#Connor is just: Parent? Parents for me? Safe Parents who protect me?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lyon-amore · 1 year ago

Text

With you until the end of the world Chapter 12

Chapter 11

*Angel POV*

It has crossed my mind to write to my parents beginning with ‘Mr and Mrs Connors, I must bring you the news that your daughter, Macie Connors, has passed away.’ How could I have thought of that? It's very cruel. I think it would be even worse if it did. No more sending letters. I know I told them to wait for the next one, but there will never be a next one. They will no longer receive letters from me. Even that is wrong too What if I just make it worse? Do I make them worry by waiting for the next letter and they think something has happened to me because they don't receive any? Every thought gets worse.

I take all the envelopes and letters, putting them in a small bag to take them to throw away. Jake is checking the security of my phone, if anyone was able to look at anything on it while I was checking my emails. I guess I thought I was safe because it wasn't my phone, because all my information has already been lost. Maybe we really have put ourselves in danger. They will be waiting for the right moment to walk through the door. I take a deep breath, wanting to avoid getting paranoid. I move closer to Jack and get up to him. He is painting in his notebook. “Jack, I need your help.” I tell him with a kind smile. “It's a mission?” he asks excitedly. “A mission that only we can do” he looks at me curiously and continues “, Since Jake is busy on a mission to investigate if someone has been able to break into my phone, we will have a mission to investigate someone.” "Is there a bad guy coming for us?" “Very possibly” I settle on the floor “Do you remember the man who picked up your doll?” he nods and continues.”Well, he's here, in Italy.” He jumps up off the floor. “We have to tell Jake!” He takes a step and I stop him. “Wait!” I stop him and look at him nervously “We still don't know if the man is going for us.” "Do we have to get information out of him?" "Exactly" I try to explain slowly ", you should never accuse someone without proof, and if it turns out that it's someone who also happened to come here without looking for us, we might get him in trouble." He starts to think about my words, until he smiles at me, nodding. "But if it's not bad, don't let him be my new dad." he says with an angry tone. I let out a laugh, hugging him. "He won't be, I promise" I reply, leaving a kiss on her forehead ''. Well, this is what we will do.”

I tell Jack how to get the information. We have to act like a normal family. Basically, Andrew believes we're not running or hiding. When we find out if he's an FBI agent, I'm going to tell Jake and give him the phone number so he can access his phone and investigate him his own way so he can avoid investigating us. And then we'll have to leave again.

At nightfall, after everything that had happened, Jack wanted to sleep with us because he was worried about me. I look at him with a smile and hear a small laugh. I look up to see how Jake is looking at me. Funny. "Are you better, mom?" He asks me laughing again. I sigh rolling my eyes. I can't go back anymore. "Okay, it doesn't bother me that he calls me mom" I answer quietly, not wanting to bother him ", it's different from the children I've taken care of." “Not all-“ "If you've only cared for one child in your entire life, you have no right to continue that sentence." she threatened, but obviously joking. He smiles and leans a little closer to me to kiss my forehead. "I will keep looking at your phone." he says after gently caressing my cheek. "Thank you." I whisper, still a little sick about what happened. He gives me a small kiss and gets up to leave the room. I watch him walk away, thinking about how much I want to protect him and how I've failed. All because I am unable to leave mine behind. But it’s over. Macie's name will no longer be spoken. And I like the name Angel. The meaning it has for him is special and I like to feel special with him. "As soon as I have the information I need, I'll give it all to you Jake" I murmur decisively ", I promise I won't leave anything uninvestigated."

The next day, I decide to take Jack to the restaurant to see Andrew, with the excuse that he needs a break from his hacking classes. He's a little boy, we can't stress him out. I told him that if everything went well, I would buy him an ice cream. And so I can buy one.

We go into the restaurant, but I don’t see Andrew. I look everywhere. What if he has gone to inform his superiors? “Where is he?” I ask biting my nail. "Is it bad, mom?" "I don't-" "Were you looking for me?" I hear behind me and I get scared. When I turn around I see Andrew, smiling that charming smile. "Hello" I greet him, passing my hair behind my ear, smiling coquettishly "what makes you think we were waiting for you?" Maybe we just came to eat.” "Why else would you come the day after we met?" He winks at me and I laugh. It's obviously a fake laugh. The more charming he sees me, the more confident he will be and I will see if he misses something or some small gesture that gives him away "How are you kid?" he asks Jack, balling his hand into a fist in greeting. Jack does something that surprises me and he hides behind me, even though I told him to act normal in front of him. I can see the fear in his eyes and I know it right away. "He doesn't like to be greeted like that" I tell Andrew, for him to remove his hand ", he's a little more polite." "I see," Andrew begins to think, catching up with him. I see how his eyes examine him. He is scanning him. He's like me “And high five? Do you prefer it better?” He raises his hand and waits. Jack smiles sheepishly and agrees, giving him a high five. Andrew laughs, sitting up. "Why don't you go pick out a table for you and your mom? I'm going to talk to her for a second.” Jack looks at me, as if he could excuse me. "Go, but close, okay?" He nods and runs off to an empty table not far from my sight. I look at Andrew, who is looking at me seriously. I guess the moment of truth has arrived. "Who was mistreating him?" I blink confused at his question “I realized that he was scared when he saw the fist.” ''It's…" I take a deep breath, feigning discomfort. It's time to make up a story again “My ex-boyfriend liked to be too scary, that's why I left him, for treating him badly.” He looks at me carefully, he's looking to see if I'm lying or not. "And how did you know?" I ask now “Maybe he was just scared of you.” "I know what he had been through" he shrugged, but with a sad look on his face ". I've suffered as a child too." I try to figure out some small gesture that gives him away in that lie. But I don't see anything. "I... I'm so sorry" I answer awkwardly ". I didn't want to remind you. "It’s alright" he gives me a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets quickly ", that's in the past now, he's in jail." I nod slowly and we start walking over to Jack, who is holding a menu in his hands.

I sit next to him and Andrew across from us. I fix his bangs and smile fondly at him. “How are the classes going?” He asks Jack, leaning on the table “Do you like living here?” “Mmm…” the little one starts to think and makes it very serious “It's difficult to understand the language, but it's okay because I'm with mom.” “It must be great to be with her.” he says as he looks at me. “Yes, she takes good care of me and she worries about me.” For a moment I was afraid that he might say something he shouldn't. Well, I've always taken good care of him, I was just afraid that he would say something he shouldn't. "Did you doubt me?" I ask with a flirtatious smile. "Of course not, I think you're more than capable." He places his hands under his chin, without looking away. I try to try to see beyond that friendly facet. And I think he does the same too. “And what do you do?” he asks curiously. "I'm looking for a job." I reply quickly. "After so long living here?" "I do what I can, I focus more on taking care of Jack" I answer as I stroke the boy's hair ", but in the last interview I had they told me that they would call me soon." “Oh yeah?” he leans forward a little “And what is it?” “Interpreter in a company.” “Not bad.” he arches his eyebrows in agreement. “And you were always a pianist?” And finally it happens. I don't know that he notices too much because he does it very subtly, but by looking at it very carefully, I can see it. He has quickly looked down, as if he was thinking. "I taught piano" he says seriously “. I left it with my girlfriend after two years of dating” I tilt my head, trying to figure out if he's telling the truth. I don't see any trace of pity, resentment or melancholy. Rage. I see nothing. Not a bit of love “. I needed a change in my life and here I am! With a lovely woman and her lovely son.” <<He actually loves to flatter more than Phil.>> His interest in me is strange. It's like he doesn't let me see his true intentions. He just talks more than acts, he hasn't tried to make a breakthrough. Either he is really respectful or he doesn't really have those intentions. “I don't like being someone's replacement.” I say, crossing my arms. "Don't worry, you won't be." he winks at me, getting up from his chair to go to the piano. He starts playing another tune I know. It remind me of those moments when I needed to relax and not think about anything. Just my little world on that apartment. I shake my head, erasing those memories. She no longer exists.

After eating, we decided to return home. Not before buying an ice cream. After today's conversation, I'm starving for one. “I have done well?” Jack asks me, emotion in his voice. "Perfectly" I reply with a smile ", although we have obtained little information. “What?” "First, he wasn't dedicated to giving piano lessons." A proud smile escapes me when I noticed it “, he lied when I asked him if he had always been a pianist, it hasn't been very noticeable but he has avoided looking at me. And why name me his ex when I asked him about the piano?“ "So he lied to us?" "Yes, that's what I think" I hope I don't sound upset, but I've been through this before with guys who pretended to be perfect. Although maybe I was the one looking for someone special “, but the reason may be several.” "Then we have to keep investigating!" "Exactly" I stand up to him, excited “, I have found his weak point, he may know how to play the piano but if he diverts the conversation, it is so that he doesn’t continue talking about the subject because it is not what he has planned.” “So, what can we do now?” he asks curiously. "Surely now he will have realized his mistake and will start thinking about his mistake" I get up and we walk again “. I'll have to be careful so he doesn't notice that I'm interested in noticing when he lies.” "And then we'll tell Jake he's one of the bad guys." "Let's just hope I can get his phone number so I can look into it." I sigh, trying not to get nervous. "And how are you going to get it?" “I… I'll tell you when you grow up.” I'm going to hate flirting with that guy, but if he's really looking into me, maybe even pretending I need his help might work.

*Jake POV*

I have not been able to find any kind of trace on Angel's mail. It's all clean. It does not look like it was detected. I sigh in relief running my hand through my hair. Maybe I should stop by the studio now that everything has calmed down. The decoy computer has stopped working thanks to me, I have left it completely empty. The computer may have been lost forever, but at least it worked, they could not find us. Now I have to deal with something that may be risky, but possible.

I open the chat with Henry. It is also risky for him, maybe I will put him in trouble for this, but I do not have anyone to turn to. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nymos Comet, I need your help.

-----Comet has connected-----

Comet I knew it She has betrayed you 🙄

Nymos No, is not that. I need you to get me some documents.

Comet And that's how I get into the criminal world 😩 Let's see, what kind of documents?

Nymos I know you can get them for me because you work in security. They are family documents. Family book, school book, marriage documentation, hospital documentation…

Comet Wait a minute, that’s too much! What is it for?

Nymos We need to start from scratch. And we need documentation. Even if it is so that nobody recognizes us when they investigate us.

Comet Of course Get more charges now 😑 Do you know that for false documentation they can put you in jail too?

Nymos That is why I am asking you for help. It is not fake if I ask security agents for it.

Comet DIGITAL SECURITY! I’m not from witness protection!

Nymos But it is easier for you to get it. Even the digital signature can be easily obtained.

Comet Ouch! 😩 Will I have to fill it in?

Nymos No, that.is what I take care of.

Comet Everything you do for her, huh? 🙄

Nymos And the child When I saw them yesterday, I felt that I did not want to lose them because of me. The only option I have is that I also disappear from the world and thus be with them far from here.

Comet Hmm… I don’t know if it sounds very nice or very risky And does she know?

Nymos I am planning how to tell her and thus fill out the documents together :)

Comet Well if so I guess because of you I can get it Although it will take a long time, there are many documents you need And more if you want to leave the country without problems 😅 You could put yourself in danger at the airport

Nymos I know, luckily I already have a forged ID and passport. The man who makes them is an expert.

Comet I won’t ask any more about that… But yeah, okay But if you promise that when you’re settled I can come see you I want to meet my nephew! 😤

Nymos Haha. Alright :) I know I can trust you.

Comet Because I'm the only one who can't scold you Like I said, it'll take a while, so stay out of trouble while I get it for you

Nymos I promise you.

Comet Wait for news from me then 😎

-----Comet has disconnected----- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear the door knock and Jack runs into the room, hugging me. “Dad!” He exclaimed with a laugh. The word is still strange, but for his happiness, I think I do not care. “How was the walk?” I ask sitting him on my lap. "Well, Mom even bought ice cream for dessert." "Surely she bought it as an excuse to eat herself." Angel clears her throat, crossing her arms. "And I meant it without bad intentions." I reply quickly. "Of course." She rolls her eyes and walks over to us. She leans in kissing me on the lips. I place my hand on her waist and she lets out a laugh. “I am here!” Jack exclaims and we look at him. He crosses his arms, annoyed. I ruffle his hair and Angel kisses his cheek. The little one laughs happily. "Hey, why don't you take Jack to the studio and get a little spruced up?" Says Angel, going to the door "He got some ice cream on him and I'd like to clean his clothes." "Of course, I was going to go too." I answer, leaving the boy on the floor and I get up from the chair. "Okay, let's all go then. I'll grab the laundry bag and we'll go.” As she leaves the room, I catch up with Jack. I can not believe I am going to do this. "Can you help me with something?" I ask and feel my shy side come out. “Yeah!” I smile seeing his excitement. “I want to prepare a surprise for Angel and I need your help for what I want to do.” “And what is?” I let out a nervous laugh. It is something that I would never have thought to do, because I never had a person by my side who I loved so much. And asking a child for help for this is a bit desperate, it seems that I am going to use him to make it easier, although he is not. I need his help because I have no one else to turn to. "I'm done guys." Angel warns from the entrance. “I will tell you when she is not there, she is very smart and she would find out if it is close that we are up to something.” I get up and grab the mask from the table, putting it on. I take Jack’s hand and he accepts it, laughing at our secret. I have needed to meet the right person to want to break with everything that made me have a gray world.

Chapter 13

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood game #everbyte studio #everbyte game #duskwood everbyte

15 notes · View notes

hornystorage · 10 months ago

Text

Reconditioning (Part 4)

[Originally posted by rubberpupthoughts. Re-posted for archival purposes.]

(Two boy get trapped in an abandoned asylum, known for the perverted spirits that come to life at night. Connor goes through pup training in Part 3. Ash’s story continues here.)

Ash was not only the youngest in his group of friends, but at late bloomer. His friends always teased him, and Ash tried hard to act like a man. That’s why he whipped out his dick when the others made a bet who could cum farthest. That was a mistake. His pubic hair had barely come in, and he was too shy to get hard in front of his friends. So he didn’t cum at all. Instant loss. Connor “came” in second-to-last because his cock fired prematurely. Ash was embarrassed, but he remembered how defeated Connor looked when his cock weakly dribbled its load.

Ash followed Connor into the abandoned asylum for the same reason he entered the bet. He didn’t want to be seen as a baby. When Ash was in high school, he often wet the bed. His parents forced him to wear nighttime briefs until he moved out. A few of his friends knew.

Ash still had nightmares about waking up wet. He could feel the warm sensation spreading, like he did now. Wait. Was he dreaming? Now?

Ash woke up with a groan. The last thing he remembered was running down a rubble-scattered hallway in the asylum. Connor was trying to put a straitjacket on him. No, he succeeded. Only, it wasn’t Connor. It was as if the straitjacket came to life and wrapped itself around him.

Ash opened his eyes. He was looking at a grimey ceiler, where a mirror was mounted. Ash tried to move, but found he was still in the straitjacket. His legs were strapped down to some sort of bed, too. He tried to talk, but was muffled by a large rubber gag. The gag had a thin tube attached, which dangled up to an IV bag. The gag force fed him a salty liquid, one drip at a time.

The boy could only remember running down the hallway, trying to escape. He must have tripped and knocked himself out. Ash began to panic and thrash against his bindings.

The door to the room creaked open.

Ash looked over to see a young man enter the room. The man reminded Ash of his older brother.

“Hey little bro. You’re up,” the man said. He walked over and patted Ash’s crotch. Ash had almost forgot he wet his pants. Except, he didn’t feel the man touch his pants. His hand patted against a thick diaper bulge.

Ash was wearing a diaper.

“Wow, still dry. Good job, little bro!” The man said. He walked across the room, out of Ash’s limited view. “I’m surprised you lasted this long. The serum usually takes effect instantly.”

Ash looked up to the IV bag, tasting the salty mixture on his tongue. He heard the man flick a small metal switch, and the mirror above him filled with light. The mirror reflected a monitor across the room. The ancient tube TV flashed with static for a few moments. When it settled, Ash could make out black-and-white cartoons.

“There. I found your favorite show.”

Ash didn’t recognize the cartoons. But he was enthralled by them. They looked old, for sure. The style was edgy, even a little sloppy. Though they appeared harmless at first glance, Ash could not help but feel something sinister lurking just beneath. He felt fear building in side him. His ears felt hot as they filled with the sound of static. Ash felt another sensation building. The need to pee.

The boy closed his eyes and bucked in bed, trying to resist the urge. He felt the man’s hands on his chest.

“It’s OK, little bro. You’re safe with me.”

Ash melted. His fear wiped away, and he relaxed on the bed. He felt almost sleepy now, and distant.

“There. Now let go. I’ll protect you.”

The words wrapped around Ash like a warm sensation. He felt the soothing warmth, especially around his groin.

Ash knew he was wetting himself. But for the moment he felt distant from his body. He held back tears, feeling both comforted by his “brother” and “humiliated” by the loss of control.

“Oh, did somebody go potty?” The man patted Ash’s wet diaper. He grabbed the bulge firmly, and Ash felt himself getting hard.

“Good. From now on, you will no longer be able to control when you pee. I know that sounds scary, but your big brother has your back. I will send you home with enough diapers for tomorrow. But I suggest you stock up. Otherwise, you’ll wet your pants in front of your friends.”

Ash whimpered. He felt himself close to the edge of an orgasm. The man let go of his diaper.

“It’s cute that you want to cum like a big boy,” the man said. “You still have some training left. These cartoons will teach you to submit to any boy that’s older than you. You will do whatever they say, including sex.”

Ash tried to shake his head. But when the man grabbed his diapered bulge again, the boy was whimpering.

“You already enjoy it, little bro. This will just make it impossible to deny. There will be one side-effect of the treatment. You won’t be able jerk yourself off.”

Ash was swimming in arousal, but the statement brought him back to reality.

“Your dick will match the little boy you are. You might have wet dreams from time to time. But it’ll never feel the same.”

The man groped Ash again, then slowly removed the boy’s gag. “But I suppose I could help you cum like a big boy one last time, before the serum takes full effect. If you ask your ‘big bro’ nicely.”

When the gag popped out of Ash’s mouth, all the boy could say was “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me cum… big bro.”

The man grinned. He rubbed Ash’s padded dick a few more times. Ash bucked against his restraints, this time from an orgasm. He felt his small, slimy load of cum against the wet diaper. The last load he would shoot while awake.

“Good. Now you’re ready for more cartoons.”

#chs: written #chs: story #chs: a favourite #CHS: rubberpupthoughts

2 notes · View notes

casspurrjoybell-32 · 8 months ago

Text

Taken - Blue Moon Series - Chapter 8a

*Warning Adult Content*

Elder Cyrus

"Have you lost your mind?" I exclaimed at the four men once we were back in the Alpha's office alone.

"Not that I know of," Elijah smiled lounging on the couch.

"What's the problem?" the Head Elder asked.

"The problem is that you want my mate to handle a 'Seer' alone."

"He won't be alone Cyrus... he'll have Teagan with him," Jim said.

"Oh right leave the unstable pyro to deal with my mate and a Seer," the sarcasm was dripping off my tongue as I glared at the four calm men.

"Are you admitting that your therapy sessions with him were no good Cyrus?" Heath asked.

I gritted my teeth at those words.

I worked hard to try and get Teagan to join society, his mental state was almost beyond repair.

He was so scarred, he would attack for no reason.

I suffered plenty of scratches and burns from him till I finally earned a fraction of his trust.

From what I've seen of him recently, he's doing so much better.

Connor seems to be helping him cope with his past and keeping him sane.

But I don't know what might happen if he meets his parents.

They are the cause of his suffering and also his long lost baby brothers.

I sighed.

Oh, Lakota. He was not far from his brother in this.

He was just as scarred but since he had no powers to lash out with he had secluded himself in his wolf form.

This was the first time I'd seen him out in his human form for so long.

And I hated to admit it but I knew part of it had to do with Gale.

"Cyrus."

I was brought out of my thoughts as Heath came to stand before me.

"Sir?"

"I know this is hard for you, all these new developments with your mate, Gale and this war. But I need you to focus on the mission. Get to the Seer, gather the location of these rogues and hope we win this thing."

"I'm not scared of this war, Sir... I'm more concerned with what all this will do to my mate."

"Understandable," he nodded.

"Cyrus," I glanced over towards the Vampir King.

"Lakota has been through a lot, I know what a Syrin is capable of. He's lucky he's still in his right mind... unfortunate for his brother though. Your fortunate to have Lakota but I want you to step back and realize that Gale has entered your lives. My son is not an intruder in your world as you might think. He was brought to you for a reason."

I frowned as I stared at the vampire who had taken my mate.

"The Spirits make mistakes occasionally but when it comes to mating three individuals together, there could be no error. And to have a mate from another species altogether makes it impossible," this time it was Jim who cut in.

Jim was unusually wise for his age and when he gave advice it was heeded.

I nodded, knowing that their words would stick with me for good throughout this trip.

It was true that I was dumbfounded about Gale.

Why he was here and obviously mated to Lakota.

It made me angry when I first heard about it but now I think it was a strong kind of jealously.

Not that I would tell anyone that.

"All that you need to do is protect your team," Heath said.

I looked over at him.

"Sir."

"You're powerful Cyrus, more powerful than any other Elder that I know of. I understand that your loyalties are mainly for Lakota, since he's part of your pack and your mate. But I am trusting you to bring everyone back safely."

Heath's grey eyes were showing all the faith he had in me and I could do nothing but give in to his demands, he was my superior after all.

"Yes, Sir."

I bowed before leaving the room.

I stood outside of the closed door and lent my head back against the wood with my eyes closed.

-Let Teagan and Lakota speak to a Seer... of all things.

-Bring everyone back safe and sound.

-Win a war against my mate's parents.

-Accept Gale as Lakota's mate?

It was a list of difficulties especially the last.

I heard my wolf growl softly as I thought about it.

Shaking my head I pushed myself off the door and walked down the hall.

********

Bags were packed, everyone was waiting outside.

Since we were going in wolf form we only packed a few clothes and cash for the few times we would need to go out in public.

"You ready?" I asked everyone who were standing around as I closed the front door.

"Yeah," Gale answered but I kindly ignored him.

I walked up to Connor and buckled the small pack around his neck and did my own.

"Alright. Let's go then."

All four of us shifted leaving our clothes tucked into a hidden clothes cache the Sky Raven pack left out for emergencies on the trees boarders and took off.

As we ran I saw that Gale may not be able to shift and have four legs but he ran pretty damn fast with two... he kept up with our pace so skillfully he was almost a blur.

1 note · View note

stabbedinthenameofscience · 2 years ago

Text

This link has a paywall. Text below:

February 15, 2023, 6 AM ET

This article was featured in One Story to Read Today, a newsletter in which our editors recommend a single must-read from The Atlantic, Monday through Friday. Sign up for it here.

On the banks of the Red Cedar, a modest tributary that winds through the heart of one of America’s magnificent college campuses, there’s a school that’s known to all. Its specialty is winning: Michigan State University boasts numerous programs that rank among the world’s best, including supply-chain management, agricultural engineering, and graduate education. Oh, and those Spartans play good ball, on the gridiron and the hardwood and beyond, racking up Big Ten titles and churning out professionals, all-stars, Hall of Famers. It’s the home of overachievers and underdogs, an ideal place for someone with a point to prove. The official mantra, “Spartans Will,” is more than a deft motto; it’s a defiant mentality that makes the school exceptional.

Despite its imposing scale—50,000 undergrads fanned out across 5,200 acres of campus—Michigan State is an intimate place, a public school that feels like a private club, an institution that nurtures notions of shared values. Anyone, anywhere, who ventures into the world wearing a Spartan logo on their hat or jacket is prone to be saluted with “Go Green,” and as reflexively as breathing, they respond, “Go White.” This is the ritual by which perfect strangers become extended family. This is the culture that welcomes pimple-faced teenagers to campus—that immaculate, bucolic campus—and then welcomes their children and grandchildren.

But the Michigan State campus was different yesterday. The chime of Beaumont Tower’s grand clock echoed across empty quads, empty benches, empty buildings. A place that should be buzzing on a Tuesday morning midway through spring semester was all but abandoned. Only the flapping of yellow police tape in the February breeze broke the awful stillness.

Twelve hours earlier, a coward had menaced the people of Michigan State. Spraying bullets into the Berkey Hall research building and the nearby Student Union, this coward—a criminal with previous gun charges; a known troublemaker who reportedly took target practice in his urban backyard; a manifest threat who, this being America, still managed to legally possess a firearm—murdered three Spartan students and sent another five to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. The crime scene I encountered was surreal. Here, in the center of campus, spectators not old enough to buy a six-pack watched from behind police lines as a man in protective wear scrubbed the blood of their fellow students off the sidewalk.

I was shocked, though I had no right to be. In the 15 years since I graduated from Michigan State, there have been scores of deadly mass shootings in academic settings. No place has been off limits: Gunmen have terrorized small elementary schools and big universities alike, leaving parents and students and educators with an unresolvable sense of helplessness. Did I think it would happen to my school? Of course not.

“You’re at Michigan State. There’s a trust here. You think it’s safe. I mean, look around,” Connor Villeneuve, a junior majoring in human biology, as he swept his hand across the landscape, told me.

Villeneuve had left the library at 7 o’clock Monday night. Walking face-first into a blistering wintry wind, his apartment still some distance away, he had nearly stopped into the Student Union to grab a coffee and warm up. Instead, he hustled home, only to learn of the horror unfolding at the location he’d just brushed past.

“That’s always going to be in the back of my mind,” Villeneuve said. “I think MSU will come back from this. This is a strong school, and we’ll come back stronger than ever. But that trust—” he paused. “I don’t know if that comes back.”

My heart ached for him. Raised an hour away, much closer to that other university, the one in Ann Arbor, I never entertained the idea of living in East Lansing. And then I visited the campus. Most products of the youthful imagination are eventually rejected, cruelly and unceremoniously, by the realities of maturation. But every dream that came to my child’s mind when conceiving of college—the stately buildings and the sprawling green spaces, the roaring football stadium and the whispering river, the camaraderie and the conviviality and the bottomless school spirit—was a reality at Michigan State. Suddenly, all I wanted was to become a Spartan.

As I walked the campus yesterday, nearly 20 years later, every sight evoked a memory. There was the library where I pulled all-nighters studying for finals. There was the field where I spent spring afternoons lounging on a beach towel, smoking cigarettes, listening to Led Zeppelin, reading about war and religion. There was the dorm where I met my first real girlfriend; the patio where I declared my love for her; the bar where we hugged, cried, and broke up. Each of these memories is a treasure. Every experience I had at Michigan State—even the immature mistakes and the horrible hangovers—is something for which I’m deeply grateful.

Today’s Spartans might never know that luxury. Standing outside Berkey Hall, gazing upward at square grids of glass, I found myself thinking about the hundreds of young people who had come and gone from this place one day earlier. I studied the windows facing East Circle Drive—one decorated with athletic-department decals, another with stick-on ornaments that shimmered in the sunlight—and wondered what they must have represented to the people who had been trapped on the other side. I thought about the five kids fighting to stay alive at the hospital. I thought about their friends who survived but who will carry scars for the rest of their lives. Mostly, I thought about the three people—cherished children, dear friends, beloved Spartans—who had been slain: Arielle Anderson. Brian Fraser. Alexandria Verner.

College is something more than classes and keggers, caps and gowns. It is a process of ripening, of discovering the outer world but also one’s inner self. It is a collection of experiences and memories that shape a foundation for life. It is a gift. That gift was snatched away from Arielle Anderson, Brian Fraser, and Alexandria Verner on Monday.

Walking the campus a day later, I had to question what that gift would mean to the survivors. Would it be a gift at all? Everyone I spoke with counted themselves as fortunate. But the more time I spent with these students—as they wept in a prayer circle, as they hugged their parents in a pickup line, as they laid flowers in front of the place where their classmates had just been slaughtered—the more it became apparent that something special had been spoiled for them. These Spartans would forever associate Michigan State with fear as much as fun, death as much as a new phase of life.

“This place is changed now,” said Madi LaJoice, a sophomore music major who lives in the Campbell dormitory. She spends most weeknights at the Student Union; it’s right across the street from Campbell. But Monday was a rare exception. When she received the email alert from campus authorities with a set of prioritized instructions—“Run, Hide, Fight”—LaJoice and her friends turned off the lights in her dorm room. They barricaded the door by stacking trash cans on top of furniture. And then they sat on the floor in silence for the next five hours.

LaJoice described the scene while leaning against her red sedan, wiping tears from her eyes. She was in the Campbell parking lot, preparing to drive home to the Detroit suburbs after classes had been canceled. Nearby, kids were stuffing duffel bags and laundry baskets into their parents’ vehicles. LaJoice wasn’t sure when she would be ready to return to campus.

“Everyone is always telling you, ‘College is the best time of your life. You better make it count,’” she said. “I love Michigan State. I’ve made the best friends here. It’s my home. It’s my favorite place. And I don’t want to let this guy ruin that for me; I don’t want to give him that power.”

She collected herself. “But it’s never going to be the same, you know? We can try to move on, show how strong we are, and all that. But it’s never going to be the same.”

As we spoke, a young woman ran up and hugged LaJoice. It was her close friend Penny Devine. After a long embrace, they began swapping stories. Devine was in the Student Union on Monday night. She heard three gunshots but felt frozen by the sudden chaos. Finally, seeing the stampede toward the exits, she bolted from her study table, shuffling to keep her slippers from falling off, and merged with the panicked masses streaming down the dark streets outside. Devine called her dad, who told her to stay with people. But she was surrounded by strangers. Two young women, overhearing the call and sensing her desperation, grabbed Devine and brought her to their friend’s apartment.

“That’s Michigan State,” LaJoice said. “For such a big school, it’s such a small community.”

Devine vowed to fight for that community. She hadn’t survived this ordeal to wallow. If February 13, 2023, was going to define Michigan State, she said, it would be because of the response to the tragedy, not the tragedy itself. LaJoice was visibly inspired listening to her friend. Her disposition changed. She and Devine began drawing up a list of tasks that awaited them. Like every other student I met yesterday, they reminded me that they were resilient, that they were Spartans.

The losses of Monday night, they swore to me, would not prevent a victory for MSU.

0 notes

chasingpj · 3 years ago

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

"Bye, for now, puddles."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 6,220

warnings: a little angst, missing a meal, death of a parent, i believe that is all.

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! I'm so excited to finally get this chapter to you guys. I'm sorry this literally took a month. i was taking two writing-intensive courses this summer and i was just burnt out. i hope you enjoy it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

A grunt escapes you; your contorted body weighs down the top of your suitcase as your damp fingers slip off the metal zipper. The unforgivingly humid weather provokes the heat of your efforts, adding to your discomfort. There’s urgency in your fingers, your frustration growing at each failed attempt to close your suitcase.

“Y/n! Hurry up!” Atticus shouts from outside of the Hermes cabin. As the zipper slips out of your grasp once again, you throw your head back in annoyance, hand coming up to push away wisps of hair that fall on your face. A familiar chuckle comes from the corner of the room, grabbing your attention from the wooden ceiling. Connor sits on the side of his bed; his comic book forgotten beside him as you fussing over your suitcase seems to be more interesting to him.

“It’s not funny,” you grumble, sitting onto your heels.

Connor rises from his bed, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. He kneels by your suitcase, “It’s kinda funny.”

The corners of your mouth almost curve up, but you stop yourself, opting for a roll of your eyes instead.

“What the hades do you have in here?” The tips of his fingers turn white as he pulls on the little piece of metal. You shift your weight to the corner he works on, but it helps him as much as it helped you earlier.

“My brother’s left a bunch of books behind, so Lou Ellen and I split them up. She’s taking half, and I take the rest. We’ll study them and then exchange notes.” A hum of acknowledgment comes from Connor’s lips as he inches the suitcase closed.

“You guys are a bunch of nerds.” You squint at the other with a playful offense, and he laughs at your hardened features. “I bet you guys study more than the Athena Kids,” he teases.

“There’s a lot to learn,” you say simply, watching as he brings the zipper to the end. He leans back on his heels, and you move to take in the half-empty cabin.

The sight of the Hermes cabin being this tidy was foreign. There aren’t any sleeping bags on the floor; the belongings of your many cabin mates didn’t clutter the walls or the corners of the room as they usually do. It’s funny. There are always complaints of the cabin being too small, but it appears bigger without the mess.

“Will you and Atticus visit throughout the year?” Connor’s expression is hopeful. As the last day of camp approached, Connor’s wishes of a full cabin all year round became more apparent. The shift from a max-capacity cabin to a half-empty one must be a tough transition for social people like Stoll Brothers. If it were you, you’d be counting down the days of everyone’s departure.

You ruffle his brown locks, “we’ll probably stop by for, maybe, spring break?” Connor’s hopefulness begins to sag, and you frown. Spring break is pretty far from now, huh? “Depending on how mortal life treats us. You know, we might be back soon,” you add on quickly, hoping to lift his smile.

Though you wish to go home, you’re dreading all the supernatural activity you’ll have to deal with once you leave. Your father works tirelessly to protect the house, but entities always manage to get in. And if they can’t, they don’t mind hanging outside.

The hopefulness that faded from Connor’s face restores, and he gives you that famous mischievous smirk. “Well, I hope the ghosts bother you guys enough to come to visit early.” His tone is playful, but you can tell he meant some of his words. You laugh hesitantly and nod, rising from your suitcase.

“I’m glad you’re that eager to see us again.”

You thank him as he leans down, lifting the heavy suitcase from the ground for you.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming!” You tug on the handle, glancing at Connor. “The year will go by fast, and soon this cabin will be bursting at the nails with new unclaimed people. Atticus, Lou, and I included. Anyways, you have your brother. You guys will find something to entertain yourselves.” You nudge him as you make your way outside.

“Yeah, you’re right. You will write to me, yeah?” Connor asks.

“Of course. I’ll send you snacks that you can’t buy at the gas station.” Connor’s arm pumps back to his side, hand in a fist as he hisses a “yes.”

The corners up your mouth hesitantly pull up as you push open the cabin door, finding Atticus and Travis talking on the porch. For the past week, the anticipation of your departure was killing you, but now that it was time to leave, you feel gloomy.

You knew the cause of your heavy heart was the uneasy tone of your going. Living day by day with the intention of moving on was hard. Because every time you look at their newly occupied beds, the sinking feeling in your chest returns. Every time you find yourself wandering in the forest, the memories of your often chaotic magic lessons flood your mind. You remember when Alice misaimed her wind spell, shooting Alabaster far into the trees. While you all rushed to check on him, Alice burst into tears because she was convinced she killed him only to approach a laughing Alabaster who shouted, “Right on!”

Every time you were in the Arts and Crafts center, you remember how you, Sage, and Lou would do Tarot Readings for the campers and how you would argue with the Apollo kids when they insisted your tarot cards are as honest as fortune cookies.

At the armory, you remember how Ambrose ran into James so hard, he stumbled and knocked down half of the shelves of weapons.

In the courtyard, you remember how Ernest, horrified by heights, produced the highest pitch scream he possibly could as he rode a pegasus for the first time under the persuasion of Alabaster.

All these memories, whether hilarious like your spell mishaps or bittersweet like when you and your sibling’s group hugged around Sage when she cried about her abusive stepmother, held a special place in your heart. Because the times where you laughed and cried together reminded you of the genuine bond, the family that was ripped away from you overnight.

“We'll see you guys soon. We should go. Argus will leave without us," Atticus says, relieved that Argus is still waiting for you on top of Half-Blood Hill.

“Have a safe trip, guys,” Travis says, patting Atticus’s shoulder before reaching out his arm and giving you a short side hug. You grab your things, hastily saying a final goodbye, and soon, you and Atticus are trudging up the hill.

Your free hand pats the pocket of your shorts, calming your worry of forgetting the necklace at the cabin. What rests in your pocket is a raw tourmaline crystal, now smooth with the help of Beckendorf, encased in a silver spiral cage.

You and Atticus carry protection crystals all the time, and they help with staying out of the radar of monsters and entities. After hearing Percy’s many stories of monsters bothering him, you figured he couldn’t be too cautious. Then after finding a spell in Alabaster’s many books that can dim down a demigod scent for a while, you decided to make him an enchanted necklace to wear.

You pack into the truck with Atticus right on time. Atticus sits in front of you, chatting away with Cecil as you make yourself comfortable in the back row with Ambrose. You frown; among the three other campers in the van with you, Percy isn’t one of them. Argus peeks into the back, doing a rough headcount. Great, now you’ll have to wait until next summer to give it to him.

Right, when you were going to chastise yourself for not giving him the necklace yesterday when you were done with it, a distant voice shouts, "wait!"

Argus halts in the middle of closing the sliding down and turns around. He shakes his head with disapproval while opening the door all the way, revealing out of breath Percy.

A smile widens across your face as he gets into the back seat with you, and you nudge Atticus’s seat.

"See, I told you we wouldn't be the last ones here.” You side-eye Percy, seeing the corners of his mouth pull up in amusement.

“Some people just don’t know how to get to places on time, huh?” Atticus says, and his eyes flicker to Percy before giving you a wide grin.

“Didn’t sleep in today, firefly?” There is a playfulness in Percy’s voice, and you smile proudly,

“Nope, not today.”

“It’s a miracle,” Percy mutters, loud enough for you to hear, and you scoff. Atticus snickers and nods in agreement.

“We were supposed to gang up on him, not you two on me.” You stick your tongue out at Atticus, and he returns the action.

“It’s more fun making fun of you,” Atticus teases.

“Rude,” you mumble with a slight smile on your face. The two boys chuckle, Atticus turning more into his seat to tell Percy something about a new Marvel movie. Excited voices fill the van as the other boys join in the conversation, and soon they are debating if Batman is really a superhero or just a rich guy in a suit.

You had to admit, as the conversation became more passionate, you were pretty entertained, but as you catch sight of Camp Half-Blood growing farther in the distance, you’re reminded of the ache in your chest. It’s only a temporary leave, but when you return, things will never be the same, and the false hope of your siblings returning has been proven to be foolish.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Following a ghost dog while weaving through the hustle and bustle of Grand Central is almost impossible. Atticus’s hand is latched to the straps of your bookbag as you move through people, trying not to roll your eyes at the way Ambrose turns to bark as if he was reprimanding you for being too slow. Easy for him to say when he can walk through walls and people.

“Track 28,” Atticus reminds you as your eyes find the number written on the tan bricks of the high walls. You make a sharp left towards the entrance of another hallway, ignoring the groans of a grouchy bystander that you may have cut off. The next hallway you enter is a lot less crowded than the main floor, and you slow down your pace.

“Where do you guys live again?” Percy asks as he jogs up beside you. He had insisted on walking you guys since his train departs in the same station.

“Sleepy Hollow.” Percy scrunches his face as if he recalls something, and you smile, waiting for the question everyone asks when you say you live there.

“Have you seen the headless horsemen?” Percy asks, half-joking. A snort leaves your throat, and you look at Atticus, who’s equally amused.

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.”

“Really?” Percy asks, his eyes wide with surprise, and you laugh.

“No.” Your response makes his face drop comedically fast, and Atticus bursts into laughter. “It’s just a story, but there’s a lot of history there, so the place is crawling with ghosts. We’ve met the guy who wrote the story, though,” you mention.

“No way,” Percy squints his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Atticus and I take walks in the cemetery sometimes. We leave drachmas on the graves of newly passed people, so their venture into the underworld is smooth, but some people like to wander.” You shrug. “Washington Irving is one of those people.”

“Cool,” Percy says with such enthusiasm that it makes you smile. Ambrose turns around and barks again, standing at the golden entrance that leads to the grey tunnel lit with fluorescent white lights where your train waits beside the concrete platform.

“He always rushes us,” Atticus complains, and Harvey lets out a coo that sounded close to a groan as if he agreed with him.

The marble floors turn to concrete as you enter the tunnel. The blue and silver train on your left hums as it sits dormant in its station. Ambrose trots ahead, peaking into the doors and windows to find an empty cart to occupy.

As you follow a few feet behind him, your fingers fiddle with the necklace resting in your pocket. You’re regretting not giving it to Percy earlier because, for some reason, the idea of giving it to him now was more intimidating than if you had done it earlier on the bus.

Ambrose decides on a cart, and Harvey jumps off Atticus’s shoulder, squealing happily as he follows the hound while completely ignoring a worried Atticus trailing close behind.

"I, uh, made this for you," you sputter, the words coming out fast like vomit. Your fingers pull out the crystal necklace abruptly, and you put it in the palm of his hand. "It's black tourmaline. It has protective qualities; good at keeping negative energy, negative auras, things like that. I put a spell on it to dim down your demigod scent for a while, so you catch a little bit of a break. It'll last for a few weeks, maybe a month or two if the spell caught on well."

You bite your lip as Percy studies the necklace resting in his hand. "Wow, really? Thank you, Y/n. This is great.”

Nervous, you shift on your feet under his bright, smiling orbs. "It's no problem. After everything that happened at camp, I think it’ll be good for you to have one.”

Percy nods, his features softening all of a sudden, and he shifts. “Thanks for protecting me,” he says, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Getting rid of that thing became more than you expected. I felt bad that I couldn’t help. Swords aren’t really useful when it comes to demons, huh?”

A small laugh of agreement leaves your lips. “It was nothing. I wasn’t going to let you be tormented by that thing if I could help it.”

An announcement echoes in the hall, reporting the departure of your train in a few minutes. You glance over, catching Atticus, Ambrose, and Harvey with their noses practically pressed against the window as they witness your interaction with Percy. The amused smirk on Atticus’s face makes you roll your eyes; he’s definitely going to tease you when you get on the train.

"I should go.” You face Percy again, catching him securing the necklace around his neck. The stone rests a few inches under his camp half-blood necklace. "Thanks for walking us here. Be careful getting home."

"You too…” he trails off, noticing your brother looking out the window. For a second, he seems as embarrassed as you do and a nervous chuckle leaves his lips. “Your brother is waiting."

“He’s so annoying,” you complain, and Percy’s next chuckle doesn’t sound as hesitant this time. "Well, uh, bye, for now, puddles,” you tease, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Bye, for now, firefly."

You both awkwardly wave at each other before you turn around, getting on the train with Atticus. With your gaze fixed on the floor, you plop into the seat next to him. You don’t even need to look to know he is smiling teasingly at you.

"How cute,” he teases, nudging your shoulder repeatedly with his own.

"Ew, shut up.” You shove at his shoulder, your nose scrunching as he flails his arms against yours as if you were fighting. Atticus chuckles and a string of sounds come from your familiars as they join in to tease you, and you couldn’t help but laugh too.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The suburban streets of your neighborhood are filled with the chirps of birds and bugs and the sounds of cars that pass every once in a while. There isn’t much conversation between you and Atticus as you trudge up the hill leading to your dead-end street.

“Gods, I hope we can get inside without being seen,” you manage to say through your heavy breaths, lazily holding on to the handle of your suitcase as it rolls behind you. Ambrose’s nose nudges the back of your knees as if to encourage you, but it’s more cute than helpful.

“There’s no way that we are. Janie and Celia are always sitting on the neighbor’s porch.” You grunt in acknowledgment, knowing that Atticus is right. The neighborhood ghosts are friendly enough, but their company can be annoying.

As if on cue, you hear a delighted squeal from ahead the moment you reach the top of the hill. Two ladies wave their handkerchiefs in the air a handful of houses away.

Celia, the tallest of the two, wears a steel blue dress with a high neckline and a big bow tied on the base of her neck. She has a jacket button closed over her corset with a frill at the end of her sleeves. Her skirt is floor-length and complete, with ruffles cascading down its entirety. And, of course, no one can miss the high-crowned hat decorated with fake flowers, bows, and crimped fabric as it all sits on top of her blonde hair in an intricate updo. Janie, her sister, wears the same style of dress and headpiece only in a burgundy red. The resemblance between the two makes it clear that they’re siblings close in age. They have the same high pinched noses that jut in the air; both of their faces are regal like those in renaissance paintings.

You’ve seen them around for as long as you can remember. They were two sisters who died of scarlet fever a year before their first courting season, which was a big deal according to their constant moaning and groaning about it.

You look ahead, your expression blank as if their high-pitched voices didn’t fill the streets and they weren't racing toward you with their skirts in their hands.

“My word! It’s the end of summer already?”

“Atticus, you’ve grown taller!”

“What a handsome boy! Y/n, your shorts are too short, don’t you think?”

“It’s quite bizarre how such clothing is acceptable these days.”

“How beautiful you’d look in a gown like ours!”

“Where’s Alabaster?” Janie asks, attempting to circle her arm around Atticus’s, but he raises his arm to push back his damp hair to avoid the contact. She scoffs at his rejection and sighs.

“Alabaster was sweeter to us than you guys!” Celia pouts. Your heart sinks a little at the mention of him. Of course, they’d ask about him, and of course, your father will ask too.

Gods! Your father will ask about him.

You had forgotten you’d have to break the news today. These past few weeks, you debated whether or not you should do it by letter, but it felt wrong. It was only right that he’d find out in person.

“We know you can hear us,” Janie huffs.

“I hope dad doesn’t work late tonight. Do you think Grandma will be waiting for us?” You ask. As annoying as it was having spirits follow you, it was a little fun ignoring them when convenient for you. Atticus nods,

“Probably-”

“No one’s home,” Celia cuts in, and Atticus pretends to shoo a bug away to conceal that he paused from her interruption.

“But I don’t think dad is going to take long. He said his last lecture ended at three,” Atticus continues, and you nod.

‘I hope grandma came by to visit. I missed her.”

“I just said no one’s home.” Celia snaps, and you press your lips together to hide your smile.

Atticus sighs. “I know, I’m dying for those moon cookies she makes us.” At the mention of those cookies, your stomach grumbles. You hope Celia was wrong because you’re suddenly craving your grandmother’s cooking and her company. Her funny stories and voice that’s always a little too loud for the indoors never fails to cheer you up. As short and frail as she is, her voice and personality could fill a room.

“Me too,” you say shortly.

“Hello?!” Celia waves her handkerchief in your face, and you persisted in ignoring her. Suddenly, a sound of disgust comes from Janie as she brushes off her skirt.

“Y/n, retrieve this monster of yours!” She squeals as Ambrose bites the fabric of her dress, tugging on it with a growl.

“Damn this dog,” Celia shouts, attempting to shoo him away, but yelps in surprise as Ambrose snaps his jaw shut near her hand. “Get this thing under control! Y/n!”

Your hand comes up to cover your smile even though the two are shuffling behind you and a stifled chuckle comes from Atticus. The sound of Janie’s heels on the concrete becomes louder as she rushes beside Atticus again, and your smiles drop. The sight of your house comes into view, and you tilt your head confused; your father’s car is parked in the driveway.

“You said no one was home?” You say out loud, and Celia gasps beside you,

“Now you speak to me?” She snaps, halting as you approach the fence. She stands tall, hands folded in front of her elegantly as Janie’s expression is gleaming like a child on Christmas. “Your father requested to keep it a secret, so I obliged his wishes. He canceled his last lecture today to make you both a meal. What a lovely man.”

Your hand finds the latch for the white picket fence as you smile at the familiar narrow victorian-style house ahead of you. A path of cobblestone leads you to the brick steps of the small porch.

Your home sticks out from the more modern American houses that surround the area. It’s an antique, a snippet of history, as your father likes to say. The house is a russet brown only because the bricks are so old they’ve darkened in color. The house accents such as the window trims, porch overhang, and columns are copper, and the hipped roof has brown tiles that look like fish scales. Beside the porch, the bay windows from both stories stack on top of each other, and above the porch roof is the dormer that’s a part of your bedroom.

Gods, you’re yearning to be in your room. You just want to pull out your Murphy bed from the wall and bury yourself in your sheets. The idea of being in bed puts a pep in your step, and you are careful to avoid the salt ring that surrounds your house.

A butterfly passes by your face, flying to the bunchberry bushes your father has planted in the front garden. Among the grass, there are various flowers and herbs that your father grows in the summer. You’ve inherited many things from your father, but his green thumb isn’t one of them. He takes his gardening seriously while you can barely keep the cacti in your room alive.

“Enjoy your meal! Come talk to us one of these days. We missed you two!” Janie shouts after you as you make your way up the stairs. You turn around, Atticus smiling at them.

“We missed you, girls, too,” he says as if he didn’t want to admit it. Janie squeals something about how handsome his smile is, and you scoff, amused as you grab the doorknob.

Once you push the door open, you're hit with a rush of deja vu. The history channel plays faintly in the next room as you take in the home you’ve missed dearly.

There are two bookshelves against the wall on your right, a wide ledge with pillows under the bay windows. A messy coffee table filled with letters and stacked with books sits in front of the comfy reading nook, letting you know that your father was recently hanging out there.

There is a brown mahogany staircase that ascends upstairs to your left, and right beside it is the altar for your mother. A statue of her rests in the middle of the rectangle table covered in a black table cloth. On top of it lies the many offerings for your mom. Herb-dressed candles burn beside bowls of fruit, bouquets, a crystal enamel wine glass filled with alcohol, feathers, and other things. You ignore the altar as you put down your stuff beside the door, following Atticus as he takes off his shoes.

“Kids?” You hear your father call enthusiastically from beyond the foyer, and you persist forward into the entryway ahead of you.

“We’re home!” Atticus announces as he enters beside you. Ambrose barks making a beeline to the right and behind the kitchen counter. He jumps on your father with so much force he stumbles back.

“Gods! Why does he look even bigger?” Your father exclaims through a laugh, fixing the round glasses that threaten to slip off his nose as his other hand grips Ambrose’s paw. He yelps in surprise as Harvey's claws rest on top of his head, clinging to his hair to steady himself.

The warmth and smell of home fill your senses as you catch your dad’s gaze. “Well, come here! Are you going to hug your pops or what?”

You rush over with Atticus. Both of you hug your dad tightly on either side of him, and you smile as he presses a kiss on your temples. “I missed you guys so much!”

“We missed you too!” The smile on your face falters as he looks up, scanning the archway as if he was waiting for someone else. You shift, not ready to be faced with the question, and you peer around his body to look at the food on the stove behind him.

Your father notices your interest, and he chuckles. “Come on, let’s eat. You guys came right on time.”

You shuffle through the kitchen with Atticus, making your way to the rounded table at the end of the kitchen.

“Dad, what have you been up to?” Atticus asks teasingly, and your father perks up.

“I've done a lot of things to keep me busy. I volunteered to teach summer classes while you were gone. I’m reading this book with a fascinating perspective of the shift from Paganism to Christianity in Rome. It’s an amazing read; I highly recommend it. Though, I don’t quite agree with it.” Your father hums thoughtfully. “Oh! And I bought gnomes for our garden! And the thrift store had this little house and this old lady figurine! I put it on the porch. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but she’s the official guard of the door," he declares proudly. "And…” He twists and turns before heading to the bookshelves in the living room area. He grabs something from the shelf then he showcases a cartoon Dobby bobblehead with wide arms. A high-pitched cackle leaves his lips. “It completes our collection!”

“Woah! Where did you get it? We went to three different places for it, and we couldn’t find it.” Atticus matches your father’s excitement, and you snort at the two.

“I went to a mythology convention in Boston a few weeks ago. There was a game stop across the street from the center, and I thought, ‘why not?’ I went in, and I saw this little guy by the register.” Your father is giddy as he nudges the head and watches it jiggle in his hands.

You think of what your grandmother’s reaction would be if she saw all the things he bought on his trip to the thrift store. She’d definitely complain. She always said that even growing up, your father had a liking for knickknacks. On your shelves and counters, there are always little trinkets lying around. It even extends to the walls, a variety of paintings and diagrams are neatly hung beside each other. From the state of your house, it’s clear your father is a maximalist in its purest definition.

“Wow! That’s awesome!” Atticus reaches out his hand for it as your father brings over his entire collection of Harry Potter bobbleheads, the toys huddled in his chest before he places them on the dining table. “The whole gang can hang out with us for dinner.”

“I hope they like pasta,” Atticus comments, lining them up as your dad retrieves the pan of food.

Your stomach grumbles at the sight, and you’re quick to serve yourself as Atticus and your Dad talk about anything and everything. You guys discuss what your grandmother has been up to, how your father’s classes were going, which led your father to ramble so much he formed a tangent on top of another. The conversation was going so well that you were sure he wouldn’t ask about your summer, but you had assumed too soon.

“So enough about me! How was Camp?” Your father chirps, and you shift in your seat.

You smile with confidence to hide the wariness you felt. “It was great!” You figured if you keep your answer short, you could move past it quickly.

“Yeah, the usual. Fun as always,” Atticus adds.

Your father’s eyes flicker between the two of you, and the first thing he notices is the way your smiles don’t reach the rest of your face.

The clanging of metal utensils on glass plates fills the room as the both of you fixate on your food but neither take a bite. The camp was never a touchy subject. The sudden unwillingness to speak about it makes his eyebrow cock up in suspicion. His eye averts to the empty dining chair beside you and the dinner place settings that remained untouched. Alabaster was supposed to join your return home. At least, that’s what he had assumed.

“Did Alabaster decide to stay at his foster home?” There’s caution in his tone, and he’s taken aback at how both you and Atticus tense up. The clings of metal halt abruptly, and slowly, you move to glance at your father.

“Dad, something happened at camp this summer.” Now, it was your turn to have a tone laced with caution. Alabaster lived with you for months and quickly became a part of the family. Your father saw him as his second son, and you were afraid to break the news that he may never see him again.

“What happened? Did he get into trouble?” You frown at the sudden edge in his voice. Atticus shifts beside you,

“He took the others to go fight for the Titan Lord.”

“What?”

“Mother came to speak to him and told him that it was best to fight for the other side since their chances are better,” you say slowly. “They left at the end of July. Only Atticus, Lou Ellen, and I stayed at camp.”

Your father’s expression darkens, grief written all over his face. “And you haven’t seen them since?”

You shake your head, not wanting to delve into the details. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again in a while and not in the best circumstances.” Your father nods, understanding the implication in your words. “Mother promised that she’d take care of them if they fight for the other side. I didn’t want to go; it wasn’t right.”

“That must be why everything is rotting,” your father mutters more to himself. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Rotting? What’s rotting?”

“Our offerings to your mother,” he clarifies. “All the fruit I leave on her altar goes bad in a few days. The flowers wither quickly too. The garden, in general, hasn’t been doing well either. I didn’t understand why.”

Your focus returns to your plate. Suddenly, you weren’t that hungry anymore.

She must be angry, you think to yourself. A part of you wanted a sign from her to let you know if she was bothered you didn’t join. When the sign didn’t come, you assumed she didn’t care; that, in a way, you were dead to her. It didn’t dawn on you to ask how the altar or the garden your father dedicated to her was doing.

“Can I be excused?” You strain, your face a little hot, and you’re not sure if it was from your anger or from the tears you’re blinking away.

“Of course.” The warm smile on your father’s face fails to budge the dread you’re feeling. “You can be excused as well, Atticus.”

You miss the way your father and Atticus exchange looks as you stood up. There wasn’t a verbal agreement, but Atticus stands up tall, determined to make you feel better. He trails behind you, and suddenly, he slings his arm across your shoulders. “You know what’s one of the things I missed at camp?”

“What?” You ask, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

“Beating you at Tekken,” Atticus teases. Your lips curve slightly; his playful nature manages to brighten up your mood a little bit. “Let’s play. I’ll go easy on you, but I’m sure you’ll still lose regardless.”

“You’re on,” you nudge him, and Atticus chuckles, walking ahead of you and up the stairs. Your hand grips the railing, and you walk up a few steps before halting, and your eyes find the front door.

“You don’t get it!”

“I don’t.” You shrugged, amused at the way Atticus’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief. He ignored you, grabbed the remote, and played the Star Wars movie again. You groaned, seeing the slanted letters move up the TV screen. “Atticus! I can’t watch this!”

“Why not?!”

“Well, first off, my dyslexia won’t let me read that quickly, and if a physically written prologue is needed before a movie… it’s not a good movie!”

“How dare you!” You threw your head back as a laugh bubbled in your throat. The exasperated look on his face was too funny. You had no desire to watch these movies, and you figured if you bothered him enough, he’d give up trying to show them to you. The shrug of your shoulders made him scoff. “Just watch it!”

A huff left your lips, and unwillingly, you returned your gaze to the screen. Suddenly, a hollow knock came from the front door.

“It’s late,” you said, but Atticus was too caught up in the beginning battle of the movie to pay any mind to you. Rarely did you get visitors, definitely not past midnight on a Friday. Cautiously, you rose from the couch and moved toward the door.

Rain erratically hit against your curtain-covered windows; the wind and cold made the walls around you creak as they adjusted. Whatever waited for you at the door, you just wished it was a person, not a weird ghost or monster. Your finger latched on the side of the curtain, allowing you to peek through the glass of your front door.

A gasp left your lips. Alabaster, soaked from the ruthless rain outside, was the last person you expected to see. But even though you didn’t expect him, you had an inkling as to why he was here.

Hastily, you unlocked the door and flung it open. “Al?” You sputtered; his green orbs were surrounded by tired eyes and puffy skin.

“He died this morning,” he strained. Your expression softened, and before you could say anything, Alabaster stepped forward and hugged your shoulders tightly. The raggedness of his breath, the shutter of his body, sent your chest a weight of sorrow. You couldn’t imagine being in his shoes and losing your father to a long battle with cancer at 14. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes; the person you looked up to the most was breaking down. You never thought he would need your help for anything, but it seems that you were wrong. “I’m sorry. You guys live the closest to me, and I didn’t know where to go-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted. “Oh, Al, I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked, hands rubbed his back as a sob left his lips. A creak of a floorboard caught your attention, and you turned to see a confused Atticus emerging from the living room. With a sad look, he understood what happened, and soon his expression was mimicking yours.

“I’ll wake dad and get clothes,” he said, then rushed upstairs.

Your father didn’t even hesitate to help Alabaster, opening the doors of your house to him. In his greatest time of need, the three of you stood beside him, and overnight, he had a place in your home and in your heart. The three of you spent so much time playing video games, getting into trouble around town, learning magic. All the good times you and Atticus shared with him, were they really worth throwing away to fight with Kronos? You realize now that his departure was never only a betrayal to the camp but to you, Atticus, and your father, and you couldn’t help but think perhaps, you guys didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to you.

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth at the thoughts persistent to ruin your mood. The desire to leave camp was to avoid all the things that reminded you of your siblings, but now that you returned home, you realize that running away isn’t as easy as you thought.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @idk-bye-no @ilvermornyidiot @all-hailreyna @blackpopcorn @autmngirlworld @sunkissedskin1328 @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @hajigayy @aleksanderwh0r3 @drayshadow @tonyedwardstarkk @londoncherry @ashookykooky @lotusnegra666 @loverstyless @t0xicmuse @ohmydamgods @jordannfields @tomriddles-wh0re @chasingpj @pixietilly1924 @amy-writes-blog @muted-mayham @shawkneecaps @cbmelody @dreamerball @earthtokace @thehighladyofday @theverydramaticcabbage @lala-llama123 @tootsdoll @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @black-rose-29 @somekidnamedkai @possiblylostchasecousin @silver-gemini @vodkavanity @hamdehlesmis @shadowsndaisies @cami05sworld @does-anyone-hear-me @scarlets-widow

if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

#percy jackson and the olympian fic #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x you #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x y/n #my writing #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction

165 notes · View notes

odos-bucket · 3 years ago

Text

More Protective!Batdad Fic, With the Pretense that this is a Series Mostly Given Up

They’re returning to the cave after Robin’s first night out since the start of Tim’s parents’ most recent stay in the city. It had been a routine patrol, made noteworthy only by the return of the boy wonder. They’d gotten into a bit of a scuffle with some muggers towards the end of the night, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle, and they had both come away from it unharmed. At least that was what Bruce thought at the time. And he paid pretty close attention to things.

But when the domino mask comes off he can clearly see where Tim has a black eye, and a bruise blooming over his cheek.

“What happened?” He leaves his cowl and gloves on the computer, and takes a few steps closer to where Tim is fishing his civilian clothes out of a bag.

“Huh?” Tim bunches up the shirt he’s holding into a fist, and his eyes dart around for a moment without settling on Bruce. “Oh.” Fingers of his free hand fly up to hover over his injured cheek. “Thief got in a lucky shot.” His voice is a fraction of an octave higher than usual.

Bruce’s eyes automatically narrow as he begins his mental recall of the events that had transpired less than twenty minutes prior.

“I didn’t see you get hit,” he says slowly.

Tim just shrugs.

The bruise is too dark to be less than half an hour old anyway. It had to have come from sometime earlier in the day. It had been hidden beneath the mask though, and they’d both already been in full costume when they’d met earlier that evening.

Before Bruce can say anything else, Tim is ducking into a private alcove to finish getting changed. He’s a bit slower at it than usual, and Bruce wonders if that could be indicative of other hidden injuries, or if Tim is just drawing it out to avoid further scrutiny. Several minutes go by, and he finally clears his throat.

“Tim?”

“Just a second.” The words come out quickly.

Bruce goes to change himself, only to find that Tim still isn’t out by the time he’s finished and returned. He knocks gently on the wall that’s partitioning off the section of the cave where he’s changing, and hears a soft startled gasp, before Tim’s scurrying out.

“Yep! Sorry! Sorry! Just a little spaced.”

“Tim.” Bruce hopes his voice sounds gentle. “What happened?”

“What do you mean? I told you-“

“Don’t lie to me. That didn’t come from just now.” Bruce pauses and sighs. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Tim shakes his head.

“I won’t tolerate you hiding injuries from me.”

“I’m not.”

They stand looking at each other for several drawn out, silent seconds.

“Were you patrolling on your own?” Bruce asks after a minute. “I’m going to find out if you-“

“No.” Tim sounds even less like his normal self when he cuts in. “I promise I wasn’t.”

“All right. So what is it? Did something happen during the day?”

As much as Bruce wants to know about it if Tim’s getting into fights at school, or somewhere else, he recognizes that it may not be his place to intervene if this wasn’t vigilante related. That’s fine (at least so he tells himself) but he’d like assurance that someone’s looking out for his Robin.

“Is it something you can handle with your parents?” He tries.

Tim’s eyes widen for half a second, and then he bursts into tears.

Bruce briefly freezes, before returning to himself and rushing to Tim’s side.

“I’m so stupid,” Tim is muttering, barely discernibly. “I’m sorry. I was so stupid.” The words barely come out between bouts of gasping, shuddering sobs.

Bruce wants to beg him to tell him what happened, but settles for reaching out a careful arm, and slowly pulling him close. Tim freezes for a fraction of a second, before melting into his side, continuing to mumbled unintelligibly.

“It’s all right,” Bruce tries to sooth, very aware that he doesn’t really have the voice for that sort of thing. “You’re okay.” He desperately wishes that he could offer some more specific reassurances, but he still doesn’t know what’s going on. “I’ve got you,” he settles for, running a hand through Tim’s hair.

They stay like that for a while, Tim crying, and apologizing, and Bruce telling him it’s okay, and wishing he could be sure that it was true. Eventually the tears dry up, and the breathing evens out, and the tense body beside his goes limp with exhaustion. Bruce doesn’t let go, not until he feels Tim starting to shift around restlessly. And even then he stays close enough to be easily collapsed into again, should the need arise.

“I messed up,” Tim says, after a few false starts.

“Whatever it is, we can fix it.” A ridiculous promise, and one that Bruce normally wouldn’t be making without more information. But somehow- without Bruce meaning to allow him to- Tim has joined the narrow ranks of those capable of inducing him to speak or behave a-procedurally.

Tim shakes his head.

“Tim, I want to help, but you have to give me something to work with.”

Tim is too focused on keeping his eyes dry, and his breathing steady to respond.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Bruce forces himself to offer, forces himself to remember that this child isn’t his, doesn’t need him the way the other robins did.

Another sob escapes Tim, and he buries his face in his hands. There’s a pang in Bruce’s chest as he realizes what he has to ask next.

“Did something happen at home?”

The question is met with heavy breathing, followed by a drawn out silence, and then, finally, a slow nod.

Bruce forces down his rising anger, as Tim finally gathers himself to speak.

“I don’t know if they want me to go back.” It comes out in a hoarse whisper. “Dad was so mad at me.”

Fury coils in Bruce’s gut, and lies in wait for his next question to be answered.

“Did he do this?” He gestures to the black eye.

“It’s never happened before,” Tim rushes to say. “Nothing like this ever has.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Bruce practically growls. Tim, to his credit, seems entirely unaffected by the intensity of the tone.

“I started it,” he says.

“… There’s no way that’s true.”

“Bruce,” Tim chokes out, leaning back into him.

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Bruce pulls him close like he could absorb Tim into himself, like if he holds him tightly enough he can keep him safe- as if he’s actually capable of keeping any child safe. This will never happen again, he wants to say, I won’t let it. His mind is racing. He doesn’t want to let Tim back into that house, doesn’t want to let him out of his sight really. He’s never been able to fathom how the Drakes can have this selfless, determined, brilliant child in their care, and be so willing to spend all their time away from him. He’s been wary of them from the beginning. But he never imagined that they could pose this kind of danger to their son.

“This is so stupid,” Tim grumbles into Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce can’t disagree, though he’s a little worried that they aren’t on the same page about what exactly that means.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Tim continues after a minute. “I thought- I thought things were going well!”

“Telling me was the right thing to do,” Bruce says quickly. “If somebody’s hurting you- no matter who it is-“

“That isn’t what I mean.” He takes a deep breath, and leans back a little bit.

Bruce watches patiently, as Tim calms his nerves, and steadies himself.

“I… told Mom and Dad about Connor,” he breathes. “Not the alien clone thing, obviously. But, I told them that I was seeing someone- a guy- and I don’t even know why I did it! In the back of my head I knew there was no way it was going to go over well. I knew that. I was just, I don’t know, feeling happy, and okay for the first time in a while. So I thought-“ He shakes his head. “I mean I didn’t think; that was the problem. And Mom reacted the way I knew she- the way I should have known she would. And I got mad, and I started yelling at her, and Dad, when I yelled at her, Dad, that’s when he- he…”

Bruce’s heart breaks. It’s not like he’d imagined that Jack Drake would have a good reason for lashing out at his son, but this was nothing.

“I’m still not hearing anything that you did wrong.” He forces himself to stay calm.

“Trying to come out to them was dumb! I didn’t need to do it. They were leaving soon anyways, it shouldn’t have mattered!”

“No. They shouldn’t have hurt you,” Bruce says fiercely. “This is part of who you are, so it should always matter. It’s not stupid to assume that people who are supposed to care about you would want to know more about what’s going on in your life. Tim, you did nothing wrong.”

He runs a hand up and down his back, like he’d done when Dick had nightmares as a child.

Tim glances at him out of the glassy corner of his eye, and scrubs his hands roughly over his face, before mumbling something that Bruce doesn’t catch.

He waits for a beat, before quietly asking if Tim will repeat himself.

“They don’t want me coming around here anymore,” he says more clearly, voice suddenly empty. “They- they saw that interview you did a couple years back, where you came out as bisexual.” His face is tinged pink, ashamed to even be repeating his parent’s words. “So they think that I, I don’t know, caught it from you, like it’s contagious or something. But I didn’t know where else to go! And I- I don’t want to give this up…“ He gestures broadly to the cave around them as hiccuping breaths overpower his speech.

Bruce just holds on as Tim continues to cry, softly repeating that he didn’t do anything wrong, carefully keeping the furious voice raging, ‘those bastards won’t take you away from me,’ under wraps. He doesn’t let himself think about every other instance of his sexuality being cited as a factor making him an unsuitable guardian that he’s committed to precise memory, the vicious arguments that his children should be taken away from him, the fact that if he hadn’t been born so lucky in so many other ways they might have been. Tim doesn’t need him to be angry, Tim needs him to be smart.

They wait out the tears again, until they’re not falling so heavily, and Tim is shuddering occasionally, rather than continuously, and can compose himself enough to speak.

“I didn’t mean to dump all this on you,” he says once he’s mostly calmed down.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Bruce threads his fingers through locks of lightly tangled hair. “I’m so glad you told me what happened. You’re going to stay here tonight, okay?”

Tim is with them often enough when his parents aren’t around that they already have a room made up for him, a room which after less than a year has come to show more evidence of his personality than his bedroom at the Drake’s mansion.

Tim nods.

“Thank you.”

Bruce squeezes his shoulder.

“Do you still have pajamas here? Or do you need to borrow a pair of Dick’s?”

It’s something easy in a moment where everything feels impossibly difficult.

“I brought them with me when I went home.” His breath catches on the last word, and it only half comes out.

“That’s all right. Dick won’t mind.”

Now it’s just a matter of getting themselves upstairs. There will be more to worry about tomorrow, much more, and it will undoubtedly only increase in the days that follow. Bruce will have to figure out whether or not Jack and Janet Drake are looking for their son, and he can’t quite decide which the worse option is at this point. He’ll also need to make sure he understands what exactly is within his power to do to keep Tim safe. Bruce stops himself before he can begin preparing for the future too obsessively. He brings himself back to the present moment, stairs, pajamas, bed, all very manageable tasks.

He just really doesn’t want to let go of the child in his arms. The realization that Tim might need him more than he thought is overpowering, making him feel violently protective, and a little bit terrified.

Some of the strain of the moment breaks when Tim uses the side of Bruce’s arm to stifle a yawn, but it’s still a little while longer before they’re ready to head upstairs.

When they do, Tim wanders up to his room, where Bruce hopes he’ll find easy rest. He stays awake and finds Alfred. There’s a lot they need to talk about.

#batfam #batfamily #tim drake #bruce wayne #batman and robin #batman #dc #batdad #jack and janet drake #my writing

170 notes · View notes

sammoonwatcher · 3 years ago

Text

A fic for

@dbh-found-family event

Despair... ---> Hope

Sorry I still don't know how to do the cut off in mobile. So angst beyond this point.

Despair

It wasn't exactly unfamiliar to the old Lieutenant. It was a presence as familiar to him as his own scent of sweat and reeking, burning alchohol. It rarely left his side. Until he had something else taking up its place. An annoyance for sure. That android who never left him alone. Who kept repeating himself like the glorified answering machine he was. Never obeying an order like...

Well. He appreciated the annoyance over the despair. Annoyance was grating, it made life difficult. Despair on the other hand was crushing, and made life at times unbearable. Day by day the annoyance became less grating. Though the old Lieutenant would never admit it. He was starting to find himself just a little less hostile to the damn evidence locker with legs. Hell, he was even starting to get along with it. He didn't even realize when in his mind that It became He and Tincan became Connor.

But he could pin point the exact damn second he became son.

As much as he'd like to forget it.

He didn't think of much while at the tower. Other than that an awful lot of mess had been made to broadcast a single message. Thank whoever there was to thank there were no casualties. (At the time he believed it to be sheer luck rather than the grace of the deviant leader). He was still swaying on his feet from the night before and he was more than content to find a corner to sulk in and let the forensics roomba do his own damn job. Though he found himself trying to match the coin tricks that the annoying thing could always pull out of no where. He was collecting witness testimony from the swat team when Connor rounded the corner Thirium was dripping from a weird circle in his lower chest and his normally tidy suit had been torn.

"It's a deviant stop it!"

Hank turned his head to the android that had just been called out only to see it steal the fully automatic arms of a swat officer.

Out of all the times in his life to feel despair... he didn't even particularly feel it then as the barrel was lowered at him.

The Lieutenant knew the sound of gunshots but at first he couldn't figure how he was on the ground. Something was leaking all over him. It was too cold and sticky to be blood. He opened his eyes against the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway. Connor's face hovered above him. He pushed the android off of him, taking in the destruction around him. The deviant must've taken out at least 3 people, itself not included.

"Goddamn..." The Lieutenant swore. "Good thing you were there Con-"

He froze as he looked back and saw the android, his partner... in a puddle of blue blood. It had the consistency something like motor oil. It stained his hands and his clothes as he pulled the android into his arms. The bullets had shut him down instantly. His led had no life. The bullets were nestled safely in his chassis. Bullets that were meant for a human. Bullets that were meant for Anderson himself. The blue coated his hands. A crushing wave of despair washed over him, something he didn't even know he had left in him.

God he still had nightmares about that. Every time he'd wake up in a cold sweat and have to enter Cole's... no, now Connor's room, and see that slow blue spinning led light. Just remind himself that Connor was okay. That Connor was safe, and not throwing his life away for some stupid old alcoholic... god it made his heart stop aching.

Androids slept so weirdly. Connor always said he never had any dreams. Even the Lieutenant could see that wasn't true. The way the kid snored sounded like an old style laptop's cooling fan. Every now again a word or two would slip out, like just listening to the android was like listen to a radio with randomly changing frequencies. But sometimes a whimper would come through. Or the led would turn red. The worst of times was when he kept whispering a name.

Amanda.

Hank didn't know who this Amanda was. But he was sure if he ever met her he'd have to remove his reservations against hitting women. After all that name was never whispered like the other words. It was filled... seething with so much goddamn Despair.

It sounded so much like a human... no. So much like Hank himself. He couldn't stand it. He found that, it was enough to tuck the kid in, make sure his pillow wasn't too hot to put the led back to blue.

It always made Hank so tired in the morning. He knew it wasn't normal behavior but he didn't have a normal kid damnit. Connor was clearly going through something he couldn't ever grasp. And he wasn't a normal parent. He had Connor die in arms three times too many. And another son pass as well. But this time if Connor died... without the cyberlife network to back him up, he'd simply cease to exist. He would die. Hank would be alone... until the rest of his miserable human days.

"Hank..." Connor said one day. "... I've noticed you've been monitoring my sleep patterns."

Hank sighed, at least he wasn't calling him Lieutenant anymore.

"It was that obvious?" He said sarcastically.

"Well I first noticed on nights when I achieved a high quality sleep, you were always exhausted." Connor explained. "Then one morning I woke up and you were still there by my bed... sleeping. So yes... it was obvious."

Hank didn't expect to find himself reacting the way he did.

"... sorry kiddo. I didn't make you feel uncomfortable did I?"

"On the contrary... you aided my sleep cycle... I'm just confused why you felt the need to do so."

"... well you're my son. Every father protects their kid from nightmares... give them hope and safety."

"Hope..." Connor said softly. The Lieutenant could just see the kids eyes glaze over and he gained the 100 yard stare. The revolution. The torment. The suppression of will. The deaths he died for someone else. The lives he stole for someone else. Hank could practically just see the kid get swallowed up by it. It broke his heart.

The Lieutenant wrapped his arms around his son, snapping him out of the trance. Connor slowly moved to return the embrace, sobbing.

"Shit kid... I didn't mean to make you cry again."

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry .. I just... I wasn't made like this. I wasn't made deserving attention and support."

"Connor..." Hank muttered sadly, once again wishing he could personally 'interview' each and every goddamn cyberlife employee. How much of that worthlessness crap had they drilled into his head?

"... I wasn't built to be loved..." Connor whined. His voice just dripped with despair and pain. It just rang true for Hank.

"But you are loved Connor..." He said. "... now chin up. You're gonna help me find a new suit for you."

Connor pulled away, a bit confused, and his tie slightly off kilter.

"... why... why are we going shopping for new clothes?" Connor said.

"Because." Hank said, fixing the kid's tie. "You deserve it..."

The android's led slowly turned blue again as they walked to the car.

"... Hank?"

"Yeah kid?"

"... can we find new dog toys for Sumo after this?"

" 'course kid."

That night in new striped pajamas Hank tucked Connor in. Reading him a few things.

"... hey kid. Do you know what hope is?"

"Hope is the human concept that... well everything will be okay?"

"Something like that. There's a lot of bs about there about what people think hope is. Something with feathers. Something with wings."

"... that's not possible hope is not a physical object. How can it have wings?"

"I dunno."

"... what about you Lieutenant..?"

"... Me?"

"What do you think hope is?"

"... hope... hope is a strange... hard to understand thing. But you know that no matter what happens, you need to keep it by your side. Sometimes hope can be wrong. But alotta time's it's right... basically what I'm saying is... to me... hope... is an android sent by cyberlife."

He watched the realization slowly dawn on Connor's face.

"You consider me your hope Lieutenant?"

"It's hank and I do..."

Connor laid there a while. Not sure how to respond.

"... Hank... dad... I think you're my hope too. I love you."

"I love you too son."

#hope #despair #fic #it was a ficlet once #now big #dbh #dbh found family #connor anderson #hank anderson

55 notes · View notes

fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years ago

Text

You’ll Have To Come and Find Me (Part 3) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul Summary: Damian wakes up to hear Tim screaming at someone familiar. A/N: Between Robin #3 and #4! Damian is not going to remember being semi-conscious for this because I said so.

Ao3

When Damian felt consciousness take hold, his first thought was:

What the hell happened?

Connor Hawke and his coaches, the men Damian knew himself. They fought. He was thrown from a damn cliff. Then…his father caught…

No, not his father. Someone else. Some…something else?

He shifted onto his back, heart pounding. These were definitely not the blankets in Wayne Manor, or wherever his father was staying now. And the air…it still smelled tropical. He could hear the waves in the distance.

Was he still on Lazarus Island?

But before he could think about it further, before he could even force himself to wake up more, to focus and figure out what happened and where he was, there was a crash from outside where he slept.

A loud grunt snorted from behind him. His body didn’t move to react to it.

“…not believe you!” He heard shouted. Immediately, he felt his heart relax.

Drake.

“You really just don’t fucking let up, do you?” He was shouting, crashing continuing around him. He was knocking things over, Damian assumed.

“Settle, Young Detective.” Someone hummed. Someone who…who sounded a lot like his Grandfather. “You should be thanking me.”

“For what, kidnapping him?” Drake snarled. “Getting him beat to a pulp by your League of Shadows minions?”

There was a pause, then quietly. “I do not work with the League of Shadows any longer. I do not work with any of the Leagues I used to.”

“Bullshit.” Drake drawled. “But frankly, I don’t care. I don’t give a single shit about you. Just give Damian back to me.” A moment of tense silence. “Now.”

“He needs to heal. That’s what I was doing before you so rudely barged in here and knocked over all my tools.” Ra’s sighed. “And it’s not like I’m hiding him. He’s in my tent, right over there. Go see him, if you’d like.”

Drake said nothing else, but seconds later Damian heard the sound of footsteps in the sand.

The curtain across the door flapped open, and almost instantly there were cool fingers on Damian’s face.

“Damian,” Tim breathed, running his thumb across Damian’s cheek. Two fingers pressed against his throat. “Kid, can you hear me?”

Damian could only grunt. Tried opening his eyes, but even the low candlelight in the tent was too much. He had to squeeze them shut once more.

“Stay with me.” Tim whispered. “Come on, Dames, stay with me.”

Another rustle of the curtain. “I told you, Timothy. I was in the process of healing him.”

“For what?” Tim spat. “What do you get out of it?”

There was no answer. Damian heard his grandfather touching some papers and vials.

“…You don’t get to keep him.” Tim practically growled. “You don’t get to turn this into a debt that he has to repay.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Young Detective.” Ra’s hummed, like he was a tired parent. “…Did the Shadow goons get to you? Do you need some medical attention as well?”

“…No. No, I’m fine.” Tim sighed, gently patted at Damian’s chest. “I only caught the tail end of the fight. Saw them throw him. Saw what I now know was Goliath catch him and carry him off.”

Another large snort from the corner. Ra’s hummed.

There was silence for a few seconds. Just Tim with his hands on Damian’s face and chest, the sound of the waves and flickering flames. Breathing.

Then, a dip as Ra’s kneeled next to his cot, and the smell of herbs.

“…Timothy.” Ra’s hummed. Tim’s fingers twitched on Damian’s face. “You know the truth as well as I do, don’t you?”

“Depends on what that truth is.”

“…Damian should not be on that island.” Ra’s whispered. “He should not be involved in that tournament.”

“…I know.” Tim admitted quietly. Suddenly, a cold cloth was pressed against his arm. He gave a light moan and shivered. Tim gave a gentle shush. “But you know what they say, Ra’s. If you can’t be them, join them.”

Ra’s gave a chuckle. “I have a feeling you never said that about me.”

“I’d rather die.” Tim returned, just as cheerfully. Then his voice dropped again as he gave a long exhale. “But…he is right. There’s something not good about that tournament. And if he thinks he can take the operation down, I’m happy to be his backup.”

“Or his bodyguard.” Damian could hear the smirk in his voice. Tim scoffed. “You’re telling me you aren’t going to interfere if he begins to lose?”

“No.” Tim admitted. “Because he’s never going to get to that point.”

“Ah, you Bats and your confidence.” Ra’s laughed. “…He won’t be happy to see me.”

“I mean, I’m still not.” Tim agreed. “And I frankly still don’t trust that you don’t have ulterior motives.”

“Good. Stay on your toes.” Ra’s countered. Someone lifted Damian’s hand, and began rubbing an ointment on it. “You’ll protect him better that way.”

Tim didn’t answer that. For the next few minutes, no one spoke as Ra’s and Tim rebandaged and cleaned his wounds. Then, there was the sound of the curtain, and Damian sensed it was just him and his brother left.

Damian tried to roll over, gave a low groan. “Drake…!”

“You’re alright, Damian. It’s okay. You’re safe.” Tim swore. “We’re safe.”

Despite blearily hearing the conversation, and already sensing himself forgetting some of it, Damian wasn’t sure how much he believed that.

“Go back to sleep.” Tim whispered, running a hand over Damian’s head. It was lulling him back into the darkness. “I’m here, I won’t let Ra’s do anything to you.”

And Damian couldn’t help himself. As the darkness fogged over his mind, he croaked weakly, “…Promise?”

Tim’s hand stilled, and he watched Damian inhale, then go limp in unconsciousness. He gave the boy a sad smile, then carefully resumed petting at his locks.

“Promise.”

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #Ra's al Ghul

22 notes · View notes

akalei · 4 years ago

Text

Today’s The Day

I’m not dead and neither is this AU! Thank you all so much for the love and as always I hope you enjoy and please feel free to send me asks for more info :)

@ozmav

@kelelamentia

@resignedcatservant

@imfreakingmagical

@northernbluetongue

@tinybrie

@constancetruggle

@foofoocuddlypoopsgavesokkaapples

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@mooshoon

@hypnosharkrebeldreamer

@mystery-5-5

@vixen-uchiha

@persephonebutkore

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@wargraymon0709

@be-happy-every-day-please

@shreky-boi

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@7-sage-7

@thesunanditsangel

@ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat

@emeraldpuffguide

@aegyobutpsycho2

@bluefyoto94

@toodaloo-kangaroo

@zotinha456

@readeracctagmepls

@user00000003

@neakco

@nathleigh

@emjrabbitwolf

Today was THE day and Marinette was a complete mess. She barely slept but still managed to miss her alarm. While getting dressed she not only banged her knee on her desk but also fell down the stairs.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a complete and utter mess and she was only a bystander.

“Marinette, why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast?” her mother asked, looking at her daughter, concerned as she got up from the ground.

Marinette bit her lip as she glanced over at the empty bowl and plate of croissants on the table, “I don’t know Mom,” she placed a hand on her stomach already filled with knots, “I’m too nervous to eat.”

Sabine shook her head, “I know you’re worried about Adrien but there’s nothing more you can do to help him,” she reached out and kissed Marinette’s forehead, “just have faith and eat.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t like she didn’t have faith in Adrien or his Justice League approved lawyers, she just doesn’t trust Gabriel Agreste to keep things lawful.

Thankfully she was interrupted by a knock on the door, “sit down Sweetheart, I’ll get it,” her mother said as she lightly patted Marinette on the shoulder. Marinette did as she was told but didn’t touch the croissants.

“Marinette, Sweetheart it’s your friends from your club!” Sabine called out. Confused Marinette turned around to face the entryway to see Dick, M’gann, and Connor in her house.

“Today’s the day,” Dick said with a smile, “are you ready?”

All Marinette could do was just stare at him, it even took her a minute to realize her mouth was open, “what are you guys doing here?”

“We came because we were worried about you,” a voice said, belonging to a young man with forest green eyes who was standing apart from the rest of her friends.

“D-Damien?” Marinette squeaked, surprised to see him here. The boy didn’t give more than a shrug in response, his attention on anywhere but her.

“Are you done with breakfast Mari?” M’gann asked glancing at her empty plate, “because all of us were planning on watching the broadcast together in our hotel room,”

Marinette was still in shock, unable to form a complete sentence. Why in the world would they be here? It wasn’t their problem-

“We came because we’re friends,” Marinette glanced over at Connor, who always seemed to answer her unsaid questions, “we wanted to support you, both of you.”

Marinette felt the tension leave her shoulders, and she smiled, “Thank you,” she stood up and tugged her bag over her shoulder, ready to go, “I mean it.”

* * *

Marinette was overwhelmed, first by the size of Dick’s hotel room, and then by how many of her friends came to show their support. Perhaps she and Adrien weren’t as much of outsiders as they believed they were in the Justice League.

As soon as the broadcast started Marinette had plopped herself on the edge of one of the seats within the hotel room. She sat tall and rigid, her nerves as clear as day to Damien who had settled in the seat next to her. Damien didn’t pay much attention to the TV screen, his eyes trained on Marinette and her ever-changing expressions. As the court case progressed, Marinette’s knee bounced in anticipation and she gnawed on her lower lip with nerves. Caught between concern and annoyance Damien placed his hand on her knee to cease its bouncing.

Surprised, Marinette tore her gaze away from the screen to look at him. Her face red with embarrassment, “Sorry,” she apologized, her lower lip still caught under her teeth.

Damien grunted in response and left his land resting on top of her knee, keeping it from bouncing. Marinette quirked an eyebrow, unsure whether or not he was annoyed with her or just concerned in his own way. Soon the court broke for recess and the live broadcast switched to commercials. Without uttering a word, Damien pulled Marinette up by the hand and led them outside of the hotel room.

“What’re you-?” Marinette started to ask but trailed off as Damien stopped in front of a vending machine. He angrily fed it some euros and punched buttons, after, the machine spat out a bag of chips.

“Here, I know you haven’t had anything to eat,” he thrust the bag of chips out to her, “and you’re beginning to stress me out.”

Marinette gently took the bag from him, “sorry and thank you,” she smiled at him.

Damien wouldn’t meet her eyes, “no problem,” he leaned back against the vending machine, “anyways who is this guy to make you this worried?” he looked back at her almost reluctantly, “is he your boyfriend?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she let out a small laugh, “no, no we’re not dating,” she paused to figure out how to phrase their relationship, “he’s my partner, my person.” She opened the bag of chips and popped one into her mouth, “We met when we were 13 as civilians and had no idea that we were partners,”

Damien’s brow furrowed, “what do you mean you didn’t know?”

Marinette smiled, “just that, our master told us that we could never reveal our identities. That we could never trust anyone with that secret,” she shrugged, “and at the time we were so overwhelmed with everything going on we didn’t second guess the rule.”

“Sometimes it’s easier not to trust others,” Damien said crossing his arms across his chest, “you’re safer only trusting yourself.”

Marinette shook her head, “I disagree, when your fighting to protect others and risking your life,” she paused to catch Damien’s eye, “you don’t want to be alone, you want to have others supporting you and you have to be able to trust that they’ll have your back. And if that isn’t an option, you have to trust that they’ll make sure everyone else survives.”

There was a gravity to Marinette’s words that Damien wasn’t expecting. He knew that she was a hero, like his father, his brothers, like everyone in that hotel room but he didn’t realize how serious she was. She wasn’t a hero because it looked cool, she was a hero because she wanted to protect everyone even at the cost of her life. Uncomfortable with the sudden realization he changed the topic, “back to Adrien, how did the two of you go from not knowing anything to becoming partners that you’d risk everything for?”

Marinette huffed out a laugh, “we had to grow up,” she popped another chip into her mouth, “we learned what being Miraculous holders meant, that we were cosmically linked and the responsibility that we have to bear forced us to reevaluate what was important to us. And after what happened with the invasion, Adrien and I were done with secrets. If we were to be heroes we were going to do it our way, on our terms.”

“So what happened to land the two of you in this situation?” Damien asked, “I know bits and pieces from Tim and Dick but-” he trailed off.

Marinette folded her half-empty chip bag, “well, it’s a bit complicated. Adrien’s home situation was never the same after his mom died. His father pulled away from the public eye and Adrien was completely isolated in his own home. He was only allowed to go to school after some major convincing from our friend Chloe Bourgeois who is also the mayor’s daughter. And even then if he didn’t live up to his father’s expectations he was immediately confined back home. Long story short he was being abused and thought it was normal,” Marinette looked up from the chip bag, “and then we found out that his father is Hawkmoth,”

Damien’s eyes widened.

“So to the public today is all about exposing Gabriel Agreste’s shitty parenting but for the League, the Team, for me it’s about ensuring that he’s safe.”

Damien nodded, not knowing what else to say.

Marinette just smiled as if sensing his unease, “We should get back, don’t want to miss the verdict.”

Damien followed Marinette back to the hotel room. He watched her stare at the screen, hands wrinkling the chip bag. But his mind was elsewhere, when he first met the girl he thought he had her all figured out. It was in his training to observe and read people, to determine if they were threats or not. And Marinette seemed like an idealistic hero, just like the other kids he met through his father and brothers. Sidekicks who were training to be heroes because of a dream or because they somehow obtained powers. Kids who didn’t know the harsh reality of the world they live in, the reality that Damien had been trained and prepared for since his birth. He thought Marinette was one of those sidekicks, perhaps a little less idiotic but she was so kindhearted, so idealistic. But he was wrong, about many things. About Marinette’s strength, the reason why she’s a hero, and about her partner. Damien didn’t want to admit it but the little rich boy he had written off as a joke, as a poor excuse of a hero was actually a lot like him.

“It’s over!” Marinette shouted and startled Damien. He looked up at the television screen to see Adrien with a look of relief on his face, and a scowl on Gabriel Agreste’s. The entire room erupted into a ruckus and suddenly, Marinette pressed a kiss against Damien’s cheek. Shocked, Damien lifted a hand, and lightly brushed his fingers against his cheek. He looked down to see Marinette with a big grin on her face, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Adrien won, we won!”

#ladybug young justice au #maribat #daminette #lyj

89 notes · View notes

smokahuntis · 4 years ago

Text

Anything for you

Paring: Connor kenway X reader

Warnings: angst, because I’m an angst queen, uhhh Haytham. Arranged marriage, mentions of murder... it’s assassins creed so...

Summery: during a small hunting trip Connor wonders across a lost women who he can’t keep his mind off of

Authors note: this is my first Connor fic! And I’m sorry it took so long I just couldn’t think of anything for this and ended up forgetting I had it I won’t lie to you. But it’s here now!

Connor sighed heavily as he walked threw the forest, his large boots treading in the dirt as he looked threw the forest. Today’s hunt wasn’t good, neither was yesterday’s. He was the best hunter they had and yet it’s like he was the worst. He couldn’t explain it for the life of him but it was starting to frustrate him.

Maybe he’d have better luck up High, in the trees. A smiled grew on his face at the thought before he scaled his way up the tree and threw the large heft branches until he heard something. The sound of snapping twigs below him, below the trees, that’s what called his attention.

Looking down quickly he was amazing to find not a wolf, bear or even a deer, but a girl. A women, a women like he’d never seen. Dressed in a fine dress of blue and white hues, her hair curled and falling down her back as she ran. Holding up her dress as she sprinted threw the large forest, but why was she running? Soon as he began to ask himself that question he was cut off by a large growl not far away, a bear.

He didn’t hesitate to start shooting arrows at the large beast as he jumped down from the trees to fight it. He was a talented hunter so a bear like this was nothing for him, it was quick work really. Only one scratch when he knocked the beast to the ground and looked up at the scared girl who just watched the whole time.

She was terrified and he could tell by the way her hands shook and the tears roll down her face. He quickly moved to her and grabbed her face gently with his large rough hands.

“Hey-hey it’s okay... it’s okay...” he whispered wiping the tears from under her eyes “he can’t bother you anymore” he smiled kindly moved his other hand to grab hers, the both fit in his so easily

“What’s your name?” He asked her.

“(Y/n)” she whispered in her shaky tone. “(Y/n) McCormick” she whimpered leaning into his warm touch like she’d never been touched before.

“Well- (y/n)... what are you doing out here?” He asked her pushing messy hair from her face, she was so beautiful, even when she was crying, even when her face was all red and panicked.

“I-I came-I came out because I-I was I-I was trying to-to get some peace and - and quiet and then I was to stuck in my head I walked to far and-and” she whimpered and cried more, it made him sad to see such a beautiful girl like this, shaking in fear.

“Hey-hey it’s okay- I’ll help you out of here alright?” He smiled and kissed her forehead, taking her hand and wiping her tears.

“T-thank you” she stuttered and sniffed as she started walking with him. She walked holding his arm and holding up her dress with her other hand as they wondered the forest.

“So what made you come out here?” He asked after a few moments of silence and she finally calmed down.

“My father... he’s... he’s betrothed me to a man I don’t even know...” she looked up at him and sighed “I shouldn’t tell you stuff like that you probably think I’m crazy for making such a big deal out of this”

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy” he looked at her “I think you should be able to choose your partner” he said kindly as he helped her step over a log, he knew the forest in and out so he had no problem helping her. “Can I ask who he’s betrothed you too?” He asked, it came off as kind but in the back of his head it was a vicious thought, a wrong thought to have for a man he doesn’t know.

“His names Haytham...” she answered looking up at him.

“H-haytham?” He said, the name itself shocked him inside and out. His father did not deserve a girl as beautiful as this, and definitely not one so young compared to him.

“Yes, haytham kenway... do you know him?” She asked seeing his expression.

“I-I do not- I do not know him” of course he knew him but that would be so weird if he just said ‘oh yea that’s my father’

“Oh...” she nodded and kept walking with him “I’ve heard of him, he’s one of my fathers good friends but he would never let me meet him...” she said softly

“How badly do you not want to marry this man?” He asked her as he started to see the town again

“Pretty badly...” she whispered holding his arm still even tho they could see the town.

“Why is your father making you marry him?” He asked.

“Because he thinks it’s what’s best for me...” she sighed heavily and looked down as they fit to the edge of the woods finally.

“Well I guess I’ll let you go here...” he whispered looking at her.

“I never got your name” she said looking at him with her big soft eyes.

“Oh, You can call me Connor” he smiled and wiped her face one last time so she looks alright to others.

“Thank you, Connor” she kissed his cheek and hugged him before hurrying back home before her parents worried to much.

Connor watched her leave and smiled to himself, his hand resting where her lips touched his skin. The moment didnt last however because now he had to find his father and stop this marriage.

It didn’t take long to find the old man in his study. Connor busted the doors open and looked at him with a bit of anger “cancel it”

“You know you don’t have to tear up my door every time you-“ Haytham started

“Cancel the wedding” Connor said firmly.

“Excuse me?” Haytham raised an eyebrow.

“With (y/n) you can’t marry her” he said in a deep growl, almost protective.

“And why can’t I?” Haytham crossed his arms.

“She’s unhappy- she’s to-to good for you” Connor claimed

“How do you know she’s unhappy? You don’t even know the girl”

“I do know her! I met her today in fact and she told me everything” Connor said sternly “I have not asked you for much in my life but all I ask now is this, call it off and let her be free”

“If I do that her father will just send her to someone else” Haytham said

“I’ll be that someone else!” Connor said almost excitedly but it didn’t last long

“You can not be that person Connor”

“And why not?” He groaned

“Because you’re an assassin...” Haytham said quietly yet stern.

“And-.... her fathers a Templar?” He asked furrowing his brows and looking at his father in shock and worry. Haytham only nodded and sat back down in his seat.

“Shay McCormick... I believe your creed knows him” Haytham sighed.

“Of course... I should’ve known...” he shook his head and ran his fingers threw his hair.

“If you’ve just meet her today, why do you care so much for who she marries...” Haytham stood again and slowly walked towards his son.

“Because she’s the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen...” he looked back at his father “I don’t even know her but to see her cry made me feel broken, father...” he whispered. “I can’t let you take her away...”

Haytham sighed heavily and nodded, he didn’t know what to do in this situation. But he wanted to do right by his son, for once.

“I can delay the wedding until it’s safe... I can’t however just cancel, to much relays on this, however if I can push it back I can work around it for you” Haytham said putting his hand on connors shoulder. Connor had never smiled brighter then that moment, he was so happy with his fathers words he even hugged him.

The moment was short lived at they heard people downstairs, so quickly Connor made his way out the window and away.

A few weeks after that Connor had come up with a plan, every Friday he would send (y/n) flowers. However when he started that her mother kept thinking they were for her, so plan changed. Every Friday he would sneak into her room and put flowers on her table, good thing that was today.

Today he’d gotten a large bundle of daisys and lavender for her, he noticed she’d had problems sleeping recently so he got the lavender to help her rest at night. Just as he was setting the vase down on her bed side table the door behind him creaked open and he quickly turned.

(Y/n) screamed and dropped the bowl in her hands before covering her mouth the moment she noticed who was in her room. “(Y/n)? Is everything alright up there?” Her mother called

“Yes mama, I just saw a rather large... moth...?” She said almost questioning her own words before her mother just went along with whatever she was doing before, and (y/n) looked back at Connor.

“ what on earth are you doing in my room?” She said freaked out as she closed her door and locked it, cleaning up the mess she made in the floor quickly.

“I - I uh- I was bringing you... flowers?” He scratched the back of his neck as he spoke, before helping her clean up the mess.

“You’ve been the one doing that?” She asked him softly, pushing hair behind her ear as she looked at him. A slight blush crept to her face as she put the bowl aside and stood with him.

“Um... yea- yes- I... I’ve been sending them for awhile but I think your mother has been taking them so I just started... delivering them?” He chuckled nervously and smiled at her. She was so small compared to him, he was a tall muscular man and she was this little graceful girl.

She giggled and nodded “yes fathers been wondering where the flowers come from” she chuckled and ran her fingers threw her hair. He smiled at her and sighed

“Well I’ve gotten you some daisies and lavender today...” he said walking back over to the window “and I-I should be off now”

“No-wait... you don’t have to leave” she grabbed his hand quickly. His heart fluttered feeling her skin against his, it made him feel this warmth he’d never felt before.

“You wish me to stay?” He moved his hand to the side of her face.

“Of course I wish you to stay... plus I know you’re not going far... you’re not a good hider...” she giggled and smiled

“Not a good hider- oh...” he blushed and looked down before getting his confidence back “I’ll have you know I’m an amazing hider”

“Then why have I noticed you threw my window the past few nights?” She smirked and crossed her arms

“Maybe I wanted to be noticed” he said trying to be tough to her.

“Well maybe I wanted you to come in rather then just stare, why do you think I opened my window?” She said raising her eyebrow. “I could barely sleep it was so cold”

“You could- you opened that for me...?” He blushed and smiled “I didn’t know I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, I should’ve said something” she smiled at him and put her hand on his face. He couldn’t hold it any long, he needed to say something for he exploded.

“You’re the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen” he whispered and kissed her palm, slowly kissing up her arm.

“Excuse me?” She blushed

“I said you’re the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen” he whispered in her ear and pulled away slowly.

“Oh I know what you said I just wanted to hear you say it again” she teased and cupped his face softly, he smirked a little and shook his head.

“You’re silly, little cub “ he smiled.

“You like how silly I am” she smiled at him and kissed the back of his hand “if you hadn’t you wouldn’t have watched me so long, my little eagle”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head “you’re a smart one” he pulled her closer slowly. “Can I be bold with you?” He whispered into her hair

“Yes sir” she rested her hands on his chest and leaned into him. She didn’t know how to explain it but she felt so comfortable in his arms, like he was a guardian of sorts, meant to protect her.

“I think I’m in love with you” he whispered and moved his finger under her chin, making her look up at him.

“You -you love me?” She smiled and blushed looking at him

“I do...” he said softly “and I would like to kiss you...” he admitted

“You need not ask, Connor...” she smiled and leaned up, pressing her lips to his softly. The kiss was sweet and deep, longing almost. It felt so right in every way that it made their hearts fly. She tugged his shirt softly pulling him closer before they finally parted and looked at each other

“I want to marry you...” he whispered

“Connor you know I cant-“

“I’ll do anything to make you mine, (y/n), anything... if that means killing that man then I will”

“Connor you sound mad” she said backing up a bit but he grabbed her hand.

“Forgive me, please I just... I don’t want to go another moment without you...” he whispered and looked into her eyes. She smiled and nodded softly

“I’d prefer if you didn’t kill him but... do what you must”

Tag list: @marshmallow--3 @thank-god-its-fryeday @sassenach-on-the-rocks @fangirl1071

#assassins creed #Connor kenway #Connor kenway fluff #ac #assassins creed gifs #connor kenway x reader #reblog!#Shay McCormick #haytham kenway

96 notes · View notes

procrastinatorimagines · 4 years ago

Text

May I Have This Dance?

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago / Chicago Med

Character/s: Halstead!Reader x Connor Rhodes, Jay, Will, Sylvie, Mouch, Stella, Kelly, Owen Manning

Warning/s: mentions of death

Word Count: 1,845

Request: Could you do an imagine where it’s the readers wedding and her dad isn’t there so her brothers (Jay and Will) take turns dancing with her? If you need a song I Learned From You by Miley Cyrus

Summary: It’s the readers wedding day and her parents aren’t there, but the Halstead’s always have each others backs.

This got away from me a bit sorry, but I just miss Connor okay?

He should have been here, they both should, but you’d been forced to make peace with the fact that your mother wasn’t going to be around for your wedding a long time ago, but with everything that had happened to your dad last year... You didn’t think you could do it without both of them. It was wedding day jitters. everyone said, your parents would have wanted you to be happy, but the thought of doing this without them was making you feel like a swarm of angry wasps had taken up residence in your stomach.

You’d decided to walk down the isle alone, your bridesmaids and the groomsmen behind. It hadn’t been the original plan, but who else could you ask to walk you down the isle but your dad? Your soon to be father-in-law had kindly offered, and while you appreciated it more than you could express, it didn’t feel right.

So there you stood, outside the doors to the hall, waiting for the music to start. You took a breath and fidgeted with your flowers, equal parts excited and nervous. Looking back your maid of honour, Sylvie Brett, gave you a reassuring smile; god you didn’t know what you would have done without her planning this wedding. You and your mom used to pretend to design your dream wedding when you were little, and Sylvie had sat by you while you’d sobbed over the scrapbook she had made for you, complete with cut out pictures of dresses, outrageously designed cakes and CD covers of music to play. You hadn’t thought you had anymore tears left after that, but they you’d found her wedding dress, and completely broke down.

Next you looked to your brothers, groomsmen, beaming with pride for you. Jay caught your eye and winked, and Will mouthed ‘you’ve got this’. They’d both cleaned up pretty well, and while both had tried to play the protective brother act they couldn’t have been happier, especially since your husband to be was a very good friend of both of theirs, Connor Rhodes.

You ran a hand slowly over the body of the dress, your mother’s dress, modified where needed to fit you perfectly, the sash around your bouquet belonging to one of your dad’s blue dress shirts. They’re still here with you, you thought as the music finally began to play, they’ll always be here with you. The doors opened and you went inside.

Your soon to be husband stood at the other end of the isle, looking at you like you’d walked right out of a dream, and suddenly all your nerves flew away. One foot in front of the other you headed towards the future, arm in arm with the ghosts from your past, carrying them with you into whatever came next.

“Wow...” Connor breathed as you got close enough to him, passing your bouquet to Sylvie as everyone took their places. You could have said the same thing to him, that tux was certainly doing him a lot of favours, not that he needed any really.

He took your hands and the ceremony began, Mouch taking up the honours of officiating with a lot of pride, and you admired the effort he put into trying not to shed a tear. The rings were presented by a very smartly dressed Owen Manning, who happily passed them to you both before running back to Natalie, beaming that he’d done it correctly. The ring fit perfectly as Connor slipped it on your finger, right where it was supposed to be.

You tried to take a page out of Mouch’s book as the vows began, your eyes blurring with tears as Connor began.

“Y/N Halstead... it’s been a long, difficult road to get here, for both of us, we were different people when we met, but we’ve grown together, lost together, and there’s no one I would rather have had by my side through it all. You’re my friend, my family, my home, my everything, you know me better than anyone and you still choose to be with me... Y/N you’re my future, wherever that may take us, you’re the only person I want next to me, always,” Connor told you, pausing for a second as you carefully dabbed the corner of your eye. His own looked a little damp too but you noticed the corner of his mouth turn up into a grin as he continued, “...or at least until you brothers dump my body somewhere no one will ever find.” You laughed, glancing at Will and Jay, who were nodding in agreement but smiling all the same.

You guessed that meant it was your turn. Taking a breath you began, trying to keep your voice steady as your emotions threatened to take control.

“Connor Rhodes, I love you, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight-” you began, earning a knowing chuckle from Connor and many of the other people in the room, “...or even an easy road to get here, but I love you, it’s a love that we’ve forged through all the highs and lows, all the joy and dispair, all the victories and tragedies of the last few years, it’s a love we’ve developed, a love we’ve fought to keep, and there’s no one else I’d rather be promising to spend forever with, because that’s how long I’ll love you for,” you finished, voice breaking a little on the last few words, but you took a breath and steadied yourself as Connor squeezed your hand.

“Right,” Mouch coughed, blinking furiously and dabbing his eyes.

“You alright man?” Connor grinned and Mouch nodded, “don’t need to take a minute?”

“Absolutely not, where were we... ah,” he cleared his throat and continued: “Do you, Connor Rhodes, take Y/N Halstead to be your wedded wife, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and in disappointment, to love her faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?”

“I do,” Connor said with conviction and confindence, looking directly into your eyes.

“And do you, Y/N Halstead, take Connor Rhodes to be your wedded husband, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and in disappointment, to love him faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?”

“I do,” you smiled, voice full of love and emotion as you realised you’d officially tied the knot with the man you loved.

“By the authority vested in me by the State of Illinois, and in the presence of all these fine folk, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Mouch said with pride, “now kiss her quick, before she changes her mind.”

With smiles on your faces Connor pulled you in for a kiss, your friends and family cheering behind you. “We’re married,” Connor said as you broke apart,

“Yes we are,” you pulled him in for another quick kiss, turning together hand in hand to face the rest of the room and heading down the isle again, not alone this time but hand in hand with your husband, as confetti was thrown in celebration. Everyone followed you both out into the front, all decorated with ribbons and flowers.

Sylvie offered you back the bouquet with a knowing wink. “Throw it!” Will cheered as the ladies took their places behind you to see who would catch it. You turned your backs to them, checking where one particular person was standing before you looked away, throwing it over your head a little to the right and into the arms of one Stella Kidd.

A couple of people looked disappointed but Sylvie and Emily cheered as Connor and Jay patted Kelly on the back. Stella looked at him and shrugged, but they were both smiling.

“You did that on purpose,” Will nudged you and whispered.

“Obviously,” you replied and he kissed you on the head.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, “mom and dad would be too if they could see you now,” he gave you a hug before taking a step back so Connor could join you again as everyone started taking their turns to congratuate you both.

The day had been perfect, but there was still one more hurdle, the father/daughter dance. You remembered being a little girl, standing on your father’s toes as he’d danced you around the living room, but he wasn’t here to do that now, so you’d had to scratch that off the plan, which had seriously stung.

Connor squeezed your hand, knowing what you were thinking as you headed out for your first dance together. He held you close on the dance floor as everyone stopped to watch. “I love you,” he whispered into your ear.

“I love you too,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You stayed like that as the music played, only breaking apart when the song changed. Confusion flashed across your face but Connor was simply smiling as you recognised it as the song you and your dad used to dance to.

“She’s all yours,” he said, and you turned to see your brothers approaching, your husband taking a step back as the song got underway.

I'm grateful for all of the times You opened my eyes I Learned From You that I do not crumble I learned that strength is something you choose

“What is this?” You asked them as Will held out a hand for you to take. Taking it he spun you around in time to the music.

“Well, since dad couldn’t be here, we figured we’d have to do instead,” your eldest brother said as a tear fell down your cheek.

“Mom and dad would be here if they could, but I guess you’re stuck with us instead,” Jay said from behind you as Will spun you into him, taking turns dancing with you as the song played.

All of the reasons to keep on believin' There's no question, that's a lesson I Learned From You You taught me to stand on my own

“They’re here,” you said softly and both your brothers nodded as you danced. You didn’t know what you’d do without them, they made you feel safe, loved, like you belonged, they were your family, and they were always going to be there for you, regardless of what other family you may have in the future, they weren’t going anywhere.

I learned that strength is something you choose something you choose All of the reasons to keep on believin' There's no question, that's a lesson that I Learned From You yeah! I Learned From You

As the song drew to a close you took both your brothers hands and squeezed them knowingly, the pain of your parents loss would never go away entirely, but none of you carried it alone. Connor stepped forward and your brothers reluctantly let you go as other couples began to come onto the dance floor with the next song.

“We love you sis,” Will said.

“Always,” Jay finished.

332 notes · View notes

pink-peony-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Fight for You

"Why do people do this to themselves?" I shouted to Shawn and Peter over the roar of the crowd as Raul's fist made contact with his apponents cheek- a sickening crack ringing out around the cramped room."It's barbaric!"

"It's actually quite ordered," Peter counted, eyes not leaving the action. "There's more that they can't do than they can."

"I still think it's stupid," I grumbled, before jumping and slapping my hands over my eyes as Raul copped a nasty hit to his chest.

The only reason I'd come to see the fight was to support Raul I'd been friends with the Triplets since we were about 5, having immediately hit it off with them on the first day of preschool. We'd been inseperable since, but I'd always had a soft spot for Raul,we just seemed to get each other- and he was always so protective of me.

In middle school he'd punched Jacob Connor's out (the resident bully) when he'd somehow found out I'd started my period and spread it around the school like wildfire. Raul had been given a 5 day suspension for it, but he'd always maintained that 'it was worth it, the little weasel got what he deserved.'

As we grew we only got closer,we were each other's confidant, the one person who we trusted with all our secrets, or biggest dreams and our deepest fears. That didn't stop us going through the awkward phase where you realise that maybe you like the other person, but are too much of a scaredy-cat to do anything about it.

Everyone could see it, my friends at school, Peter and Shawn, even my parents told me I should do something about it.

"Don't fret, Kara, your boy will be fine," Shawn laughed teasingly looking down at me bring me back to the present. The boys towered over me at 6'2 they were well over a head taller than me.

"How can you say that?He's your brother," I was appalled. They had absolutely no concern for the fact that their brother, their triplet no less was being pummelled like a car at a junk yard.

"Because," Shawn continued. "It might not look like it, but Raul has the upper hand, he's more agile on his feet, can move faster than the baffoon he's facing,"

I couldn't help but laugh at the description. Compared to Raul,the guy he was versing really did look like a monkey.

Despite the fact that ever fibre of my being wanted nothing more than to go up there and rescue him, I couldn't help but watch in awe as Raul served punch after stratigic punch to his apponents, before finally the referee called time and he was declared the winner.

"You know he does it for you," Peter spoke.

"Does what?" I asked confused.

"Fights, he fights for you, to impress you."

"Don't be stupid," I rolled my eyes, but I was stunned, was he really doing it for me? Why did he feel he needed to impress me?

"I'm going to the toilet," I called to Peter as people started slowly filing out the doors, satisfied with the gratuitous violence they'd witnessed, now no-doubt board.I needed some air,space to think.

As I made my way slowly towards the doors, being all but pushed,forced by the sheer numbers of people baring down on me I started to regret not asking one of the boys to accompany me.

This side of town wasn't exactly known as a safe haven and I wasn't even sure where I needed to go.

And Raul's words of warning 'never go anywhere this side of town without one of us,' rang through my head, as I made my way out into the alley behind the delapidated building and into the night air which was full of the smell of stale cigarette smoke.

"Hey there pretty," a group of guys yelled as I walked past, before wolf whistling. I shuddered and picked up my pace, reaching for my bag that was across my body to try and call one of the boys. I no longer felt safe, in fact I was starting to panic, my hands shaking as I dug blindly through my small purse trying to find my cell. In my haste and in attention, I failed to noticed a massive dip in the run down concrete and before I had a chance to correct it,my foot was falling in, my ankle twisting as I fell heavily to the ground. My hands stung as they made harsh contact with the gravel covered floor.

I sat there for a minute dazed, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why not when I was with the guys? I wondered, a few tears leaking from my eyes I scrubbed them away angrily trying to get up, but to no avail. It was useless. I knew I needed help, but I wasn't sure how to get it, there was no way I was going to ask the men down the street for help.

"Kara? Is that you," I looked up with a sigh of relief immediately recognising the voice and he tall figure. It was Raul, making his way out from behind the building,bag slung over his shoulder,still covered in a sheen of sweat, his muscle top sticking to his chest highlighting his toned physique.

"What happend, why aren't you with Shawn and Peter?" he asked jogging down the street and dumping his bag in the ground before bending down in front of me.

"I got lost," I sighed. I tried to move my ankle which was now throbbing,wincing as a sharp, white-hot pain shot through my foot.

"I'll kill those dimwits," he growled as he looked at me.

"Don't blame them, it was me. I went to find a toilet and I didn't ask one of them to come with me," I explained,my voice shaky from pain and fear.

"How could you be so stupid!" he yelled surprising me. He looked livid."How many times have I told you," he hissed shaking his head, reaching for my foot, but I yanked it away despite the instant ache of protest it gave off. If he was going to be a sick, I didn't want his help,I felt bad enough already.

"Why are you being such a fucking asshole?You know what, don't worry, I'll find my own way home," I spat,tears running down my cheeks unchecked as I glared at him. I struggled to get up, using the wall behind me as support, but eventually made it. As soon as I put weight on my foot though I collapsed. The firey ache that started instantly was now worse than ever.

"I'm sorry," he puffed out. "I'm just worried I'd hate for you to get hurt,I love you," he whispered the last part, by I heard it. It took everything in my power to stay calm,it wasn't like I didn't know it, but I'd never expected him to admit it.

"I am hurt," I replied cooly, pointing to my foot.

"More hurt," he amended his eyes going dark,the grim look on his face didn't make it hard to guess what he was thinking and I shuddered.

"I'm going to take the shoe off," he told me, working quicky but carefully to release my foot from the confines of the heel I'd been wearing.

I couldn't help the hiss that left my lips as it finally feel free.

"Sorry," he apologised softly, much calmer than before. "It's already swelling," he commented as he took the foot in his hand and carefully manipulated it.

"I don't think you've torn anything, but I'll wrap it to make sure," he nodded to himself, unzipping the bag he'd discarded beside me and pulling what looked like strapping tape out.

"How do you know so much?" I asked as he took my foot in his hands again, very carefully wrapping the fabric around it, before pulling it tight. I could feel it throbbing,but I said nothing, not wanting to complain. It did feel better than it had before, but I knew by the time I made it home it'd need to be iced.

"Honey you learn this stuff when you fight, you have to fiend for yourself," he responded,"There all done," he added as he admired his work.

"Give me your hand," he spoke.

"What?"

"Your hands, they're bleeding."

"Ohh," I held my hands out for him to take. He tipped some water onto them which stung like hell, and wrapped them, before placing a kiss on each of my knuckles, causing me to blush. It was lucky it was dark and dimly lit because I knew that itlf he'd noticed he would have teased the daylights out of me.

"Thank you," I took his hand that he was holding out and let him pull me up, leaning into him instinctively.

"No worries, wouldn't want an invalid walking around town now, it'd ruin the street cred," he winked, causing me to laugh. This was the side of Raul that I was used to, the cheeky, unapologetically flirty, protective Raul.

"Nah really, of course I'd look after you, you're my favourite girl," he kissed my forehead as we made our way to find the others at which point Raul promptly chewed out their ears about the dangers of leaving me alone and their completely mind-blowing stupidity which had them both looking extremely guilty.

It was quickly forgotten though as we went on to celebrate his victory, Raul never leaving my side,checking every so often that I was okay, even going so far as to find pain killers for me which helped a heap.

"Thank you," I told him again as we piled into a taxi- Peter already having gone home and Shawn still partying. Normally Raul was the party animal, but he'd insisted he go home with me to make sure I got there in one piece.

It wasn't like I was going to say no, I appreciated the sweet gesture.

"Don't sweat it. You're my girl," he answered, kissing me again, but this time on the lips momentarily stunning me.

"And you're my boy," I giggled,beaming.

"So how about we make this official?" he suggested, that cheeky grin that I loved so much present again.

"I thought you'd never ask," I responded, reaching up to kiss him again.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn

60 notes · View notes