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queer-and-dear-books · 1 year ago

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Title: Into The Light

Author: Mark Oshiro

Genre: Sci-fi? | Friendship | Romance | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: Homophobia | Conversion Therapy | Abuse | Sexual Assault | Grooming

Overall Rating: 8.6/10

Personal Opinion: As always with Mark Oshiro, you can expect grim reality mixing with the most powerful kindness you’ve ever read about. This time, we venture into the world of a corrupt foster care system and grooming by religious zealots. It’s scary but absolutely worth reading about. Manny has been through hell. He lost his sister, he was abandoned, he’s been preyed on, but still he found some light in the form of a kind family, the Varelas. This journey that he takes us on is emotional and raw and it deserves to be brought into the light.

Do I Own This Book? Nope.

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- If nothing else, I found this very entertaining. The twist that Manny and Eli were once one and the same was pretty obvious but it was set up so well. Eli’s chapters were few and far in between at the start. He said he resembles Elena in his first chapter. And the big clue was when Carlos saw Eli in one of Deacon’s videos and thought it was Manny and yet Manny could not remember being in it. It’s wild. It’s crazy. Am I not entertained? I am. I thought it was some sort of repression or amnesia though, I was not anticipating Manny to have somehow split into two. That is so disturbing. I am so perturbed. It’s great.

- The kindness of the Varelas made me emotional at times. I mean, they were already living out of a van, driving around to find kids that were ejected from their church and providing all of them with means of living and I love that. But then they went out of their way to protect Manny, a stranger, from Stan, an old pervert. And then they proceeded to continue helping him for a whole month. I just love Monica and Ricardo so damn much. They protected Carlos too and I have so much respect for them. Even if they made their mistakes, they’re out here atoning in the best way possible.

- Manny’s reluctance to trust even the Varelas was totally reasonable. After everything he went through and after what he did to them (stealing their money and their son’s iPad), I get why he felt like he couldn’t stay with them. I’m glad that he changed and realized his sister was right about one thing. He does choose to be miserable. Not anymore. The ending, where he chose to be happy and chose Carlos’s family was just so sweet.

- Oh also, the other twist with Rakeem showing up in the end. Oh my god, for a second, I thought Rakeem was the dead body. I truly thought Eli was alive. It was written so well to make you think it was Rakeem because at this point, we had no idea Eli “came out” of Manny. We didn't know that supernatural shit was going on! So that twist was a gut punch and a great one.

- Manny having a crush on both Carlos and Ricardo is so hilarious and also so me-coded. I too would have a crush on my love interest and his dad. But the budding romance between Manny and Carlos was so sweet. I could feel the way they cared about each other in those little touches and night time conversations. And the way they could both relate to that feeling of abandonment but wanting to be close to each other anyway is so good. I love when touch-starved individuals find each other.

- It’s implied that Elena burns Reconciliation down to the ground and honestly? Good. I hope it never rises from the ashes again. I also hope that Deacon and the Sullivans had burned with it. God, they were so fucking creepy.

Dislikes:

- I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about the supernatural aspect of this story. I mean, it’s cool and unexpected, don’t get me wrong, but it also felt wildly out of place. It reads like a CreepyPasta. And it’s also sort of glossed over? No one really questions it. I mean, the proof is right there I guess but like still, it’s a wild supernatural occurrence in a non-supernatural setting.

- Fuck Deacon and Lester and Stan and anyone else who preys on the most vulnerable. Children. It was disgusting to read about but unfortunately very real.

- I’m also so disturbed by Diana and Elena. Diana for basically being a bystander and giving kids away to Deacon’s families with no proper background checks. And Elena for falling for all of Deacon’s bullshit so easily. Yes, she is a victim in this too, but my god, the way she did everything the Thompsons asked of her without question was just bad.

- These are all necessary evils for the story to take place so I can give them all a pass.

- I’m going to be honest (again), I expected so much worse from the conversion camp. Not that it wasn’t awful. Mrs. Thompson backhanding Rakeem in the face and Deacon reading their darkest secrets out loud was fucked up. But I think I was expecting things closer to torture because of the way Manny dodged so many of the Varelas’ questions and the way Carlos said, “They never should’ve done that to you. They never should’ve done that to me either.” I don’t know, I was just holding my breath for something horrendous and then when we saw what happened, it just… wasn’t so bad to me? Or wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Again, it is very bad. I was just bracing myself for the worst.

- Oh god, is Simone okay? I just realized she’s still with the man that raped her and forced her to get an abortion. Somebody save her because oh my god, I legit gagged at that. Well… at least Maddie and a few others are okay.

#Booksbooksbooks #Booklr #Book Blog #Book Rec #Book Review #Into The Light #Mark Oshiro #LGBTQ #Queer Representation

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attllhak · 3 years ago

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Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

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

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

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petite-ely · 4 years ago

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Afraid // JJ Maybank

one - the five secrets of JJ maybank

Pairing : JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: language, mention of abuse and starvation, fear of storms and ocean, fear of losing sibling, mention underage drinking, very slight mention of sex

Description: first real chapter (yay!!!) JJ Maybank has secrets, just like anybody else, but his are very hard to keep. Especially when it concerns the girl he’s head over heels in love with.

Previously Next

Afraid masterlist

A/n: here it is!!! So sorry for the wait, I had things going on in my life and I had a huge block for a while. Anyways hope you enjoy!!!!

Song recommendation :

Gif found on internet all credits to rightful owner

JJ Maybank was like an open book. When he was surrounded by his friends, he would not hesitate to tell them what was on his mind. He spoke honestly about how he felt and always openly stated his opinions. It could be brutal sometimes or really strange, but no one really cared. That was just how JJ was.

Sometimes he would slip small secrets in conversations without realizing it, especially if he was drunk or high (which frankly happened often). But JJ was really good at keeping bigger secrets, his more than anyone else’s. He had collected over the years a total of five secrets that he had (and would) never reveal to anybody. Even his friends. Here’s what they are.

#1 He had his first real kiss at 14

He always told everyone that he had his first kiss at 11, with a ‘hot touron’ (his own words). He had lied to impress his friends - and others too - and it worked. His real first kiss had actually happened in a game of truth of dare, three years after the rumour was spread. He had wanted to tell the truth for a while, but he was ashamed of the story he had made up.

#2 His Dad was an asshole and often used his son as his own punching bag.

This one was the only exception. (Every rules have some exceptions anyways) JJ never wanted for his friends to find out about his abusive father, but they all eventually knew. The first to find out was John B. The two of them hung out almost every day. One time, John B simply asked where the bruises that decorated JJ’s body came from and the blond spilled everything. He was too tired of hiding this secret to himself. It was a huge burden for a boy like him. Not long after, he told his other friends. He didn’t want to hide it from them anymore. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do, but once it was all out, he was relieved they knew.

#3 He had once gone almost a week without eating.

It happened when he was younger, not long after his mother left. His dad had been so angry that he purposely deprived his son of any food. As a kid it was hard for him to find any food by himself and he was ashamed of asking for help. He couldn’t tell anyone. After five days, y/n had noticed that JJ didn’t have any food at lunch and she told her father. Big John, having known Luke when he was younger, had decided to take the boy under his wings. He invited him to eat at the château whenever he could and overpacked John B and Y/n’s lunch so that they would share with him. He was sort of a second dad for JJ.

#4 He had a mild fear of storms.

As a kid, he always compared them to his dad. The quick and bright lightning bolts represented his short temper and the loud thunder claps represented his anger and all the violence he could create. So JJ always made sure to be surrounded by his friends during storms. It brought him reassurance and peace.

#5 He was completely in love with y/n Routledge and she had no idea.

He had know for a long time now, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Instead he drowned his sorrow with alcohol and one nighters with tourons. She was his best friend’s sister and a fellow pogue. The rule was clear, no pogue on pogue macking. Besides she deserved way better than anything he could offer. She could never love him, there was no chance she’d ever feel the same. Right?

>>>

The wind was blowing harshly at this point, whistling as it travelled between the thick branches of the trees. Y/n felt a small shiver slide beneath her shirt and dance along the line of her spine. She tightened the blanket wrapped around her body, readjusting the grip on the book she was reading.

Well, reading wasn’t really the word to use. It was more like staring. She had brought her favourite book outside with her as a way to distract herself, but it didn’t quite work. You see y/n had a twin brother and as much as she loved John B, sometimes he could be really stupid. Like when he decided to go surfing right when a hurricane was hitting the island.

Y/n was absolutely terrified of anything involving the ocean, so at the moment she was practically shaking with fear. She tried to breathe as slowly as she possibly could. She hated being outside during a big storm like this, but she also hated the thought of her brother drowning in the wild waves. So she sat down on the old couch on the front porch of the château, with a warm blanket and a book, waiting until John B came back, hopefully in one piece.

She had always been an anxious person. As a child she would often worry about small things like speaking in public, different events coming up and a bunch of other stuff. She had been diagnosed with anxiety at 10 years old, after having a panic attack in the school hallway. She never received any treatment for it though. Doctors thought she was too young for medication and well therapy was expensive.

Nonetheless, she found ways to cope with it. Tips and tricks that helped her manage it. With time her levels of stress and anxiety lowered and the attacks were rarer. It hadn’t completely disappeared of course, but it was better.

After her father disappeared, it became much worse. It was like she suddenly had a hundred more things to worry about. She and John B had to find enough money to pay for electricity, water and also food. Plus she had to deal with DCS who threatened to send them to foster care. It was unbearable.

“Hey there,” a familiar voice spoke.

“JJ?” Y/n squinted trying to see the boy standing in the dark. “What are you doing, it’s raining you’re gonna get sick.”

He was drenched, completely soaked with water. She didn’t know how long he had been walking in the storm. The rain was falling down so heavily it could soak you to the bone under five minutes. She stuck her hand inside the open window of the living room and reached for a towel. Since they lived near a beach, there was always some lying around on the floor or onto the couch.

“Here,” she handed him a large fluffy towel. “ I can’t guarantee it’s clean, but at least it’ll keep you dry.”

“Thanks.” Y/n let her book fall on the porch.

“Are you okay? You seem, tense.” Her voice was tinted with worry. JJ was one of her closest and oldest friend, she knew perfectly how to read his emotions.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, I guess,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“JJ you- ” She was about to finish her sentence when the thunder clapped loudly above their head, making the girl flinch at the same time.

JJ was just as scared as she was - maybe a bit less or more he couldn’t really tell - but he didn’t show it. Knowing that she was sitting beside him completely terrified made him feel braver in a way. She seemed so small and vulnerable, he didn’t want her to feel unsafe. He knew that admitting his own fear would only make hers worse. So he hid it in a small box at the back of his mind, hoping he’d eventually forget about it.

“You know, John B might be an asshole sometimes,” he paused, ruffling his wet hair with the towel, “but he’s not dumb. He knows when to stop, when it gets too dangerous. Besides Pope’s with him, he couldn’t be in safer hands.”

“Thank you J. That, um, that made me feel better.”

Her hand was resting on his shoulder. Her touch was warm against his bare skin, sending small ripples of goosebumps throughout his body. A soft smile was drawn onto her lips, her cheeks slightly flushed by a sunburn and her eyes glinting in the darkness of the night. She was so beautiful, it was almost painful. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Do you mind staying with me?” asked y/n with a small voice. “At least until John B comes back.”

“Sure.” A smile stretched itself onto his lips. “Wasn’t planning on going home anyway.”

“So,” he got up from the couch, removing his dirty shoes, “wanna go in and watch a movie before the power goes out?”

“Can we watch Peter Pan?”

“Peter Pan it is.”

And as JJ disappeared into the warmth and comfort of the château, y/n’s smile grew even bigger. She was so deeply in love with him, how could he not see it.

Taglist

@drewswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 4 years ago

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Boku no Hero Academia - Safe In My Arms

I apparently only wrote two drabbles for my Patreon in 2020, but given the state of the world at the time, I hope I’m forgiven for that. A new year is here, however, and that means last year’s writing can now be seen by all of you! If you want to see more stories like this before next year, then consider pledging to my Patreon!

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Characters: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shinsou Hitoshi

Rating: Teen Audiences

Summary: Present Mic runs one of the biggest radio shows in Japan and it's common knowledge that his phone is firmly turned off during broadcasts -- except for the numbers he allows through. When one of those numbers calling is a familiar student, Hizashi knows that his night is about to get a lot more serious.

Word Count: 2,239

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Check out my writing commission information here! Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content! Or buy me a coffee on Ko-Fi!

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“Goood evening my dear listeners! Welcome to another show of Put Your Hands Up Radio! here with your wild and favorite pro hero Present Mic as your host! Tonight, for those of you who remember our last show, we’re talking all about Quirks! Rare quirks, weird quirks, creepy quirks, villain quirks, hero quirks and everything in between!

“So grab those phones, get our number ready to go, and call in with questions, stories, and your wildest quirk-related memories. And remember, we here at Put Your Hands Up Radio! are not responsible for any slapping, hitting, punching, kicking, and-or screaming that happens if you rat someone out on live air. Choose your victims wisely, dear listeners, and remember that this show broadcasts to all of Japan.

“First, though, we’re gonna start things off like we always do by rocking and rolling! Keep those hands of yours up and those cheers wild as we start the night off right! Here’s Telecaster Stripes by POLKADOT STINGRAY!”

Yamada Hizashi, better known as the Voice Hero Present Mic, couldn’t stop his grin as he flicked the right switches in order, killing his mic and switching on the first song of the night all without even a second of dead air. The music filled his headphones and studio in a heartbeat, Hizashi feeling something in him relax as he was right where he belonged — well. As he was in one of the places where he belonged.

Looking back to where his sound engineer was keeping everything in order in the booth, Hizashi grinned and slipped his headphones off, rolling his chair over to tap on the glass. The unamused look he was given was wonderful, truly, “C’mon, Suki-chan, it’s another beautiful night and we get to stay up through all of it and make as much noise as we want!”

Takada Suki, his first radio intern turned sound engineer turned unofficial manager of the station flicked the switch that would allow him to hear her. “Aizawa-san said to take your medicine after your introduction.” Before Hizashi could lie and say he forgot it, Suki was holding up a familiar, hated bottle. “He dropped it off when he, unfortunately, dropped you off.”

“Hmph,” Hizashi grumbled, rolling over to open the door that led into her side of the booth and catching the bottle of pills and water she then threw at him. “Remember when you were still starstruck and feared me? Can’t we go back to that?”

“I wasn’t starstruck, I was horrified that my boss was someone who was barely out of school. I was also afraid we’d go under and I wouldn’t get my credits for class.” Suki was smiling anyways, Hizashi snorting as he took his stupid medicine and then rolled back into his side of the booth, song starting to come to an end.

Ready to put himself back on air, Hizashi froze as he felt his phone buzzing inside his pocket and that… wasn’t good. Hizashi always muted his phone during his shows and only a few calls could even get through — and those that could call would know better than to call during a live show unless…

Hizashi raised his hand, looking at Suki and waiting until her attention snapped towards him, “Possible emergency. Take over and play the first set list and say we’re sorting through the stories sent by email to start with.”

“Yessir!” Jerking off the headphones he had only just put on, Hizashi stood up and dragged out his phone and felt his heart stutter at seeing the caller ID of Shinsou Hitoshi. “Welcome back to Put Your Hands Up! radio and, yes, you might have noticed I’m not your wild and carefree Present Mic, but that’s okay because we’re gonna keep the party going until he gets back! Come on, listeners, I wanna be able to hear your rocking all the way from here! We’re kicking things off with-”

Hizashi didn’t waste a heartbeat in answering, immediately heading for the door to get some silence, knowing the show was in good hands with Suki. “‘Toshi? Hey, what’s up, kiddo? Is something wrong?”

Shinsou Hitoshi had been training with Shouta for almost half a year to get into the hero course and to say the two were stupidly fond of the kid would be putting it lightly. The fact that they were starting to talk to his caseworker about possibly being put into a different foster home, well, Hitoshi didn’t need to know that part quite yet. It was a surprise, after all.

The problem was that Hitoshi never called. He texted, sent videos, sent photos of stray cats, and used emojis more than Hizashi ever did, but he didn’t call. The fact he was calling now during the middle of his show? It couldn’t be anything good. The problem, though, was that Hitoshi wasn’t saying anything. All Hizashi could hear was soft breathing over the line before he had a short heart attack at having his phone buzz against his ear.

“Hitoshi? Kiddo? Hey, are you there? Is everything alright?” Hizashi prayed to everything out there that it was just an accidental dial of his phone. “‘Toshi?” It took two more buzzes before Hizashi grit his teeth and checked his phone, ready to be annoyed but instead frowning at seeing incoming text messages from Hitoshi.

Pulling them up, Hizashi frowned at the messages, a mess of typos that spoke of shaking hands and the message that Hitoshi was outside of the station in the right alleyway and he… didn’t know where else to go…

Feeling his heart stutter to a stop for an eternity, Hizashi was running before he could even think the action through, bursting through the front doors of the radio station and ignoring anyone who tried to get him to slow down. It felt like too long before he was skidding around the corner to see Hitoshi curled up on the ground with his head tucked between his legs. The kid was holding on limply to his phone and Hitoshi could see tremors running through his shoulders.

“‘Toshi? Hey, kiddo, it’s me, Hizashi.” Approaching slowly and careful to make noise so Hitoshi would know exactly where he was coming from, Hizashi knelt in front of him. A quick glance showed that there, thankfully, didn’t seem to be any broken bones. His clothing was crumpled and torn in some places, but nothing that screamed of an outright villain attack. There weren’t any blood trails either, so that at least meant he hadn’t suffered any blood loss.

Hanging up his phone and shoving it away, Hizashi carefully and slowly rested a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder, not surprised when he felt the teen tense up even more. It hadn’t taken a genius to see the kid’s past screamed of abuse. Leaving his hand there, Hizashi frowned as Hitoshi didn’t relax. If anything, he seemed to get even more tense, which was…

They knew Hitoshi didn’t live in a good home. It was one of the reasons they were talking to his caseworker because Hizashi knew, and he was certain Shouta did too, that it had been a long time since the two had seen Hitoshi as just another student. Hizashi wasn’t surprised that, due to all of that, he felt ready to scream at something with how his nerves felt like they were being shredded.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was his years and years of experience and battle instincts screaming at him that something was wrong. Hizashi had long ago learned to not doubt his instincts.

“‘Toshi, you have to tell me what’s wrong,” Hizashi said quietly — quietly, but firmly. Whatever was going on was more than just a bad fight with his family or some neighborhood kids being pieces of shit. If it was the former, Hitoshi would have called Shouta after finding a safe place to hide away. Running all the way to the radio station and then calling Hizashi on air, however? That was a desperate scream for help. “You can sign it out, if you need to, but I need to know-”

Few things in life made Hizashi speechless. As a talkative child, a hero who was known for his voice, and a man with a radio show, there was hardly a time, if ever, that Hizashi found himself rendered speechless.

Seeing a child he was beginning to see as his own with a rusted muzzle locked around his face, well… That did it.

Hizashi was, once again, barely aware he was even moving before he found himself pulling Hitoshi close to him, fumbling with the straps of the fucking muzzle with his phone dialing and on speaker beside him. Hizashi had already cut open at least two of his fingers by the rusted fucking metal by the time the call connected, Hizashi hearing the familiar voice of Shouta’s Hero Agency secretary, “Hello, this is-”

“This is Yamada Hizashi, known as Voice Hero Present Mic calling in for an emergency. Please contact Eraserhead and have him call me as quickly as possible.”

The secretary, a former student of theirs who knew them both rather well, didn’t say a word before the call was ending, Hizashi swearing as he finally managed to break the straps, sliding the muzzle off of Hitoshi’s face before throwing it against the brick wall with as much force as he could throw into it. He made a mental note to go back and find it later so he could turn it into scrap metal.

“Why.” The word was quiet. It was quiet, but it was harder and sharper than Shouta’s scarf could ever be. It wasn’t a question, though, and that knowledge alone had Hizashi wanting to just scream. “Why do you even care.”

They were bitter words. The words were soaked in years of pain and torment and Hizashi caught the barest glimpse of his kid’s face. Razor thin cuts lined his jaw and cheeks, blood welling up along all of them. Tears mixed in with the blood and it had to be so painful, but the look on Hitoshi’s face could only be called wrathful. Hizashi didn’t blame him.

Sitting back for a moment, Hizashi stared at Hitoshi, a terrified kid who met his gaze without even flinching. There were a million things he could have said, but Hizashi knew that not a single word would get through. Hitoshi was as stubborn as Shouta, after all, but, that was good. That meant that while words might not work, actions would.

Slowly, so slowly, Hizashi took Hitoshi’s hand. When the teen didn’t jerk away or try to fight or yell at him, Hizashi lifted the hand to his own cheek. He could see Hitoshi’s confusion and wariness, but Hizashi merely shifted the hand until fingertips brushed against old, faint scars that were a reflection of the ones in front of him.

Hizashi could see the moment it hit, Hitoshi’s eyes growing wide as he pressed against the faded muzzle scars on Hizashi’s own face. It felt like an impossible task, but Hizashi finally managed a small, genuine smile.

“This may not explain why I care, but it might help to start explaining it,” Hizashi said softly, watching as Hitoshi’s shoulders shook. This time, it wasn’t in fear. “The muzzle… it was from your foster house, wasn’t it?” Because those people were not his family and Hizashi would never let Hitoshi call that place a home.

Hitoshi, instead of verbally answering, only stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. He wasn’t denying it, and Hizashi knew well enough what that meant. “Oh, Hitoshi…” For a moment, Hizashi couldn’t help but let some of his own bitterness sneak in, “Voice quirks can be seen as pretty dangerous, huh?”

It wasn’t even a second before Hitoshi was in his lap and hanging onto him tightly, Hizashi returning the grip and tucking Hitoshi close. He had always planned on telling Hitoshi about his own childhood one day, but god if this wasn’t the worst way to do it. As far as he was concerned whoever wanted this kid would have to pry him out of his cold, dead hands.

The sound of a familiar ringtone had Hizashi snatching his phone and answering without even looking at the ID, shoving the phone between his ear and shoulder as he tucked his kid closer, rubbing at Hitoshi’s back. “Hizashi? What’s wrong?”

“Call Hitoshi’s caseworker as soon as your patrol ends,” Hizashi said quietly, giving a soft, peaceful hum of a tune as he felt Hitoshi’s breath start to hitch. “I have a feeling our request is going to be approved as soon as you do.”

And he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. He would have to tell Shouta exactly what had happened, he needed to find out exactly what had happened from Hitoshi, and he needed to get Hitoshi home where it would be nice and quiet and safe. There was definitely going to be all kinds of paperwork, and he would have to explain his absence from that night’s show, but…

None of it seemed to really matter when he heard Hitoshi, breathing uneven and hands shaking, manage a whisper-soft, “Thank you.”

“Always,” Hizashi responded, closing his eyes for a moment. There would be work to do, but for now his son was safe in his arms.

Hizashi was going to make sure that never change.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #erasermic #present mic #shinsou hitoshi #implied/referenced child abuse #my writing #my patreon #original

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thegreatestofheck · 5 years ago

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Ocean and Alcohol Pt. 6 ✘JJ Maybank✘

Part One! Part Two! Part Three! Part Four! Part Five!

(gif not mine. all credit to rudypankows!)

Word Count - 4716 Warnings - Abandonment, verbal abuse, brief mention of sexual abuse, Synopsis - Hurricane Agatha hit and she hit hard. An old friend stops by with bad news and brings along some repressed memories. JJ shows up at your window just before a breakdown and invites you to a kegger at the boneyard with some very harsh news. A/N - I thought I should start making these a little bit shorter just for readability, so here we go, another short one! As with the last one, there are some pretty heavy themes here especially around the ideas of abandonment, so if those things are going to be triggering, please be cautious! I love you all and your health is the most important thing to me! I also, I decided the ending while writing this, and let’s just say, I’m very very excited. Thank you for your love and support and thank you for 100 followers!

“A storm’s coming,” Kid said, looking out your window. You looked up at him from your book He was looking dramatic, head resting against the wall, hands laced together in front of him. You knew he was planning a music video out in his head and you tried not to laugh. “It’s more than a storm, Kid,” you said with a sigh, turning the page despite not reading a single word on it. “It’s hurricane Agatha.” “Are we going to be okay?” He asked, eyes shifting away from the window and toward you. You nodded, eyebrows pinched together. “Of course we are, Kid,” you said. By his downcast eyes, you knew that he didn’t really believe you. You set your book down and patted the bed beside you. “Come here.” Kid scurried across the room and jumped up beside you onto the bed. A dull ache pulsed through you, the bruise on your side not yet fully healed. You put an arm around Kid. “We are going to be fine,” you said as firm as you could manage. “This house is well built, sturdy. In the morning, things might look a little haggard, but inside the house we will be perfectly safe.” As you said the words, you thought of all the houses you saw in the cut that were nothing more than shacks. Your heart tightened in your chest thinking about what might happen to them all. Maybe you could convince your dad to let you help in repairs once the storm was over. But you couldn’t think about that now. All that mattered was Kid and making sure that he was safe. Nothing else was more important. You had been mulling over how to get rich fast without your dad getting suspicious for nearly a week since you were thrown down the stairs. Any practical ideas had yet to pop into your head. Not that it mattered much. You were barely seventeen, almost a whole year until you could even vie for full custody of Kid. Still, your nerves ran wild with bad ideas. Become an escort. They get rich fast. But that would involve sex or at least something close to it and if you could barely let JJ touch you, how were you going to let a wrinkly old man that smelled like cigars even breathe anywhere near you? Join a strip club. Just dance, no touching. But there was no guarantee that would get you enough money. Get another job. You were already exhausted as it was, but getting another job was the only thing that made any logical sense to you. That meant less time with JJ and the Pogues, less time with Kid. What would you be sacrificing by getting a second job? Any chance at a real relationship with JJ, sure. But you would also be distancing yourself from the only family you had ever known. Was it worth it? Leaving Kid at the house even longer just so you could make more money? A few more fantastical ideas passed through your dreams; join a mob, become a high class thief, murder your dad in the middle of the night and inherit his money, marry fast and marry rich. You were ten times more inclined to kill your dad than marry any of the rich pricks that lived on Kildare Island, but still, murder was risky and you couldn’t chance getting put away and leaving Kid on his own. Even as you sat beside Kid now, all you could think about was getting him away from your dad. When rain started to pitter against your window, your heart lept at of your chest. Your dad wasn’t home yet and if the hurricane hit now…. Death by hurricane. That was a natural cause and it would still mean you could inherit the money. But you were too young. They would still put you both into foster care. When you first heard the knock at the window, you thought it was just the rain getting harder, but when it came again, your eyebrows pinched together. “JJ?” You stood from the bed, Kid curling his legs up to his chest. To your surprise, and abhorrence, JJ was sitting outside wearing his shorts, muscle t, and backward hat, as if a hurricane wasn’t less than an hour from reaching you. You threw the window open and dragged him inside. He was already soaked to the bone.

“What the hell are you doing?” You ran back to your bed to grab a few blankets. “I wanted to talk to you, but the phones are down,” he said, smiling despite the trembling in his body. “Phones are down already?” You threw the blankets around his shoulders, rubbing your hands up and down his arms in hopes of warming him up. “They shut ‘em off I think,” he said, walking in a small circle before sitting on the floor. “JJ, you have to get home. You’ll freeze to death out there.” “Kie drove me.” “Kiara’s out there?” You ran to the window. To your amazement, Kie’s car was in fact parked outside your window. You could barely see her through the rain, but you waved anyway. “Listen,” JJ said, standing. “We’re all going out on the Pogue tomorrow once Agatha moves on. You’re coming.”

“I can’t.” “Come on! There will be loads of fish and-” “JJ, I really can’t. Not when-” You glanced over at Kid, who was trying not to watch the two of you interact. “My dad will be staying home tomorrow and he’ll expect us to help him clean up whatever damage the storm does. There’s no way I’ll be able to sneak out unnoticed.” “I haven’t seen you in forever,” he said, putting a hand against your neck. “For a good reason.” He scowled his smile fading as he dropped his hand back against his side. “No, not….I just mean that I can’t be doing anything risky right now. Please, tell me you understand.” “Yeah, no, I understand.” He started to back toward the window. You ran a hand over your face, squeezing your eyes shut. “JJ-” “No, Ellie, I understand.” JJ pulled the blankets off of his shoulders and lay them over the back of a chair. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” “Yeah.” JJ pulled the window open and crawled back out into the pouring rain. You stood in the middle of your room, face in your hands. “Are you not going because of me?” Kid asked. You looked up at him and shook your head. You walked over to Kid, feet shuffling on the floor. You knelt to the ground at his feet and took his hands in yours. “I’m not going because there is no way I can get away tomorrow. That’s all,” you said. “Okay?” “But I can cover you!” Kid said. “I can help-” “No, Kid!” You squeezed his hands, giving yourself a second to calm down. “Kid, you never have to cover for me, okay? If Dad ever asks where I am and you tell him.” “But we always come up with a plan.” “No more plans, Kid. If I am gone, you tell dad that I’m out with JJ, alright? You tell him that,” you said. “I don’t understand. Why?” “Because-” Because then he’ll want to kill me and not you. “Because it would be better for both of us. You never have to cover for me, Kid. My actions are my own. That means the consequences are mine, too.” Kid nodded his head slowly. It was clear to him that he still didn’t understand completely what you were saying, but that was good. You didn’t want him to. A crack of thunder startled both of you. Half a millisecond later, you saw the flash of lightning. You crawled back into your bed, holding Kid close to you. The wind beat against your house, rain pelting it from all sides. With every new thunderclap, you could feel Kid flinch beneath you. You squeezed your eyes tight, running your fingers through Kid’s hair in hopes to get him to fall asleep. The light above you flickered, sparked, and went out with a pop. Kid gasped, burying his face between your neck and the pillow. “Shh,” you whispered, rubbing his back as you looked at the lightbulb above. “You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

There was no power when you woke up. Checking your phone, there was no service. It wasn’t as if you expected there to be, but still, you had hoped. Kid was still asleep a few inches away from you. You had no idea what time it was, but from the position of the sun it couldn’t have been much later seven. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning, and stretching your stiff muscles. You opened your door, peering out into the empty house. “Dad?” You called. You remembered that he hadn’t been home when you fell asleep. He could have very well died out there- “Down here!” Your heart plummeted. You peered over the railing down to the foyer. Your dad was surrounded by a sea of candles, none of them lit. “You wanna help me put these around?” You started down the stairs, the chill of the wood shocking your bare feet. As you rounded the bottom of the stairs, you saw that your dad was smiling. “Don’t you think this is overkill on the candles?” You asked. “The generators will be on soon and we won’t need them.” Your dad picked up one of the candles, admiring it for all its generic whiteness. “What else would we do with them?” “There are going to be people all over without power, especially in the cut. I think if I could just take some over-” Your dad stood suddenly and you took a few steps back, flinching. “I don’t want you on the south side of this island ever, Elma, do you understand me?” “Dad, there are people over that need help-” “No! All those people are lazy, useless people who do nothing but drag this island into the mud. They don’t deserve anything from us.” Your eyes began to swim with tears, chest heaving. “How can you say that?” You asked, breathless. “Mom always took care of those people when they needed help.” “Don’t bring up your mother right now.” “She would never have let those people go without light or food.” If you pushed hard enough you might just get him to listen to you. “You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?” Your dad sighed, looking down at the candles. “You’re right,” he said finally. He stepped over them and pulled you into an embrace. “I love that you’re always thinking of other people, Elma. Your mother would be so proud.” Your nose burned, lips trembling. It was hard to say that you missed the woman who abandoned you and Kid with the man that hurt you, but missing your mother felt like a different matter. In your mind, you could sometimes separate them. The woman who gave food the poor for no charge and stepped in between you and your father many times was not the same woman who forced you to get rid of your child and then left alone. When your dad finally let you go, he pressed his lips to your head. You tried to pretend it was a gentle and loving motion, but it didn’t stop your heart from pounding uncomfortably in your chest. “I’ll pack these into the car and take them to the cut. Get your brother up, will you? Start working on cleaning up outside.” “Sure, Dad,” you said, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

After helping your dad pack the candles into his car, you spent the next hour attempting to make Kid breakfast before he woke up. There were a few pancakes that you could salvage to take up to him. He was still asleep when you walked upstairs, the stack of pancakes in your hand. Instead of waking him, you left the pancakes on your desk and went back downstairs.

Stepping outside, you heaved out a heavy sigh. Agatha had really done her damage.

“Hell hath no fury,” you mumbled to yourself as you bent down to pick up some trash. After another hour, consisting of you picking through the damage and trying to figure out was salvageable, Kid came outside, fully dressed and ready for the day. “What can I do?” He asked, scanning the yard. “Just start by picking up trash, if you could. I think that’s the best place to start,” you said. “Okay.” Kid ran over to you, pulling on your arm, and kissed your cheek. “Thanks for the pancakes.”

You beamed.

“No problem, Kid.” He scampered off to get a trash bag. Shaking your head, you turned back to your work. By the time your dad returned, most of the smaller trash had been picked up and larger things that were no longer usable were in another pile. “Hey, Elma!” Your dad said as he climbed out of his car. “Yeah?” You stood up, wiping sweat from your forehead. “I just spoke to Ward Cameron. Do you remember Ms. Lana and Scooter?” Your dad asked, walking over to you with his hands on his hips. You nodded your head, pulling off your work gloves. “Course.” “Well, Scooter hasn’t been seen since yesterday.” “Scooter’s missing?” “Not missing,” your dad said, putting his hands up. “Just...they don’t know where he is. Ms. Lana is going to come over in a bit. I want you to have some food ready for her, make her comfortable, alright? Scooter was a good friend of mine, Elma, don’t mess this up.” No pressure. You walked back into the house and quickly changed out of your sweaty clothes into something cleaner. Heading back downstairs, you wondered what you could make that wouldn’t require cooking anything. Salad and sandwiches made the most sense to you. You could bring some out for Dad and Kid but also keep some inside for you and Ms. Lana. You also put on a pot of water for tea. You pulled the honey out of the cupboard and turned it over in your hands. You had never actually been allergic to honey. It was one of your favorite things, especially in tea. But when you came home after a heavy make-out session at a party that was supposed to be just a small slumber party with red and swollen lips, you had to make something up. Your mom had been mildly allergic to tea, and when she had it in her honey, it made her lips swell in a similar way. Ever since, you had to keep up the lie. Still, you drank honey in your tea when you could sneak it around your dad. You finished the sandwiches and brought two out for your brother and your dad, which they both took gratefully. Just before you went back inside, you saw Ms. Lana pull up in her car. You jogged over to her car as it rolled to a stop. She got out with a weak smile. “Ms. Lana.” “Hello, El, darling.” You pulled Ms. Lana into a hug. “Would you like to come inside? I just finished making lunch and some tea,” you offered. Ms. Lana gave you a watery smile and nodded her head. “Hi, Ms. Lana!” Kid shouted, waving his hand over his head.

“Hello, Ford,” Ms. Lana replied. A smile pulled at your lips. Kid had been in love with the movie actor Harrison Ford since he was little. He tried to get everyone to call him Ford, wanting to take after his idol, but Ms. Lana was the only one who actually did. Even today, it still made your brother grin. You were glad that Ms. Lana was still somehow able to make your brother happy. “Lana,” your dad said, walking over to her with a sympathetic look in his eyes that almost made you cringe. “Gerald,” she said, shaking his hand. “He’ll turn up,” your dad told her. Ms. Lana sniffed, nodding her head slowly. You reached out and linked your arm in hers. “Let’s get you some food,” you said. Having a conversation with Ms. Lana was always a special treat that you took advantage of when you could. Your dad and Scooter had been friends for a long while, but Ms. Lana and your mother had been even tighter. Whenever your dad said anything about the cut, Ms. Lana and Scooter were always excluded. They weren’t like the “others”. They were civilized. Or so your dad said.

But Ms. Lana held wisdom that you were always grateful to listen to. She understood you like very few others did. She could hear you screaming even when you said nothing. She didn’t know anything about how your father treated you or the true reason behind your mother’s departure, but she still cared. Sometimes, that was all you needed. Ms. Lana had you laughing after only a few sips of your tea. She was like the sun personified, light and laughter emulating from her with every word, every step. But for the past few months, that light had dimmed. The light she radiated was forced. You could feel it especially now. “How did finals go?” She asked. You smiled behind your teacup. “Ended with all A’s.” “That’s my girl!” Ms. Lana said, giving you a high five. “I know that you were stressed about that math class of yours.”

“Ugh, yeah, it was tough, but I did it.” “No cheating?” “Do I look like the kind of person who would cheat?” “You are your father’s daughter.” You hated what that insinuated. You took a large gulp of tea, letting the heat scald your throat. “So,” Ms. Lana said, tapping your knee with hers. “Have any boys caught your eye?” You coughed at the sudden question, the tea in your mouth spilling out back into your cup. “I’m sorry?” “I’m going to take that as a yes.” A mischievous smile graced Ms. Lana’s face. It was a real smile, a hint of true light shining through the darkness. You couldn’t take that away from her by shutting her question down. “You have to promise not to say anything to my dad,” you said, leaning forward. “You know how he is about boys.”

“Oh, a secret affair.” Ms. Lana raised an eyebrow and your face turned red. “I won’t say a word.” “Alright.” You leaned in a little bit closer, afraid of your voice carrying. “There is a boy that I have been sneaking out to see occasionally.” “What’s his name?” “Now, Ms. Lana, that is dangerous information. We could both get in a lot of trouble.” “I see. I understand.” Ms. Lana tapped the side of her nose with her finger. “But I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that he isn’t from this side of the island.”

Against your attempts to stay completely unphased, your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. When Ms. Lana let out a knowing laugh, you tried to hide your red face in your palms, a laugh of your own escaping your lips.

“That’s very Romeo and Juliet of you, Miss El,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “I hope it ends better than that,” you said, dropping your hands back into your lap. “Have no fear, my girl, I won’t say a word to your father.” Ms. Lana put a hand over yours. “And if you ever need a cover, you are more than welcome to use my name.”

You felt yourself smile, eyes watery. You leaned off of your chair, wrapping your arms around the woman’s neck. She startled for a moment, but then put an arm around your back. You tried not to sob into her shoulder right there and then. “I’ve got you, darling,” she whispered. “Thank you.” “What’s going on here?” You pulled away instantly at the sound of your father’s voice. You wiped away a small stray tear as Ms. Lana smiled up at your dad. “I just needed a hug,” Ms. Lana said. “I hope my daughter isn’t keeping you from eating anything,” your dad said, looking at the untouched sandwiches and salad bowls. “Nonsense, Gerald.” Ms. Lana waved her hand through the air. “Spending some girl time with El here was just what I needed to calm my nerves.” “That’s good to hear.” Ms. Lana sent you a knowing look as your father sat down. You tried to hide a smile. She left not much later with the sandwich wrapped in plastic and a tupperware of salad. “Are you sure I can’t give you more?” You asked as you helped her to the car. “Child, you have already done so much for me. This is enough,” Ms. Lana said. “I’ll see you soon, Ms. Lana.” “I’ll see you soon.” Watching her drive away, arms crossed over your stomach, reminded you of the day your mother left. You were used to screaming and dishes being thrown, but the sound of your mother crying in the dead of night? That wasn’t something you had numbed yourself to. Despite everything, you had never seen her cry. She was the strongest woman that you knew. You hadn’t been able to sleep, the pain in your stomach and your heart far too great. You felt disgusted with yourself, your own silent tears running from your eyes. When you heard her sobbing, you sat up, slowly. Your dad had gone to bed hours ago after a long fight with your mom, but you still crept by his room on your way down the stairs. When you got to the dining room, you found your mother fully dressed at the dining table, a suitcase by her side. Her head was in her hands, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. You knew immediately that she was leaving. Tears sprang into your eyes and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “Mom?” She gasped and looked up at you. When she used to look at you, there was always love in her eyes, always a smile on her face, but now there was only one thing in her eyes; disgust. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, voice breaking with every word, tears and makeup running down her cheeks. “I’m your mother! Why didn’t you tell me what he did to you?” The tears in your own eyes started to fall, hands shaking by your side. You were 14. How were you supposed to tell her what your dad had done? “God!” Your mother stood, grabbing the suitcase. “Mom?” You watched her walk right past you, but you felt frozen where you were. “Mom!” She threw open the door and paused for just a moment, taking one last look at you, before walking out. She couldn’t just leave you. Not when you needed her the most. You ran to the door, calling after her. You didn’t hear your father’s door open, didn’t hear him thundering down the stairs after you. All you could think of was stopping your mom from leaving. “Mom!” You screamed after her, running down the porch steps. She was already at her car, throwing her suitcase into the back. “Mom, wait!” She slid into the front seat, slamming the door shut just as you reached it. You pounded on the window, begging her to let you in. But she wouldn’t listen, she just cried and turned the car on. “Mom!” You pleaded, tears and sobs nearly choking you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Don’t leave me!” She pulled the car backward and you jumped away, not wanting to get your toes caught under the tire. You made to run after the car, but before you could get far, your dad grabbed you from behind.

“She’s gone, kiddo,” your dad whispered in your ear, but it only made you scream louder. “No! No, Mom!” “Come back inside, Elma,” your dad said, pulling you backward. “No!” You reached out for the car, even though it was long gone. You kicked out your feet as your dad hoisted you off the ground, dragging you back toward the house. “MOM!”

***

Returning from the memory was like bursting through the surface of the water. You were in the same place, Ms. Lana’s car retreating through the trees. You tried to smile and offered one last wave before she disappeared completely. It had been three years since your mother left. You tried to pretend it didn’t hurt anymore, but you would still sit on the porch sometimes when you couldn’t sleep, praying that you would see her car pull onto your lawn. It never did. “Elma! Let’s get back to work.”

***

You sat in bed later that night, tapping mindlessly on your computer. You were writing the same letter you had been writing for three years. You had written it on paper, thrown it away a million times. You had typed it out, deleting it a million times. It didn’t matter how many times you tried, you could not write the letter you wanted to your mother. Kid and your dad had gone to bed early. The day had been long and gruesome, so you didn’t blame them. You were exhausted, but your mind wouldn’t let you sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was your mother’s tear-stained face, her car pulling away from you without so much as a second a thought. Anger crackled at the tips of your fingers. Who the fuck leaves their two, defenseless children with an abusive asshole? Everyone still spoke so highly of her, as if she wasn’t just as bad as your dad. You slammed your laptop shut, but the little burst of anger was enough to trigger a silent outburst. You threw your computer against your beanbag chair, dropping to the floor. You were about to start pounding your fists into the hard wood when you heard a tap on your window. You looked up, eyes overrun with tears to see JJ peering in at you. You sucked in your lower lip, hanging your head for a moment. When he tapped again, you pushed yourself to your feet and pushed the window before dropping into another chair. “What did he do?” JJ asked, hands curled into fists at his side and his jaw tight as he stared at your door. You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand. JJ turned to you a knelt down on the ground. “What happened?” The anger was gone from him instantly as he looked at you. You shook your head again, feeling like there were a million rocks weighing you down. Instead of answering, you put one arm around his neck, slowly pulling him in as you slid to the ground. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening until you were kneeling in front of him, both of your arms around his neck. He linked his arms around your back, holding you tight. “What happened?” He asked again. “Babe, you can tell me.” He brushed hair from your face, but you shook your head for the third time, large tears rolling aimlessly from your cheeks. JJ stopped asking you questions, cradling your head as you clung to his shirt. Your breathing shuddered as you tried to calm down. Once the tears stopped flowing like a river and once you felt like you can breathe normally, you pulled away from JJ, exhausted from all the crying. “Why did you come?” You asked. “I have a bunch to tell you,” he said, lifting your chin. “Today was absolutely bat shit. Plus, we’re having a kegger and I thought you’d want to come.” You tried to smile and met his gaze, your eyes still watery. “I would love to go to a kegger and hear about your bat shit day,” you said. “Your dad-” “Screw him.” JJ grinned and helped you to your feet. “You can tell me whenever you’re ready,” he said as he led you to the window. You nodded your head once. “Let’s just get drunk, yeah?” “I can do that.”

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scoundrels-in-love · 4 years ago

Text

If I go (if you ask me to), I'm goin' crazy (Let my darlin' take me there)

On the cusp between spring and summer, Jaime and Brienne say goodbye to a house that was never home.

In Winterfell, there is a fresh start ahead of them. (That's what they say.) At least for her. (That's what he doesn't say.)

Also on AO3.

There are two long knocks, a pause and two knocks again on the door.

Jaime bolts upright from where he's been lying on the lumpy mattress, the Knights of Westeros book falling to the side. (He had been flipping through it, half mindlessly, trying to not think of Tyrion as much as he tried to recall his brother's smile. It's faded, like the picture of Goldenhand the Just that peers up at him. Like the value in the Lannister name.)

There are three knocks now, a brief pause that drags out and boils down to one heartbeat all at once, and four more rapid knocks. That's when the mad scramble begins.

It shouldn't be as haphazard as it is - the little he owns (and even less he is going to take with him) is all carefully stowed away and arranged just for this, but as his knees hit the floor with an impact that sends pain through the limbs, it feels frantic.

Jaime removes the floorboard beneath the bed with too much fervor and it creaks, breaking the silence like whiny thunder and he freezes, wondering if lightning won't strike after, this time. Listens and hopes he won't hear any footsteps, fears Brienne's scream spearing through him if she's been caught.

It never comes and he pulls out the bundle wrapped in rags, peels them away to peer into the contents of the plastic bag beneath, just to double check. Spare, clean clothes to shove in his backpack, some non-perishable foods he has squirreled away from the store he works at part time. (Brienne would disapprove, if he told her. But silence let's her look away from that and also from things Jaime wishes she'd at least steal a glance at. Then he could hope.)

Finally, he dives as deep as he can beneath the bed and fishes for the tin can in the hole. Cuts his shaking hand a little on the sharp edge when he pulls plastic-wrapped money out of it, but instead of that pain, there's a sting in his heart.

To think he has to keep few paper dragons and stags like this, when Lannisters used to...

He stops midthought, reels his attention to more important things. There have been many things that had been true once. There have been even more things that he had thought to be the truth. He thinks it's what you make it, these days. And he has to make his now.

Jaime puts the rags and board back in place, stuffs everything in his bag and moves to take a step, before he backpedals toward the bed and the nightstand beside it, the one that is always leaning away, as if the state of the bed disgusts it and it is any less dingy itself.

He picks up the book (also stolen, from the local library, but no one has even noticed it missing, he's sure) and forces it in the backpack that now won't zip up and hesitates, again. There is a matchbox in the back of the bottom drawer and Jaime knows it'll fizzle in the back of his mind if he leaves it. And it will smolder in his bag if he takes it.

He does it anyway, squishes it in one of the side pockets so it won't get ash and remnants of the photograph all over his stuff, just in case. His twin - them - have left enough marks on him as it is. (And he never did, for her.)

Just a year ago, he would've climbed out through the window, but now there is only searing pain in his right hand that cannot hold his weight and the inevitable loud crash in that direction, so Jaime takes the long road, through the corridor and down the stairs where every floorboard creaks, even when he steps close to the wall where they are less worn, for so many foster kids have used the exact same trick for years now.

But Roose Bolton has not been home for two days, and his wretched son seems to be gone as well. Jaime tries not to think of what Ramsay might be up to or what the Brave lot might attempt to out-trump him in cruelty. He isn't afraid, because he knows the slick warmth of wretched blood already and even the hand they tried to take from him is still strong enough to protect himself or Brienne, but he fears a delay might unravel their plans. (The look she gave him when he asked her to go ahead if he doesn't come to the oak within forty minutes of the signal had branded itself on his heart. Hers, hers not to abandon.)

In the end, he exits the house unnoticed. Still, the tension leaves sharper indents in his shoulders than the straps of his backpack as Jaime slips into the garden that has not known maintenance other than some furious and undiscriminate weeding of anything that grows as punishment for the foster kids.

He sees her peer around the oak tree and suddenly, there's no weight to him at all as he runs toward Brienne and then they are sinking to the ground, half to hide behind the bushes and half in relief that vibrates sharply around the edges. (It's just one step, one step that feels like a mile and hums of all the miles taken before it.)

Brienne's face is lit with bright determination, but even it casts shadows and he almosts asks, but later, later. Instead, he nods to her unspoken question and stands up.

There is just one good bye to say.

Jaime looks at the evenstar carved into the bark and smiles. This house doesn't get to keep anything more of them, only an indent left by hope they made themselves and then made real. His hand had hurt for days afterward, but each line had been a mark of his angry determination, a reminder that they can want more than they've picked up from carelessly thrown, often rotten scraps.

He had tried to add a lion instead of hearts or their initials next to it, but it had been far too complex and so Jaime had scratched the attempt out, furiously. (He tries not to look at it and think how symbolic it really is. Fails.)

Jaime places his palm over the star, asks for guidance one last time, though he's lucky enough to take his guiding star out of here and follow it into the unknown. (Fear of the unknown has nothing on walking the same patterns within your cage until your feet bleed, until the bone scrapes the dirt.)

Brienne's hand comes cover his own, large and warm, and callused, and he has never felt more grounded than in this moment. He tries to memorize this feeling as he meets her eyes, sees it reflected in the blue that has become the criteria to match up all other shades to in the last year.

And then they're off, weaving their way through the edge of the garden and onto the dirt road leading away. He doesn't look back. Everything he wants is walking right next to him, or ahead of her.

---

As they travel toward Winterfell, the cusp between spring and summer trickles through their fingers, leaving hot days and balmy afternoons in its wake.

It's not easy, getting by with less money than all the suspicious stares they earn along the way, though they become less frequent once the school year is over.

He half expects Brienne to eventually explain why that evening, why then and not a month later when high school diplomas, as unalike in their grades as the two of them are, would've been crumpled up at bottoms of their bags. But she never does. After all, there is a fresh start ahead of them. (That's what they say.) At least for her. (That's what he doesn't say.)

In unspoken agreement, they don't call Catelyn Stark the first week or the next, or any afterward. As if having the Starks coming to pick them up from anywhere else than their front door could make them change their minds.

He had thought it to be anger, red hot and tight around his ribcage, when she had told him Catelyn had recognized her as Selwyn's daughter and offered to help. That she had thanked and accepted the number, without jumping on the chance immediately. For coming back to this house for more than her bag.

And it had been that, in a way. Anger and desperation, and ache. To know she is safe and happy, even if on the other side of the country. Especially then, maybe. Because it had scared him, the campfires growing wild on the barren, littered beach inside of him, though even distraught, the oceans of her eyes could put them out.

It was that night that he had realized. Love meant the difference between anger contained and welts on someone's skin. And he had never been loved.

There is more to discover about love, still, and he has done almost every day since then. But never more than on this trip.

Some days, they both go more hungry than full. (He gives up on convincing her to take his share after the third time, but offers nonetheless.) Some nights, he whistles her lullaby under the open sky and curls up next to her, unable to steal minutes dipped in this peaceful warmth away from himself with sleep.

And yet, Brienne is often bright with cautious happiness these days and sometimes, it blows to this pure joy that he would never grow tired of watching, even if it would render him blind like the sun.

He does almost sneak away to call the number he has memorized as well as she has, in Moat Caitlin, ready to preserve that light even if it means their parting will be colored red with her angry blush. They're hungry and tired, and no one seems to want to give them a chance to haul some boxes around for a few stags. Their post-graduation adventure story isn't holding up much anymore, just like his shoes.

(He craves a smoke more than he’s craved it since the first month of quitting, but one implied promise broken is bad enough, so he grits his teeth and bears it.)

But when he enters a small family shop, in hopes to borrow a telephone, a different opportunity presents itself in the shape of Pia. His shaggy appearance doesn't deter her from flirting repeatedly, not even when Brienne follows him in and freezes in the doorway before approaching, and in half an hour, they've got an invite to stay for a while at her place, while her parents are visiting her grandmother.

The implication where he's sleeping are quite clear and he hopes his smile doesn't look as acidic as it burns across his lips. There are worse ways his body has been used in the name of love.

And yet, he cannot look at Brienne through the nice (he thinks, he can hardly taste it) dinner, there is sluggishness in him that spreads breath by breath.

Afterward, the hot water of shower feels too much, too much (like it had been over a year ago, when he had been just out of hospital and almost drowning in the bathtub before Brienne hauled him into her arms and back into life) and when doors of Pia's bedroom close behind him, he is numb and logy like his limbs aren't entirely his own. There may be a smile on his lips, Cersei liked when he smiled through everything she gave him, even when there was blood on his teeth.

She gives him one look and frowns. "No, Jaime, no. This... isn't whatever you think it is. I just thought we could have a bit of fun." Pia pushes him out of the room and into the living room, before hurrying off to bring him a blanket and an extra pillow and he just lets it happen, no witty quip in reach where he's hiding away.

"Does she even know?" Pia asks, lingering in the doorway after she's turned out the lights, and his silence in the darkness is an answer. "Well, she should."

"It's better if she doesn't, she won't get as hurt," He won't be as hurt if he doesn't know. The yes or the no and the very sweet, crushing uncertainty in between, or the softness of her lips and the glimpse of the ocean's taste in the sweatdrops on her neck.

"I doubt it protected her tonight," she says before walking upstairs and Jaime stays, sitting in the middle of the couch, buried neck deep in a blanket cozier than any he has known in years. That's where Brienne finds him the next morning.

"Jaime," she calls him as she kneels in front of him and he guesses, by her drawn expression and hand on his shoulder, not for the first time and he tries pull up a smile from the well reserved just for her, but the bucket falls off the hook, and he cannot do anything but lean forward and rest forehead against her shoulder.

"What happened, Jaime? Are you hurt? Did Pia..." she trails off, but he's already shaking his head. "No, nothing happened," he croaks and it grates on his tongue like the lie it is. But there's nothing that he can define or explain. Yet, she understands somehow and takes him to the kitchen, makes sure he drinks the tea and eats the food that he cannot remember later. And then she brings him to her bed and he thinks it to be so warm from her, though it must've been an hour since she got up, and that's where the rest of the day melts away.

When he wakes the next morning, he is crowded in the wall. She's facing him, her hand holding his in the small space between their bodies on the pillow. Jaime lays there watching her and the sun rises in him as it does beyond the windowpane.

He doesn't think he will ever be completely free of the void placed in him, emptiness that Cersei nurtured for it was endless space that sung in echo of all her desires, but in this moment, he knows he wants to build a fence around it, plant trees and little flowers that look brighter for the darkness that lays beyond them.

And that desire, he thinks, is the start to something that may shrink the void some day.

Maybe then, he can tell Brienne that she threw a falling star in the dark and when it wasn't extinguished, he realized there was an edge to it. Maybe then, he can build a home for her laughter, instead of fearing it'll finally break through the sky and escape him. Maybe then...

A million wishes hum softly when Brienne blinks sleepily at him, smiles faintly. He shifts his hand, to free hers, but her fingers tighten just so and he gives up immediately. (It's not like how he used to know it; she doesn't demand him to and the surrender is only for his own indulgence.)

"Looks like sleep did you some good," she says softly and brushes a few curls away from his face and he has to swallow thickly, not from desire for anything more, but the way the warmth and tenderness of her brings a flood of tears pressing against the dams he's determined to uphold.

"Oh Jaime," she murmurs and scoots closer and there are no more dams, just the ocean of her eyes that blur and overflow, in him and through him.

He buries his face in her neck, shakes apart until he's coughing and heaving and is only held together by her arms wrapped around him. Grieves all that could've been, all that has been broken, all that he will never touch with untainted hands, worships regret and guilt and then casts them out.

In their place, he anchors the weight of her hands on his back, the tickle of her hair against his forehead, the soft tremble of her inhale when he pulls back, breathing still uneven.

There's a tear streak on her cheek that he reaches to wipe away, because of course, she's hurting too and he-- But no, he cannot, will not take a new guilt on immediately. (He does, anyway.)

Brienne releases him then, gets up and brings some paper towels from the bathroom for him, because they're saving the tissues in their bags, and he blows his nose again and again. The silence between them should be uncomfortable, somehow, but instead of being embarrassed, he just feels dull and tired, but better for it.

"Fuck, my head hurts," he finally says.

"I'll bring some painkillers and water," she says, already halfway to the doorway and part of Jaime wants her to stay, wants to sink in sleep with her hand in his again, but instead he goes to the bathroom to wash his face.

"What are you going to do?" he asks the reflection that is familiar and unknown all at once, fingers tight around the sink. "What are you going to do?"

And finds the answer.

They leave Moat Caitlin almost a week later, truly rested and with almost-honestly earned food and necessities in their bags, thankful enough to actually plan to keep the promise to let Pia know how everything pans out in Winterfell when they get there. He knows Brienne will want to repay the money Pia has invested in them, if nothing else. Before they depart, their kind host tucks another "tell her" behind his ear, "because otherwise it's really not fair to the rest of us".

This, he cannot promise still, so he only smiles.

When they reach White Harbor, there is a stone in Jaime's chest, all the more heavy and jagged for the knowledge he will try to toss it out soon. He finds them a cheap trashcan of a motel and leaves Brienne to settle in, moves through the streets like the hounded, as if hesitating could mean he never goes through with it, or he just can't wait to get it done. (It's somewhere in the middle)

He stops only on a bridge over White Knife river, the nearest that he could find. The matchbox trembles briefly in his hand, like a flame about to be blown out, but then he presses close to the railing, and the quiver is gone.

Jaime opens it and dumps the content into the river below. He knows that the frail ash will probably never even reach water, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that he's given them burial in the water and the wind. That maybe with time the photograph in his mind will fade, too. That maybe he'll stop asking if it is his fault there's not a shadow of those two smiling children left.

He stays on the bridge for a while longer, thinking about their childhood (because he still can't think of that part of life in singular), about her smile and Tyrion's laughter, about games - the ones that didn't hurt anyone. The good things you're supposed to speak of at funerals. There hadn't been much good said at Tywin's, but he's seen the proper sort on TV.

When the sun sets and he comes back to the hotel, Brienne greets him almost wary, looking him over as if looking for injury. "Are you okay?" she asks, offering him a sandwich as Jaime plops down on the bed next to her. (They'll be sharing again and he doesn't mind in the slightest. Brienne had not complained either, not that she was one to do so.)

"Yeah, I am," he tells her, honestly, and realizes that there had been no splash when that stone had fallen into the river along with the ash, but it's gone nonetheless. There is empty space now, saved for a smile, and he does so, luring one from Brienne in response.

(When they're falling asleep, he presses the kiss to her forehead that has been aching on his lips.)

---

Winterfell is not as cold and miserable in late summer as he imagined, but it's no dream destination. Still, Jaime tells himself he's glad he won't have to make a home here, because even colorful ads don't bring much life to Wintertown. (What kind of name is that, even?)

It's not a lie that holds up when they're standing in front of a phone booth. They stare at the chipping paint on the door like it holds all answers to questions they don't even know, before Brienne turns to look at him, grabs his hand and pulls him inside.

The booth would barely hold her and the backpack, but with him, quite literally folded into it as well, it becomes absolutely cramped. Still, she finds a way to grab his hand somehow, after she's paid the fee.

"Hello Mrs. Stark? This is Brienne Tarth, daughter of Selwyn Tarth. Last year, you extended an offer - I was wondering if it was still open?" She listens and it's her grip that betrays her emotions, not her steady voice. They had discussed what to say, beforehand, but it had not been revibrating around them in a tiny phone booth then, so real and with the possibility to change their lives.

She looks at him, eyes wide and stormy and nods to not keep him in suspense, before continuing: "Thank you, Mrs. Stark. I am currently on the corner between Builderstreet and Ravenroad in Wintertown. And I have brought a friend with me. This is non-negotiable, though I understand if it changes your mind."

Brienne squeezes his hand, jaw set in challenge that rings clear in her voice and he is felled by it, frozen though he should grab the receiver and shout "no, no, I don't matter, forget about me, just please take her in". But he wouldn't even be able to locate it, he can only see her face and think that it almost glows somehow. He is no match for her in this moment, no one is.

"We will stay there, yes. Thank you again." And just like that, the time resumes, but he is still swept up in the river of her determination, not its flow.

"Breathe, Jaime," she tells him, smiling so brightly that he is suckerpunched by the reality of the sun's gravity and the almost tangible heat of her power, and he thaws, inhales deeply and shakily.

It would be so easy to tangle himself further into her and press a kiss to her mouth, a thank you and worship in one, to brand his lips with hers just so he could always remember I was hers, briefly, brilliantly. Here, in this space still bobbing along independent of everything beyond it.

And it would be the most unfair thing of all. To ask even more of her, to hurt her if Stark kindness runs thin when they learn just who is her companion, to give her only something so brief and not him whole as she deserves. (But will there ever be more of him?)

So, he pulls them back into the sunlight.

They are holding hands still as they wait for the Starks, strings of tension humming the same tune in both of them, but there is fierceness in Brienne's smile. It runs hot enough to light a kindling in him, not the destructive sort he's grown accustomed to, but a more dangerous one. Because like this, she looks like a knight that will champion for him, no matter the odds. And win.

He still wants to kiss her, like a favor given and taken before the battle, and the way she's looking at him right now, defiance melting into reassurance and warmth, something sparkling he can't define within, when their eyes meet, he can almost believe she wouldn't mind. But there is a world between not minding and melting into his touch like it's home. And no time to find out.

So he presses kiss to her forehead instead, breathes her in and swears it's not the last time, knows more than ever he can't let her go, and then they are ready to face the future.

Together.

#Braime #Jaime x Brienne #Braime ff #got #my fic #rainy writes stuff #smoking mentions

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katybaby00 · 5 years ago

Text

Guys my age

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Chunky!Reader

Warnings: Child abuse, if you’re sensitive to that please skip ahead. Body image issues. ABO dynamics. Smut (obviously). Mating. Claiming. Angst (from the reader). Dub-con. Moc. Daddy kink from the reader. I think that’s it!

A/N: This is my first A/B/O. Be kind. Constructive criticism is always welcome! I listened to Guys my age by Hey Violet on repeat. So feel free to listen to that song when it shows up in here. Enjoy my loves!

Beta’d by: @anawkwardartistandgamer

“Y/n! Get your ass down here!” Your foster mother shouted up the stairs. “Coming!” You place your journal down onto your nightstand and close your bedroom door softly, she hates when I close it loud. You make your way down the stairs, and as you reach the bottom the hateful beta woman looks up at you. Pulls you the rest of the way down the stairs and backhands your right cheek and it starts to flare up to red. “I thought I told you to take out the garbage?” She stares at you, face beet red. If she was any more red you thought she might have steam coming out of her ears, you giggle at the thought. She seethes and she starts smacking you, across your mouth busting your upper lip open. Then, with her right hand she busts your eyebrow open. You tumble on to the floor and she starts kicking and punching you. Your upper body, torso, and legs. You’re starting to feel your vision go fuzzy and darken at the corner of your eyes. She grabs you by your hair and drags you down the hallway, opens the creepy basement door, and then throws you down and locks it. As you tumble down the stairs an exposed nail slices into your waist and starts bleeding. As your body hits the last few steps your head smacks off of the support beam and your world goes black.

You wake up in the hospital with your social worker Maria. You and her have been through a lot together. This wouldn’t be the first time she has found you at the hospital covered in bruises and stitches. She is an amazing person and I am very grateful for her. “Maria? Maria, where am I?” She is startled that you’re talking. “Y/n, you have been in the hospital for 5 weeks. The doctors said that you were in a coma. But a very slight one, you didn’t hit your head hard enough to do major damage. And the cut on your waist is stitched up. You needed 7 stitches. While your foster mother was beating you the neighbors heard you screaming and called the police. She won’t ever touch or see you again. I promise. In the meantime you need to get your rest and I will talk to the doctor about your release papers.” That was a massive relief to hear her say that. But you were tired of always jumping from home to home. Never knowing when you would get a good or bad one. You look at her, “Nobody wants a 15 year old, Maria. Nobody would ever want me anyway. I mean look at me. I’m fat. Stretch marks. Cellulite. In places I didn’t even think possible. I’m disgusting! And in 3 years I’ll figure out if I’m going to be alpha, beta, or omega. I’ll probably be a beta. Nobody would want to be with me if I was an omega anyway! Just let me go. Let me leave, you can say that I ran away. But please, don’t look for me.” Crying into your hands. Maria sets her hands on your leg. “Y/n, I know that things are hard right now. Nothing seems to not be going the way you had hoped, and I understand that. I really do. I want to help you. So I’m going to go talk to the doctor. I’ll see you later.” She squeezes your hand. Getting up she walks towards the door and before she leaves she looks over her shoulder and gives you a knowing smile. You cried because she was the only real friend you ever knew. I will miss her more than anything.

2 years later and you were better than ever slipping from couch to couch in your friends’ homes, hitchhiking, and hustling pool in your free time at dive bars. You had run into a couple who said they hunted things, you assumed it was like wild game, and wanted to see what they would be hunting. So you decided that one night you would follow them and see what it was. Big mistake. You found yourself tied with your hands above your head on a meat hook in an abandoned warehouse with an IV in your arm. ‘Great.’ You thought as you tried to free your hands. Luckily you were rescued by Eva and Dave, who explained to you that what you did was very stupid and you shouldn’t just follow strangers places. And blah blah blah. You convinced them to take you under their wing and teach you everything they knew about the ‘“hunting life” as they called it. So off you went. Killing demons, djinn, witches, and even dragons. For the next year. Then came your 18th birthday. The day you had been dreading since the hospital. “Eva? What if I’m an omega? What if I’m an alpha? How will I even know what I am?” She just laughs and rubs your shoulders. “I knew almost instantly that I was an omega. So did every omega in my family. I have no doubt in my mind that you will know almost immediately. Even Dave said he knew almost instantly that he was an alpha. You will be just fine. You have like 5 minutes until it's midnight. Then you’ll know. Trust me.” You sat back on the creaky couch of their family cabin and chewed your nails. 4 minutes. 3 minutes. 2 minutes. 1 minute. “What if I’m an omega? How am I going to get threw my heats and how am-`” ''Listen to me,” she cut you off. “I got scent blockers, pills, and everything you will need to get you through this m’kay? You are going to be just fine.” Midnight struck. “I don’t actually feel anything. Maybe I’m a beta. God i was really hop-” and just like that a gut wrenching cramp punched through your stomach and you doubled over in pain. Your body heating up like you just stepped into a sauna. Sweat started rolling down your forehead and you felt the urge to clench your legs together. “Dave, honey, why don’t you go take a drive or stay at a motel. Just to make things more comfortable for Y/n. Okay? I don’t think she needs to be around an alpha this early.” He walks over to Eva and kisses her cheek then walks out the door. “Eva! Oh my god. Why does this hurt so bad? It feels like my insides are going to come apart.” “Sh, honey I know the first one is sometimes the hardest. You just have to get yourself through it. Unless you want me to go pick some guy-” “Absolutely not Eva don’t you even think about it!” You shouted as you doubled over again and you could feel the slick soak your underwear.

Two years later you had gotten it under control. You could feel when one was coming on and you avoided alphas at all costs. Or at least as much as you could. Eva and Dave decided that you knew enough to hunt on your own and you agreed. They didn’t like you being an unmated omega hunting alone but they also knew that they couldn’t stop you either. So here you sat in Kansas City, Kansas at some bar with too many college kids. You looked older than 20 so the bouncers never questioned it. As it turns out, a ghost had been messing with some fraternities and here you are. You took care of it, in and out. Simple salt and burn.You sat down at the bar determined to maybe find a beta or shy alpha, hopefully. You could feel your heat coming, but it wasn’t close enough to draw attention to you. After all, never having a knot, your options were limited. 2 hours and many shots later you were about to give up when you heard the song that made your body come to life start to play. Mainly because it was true. You had always dated older men, then when you tried to date someone younger it ended in disaster. So you stuck with the silver foxes and 25 plus men. You tossed your flanel to the side wearing a tank top and short shorts with combat boots. The bass of the speakers in your chest and how it swarmed your body, it felt like you were flying. The endorphins that flooded your system and how high the song was making you. Plus the amount of shots you had, dancing around this many good looking people, you didn’t have a care in the world. That was until you could feel eyes on you. You noticed your suppressant cream was starting to come off. So you ran towards the exit and practically knocked over an extremely large man with shaggy brown hair. As soon as you hit him it was like hitting a wall of arousal, he smelled amazing. Like sandalwood, whiskey, and old books. Shit. “Hey. Woah, easy there. Why are you run-“ he took a deep breath in through his nose and took a step back. “You’re an omega.” He grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd of people out of the bar and into the parking lot, dragging you behind him. “Hey! Stop! Wait! God, alpha’s never fucking listen!” Even though He was dragging you through the crowd of people his grip wasn’t too tight. He held your wrist with such care. You could tell that there is more to this man that meets the eye. You shouted and yanked your arm away, he turned to look at you. “Ah, no. Not God. His name is actually Chuck and he’s a douche.” You give him a bewildered look, “What? You know what, I don’t care. Look I don’t even know who you are! What makes you think I’m just going to leave with you?” The way he looked at you held something more. Something you couldn’t put your finger on. Like an instinct that you had to follow, that you needed to follow. His eyebrows shot up and he gave you an apologetic look. “Oh right, I probably should’ve started with that. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want anyone else to smell you. I have been waiting a long ass time to find you. I never thought I would, but you were dancing, and I caught your scent and I couldn’t help but stare and then you bolted out and ran into me. I’m sorry.” You look up at the man. “What’s your name?” “I probably should have started with that. My name is Sam. Sam Winchester.” You scoff. “There is no way. The Winchester’s are a myth. There is also no way, out of all of these people in the world, you “Sam Winchester” is my alpha there’s no way!” You start to laugh then. “This is crazy. You guys are obviously fucking with me…” Sam just looks at you. “Listen I know this is crazy. Believe me, we are obviously not a myth if we’re standing right in front of you. I’m Sam.” You take a step back and put your hands to your temples. There is no fucking way that this is happening! Cursing yourself. “Okay… you are definitely going to have to prove it to me. Because I have only ever heard stories, not that you are actually living and breathing. You are way too hot to be the Winchester’s. They sounded so burly and rough. Not big, sexy, strong… alpha’s.” You start to trail off and your stomach cramps and your panties grow damp. Sam shoots forward and wraps you in his arms and purrs. His instincts took over. He sniffs your hair and nuzzles his face into your neck. Sam clears his throat and let’s you go. “Sorry. I just, yeah.” You smile up at the alpha “It’s okay. We should probably get to know each other before you just fuck me senseless huh?” Sam sucks in a breath and coughs. That’s when Dean walks up. His eyes get wide when he hears what you said. Dean looks over at you and laughs, “Let’s get back to the motel and get some liquid courage. We can take my baby.” “That's a great idea. I didn’t drive here, I walked.” Sam turns to you and grabs your shoulders, “You walked?! Are you crazy? You’re an unclaimed omega walking to a bar at night. That is irresponsible and dangerous.” You chuckle and reach into your boot and pull out a silver blade and twirl it in your fingers. “Down boy. I got this covered.” You pat his chest and brush past him towards the impala. Sam jogs up behind you, “So what’s your name?” “Oh right. It’s Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” Later that night. You and Sam are by the impala and you’re sitting on the trunk, with your hands behind you and legs swinging off the edge admiring the stars while Dean got the beer and whiskey. Sam clears his throat and finally speaks, “So I never asked how old you were.” You look at him and clear your throat. Dreading his reaction. “I’d like to know your age first. Just to see how much younger I am.” You give him a slight nudge on the shoulder and your hand lingers for a while. “I’m 33.” Your eyes shoot open and you sit up straight looking at him. Your cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. Sam must have noticed. “Sam. I- um. I’m 20.” His eyes get as wide as saucers. “Oh. I knew you were young but I didn't know you were that young. I just assumed that you were at least 21 to be in a bar.” You sigh and jump down off the trunk. “Yeah I figured that would be your reaction. I mean look at me.” You say gesturing to yourself. He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” You scoff, “Oh come on Sam. Don’t tell me you don’t see it, I’m not stupid. I’m 13 years younger than you and I’m fat Sam. Stretch marks, baby face, cellulite,daddy and mommy issues, and too much skin in all the wrong places. That’s the reason I've never had an alpha or anyone else for that matter. Who would want to knot someone like me? And I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t want to either.” You drop your head and kick the rocks by your feet, letting a tear run down your cheek. He takes his hand and lifts your chin up with his index finger and rubs your jaw with his thumb. “Y/n do you really think that because of your weight and age that I wouldn't love you. You’re my omega. Nothing can change that. Not any stupid number on a scale or of you’re 20. I have waited so long to find you, and now here you are. I didn’t know that it was that young.” You give Sam a small smile and he wraps you in a tight hug. “Yeah you’re right.” Sam holds you tight and gives you a kiss on the top of your head.

“When we get to the motel can we see if they have another room. I want to wash this awful smelling cream off of me. If that’s okay?” He smiles and holds you tighter. “Of course it is.” Sam puts his arm around you and pulls you closer. You see Dean coming out of the gas station with a big goofy grin on his face. Sam takes notice and laughs. He nudges you and nods to Dean, “That’s his ‘I’m getting laid tonight face’. ''It's pretty funny.” You giggle and look at Dean, “He has a face for that?” Dean gets to the gas pumps and gives you a smile and says, “Looks like we’re getting separate rooms tonight.” Sam laughs and turns to look at you. “Oh yeah he has a face for everything.” Getting into the impala and heading back to the motel you lean up front in between the boys, “Hey Dean? Do you mind if I play a song?” He chuckles and looks back at you and then to the road. “Sweetheart this has a cassette player. Not an aux cord thingy. Besides, the driver picks the music, and shotgun shuts his cake hole.” You laugh and reach into your bag and pull out a “Hey Violet” cassette tape. “You never said anything about the backseat. Here. Play this. Number 4. Just do me a favor and let it play. It’s my favorite song.” as the song floods the speakers Dean groans. “This girly shit?” “Shh. Listen. Sam, you too.” Sam looks over his shoulder and gives you a knowing side smile. “So you like older guys huh?” Dean says as he looks in the rear view. “Dean, will you please listen. It’s actually a really good song. You might learn a thing or two.” As the song flows through the speakers and through your veins. You can’t help but stare at the back of Sam’s head thinking about running your fingers through it and tugging. Your body heats up at the intrusive thought and you can feel slick coat your underwear. Making you nervous with two alphas in the car. Sam’s shoulders straighten first and he lets out a low growl. Dean runs his hand over his face and adjusts himself in his pants without Sam knowing. Pulling into the motel Dean gets out and goes into the office to grab another room. Sam turns around and wraps his massive hand around the back of your head and pulls you towards him with a smile on his face. His eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes. He kisses you, slow and soft. It feels like he’s pouring everything he’s feeling into that one kiss. You hum into the kiss. Dean opens the door and throws Sam the room key and heads to the trunk to get your bags. “Hey guys I’m just going to run to the room I had here and grab my bag and stuff. I’ll be right back.”

After you grab your stuff from your old room and walk to the office to return your key, you walk into the room and see that he has put your bag and his onto the bed. So you grab your bag and pull open the zipper, then an idea hits you and the little light bulb above your head flips on. You grab some pajamas and make your way over to the bathroom. Upon opening the door you don’t think Sam notices you. So you continue with your plan. Taking off your top then your boots, socks, shorts, bra, and finally you slowly slide your underwear down your legs making sure to bend over just in case you have an audience. You slip into the shower right behind Sam and wrap your arms around his middle. He jumps slightly and then relaxes when he catches your scent. He wishes you would hurry and rinse that cream off so he could scent you better. “Are we crazy for doing this?” He chuckles and smiles before turning around. “Y/n I think that we would be crazy not to do this. You’re my true mate. And I'm yours. There’s no denying it. I just wish I could have found you sooner.” Your heart flutters at his words. In one swift motion you reach behind his head and pull him into a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongues working together to please the other. Sam growls low in his throat and you can feel it reverberated into your chest making your omega instincts crave his touch. Pushing into him more he stops you with a hand on your chest. “‘Mega please wash that god awful cream away so I can scent you. It smells so bad. I want the real you.” You giggle and grab the body wash. “Yes alpha.” he shivers at the title and pulls your body against his front. You can feel his cock get rock hard. You can feel the slick of yourself run down your legs. “S-Sam. Please, I want you so bad.” He pulls you closer, if that’s even possible and he kisses and nips at your shoulders. Trying your best to scrub the cream off you finally finish with no help from Sam.

You quickly step out of the shower and grab the nearest towel and dry off quickly. Sam followed close behind. After you are completely dried off you go and before you can get some shorts and a sleep shirt on. Sam reaches you and spins you around and kisses you. Making you stumble backwards on to the bed. “Present for me omega. Present for your alpha.” Climbing onto the bed you can’t help but let out a whine. Sam grabs his cock and he gives it a few pumps. As you get positioned you can feel Sam’s eyes on your round ass. He’s looking at the way your back arches for his and how dripping wet your pussy looks. “Good girl omega. Such a pretty pussy.” You come down lower to the bed chest flat against it and arms resting by your head. You don’t start getting nervous until the bed dips, which Sam can sense. “Hey baby, you’re doing so good right now. Look so perfect for me. I promise I’m going to be gentle. I’m going to be so fucking gentle.” he says while he sinks a finger into you. He slides his finger in and out slowly before adding another, which makes you gasp. “It stings a little.” “Yeah baby girl it’s going to. I just have to open you up or it’s going to really hurt and I don’t want to hurt you.” So you relax completely trusting your alpha. He glides his fingers in and out and then he makes a come hither motion and you moan, loud. Loud enough for the whole motel to hear. He keeps going and you’re a panting and moaning mess. You can feel the smirk on Sam’s lips watching you come undone for him. “That’s it ‘mega. Cum on my fingers.” That’s all it took to send you crashing over the edge. “Oh fuck! Shit shit shit. Oh god Sam.” clenching around his fingers you can feel your juices run down the inside of your thighs and you let out a shaky breath. Sam slides his fingers out of you and leans over your body, “I’m not done with you yet omega.” he smirks and pulls your hips higher and closer to his body and you can feel his cock prod at your entrance. The only thing you want to do is relax for him. He pumps himself a few times and takes the head of his cock and brushes it along your folds, gathering your wetness. “So wet for me baby. So beautiful.” You wiggle and push back against him, causing him to grunt. He sinks the head of his cock into you. Making your eyes pop open and a hiss coming from you. “Sam that’s too much.” “Baby if you don’t relax it’s going to hurt,” he pushes into you slowly, inch by inch, “you’re doing so good,” he keeps going until he bottoms out, “fuck. You are so fucking tight. So fucking perfect for your alpha. Are you okay?” You push back against him trying to get some sort of movement out of him and he grabs you by your throat and pulls you back against his chest. “You’re such a needy little omega aren’t you?” Lost in the moment you reply, “Yes daddy.” You freeze. Sam freezes. Neither of you move for a couple seconds. “What did you just call me?” You take a deep breath. “Sam I’m sorry. I didn’t me-” he slaps his hand over your mouth and bites down on to your neck making you push back into him. He leans down and whispers into your ear, “Say. It. Again.” He enunciated every word. This sent shivers down your spine making you whimper into his hand. As he let his hand fall back to your throat you cry out, “Oh fuck. Please fucking move. You’re killing me. Please daddy?” “Good girl.” He pulls almost all the way out and then snaps his hips forward sending your chest to the bed and a scream to rip from your throat. He grunts out loud and moans at the angle he’s at. Setting a maddening pace that makes you see stars. The coil just keeps getting tighter and tighter the more he fucks you into the mattress. Then he pushes your back down towards the bed with your ass in the air and he hits that sweet spot, “Oh my god. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His name came out in screams like a song that's stuck in your head. You cum around his thick cock and you can feel his knot starting to catch inside your tight walls. He starts fucking your faster and you can feel his hips falter, “Oh fuck Y/n. I’m gonna cum.” And with that his knot catches and you can feel his teeth sink into your neck claiming you forever. He coats the inside of your walls, rope and rope of cum filling your belly. Sam leans over and kisses your shoulder, making sure to lick at his fresh mark. He rolls you both over waiting for his knot to soften. “Y/n. I am so glad that I finally found you.” You take his large hand and hold it in your much smaller hand. “Me too alpha.”

#samwinchester #spnsmut #supernaturalsmut #supernatural #alpha!sam #x reader #supernatural a/b/o #spn au fanfiction #alpha!dean #moc #abo dynamics

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aftgficrec · 5 years ago

Note

HEY! Um so I read this fic or something recently about kevin adopting rikos son. these two accounts have it but i couldn’t find the other. i think the kids name was Niko Doe??????? It’s wild

You’re right, anon, Kevin Day adopting Riko’s son Nikoshi is a concept we found on these three tumblr blogs. We tried to collect as many of the posts about Nikoshi as we could, both text and art. Enjoy! - S

andrewminyardamiright

what if Riko had a son by @andrewminyardamiright [tumblr, 2020]

So I was thinking something crazy. what if Rico had a son.

side-effect-of-the-meds

Nikoshi Doe master post by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

Nikoshi Doe part 1 by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

Okay so Nikoshi Motherfucking Doe

Nikoshi Doe part 2 by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

So, it seems that some of y’all have taken an interest in Niko!!! I’m so glad. Anyway, here’s part two

tw: scars, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

what if Niko has race problems by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

Niko definitely deals with some racism but you’re dead wrong if you think that Kevin is going to let that shit slide for a second.

tw: racism

one time Niko reminded Kevin too much of Riko by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

One time, Niko’s patience started to wear thin after a long day at school and Amalia just didn’t seem to notice so she kept pestering him.

tw: violence

Niko and the foster care system by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

People tend to brush over things like this when they happen to boys

would Niko ever talk to Aaron and Kevin about his experiences by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

Niko never really talks about the weird things the foster moms did bc he still doesn’t really understand but he does talk about the physical abuse he suffered with Aaron

Niko's disorder by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, May 2020]

Winter and Niko by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, May 2020]

Winter is the sweetest, funniest, and most beautiful being Niko’s ever met.

Winter's appearance by @side-effect-of-the-meds [tumblr, April 2020]

sadboyayeron

Tapping at my chamber door part 1 by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, April 2020]

(This is how everything started, this is Nikos mothers POV)

Tapping at my chamber door part 2 by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, April 2020]

Niko was used to being woken up in the morning by yelling.

Tapping at my chamber door part 3 by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, May 2020]

“So Kevin Day, It is very nice to meet you my husband loves watching you guys play Exy,”

The only valid Moiyama by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, May 2020]

I came up with this Idea of Kevin having to raise Rikos son who’s name I decide would be Nikoshi Doe aka Niko

Nikoshi's mother by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, April 2020]

Nikoshis mother was born in jamaica but came to the states at a young age living in brooklyn or the bronx

Nikoshi meaning by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, April 2020]

Art

Nikoshi's clothes by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, April 2020]

Kevin's adopted son by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, April 2020]

Nikoshi Doe art by @sadboyayeron [tumblr, April 2020]

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years ago

Link

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 4,014 Warnings: Depression, Dissociation, Abuse reference, Drug Trafficking Reference, Food, Horrible Internet Recipes Characters: Roman, Thomas, Virgil, Patton Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Angst/Family

Chapter 19

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

Roman woke up to canned laughter on TV. Virgil was watching the old black-and-white Addams Family show. It surprised Roman it wasn’t too campy for Virgil even if it was clearly his style. Virgil perched on the couch arm on the other end of the couch on his phone, but he was looking up to the show more than his phone. Roman didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep. Probably because he’s still sleeping like shit. Maybe it caught up to him. Maybe he was just sick enough of everything that his brain finally gave up. If only that power could be utilized at night. He was mad he had to wake up, though. He wanted to stay asleep forever. But he may as well be here to suffer just the same. Just staying asleep was probably too good for him, anyway. Roman rubbed his face, forgetting about the gloves. They pulled at his skin a bit. Whatever.

Roman exhaled and stared ahead. He was feeling kind of numb. Out of energy? Out of fucks to give? His brain’s finally given up on him? Why didn’t really matter. It didn’t feel like much mattered. Stuff probably did. He had to remember there were things that did. It was something that is caseworker told him to do; he remembered that. When it felt like nothing mattered, he had to make things matter again. It was hard, though. Lita was curled up at his feet. Lita mattered. He couldn’t run with her anymore, but that didn’t matter. The Sanders mattered. They were nice. He felt like a burden on the Sanders, but maybe he could make that thing not matter. Nope, it mattered that he was an awful burden still. Remus mattered. That was always something Roman could hold on to.

Oh, oh! It was Friday. Friday meant that maybe Mr. Hartley might have a way to contact Remus. That mattered. That mattered so much. Roman shifted as much as he could without twisting his torso to check the clock. There was still a while to go. Roman sighed and settled back down on to the couch. Why can’t he just go back to sleep?

“Ah, nice to you, bright eyes. You’re looking slightly less pale,” Thomas said, leaning over the top of the couch.

“Hey,” Roman said weakly and waved, barely glancing at Thomas.

“Still not feeling great?” Thomas asked. Roman shrugged, he wasn’t feeling much of anything. “It’d be really helpful if you told me how you were doing,” Thomas said patiently.

“I don’t feel anything,” Roman supplied. “So, y’know,” Roman shrugged again. Thomas looked concerned at him for a moment.

“How are your ribs?” Thomas asked. Roman still didn’t know, so just tilted his head and made a dismissive motion with his hands. “How about I help you in to the backyard? You can play fetch with Lita and get a little sun. You’ve been cooped up too long,” Thomas offered. Roman blinked a few times, processing that.

“Whatever,” Roman conceded. He supposed he didn’t really care where he was.

“Virgil, could you reach around and knock on the window when Patton comes in?” Thomas looked over to Virgil, who nodded after a pause. “Thanks,” Thomas came around the couch and helped Roman up. His body really didn’t want to move, it seemed, since he felt stiff and creaky, but the more he moved the easier it was.

Thomas helped Roman on to a chaise lounge in the backyard. Roman stared ahead to the fence and the garden in the back. He heard Lita’s dog tags jingle, and she excitedly shoved her nose into Roman’s dangling palm. Roman pet her head idly for a moment until she started running around the yard. Roman’s eyes followed her around the backyard until she ran up with a tennis ball. He took it and threw it kind of weakly, but she barked and chased after it all the same.

“It’s nice outside, isn’t it?” Thomas commented.

“Hm?” Roman made a noise, not really following what Thomas said for a moment. Then he processed it and noticed the temperature. It was nice and warm with a little breeze. “Yeah,” Roman agreed. Lita ran back up with the ball and Roman threw it a little better this time.

“If you could do anything, what would you pick to do right now?” Thomas asked, leaning against the house.

“See Remus,” Roman shrugged.

“We’ll see what your social worker says. What would you do with Remus if you had all the time and resources in the world?” Thomas leaned against the top of the chaise lounge.

“Roller coasters. Maybe a water park,” Roman responded after a pause.

“Do you like theme parks?” Thomas asked. What was this, 20 questions? Lita made a lap around the yard again.

“They sound fun,” Roman said dismissively.

“Have you ever been to a theme park?” Thomas watched Lita run in circles and trip over her own leg with a chuckle.

“No, I’ve just heard about them in school,” Roman shook his head. “I’ve been to a pool that had a giant slide and that was fun, so I bet roller coasters are, too. Remus likes heights and jumping off of stuff. Liked, I guess. I guess I don’t know what he likes anymore,” Roman said a little dourly.

“Did you jump off things a lot when you were younger?” Thomas asked lightly.

“All the time. Mom always got so mad at us,” Roman laughed weakly.

“When did you last seem him?” Thomas asked, leaning against the chaise lounge.

“The first family we were with was the only one willing to take two kids. They split us up after they kicked us back for being too much,” Roman explained.

“You haven’t even gotten to visit him since they separated you?” Thomas sounded concerned.

“Yeah,” Roman muttered and wrung his fingers a bit. “It was never a priority. Or they broke their promises. Or it was too far. Or it was too much effort. Blood relations aren’t important. I didn’t earn it. I’m not worth it. I’ve heard a lot of reasons. I stopped asking. We used to talk on the phone before I wasn’t allowed to use phones anymore,” Roman watched the breeze ruffle the leaves. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. What’s a hobby that sounds awesome to try?” Thomas changed subjects. Maybe it was 20 questions.

“Um. I don’t know,” Roman said honestly. Open-ended questions were always hard for him.

“What stuff do you like?” Thomas leaned down and picked up the tennis ball Lita dropped too far away for Roman to reach and handed it off to Roman to throw again. Roman chucked it farther this time and Lita went wild chasing it, nearly ramming into the fence.

“Art… and doing stuff with my hands or things that are active, I guess,” Roman said after a lengthy pause of strained consideration.

“What stuff are you good at?” Thomas asked. Roman froze. There was a knock on the window. Saved by Virgil. Thank god, he nearly said ‘fucking up’. Roman blinked and shook his head for a moment in sheer relief.

“Patton’s here,” Roman provided, pointing to the door.

“Keep your gloves on, please,” Thomas said and went back inside. Lita came happily trotting up again and hopped up and panted happily on his lap. Roman smiled slightly and pet her. He tried to scratch behind her ears, but with the gloves, it was more like weird rubbing, so he stuck to petting. Patton came out on to a patio munching on a muffin a few minutes later.

“Hey kiddo!” Patton smiled brightly.

“Hey,” Roman waved slightly and kept petting Lita.

“Feeling kind of out of it, huh?” Patton asked, walking up to Roman.

“Kinda,” Roman stared at the sky. He was a little more here than earlier, but still kinda… eh.

“You want to come sit in the grass with me?” Patton asked, holding out his hand. Roman looked to Patton and took his hand. Lita jumped off his lap, and they walked off the patio into the yard. “You can take off those snazzy gloves,” Roman slipped them off and Patton helped Roman down into the grass. They both sat there quietly for a moment. Feeling the grass was actually pretty nice after wearing those gloves all day. “What did you do this afternoon?”

“Um, I read in Thomas’s office and played games. Sorry,” Roman muttered and trailed off.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, you were doing what we asked you to do. Thomas said you wanted to do some homework. Did you want to work on it together after dinner?” Patton said sympathetically.

“I’ve, uh, got it,” Roman muttered.

“We asked you to take a break so we should help you catch up, it’s only fair. I swung by the school to pick up the rest of your homework for this week,” Patton said.

“Oh, goody,” Roman deadpanned and Patton chuckled.

“What kind of food do you like? You don’t normally say you want anything specific,” Patton asked, leaning forward on his hands in the grass.

“I’m really not picky,” Roman shrugged and worried a blade of grass between his fingers.

“I’m just wondering if you have a favourite food,” Patton said, tilting his head and looking over hopefully to Roman.

“Not really,” Roman shook his head.

“So, what would be your last meal if you got to pick one?” Patton asked, holding up a finger.

“Something fancy, probably. Lobster is fancy, right?” Roman picked at a grass blade that came off between his fingers.

“So there're no foods that make you excited?” Patton asked curiously. Roman shook his head. Not anymore, anyway. “Maybe we need to find your new favourite food, then! We can try out fun recipes online,” Patton offered.

“You don’t have to do an effort for me, I’ll eat whatever,” Roman held up the grass blade he was picking at and released it to the breeze.

“I know you’ll eat ‘whatever’, but it’s fun to try new foods! I was trying to pick what to make for dinner tonight,” Patton explained.

“Virgil usually has a preference, you could ask him,” Roman motioned with his thumb towards the house.

“He normally does,” Patton chuckled in agreement. Roman considered what he thought Virgil might like for a moment and got an idea.

“I saw this recipe for enchilada lasagna he might like. Us mortals should be able to eat it with sour cream,” Roman offered. Plus, he was curious if any of those foods in the videos he’d been watching lately were any good or if they were just for show.

“Oh, it’s a spicy one?” Patton snickered curiously.

“Not inedible. He’ll probably still want to put hot sauce on it,” Roman mimed using a hot sauce bottle, with a slight grin.

“Let’s go see if we have ingredients for it. I’m not sure about enchilada sauce,” Patton said, sounding like he was thinking hard.

“My grandmother would yell at me from beyond the grave if I used canned enchilada sauce when it’s cheaper to buy tomato sauce,” Roman laughed, moving to get up.

“Oh, did you used to cook with her?” Patton scrambled up quickly to help Roman take the pressure off his feet.

“She watched us often,” Roman said dismissively.

“Was your grandmother the one who taught you how to cook?” Patton held open the door for Roman to head back inside.

“My mom and grandmother both learned quickly it was better to keep us busy, so we helped them cook often. We were too young for lots of it, though, I finished learning at the library,” Roman said, the pair of them heading into the kitchen.

“That’s very proactive of you! So, what do we need for this?” Patton asked as they entered the kitchen.

“Enchilada stuff. Meat, black beans, cheese, tortillas, onion, peppers, bell peppers, tomato sauce,” Roman supplied.

“Oh, sorry kiddo, we don’t have tortillas,” Patton frowned.

“They’re flour and water. Do you not have flour and water?” Roman smirked, leaning into the vegetable drawer in the fridge.

“Oh, really?” Patton said curiously, digging in the pantry.

“What meat do you want to use?” Roman asked as he procured the needed vegetables.

“What do you think is best?” Patton asked.

“Chicken thighs, probably,” Roman pulled that out from the meat drawer as well. “Do you have canned peppers? There’s none in here,” Roman stuck his head out of the fridge to ask Patton.

“We do, I’ll get them,” Patton said and withdrew a few cans and brought them to the counter. “Grandma won’t be mad about canned peppers?”

“My grandmother grew her own peppers, but she supports the use of canned,” Roman smiled fondly. “Whatever was cheapest was the best option. She was on a fixed income. She planted seeds from the ones she got from a friend. She was always proud of her ‘stolen garden’,” Roman put the things from the fridge on the counter.

“Wow, your grandma was awesome,” Patton smiled.

“She was determined,” Roman dug around on the spice shelf for the spices they’d need.

“So are you! Let's get you a chair so you can get off your feet,” Patton said, grabbing a chair from the kitchen table and putting it next to Roman.

“What’s first?” Patton asked brightly.

“Seasoning the chicken,” Roman provided. He kneeled on the chair so he could still reach the counter but get off his feet. They were already hurting. Patton let Roman do most of the cooking. It was understandable, he didn’t know the seasonings and only Roman knew how to make tortillas. But he ran around the kitchen getting Roman things and chopped up the vegetables to he could make them. He even let Roman cook the filling, which he could have taken over for. But Roman really liked being able to do something after doing nothing for days, so he said nothing, even when his knees got kind of sore.

Roman sat down on a kitchen chair in with an exhausted exhale after Patton slid it in the oven to finish cooking. Roman leaned forward on the table tiredly, hoping the monstrosity would taste good. Patton sat down with him with an odd-looking smile.

“It smells amazing in here. I’m sure you did your grandma proud,” Patton said brightly.

“I’m pretty certain she would say this is an abomination, actually, but she’d laugh while she said it before ranting about how deeply and horrifically wrong it is,” Roman smiled and shook his head. He was acutely aware of how wrong this ‘meal’ was, too. But the morbid curiosity about Virgil’s capacity to eat garbage was louder than his good sense. The ingredients were all good, so it was relatively low risk, dinner wise. Unless they got mad at him for making garbage food, maybe. God, did his knees hurt after all that kneeling. He stretched them carefully under the kitchen table. “She always liked what we did, even if it was terrible. She had crayon drawings from when I was 3 framed on the wall.”

“She sounds very sweet,” Patton smiled softly.

“You would have probably gotten along with her,” Roman leaned on the table. “Are your grandparents still alive?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m afraid they wouldn’t get along with your grandma, though,” Patton said pensively.

“How do you mean?” Roman furrowed his eyebrows.

“They’re just very old fashioned,” Patton said dismissively. “Would you like some orange juice? You’ve got to be a little hot from all the cooking,” Patton said, getting back up.

“Um, yeah, that sounds good,” Roman mumbled as he continued to stretch his legs under the table. Patton grabbed Roman a glass of orange juice before pulling out dishes to set the table. “Sorry for having you do all this stuff for me,” Roman apologized quietly.

“I offered, and I’m doing it because I want to,” Patton smiled and started setting out dishes. Roman sipped his orange juice and watched Patton as he set out the dishes. “Are you feeling less out of it?” He eyed Roman with interest.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Roman said, not realizing it until now. “Thanks, I think?”

“You came back yourself, there, champ. I just helped show you how,” Patton winked.

“Is hanging out in the grass and making dinner really how to do it?” Roman asked, leaning on his hands and tilting his head.

“You just needed some grounding. You’ve probably been thinking lots about the past and getting stuck there. Grass, sunshine, chatting, and making dinner just helped pull you back to the present,” Patton smiled softly.

“How do you know so much about this stuff? Aren’t you an animal doctor and not a people doctor?” Roman asked curiously, stroking the perspiration on the glass.

“I was in therapy for a long time, kiddo. It really helped me out when I was in a bad place. My therapist gave me lots of tools to help focus on the present and being a good person,” Patton said, leaning forward.

“Does it have something to do with why my grandmother wouldn’t like your grandparents?” Roman asked carefully.

“You’re a sharp kid. But you’ve got plenty on your plate right now. I think it’s better for you to focus on good things at the moment since you’ve been struggling lately. Like the enchilada abomination in the oven!” Patton chuckled, motioning to the oven.

“A-, uh, my grandmother-” Roman caught himself. “-would really like you. Maybe she’ll come to make fun of this freak feast on November first,” Roman smirked at the folly of man in the oven.

“Do you celebrate the day of the dead?” Patton perked up.

“She did. Mom kind of did. I’ve never really done it without her. Dad didn’t like it. I just think if anyone would visit, it would be her, I guess. I know it’s kind of dumb. Really dumb. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Roman mumbled and nervously fidgeted with his hands.

“Stop right there, kiddo. It’s not dumb. It’s okay to miss your grandma and hope she visits. Nobody else has the right to tell you your dumb for your beliefs, okay? If you want to set up something on November first, I’m happy to support you. Maybe Virgil wants to join. If I remember correctly his dad was from Mexico. Even if he doesn’t, there’s no harm in trying, just because it reminds you of her,” Patton reassured him. Roman nodded silently.

“Patton, will you be honest with me?” Roman asked after a pause, nervously picking at his nails.

“Of course I will,” Patton nodded and looked a little nervous, but smiled nonetheless.

“Would you rather have gotten someone else less fucked up? Are you just settling on me because it’s the nice thing to do?” Roman asked quietly.

“Roman, please don’t use the F word. I don’t like that language,” Patton frowned.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, dropping his head.

“I’m not settling on you, Roman. Thomas and I went going into this ready to love and support anyone who came to us. I think you’re a great kid and I think we get along just fine. I’m sorry if my emotional reactions scared you or made you think I didn’t think you were worth it. Sometimes it’s hard to deal with stuff that hits so close to home for me,” Patton admitted.

“You didn’t also sell drugs, did you?” Roman asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at Patton.

“No! No, I just didn’t have a great time with my grandparents and there wasn’t anybody to stand up for me,” Patton explained, shaking his hands. “I was upset about it not seeming like anybody ever stood up for you, because you keep blaming yourself for things that objectively don’t need blame taken for. I freaked out because in a million years I never expected to hear about a teenager making drug deliveries because his guardians refused to take care of him. Especially about such a sensitive kid like you who always tries to put other people’s feelings first,” He motioned to Roman.

“I, uh… sorry. But I started running for Jet at 12,” Roman muttered. Patton’s eyes widened and he kind of looked like he wanted to scream, but he didn’t move or make a sound. Roman still leaned away nervously. “Sorry. I was 13 when the Halls… uh,” Roman paused. Patton took a deep breath.

“If you want to say it, you can,” Patton said, taking a deep breath.

“This, um, maybe ‘hits close to home’,” Roman rubbed his arm. “Um, it was about wanting more money from us and it got so bad my caseworker was fired. Jet’s might have, too. I never called him to find out. I kinda took the excuse to cut ties. After things got bad he got bad, too. I don’t blame him or anything, but still…” Roman trailed off.

“Do you still have his number?” Patton asked curiously, looking less like he would scream, but now and much more sad.

“Um… yeah. Just in case I needed to make some fast money. It was a burner, so the number is probably long since disconnected from him. It’s more of a reminder now. I can’t bring myself to throw it away,” Roman admitted, not able to meet Patton’s eyes.

“As long as you’re not using it to hurt yourself, I suppose,” Patton muttered, not sounding like he actually believed what he said.

“Sure, I won’t give myself a paper cut with it or whatever,” Roman said, kind of baffled by the implications.

“No, I mean looking at it to remind yourself that in a time of desperation you did something you didn’t want to do and judge yourself harshly for your choices,” Patton explained.

“Uh, yeah,” Roman said meekly. Patton’s lips tightened, and he hummed suspiciously.

“When you’re a kid and you make bad choices, it’s important that you learn from them but you can’t hate yourself for them. When you’re young, you don’t have a lot of resources and you don’t have all the information. Parents are supposed to protect you from all that stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised Jet made it seem like it was harmless at first. He was older than you and offering help, so wanting to trust him was natural. Nobody was there to take you, or even Jet, out of that situation, and that wasn’t your fault. That was your guardian’s fault, full stop. You should never have been in that situation in the first place and you can’t blame yourself for what you did while trying to survive if you really were trying not to hurt people. And I can’t imagine you did, kiddo. I just don’t see it in you,” Patton said firmly, and Roman could barely take hearing it.

“Pat, dude, it’s not going to look good for you if I’m crying when Mr. Hartley gets here,” Roman joked while sniffling. He rubbed his eyes and put his head down on the table.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, but I think you needed to hear it,” Patton said. “Do you want…” Patton paused and Roman nodded into his arms on the table. Patton got up from the table and put his arm around Roman while he tried to pull himself together. The oven timer went off and Patton let go with after lightly rubbing his back to go pull the monstrosity out of the oven. Roman sipped his OJ and wiped the tears threatening to escape again. Virgil walked into the kitchen and looked oddly at Roman for a moment.

‘Smells awesome. But what the fuck?’ Virgil signed.

‘Patton was being an asshole,’ Roman signed back with a weak smirk.

‘I always knew it,’ Virgil side-eyed Patton facetiously. ‘Seriously, you okay?’

‘No,’ Roman signed and shrugged.

‘Valid,’ Virgil fingerspelled. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘An abomination unto god,’ Roman fingerspelled slowly. Virgil’s smirk widened into a mischievous grin.

‘I always wanted to eat an unholy abomination,’ Virgil signed back and sat at the table next to Roman.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain @croftersjam15 @ollyollyoxinfree

the taglist repository:

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#tsss #sanders sides #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #ayri writes #dreaming while i wake #roman angst #ts roman #ts patton #ts virgil #ts character thomas #depression #disassociation #food #dog #chapter fic #fanfiction

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certain-as-the-sun · 4 years ago

Text

Hey Jealousy

A High School-is AU. Inspired by the Gin Blossoms’ song of the same name. Contains: Alcohol Abuse, miscarriage, unwanted sexual touching.

Hey Jealousy

Tell me do you think it'd be all right If I could just crash here tonight You can see I'm in no shape for driving And anyway I've got no place to go And you know it might not be that bad You were the best I'd ever had If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago I might not be alone

It was a rainy night. Belle sat in her father’s house on the edge of town, far enough away that she got the peace and quiet she craved, but still close enough that running errands into town wouldn’t take all day. She sat in her favorite chair, a hot mug of tea steaming beside her. Her bookcase gleamed in the firelight, beckoning her to choose from her vast collection. Tonight was a night she didn’t want to dwell on. Five years ago her whole world changed. Her first love had been lost to her. Her true love if she still believed in fairy tales. They had been so good together. They had their lives figured out. She would finish school, open her bookshop and live happily ever after. Fate it seemed, was not as kind. The accident wasn’t Adam’s fault. He knew that, but it didn’t stop people from talking. Small town like theirs, it didn’t take long for word to spread about the group of teenage boys who took a joy ride that left one dead.

Adam never could hold his alcohol. He tried so many times to quit. Rehab, counseling. Through it all, there had been Belle. She was the one constant in his ever changing life. He was trying. He was trying to be who he needed to be, who Belle needed him to be. But there are some demons that are just too hard to get rid of. Orphaned at ten, bounced around from home to home. He was an angry young man, a temper that could explode at the smallest of things. He starting drinking at a young age, stealing what he could from his less than desirable foster parents. He fell in with the wild crowd. The kind of boys who stole cars, drank, partied hard. It landed him in a group home for at-risk boys.

He was adopted at sixteen by an older gay couple. Cogsworth and Lumiere could not have been more opposite in their manners and appearance. Cogsworth was portly and fussy. Lumiere was flamboyant and loud. Between them, they showered Adam with the love and acceptance he had so desperately needed. They got him into AA, helped him find a good sponsor, someone Adam could always call when and if he needed to talk to someone other than his dads. Hatter whose real name Adam never knew, had been a foster kid too, adopted as an older teen. Hatter understood the pressure Adam felt, the loneliness that came from a life spent apart. Between the three men loving Adam he was able to stay clean for over a year.

Belle was an only child to a widowed clockmaker. She was an honor student, on the fast track to the Ivy League. They met when Cogsworth signed Adam up for an English tutor. Cogsworth valued education and wanted Adam to improve so he could attend college and make something of himself. At first Adam and Belle wanted nothing to do with each other. He didn’t think he needed a tutor and not one as attractive as Belle was. His teenage brain envisioned her as the naughty librarian he had seen in dirty magazines. Acting on horrid advice from his friends, he was rude and demeaning. His efforts were rewarded with a slap and disgust. At home that evening, he sought out better advice. Cogsworth told the boy to write her an apology. Lumiere told him to bring her a rose. Hatter, the straight man in his life agreed that Adam had treated Belle poorly, asked him what he was going to do about it. Adam had to do better.

And better he did. He apologized, profusely. Belle wasn’t sure she could trust him. She knew who he hung around with. But they started spending time together. Little by little the real Adam shone through. Behind the tough as nails exterior he showed the world, he allowed Belle to see him. He could very kind to those in need. He organized toy drives for foster kids. Once at the store when the cloud let loose a deluge of water, he offered to pull her car up for an elderly woman so she wouldn’t get drenched to the bone.

He still had his temper. If his temper got the better of him, Belle wouldn’t stand for it. More times she left him where he was standing when he was losing it. He’d never hurt her but she wouldn’t take that chance. He scared her badly one night. They had been in his room and she had accidentally knocked over a framed photograph. The glass broke and damaged the photo. He roared with anger and before he realized what was happening he had tossed everything from his desk and slammed his fist into the wall. She ran from the room. In his angered haze, he heard her cries from the living room. He stopped thrashing and stepped into the hall. She was still there. Seated on the couch, his dads on either side of her. Cogsworth shook his head at his son.

Anger management with Hatter came next. He never wanted to see anyone he cared about be subject to his temper. He wrote Belle a letter, even mailed it. He never knew if she read it but she did forgive him.

The day of the accident started bad. His anniversary of sobriety was coming up. He would be two years clean. A milestone for any addict. It was little things piling up to big things. A memory of his parents, long gone from his life. A bad grade on a test he and Belle had studied so hard for. An argument between Adam and Cogsworth about grades and school. A misunderstanding between Lumiere. The anger simmered to a full boil. A temper flare from Adam had him storming out of the house. Deep in the back of his mind he knew what he had to do. He needed to call Hatter. Get his head on straight.

He could call Belle. But she was busy. She had an interview in the morning. An interview that could make or break her college plans. She didn’t need him distracting her. Maybe she would let him just sleep in her bed while she prepared. If he was with her, he could calm down and be able to go home and apologize. If he was with her he wouldn’t be able to do something stupid. Pausing over her contact, a text popped up.

Pre-game with boys. Don’t be a wuss.

He had been ducking texts like these for weeks. Gaston was from his old life. A life he didn’t want anymore. Gaston had been his best friend once upon a time. Before his dads. Before Hatter. Before Belle. Adam dropped Gaston soon after he began seeing Belle near constantly. Belle hated Gaston. She found his crass and chauvinistic behavior revolting. Rumor has it he had three kids with three different girls.

When he and Belle first started dating, he took her to a party that Gaston was throwing. He had taken over his parents cabin in the woods. Everyone from school was there, even people from other schools that had heard about the bash in the woods. Cars lined the dirt road leading up to the cabin. You could hear the party before you saw it. Belle, to put it plainly was not a party girl. Her idea of a Friday night was spent at the small bookstore on Main Street, browsing and putting books on layaway. Mrs. Potts, the owner kept a log of Belle’s books and would sometimes write off a few when she needed to. Belle was happiest when she and Adam had dinner together at the cafe next door to the bookstore and just took a walk in the park. But she agreed. Adam had been doing so well and she thought it was only fair that she share in his world when he spent so much time in hers.

Gaston saw them first. The feeling between Gaston and Belle was mutual. He blamed her for changing Adam from the guy he was to the guy he is. Behind her back he called her a bitch, a nag, killjoy. The tall, broad teenager with coal black hair strode up to them as they entered the house, a bottle of beer in his hand. He snapped his fingers at Kevin to get Adam a drink. He saw red when Belle took Adam’s hand and shook her head when the small portly boy offered them both bottles. He was going to take her down a peg or two.

It took some time but he finally got Adam and Belle separated. She had gotten tree sap on her hand when they had gone outside. She was expecting Adam to be waiting for her outside the bathroom when she came back out from washing her hands. But he wasn’t. He had gotten pulled into a conversation with Gaston’s latest blonde. She started towards him when Gaston got in her path.

“Never thought little miss perfect would grace us with her presence,” Gaston taunted. “Thought you were too good to hang out with the likes of us.” He leaned closer to her, pushing her back against the wall. “Not sure what my boy Adam sees in a frigid bitch like you.”

His breath reeked of stale beer, corn ships and tobacco. He ran his hand over her bare shoulder, she had lost her sweater somewhere. She tried to move out Gaston’s way but he caged her. “Gaston, please. Just leave us alone.”

“I want to know what kind of spell you got my boy under,” he said, his hand moving its way down her body, over her. Tears stung her eyes. Where was Adam? “Maybe if I get a taste, I might understand.”

“Stop it, please.”

Across the room Adam caught sight of his girlfriend. He pushed through the crowd of drinking people. Gaston had Belle pressed against the wall, his hands on her. Without thinking he charged at Gaston shoving him away from Belle.

“Get away from her!” Adam all but growled. He kept himself between Belle and Gaston, his fists balled. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“She came on to me man!” Gaston argued. “I told you. I warned you about her. She’s a bitch. You’re better off without her.”

“Adam let’s just go,” Belle said, putting her hand on his arm. “He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”

“Shut up, you stupid —“ Gaston didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Adam swung his fist forward and knocked his former best friend square in his jaw.

“You will not speak to my girlfriend like that ever again,” Adam said. He took Belle’s hand and they left. Alone in her car he held her close as she cried. No one had ever touched her like that before. Not even Adam. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’d never come if I thought that’s what he’d do. Please, I’m so sorry.”

Staring at the text, it was a siren’s call. If he was honest with himself, he did miss his friend. Hanging with he boys would be the easy choice. It would be so easy to just fall into a stupor with the boys. He wouldn’t have to think about anything else. Not school, not his dads, not even Hatter. He knew what he needed to do. The siren call was stronger. He wanted to go. He wanted to fall into oblivion. He could fall for one night and when the dust settled he would start over. That was the life an addict. He knew what he needed to do and did what he wanted. He made the easy choice.

Where you at? Three words. That’s all it took to ruin his life. Three words.

The ravine. And don’t bring that bitch.

Don’t call her that.

Three hours later Adam had fallen off the wagon hard. He had drunk two bottles of Stoli, his hard liquor of choice and finished off a six pack of a cheap beer Stanley brought. Once he started Adam couldn’t stop. He couldn't have just one drink. He would keep going until he couldn’t see straight. When Adam polished off what they others had brought they went to get more. Driving a town over and with Stanley’s fake ID and Cogsworth’s credit card, the boys loaded up with more. Two more bottles of Stoli down and Adam was drunker than he had been in his life.

Neither Adam or Gaston had any business driving. The only sober one among the boys that night was Kevin also known as LeFou. Kevin was Gaston’s lackey. The small, overweight, nerdy boy just wanted to be popular. He did Gaston’s homework, really anything Gaston wanted. He was in the backseat with Adam that night. Gaston sped down the road, the radio screaming profanity laced rock. Reckless and stupid. Empty bottles rolled around the back of the car. They were invincible. On top of the world. Until they weren’t.

No one was sure as to the exact nature of the accident that left one dead, two severely injured and one with minor cuts and scrapes. Kevin, the sweet boy who just wanted to belong was dead. Stanley walked away. Gaston had severe brain damage and would likely require twenty-four/seven care for the rest of his life. Adam broke his right collarbone, the three bones in his right arm, the femur of his right leg and had broken glass embedded in his face. Scars he would bear for the rest of his life.

Belle, Hatter and his dads sat constant vigil by his side while he recovered from surgery. His handsome face distorted and scarred from the accident. Mixed emotions filled Belle. Anger, betrayal, hurt, sadness. How could he do this? Interview or not, he could have called her. Should have called her. In fact, he had called her. Several times. The first time she answered. She heard the shouts and loud music in the background. In his slurred speech he told her how much he loved her and how he was sorry. She begged him to tell her where he was. She would come get him and take him home. Get him to Hatter and his dads. Get him sober again. He wouldn’t listen. After the calls ended, texts came through. At first they were from Adam. Drunken decelerations of love. Disjointed thoughts of an unclear mind. Then they changed. They called her names, demeaned her. She turned her phone off. Adam had to be beyond reason if he let Gaston talk to her in such a way.

Adam and Stanley had to be the ones to face the music when it came down to blame for the accident. They each took a lesser sentence, community service, mandatory rehab, counseling and they were expelled. Adam became the worst version of himself. Guilt over took him. He withdrew into himself, became bitter, letting his anger consume him. If he did speak to anyone, there was no kindness in his words. Belle stood by him, did her best to help him through the darkness. Her breaking point came during her second year of college. He had done well over the holidays. He was getting better. So when the stick said Pregnant she was able to think to the future again. They had taken their lives day by day for the last two years. She could see a glimmer of hope in their darkness.

Fate, cruel as always, laughed. He had been working at the grocery store when she came in. Gaston’s mother. Seeing Adam whole set her grief anew. He stood there unmoving as she berated him, blamed him for everything that happened that night. Her son wouldn’t do the things they had said about him. Adam was a dirty orphan who drug her son down with him. Management lead her away from him but the damage had been done. In a stupor he walked out of the store grabbing a bottle of his poison on the way out. He missed her calls. Ignored them. Ignored everyone as he drank himself stupid again.

Belle was done. She could only watch him destroy himself for so long. And losing her child was the final straw.

“I won’t sit by and watch you drink yourself to death,” she said. “I can’t do it anymore.”

The last time she saw Adam, he had passed out on her dorm room floor. The last she heard he’d voluntarily checked himself into an in patient clinic. Belle kept in contact with Lumiere and Cogsworth. They came to her graduation when her own father was too ill to make the drive. They stood by her when she lost her father. The two men rarely mentioned Adam except in passing. He was out of rehab. Seemed to be doing well. He was working. Stocking shelves at a big box store. Somewhere he didn’t have to see customers.

Belle sighed away the memories and stood up from her chair and took out her favorite book. A leather bound copy of Sense and Sensibility. Opening it at random, dried flowers fell from the pages. Tucked between another page was a yellowing piece of notebook paper. A letter. A letter from Adam in the Before.

My Belle,

It feels so great to be able to call you mine. I know I’m not the easiest guy you could be with. I’m so grateful that you are. As promised, I’m doing better. Learning to take a breath to settle my anger before speaking. I need to explain what happened. The photo in my room, was my mother. The only thing I managed to keep throughout my childhood and moves. I am so sorry that I lost my temper. It wasn't acceptable behavior and I know that. I am going to forever be working on myself, to be who you need me to be.

I love you, Belle. Don’t give up on me.

Yours always,

Adam

She slid the letter back into the book. That Adam was long gone. He had a way with words. One minute he was a master poet, extolling words of love and devotion. But there was the other side of the coin. His words, when used in anger could tear a person down and leave them shattered. But that was then. She was a different person now.

You can trust me not to think And not to sleep around If you don't expect too much from me You might not be let down Cause all I really want is to be with you Feeling like I matter too If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago I might be here with you

His shift was ending. He didn’t have anywhere to be. His dads had taken a cruise, trusting they could leave Adam home alone for the first time in years. He didn’t have many friends that he could call to see if they wanted to grab a bite. In fact not counting Hatter, he didn’t have anyone he could call anymore. He took out his phone to check the time. It was just after eight. Jack in the Box would still be open. He could go there, eat a cheap burger and fries and go home. He smiled sadly looking at the picture that was a perfect moment in time. Belle. Lumiere had taken the photo. Together on the tire swing in the backyard. They had been so happy. Back when she was still his. Back before everything went to hell.

He still had her number in his phone. He never called it. He was sure she’d hang up on him before he ever got a word spoken. That was if she hadn’t blocked his number altogether. There was so much he wanted to tell her. To apologize for. He loved her. Loved her enough that he would be okay if she never came back to him. Not that the sting of jealousy didn’t bite him in the ass when he saw her with someone else.

He had seen her from afar so many times over the years. She still called his dads when something good happened to her. They would always tell him if she was coming over or if they had talked to her. Adam never asked Cogsworth or Lumiere to say he was thinking of her. That he still loved her with all the passion he still had. He wouldn’t do that to her. Not again.

He found himself walking in the rain. After the accident, he never drove again. He wasn’t sure where he was going until he found himself outside her house. She was sitting in front of the fire reading, like she always did. Taking a breath, he walked away from the window and to the front door. He pressed the doorbell and waited.

Belle never imagined who would be on the other side of her door.

“Adam?”

“Belle.” No matter how many years passed by, Adam saying her name was enough to send shockwaves through her whole body.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I know if I hadn’t messed up that night, I wouldn’t be standing out here in the rain,” he said, his blue eyes staring at her. “There are so many things that I’ve done that I’m not proud of. Hurting you, driving you away will always be on the top of my list.”

“You really hurt me, Adam. How can I ever trust you again?”

He fished something out of his pocket. A bronze colored coin. Belle had seen the collection of sobriety coins Hatter had. Hatter was eighteen years sober. So often they just wanted to get Adam to thirty days. Thirty days. Then to ninety days. To a hundred and eighty. To one year. The bronze coin in his hand had a 2 stamped in the center of it.

“Two years, yesterday Belle,” he said. “730 days. Dad and Pop came to the meeting. Hatter actually cried.”

Two years. Belle tried to imagine Hatter crying. The thought made her giggle. She caught his eye and in an instant it was like they were seventeen again. He pulled her to him, expression nervous but hopeful as he waited for her to make the next move. Maybe it was too much to hope he would take her back so soon. But she had to know. Had to know there would never be another for him. She was it. He would spend the rest of his life making up for the last five years of hell he put them through. He needed and wanted her with every fiber of being. She must have seen it, weighed the consequences in her own mind. Seconds passed and her lips crashed into his, igniting a passion she had long buried. He walked her backwards into the house, kicking the door closed behind them. Between their increasingly fervent kisses, he was apologizing.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Maurice died,” he said as she pulled his wet coat from him. “I’m sorry for passing out in your yard.”

“Adam, if you list everything you’re sorry for, you’ll be here until Christmas.”

Christmas sounded good to Adam. He could spend a Christmas with Belle. A birthday with Belle. God, was this really happening? Was she really there? He had to be sure.

“Am I really here?” he whispered into her hair, holding her close to him.

“Yes, you’re really here. I’m here.” Belle traced the marks on his face.

“You can count on me now, Belle. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Prove it.”

A low chuckle escaped his throat as he kissed her again. He drank her in, every sight, every scent mixing with memories. Lifting her into his arms holding her close. He pressed her against the wall, his lips finding all the places that brought her pleasure. The places only he knew. Her legs wrapped around him, as if they had never been apart.

Her senses came back to her first. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t let him back into her life. She knew the risks and her heart could only break so many times.

“Wait, Adam. Stop. Put me down,” she said. With her feet on the ground, her head was coming out of the clouds.

“Belle? Aren’t you happy I’m back?”

“Oh, Adam,” she sighed. “I have wanted nothing but for you to be sober and happy. But I can’t be the root of your happiness. I won’t survive it again.”

He nodded. He’d heard this before, from his fathers, from Hatter. He expected it from Belle. She had been hurt the most by his actions. Because she could walk away.

“I understand Belle. I do. It will take more than just words and promises. Because I’ve said and done things that I am not proud of. I’ve hurt you. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I love you.”

He took out his phone, opening the notes app. Scrolling down he found a letter he had written to her during his final rehab stay. He began to read.

“My dearest Belle, there is nothing that I can say that will ever make up for my behavior. There is nothing I regret more. I lie here in my bed thinking about what — no not what — who we lost. Who they could have been if they’d had a better father. I will never forgive myself for walking away. Walking away from you, from what you meant — mean to me. I am so sorry that you were alone. I am sorry that my selfish wants overtook me when you needed me most. Nothing I can ever do will make up for that. In the worst moment of your — our lives, you were alone. And that is not right. It will never be right. And if you can ever forgive me, I will work forever to earn back your love and your trust. And even if you never can, knowing that I tried will be enough for me. I love you Belle. I love you enough to walk away if that’s what you want from me.”

He stopped reading and looked up at her. “What do you want Belle?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “You. Demons and all.”

#hey jealousy #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast fan fic #gin blossoms #inspired by music

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miracleboiz · 5 years ago

Text

Making a Home Ch 11

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 4k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

“I know for a fact that you’re not supposed to be here,” Aran said, barely glancing over at the pair of six year olds who had slipped through the doors of the gym. One of them shied away, looking over at the floor as his fingers curled in his friend’s shirt. The other just shrugged, messy black hair falling in his eyes.

“Hitoshi’s parents said they don’t care,” The boy said, pushing his hair back.

“Which is why I was talking to you.” Aran tossed the volleyball towards the middle schooler server and turned to face the two newcomers. “Rin-kun, your parents said you weren’t supposed to come here anymore because it’s too far from home.”

“My parents only said that because you asked them. They won’t be home until after ten anyways,” Rintaro shrugged, brushing his messy hair out of his face again. “If you call them they’ll say ‘Uh huh, mmm, that’s fine, Rintaro’s very mature for his age he knows how to get home… I have to get back to work’ and then hang up on you. Well… If you can actually get a hold of them.”

“You know I still have to call them though… Go sit with Lady and if they say no, I’m walking you back home.”

Rintaro hesitated for a moment before he glanced at Hitoshi’s rather worried stare drilling into Aran’s chest.

“Call my parents all you want… but don’t blame Hitoshi-kun, he hasn’t done anything wrong. His parents really don’t care, they’re gone by the time he gets home so they said as long as he’s home before curfew it’s fine. He didn’t do anything wrong.” Rintaro’s back seemed to crack with the force of him standing up straight, eyes like daggers waiting to strike if Aran seemed to turn against his friend in any way.

“I know. Hitoshi’s not in trouble Rintaro-kun. You’re the one disobeying your parents. I’m going to talk with them and see what they want to do, they’ll decide if you need to go home or not. Now, go sit with Lady.” Aran didn’t let his voice betray his true emotions, waiting until the two turned to make their way to the corner of the gym where Aran’s dog was watching the current game beside the open doors leading to the outside arena. Rintaro just looked vaguely annoyed, not that Aran could really blame him.

Suna Rintaro had been trying to sneak into the middle-schools after school clubs for a month now. Often dragging his best friend Ginjima Hitoshi along with him. Last week Aran had heard from the Kendo instructor that Rinataro had been found showing off perfectly executed moves to Hitoshi with a stolen bamboo sword. He’d been impressed enough he hadn’t actually punished Rintaro but he had been banned from the building with an offer to join them when he was actually in middle school.

The week before that Rintaro had been hauled out of the tea ceremony club for pointing out that the instructor had actually swapped three parts around. Hitoshi begging for his friend had been the only thing that had kept him from being marked for that one.

Each time his parents had been called and each time they had dismissed it, insisting Rintaro wouldn’t do it again and he was just bored. True though that was, it didn’t help that now Rintaro was trying to play volleyball when he was too young to have the proper muscles for it and had no formal training. When Aran had called when the black haired child first appeared with a volleyball in hand, his parents had finally seemed to take him seriously and ordered Rintaro home and said they didn’t want him anywhere near the middle school.

That had lasted only two days.

Aran kept his eye on the two, watching them take a seat beside Lady and stroke through her fur. He dialed the number he had and waited for them to answer while watching Hitoshi pick out grass from the dog’s fur.

True to Rintaro’s statement, his parents had completely forgotten about the talking they had given him and quickly insisted it was fine as long as Rintaro wasn’t getting into trouble. Which… Aran could admit Rintaro hadn’t actually done anything wrong, he simply happened to be where he shouldn’t. As long as Rintaro was careful and didn’t push himself or Hitoshi… Aran could survive letting them join in on some practices as long as his actual club wasn’t bothered, but he had a duty to make sure they were properly trained and didn’t hurt themselves and that came before teaching Rintaro and Hitoshi.

He hung up the phone with a quick thanks and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Yoshimoto! Keep your arms up, the ball won’t hit your face,” He called, the child squeaking out an agreement before he moved back into position to block again. “Nakamura, remember accuracy comes before power. If you can get it in between two players that’s better than blowing it out of bounds, but you’re doing good.”

He watched the game for a second longer before making his way towards Rinataro and Hitoshi who were now watching him with apprehension. He squatted next to them, reaching out to scratch Lady’s ears gently as the poodle yawned and laid her head on the floor.

“If you listen to me, I’ll let you two stay here and teach you how to play. But I don’t want either of you trying to keep up with them, got it? They’re almost twice your age and their bodies are stronger, you’ll get hurt if you try to push yourself.” He said, looking directly at Rintaro who quickly looked away before nodding. “I mean it. If you want to have fun, we can lower the net and teach you, but no trying to play with their weights or run ten miles.”

Rintaro shuddered, shaking his head quickly. Aran glanced over at Hitoshi to see him doing the same thing.

They were probably just bored out of their minds. They weren’t bothering anyone, so as long as they wanted to play Aran couldn’t turn them away. After all, it was never too early to learn the basics of the game.

“Good… Now c’mon, next time bring gym clothes,” He ordered, hustling them over towards the edge of the net. The libero was holding the ball hostage as Aran guided the much smaller children closer. Two more students were holding him down attempting to get the ball back and the shrieks of laughter echoed in the gym, Aran just shook his head fondly and whistled for their attention.

“Line up! These two are going to be joining us today, maybe more. So I expect you all to be on your best behavior and no wild moves,” Aran glanced over at Nakamura who immediately looked away, “they’re newbies so we’re going to be teaching them the rules okay?”

A series of cheers rose up from Aran’s club, excited about the prospect of getting an easier day for Friday. He shook his head with an internal laugh. If anyone had recommended an easy day to him when he was in middle school, he would have stared at them like they were crazy. How else would he become the best?

Now, though, looking at the sea of children moving forward to introduce themselves he couldn’t help but want to give them a little bit more fun before they started to think about careers and the rest of their lives.

“This is why you’re single,” Rintaro snapped after the final game ended and he was breathing heavy as he tried to drain the last few drops out of his bottle. Aran couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow, that wasn’t really an elementary kid thing to say, Rintaro shouldn’t have known he wasn’t married anyways.

“Oh? Because I spend every day chasing after kids like yourself who don’t know the meaning of rules or consequences?”

“I know rules!” Rintaro spun so quickly Aran was taken aback, neither of them noticed the bottle falling to the floor. “I don’t know what… con… the other thing is but I know what rules are. They’re stupid things adults make up so they don’t have to deal with me. Like that only older kids get to do things, or that I can’t bother my parents with questions, or that I’m supposed to be quiet when adults are talking. So what! I want to talk too! You don’t get to tell me anything!”

The fire in his eyes made Aran blink quickly, before Hitoshi was hurrying to Rintaro’s side and whispering in his ear. Instantly Rintaro’s ire slipped away and he dropped his head down.

“Please don’t be mad at him Ojiro-san,” Hitoshi bowed his back, smiling softly up at Aran. “He just repeats what his Okaa-san says, he doesn’t mean it. I’m sorry. He just… gets angry.”

“Sorry, Ojiro-san… I don’t know if you’re single… S’just what my Okaa-san says. Sorry.” Rintaro said again, his tone clipped and formal. Not for the first time, Aran wondered if his family came from old money or business or if they were truly that traditional that Rintaro wouldn’t use a more familial term.

“Consequences,” Aran started slowly as he leaned down to grab the bottle and press it back into his hand, “are what happens when you break rules or do something bad. You didn’t get in trouble when you stole the Kondo sword, being told to come back when you can join isn’t a punishment Rintaro-kun. Tanaka-san would have been well within his right to ban you even when you were old enough, but he didn’t. So you didn’t have any consequences, understand?”

Rintaro glanced up at him, taking the bottle quietly before slowly nodding.

“Yes sir… So… What are my con… conse… consecu… consequences for today?” Rintaro’s voice was drained, he looked far more tired than any six year old had any right to be. A flash of Osamu and Atsumu’s own faces made their way into Aran’s mind and his heart softened.

Part of him wanted an actual punishment for Rintaro, to show him that boundaries existed that his parents couldn’t weasel him out of. Keeping him from the court for a few days, or calling his homeroom teacher to walk him home personally, nothing too drastic but enough to show him that rules would be enforced, especially safety ones. However, Aran thought that Rintaro did understand that he would get in trouble for things. It just seemed the only way anyone other than Hitoshi paid attention to him was if he was in trouble, and the last thing Aran wanted to do was continue that cycle.

“You don’t get to hold onto Lady’s leash. Hitoshi? You wanted to walk her right? Go get her up.” Aran nodded over at the poodle who’s tail started to thump loudly. Hitoshi lit up, quickly running towards the dog whose tail only got faster while Rintaro’s face twisted into a pout.

“But Ojiro-san-” He started to whine only to stop, looking down again like he’d been properly chastised for once.

“Mmhmm, I’m walking you two home. So I know you,” Rintaro rolled his eyes at the comment, “actually go home. Rules aren’t for avoiding you Rintaro-kun. I don’t know about the ones for your parents, but the others are to look out for you. You see how sore your arms are? You only did a little bit of the work the other boys did. You have to work up to that, while your body’s getting stronger. Then, you can block all of them.”

Rintaro rocked back and forth, lips twisting into multiple increasingly dramatic pouts before finally settling on a hopeful look. Lady’s nose greeted Aran’s elbow as Hitoshi stepped up beside them, smiling brightly at them.

“You… think I can Ojiro-san?” Rintaro said slowly, one hand reaching out to pat at Lady’s snout. “Block other’s spikes?”

“Yes I do. But you have to train and be careful as your body gets stronger. Push it too hard and you won’t be able to play at all.” Aran straightened up, smiling down at the two. “Now come on, there’s a coffee shop around the corner. I can get you some hot chocolate to drink on the way home okay?”

“I’m just saying- Fuck, Iwaizumi, don’t kill me- that if this was back before I left the country then it would be a different story.” Aran stared at the two extra twenty-five pound weights Iwaizumi was carrying over. “If you don’t want to listen to me complain, you could have just told me to shut up.”

Iwaizumi laughed, the personal trainer rolling his eyes as he slid the weights onto the bar. He hooked them into place before moving behind Aran to spot him as Aran laid back on the work out bench and grasped the bar.

“C’mon, you said you wanted to work your shoulder up to where it was. You’ve been slacking on it, your physical therapist called me the other night. Shoulda told you that Ennoshita knows me personally from our college days. Now, tell me again who this about…. Kita? Right?” He asked, tapping Aran’s shoulder to tell him to move. Aran shot him a glower that was met with a smooth eyebrow before he started to lift the bar.

“Yeah Kita… We went to highschool together… He was my volleyball captain, though he wasn’t on the court much. Don’t think he ever flubbed a receive or a serve though…” Aran grunted as he pushed the bar up and pulled it back down to his chest. “We were really close in highschool and then out of it… till I went out of the country three years ago...well actually more like six… I was… I mean…”

Hajime nodded understandingly, hands ready to grab the bar if Aran started to shake.

“I realized I was in love with him at the end of highschool but I was going to the other end of the country to join a team… We talked constantly and then we… grew apart. He was taking over his parent’s old business when his aunt passed away and I was going out of the country constantly to play games. Then I got recruited to actually join outside of the country… I’m pretty sure this constitutes as inhumane torture.” Aran groaned as he finished his first rep and put the bar back down. Iwaizumi just looked amused as he patted his shoulder.

“All torture is inhumane, but I never said I was humane. Now come on, do your shoulder stretches, tell me if anything hurts.” Iwaizumi hummed, nodding along as Aran stood and moved to the corner wall so he could lean on it as he stretched. He pressed a palm flat against the wall, leaning forward until his chest pressed against the corner and started to slowly walk his arm up the wall.

“My ego hurts.”

“Oh so I’m doing my job then.” Iwaizumi laughed, turning away to add more weights to the bar for squats. “Keep going, I’m actually really interested in how this ends. My boyfriend had a similar issue, but he just screamed that he loved me every time we video chatted so it ended up working out.”

“Oh… I’m pretty sure Shinsuke would have my head… or call a doctor. It sounds like something Michinari would do to be honest.” Aran grunted as his arm reached the furthest point and he held it still. “Anyways, we went from seeing each other every month or so and talking multiple times a week to… seeing each other once a year for the team reunion… Then I got injured blah, blah, and came home and realized… Is it stupid? Am I stupid for still being in love with him.”

He let his arm fall, giving himself a few seconds to breathe before moving to the now benchless workout set. He slid under the bar, letting it settle on his shoulders before straightening and stepping back.

“Like… It’s been six years since I could say I really knew him… He’s changed, I could see that just the other night… Not dramatically, but he’s… softer. Before he was all hard edges and brutal honesty which was great it was him, but it’s tempered… he’s still him but he’s different. And… I know I’m an idiot but I’m still in love with him… But it’s been so long since we were close, can I even call that love at this point? Or am I just… pining after a past long gone?”

“Hmm,” Iwaizumi’s voice nearly made him jump, but he sounded like he was genuinely thinking it over. “I would say… you’re still in love with the guy you knew but now it’s time to find out if you can fall in love with the guy he is. You’re already halfway there, you know he’s different and you still sound just as gay as my boyfriend. You’ll be fine.”

“I mentioned he has kids right?”

Iwaizumi froze before relaxing with a soft snort.

“No, no you didn’t. But honestly that’s hilarious, you love kids and now your dream guy comes with them. Who did you say this was again? Kita… Shin… Shinsuke? I think I know him. Well, I know a Shinsuke and he just started fostering kids.”

“Do you just know everyone in town?” Aran snorted, pulling out of a squat as Iwaizumi shrugged.

“Basically, when you meet my boyfriend you’ll understand. Or when he meets you, he’ll be the one with stupid hair shaking Shinsuke and screaming while pointing at you.” Iwaizumi laughed, but his eyes were filled with affection and the curve of his lips couldn’t quite lose the smile.

“You always call him, ‘my boyfriend’ and never by his name… Is there a reason or are we not close enough friends for that?”

“I’ve been torturing you for nearly half a year, I think we’re good enough friends… though don’t tell my other clients. It’s only because you work with me… I call him that because his name is pretty well known and he doesn't like the publicity as much anymore. Once you see him you’ll know instantly who he is, but until then it’s up to him to open that can of worms. But if you know Shinsuke you’ll probably meet him pretty soon.” Iwaizumi said cryptically and Aran wondered if he just had a bad habit of only making friends with the weird kids.

“Yeah sure… Ah, can you grab my phone?” Aran asked as the familiar ringtone played through the empty weight room. Iwaizumi quirked an eyebrow but moved over to the water bottle to grab it and tossed it over as Aran slipped out from under the bar.

Shinsuke-kun

The contact informed him, an old photo of Shinsuke pressed between the four old teammates taking over his screen. Aran glanced up at Iwaizumi who shrugged.

“It counts as your break.” Was all the trainer said before he moved to wipe down the wall and the bar.

Aran rolled his eyes back at him, stepping to the side and answering.

“Aran.” Shinsuke greeted and Aran knew he looked like a fool smiling into his phone. He couldn’t help it. He’d missed his best friend, crush or not he’d been way too alone especially after Oikawa had retired early two years ago after his friend’s sister died and left him with a kid and Oikawa came home to help.

“Shinsuke.” Aran hummed back, listening to the sounds of the twins arguing in the back.

“Am I interrupting you? I probably should have texted.”

“Oh? No no, it’s perfectly fine. You’re perfectly fine. I really don’t mind you calling at all.” Aran made a horrified face to the wall as he stumbled over the simple words. This was ridiculous, it was a phone call not an audition.

“Oh… That’s good. Sorry… Osamu, stop putting the controller in your brother’s pants… No that doesn’t mean put the bag of crackers in there either. I will take away the controller… thank you. Don’t be rude to your brother…. Sorry the boys have finally decided they’re allowed to play with each other and apparently Osamu’s the sneaky one- Osamu! Where did you even get the chopsticks? Go put them away and sit on the armchair, no more minecraft until you apologize to your brother-without laughing. Yeah, shoo… In the sink Osamu they were in your brother’s hair, little one, they need washing… Well that was a mistake.” Shinsuke sighed, but it was endlessly fond even softer than when Akagi was going wild.

Aran could hear Osamu singing about dirty hair in the background before Shinsuke finally ordered him to the chair again. Shinsuke’s voice didn’t change though, he didn’t sound angry or annoyed and Aran couldn’t help but be impressed at his control. They needed discipline but not anger, and Shinsuke was able to do so without panicking them. He should introduce him to Rintaro.

“Sorry, I thought they were distracted but apparently Osamu was just waiting for me to turn away.”

“Don’t apologize, I don’t mind. They’re kids, they’re going to disobey sometimes. Besides, they’re sweet.” Aran soothed the hint of worry in Shinsuke’s tone, grateful that even after all these years he still knew the intricate sounds of Shinsuke’s tones.

“I’m glad you think so...I was going to ask…” There was a strange hesitance to his voice, it pitched just a little sweeter into something Aran couldn’t quite identify. “Did you want to come over for dinner tonight? I have a roast slow cooking so it should be done around seven or eight… I’d like to see you again.”

Aran’s heart froze and jumped into his throat at the exact same time. He was way too gay for this. Slowly he nodded his head before realizing Shinsuke couldn’t see him.

“Yeah of course, I’d love to! Uh… I do have to walk Lady, my dog, at eight. So I might be a little late, she doesn’t like changes to her routine.”

“You have a dog?” Shinsuke was surprised but Aran couldn’t blame him. He didn’t really talk about Lady much, keeping more private information close.

“Yes, a poodle. Got her when I was overseas.”

“Ah…” There was a hearty pause and Aran half expected to hear Atsumu screaming about chopsticks in his hair again before Shinsuke returned. “Is she good with kids?”

“....Kita Shinsuke are you trying to get me to bring my dog over so you can meet her?” Aran let out a warm laugh, mentally seeing Shinsuke’s reddening cheeks. He had forgotten how much Shinsuke loved dogs, having never got one in case his Grandmother moved in with him.

“... Yes.” Shinsuke said a heartbeat later, not a hint of shame in his voice. “I haven’t played with a dog in far too long.”

“Alright, I’ll bring Lady over. She’s great with kids, but she probably won’t do much but lay down until she gets used to your place.”

“Then you can bring her over often.” Shinsuke said quickly and Aran snorted again.

“Are you actually interested in me or the dog?”

“Well… I suppose you’ll have to come over and find out.” If it had been anyone else, Aran would have said Shinsuke sounded flirty. That couldn’t be right though, Shinsuke didn’t flirt. Right? Aran couldn’t be that lucky.

“I guess I will… Iwaizumi is glaring at me, I have to go… I’ll see you tonight then?” Aran asked softly.

“I’ll see you tonight… Atsumu do not destroy his minecraft house,” Shinsuke’s voice faded as the call ended but Aran swore he could hear a smile in his voice.

His own heart warmed at the quiet noises from the twins before the phone went silent. Shinsuke really started his own family, no matter what he said Aran knew he was keeping the boys. Shinsuke was far too attached to them already. Aran supposed that just meant that he had three hearts to win over instead of just one.

He turned back to Iwaizumi.

“I’m pathetically in love already. If he doesn’t adopt the boys I will and I haven’t even known them a week.”

“Write a book, you might get a tear from me.” Iwaizumi laughed, patting the weights next to him. “Let’s keep going before you melt into a puddle of feelings.”

#Haikyuu!!#HQ #Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #Kita Shinsuke #Arankita #Inarizaki #fluff #fanfiction #Making a home AU

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joemerl · 4 years ago

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Julycanthropy, Day 25: “Within”

Beginning — Previous — Tag

“Am I interrupting something?”

Vinh jumped to see a man coming up behind him. He was about as tall as Hector, but skinny, with brown hair that was neatly swept back. His button-down shirt, dark blue tie and horn-rimmed glasses made him look very incongruous, stepping out of the trees into the cluttered clearing with its shabbier inhabitants.

“Ah. Finally, the professional has arrived,” Hector said, rising to his feet. “Look at you, you piece of shit. Did you even change last night?”

Vinh blinked in surprise, but the man smiled.

“I did, actually. Then afterwards I combed my hair. You should try it.”

Hector snorted, then turned to Vinh.

“This is the kid. Vinny, say hello to ‘Dr. Brady.’ He’s a therapist at the werewolf center you’ll be staying at.”

Dr. Brady smiled, extending his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Vinny.”

Vinh looked away, face burning as he rose to his feet. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of Hector’s oversized jeans.

“It’s Vinh, not Vinny.”

Dr. Brady lowered his hand without looking the least bit perturbed. “That’s what you preferred to be called?”

“It’s my name. I mean—it’s Vietnamese. Not short for anything.” His tone shifted from surliness to resigned exasperation, as though he had explained this many times before in his life.

Mr. Brady chuckled.

“Ah. I can relate. Tell you what, Vinh, until we get to the lycanthropy center you can just call me ‘Geoffrey.’ That’s with a G-E-O at the beginning, ‘e’ before the ‘y’ at the end.”

Vinh started. Hector sighed, clasping his friend on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I was actually just telling him how we met,” he drawled. Geoffrey looked surprised. “This little asshole was thinking about going wild.”

“No I wasn’t,” Vinh said quickly. He looked down at his bare feet. “I—I said that, but I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t going to, even if…”

He refused to look at Geoffrey’s face, but when the man spoke his voice was soft.

“No need to be upset, Vinh. Whether you meant it or not, I’m glad you realize it was a mistake to say. Now, are you ready to go?”

No, Vinh thought. He was ready to get far away from Hector, but not to go anywhere that Geoffrey planned to bring him.

“I guess.”

“Good. But first, Hector—I have a bit of news that you need to hear.”

Vinh finally looked up. The two adults drew closer to the doorstep of the cabin. Geoffrey was whispering something. Hector’s face was impassive.

Several thoughts passed through Vinh’s mind. What was Geoffrey doing here? How the hell could he act so buddy-buddy with his former kidnapper? He looked so calm, but just from hearing the story Vinh wanted to run up to Hector and kick him in the crotch. It almost seemed worth the beating that Hector could surely give him in retaliation.

But Geoffrey himself was an enigma; he would have never put this guy together with the one from Hector’s story. This man didn’t look like an abused kid. He didn’t like someone who could stab someone in the eye, either. He looked like—well, a guidance counselor. Vinh hadn’t even realized that he was a werewolf until Hector had mentioned it.

He kind of scolded himself for that. Werewolves could look like anyone, after all—they were just normal people when they weren’t transformed. He was a werewolf, after all, though it still felt weird to remember. Honestly, looking at Geoffrey made Vinh feel even worse about that; the guy was so calm and put-together while he felt like a wreck.

He tried to hear what Geoffrey was saying, but all he heard was Hector’s response.

“Good, good. And you tell him I said that.”

“I could arrange for you to tell him yourself,” Geoffrey murmured as they headed back towards Vinh.

“Yeah, I know when to let a professional handle things. And speaking of which. I got one more thing to say to you, kid.”

Hector picked up what he’d been carving before sauntering over. Vinh scowled and took a step back.

Unperturbed, Hector held out the piece of wood. Vinh kept glaring at his face, then looked down when curiosity overcame him.

Carved into the wood was the outline of a werewolf—a rougarou standing on its hind legs, head up as though howling to the sky. Inside of it, however, was a second figure, a human-shaped outline that was gazing up in the same direction.

“You know what this is, Vinny?”

“A werewolf that just ate somebody?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Look, kid. You got a monster inside you. You didn’t choose that, and there’s nothing you can do to get rid of it. But see Geoffrey over there?” He nodded at his friend, and Vinh couldn’t help but look back at him. “The same’s true for him. I’m the only one here dumb enough to have put it there on purpose.

“Here’s something that you’re gonna hear a lot during your stay in rehab: it’s what’s inside that counts. I’m not talking about the wolf. You feel bad for hurting your foster mom? You should. Good people feel bad when they do bad things. And you know what? That good person is still inside you when you change into a wolf, same way that the wolf is inside you now. So keep focusing on that, until Vinh the Good Person is so strong that he can keep the monster from doing any more bad things.”

He shoved the carving into Vinh’s chest. He took it, then resisted the urge to throw it back in Hector’s face.

“Excellent advice,” Geoffrey said. “If only you could follow it yourself, eh?”

Hector waved them off, already heading for the cabin.

“Sorry I couldn’t do a garwalf,” he added. “Couldn’t really figure out how to make the human look right when the wolf's on all fours. Anyway. Keep the clothes, unless Geoffrey wants to bring them back sometime. And good luck. Not that I think you’ll need it.”

#Werewolf #Werewolves #Julycanthropy #Julycanthropy2020 #Julycanthropy 2020 #Lycanthropy #Lycanthrope #JoeMerl's Julycanthropy 2020 story

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makeste · 5 years ago

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on AFO and his intentions regarding his “heir”

I was going to do another big post responding to comments and asks and such, but then I ended up getting sidetracked by the very first pair of comments. so for now it’s just this. sorry ;;

@addermoray I think we do agree on a lot of stuff regarding AFO, but I think the main difference is that all of my AFO speculation hinges on the idea that he is eventually going to recover his full strength. Tomura is and has always been his pawn whom he planned on using to fuck with All Might. but an actual successor? idk, I could be completely wrong about this, but despite what he says, I just can’t see AFO voluntarily just giving up and passing on the torch for real.

first of all I don’t buy his diminished-quality-of-life argument. the dude is functionally immortal and has been around for like 200 years. he’s not going to call it quits after only six. not when he knows better than anyone the infinite variety of quirks out there, and that in all likelihood he can eventually find one capable of healing him. (and in fact, Ujiko will likely be getting his hands on the quirk-be-gone bullets shortly, so it probably won’t be long before he discovers what we already know about Eri’s quirk and its potential to restore AFO to full power.) and for that matter, not when he was still capable of fighting All Might at that level in Kamino. he’s clearly a far cry from done just yet, no matter what he says.

second, he’s also far too arrogant and self-serving to bequeath his legacy to anyone else. he views the world as being his for the taking. why would he give that up and let some dumb kid have all the fun instead? but what would be fun would be thoroughly warping and twisting that kid into his tool, and then unleashing him on an unsuspecting world for a while. that would be a lot of fun. but as a temporary thing, not as the new status quo. there is an inherent ‘this is bigger than I am’ type of wisdom in passing something down from yourself to someone else. an understanding that it continues beyond you. and I just can’t see someone like AFO being able to grasp that. it literally runs counter to his very name. one, not two. not him and Tomura. just him. he is, thematically, the complete antithesis of All Might and the other users of One for All. everything he does is ultimately for him and him alone. in the end it’s always for himself.

so I think the whole Tomura thing is just another example of that. Tomura is his little wind-up killing puppet. he gave him his own name not to pass on his legacy, but to label Tomura as his. so that in the end he can lay claim to all the havoc Tomura wreaks. I think we agree on that part. but I just think that once the dust settles and All Might is dead, he intends to step back in and get back to ruling the world from the shadows.

-- which, incidentally, is another reason I don’t think he’s serious about Tomura succeeding him; he knows Tomura well enough to realize that his damaged psyche will incline him more in the direction of simply destroying the world rather than taking it over. and AFO spent two whole centuries accumulating power and “restoring order” to the world. would he really just surrender all of that and let some brat destroy it all on a whim? that doesn’t seem to jive with the guy we saw in chapter 193 at all. I very much got the impression that that guy liked the world. because it was his. his own vast curated collection of quirks and loyal followers. all for him.

so yeah, my read on it is that he’s planning a comeback. I think it lines up with what we’ve seen of his personality, and it makes thematic sense as well -- more than ever after this latest arc, I can’t see Tomura being the final villain. it has to be All for One. he’s the Emperor Palpatine, whereas Tomura has always been more of a Kylo Ren.

anyway I kind of did the whole tangent thing yet again, so let me try to address a few last points real quick. regarding what AFO was hoping for when he got locked up: I think it’s important to remember that regardless of how comfortable he seems with his situation, prison wasn’t ever AFO’s plan A. he’s very good at adapting, and I think he’s made arrangements for Tomura’s “training” to continue even while he’s behind bars (again, gotta have those contingencies), but what happened at Kamino was unexpected. originally he intended to be there to keep an eye on all of this. the fact that he isn’t opens the door to other things also not going quite as planned. you’re probably right, I think, about AFO intending for Tomura to go through this training and character development process to some degree. he’d probably be delighted to hear that Tomura destroyed the hands and no longer appears to need them in order to sustain his anger. but at the same time I think there are things in play that AFO is not aware of and not anticipating. the influence of the rest of the League being one of those factors.

and I also think he’s underestimating how much of a wild card Tomura might be now that he finally has his memories back. the hope is that he goes through this leveling up process and in the end becomes stronger and focuses up and finally becomes dangerous enough to be a real threat to All Might and the rest. but the tradeoff is that when you purposely foster an agent of chaos, if you do your job right, eventually said agent will become impossible for even you to control. in other words, Tomura has agency now that he lacked before. and AFO -- who has already screwed himself over with his own arrogance in the past more than once -- might have just done so again without realizing it.

lastly, as for whether or not he actually planned what happened to Tenko, that’s the million dollar question. right now it seems like it could go either way. but as I’ve said, the whole thing just played out a little too perfectly from AFO’s perspective for me to believe he didn’t have a hand in it. he may have lucked out with some things, like Kotaro’s whole being-terrible thing, but he might also have helped fan those flames in subtle ways. and if nothing else, he probably had contingency plans if this didn’t pan out.

but as it happens, it played out even better than he expected. and at the end of the day it probably wasn’t too hard to predict that if he suddenly gave an abused kid a quirk that instantly destroyed anything and anyone he touched, it was bound to end in tragedy. that’s really the most sinister thing about the whole plan, in hindsight. how shockingly simple it all was. he probably thinks it was very elegant. masterpiece, indeed.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #shigaraki tomura #all for one #makeste reads bnha #asks #bnha meta #tomura meta

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