole. Nailah helped.", Luther growled.

"Where's Delores?", Five asked in a drunk panicked gurgle.

"She's here with me! We're getting to know each other. She really is a great catch. Here you go.", Nailah chirped handing Delores back to Five. Five embraced her delicately.

"We're drunk. But that's what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye. Poof, it's gone. What are you guys talking about?"

​​​​​​​"Two masked intruders attacked the academy last night.", Luther said.

"They came looking for you.", Diego added in a fake cheerful voice.

"And they had the same masks as the guys that chased us at the mall.", Nailah finished.

"Hazel and Cha-Cha.", Five sighed.

"Who?", Diego asked while Luther complained: ​​​​​​​"You know I hate code names."

​​​​​​​"The best of the best. Except for me of course.", Five explained.

"The best of what?", Luther asked while Nailah whispered "Murder" ins ear.

​​​​​​​"You know, Delores always said she hated when I drink. She said it made me surly...", Five began.

Diego immediately caught him off in tone that let Nailah stop her happy bouncing: "Hey! I need you to focus! What do this Hazel and Cha-Cha want?"

Five gave him a huge smile. ​​​​​​​"We just wanna protect you.", Diego assured.

"Protect me.", Five scoffed. ​​​​​​​"I don't need your protection, Diego. Do you have any idea how many people I've killed? I'm the Four frickin' Horsemen. The apocalypse is coming."

The he leaned back and vomited only barely missing Luther. "Ew.", Nailah whispered.

At Diego's shabby place in the box-club boiler room Luther placed Five gently on Diego's bed. Luther, Diego and Nailah stood above him looking down at their brother curiously. 

​​​​​​​"Funny. If I didn't know he was such a prick, I'd say he looks almost adorable in his sleep.", Diego commented.

​​​​​​​"Let's be grateful then that we know him.", Nailah said.

"Don't get cocky, young lady. Now go and drink some water.", Diego snapped at her to which she only chuckled: " Young lady? I'm the same age you are."

​​​​​​​"Highly doubt that. Physically and mentally.", Luther commented and Nailah scoffed but listened.

​​​​​​​"We need to find out what his connections are with these lunatics before someone else dies. You've met them, right? Any information you might want to share with us?", Diego asked Nailah.

"I know just as much as you.", she shook her head and Diego cursed. 

"All that stuff he was saying before...  What do you think he meant by that?", Luther asked but Diego noticed for him to be quiet. 

Calmly he slithered to the door with a knife ready in his hand. He opened the door with the knife ready to be thrown but was stopped on the last moment by the owner's annoyed voice: ​​​​​​​"You. throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I'm pressin' charges!"

Diego sighed in annoyed relief and put the knife back into the sheath on his suit. "What do you want, Al?", he asked.

"I ain't your secretary.", a small old man walked into the room quickly scanning Luther and Nailah.

"Some lady called for you, said she needs your help.", Al said.

"What lady?"

"I dunno. Some, uh, detective. I think she said her name was, uh, Blotch or something."

"Patch? She needs my help."

"She needs you to meet her at that motel, a dump in Calhoun.", Al said giving Diego a note.

"When?"

"About half an hour ago. She said she found your brother."

Luther and Diego looked at each other confused. "Klaus.", Nailah saved them roaming through Diego's refrigerator.

Diego immediately ran out the door leaving Luther with a sleeping psychotic Five and Nailah who was grinning like a kid when she found a week expired ice cream.

-> The Umbrella Academy Masterlist

[jdgo51]

God Turns Gloom into Good

Today's inspiration comes from:

Whatever Happens

by Robert J. Morgan

"Last year during a speaking engagement in Tupelo, Mississippi, I checked out of my hotel and started my truck. It roared like a motorcycle with no muffler. During the night somebody had stolen my catalytic converter. I had to leave my truck behind, rent a car, deal with insurance, and send somebody back to fetch my truck. After all that, the vehicle still wasn’t working right, so I left it at the dealership while on another trip.

When I returned, I used a ride-sharing app to take me to the dealership for my truck. As I sat in the back seat, I noticed a Bible in the seat pocket. I asked the young driver about it. He said it had belonged to his dear, departed aunt, and he liked to keep it close to remind him of her. I told him he should read it. I shared some verses I’d read that morning in my own Bible.

He listened with unusual interest, so I explained from Scripture how to have a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. By the time we got to the dealership, he wanted to pray, asking God for salvation — which he did.

That’s when I understood why the Lord had allowed someone to steal my catalytic converter — it had set off a chain reaction that led to the young man’s salvation.

Bad things happen all the time, but what if you knew that every gloomy thing would lead to glorious results under the guiding providence of God?

That’s what Paul told the Philippians. They were distressed at all that had happened to him — the loss of his fourth missionary journey, his imprisonment in Caesarea, his shipwreck on Malta, and his looming trial in Rome. But Paul wasn’t gloomy in the least. He said:

Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear. — Philippians 1:12–14

This is the Philippian version of Romans 8:28, which says,

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. — NKJV

Problems can last a long time, but they can’t last forever as God’s promises do. We live in a world of catastrophes and calamities, and none of us knows what will happen next. Without God’s oversight, our futures are like scraps of paper scattering in the wind. But under His oversight, they’re like pages of hope indelibly written by grace. The Scriptures teach we have a God who turns problems inside out — all our perils and perplexities...

What if you knew that every gloomy thing would lead to glorious results under the guiding providence of God?

In Christ, we have an ironclad, unfailing, all-encompassing, God-given guarantee that every single circumstance in life will sooner or later turn out well for those committed to Him.

Perhaps something has happened to you that has taken the wind out of your sails, the bounce out of your step, the twinkle out of your eye, and the joy out of your heart. Our circumstances must bow before Jesus. We may not be able to control them, and chaos may seem to reign. But the Savior who turned water into wine and death into life can bring about a mutation, a transfiguration, a reversal, an evolution of our circumstances. The Savior can turn our circumstances into His servants for the advancement of His kingdom.

This is part of redemption.

How did Paul’s adversity serve to advance the gospel? In two ways. First, he was chained to soldiers twenty-four hours a day. He always seemed to be on good terms with the soldiers protecting him, and he shared his message with them. They were a captive audience — not only did he speak to them directly, but they heard his conversations with others and they listened as he prayed.

The imperial guard was made up of about ten thousand of Rome’s best soldiers. They served under the direct command of Nero to protect him, to provide a police presence in Rome, and to do his bidding throughout the empire. Paul’s converts among these soldiers took the gospel to far-flung regions he could never have gone himself.

What appeared to be Paul’s tragedy was really God’s strategy.

Second, Paul’s circumstances had a bracing effect on the church. We can see how this works, can’t we? When you read of the courage of a Christian facing persecution in an oppressive land — when they stand bravely for Christ despite threats and intimidations — doesn’t it encourage you to be bolder and more outspoken in your faith?

Gloomy thoughts come from the way we interpret the happenings of our lives. Paul knew that every single circumstance was under the providence, the sovereignty, and the control of Jesus Christ, who had turned an occupied tomb into an empty grave. He knew that everything worked together for the good of those who love God and are living according to His purposes. He could even see some of the benefits God was bringing about.

The things that happen to us have a divine way of actually turning out for our good and for the furtherance of the gospel. In His own way and time, the Lord reverses adversity, overrides misfortune, and dismantles the devil’s schemes.

He will do this for you."

Orison Swett Marden, Everybody Ahead: Or, Getting the Most Out of Life (New York: Frank E. Morrison Publisher, 1916), 310–312. Andrew Brunson, God’s Hostage (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2019), 208. The last word of the verse is my own paraphrase. The niv uses the word “wasteland.” Frank Laubach, Prayer: The Mightiest Force in the World (Burtyrki Books, 2020), 12 and passim. Words by Joel Hemphill Written for Devotionals Daily by Robert J. Morgan, author of Whatever Happens: How to Stand Firm in Your Faith When the World Is Falling Apart.

[savageboar]

someone stole part of my car's exhaust system can't have shit in st louis

[asterekmess]

Has Scott ever given Boyd the money he owed him in Teen Wolf Season 2? Stiles is the one who asks and pays Boyd for they keys to the ice rink because Scott wanted to go on a secret date with Allison – Stiles and Lydia went skating too, but they weren’t dating, they were just hanging out as friends and keeping Scott and Allison company – but what about Scott? He has a job he can use to at least help with paying for the things that HE wants, like Boyd’s keys

Well, I don’t think Scott owes Boyd any money? I’m not sure what you mean. Like you said, Stiles pays Boyd for the keys to the rink.

I agree that it was a bit of a weird incongruity that they showed Stiles having no job and Scott getting raises at his own job, but Stiles is the one paying for everything? He pays for gas, for the keys to the rink. He either pays for or steals those chains in S1 for Scott on the full moon.

I mean, i guess maybe they were trying to show that Scott couldn’t afford these things even with a job, while Stiles could without a job, but....that makes no sense. I’ve ranted about it like a thousand times, but Stiles and Scott are Not poor. THe whole plotline of Scott and his mother suddenly being on the verge of homelessness (I barely remember it) makes NO sense? Scott’s mother is an RN, who makes good money. I’ve done the research before and the average RN salary in the area of California that they live is above 60k a year. They’re NOT poor. Add to this Scott’s father, who is a well paid FBI agent and clearly cares about his son, so he wouldn’t be the type to skimp or shirk his Child Support payments, and they Are Not Poor. Even looking at Scott’s asthma and possible medical needs. His mother likely gets decent insurance seeing as she, ya know, works for the Hospital. It’s the same for Stiles, btw. While you could make the argument that his mother’s illness and medical bills/debt would take its toll on the family income, you have to take into account the insurance his father would have through the sheriff’s position, and how average salary for sheriff’s in that area of california is like 75k. Again. Not Poor. TW’s whole bit about two ‘broke’ kids is total bullshit. The only poor kid on that show was Boyd, and Isaac was the next closest since his dad used to be a teacher and now works/owns a cemetery, and we only knew Boyd was poor because he was the only person who lived in a house with less than two floors, whose home had bars on the window, and who lived in a Visibly Poor neighbourhood.

This isn’t to say that I don’t recognize how much Stiles gives up monetarily to help Scott. It’s not a small amount. HIs jeep is destroyed Multiple Times in the show and I doubt anyone was able to help pay for getting it fixed. Just in the beginning of S2, we hear that Stiles was going to have to pay $1,500 to get his car fixed for reasons supposedly unrelated to the supernatural stuff he’d already gone through, like getting his car battery (and the wires) ripped out, or the hood bent to shit.

Stiles gives up a lot, financially, emotionally, physically, and especially temporally.

I can’t remember where I was going with this. I hope I answered your question.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

NO ; MADS

HAPPY LOWMAN X READER

@arved asked: So... Would you write a story where you are Bishops younger sister and you ve met Happy, and starts having feelings for him... Your brother won't like it...

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gifs credits to: @mayans-mc

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You leave your car parked at the Romero and Brothers entry, looking for Chucky to tell you where Bishop's bike is. Your brother texted you last night to ask you if you could have a look at it because it started to make a noisy sound somewhere in the front wheel. Some of the guys in the crew know about mechanics, but he only trusts your hands to touch his baby, so you had to drive from Mexico. The kind man with strange hands, whom you love so much, tells you that Bishop is not there but his bike is parked next to the clubhouse. Nodding, you go downstairs off of the office, to walk through the small alley on your way to find what paranoia your brother has this time.

You run the heavy metallic door with Mayans symbols, raising an eyebrow when you see some motorbikes you don't recognize at first, but you don't give it more importance than that it has. Taking out of the pocket of your shorts the copy of the key, you walk towards the green bike with the intention of ride it to the car scrapping, when you hear a hoarse voice calling for your attention.

“To the floor! Hands up!”

Five men are pointing at you with loaded guns, following the indications of an older one without hair and covered in tattoos. He throws the toothpick, that it was in his lips, walking closer. You stop the engine without any sudden movement, and your hands on your nape. You're breathing fast, leaving the motorbike at your back.

“Call Bishop”. He says. And you don't know what disturbs you more, if the lack of gesticulation on his face or the calm tone voice.

“I'm...”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch”.

Rude.

You were going to tremendously enjoy it when your charter comes back and finds you kneeling on the ground. They try to contact your brother, but seems like he's driving, 'cause there's no answer. Even so, it takes you only two minutes to hear the motorbikes coming. Taza is the first one who sees you, braking abruptly and throwing his helmet to the floor.

“The hell you' doin' man?” He shouts, till all the Mayans appears.

“Put your fuckin' guns down!” Bishop runs out of the dark van, to help you.

“She was stealing...” The unknown man tries to say, confused and lost in the situation.

“She's my fuckin' sister!” The Mayans president is pissed off, while Taza holds your hands to put you up.

“You ok, chiquita?” He asks looking you from top to bottom.

“Not sure if I'm more scared than horny, or more horny than scared”. You answer wrinkling the bridge of the nose, your crew laughs shaking their heads.

“You hurt your knees”. Bishop sounds worried, repairing on the small burns on your legs. The concrete and gravel floor was hot, but you didn't notice it 'cause you were busy trying not to die by a gunshot.

“Bish, it's ok. I would have shot without asking”. You placed your palm on his shoulder, before Tranq lifts you up in his strong arms. “It's always an adventure to come see you”.

“I'm sorre', we didn't know”.

“Yea', did you ask her?”

“Let's take care of the Mayans' warrior”. Your savior chuckles, walking upstairs to the clubhouse.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Chibs screamed, his gaze upon the skies when he heard news of his men’s actions upon his arrival. You two know each other since your brother became president of the charter, always being a gentleman and treating you as one of his own family. But you said one hundred times that everything was fine, rolling your eyes while you were hearing him cursing in scottish. The man who pointed at you first introduced himself as Happy, and you couldn't help laughing at his name.

At least, he was fucking hot and worth it.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Night has fallen in Santo Padre and the latin music has flooded the clubhouse and its yards. The delicious smell of Felipe's meat is in the air, mixing with the laughs and shouts of the charters having a party between brothers. And there you are, lying inside the ring with your forearms behind your head looking at the stars and a beer next to your body. Turning your head to the main group of men, you check that the Son's is staring at you like ten minutes ago. You chuckle shaking your chin, putting back your gaze to the sky.

MEANWHILE

“So, wha's she doin' here'?” Chibs asks your brother, who is drinking his beer.

“I think something is happening to my bike, and she's the only one allowed to touch it”.

“Half Mayan and mechanic... Is she single?” The vice of the Sons of Anarchy asks without any shame.

“Yes, she is. But I don't want a motorist from any charter to be her man, 'you hear me?” The Mayans president is forceful, leaning forward on his seat.

“I'm too old for the club, I'm leaving it, Chibs. It was a pleasure”. Happy is the one who talks this time, and you can hear him, of course.

You can see how the man is getting up of his seat, taking off the vest to give it to the SoA president while everybody laughs except Bishop. He walks to the makeshift bar, next to the barbecue, to obtain two beers. Now, you have to hide the fact that you weren't looking at him. The older man gets inside the ring, standing up in front of you. Raising your gaze, you lift an eyebrow.

“Can 'invite you to a beer?”

“I already have one”.

Without expecting, he kicks it away from you, but you don't move a single inch rolling your eyes.

“Wasn’t pointing a gun at me enough? I think ya've already covered your aggressiveness quota for the day”.

“And I think that love was born between us when I called ya' bitch”.

“Is that what you tell to every girl?” You ask sitting on your forearms and crossing your legs, one over the other.

“I'm not a man of words”.

“You don't have to insure it, flaco”. You sigh for a second, raising a hand to take the beer he's offering you without a gesture on his face.

“So, you're Bishop young sister, uh?” He says, having a seat in front of you. After almost one minute in completely silence, he talks again taking you by surprise, even if it wasn't uncomfortable. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. I found him when I was fifteen. My parents abandoned him, before I was born”. He nods because of your words, looking thoughtful. You have a sip of your drink, waiting for him to say anything. But, that doesn't happens. “You have a lot of tattoos. Which one is your favorite?”

It's a cliche to ask about something like that, but you can't take your eyes off of them, because all that you can see around his arms and neck are traces drawing stories on him. You tattoo on your free time, so you're kinda passionate and he has truly pieces of art on his skin. Happy lifts up the grey shirt, showing you many more, before pointing the big and curled cobra on his chest and abdomen. You run your fingers over it, enraptured and your lips almost open so slowly that you can feel the way his abdomen contracts under your touch.

“Man... It's fuckin' amazing. I love the green path, but it is somewhat worn. I think I could fix it”. You say, trying to not sound too rude.

“Fix it?”

“Yea'! Addin' more color”.

“No, I mean. You tattoo?”

“I did most of the Mayans tattoos”. You nod then, with a proud gesture on your face, as he does after you. “I got my stuff in the car, if you want”.

“Sure, I would like to see what are you capable of”. He says calm, getting up off the ring and offering you his free hand, pushing you up on your way for a new adventure.

With a confidence that you don't know where it come from, he surrounds your shoulder with his arm, walking closer to you, but in complete silence. You can see your brother staring at you with his pursed lips against the beer he's holding. You pass them by, and if looks could kill, Happy would already be dead. Taking the key out of your pocket, you unlock your car to open the trunk.

“I got it”. He says going ahead, taking the heavy case full of different stickers on it.

Walking towards the clubhouse to get in, you stop your barefoot in the middle of it, looking for the best place.

Finally, you point the sofa on a corner, with a plug near of it, where you can put your machine.

“Shirt off”. You say, hearing how he chuckles almost in silence, obeying the order.

Now you're able to see many more tattoos around his back and arms. Good god, he can point a gun at you again, whenever he wants. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you prepare to mount the whole show. Your hands are cleaned with alcohol before covering them with the latex gloves, placing the ink cangs on the table by your side. The buzz of the needle floods the club, noticing that Happy doesn't feel anything when you start with the color over his lower abdomen.

You're focused in tattooing and cleaning the leftlover ink that bothers your view, even when you have a good point of light overhead. His skin is more tense than yours, being older and more tattooed, and that surprises you. The Son is getting you nervous, with his gaze on you, but not on the ink, making you raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“It's the first time a woman tattoos me”. Happy says, after some seconds looking like he's trying to find the correct words.

“'Cause you're a male chauvinist?” The needle stop, staring at him for a moment.

“'Cause I never found a woman who did it”. The smile he gives you makes you tremble slightly.

You continue with your task, stopping some times to check that the ink is uniform in every inch, till it's finished. You take a case cream tube, taking off one of your gloves, pulling it with your teeth, to put some of it on the reddened skin. Happy shakes a little, making you laugh hoping it's not because of the pain he was containing to look ‘more like a man’ and don't get embarrassed.

“Shit! It's cold!” He growls.

“Genius...” You break into loud laughter, while he snorts.

You caress his skin spreading the cream over the retouched tattoo, so slowly that you see how much he's enjoying it with a soft smile on his lips, before covering it, so that the excess ink doesn't stain the shirt when he got dressed again.

“Do you like it?” You ask with curiosity, getting up to admire your art.

“'Course, but it seems like you wanna do anotha’”.

“Seems like”. Cross-armed, you purse your lips.

“A tattoo for a kiss”. Yes, you were expecting it, making you squint at him.

Taking off the other glove and almost laying on the table, you reach your bag next to the case, looking for a cigar to light between your lips. You've seen him smoking before, so you do the same with him. Another way to keep his mouth occupied. Curling your legs on the table and surrounding them with your arms, you tilt your neck gently. He has a lot of happy faces tattooed by the cobra side. At first you think it's some kind of bad joke, until you realize it.

“You were nomad. That explain the shitty face and the holy silence”. You say having a smoke, with your gaze now on his. “A face, a life”.

The Son has an arm behind his head settled on the sofa, and you start to notice that maybe he's not good with words. But you like to read. So you do. Every gesture, for minimal that this could be on his face. His eyes vibrating, trying to keep yours. The way he has to swallow the smoke of the cigar. The skin of his throat going from up to down in a fast move. He's not ill-at-ease, but seems like he would like to hide that part of his life.

They are recent. Your fingers run over them, outlining each stroke. Those tattoos couldn’t have been more than six or eight years. The black ink was first, and looks like he added the yellow one somewhat after that. But when you're about to travel the last one, right before an old demon, he grabs your wrist. His fingers closing tight around it, loosening the grip some seconds after in a ephemeral caress that dries your mouth.

“Whatever I want?” You ask in a whisper referring to the tattoo, watching how he leaves his cigar in the ashtray next to yours.

Happy nods. Taking his right hand to place it on your, the noisy needle is back. In the ring finger, without needing a pre-design, nor anything of the session before that one, you tattoo a semicolon. Maybe bigger than you thought, but at least he's gonna see it all the time. After, you put some cream on and cover it with plastic film, you admire it one last time. So he does.

Time to pay your debt.

He puts a hand around your wrist it to urge you to lie on top of him. His legs between yours and his free hand tangled in your hair. His gaze could say more than thousands words and your eyes lost in it. Your nose brushing in a soft touch, till your lips meet his in a mild kiss with some kind of desperation. And before a last look, he tilt up his head to catch them again. Your chest laying on his, with no distance between both, breathing fast. Your tongues fighting, wetting the other, taking some air by your nose while his arms surround your hips and your hands travel to Happy's neck.

Maybe, the fact that most disturbs you is that he hasn't any intentions of fucking you, at least, not tonight. And you know it by the way he has to turn your body, lying by his side on the sofa. But the kiss doesn't stop, till he decides to attack your neck. You bite your inner lip, pressing a hand on his head to pull him closer, while his teeth drags on your skin before licking and suck it. He's making his own tattoo, even if it's gonna disappear in some days. And you can't help a gasp that escapes from deep in your throat.

Somebody knocks on the door.

“Happy, we should go”. His prospect's voice sounds behind it.

The man snort against your skin, pulling himself away some inches to admire his own piece of art, before bite your lips back.

“Happy?”

“I'm old but not deaf!” He shouts, turning to the door for a second.

“Sounds like Cali is calling”. You chuckles, getting comfy between his arms to enjoy the last seconds together.

“Next time, it will be permanent”. He replies referring to the hickey on your neck.

Leaving you alone in the sofa, he gets up to dress his shirt and take his stuff to keep it in a pocket. Happy leans toward you, placing one hand on the headrest, to kiss you one last time with some dearly that overwhelms you. Then, he leaves the club, with his eyes on the tattooed finger.

It takes you a minute to get up, being somewhat recovered, walking towards the wood railing outside to watch how he's wearing the Sons of Anarchy vest. Your brother comes next to you, adopting the same position but without his gaze on you.

“Did you fuck him?”

“I tattooed him”. You answers with a smooth smile on your lips.

“I don't know which one is worst”. Bishop sighs shaking his head, before turning at you. “He was a nomad”.

“So do I”.

“Es diferente, (Y/N)”. (It's different).

“Yea', él lo hizo por dinero. Yo lo hago por placer”. (Yea', he made it for money. I do for pleasure).

“¿Cómo lo sabes?” (How do you know it?)

“Porque sus tatuajes están rellenos de amarillo”. ('Cause he got the yellow on his smileys).

Bishop bow his head with a heavily snort drowning in his mouth, before licking his inner lip. “I can't lose you”.

“You will not. Maybe he was the reason I was looking for, to settle”.

“A man that pointed you with a loaded gun and called you ‘bitch’”?

“A man you can trust in. Don't you?”

You got it. You've caught him.

Your eyes flies to Happy, turning around to look at you with his shitty face, before getting inside the van that his prospect drives.

[princessjungeun]

Sunshine on A Cloudy Day: Sana x Reader

tw// chronic illness, hospitals, needles, mention of cancer

it’s a high school au btw

this is based on my personal experience. pls be respectful as it wasn’t easy for me to write this :)

Your alarm played through your room, waking you up immediately. You pressed snooze at least seven times before actually getting up and dressing yourself for the long day that was to come.

You pulled on your favorite t shirt and pajama pants before tugging on a sweatshirt. You checked the time before packing your bag, making sure to add your laptop and phone along with their chargers, snacks, socks, favorite stuffed animal, and a few extra school assignments.

By the time you made it downstairs your mom was already waiting for you. Quickly she handed you an apple and muffin to eat on the car ride.

“Okay sweetie I have a meeting this morning from 8 until 11. I’ll bring you lunch, just text or call and tell me what you want.” Your mother spoke not taking her eyes off the road as she drove.

Your mom pulled out her wallet and handed you two familiar cards, telling you to tuck them away until someone inside asked for them.

“Alright sweet girl I’ll be back soon, if they have any issues call me and I can sort it out.” Your mom kissed your forehead before letting you out the car, watching you walk inside before driving away.

Your feet felt heavy as the familiar smell of saline and disinfectant filled your nose. You grabbed a disposable mask off the lobby desk and put it on.

As you started to walk towards the elevator a woman called after you “maam!”

You turned around and pulled down the mask “don’t worry I’m still a minor. I’m going to the 4th floor.”

The woman nodded and gave you a thumbs up with a smile before turning back to check in adults.

It was still early so not many people were in the hallways, except the emergency wing. It is always packed no matter what.

You made your way to the fourth floor hoping if you wakes slower you just wouldn’t have to go. But that wasn’t how it worked and you knew it.

When you entered the waiting room you found a seat by the window. The dull grey sky offered no source of light, leaving you to rely on the fluorescent ceiling panels for brightness.

“Miss Y/LN?” The woman at the desk called your name, waving you over.

“Good morning sweetie haven’t seen you for a few weeks now.” She smiled as she spoke her tone was calming but also happy.

She asked “you got the insurance card for me?” You nodded and handed her one of the cards waiting for her to tell you how much you owed for today’s visit.

“And you have a $30 copay today, would you like to take care of that now?” You nodded and handed her the second card your mom gave you earlier. She finished checking you in “alright they’ll call you back in a bit.”

You sat down and pulled out your phone knowing that your girlfriend was actually awake now.

Y/N: hey

Sana 💞: good morning jagi

Sana 💞: you have an appointment today right?

Y/N 💘: yeah...kinda just wanna go back home

Sana 💞: it’s okay i’ll come over after school and make it better

Y/N 💘: you don’t have to i’ll be fine, this isn’t new

Sana💞: no girlfriend obligations

Sana 💞: i’m coming and you can’t stop me

Y/N 💘: okay fine

Y/N 💘: i’ll text you later, they’re calling me back now

•

•

•

It didn’t take long for your nurse to call you back and get you situated in a treatment room. There was only one other patient along with you. It was a little girl no more than 3 years old. You didn’t know exactly what she was getting but your heart broke at the thought considering what department you were in, Cancer and Blood Disorders.

It took 3 hours for your IV bag to get delivered to your floor so you turned on the tv hoping something good was on. You settled on Moana, the only thing that wasn’t the news.

“Alright love we just got your bag, you know the drill, vitals every ten minutes for the first 30 then i’ll come every hour. We should have you out in 5 hours if everything goes well okay?” Your favorite nurse Haseul explained to you quickly what was going to happen.

You found yourself in this same spot with her every couple weeks so she knew how you liked things to go.

“So how’ve you been missy? How’s Sana?” She poked your side getting you to smile for the first time today.

You told her “she’s really good...I haven’t seen her in three weeks though. She got sick for two and she had finals this week, but today is her last one.”

Haseul checked “so you didn’t see her when she was sick right? You know you can’t be around that with your anemia.”

You nodded softly remembering why you were even in the hospital in the first place. What was once a slight iron deficiency quickly turned into a chronic anemia that couldn’t be healed with oral supplements. Doctors had no other option than to put you on infusion treatments which sucked.

Although people were definitely going through worse, especially in this department, that didn’t take away from what you dealt with. The constant fatigue, dizziness, falling asleep in class, hair loss, being malnourished, all of it a constant reminder that you weren’t like most.

“Y/N!” Haseul snapped her fingers in front of your face.

You blinked rapidly “sorry what?”

Haseul responded “it’s okay I just needed to make sure you didn’t pass out on me. I need to put on your heart monitor.” She placed the stickers on your chest before grabbing the IV kit she placed on your lap earlier.

“Alright in your hand or arm today?” Haseul knows you prefer the arm but she always asks in case you change your mind.

You simply pointed to your arm before extending it so she could access your vein. Finding your vein was no problem, as you still had a raised bump from the last time you got treatment.

“Okay...and one two- there you go.” Haseul secured the IV with a Tergaderm, which was weirdly enough your favorite part of this whole process.

She left you and cane back every ten minutes to check your vitals before disappearing to help another patient for a bit.

You ended up spending the first two hours dozing in and out of sleep, waiting for your mother to call you. Eventually you did in fact wake up, and to the smell of your favorite food.

Your mother sat in a chair next to you on her phone talking to who you assume is a coworker. Quickly she hung up the phone so she could talk to you instead.

“Hey hows it going so far?” She asked with slight concern.

You told her “ fine just sleeping to pass time that’s all.”

She smiled before handing you a bag of food hoping it’d bring some form of joy to your day.

•

•

•

You both ended up enjoying an early lunch together but unfortunately she had to leave the hospital for an emergency meeting. It wasn’t unusual for this to happen so you were used to it, she’d simply be back at the end of your appointment.

Your phone buzzed next to you, pulling your attention away from your mother’s absence.

Sana💞: how are you doing so far?

Y/N💘: it’s good. I’m watching Aladdin now :)

Sana💞: i wanna be there with you rn instead of in math class

Y/N💘: your day is almost over then you can see me

Y/N💘: think of it that way

Sana💞: yeah but i still wish i was with you

Y/N💘: soon

Sana💞: ok fine. i have to go i love you

Y/N💘: i love you too babe

Around the third hour you became irritable and ended up walking the hallways with Haseul. She was honestly the only thing that made you feel normal in this place.

When the two of you got back you were tired and worn out from the walk. It didn’t seem like a long distance to most but you definitely were feeling it.

You found your spot back in the treatment room, sitting in your chair and reclining it back. Just as you were going to close your eyes Haseul called your name.

“Y/N. You’ve got a visitor would you like her to come back?” Haseul didn’t bother to open the curtain to tell you who it was so being the curious girl you were, you allowed it.

Sana walked in with a smile on her face, it was like your sunshine on a cloudy day. It was clear she had just finished school as she was still in her uniform, and she was wearing her backpack.

“Ho- Sana? Why? How did you even get in here?” You asked her through a laugh.

Sana responded “nobody stopped me downstairs and I know you’re on this floor. The lady at the desk outside was very nice too!”

You immediately sat up, not realizing that was a bad idea given your position. Closing your eyes tight you tapped your finger on the arm rest of your chair, waiting for the dizziness to stop.

When you opened your eyes you saw Sana in front of you, a frown on her face. It broke her heart to see you, her girlfriend, in this state. You always tried to make it seem like you weren’t sick but it was very obvious that you still were no matter how much you pretended otherwise.

She placed a blanket over you before running her thumb along your face and softly saying “my baby girl...”

You smiled at her knowing it might possibly make her less sad but it didn’t do much.

She could tell you were tired so she told you “it’s fine just sleep.”

By the time you woke up it was time for you to leave. Haseul had flushed your IV and took your vitals for the last time while you were asleep.

Your mother was downstairs in the parking garage waiting for you and Sana so you could go home.

It was clear by the look on your face that you felt nauseous, a common side effect of your treatment, from the second you stood up.

Sana gathered your things and help you put on your sweatshirt and bag before you two headed downstairs.

You interlocked you’re hand with hers as you felt dizzier with every step you took. She could tell you were having a hard time but she knows how much you try to hide it. When you both made it to the car you fell asleep almost instantly.

Sana helped you to your room, quickly helping you to bed before stealing some of your clothes to wear for herself.

You sleepily held out your arms for her, a soft whimper leaving your lips. She crawled under the covers and you immediately clung to her. You were shivering as if you were standing in snow with only a bathing suit on. Your hands and fingers started turning blue, indicating you body temperature was dropping, a side effect of treatments.

Sana pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head as your fingers curled around her shirt, holding her close.

It only took ten seconds before you started sobbing into her chest. As much as you wanted to pretend you were fine and not in pain, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Breaking down in her arms you sobbed until you fell asleep. She felt terrible knowing there was nothing she could do to fix it, but she knew that you appreciated her being there for you.

You only slept for an hour before you woke up in a cold sweat. Your t shirt clung to your back as you kicked off your blankets seeking some sort of way to cool yourself down. That did little to nothing so you scrambled to the bathroom hoping cold water would do the trick.

Sana knew this was yet another side effect of your treatment, a high fever. Your cheeks burned red as you splashed your face with water in the sink. Much to your relief it worked and you were finally able to get back in bed with her.

Your girlfriend held you in her arms tight as if she never wanted to let go.

“Thank you...” You softly spoke as she drew small circles along the small of your back.

“For what?” She asked curiously.

You mumbled “everything...just everything you do for me.”

She giggled softly “you know i’d do anything for you baby.”

Mumbling softly you told her “i love you.”

She responded quickly “i love you too.”

Letting your eyes close you further melted into her embrace as she tightened her arms around you. In the back of your mind you were reminded why you always said i love you before you fell asleep. Besides the fact that you did in fact love her, but if you happened not to wake up tomorrow, the last thing she heard from you was those three words.

Nevertheless you hoped and prayed you’d wake up in the morning to see her smiling face.

[artificialqueens]

Everything Has Changed (Crystal x Gigi) - Ashley

A/N: Crystal has spent years watching her ex-best friend and next door neighbour, Gigi, rise to the top of their High School food chain, never even uttering a word to her as she waits for the bus each morning. What will happen when Crystal’s house floods and she is finds herself sleeping on Gigi’s floor for a week?

Hello again! I finally jumped on the s12 girls band wagon - hope you guys like. This plot really gave me 2013 Wattpad vibes but I decided to embrace and roll with it. Thanks sooooo much to Meggie for beta-ing! Concrit welcome. Xoxo Ashley

The day began as generic as any other for Crystal. 

A spurt of optimism filled her as she slurped down the last of her cereal and made her way outside - failing to notice the big splodge of milk that would be visible on her shirt until the fourth period. The sun was waving down on her, the slight hum of insects and the sight of her neighbour with a pair of shears at hand reminding her that spring was now in full bloom.

“Morning Crystal,” the familiar voice called over the fence.

“Morning!” She waved back at the woman who she would have once called a second mother, the auntie she had never had.

“When’s your mom back?” Maria asked as Crystal neared the end of the driveway. “I’m due a coffee date!”

“A week on Friday.” Crystal smiled back at her, remembering the days when she and Gigi used to join them on their mothers’ meetings, sipping lemonade and pretending to be sophisticated on the opposite side of the cafe. Remembering how Gigi would always make her laugh and she’d end off spitting her soda out anyway and ruining their facade.

Pulling her headphones out of her bag as she said goodbye, she looked up at the girl whose laugh was currently leaping around inside her head like a carousel, whose grinning face was a portrait in Crystal’s brain as clear as the lakes they used to play in.

Only now she wasn’t grinning quite the same.

Taking her usual seat at the bench, she glanced across at Gigi: her dark hair coiffed to perfection, her lips lined just at the right spot, her jet black beauty mark contrasting against her Snow White complexion. She was the type of girl who needed to be painted.

Their eyes met briefly, as they often did on mornings like this, Crystal darting hers away quickly in a chaotic manner and looking at her phone instead: seven twenty-seven. Her bus would be here in six minutes. Nicky would be here in three.

For a split second, she thought she felt Gigi’s eyes looking back on her but she didn’t dare look.

Instead, she tried to think of ways that she could stop herself from reading the freckles on her old friend’s arm as if they were the dictionary definition of perfection. She thought about how Gig’s mascara may have been left on from the night before, of how she’d seen the straight-A student climb out of her window and down her drainpipe like Catwoman herself to steal away into the night. Of how the Gigi she knew in reality was anything but the flawless girl that was adored around the halls.

Seven-thirty. The familiar horn rang before Gigi went to sit shotgun in her best friend’s car. Crystal let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding along with a sigh of relief that the girl was out of sight and out of mind for the day.

Or at least until they had Chemistry together in the third period.

***

“Oh my god,” Crystal spoke aloud, her body frozen for a second as she absorbed the scene in front of her.

Like something from a disaster movie, she watched as water sprayed from the enormous hole in her living room ceiling, her socks already damp through her trainers.

Her flight or fight reflexes kicking in, Crystal did the first thing her brain told her to do which was to run next door and ring their bell as many times as she could, managing to slip on her lawn and stain the knees of her jeans whilst doing so.

“Hi?” Gigi looked Crystal up and down, her nose wrinkling with curiosity as she took in the other girl’s dishevelled state, her greeting more of a question than a welcome.

“Hi.” Crystal paused, trying to think of how she could explain to Gigi that she’d simply walked through her front door after school into a foot of brown water, a smell that matched that description almost exactly, and a giant hole in the ceiling that was firing said brown water at her like an army missile.

“Can I speak to your mom?” 

***

Crystal felt her body relax slightly as she took a sip of the lemonade that was placed in front of her, a twinge of a feeling she couldn’t quite name gnawing at her when she realised that Gigi hadn’t asked what she wanted to drink, simply bringing her what had always brought comfort as a child.

She felt simultaneously overwhelmed and comforted by the sight around her, Gigi sitting in her usual seat as her hands toyed with the couch cushions. Only now an elephant sat between the pair of them, an awkward silence taking over every last air molecule in the room.

Memories flooded back to her as she let her eyes wander: the mantlepiece she had chipped her tooth on, the doors they would prance through as they pretended to be contestants on America’s Next Top Model once everyone was asleep.

Crystal felt her hands starting to sweat, rubbing them against her jeans rather frantically. She’d always managed to cope on a morning or in school - sure, sometimes the sight of Gigi sent her into a spiral of self-doubt and questions, but it was never something completely out of her control, never something that bothered her to such a great extent.

Maybe it was that she’d lost the privilege of her headphones to distract her from her past.

Maybe it was how familiar her surroundings were.

Maybe it was how natural it had first felt as she sat in Gigi’s living room.

Just as she heard the other girl start to speak, attempting to cut the tension that wrapped around the pair of them like thick green vines, they were saved by Maria entering the room again, phone in hand.

“So, your hot water tank has burst!” She looked at Crystal and let out a frustrated laugh. “The plumbers are starting to clear up now but they think it’s going to take a full week. I’m sorry sweetie. I’ve called your Mom and she’s happy for you to stay here with us and is going to try to leave her conference early.”

Maria went on to talk about getting essentials after the day’s work was finished and the logistics of their insurance but it soon became a gust of wind that swept right over Crystal’s head.

“I don’t need to say here, don��t worry!” Crystal smiled at Maria, grateful for her generosity but feeling the prick of tears at the back of her eyes daring to fall. Her eyes looked absolutely anywhere but at Gigi. “I can always go visit my family in Missouri for a week, I haven’t seen them for a while.”

“I dunno how your mom would feel about you missing a week of school, this is senior year now.” Maria placed a tentative hand on Crystal’s, clearly sensing the anxiety that was shooting out of her like flaming arrows. “Don’t stress! Think of it as one long week-long sleepover. Just like old times!”

Crystal couldn’t tell if she was trapped in heaven or hell but she knew one thing for sure, it wouldn’t be like old times.

***

Crystal found it strange how Gigi’s bedroom was so similar to how it was when they were younger, yet simultaneously different in certain, striking ways.

The antithesis to Crystal’s walls of clutter, Gigi’s room had always been pristine and that hadn’t changed. Placed on her dressing table were framed photos of her and her friends, one of her and Nicky catching Crystal’s eye.

She’d never grown close to Nicky. Even though a part of Crystal disliked her for the shit music she blasted from her sports car and for stealing away her best friend - the other, more loving side of her told her that Nicky didn’t really seem to have a bad bone in her body and that she must be fun if Gigi was so fond of her.

Crystal always found herself trusting Gigi’s judgement even though they were no longer friends, even though that judgment was cast badly upon herself.

Her eyes made their way to the other side of the room, a warm, fuzzy feeling taking over her body as she looked at Gigi’s huge world map that hung in front of her.

Pink pins for where she’d been and blue pins for where she wanted to go. Missouri caught her eye, bright pink straight away, Crystal remembering how excited Gigi had been to change its colour after she had joined one of her visits home in the holidays, how interested she was in exploring the lakes that raised Crystal. She knew Gigi would always be an explorer, it was just a shame that she was no longer the trusty navigator that bounced by her side.

Before she knew it, her hands were running across the books on Gigi’s shelves, stopping on her worn-out copy of Emma.

She never hated Gigi for the fact they were not friends anymore. She knew it happened to loads of pairs like themselves, that it’s natural to drift apart at high school and find different interests. Crystal often prided herself on being mature and understanding, knowing that sometimes there were deeper things in other people’s minds that she just had to accept. Yet at that moment, she couldn’t deny that the sight of the last birthday present she had bought for Gigi sitting front and centre, it’s pages worn and dog-eared, happened to sting that tiny bit.

“It’s not a museum,” Gigi snapped at her from across the room, only for her own face to fall a little when she saw Crystal’s - the slap of instant regret bright red on her cheeks.

“Sorry.” She moved over to the bookshelf, pulling the copy out and holding it in her manicured hands as though it were made of papier-mache. “Can you remember I used to take it out at the library so much? You gave it to me and told me it was so I never had to hide it to stop anyone else borrowing it anymore.”

Crystal’s heart dipped a whole centimetre in her chest.

Of course she remembered.

Silence enveloped the pair yet again as Crystal’s makeshift bed was constructed on the floor, a look on Gigi’s face that Crystal couldn’t quite piece together. 

Trying to fight the awkwardness, Crystal pulled out her phone and began to scroll down her Instagram feed aimlessly, no one she could message even springing to her mind.

“Oh my god, we cannot do this all week,” Gigi blurted out what she’d been trying to contain all in one breath, causing Crystal to laugh at the girl’s inability to remain silent for any given period of time. And before she knew it Gigi was laughing too, the pair almost automatically falling back into that lull that once fell so naturally. Chatting more and more naturally as the drama of Top Model made up their background music.

There, underneath the plastic demeanour, was Crystal’s old best friend.

***

At first, Crystal didn’t know where she was when she woke up, her body feeling awkward in her jeans. But her confusion slid away at the sight of Gigi at her dressing table, applying the daintiest amount of blush to her pale cheeks.

Looking down she realised she was in Gigi’s bed rather than the one made up for her on the floor, assuming that she must have drifted off whilst watching their show.

“Good morning, camper.” Gigi raised an eyebrow in her mirror and grinned, never fully turning around to look at Crystal.

“Morning.” She stretched her arms in the air, the fact that Gigi must have tucked a blanket around her whilst she slept hitting her like a tonne of bricks. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past seven.”

“Oh. That’s no good!” Crystal jumped out of the bed and began rummaging through her case quite rapidly, Gigi chuckling under her breath at the way Crystal worked as a poster girl for the chaotic good character, clearly seeing some form of adorable in the other girl’s frustration.

Pulling a leopard print shirt out of her bag, Crystal quickly removed yesterday’s jumper and spruced herself up for the day ahead, finding some blue jeans to match and throwing them on whilst Gigi carried on with her makeup in the mirror, her eyes flickering back and forth.

“I think my Mom made some breakfast if you have time. Nicky’s coming for me soon…” She trailed off almost in a defensive way, her eyes glossing back down to the palette in front of her.

“Yeah,” Crystal responded, not sure on what she was agreeing with, before starting to pack her bag for the day. “I don’t want to miss the bus, I guess I’ll see you later.”

Maybe things hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought.

***

“Ugh.” Crystal found herself longing to throw her pencil across the room in a fit of rage as she failed the seventh time to do the chemical equation in front of her.

“You know, I’m currently sitting at an A in Chemistry.” Gigi waved her hands in the air at the girl from her bed, dog-earing the corner of her book and casting it aside.

“I don’t need you to do my work for me!” Crystal squealed as she moved the paper away from Gigi’s peeping eyes, determined to finish the question.

This was now her third night in the Goode household and she was starting to scare herself at how easily she fell back into place with Gigi when no one else was around. They had spent the past few days catching each other up on their lives, watching crap TV and just being together.

It was safe to say that Crystal was starting to see the beams of a happier Gigi shine through the cracks, a Gigi who wasn’t afraid to be rough around the edges. 

But her hopes were kept low each morning when they parted their usual ways at the social jungle of their high school.

“I’m not saying I’ll do it for you, I’ll just help.” Gigi moved closer and Crystal could feel the warmth of her body on her own. The tiniest contact sending her brain in circles.“Besides, I did this three days ago; I don’t know why you’re hiding the questions.”

“Okay, but only if we do something fun after.”

“Actually.” Gigi paused and gave Crystal the grin of an excited puppy. “I have the perfect game to make up some lost time.”

***

“I’ll start.” An idea popped into Crystal’s head as she turned to face Gigi with excitement. “Number one: where do you go when you sneak off in the middle of the night?”

“Do you spy on me?” Gigi opened her jaw wide, causing Crystal to go into panic mode before releasing she was simply playing. “Sometimes it’s to meet people by the quarry and have a drink. Sometimes I just like to go get some fresh air alone.”

Crystal could sense she wasn’t getting a full answer but didn’t want to pry, preparing herself for what she’d be asked.

“Hmm.” Gigi giggled to herself as she gave Crystal a once over. Crystal could almost see the lightbulb pop out of her pretty little head when she thought of a question. “Number two: do you think Mr. Charles has a crush on you?”

Taking Crystal by surprise, it took her a minute to gain her composure. “What sort of question is that?”

“A genuine one!” Gigi tried to pull a straight face. “I see the way he’s always staring at you, putting his hand in your hair when he checks your work.”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting.” Crystal smacked the other girl with a pillow resulting in the biggest scene of dramatics she’d witnessed since their school’s production of Les Mis.

The questions began to roll one after the other, starting off as fun and light-hearted.

“Where do you even sit at lunch?”

…

“Pasta or pizza?”

….

“When did you lose your virginity?”

….

“Was Poland as good as you thought it would be?”

…

“Do you remember our time capsule?”

…

But as the sky outside started to darken, their subject matter deepened. It has reached that time of night where boundaries dilapidated and unbreached territory began to be uncrossed.

“Number 10.” Crystal paused, building up the courage to finally breach the topic the pair has shied away from all week. “Was it because everyone called me a dyke? Is that why we’re not friends?”

Crystal watched as her friend winced - wishing so much that she could just pretend that period had never occurred and never to speak about it, but knowing that it was a bridge both she and Gigi needed to cross and it would be much better if they could cross it together, stopping each other from falling between the jagged planks.

“Partly, yeah.” Gigi nodded and looked Crystal in the eyes.

Really, really looked into her eyes.

“I don’t think I thought that at the time, I told myself we just had different interests. But I think that sometimes I just get so caught up in what people think about me, I get lost in what’s right and wrong. I’ve just always wanted to be ‘perfect.’ I lost sight of what that even meant. But I never, ever cared what you thought about me. Not in that way, at least…” She trailed off and Crystal placed a comforting hand over hers, letting her know that she was loved. “I’m so sorry.” A single tear fell down her face. The first time Crystal had seen her cry since they were seven. “Do you hate me?”

“No.” Crystal squeezed her hand tighter.

It was the truth. Even though sometimes she wanted to, she couldn’t have ever hated Gigi even if she tried. 

She knew that her actions were wrong, she knew that she couldn’t make excuses for not being there, for not trying to stop it. She knew that things wouldn’t magically click back to how they used to. But she also knew that Gigi was sorry.

Scars took time to heal.

And they’d still be visible even once they had.

But people say they only make someone stronger.

“If I was you, I think I’d hate me. Feel free to slap me if you want.”

“Do you really want me to slap you?” Crystal raised an eyebrow to the girl.

“No.” Gigi sighed. “And you just wasted your question.”

“Fuck sake.” Crystal found herself blushing for no apparent reason. She guessed that Gigi just brought out the nervous side of her sometimes.

“Number thirteen: what does your tattoo say?” 

Crystal was a deer in the headlights.

Her tattoo - the most genius yet idiotic idea she’d ever had in her life.

Aged 16, still reeling in that high you get from a gig with a fake ID at the ready.

Somewhere nice and hidden where hardly anyone would see, figuring she’d never have to explain it to anyone she wasn’t intimate with, always having the open option to lie about it’s meaning to save embarrassment.

But Gigi had seen it.

She thought of the past few days when they’d both been getting ready for school.

Never really processing it herself, she had peaked at Gigi’s body - slight glances at the way her ribs and clavicle jutted out through her skin.

She didn’t realise Gigi had been looking back.

“One Direction,” she responded after what was probably a longer than socially-acceptable pause.

“One Direction?” Gigi exclaimed back, wrinkling her nose and opening her mouth wide at the girl.

“Yes.” Crystal replied seriously, trying to stop the laugh from slipping through her lips. “One Direction.”

“That is weird on so many levels, Crystal.” Gigi shook her head and started to laugh. “You mean to tell me that when you sit on the bench with that unapproachable look on your face wearing black eyeliner thicker than your wrists, you’re blasting Truly, Madly, Deeply from your headphones?”

“Yep,” she simply stated. Strangely it had never occurred to her before that as she made hidden glances at Gigi each morning, Gigi was taking them back just the same.

“Crystal Elizabeth Methyd, you never fail to surprise me.”

***

“You don’t need to feel bad about leaving me, I’ve got stuff to do,” Crystal pleaded as Gigi scavenged through her closet like an excited child with their first-ever Barbie doll.

It was Thursday night and the end of Crystal’s impromptu vacation in the Goode household. Her typical night consisted of homework, pizza, and reading old fan-fiction until four AM.

Gigi had different ideas.

“How many parties have you been to in high school?”

“None,” Crystal answered, not even attempting to slip out a lie.

“Exactly,” Gigi replied before settling on a pink latex dress and throwing it in Crystal’s direction.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about me missing out, I’ve never wanted to and we have school tomorrow!” Crystal examined the dress, her eyes widening at the thought of how much skin it would show.

“Maybe I just want you there.” Gigi stopped as she settled on her own dress. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

Crystal didn’t need to be told twice.

“Fine.” She responded, resulting in some excited squealing and hand-clapping from the other side of the room. “But I just can’t wear this.”

“Sure you can, just undo the zipper, step into it, put your arms through the sleeves and do it back up again. It’s not that hard. I can help if you’d like?”

Crystal tried hard not to give her the satisfaction of a laugh but once again failed. “You know what I meant.”

“At least try! I spent good money on that and it hangs off my body. You’ve got the curves to fill it at least.”

Trying her hardest not to blush, Crystal gave in and tried the dress on, surprising herself at how good it actually looked.

“See!” Gigi motioned her hands up and down at Crystal’s body. “I know these things.”

It was safe to say that Crystal was waiting for the day she’d win one of her verbal battles with Gigi Goode. Yet she was never really that annoyed when she lost them.

***

Although a small part of her wished she was curled up in bed with a bag of M&Ms watching a movie, Crystal was enjoying herself. 

Yes, she had spent the majority of the night by Gigi’s side, dancing like idiots and watching people hook up, but she still found herself branching out in smaller ways, taking as many steps as her size fives could - partly because she wanted to and partly because of the smile she saw on Gigi’s face as she conversed with Nicky and the other girls. Although still sceptical around them, Crystal was happy finding common ground with Gigi’s friends, even seeing a goofy side of Nicky that she didn’t even know was there.

Distracted by her thoughts, she hadn’t even realised there was someone next to her at the punch bowl until he spoke.

“Have we met?” He looked Crystal up and down with a smile.

Yes, she thought to herself. We have around 10 hours of class together each week. But being polite and trying her hardest to make friends she didn’t dare say that aloud. “I think I’ve seen you around, I’m Crystal.”

“Josh.” He took her hand and shook it, holding on for maybe a second longer than normal. “Bit less exciting than Crystal.”

“My mom was really into Pokemon during her pregnancy,” she responded. However, before her joke could be processed she felt the red punch from the boy’s hand splash across her front.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He looked at Crystal apologetically before rushing to grab a dishtowel. “I hope I’ve not stained your dress.”

“It’s Gigi’s so I think you’d be feeling her wrath rather than mine.” Crystal went to reach for the towel only for the boy to start wiping away at her front.

“Oh, I can do that.” She went to swat his hand away when they were interrupted by a familiar cough.

“God, Gigi, you ought to keep that one on a leash.” One of her friends muttered under their breath, just loud enough for Crystal to hear and take a step backwards.

She watched her friend’s face turn at the sight, watched her mouth open and close twice before she spoke. “Do you mind moving away from my friend?”

“Gigi, it’s fine,” Crystal responded as the boy she was talking to leapt away from her and raised his hands in the air. “I can handle myself.”

“Nicky will drop you off home.” She ignored Crystal’s words before turning to leave the room. “I think I’m gonna walk.”

“Wait.” Crystal shouted after her as she made her exit, just the two of them standing in the large foyer, Gigi haphazardly raking around for her snakeskin jacket. “I was just being friendly, I don’t see the problem.”

“That’s because you’re naive. You let people take advantage of you.” Gigi turned to face Crystal, finally finding her jacket and slinging it over her thin frame. 

“Or maybe you’re just a jealous bitch who can’t deal with the attention being on someone else for a second.” Crystal spat back at her, shocking herself with her words.

It was a word that had floated around a lot since Gigi became popular but it had never quite reached the surface. She knew Gigi wasn’t a bitch - remembering the time she spent seven hours making her a friendship bracelet in all her favourite colours, the time they went to the theme park and they rode all the scary rides even though Gigi was terrified of them, just so her friend would be happy. She knew her intentions were good in scaring the boy away, a part of her just wished that Gigi would stop looking at her like the lost puppy she was in freshman year. But that’s what came out of her mouth, and she couldn’t take it back now.

She watched Gigi stop in her tracks. Bending down and resting her body on the shoe rack below her.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal went to join her side. “I didn’t mean that. I know you mean the best, I just don’t need you to defend me.”

“You’re right,” she spoke, clear frustration seeping from somewhere deeper than their current argument, a small crack in her voice. Once again Crystal had hit the wall in Gigi that she was yet to break down. “I just want you to understand.”

“Then help me to.” Crystal reached a hand out to her, squeezing, once, twice.

At first, she remained still, but Crystal then saw the switch flip. Gigi squeezed back.

“I need to steal a shovel.”

***

The sky around the pair was still dark, their two phone torches shining down on the route that their feet had danced across so many times.

Although Crystal knew that they should probably wait till morning and that Maria would probably realise they were gone, she didn’t want to sacrifice Gigi opening up to her, her heart beating faster and faster as they walked through the meadow.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still another six years till we’re supposed to dig this up.” Crystal shivered, the side effects of the punch she drank starting to wear off. “I can’t believe Gigi Goode is voluntarily breaking rules!”

“Shut up.” She gave Crystal a friendly punch before taking off her coat and wrapping it around her friend’s shoulders, Crystal still feeling a pang of guilt for the way she spoke to Gigi at the party, knowing that she had been nothing but kind to her the past week they had lived together.

“Here.” Crystal stopped, pointing at the signpost marking their spot, remembering the day they buried their time capsule as if it were yesterday.

***

“Is this a report card?” Crystal laughed as she shone her torch at the paper in front of her.

“Oh my god, yes!” Gigi took the paper in her hands. “I didn’t want my Mom to find out I got a C in music class.”

“Classic Gigi.” Crystal sighed.

Pulling out the friendship bracelet she had made years before, Gigi gasped before grabbing Crystal’s arm and sliding it on. “As if it still fits.”

As the girls waded their way through cinema tickets and keyrings, they found themselves falling back into their old selves more and more - getting lost in conversation as the night faded away and the sun started to rise.

“I don’t remember this being in here.” Crystal pulled out a photograph of the pair of them in Missouri, aged fourteen, grinning like idiots on Crystal’s grandma’s porch.

Flipping it over, she recognised Gigi’s sophisticated scrawl on the back::

This week I finally got to go with Crystal when she visited home. It was so amazing because I hate it so much when she isn’t here, nothing is fun. When I’m with Crystal I don’t have to be perfect - I wish we could grow old together, just the two of us in our own land away from everyone else, everything would be so, so much easier.

There was more but Crystal stopped, looking up to her best friend’s nervous face to realise it was blurry. She hadn’t even realised she was crying.

“Crystal.” Gigi wiped her tears away with her thumb, only leaving her hands on her friend’s cheeks once she was done.

They were freezing yet it made Crystal’s whole body burst up in flames.

Crystal thought of all the sleepless nights and daydreams where she’d pictured this moment.

Somehow it was better than all of them combined.

Their lips touched, soft at first, gentle, afraid to hurt each other. Then their kiss grew deeper, it was hungry, passionate, it had been locked in a cage for years and years only finally to be released.

Crystal didn’t know how long they’d been kissing for when Gigi pulled away, but she wouldn’t have minded if it had been forever.

“I was scared. A scared girl who pushed you away instead of accepting who I was. It’s more, Crystal, you know it’s more. It’s always been more.”

Crystal nodded, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders as she carried on her choked sentences.

“This past week, as corny as it sounds I didn’t just find you again, I found the old me.”

“Well, we’re both here to stay,” Crystal whispered before pulling the girl into another embrace which somehow dared to be better than their last. “Come on, you’re shivering, let’s get you home.”

***

Crystal woke with the sun beaming through the window, her body perfectly entwined with Gigi’s.

At first, she thought she had dreamt it: their kiss at the meadow, the way she went to sleep on the floor and felt Gigi’s arm drop down from her bed, her breasts soft as silk and her moans sending Crystal insane. 

But the way Gigi’s head nestled into her collarbone told her she hadn’t.

She wanted to freeze the moment in a frame and relive it forever - the fear hitting her that Gigi would act cool like it was no big deal.

She lay a kiss on her head before making her way for a shower - the first time all week that she hadn’t woken up to Gigi perfecting her makeup or already dressed- the perfect girl’s routine thrown out the window as she lay in bed.

After returning from the shower, she noticed Gigi was awake, rushing to get ready.

“C’mon.” She looked Crystal up and down. “We’ll be late.”

***

Crystal’s palms became heavy with sweat as she sat next to Gigi on the bench. 

Maybe she regretted it. Maybe it was some sort of sick joke. Why hadn’t she spoken about it? Was she being off with her, or was she just tired?

Crystal felt sick, checking her phone for the time: seven twenty-five.

She couldn’t wait till Nicky got here, the sight of Gigi’s face next to her sending her brain into spirals of existentialism.

She thought about this time on Monday. How much had changed in a week? Or in reality how much it had gone back to the way it was before.

Whatever would happen next she just thanked God/the man who fitted her water heater that at least it happened - the love bite on her neck marking that no one could take this away from her.

Maybe Gigi would go further in denial - Crystal watched her as she tapped her foot on the ground.

“Are you not gonna give me a headphone?” Gigi smiled at her, snapping Crystal’s mind of doubt back to reality, feeling Gigi’s hand fall onto her thigh. “I fancy some One Direction.”

Pulling her phone out in excitement, Crystal’s mood quickly dipped back as she read the time: seven twenty-nine.

“Nicky will be here for you in a minute.” She gave a disheartened smile and put her phone back in her pocket.

“Oh.” Gigi moved her hand over the top of Crystal’s and grinned. “I told her not to come, figured I ought to get the bus today.”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Getting away with it (2/?)

Summary: August Walker was dead. At least that’s what people believed for almost 2 years. When the CIA found reason to believe that he was alive they made it their top priority to find him. Including sending one of their best female agents to recruit his twin brother. Walter Marshall.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (Walker) + Walter Marshall x Reader (Walker)

Warnings: none yet

Wordcount: 2.457

A/N: We’re slowly getting started with the plot. Hope you like it :)

Masterlist

Part 1

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc / @theolsdalova / @greenmanalishi / @itsmydreamlifethings / @palaiasaurus64 / @celestial-vomit / @penwieldingdreamer/ @notyourtypicalrose / @babypink224221 / @fanficsrusz / @solariumss / @starlite13 / @ly–canthrope / @mytbel0st / @oddsnendsfanfics / @ravenpuff02 / @sofiebstar / @chamomilebottom / @keiva1000 / @agniavateira / @peaceinourtime82 / @dearlybelovedluke / @vania-marie / @wildwavehc / @fcgrizi / @mary-ann84 / @ayamenimthiriel / @radaofrivia / @ohjules/ @omgkatinka / @xceafh /  @diehadess / @watermeloncavill

@its-jb86 / @singeramg / @mrrightismrreeves / @mis-lil-red  (I can’t tag you guys. Sorry)

Cemetery, Langley, Virginia, 2 years ago

It was a rainy day. The skies hang dark, the rain pouring down. A typical day for a funeral. But then again it really wasn’t a funeral in the least. August watched the few people that were standing around an empty grave from his hiding spot behind a tree. He could see the silhouette of his wife who was holding Evie close. He couldn’t see her face, and knowing her she wouldn’t be shedding a tear for him. 

She didn’t understand why he had to do, what he was still planning on doing. Making the world a better place for the next generation. His daughters generation.

Ever since he knew he would be a father August did everything with his daughters best interest in mind. Even if it meant lying to Walker about it. Knowing her she would be furious at him for his lies. He knew her like the back of his hand, she would blame herself for everything that happened before she would finally blame him.

But who really was to blame was the world. Their corrupt leaders. The politics. The weak people who didn’t stand up for themselves. That was why he wanted to steal those plutonium cores. So only the strong survived. Like him. His wife. His daughter.

Evie would make a great leader one day, he was sure of it.

“We have to go.” A voice whispered behind him, making his head snap over his shoulder, glaring at one of his remaining members.

“I’ll find you at the drop point.” August nearly growled.

“Yes Sir.” The man stammered, walking away immediately. 

August didn’t know when or if he would see his family ever again. So he watched them for a couple minutes more as they were standing around the empty grave, silently saying goodbye, before he turned around and left them for good.

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“You tell me, Agent Walker, that you didn’t know your husband was the leader of a terrorist group? And you call yourself CIA…” The older Agent mocked.

“Like I told you the last 15 times. I haven’t seen August in almost 3 months before he died. Yes I recognized that his behaviour changed, that he stayed out longer, that he changed the passwords of his devices. But honestly? I was thinking he was having an affair. I would have prefered if he had an affair. What would you think if your wife suddenly stayed out longer? Would your first thought be that she must surely be leading a terrorist group?” Walker asked. The older Agent crossed his arms in front of his chest as he looked down at her. It was her fourth constant day of being interrogated. And she didn’t have any answers. She knew this was frustrating for the CIA, but it was even more frustrating for her.

She had been allowed a week for herself after news broke of the attack. She had brought Evie over to her Mom’s place and had spent the whole night drinking in front of the TV watching the news. She kept looking down at her wedding ring. Remembering the day she agreed to be his wife so detailed, she wanted to drink until she forgot it. Forgot what happened. 

Walker knew August had been hiding something. It was in the year Evie was born that he had started to change. He kept being on the phone instead of talking to her. The only time he really was present was when he was taking care of Evie. He was a good father. That probably was the reason she kept her mouth shut, when he snapped at her. She could see how sorry he was after he yelled at her after every single time. 

“I’m doing all I’m doing for your and Evie. I want you to live your life in safety.” 

The sentence kept repeating in her head. It was what he always said when they had another argument. When his arms were wrapped around her and he was kissing her head. After they had sex and he was pressed against her back, his leg over hers, his hand beneath her head. She always felt safe in his arms. She would probably even forgive him if he had a simple affair. But when three weeks ago the CIA was contacted with the real identity of John Lark, and she was sent to London to get through to him…

She would never forget the look in his eyes. How he looked right through her as she talked to him.

“August please. You know this will end with you dead. You know that. There is no way you can escape the CIA. There will be no place on this planet they won’t search for you.” Walker pleaded, standing across from him. August breathed in deep, his whole posture on edge.

“Please leave now.” August growled.

“What should I tell Evie, hm? When she asks about her father? Should I tell her he’s a insane terrorist who wants to kill a third of the world's population?” Walker asked.

“I’m doing this for her.”

“Yeah… You keep saying that, but do you believe it?” Walker reached for her gun. 

“You really think you can shoot me?” August mocked.

“Someone has to.” Walker breathed.

“How will you tell Evie that you murdered her Father?” He asked.

“I will make sure that she won’t remember you.” 

An explosion had interrupted their argument, giving August the perfect chance for his escape. Walker had met with Ethan after she had gotten out, telling him everything that could help him to take August down. With which he had apparently succeeded. Or so he thought.

“You will be helping us to get every detail of his life. We need to be prepared for what’s coming.” The older Agent said.

“I already told you everything I know.”

“You have to tell us about your daughter.”

“Absolutely not.” Walker shook her head.

“There is no room for argument her, Agent Walker.”

“You will leave my two year old daughter, who just lost her father out of this. Me you can have. I don’t care what you do with me. But Evie? No way.”

Minneapolis, Minnesota, now

“She’s not going to bite my finger?” Evie asked concerned, looking up at Walker. Grinning Walker knelt down next to ther.

“She’s not going to bite your finger. Look at her. She just wants that yummy lettuce you are holding.” Walker explained, earning a sigh from her Daughter. They had spend the whole day at the zoo and Evie had been so excited to feed the giraffe. Until she was standing in front of it. 

“Hmm…. ‘kay.” Evie said. Walker chuckled as she got back on her feet again, Evie clutched her hand as she slowly walked towards the giraffe. Walker nodded thankful at the keeper. Holding out the lettuce in front of her, Evie stepped closer to the giraffe who immediately spotted her snack and bend closer, her big tongue grabbing the lettuce from Evie, making her giggle.

“That… tickles.” The little girl giggled excited.

“See? And all your fingers are still there.” Walker smiled, making Evie breathe out relieved.

“Can we do that again?” She asked.

“Next time. If I remember correctly we have a date with the water slide at the hotel…”

“YAY!” Evie jumped

However these plans were interrupted when Walker got back to the space she parked her rental car in, finding it nowhere to be seen. She remembered exactly where she parked the car. 

“Motherf….” She cursed, stopping as she looked at Evie.

“Where is our car?” Evie asked confused.

“I’ve been just asking myself the same question, Buttercup.” Walker sighed. She was already reaching for her phone, calling 911. After a quick call to the local police station Walker had to come clear that her rental car had been stolen. Calling an Uber to the police station she waited while Evie was collecting Daisies on the side of the road. 

“What are you doing?” Walker asked. There was no point in getting upset over the stolen car. That was what insurances were for. It’s not like she couldn’t change it.

“Making you a Daisy crown.” Evie laughed.

With a bag full of collected daisies they stepped inside the police station. Evie was holding her mother's hand in a tight grasp, being intimidated by all these big men walking around her. Evie only really knew her grandfather and Uncle Miller, how she called Agent Miller. Ever since August died Walker hadn’t been involved with anyone. Too afraid of getting hurt again. Walker was just about to tell the police man in front of her why she was here, when she heard her name being called. A shiver ran through her body when she heard that voice. How could she have forgotten that he could be here. Looking down at Evie who was hugging her leg, she thought of what to do when Marshall made his way over to her.

“What brings you here?” Marshall asked, nodding to the other police officer who excused himself.

“It looks like my rental car has been stolen. We came here straight from the zoo.” She smiled uncomfortably, her hand coming down on top of Evie’s head. Evie was looking up at Marshall with a frown. Like she was trying to figure out where she knew him from.

“Well that su…” Marshall looked down at Evie, clearing his throat. “That’s not good.” He continued making Walker nod her head, sucking in her bottom lip to keep herself from laughing.

“Yeah. We had a date with a water slide, didn’t we Evie?” Walker asked. Evie nodded. Marshall got down on his knees to look at Evie. Walker held her breath, trying to control the numerous feelings inside her body as she watched the two of them. It seemed so familiar, yet so different. Even if August and Marshall were twins, the way Marshall smiled at Evie, holding out his hand which Evie took hesitantly to shake. Marshall looked up at Walker, his hair a wild mess on top of his head, a small smile on his face. Swallowing she sighed.

“You have the same hair as I do. Mommy always says I got them from my Daddy.” Evie said, her hand hesitantly reaching out towards Marshall but not really touching him.

“Really?” Marshall asked. Evie nodded.

“He died when I was littleler.” Evie shrugged, hugging Walkers leg closer.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Marshall said to her, then looking up at Walker.She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. He got up from his knees, his musky smell with a hint of aftershave getting to Walkers nose. When she opened her eyes and looked up at him she could see the sympathy in his. For a little moment she let herself get lost in his eyes, recognizing the many things that were different from August, finding so much sadness in them that seemed to mirror her own she had to shake her head after a while to look away from him.

“Let’s see if we can find your car.” Marshall said quietly. 

Sitting in his office Walker knew he was about to find out who she really was, and possibly who she had been married to. Chances were that he already knew who August was. His face had been spread over the news for weeks after the incident. Thankfully her name and Evie’s were never brought up.

“You wanna draw something while we do this grown up stuff, Evie?” Marshall asked. Evie nodded excited as she sat in the chair next to Walker, already reaching for the pencil Marshall handed her, getting right into drawing, oh wonder, a bunny. Chuckling Walker looked from her to Marshall.

“She’s obsessed with bunnies.” She said, making Marshall smile a little.

“I remember Faye being obsessed with bunnies too when she was that age.”

“You have a daughter too?”

“Yeah. She’s living with her mother.” Marshall swallowed, looking away from Walker to type into his computer.

“Now… I need your full name and address.” He said.

“You sure you have time for this? How long has it been since you last filed a robbery report?” Walker asked.

“A while. And yes, I’m sure.” He looked up at her with the hint of a smirk.

“Okay. Then let me make this easier…” Walker sighed, reaching for her badge in her purse, sliding it over the table. Marshall looked down from the badge, up to her face, a line forming between his eyes as he typed her badge number into the computer.

The silence that spread that was only interrupted from the pencil running over the paper where Evie was drawing. Sucking in her bottom lip, a thing Walker only did when she was nervous, she waited if Marshall would connect the dots right away. She heard his calm breathing as he typed and clicked, before he pushed the badge back to her, his eyes still on the computer screen in front of him. 

Seconds stretched into minutes before Marshall finally looked up at her. His eyes confused and cold.

“You were married to…” He looked down at Evie, not finishing the sentence.

“I saw the news back then. It was like looking into a mirror. I tried to find out more, but everything was classified.” He said quietly.  Walker breathed in deep.

“I think I can answer most of your questions. But… not here.” She motioned to Evie who was still drawing. Marshall looked at her a little longer before his eyes were on Walkers again.

“Okay. Then let’s just file that report first.” He nodded.

It only took 15 minutes to file the report she needed to get to the rental car service and her insurance company.  Evie had drawn a whole army of bunnies when they were finished, gifting Marshall one of her drawings, which made him smile.

“I’ll be at your hotel at 9pm, like we discussed.” He said as he escorted Walker and Evie outside.

“Just go straight up to our room. I don’t want to leave her alone.” Walker agreed, seeing him nod.

“Thank you for your help today, Marshall.” She said honestly.

“You’re welcome.” He nodded.

“Thank you Mr. Policeman.” Evie smiled up at him. Marshall chuckled.

“You are more than welcome Evie.” He said, holding out his hand which Evie shook wildly, making the adults laugh.Walker took Evie’s hand to walk away when Marshall looked at her.

“Was he my brother?” Marshall asked quietly. Walker stepped closer to him.

“He is your brother.” She said, her eyes not leaving his, before she nodded and turned around to take Evie back to the hotel.

[rudemaidenswrite]

Cash Prize

Part 4    Michael Meyers x Reader

By: @pusantheamazonian​ 

Welp we're almost done. So let's kick this relationship up a notch.

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

Waking up to warmth, you're wrapped like a burrito. Tangled in blankets with his arms locked around you. His arms?

Peering up, you're still in bed atop of Michael. The mask is back on and he is awake. At least he's in the clothes you bought him. That's a plus.

"Morning." 

A hand pats your head. Before he starts to move.

"Mmm you're so warm this morning." Holding on to whatever you can of him. Burying your face in his chest, hoping he gets the message that you want to snuggle some more. Ignoring your demands. He sits straight up and you have to roll off to the side so you don't get smooshed. 

"Okay okay. I'm getting up." Struggling with the blankets you know he's done. How tight did he wrap these blankets?

After breakfast you cozy up on the couch with a blanket in your usual spot and wait for Michael to join you. So you can steal all his body heat. Something is off though. He's usually melted to the couch before you. But right now he's just looming over you.

"What?"

A curious head tilt and several minutes of staring. He holds out the flyer you gave him.

"You kept this?" Surprised that he kept it, a smile creeps into your face. It’s strangely sweet that he kept something from your first meeting. 

The poke to your forehead brings you back to reality. The persistence he has about this is strange. He's definitely using his size against you. Good old intimidation tactic. Staring at the fyler you start thinking about why he's kept this. There's something he must want to know.

“Why? Why did I come to you?” There's a slight nod. “I was in a car accident. I had broken ribs, a bunch of bruises and my car, well you've seen it. But I was off work for a month because they thought I had done more damage than broken ribs, then I could only work part time for three weeks. Bills were pulling up quickly and my insurance didn't cover everything. That's why I needed the money. So I thought what the hell I got nothing to lose.” Shrugging you give him a weak smile. It's sort of embarrassing now when you say it out loud. That your last resort was asking The Shape of Haddonfield for help with your money problems. That you reached a point, where dying would be financially easier.

Taking the flyer back he now hands you the picture from last night. Honestly you're surprised it took him this long to rifle through your things. This is something you don't really want to talk about but you know he's not going to leave it alone.

"You want to know about my family." Sighing you can only stare at it. It's the last picture you have of everyone together. A candid photo from a neighbor's birthday party. Your parents dressed in matching colors, little brother trying to shove a whole cupcake into his mouth and you trying to hide from the camera. You regret doing that now. 

Under his stare he watches you zone out. Your breathing becomes erratic and you're squeezing the picture. Seems like you're trying to hold back a nervous breakdown. He saw the same behaviors at the sanitarium. More extreme but still the same behaviors. Petting your hair is the only thing he knows for sure clams you. 

"You sure are nosey today." Whispering, the soothing touch of his hand calms you. So focused on the picture you forgot about him and what he was asking. "Carbon monoxide poisoning. It was during my first semester of college. I got a call from the police saying they died in their sleep and I needed to come down to the morgue to identify their bodies." Looking away you hand it back to him. "I never enrolled for a second semester. I know it was a stupid move on my part. But I was not in the right mental state to do anything."

Interesting. You're more damaged than he originally thought. Loomis would have a field day with you. The annoying bastard.

When he finally sits down, you watch him slowly scan the room. Honestly it's slightly creepy. 

"I sold everything. It's either here or in the storage locker. If that's what you are wondering."

Answering him, you can see the wheels turning in his brain as he stares at you. Man, it's uncomfortable when he stares like that.

"Well…. This has been a talkative morning. I'm going to go make some cookies." Patting his knee you are determined to leave this conversation. Freeze at his sudden grip on your wrist, you clarify yourself.. "Chocolate chip cookies. So I can put some icing in-between two of them and make a sandwich." Pretending to eat a sandwich, you can feel it. It's going to be one of those days. He's definitely not leaving you alone today.

You are moving too slowly for him. You said that it would only be a minute but it's been over a minute. Grabbing the container, he holds it above your head. Pulling the mask up just enough, he starts eating.

"Michael! If you eat them all we won't have any for later!" Jumping you don't come close to the container. If you don't get that container back there won't be any left for you.

Okay, Plan B. 

Keeping eye contact, you back into the corner and slide the step stool closer. It's times like this your regret only having a one step, step stool. He knows what you're up to. You swear you see a smirk as he raises his arm higher.

Yup. It's a fact. You've discovered that Michael has a sweet tooth for cookies. Which would explain where all the Oreos have been disappearing to.

"Now you're just acting like the Cookie Monster." Pouting you start jumping again. This time on the step stool, hoping it will give you the advantage you need.

You are too easy to mess with. He watches you unsafely and recklessly jump on a moveable plastic stool. As much as he hates to admit it. He did enjoy feeling your soft body pressed to his. Timing it just right, he kicks the stool out from underneath you. Making you fall face first into him. Immediately locking you in place with his free arm.

"I get it. No more jumping on the step stool." Mumbling you try to wiggle out of his grasp. Damn his super strength. In defeat you lean all your weight on him and stop struggling. Only after proving that you weren't going to resist. Did he lose his grip on you, allowing you to shift so you can see him better. 

You don't know how much time passed before he let go but an eternity could pass by and you wouldn't care. As long as you were able to stare into Michael's eyes. The swirling blue void that was always trying to say something but never able.

Damn.

~

You have been planning this all week. Good Lord was it hard with your professional stalker here. At least you were able to put the locker at work to good use. There was no way you would be able to hide his presents at the apartment. 

With him glued to the TV already it's the perfect distraction. Pulling the presents out of your work bag. You hide them behind your back and slowly walk to him. Making him acknowledge your weird behavior as you stand in the way of the TV. 

"So this may be weird." You hold up two small packages. "Happy Birthday." 

You don't know what's more distressing. The confusion or the empty sadness in his eyes. The flickering of his eyes to the presents and the wall calendar have you regretting this idea. 

"Today's October 19th, your birthday and I thought we could celebrate it." It never occurred to you that he may not like celebrating his birthday. He has been locked away for years. Do they celebrate birthdays or holidays at Smith's Grove? "If you want to." Sheepishly you hope he does, even if it's just opening the presents.

Birthday? It's his birthday? How did you know that? He barely remembers when it is and you want to celebrate it? He hasn't celebrated it since he was little. The sanitarium did little for celebrations. Yet you want to, you even have presents for him.

His hands move faster than his brain. As an out of body experience, watching himself take the presents from you. Placing both items in his lap as you join him on the couch with a smile. 

Opening the first present he doesn't know what to expect. Knowing you it could be anything.  Intrigued he lifts up the set of chef knives. Each one has a different brightly colored handle. This is an odd gift. 

"I thought that the splash of color might confuse potential….victims more. It also comes with a sharpener." You struggle for a moment with what word to use but you powered on through it. He'll understand what you mean.

The second present is the one you're the most proud of. It's hard to contain your excitement while he opens it. It took you several days to find the perfect scarf. When you saw it you knew it was the one. A 60x10 inch wool scarf almost the exact same color as his coveralls.

"I know you're a body heater but it's getting colder out. I don't want you to get sick."

Amazing, you found a scarf that's the same blue as his coveralls. The softness is unreal and since when do scarfs come with embroidery?

MM.

Thumbing the white letters, it's easy to see that the letters have been handsewn on. This was an addition. When did you have time to do all this?

"I personalized it by adding your initials to it." Blushing you look away. You don't know why this is embarrassing. All you did was get him something practical and fun for his birthday. 

"So if you're not opposed. I was thinking we could do a cake or cupcakes for later. And you can pick the flavor, I have vanilla and chocolate cake mix."

Quietly you watch him mull the options over. Watching his head slowly tilt back and forth. Apparently this is a fucking hard decision. You've known since you were five years old what kind of cake you want for your birthday. His head tilting stops and gives you a look. Just something about it tells you he decided on chocolate.

"A chocolate… a chocolate what? Cake?" Pulling your own questions out of the air. He perks up a little at cake. "Okie dokie then. Tonight we're having chocolate cake." Smiling and out of an old old habit, you lean over and kiss his temple before getting off the couch. "I better not have paper wads thrown at me while I'm baking." Warning him you try to look menacing as you head for the kitchen. Making a mental note that his mask needs a good cleaning.

What. What was that? Presents? A kiss? Celebrate his birthday with good intentions? It feels like time has frozen again but is spinning out of control. The lack of control has dulled his thinking and made it seem like he was a normal person. Like a normal man with a normal girlfriend. How can you simply do that to him? The voices are irrational in their yelling. Demanding blood, your blood. Eradicating any reason to come back. You're fragile anyways, a simple snap of the neck would suffice. If he did that he would be left to the wild again. Regrettably he has come accustomed to this life with you. Food is easier to find, dry rooms that don't threaten to give out, watching TV to pass the time. 

Before he realizes it he's standing behind you. Watching you pull various items out of the cabinets. What are you? Are you a nuisance or asset? A waste of his time and efforts or his prized possession? He thought he had your place in his life figured out. This confusion must end. The voices or his sanity.

The almost invisible touch on your neck, pushing your hair to the side. Shivering, you quickly turn around in panic.

"Oh it's just you." Sighing in relief you turn back to the counter. It's just Michael being weird. "You surprised me. I thought there was a creeper inside the apartment."

Before you can continue there's a slow drag of Michael's hands. Wrapping themselves around your middle. Taking a ragged breath, you closely watch where his hands are going.

"Um… Michael? Are you going to let go?" Confused, you wait for him to move. His response is to squeeze tighter, pulling you closer to him. “I was about to start your birthday cake.” Looking at him not only do you see but can feel his burning stare. The cake is not happening right now. He wants all of your attention and he wants it now.

“If you're not going to let me go. Why don’t we sit down."

Sitting sideways in his lap, you lean on his chest. This isn’t awkward at all. Wrapping an arm around his, you quietly listen to his heartbeat. His chin rests on top of your head. Strange you would have never expected him to be a cuddler. But everyone likes to cuddle at some point. Besides it's been awhile since you have been held like this.

It's easy to fall asleep like this. His iron grip makes you feel safe. Knowing he has your back and likes you to a point. Is what makes you feel safe. But like all things perfection never lasts. You need to rotate or move because your leg is going numb. But with Michael's iron grip, that's easier said than done. Fidgeting you try to relieve the pressure without bothering him.

"Michael…." Freezing you don't move, holding your breath in case you're wrong.

That's not a knife in his pocket.

May the Lord help you. You are suddenly very aware of how much smaller and weaker you are compared to him. You're not going to say a word. Just ignore the entire situation. You are completely nopeing out of conscious acceptance of his boner. Maybe he doesn't realize exactly what is going on. He's been without human interaction for a long time, this is just a normal reaction. Maybe he's not interested in physical interactions and is asexual. It did take him a long time to show you his face and today is about birthday celebrations. But aren't you two together now? This relationship isn't exactly defined but wouldn't physical intimacy be the next step? It's not like you want any one else and you know any other suitor would be dead by nightfall. God your thought process is spiraling.

As if reading your mind his grip tightens. Curling himself around you. His erection nudges your thigh as he slowly grinds against you. Squeezing his arm in surprise. It's a very sobering fact that Michael is now taking control of his birthday plans. 

"Uh… Michael? I-is there… I mean d-do you want me to help?" You're a stuttering mess. Blushing you can't believe that you just asked him if he wants you to take care of his erection. You can barely hold eye contact with him. There's a burning curiosity and darkness in his eyes. Gulping, you have no idea the chaos you just unleashed. But you're pretty sure you just opened Pandora's box.