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the-teapot-hatter · 2 years ago

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Hello! I saw your harem au prompt where the guys fall in live with a raccoon-like mc, and I was wondering if I could request something with it? Although I'm not entirely sure if requests are open, so please feel free to ignore this if they aren't. 🖤

Maybe the raccoon-like mc is a raccoon beastman of sorts and they originated from the slums (like Ruggie) and they have a habit of going through the trash because of their poverty- and suddenly they're in the presence of nobles, knights, and royalty who vie for their attention... which gives them ample opportunity to go through all of their trash.

Maybe you could write something along those lines with Ruggie, Floyd, and whomever else you'd wanna include? If that's okay? (Perferably gn or male reader) please and thank you! 🖤🖤🖤

Of course! Just for clarification on the requests, my requests are always open, unless I say otherwise. ^^

As I'm currently writing this, I don't know how long it took me to get back to this (me being me, I decided to do an absurd amount of research on raccoons for the prompt) but hopefully it didn't take to long. Also, I hope that I wrote what you were looking for anon, but if it wasn't, feel free to let me know and I'll try and give it another shot!

This is written for Male!Readers, if anyone would like to request the prompt with a Female!Reader, you are always welcome to, but the reader in this uses He/him pronouns.

Also, the three thieves mentioned in Ruggie's part are all one of the Twst boys. See if you can guess who the other two are!

| Floyd |

(Y/n) really didn't know what he was doing here. At all.

Well, actually he did. His gaze traveling over towards the rather tall man, who (Y/n) wasn't entirely sure was human (not that he had any right to judge), who was lugging around Grimm as if the tiny monster was the man's personal squeeze toy. (Y/n) was more than a little annoyed, though that annoyance wasn't just directed at the tall man before him.

Lately a strange group of people have been lingering around him. Insistent on their advances. Startling enough, most of them were of noble birth, which was a problem for (Y/n). That meant the guards hanged around him more often. Which means he didn't have nearly as many opportunities to go looking for more things for his...collection as of the past few days. ((Y/n) didn't see the big deal, obviously people threw it away because they didn't want it, what was wrong with him taking it?)

Then there was the most troublesome. Where cases like these turned up. Where he was dragged around by said noble, to do only what the Stars themselves knew. Not to say that (Y/n) hadn't tried to turn the man down, he did. As he always so vehemently rejected all the others, but then this man, Floyd he had called himself, took Grimm of all things!

Grimm was rightfully his! (Y/n) had found him in the trash, and took him home with him. Sometimes, Grimm insisted that the relationship was the other way around, but it still stood. Grimm was not to be taken from (Y/n) and yet this man did it. And he dragged Grimm, and by extension (Y/n), all the way to his mansion.

Walking back home wouldn't be pleasant. And (Y/n) refused to do so without Grimm in his hands.

"Lord Floyd, I must insistent once more that you give Grimm back. He is not some item that you can take as you please!" (Y/n) insisted. (Once again, a statement that was more than a little hypocritical.) Floyd looked over at him, appearing just as annoyed as (Y/n) was, but he failed to see why the tall man could possibly be annoyed.

"But then you'll just leave Shrimpy." Floyd whined, much like a child not getting his way. And there was that strange nickname Floyd had for him. Something (Y/n) choose to ignore once he noticed that Floyd gave strange names to everyone, so there wasn't any point in arguing with it.

"Obviously, I was never planning on coming here. Me and Grimm had plans today. Ones that you ruined, Lord Floyd." (Y/n) huffed, his ears flicking about in agitation.

"Digging around in the trash aren't plans Shrimpy." Just before (Y/n) could even argue with Floyd, the tall man seemed to perk up, an idea flashing across his eyes that (Y/n) wasn't privy to. "But if that's what you want to do, I got just the place!!" Floyd harshly grabbed onto (Y/n)'s own arm and began dragging him around.

The grip didn't hurt, but it didn't leave any room for (Y/n) to fight back against it. Instead, simply having to put up with the action. Just another reason as to why (Y/n) was sure the man before him wasn't human.

In the end, despite what Floyd had said to him mere moments ago, Floyd had dragged him out way back from the mansion, to a dumpster. (Y/n) couldn't help it when his ears perked up in interest. Something Floyd definitely noticed, considering his predatory grin that seemed to stretch across his lips.

"Feel free to rummage around there all you like! You can even live in there if you want to!!" Floyd cheered, his words non-the-compliment like he assumed they were, as the tall man more-or-less threw Grimm at (Y/n). Hastily, (Y/n) moved to catch Grimm, mindful of his unretractable claws. He didn't want to accidentally harm Grimm.

"My home is perfectly up to standard, Lord Floyd! I'm not going to live in your dumpster!" (Y/n) huffed, setting Grimm down as the little monster began to struggle against him. Only for Grimm to jump into the dumpster himself.

"C'mon, (Y/n)! There's bound to be some good stuff in here!!" Grimm cheered, before poking his little head out to glare at Floyd. "We're keeping anything we find in here!!" (Y/n) grimaced. There was a reason he avoided digging around through nobles trash, and he certainly didn't do it when said noble was watching!!

"Of course Baby Seal, it was the reason I brought you back here after all!" The Floyd's facial expression turned dangerous. "But you shouldn't try and steal anything else." Another thing (Y/n) had to watch out for, it was a habit that he was trying to teach out of Grimm. Unfortunately, it seems Floyd's noticed. Then, Floyd turned to (Y/n), his expression not nearly as dangerous. "Well, what are you waiting for Shrimpy?"

Before (Y/n) could say anything, Floyd grabbed onto his waist and threw them both into the dumpster. Laughing the whole way. Was this any way for a noble to behave?

"Watch where you're landing, bozo!!" Grimm snapped. But Floyd just laughed at him, deciding to tease the small monster. Sighing to themselves, (Y/n) began digging around. While Floyd was distracted by Grimm, maybe (Y/n) could find something useful.

Of course, in the end he didn't. Instead finding used teabags, strange food that they've never seen before, and clearly expensive cutlery and jewels. Like he said, utterly useless. The only thing that had any value, though (Y/n) personally wasn't a fan, was the used manastones. Grimm sometimes liked to use them as snacks, and sometimes (Y/n) could use them to repair some things around town if he was careful about it. With this in mind, he began to collect those.

"Do you like manastones, Shrimpy? I can get you way more of those!" Floyd chirped, grinning at (Y/n) in a way he has come to decide he didn't like.

"Not really. But Grimm likes eating the used ones sometimes." (Y/n) didn't mention what he did for a living. Having a feeling that Floyd would suddenly start 'coincidentally' showing up, if he did.

"Really Baby Seal? Those can't taste all that great! I can make you a real good meal! And you can use my dumpster!" Floyd tried again with his sells pitch. (Y/n) cut Grimm off, knowing if the monster agreed before thinking, leaving would be much more difficult.

"We have a perfectly good home, Lord Floyd." (Y/n) commented. Floyd frowned at him, seemingly offended by (Y/n)'s comment.

"I'm sure my dumpster is way better than the one you're living in!" Floyd huffed. (Y/n) paused, their tail puffing up in anger as they turned to glare at Floyd. Who was he to suggest that (Y/n) lived in a dumpster!

"I. Live. In. A. House." (Y/n) stressed. "Just because it's old doesn't mean it's a dump." (Y/n)'s words had an unusual affect on Floyd, seeing as the tall man perked up for some inconceivable reason.

"You live in an actual house!?" Floyd's grin was manaic. "Where do you live? I'll make sure to stop by sometime." (Y/n) didn't doubt Floyd's words, regretting letting Floyd have this information. But seriously, he thought (Y/n) lived in an actual dumpster!?

"It's way out of town. Far out. You'd probably get lost, so there's really no need Lord Floyd." (Y/n) insisted. However, Floyd's grin was persistent, not once falling.

"Ah, c'mon Shrimpy~ That's an easy fix. You can just show me your home when I drop you off today." Floyd chirped. "And don't you think I should get some compensation for letting you dig around my dumpster?" (Y/n) knew not to trust the man.

| Ruggie |

(Y/n) was diligently ignoring the man that was laughing outside of his dumpster as (Y/n) dug through it along with Grimm. (Y/n) was more than a little annoyed with him.

He dragged (Y/n) around while he was running away from a bunch of guardsmen! (Y/n) would be lucky if he wasn't seen, let alone arrested when he goes back home. But this is what (Y/n) gets for knowing a thief. Though (Y/n) supposes he actually knows three thieves, all at varying degrees of troublesome.

"Shehehehe! I didn't think it would work you up this much." (Y/n) frowned, before turning to Ruggie with his claws on full display, making it clear he could swipe at him. But this just made the hyena beastmen laugh even more, somehow enthralled by (Y/n)'s actions. So, he just went back to ignoring the hysterically laughing man.

Not to mention, Ruggie actually had a bountiful of useful items, an itch settling on the back of (Y/n)'s mind to just take it. And considering Ruggie was a thief, he had no right to judge (Y/n)'s current actions. Grimm wasn't nearly as enthused, but the small monster had always found digging around nobles trash more interesting. So it wasn't surprising Grimm wasn't as enthusiastic as (Y/n) was.

Ruggie leaned over his dumpster to stare at both (Y/n) and Grimm, a wide smile on his face.

"You can always stay here if you like my trash so much." Ruggie joked. At least, (Y/n) hoped he was joking, not that he would be taking Ruggie up on his offer either way.

"I don't need to give the guardsmen further reason to arrest me. No thank you." (Y/n) commented, swatting at Ruggie with his tail in a way to shoo the Hyena away, but this just seemed to amuse the hyena even further.

"You're far from innocent." Ruggie remarked, gesturing towards (Y/n)'s current actions. Before (Y/n) could defend himself, a high pitched voice began to yell, calling out to the hyena before him.

"Ruggie! The stove's broken! What are we going to do for supper?" A tiny little girl, that was also a hyena beastmen, run out from Ruggie's house, grabbing onto the aforementioned hyena. (Y/n) blinked at the little girl, and the little girl blinked at him. Before they both decided to ignore one another.

"I'll check it out and see if there's anything I can do for it, but I might have to go out again." And with those words, Ruggie and the little girl were gone. Leaving (Y/n) to steam in silence, an unwelcome itch niggling at the back of his mind.

He could probably fix it, he did enough odd jobs here and there to pick up more than a few things. But did he want to help the person that kidnapped him? No, not really. Even if Ruggie wasn't a violent kidnapper and was letting (Y/n) go through his trash, he was still a kidnapper. No, that wasn't the question. The actual question was if he wanted a little girl to potentially go hungry?

With a glance a Grimm, (Y/n) had made up his mind. He didn't like the thought of anyone going hungry. Especially not with the state he had found Grimm in. Sighing to himself, (Y/n) hauled himself out of the dumpster.

"C'mon Grimm, let's go help them with their stove." (Y/n) decided. Grimm huffed at him with a glare that didn't have any real heat behind it.

"You shouldn't be helping people for free, Henchmen!" Grimm reminded, but (Y/n) simply rolled his eyes at the little monster.

"I won't get you trout for the next month if you don't help me." (Y/n) threatened. Grimm gasped, looking more than a little affronted.

"That's going to far, Henchmen! How dare you threaten the Great Lord Grimm's fish." (Y/n) gave the little monster a blank look before trailing off towards the relatively small house. Even (Y/n)'s house was larger. But that might be because (Y/n)'s house was originally an abandoned one.

Grimm could be heard grumbling to himself, even though he followed after (Y/n) with haste. (Y/n) couldn't fight off the small smile from his lips, having anticipated the small monster's reaction.

Knocking on the door of the home, (Y/n) shamelessly walked in, attempting not to show his surprise at the many children bustling around. One of the children looked at (Y/n) with a scrunched-up nose, he had just been digging through the trash, before grounding out a--

"What do you want?" (Y/n) blinked at the little boy before completely ignoring him and walking off towards where he knew Ruggie was. He, unfortunately, already knew what the hyena beastmen's scent was. He was painfully familiar with his and a few others.

When he finally found Ruggie, the hyena was bent over a small stove, with an elderly woman beside him.

"I might be able to fix it." (Y/n) spoke. Ruggie perked up, before turning to look at him.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, the manastone ran out of power. I'll just have to go and grab another one." And by grab, (Y/n) knew Ruggie meant steal. And stealing a manastone wasn't easy.

"No, I can fix it. I've done it plenty of times before. Even with a manastone running low on fumes." (Y/n) insisted. Before Ruggie could further protest, the elderly woman turned to (Y/n).

"Then hurry it up and fix it then." She spoke in a deadpanned voice, giving (Y/n) an analyzing look. And so, taking out a rusted wire from his pocket, something he had actually gotten digging through the trash just moments before (he had been hoping to add it to his collection, but clearly that wasn't happening), before getting to work.

He wrapped it around the stove, making sure the wire was connected to all the parts of the stove, before tearing out the manastone stuck within. He examined the small stone, that was darkening around the edges, before he made a crack in the center of it with his claws.

He stuck the manastone back, before putting the ends of the wire into the stone.

"Grimm, come over here and work your magic." (Y/n) called, watching as the small monster grumbled to himself, before breathing blue flame onto the stone. (Y/n) quickly yanked the monster back, not wanting him to get burned.

And just as (Y/n) suspected, the stove came to life, almost as if it was never not-working in the first place.

"How did you do that?" Ruggie inquired, getting a closer look at (Y/n)'s handy work.

"The manastone wasn't a dud, never was. And it wasn't lacking in magic. it's actually quite common for things like this to happen. There's still some magic in the stone, but without a proper conductor like a wire, items will stop working even if there's still magic present. Considering how rusty this wire is, however? I'd say you have another two weeks before the stove breaks down again." (Y/n) explained. Ruggie turned to him, intrigued.

"And how long if the wire wasn't rusty?" He asked.

"Another month." Was (Y/n)'s flat reply. "Anyways, I'm going to start heading back to town." (Y/n) had already found all the hidden treasures in Ruggie's trash that there was to find, so there was no longer any point in staying here.

"Stay for dinner. You helped fixed the stove, it's the least we can do." The elderly woman spoke, before her own nose twisted up. "But I expect you to get a bath before that young man!" She wagged her finger at him.

"Really, I should be going. I don't even have any fresh clothes to change into--" (Y/n) attempted to excuse himself, but Ruggie cut him off.

"You can use my clothes." Ruggie chirped, a particularly mischievous look crossing his features as he leaned in almost as if he was telling a secret. "And we're having fish tonight."

"Really!? Why didn't you just say so! Of course we'll stay!!' Grimm cheers decided for them. (Y/n) turned to glare at the little monster. Considering Ruggie's following laughter, it was exactly what he had been planning for.

#disney twst wonderland #twst wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #off script au #ruggie bucchi x reader #floyd leech x reader #male reader #male reader insert #x male reader

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kesaluliloveyou · 25 days ago

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I used the amazing KHR OC ask questions created by the equally amazing @social-muffin, which you can find right over here, for my KHR OCs. I haven’t had much of a chance to really rant about them, introduce them all to you lovelies other than their brief bios on my tracker page, and am so excited for the opportunity to do so! They’re my babies, one and all, and I love them. Of course, I have to start with Luca, so here’s his information!

What's your OCs name, pronouns and gender?

His full name is Luca Ricardo Accardi and he just goes by Luca. He doesn’t really have any nicknames, except for one his mother gave him as a baby, Goober. She would still call him Goober throughout his childhood and into his teen years, even in front of his friends, but he didn’t really mind it when she or his father used it. It was just one of the ways his parents showed their love for him, after all. When his friends and Guardians use it to tease him, he pretends to be really annoyed, and is at times, but most of the time, he’s hiding a smile and doesn’t mind so much. When they use it during the course of the story itself, it feels bittersweet to him and he has more of a problem pretending to be upset, usually just smiling sadly at them. He uses he/him pronouns and is a cisgender male. It’s mostly due to Luca’s thoughts on gender being really pretty straight-forward. He knows he’s male because he’s always been told he’s a boy, society views him as a boy, he doesn’t question that so he’s a boy. He’s also this very straight-forward when it comes to other people’s genders. If someone tells him they are a girl, even if other’s insist they’re a boy because of their birth certificate, Luca’s like ‘cool, they’re a girl’ and that’s it. If someone claims to have no set gender, Luca’s a little confused because he really doesn’t know how that works, but he accepts it still anyway. He's very much, in those situations, like ‘okay, I don’t get how someone can’t have a gender, but if that’s what you’re telling me, then it’s true’ and that’s how he’ll view them forever more.

What's their current age and what age do/did they get involved with the khr Canon?

During the course of the story, when Luca really comes into the KHR canon, he’s 15. In the Future Arc, he’d be either 25 or would just have turned 26, depending on when you believe that arc takes place. I definitely have headcanoned them out at all ages throughout the KHR canon though, right from the age of 15 all the way to still being friendly with the Vongola into his 70’s, because Luca dies from complications due to Alzheimer’s disease at 76.

What do they look like? Height, weight, unique physical features? (Drawings, Picrews, descriptions, all are welcome! Except AI art lmao)

The face claim I use for him is Mithra from Promise of Wizard, but it’s not exactly spot on to how I view Luca physically. The hair and eyes are the same, though I also think that, in the right lighting, Luca’s eyes look more teal than green. I also don’t envision him with the scar around his neck. However, I do think he has some noticeable scars, since he’s a little accident-prone.

Luca has red hair and green eyes that, as I said, look almost teal at points. He’s pretty long and lanky. Unless you were to see him shirtless, you would honestly figure him for being really skinny, with no muscles, and might even refer to him as a twig. He comes across like someone you could snap in two no problem because of that lean build of his.

He's kind of clumsy in his movements. Watching Luca is kind of like watching a young colt kind of getting its bearings, all long limbs and awkwardness. The only time this really changes is when he hunkers down and gets serious about fighting, when he starts really concentrating and paying attention to every move he’s making. Most of the time, he’s not paying that close of attention and because of that, he sometimes comes across with that awkward vibe, accidentally knocking into things, getting into people’s spaces without meaning to, unknowingly hitting someone close by because he didn’t really realize how long his limbs are or how far his reach is.

He tends to slouch and has pretty poor posture. He only remembers to stand straight, to try to create a more imposing figure or to appear more confident, when he’s reminded by someone, normally Bria to do so.

He has no tattoos, because he’s terrified of them, but does have his ears pierced. Him, and all of the children of the Accardi Famiglia, all his Guardians, went and got their ears pierced together in secret at something equivalent to a Claire’s, for Lara’s eighth birthday, as it was all she wanted and her parents had said no. They all figured Lara couldn’t be punished as badly if they all did it together.

What's your OCs relation to KHR? Are they someone's guardian, friend, subordinate, love interest? Or are they a family member of a canon character? If so, how are they related to that character?

SO, Luca comes into the KHR ‘verse as the successor to the Accardi Famiglia. This is a smaller Mafia family, though they have a long history. Nowhere’s near as long as the Vongola, and they certainly don’t rival the Vongola in power. Throughout their history, the Accardi have found themselves both on the good side of the Vongola and as a rival to them, depending on the Boss at the time. When the Boss of the family is moderate, when he treats his town well, doesn’t peddle drugs or weapons or other things, and when he keeps the Family strong but pretty well quiet, things with the Vongola are good. When the Boss is more temperamental, when the Boss is power-hungry, or such, then the Accardi Family have found themselves fighting with the Vongola and other important Families. But throughout, they have endured and existed. Luca’s father was the last proper Boss of the Accardi. He was one of those moderate Bosses who didn’t really seek power for power’s sake. However, he did want a little bit of power…by that, I mean he wanted a firmer footing for the current-day Accardi. He was not satisfied with the Family as it was. He wanted peace talks with various other Families. He wanted to gain more alliances and he even sought to ally them with the Vongola. It was the week before he and his Guardians were to go meet with Timoteo that it happened – two of Luca’s father’s Guardians, unhappy with the way he was leading the Family, adamant that he was making the Family weak and subservient to other families, adamant that he was destroying the Family’s history and lineage, staged a successful coup. They murdered Luca’s father and took his mother hostage, in order to keep Luca and his own Guardians, who had also been raised from birth for their successive positions, in line and unable to resist the changes that the old Guardians all stepped up to make in the Family. The other family members find themselves all at odds with who to follow and the Family has descended into madness, power struggles, and more than a handful of internal deaths. The children were carefully watched and managed and it took extreme measures, and the help of some members of the Family who truly are against the current Guardians and believe that the children are their only hope, for Luca and the others to escape and run.

In over their heads, the teens struggle to really know what to do. While they are strong and have been taught much, they’re only teenagers. There’s so much doubt within them that they can really solve any of this on their own, especially since for more than one of them, it would mean going up against their own parents. They’re anxious, they’re scared, they’re furious…at a loss for what really to do, it’s up to Luca to really lead the way, he feels, and he does what he thinks is best. He wants to meet with the Vongola and get their help in bringing the Accardi Family back to peace and to broker a future with them, as his father wanted, before Luca takes his place as the Accardi Boss, much earlier than he’d ever wanted to. However, the teens find it much harder to gain access to Timoteo than they’d figured.

Tsuna and his Guardians though? The next generation of Vongola? Far easier to gain access to them and the teens head to Japan. However, there are a lot of worries about whether the Vongola plan is even the best one, and doubts about whether the next generation of Vongola is going to be any use at all – they’re just teenagers too, after all, and certain Guardians of Luca’s believe these teenagers to be really weak and pathetic, especially after observing Tsuna and his family for a couple days, so there is some friction there.

The story is really just the next-gen Accardi and the next-gen Vongola meeting, learning to accept and trust one another, and solving the issues within the Accardi Famiglia. Of course, I do believe that Tsuna and Luca end up as allies after everything that happens, and their Families remain closely linked to each other even after the events of the story, so I have lots of ideas for them well past the events of the story proper.

What's your OCs flame/flames? If they have multiple, which flame is their strongest?

Unlike what most would think, which is that because he’s the Boss of the Family, Luca has Sky Flames, this is incorrect. While his father had Sky Flames, Luca has Sun Flames, as does his Mother. He has a weak secondary Sky Flame, but it’s so weak that he struggles to light it at all. It takes a lot of power and concentration to do so and when he does, the Flame is lacking in purity. However, when using his Sun Flames, Luca’s flame output is astronomical and the Flame’s purity is easily on par with the Vongola Flames.

How does your OC use their flame? Strictly for combat, or more recreationally? Is flame use something instinctive to them, or do they have to direct their flame consciously?

While Luca’s been taught mostly to use his Flames as tools for combat, he also has learned to light his Flame at will, how to attach it to official documents to both protect the document and verify that it was signed by him, and how to use the Flame to heal others in some way – be it physical, mental, or emotional. That sounds weird but let me explain a bit – he can use his Sun Flame to heal all but really serious physical wounds, but he can also use it to help someone else focus mentally, to sharpen their mind, and he can use it (though not nearly as well – it’s something he has to learn through years of hard work to do easily and instinctively) to sort of influence people’s moods by boosting the production of certain hormones and chemicals in the individual’s brain. When it comes to his Sun Flames, Luca finds them easy to summon and control in basic measures, but more advanced techniques are not a simple ‘I can think of it, so I can do it’ and require practice and heavy training.

Does your OC have a mafia family they are a part of? If so, what's their position in that Familia?

As mentioned in question four, Luca is the heir apparent to the Accardi mafia family and, by the end of the story, the Boss of the Accardi Famiglia.

If your OC was a civilian what would their job be? Would they be happy with that job? Would they be good at it?

As a civilian, I think Luca would be happy with a more subdued job, something without a lot of pressure but that still allows him to interact with a lot of people or enables him in some way to make people happy. I think something like some sort of chef, probably a pastry chef, since he’s really passionate about food and loves baking especially.

Do you have a voice actor picked out for your OC? If yes, why did you pick this voice actor? (If someone talked with your oc, what would they notice about their voice?)

Honestly, with Luca, where he’s a deaf mute, it would be really damn hard to pick a voice actor. He doesn’t really talk, though he will make noises. Those sounds typically tend to be really loud when they happen, just because he can’t really gauge his volume level, and they sound scratchy and hoarse when they come out.

Last question! What's your OCs current fashion style? And what's their dream style? Are they close?

Luca has a really simple, relaxed sense of style. He doesn’t really follow fashion at all and just wears whatever he likes and feels comfortable in. Jeans, hoodies, simple t-shirts under open button-down shirts, most of them in dark colours like navy, black, or dark grays, sometimes with maybe a pop of a light green or blue (normally gifted by his parents or friends). He lives in beat up old Converse high-tops and will be really sad when they finally wear themselves out. He doesn’t wear a lot of accessories. Normally he just wears simple steel studs in his ears, but if he’s feeling really fancy, he’ll add a stainless steel chain necklace to his outfit or a cool looking belt. Overall, he’s pretty happy with his style and doesn’t think it needs to be improved in any way.

#my ocs #khr ocs #khr #accardi famiglia #luca accardi

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frodothefair · 8 months ago

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Queer Frodo

Randomly thinking about fem!Frodo for a future fic idea I've got cooking, and I've realized something. My version of fem!Frodo is actually trans-male Frodo, but the Shire lacks the vocabulary and the sociocultural framework for her trans identity to be full realized. A few facts about trans FtM Frodo, then:

--assigned female at birth and still for the most part goes by female pronouns. If she is called "he," or "Bilbo's nephew" it's almost invariably in jest, as the Shire cannot conceive of transition as a serious thing: only as a joke, or another form of being odd (or as they would completely unironically call it, "queer")

--birth name is not Frodo, but Forsythia. :). The nickname Frodo came about when someone, see item above, made a joke that she is so much like a boy that they may as well call her Frodo, after her father Drogo.

--Frodo enjoys traditionally male or at least genderless pursuits, including tramping around the Shire, thinking about adventures, pilfering mushrooms, fishing, as well as reading and writing. She is not particularly fond of activities that fall under the umbrella of "tending the hearth," or "feminine self-care."

--has more male friends than female friends. Gets antsy and feels out of place in large female gatherings. Her male friends see her as one of them

--always identifies with the male heroes in a story

--feels more comfortable in male clothing. Even when she wears a dress or skirt, it's not uncommon for her to wear a blazer over it for an androgynous style

--Bilbo is often disparaged for "letting her run wild and wear breeches." Part of the reason why she gets used to doing so, however, is because her parents passed away early, and she had relatively little oversight at Brandy Hall, while Bilbo let her continue on account of liking her free spirit.

--Sam, oddly enough, still insists on always calling her Mistress Frodo, and sees more of the feminine in her than do most people. He also sees himself in a sort of courtly love role. He dotes on her, but also puts her on a bit of a pedestal, and until she signals her interest to him, he would never dare be explicit about his feelings. Frodo does not mind Sam seeing and appreciating the feminine in her. In fact, he is one of the few people with whom she's comfortable exploring that part of her identity.

--she did wear a dress at Bilbo's 111st, and Sam recalled her dancing (not Rosie) at that party when they were on the slopes of Mount Doom. He then declared his love, and Frodo at first did not believe him, thinking he was high on lava fumes.

--really the whole reason I'm making a biologically female Frodo is so she can give birth to Sam's child and marry him in a semi socially sanctioned manner. (I mean, the Shire will still probably blow up, but mostly due to the class difference, not the trans-ness).

@konjugaltdien

#frodo baggins #lbgtq #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr frodo #genderbending

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forthelulzy · 22 days ago

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how does this work again oml

Title: say my name (and we will never be afraid again)

Fandom: Dragon Age: Veilguard

Characters: My Rook, Varric Tethras

Summary: Tace Mercar, in the early days of their... association with Varric Tethras, realizes something interesting about his nicknaming.

Notes: Inspired by abyssal-ilk's post r.e. Varric calling Maevaris "Mae" rather than one of his many nicknames. Also somewhat inspired by the veilguard30 prompts by pavus, but there ain't no way I have the spoons to do all of them this late so it's not official.

It's pronounced 'Tass' like sass (or ass, tbh). Title from F+tM, as always.

"Varric," Tace said, "I've noticed something."

Varric had no quip for that; it died on his tongue. The dreadfully fake Orlesian accent had, at least for the moment, dropped into the ether, and a rare seriousness graced his associate. Their gaze was focused somewhere around Varric's left shoulder. It was not as if they had trouble looking anyone in the eye before. Magisters, demons, dragons—

"All right?" Varric replied uneasily.

"I've read your books, Varric."

"I'm flattered." He hadn't thought Tace had the time, as often as they were freeing slaves and running afoul of the Crows by stealing their marks and whatever else. Always under a self-inflicted deadline.

"You have a nickname for everyone. Blondie. Sparkler. Even the Inquisitor got Stormy. I've heard you talk about half the movers of Thedas, and it's rarely by name." Tace swallowed and looked up. Amber turned liquid gold in the candlelight of Varric's hideout, pinning Varric in place as surely as it had their first meeting.

A bead of sweat dripped down Varric's chest. Wasn't he used to Minrathous summer by now?

"You pick a nickname, and that's that. But not me. It's as if you make a point to call me Tace, when my own father won't. When everyone else calls me Rook."

"Uh—"

"I don't mind Rook. It is, at least, better than my birth name." He expected them to pace, to let out some of the frantic energy that gripped them so often, but Tace remained still, staring at Varric.

It was worse.

"What are you asking, Tace?" he forced himself to say.

"You call Maevaris 'Mae', too…" Tace cocked their head, eyes glittering. There was something about elven eyes that refracted light, lit them up like jewels in dim settings, though Merrill and Fenris and Sera had always insisted they couldn't see any better in the dark. Tace, for their part, had played the mysterious rogue they always did— until now. "Varric, are you calling us by our chosen names on purpose?"

"I, well—" He expected Tace to interrupt, but they just looked at him, and that was harder to shrug off. "Yes, all right? It wouldn't be fair to take your name from you." Umbrage rose in his chest, for being put on the spot, yes, but mostly for how stunned Tace looked, as if no one had thought of something so simple before.

A beat, and Tace laughed, a sound of delight and surprise in equal measure. "Ah, you are one of a kind. I have often been told the world is not fair, so why should we be? But you, my friend!" They had slipped back into the Orlesian accent.

Varric almost rolled his eyes. Then he stopped, midway to turning his back and uttering some line over his shoulder, and thought better. "Are you all right, Tace?"

Tace was, of course, mildly offended at the implication that they were not, but then they deflated. "I will be, I think. I just…" They waved a hand, words failing. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tace." Varric watched them leave the room, footsteps silent and deliberate, and let out a long breath through his nose. He had a feeling his association with Tace was about to make his life even more complicated. He was too old for this shit.

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age rook #varric tethras #dragon age #nonbinary rook #elf rook #shadow dragon rook #varric's nicknames #in this house we respect trans ppl's names #this rook is honestly A Lot and I have so much thoughts abt them #never enough spoons :(#lulzy writes #hi yeah I haven't posted writing in almost 2 years why do you ask

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spiritsided · 2 months ago

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╰ ⛰️ ◞ ( H.UGH JAC.KMAN. CIS MAN. FIFTY5. HE/HIM. ) do you see RUSSELL “RUST" BOONE over there ? they've been in greylock for twenty five years working as the sheriff at greylock police department. i heard they can be MAGNETIC but i wouldn't get too comfortable , rumor has it they can also be PEEVISH it isn't too surprising when you realize they have a reputation as the local BYRONIC HERO.

[ ✦ ] 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 . . . . basics.

full name: russell boone

nickname(s): rust, rusty

age: fifty5

date of birth: may 10

place of birth: el reno, ok

ethnicity: white

nationality: american

gender: cis man

pronouns: he, his

family ties.

mother: samantha boone ( deceased )

father: harold boone ( unknown )

siblings: kate boone ( younger sister, alive )

spouse / partner: rosemary "rosie" boone ( wife, deceased )

children: alice, amelia, adeline boone ( three daughters, alive )

pets: bandit ( american foxhound ), whiskey ( orange cat )

occupational information.

occupation, current: sheriff

occupation, previous: marine, fbi agent

physical appearance.

face claim: hugh jackman

hair color: brown

eye color: brown

height: six foot two

tattoos: none

piercings: none

clothing style: white hanes t shirt and blue levis supremacy

[ ✦ ] 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 . . . . personality.

RUGGED & GRUFF: rust is a no-nonsense, tough-as-nails sheriff who doesn’t mince words. he’s direct, often blunt, and can come across as a hardass. his years in the military and the fbi have given him a hard edge, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. he’s the type to scowl more than smile.

LOYAL & PROTECTIVE: beneath that tough exterior, rust is fiercely loyal to those he cares about. his family and community mean everything to him, and he would go to great lengths to protect them. he might not show affection in traditional ways, but his actions—like staying up all night to solve a case or ensuring his kids are safe—speak volumes.

STUBBORN & INDEPENDENT: rust is incredibly stubborn, often insisting on doing things his way, even if it’s not the easiest or most efficient. he’s independent to a fault, rarely asking for help and often preferring to shoulder burdens on his own. this can lead to conflict with others, especially those who try to get too close or challenge his authority.

COMPASSIONATE, BUT NOT A SOFTIE: while rust may seem harsh, he has a deep, hidden well of compassion. he’s particularly sensitive to the struggles of the underdog or those who are vulnerable. however, he rarely shows this side openly, and when he does, it’s often through gruff, unspoken acts of kindness rather than words.

SARCASTIC & WRY: rust has a sharp wit and a sarcastic sense of humor that he uses as both a defense mechanism and a way to keep people at arm’s length. his sarcasm can be biting, but it’s also a way for him to connect with others in his own unique way.

DETERMINED & TENACIOUS: once rust sets his mind to something, he’s relentless. whether it’s solving a case or protecting his loved ones, he won’t stop until he’s achieved his goal. this determination makes him a formidable sheriff and a reliable ally.

PRIVATE & RECULSIVE rust doesn’t open up easily. he keeps his thoughts and feelings to himself, preferring to deal with his emotions in solitude. he’s the type of person who would rather go for a long, solitary drive than talk about what’s bothering him.

[ ✦ ] 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 . . . . tw for implied chid abuse/n neglect. military service. parental death and terminal illness.

russell "rusty" boone was born and raised in el reno, oklahoma, on a modest farm that stretched across acres of dry, sunbaked land. life on the farm was tough, and from a young age, rusty learned the value of hard work. the crack of dawn meant chores—feeding the animals, mending fences, and working the fields with his mother, who was his primary caretaker and the backbone of the family. his father, a distant figure both emotionally and physically, worked in the city. to rusty, his father was more of a shadowy presence—his only real memories of him were the mediocre birthday presents sent with a note or two and the occasional letter that carried financial reassurance but little warmth.

rusty's childhood was, to put it simply, painfully average. he wasn’t the star student, the athlete, or the troublemaker; he was just rusty, a boy who got by. in a town like el reno, expectations were simple, and rusty lived up to them by doing what was necessary and little more. after high school, he followed the expected path—college wasn’t an option, and the military was the next logical step. joining the marines wasn’t a passion for rusty; it was more of a rite of passage for a young man from el reno.

the marines molded rusty in ways he hadn’t anticipated. the discipline, the structure, the camaraderie—it all gave him a sense of purpose, but it didn’t quite fill the void within him. he didn’t "find" himself in the way others seemed to; instead, he emerged from his service a harder, leaner version of the boy who had left el reno. when he was discharged, rusty returned home.

his mother was dying, her once-strong frame now frail, and his father, worn by guilt and regret, was finally present—but for rusty, it was too little, too late. the truth about his father’s absence became painfully clear when rusty discovered that his father had been living comfortably in the city, sending just enough money to keep the farm afloat while enjoying the fruits of his labor far from the struggles of farm life. the betrayal cut deep, and rusty, fueled by anger and disappointment, made a decision—he severed ties with his father completely.

before his mother passed, his father, wracked with guilt, tried to make amends. in his last act of repentance, he left rusty a substantial sum of money, more than enough to start a new life. rusty took the money and left el reno behind, carrying with him the lessons of hard work and the bitter fruit of a broken family.

he moved to new york, a city that couldn’t be more different from the quiet plains of oklahoma. it was there, amidst the noise and chaos, that rusty began to carve out a new life. he enrolled in college, eager to leave his past behind and find a new path. it was in new york that he met her—a woman named rosemary. they were both searching for something more, something that had eluded them in their respective hometowns. their connection was immediate, forged by shared experiences of small-town life and a mutual understanding of the yearning for something greater. together, they found solace in each other and began to build a life, one that felt worlds away from the dusty fields of el reno.

things were shaping up for rusty. he was driven by a need to redefine himself far away from the farm and his father’s legacy. new york was a far cry from oklahoma, but rusty thrived on the city’s energy, even as it felt foreign and overwhelming at times. he studied criminal justice, finding a natural affinity for the intricacies of law and order. the discipline and structure of the military had left a mark on him, and law enforcement felt like a continuation of that path—only this time, it was on his terms.

it wasn’t long before rusty caught the eye of an fbi recruiter during a college job fair. his background as a marine, combined with his sharp mind and steady demeanor, made him an ideal candidate. the fbi offered him a chance to take his skills to the next level, to protect and serve on a national scale, and rusty took the opportunity without hesitation.

rusty spent several years working with the fbi, where he quickly established himself as a capable and dependable agent. the work was challenging, often grueling, but it gave rusty a sense of purpose. it was also during this time that he married rosemary. she understood him in ways no one else did, and together, they navigated the ups and downs of life as an fbi agent’s family.

but as the years went by, the demands of rusty’s job began to weigh on his family. the late nights, the dangerous assignments, and the constant travel took a toll, particularly after their children were born. rosemary, who had always longed for a sense of home and stability, began to talk about moving somewhere quieter, a safer life for their children.

eventually, they moved to greylock, a picturesque, quiet town beneath mount greylock. rusty was reluctant at first. he had spent years building his career, and the idea of leaving the fbi felt like walking away from everything he had worked for. but rosemary's arguments were compelling, and the strain on their family was undeniable.

the transition wasn’t easy for rusty. he missed the thrill of the fbi, the high-stakes cases, and the sense of making a difference on a grand scale. but the quiet of greylock offered its own comfort, and he found solace in the simplicity of small-town life.

five years ago, however, rosemary passed away from cancer, and the loss devastated rusty. raising his three daughters alone, he struggled to find balance between being a father and working as the town’s sheriff. rusty never aspired to be sheriff, but after working years a detective, he was approached by the local police department to take up the role after the previous sheriff had retired. his background with the fbi made him the perfect candidate, though the position came with heavy responsibility, weighing on him now more than ever.

rusty has since found a new rhythm in greylock, though his heart remains burdened by loss. he’s known for his no-nonsense approach, sharp instincts, and unwavering commitment to justice, even as he quietly battles his grief.

#greylockhq:intro

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f0olsgld · 4 months ago

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my name is [ VIVIAN BLOOM ] … and i am from [ HELLTOWN, OHIO ] and i’m a [ FRONT DESK AT THE HELLHOUND MOTEL ]. i lived in helltown for [ THIRTY-ONE YEARS ] because [ SHE WAS BORN HERE ]. i am [ THIRTY-ONE ] my pronouns are [ SHE/HER ] and i am [ RESOURCEFUL, ADVENTUROUS, RESILIENT ] though some may say i’m [ AGGRESSIVE, SHORT-TEMPERED, DESTRUCTIVE ]. i also hear i look a lot like [ PHOEBE TONKIN ] but, i don’t know if i see it. i’m here because [ SHE CAN’T BRING HERSELF TO LEAVE FOLLOWING HER MOTHER’S DEATH ] but, maybe there’s more to it than that. you never know with helltown.

TRIGGER WARNING: homophobia (internalized and outward), religious trauma, physical + emotional abuse, prison, alcoholism, child abandonment, cancer, grief, implied ptsd.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

name: vivian elizabeth bloom nicknames/alias: viv ( by most ), vivi ( by close friends only )

faceclaim: phoebe tonkin

age: thirty-one gender: cisfemale sexuality: homosexual date/place of birth: september 3rd / helltown, ohio currently: helltown, ohio

positive traits: resourceful, adventurious, resilient, persistent, thick-skinned negative traits: aggressive, short-tempered, destructive, impulsive astrological sign: virgo archetype: the fallen angel

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘.

you never blamed your mother for the way you grew up, as much as the few friends you've hung onto insisted that you should. your mother, janelle, brought you into the world believing she wouldn't be alone in your upbringing -- but she couldn't have been more wrong. did she hate you for it, the loneliness that engulfed her as she watched your father peel off in the direction of his new life? perhaps she did for a time, but she was sensible enough to know better. setting her grievances aside, she packed you up and the few belongings you had and left georgia in your dust. just you and her.

you would drive for what feels like a lifetime, not that you would ever be able to remember it. it was before you could ever register the concept of forming memories. you weren't even in the world yet when your mother stepped foot in this town, and when you finally got to know it -- it didn't take very long to know you were a goner.

it wasn’t your mother’s fault that she was raised steeped in southern tradition like a tea bag submerged in piping hot water — but it was her fault that she made no effort to understand the world outside of her own. thus, you inherited these ideals in your early years. mother knows best, right? hell seemed like such a scary place. you were too good to be damned there. and so, you followed the path. straight-laced as can be, your hairbows imprisoning the locks of hair meant to be free.

trailer park life was never something you protested against -- it was a home, and it was yours. that is, until the intruder arrived. you had gotten used to the sea of boys that came through your home ( notice how you never called them men ), but you never quite understood why this one stuck. even by the age of ten, you were repulsed by the cigarettes he went through like candy, and the bottle of alcohol that normally decorated the house like one might adorn the mantle. perhaps your mother was desperate for love, but there was better out there. perhaps, just maybe, she didn't believe she deserved it.

you did well in school despite, not like your mother cared. she had once, that is -- until she got the chance to play house with a man who had no control over his anger. you bore witness to it aimed against your mother before it was turned to you. you were fourteen when he got violent with you for the very first time, but he had been uttering malicious manipulation under his breath from the moment you met him. it was perhaps the greatest gift you could have been given when he was arrested shortly before you turned sixteen. running from charges, those were the words you overheard. you were too busy picking up what was left of your mother to truly understand.

you don't remember much of your early twenties, besides the fact that you never went to college. maybe you could have, made something of yourself. you certainly weren't without the intelligence, contrary to what some might believe: that girl, trailer trash by blood, the valedictorian? believe it, assholes. where you went without, however, was the finances. and so, you stayed bound to the land that had all but tightened its grip around your throat: it owns you now. from waiting tables at the local diner to bartending -- you engage in odd jobs that are just enough to help pay both your bills and assist with your mother's, but leaving little room for anything else.

that is, until the universe decided that you hadn't already been through enough.

your mother's cancer diagnosis is discovered later than it should have been -- it's stage four, to be exact. since you had left the trailer for the outside world, you had come to learn more about all she had shielded you from, all you had been ignorant to. you had become distant from her so you could find yourself, including making some attempt to come to terms with your own queerness. however, her diagnosis caused you to find yourself hurtling back into her life. maybe is a sense of guilt, obligation -- there was a time, after all, when she actually made some amount of effort to take care of you.

her eventual passing leaves you with more questions than answers and mounds of unpaid medical bills -- as well as a deeper fear of leaving the confines of helltown. you begin working at the motel at the front desk -- finally able to find a sense of stability. it only took thirty years.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

vivian initially identified as bisexual, hoping that maybe, just maybe -- she could find herself falling in love with a man to make her mother happy. after her mother's passing, however, vivian has begun to come to terms with the fact that she is indeed gay. even before her death, janelle never knew that her daughter liked girls.

has a rather simple outfit uniform of a solid t-shirt, worn in jeans, converse and a leather jacket ( weather permitting ). however, where she differentiates each outfits is in her jewelry. vivian wears a ring on nearly every finger as well as armfuls of bangles and at least two necklaces at a time.

appears rather gruff and antagonistic to most people -- but this is a defense mechanism. she deeply fears letting people too close like her mother did, allowing herself to get hurt again.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

sheet will be linked here.

#VIVIAN | about.#helltownohiohq

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queenseneca · 1 year ago

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Name(s): Crimson Constance Moon (chosen full name), Moony (Seneca and Mystic), Hothead (Spirit’s nickname) Aloisius (birth name)

Species: Unicorn (?)

Gender: Male

Family: Seneca Falls (adoptive mother), Mystic Spark (adoptive sister), Felila Falls (adoptive aunt)

Occupation: Fire mage, prince

INFO-

Aloisius was born to a couple that refused him as a foal and left him in the care of a family friend. The family friend raised him until he was only a few years old before taking him for a “little trip” to the Everfree Forest. The caretaker played a game of hide-and-seek with young Aloisius, then subsequently left him, the poor young unicorn inexperienced to care or even know how to protect himself. Though it was difficult, he managed, though barely. The forest was unforgiving, ruthless and cruel, but despite it all he stayed determined. Only a few months into his unfortunate isolation, he met a young changeling filly named Evanescent. One who had also been abandoned albeit for different reasons. The two were cautious around each other at first, but knew it would be better if they got along, so the next 3 moons were spent getting a rhythm down to be able to help one another survive.

It was on a normal day that someone visited the Everfree Forest and found the two foals alone and in dire need of care. The mare was very concerned. Aloisius in particular was very bad. He had scars all over that had poorly healed and grown infected. Though the young foals were hesitant, the mare insisted on taking them back with her to help them. It was also the day the two learned about the princesses Seneca and Felila. The former of which had rescued them and seemed overly enthusiastic about caring for them. While Felila was very against it, Seneca had seemingly just brushed it off and took Aloisius and Evanescent in anyways. She cleaned them, healed them, and let them sleep in her room until special ones could be made.

Over the course of the next few years, it was a bit rocky. Aloisius had grown so comfortable and used to living in the wild that he found it difficult to reacclimate to society. Especially with someone as high ranking as the princesses. He would often hide behind Evanescent or retreat under a table. It was louder and far more cramped than he’d been used to; and frankly, it scared him, though he wouldn’t outwardly admit such a thing. Seneca did her best to provide for him and help Aloisius to slowly get back to his former self. Within this time, he also had been taken out to Canterlot quite a lot and got to see other foals and fillies playing together with their parents. He felt a great amount of jealousy and resentment and confusion on why his own mother and father hadn’t wanted him. Why no-one had wanted him.

When Seneca tried to tell Aloisius that he was very much wanted and loved, he shut her down, claiming how could anyone love a thing like him if his own parents didn’t want him. He was so emotionally distraught by the thoughts in his head that he hadn’t noticed he was crying, nor that he was being dragged into a hug. Seneca didn’t say anything to him, didn’t try to act. She simply offered her embrace. It would take many more years for Aloisius to be able to move on and embrace his new life.

With this new life, he took on a new name: Crimson Moon, in honour of the kind mare that wouldn’t give up on him. He also considered Evanescent (now Mystic Shine) his sister. The two had grown even closer. Now technically part of the royal family, though he didn’t enjoy the attention, it granted him access to a plethora of books and scrolls. Many-a night Crimson would be found hunched over a desk with texts littering the area. Sometimes he would be awake until the wee hours of morning. Other times, more amusing to Seneca, he’d be sleeping with his face in a book. In this instance she would carry him back to his room and tuck him into his bed. Either way, he learned a great deal about magic and history, yet he didn’t quite feel complete. Something in him urged to look for something else. Something more…dangerous.

Exploring without supervision was quite common for the young stallion as it granted him a sense of freedom not felt anywhere else. Adding to that, he enjoyed the silence. The magic seemed endless almost until he came upon a section focused on an element; one that called to his very soul. Fire. Crimson set about learning as much as he could and practicing in small spurts. Being a unicorn that was still greatly inexperienced in magic, these attempts went about as well as one would expect. Over and over he would start a small controlled fire to study it, but it would quickly grow out of control, and in his panic, Crimson would forget how to stop it. It caused him anxiety to the point that Felila forced him to stay away from the library and castle ground until he could control it.

This set him back a little bit, but he managed. His first idea was to go to Seneca and seek her help, though she admitted to him that she wasn’t well versed in fire magic. Her advice to Crimson was to start small and near a water source so he could put it out faster and cause less damage. She even showed him a spot right outside the castle garden next to a waterfall and a pond. The first few days she stayed with him to make sure he understood what to do, but after that she was forced back to her duties and had to leave Crimson alone. He wasn’t too happy about this. It scared him to be without her.

A week passed before he felt comfortable trying without Seneca. Through trial and error he slowly got better, but not perfect. It started to frustrate him. This is where he met a unique earth pony named Buttercup. She had happened to pass by and see his attempts at making fire and felt it inside her to help. Being a “master of fire” herself, as she so put it, she knew how and where to do it. This led to the two of them traveling to Ponyville to set one of the old abandoned houses ablaze. Seeing the fire spread and char the remains mesmerized Crimson. A flash of light on his flank caught his eye and both he and Buttercup looked to see what it was. To both of their surprise, it was a cutie mark. A calling to Crimson that this was his destiny, however confusing it was for the moment.

Crimson kept close to Buttercup when she managed to show up, using her insight to build upon his knowledge and become better with his powers. Before long she introduced him to her little group of misfits: another earth pony mare named Ivy Night and a unicorn stallion named Spirit. Right from the beginning of the journey, Spirit and Crimson did not get along. Whether it be because of simple things or big decisions, they never could agree. This led to arguments. And though Buttercup wasn’t too fond of it, she didn’t try to stop them either, sometimes just watching from the sidelines with Ivy. The two mares found it more amusing than anything else.

One day they were forced to intervene. Spirit, despite his name, was very much up for causing havoc in Canterlot, scaring the ponies there. Crimson, on the other hand, saw Canterlot as his home and adamantly refused to bother them. This confused Spirit who half-heartedly asked why he (Crimson) was perfectly happy burning down buildings and trees in Ponyville and the outskirts, but when it came to the snotty, uptight ponies in society, he turned it down. Even though he knew honesty would cause him harm, Crimson didn’t hold back, explaining his reasoning that those that lived there were important to him. Words were tossed between the two stallions and flames started to build up into the sky. No-one thought much of it until Crimson heard screams of terror. He immediately cut the argument short and ran off to help.

The moments were a blur, but he did remember waking up in the royal castle with Mystic beside him. She was worried and grateful that he’d made it out alive, but when asked about the others, she went silent.

Buttercup no longer required Spirit to be there when she visited Crimson. Ivy tagged along, and Mystic was introduced as well, making the group even larger. While not technically friends, they could tolerate one another’s company, and it was enough for them.

Seneca also made sure that Crimson stayed in Canterlot to keep him from causing any more unwanted trouble. She kept a close eye on him. He was still young and impressionable and she wanted the best for him.

Of the many things Crimson grew to love and enjoy, board game nights with Seneca and Mystic were something he dearly cherished. Especially if they included Seneca’s homemade sweets.

#doodlepost #oc tag #mlp friendship is magic #mlp au #mlp fim #mlp art #mlp oc #ask #ask blog #ask oc blog

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cellophaine · 3 years ago

Note

Maybe some headcanons on a reader who's first language is not English (and didn't necessarily grow up in the US) and Matt? Him being really intrigued the first time he's heard your voice and accent (maybe making a game out of guessing where you're from??), loving it when you call him pet names in your native language (👀), asking you what certain things would be translated, stuff like that? :)

I just think this could be great for both fluff and smut haha

Lovely

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warning: Fluff.

Author's Note: AHH I love this prompt!! I can relate to it sm. Still, I botched it 😭 I'm sorry 🥲

GIF Credit: @/mmurdockz

Matt loves listening to you, your voice, and the sounds you make around him.

Even the slightest noise from you can bring a smile to his face.

He could hear the sneaky steps whenever he pretends to be asleep because you don't want to wake him up.

The little throat clears every now and then.

The rapid taps of your keyboard, followed by a long silence when you try to put your thoughts into words.

The way your voice changes subtly with good or bad news.

He loves how your accent alters some pronunciations when you read to him.

He loves it, even more, when you speak in your first language.

"How do you say 'sweetheart' in your language?"

You explain how there isn't an exact translation for it, but there are terms of endearment that express the same thing. And when you ask why with a touch of amusement in your voice, Matt says.

"I'm just curious. What would you call me, your sweet boyfriend, in your mother's tongue?"

You think for a moment before granting him his wish.

The nickname rolls off your tongue so effortlessly. The consonants in your mouth create something more complicated than what Matt is used to.

You gave him the literal translation of the phrase in English.

Even though he didn't understand the unfamiliar sound, a faint touch of blush drew on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The thought and sound of you calling him by an endearment term in the language you had known your whole life made his heart flutter.

Matt tries to pronounce the words with your help. He says them repeatedly until the sound loses its meaning in your ears.

He asks you to teach him your favourite pet name.

He never misses a chance to call you by the lovely nickname he insists on using.

He isn't shy to use it, even with an occasional botched attempt in saying it. Whether it's in front of his friends, anywhere at all.

The nickname follows the cup of coffee he makes you, always with a kiss on your cheek, on your forehead.

It's almost as if he wanted to press the term of endearment into you, imprinting it on your skin.

While words can not express just how much he loves you, Matt wants to make sure you can feel the immense love he reserves only for you in the language you have known since birth.

You have a favourite restaurant that you often visit. You love it for the nostalgia of your home, the connections and the friendships you have made here.

Matt loves to see you immerse in the welcoming atmosphere of this place.

He has the most adorable smile just listening to you conversing with the owner, bonding in your language.

It also gave him an idea.

It was a typical night for both of you.

By typical, Matt comes home one night when most people should be asleep. And you're up to tend to his injuries of the night.

You press down on the edge of his gauze, securing it over the wound on his chest. Matt's hand seeks out yours, pressing the palm of your hand directly on his heart.

You can feel it – his heart is beating much faster than usual.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

The concern in your voice laces into the nickname, which is spoken softly right after your apprehension made itself known.

The skin on his neck is slightly flushed; his mouth opens and closes.

You start to panic until the unexpected yet very familiar words make their way to your ears. Your head takes longer to process them as a broad smile spreads across your face.

"I love you."

The pronunciation was a little off, but the intention was evident in the earnestness of his face.

It was in the slight furrow of his brow, the blank eyes that were warm like his embrace, like a kiss on your forehead when you woke up next to him in the morning.

Matt took your silence as an alarming sign. A slight frown appeared at the corners of his lips. A look of worry etched onto his face as he got flustered.

"Did I say it wrong?"

You held onto his hand as you felt him pulling away from you. You brought it to your face, pressing the back of his hand to your cheek, letting him feel your smile.

"No, no. It was … perfect. You caught me off guard, that's all."

Matt exhaled slightly; the tension evaporated a little in his rigid posture.

"I love you, too."

You whispered the love sentiment to him in a way it was always meant to be said. Tender, full of love. And you got to say those words to him in the way you always knew how.

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chaotic-enby-selfships · 2 years ago

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Chaotic La squadra Headcanons because I can

So, I know im not as active on here as I used to be but that's just cause I kinda just. have moments where I forget this site exists hfvgkjsdfgvjksdfgkvsd. Anyways I know I dont really post about JoJo that much but take these chaotic LS headcanons because LS is the main reason I love golden wind so much.

Prosciutto is a fucking plant dad. His room has shelves that are just full of old-ass books and plants. He even has names for them.

Melone, Illuso, Risotto and Formaggio all have an Onlyfans. Formaggio has it ironically while Risotto just has it for the money. If the gang has a flight to somewhere, Prosciutto will be the one to wake everyone up at 5AM even if they have to leave at 1PM. this has resulted in Formaggio and Ghiaccio beating his ass. Illuso says shit like "Yass queen", "Slay", and "material gworl" unironically. he also uses "babe" and "sweetie" as platonic nicknames. also he dresses in drag. His drag queen name is Refa Lection yk how I said Pros is a plant dad? well Formaggio is absolutely a cat dad and yes this HAS resulted in fights since Formaggios cats often knock over Prosciutto's plants. P: "IF YOU DON'T GET THOSE BASTARDS UNDER CONTROL I WILL!!" F: "YOU WON'T LAY A *HAND* ON MY SWEET BABIES!!!! AND HOW DARE YOU CALL THEM BASTARDS!!" Three days grace, Fall out Boy and MCR can almost always be heard from Risottos room. even in the dead of night. Everyone either just puts up with it, listens along, or drowns it out with their own music. Out of all of them, Risotto has the highest spice tolerance. Ghiacco always insists that he can handle the spicy food that Riz eats. He cannot. Both Formaggio and Melone like to metaphorically fuck with everyone in la squadra whenever they're bored, with the exception of Risotto because 1, he doesn't give a shit, and 2, Melone is too intimidated by him. His favorite member to piss off is Ghiaccio. Make no mistake though, they fuck with each other all the time too. They are NOT partners in crime. Formaggio will often dare Ghia to do stupid shit and then film it. He has a whole chest filled with tapes of Ghiaccio failing or suffering during his dares. Melone is a HUGE fucking astrology and tarot card bitch. He legit knows everyone's birth chart by heart and is always offering readings. He also cleanses with incense and Ghiaccio finds it insufferable. Melone also just somehow knows everyones secrets no matter what and no one knows how. The rest of the members all sorta fear him to a certain extent because of this. Yes Melone has used his uncanny ability to his advantage.

Pesci likes to paint his nails. it's usually really messy whenever he does it though, so he'll sometimes get Prosciutto to do it for him. He doesn't really do anything fancy with them; usually just paints them a bright green like his hair or blue to represent the ocean. :) He also watches shit like troom troom and 5 minute crafts and genuinely believes practically every word that they say. He has tried more than once to recreate some craft he saw on one of those channels, and gets really sad when it doesn't work. Pros usually has to console him out of it. Ghiaccio "secretly" listens to BTS and knows all the words to the songs. Formaggio once caught him singing Fake Love at the top of his lungs. Yes Forms has this recorded. The reason Ghia attempts to keep his love for the band a secret (even though everyone knows about it) is cause he thinks that people will make fun of him for listening to it, which Formaggio does do, but mainly just because of Ghia being so insistent on denying it. He really couldn't care less. Both Riz and Melone each have a secret stash of Monster energy in their rooms and both have accidentally stayed up all night more than once. Risotto because he is overworked as shit (poor boi) and Melone because he gets sucked into internet rabbit holes. Between the two of them Risotto is WAY worse though. This man has stayed up for DAYS on end. His record is two weeks without sleep. Sometimes other members of la squadra will deadass find risotto passed the fuck out at his desk. Whenever this happens, it's just a mutual agreement to leave him there (unless it's super important) and Prosciutto will take charge until he wakes up.

#la squadra #la squadra headcanons #proscuitto jojo #melone #prosciutto #risotto nero #formaggio #pesci #illuso #ghiaccio #jojo part 5 #jjba golden wind #jjba headcanons

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letarasstuff · 3 years ago

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Unbreakable Bond

(A/N): This is based on this post and this tiktok

Summary: A big age gap between Aaron's children doesn't have to mean that they are unable to form a strong bond

Warnings: Mentions of Haley's death and failed relationships

Wordcount: 1.8k

✨Masterlist✨

_________________________________

His life took turns Aaron never expected. It’s not the “Oh, mh, well that was unexpected”-type of turns, I talk about the “God played Cards Against Humanity with angels and decided to make it happen for someone”-type. But looking back he would not want to change a thing.

After Haley and Beth he was convinced that God, the Universe, something out there shared the opinion that romantic love isn’t the right thing for him and Aaron accepted that fact. Even more when he and Jack went into witness protection. I mean, when you are worried about the life of your family being in danger because of a stalker, you don’t think about the beautiful neighbor, who lives next door, right? Right?

Well, without going into too much detail, Hotch did think about her and she about him and vice versa. Everything went good until Aaron received the message that the team found the stalker and that it was safe to come back. He decided to come clean to his girlfriend. They talked about the possibility of moving back to Quantico.

In the end they decided in favor of the move, the final argument was the surprising announcement of her being pregnant. Hotch wants to raise their youngest where his and Jack’s roots are located. But he decides against taking a position at the BAU, instead taking a desk job in order to be more at home. He also has the opportunity to work from home after little (Y/N) was born and continues to do so until she is old enough to go to Kindergarten. Even then he takes two days the week where he stays home. Aaron learned from his decisions and mistakes he made in the past and wants to live up to them and be a better father and husband than before.

And Hotch keeps it to this day, six years later. It’s (Y/N)’s first day of school, while Jack just graduated high school and goes off to college in a few weeks. Even though they have an age gap from twelve and a half years, their parents are sure there are no other siblings with such a strong bond.

Ever since his baby sister’s birth Jack is her biggest supporter, protector and friend. Her first word was his name, though it was more of a “ACK!”, but that’s the best nickname he ever got. As soon as (Y/N) was old enough to comprehend the concept of movies, he introduced her to Star Wars. Since then lightsaber wars out of cardboard pipes are not uncommon. Last Halloween they even dressed up as Chewbakka and Han Solo. You get three guesses on who was who.

“JACK!” (Y/N) runs into her big brother’s room with an excited expression on her face. “Daddy promised to buy me a real lightsaber after I read ten books! With lights and sounds and all! Isn’t that cool?” Jack smiles. Aaron did a similar thing with him. For a certain amount of books he got a reward they discussed beforehand. This way he felt motivated to read and improved writing and reading skills.

“This is awesome. I think that means we have to go book shopping together, what do you think?” (Y/N) is not only the cool kid that has an older brother, she is also the cool kid, whose older brother has a drivers license, a car and a part time job. She nods with big eyes, speechless, because the offer sounds like heaven to her. Getting books and one on one time with Jack after he was really busy with school for weeks? This has to be heaven.

“Ok, then you put your outside clothes on and I’ll tell Dad about our plan.” At that the little girl rushes to her room, not wanting to waste any more time. Jack makes his way down to the kitchen, where Aaron wipes the table from lunch down.

“Dad, I take (Y/N) to this bookstore in DC and we’ll probably go eat ice cream after that. Is that alright?” Hotch looks up at his son. It still feels like yesterday as he told Haley that Gideon is a big no as a baby name. Now he is all grown up and just a few weeks away from the next big chapter in his life.

“Of course, just let me get my wall-” Jack cuts him off. “No need, I want to use this as a kind of goodbye thing. At least until Thanksgiving.” Aaron knows what he means. It’s his last day before he goes off to college and just a couple more until the first classes begin. The family still hasn’t told their youngest exactly what’s going on. Else she would refuse to go to school and go on with her day, insisting on using all the time they have until Jack drives off.

Two hours later the siblings leave the bookstore, both of them having a bag in their hands. Of course Jack's heavier, but both he and the cashier assured (Y/N) that they lift the same amount of weight.

“Uncle Spence will be excited when I tell him that I read Harry Potter, he told me so many good things about it”, the girl gushes. Jack nods, indicating that he is listening. Of course they also picked books that are not that advanced. Still, no sister of his shall grow up without knowing the beauty of the wizarding world. Also, secretly he is hoping for her to turn out as nerdy as he is so they get more things to talk about. His next step is superheroes, especially the Marvel ones.

They converse until they get to an ice cream parlor and order both their usuals. “Do you think you are ready for me to tell you something important?” The older one asks after they sit down at a table. (Y/N) nods, confusion taking over her face.

“Uhm, you know how I graduated from high school? I’m done with school, but I want to get a degree, but for that I have to go to college. It’s pretty far away so I can’t come home for a few months. But I’m back home when Thanksgiving is and also for Christmas.” It doesn’t matter what Jack says, a sad frown has formed on the little one’s face. “Oh. And after Christmas, will you leave again?” He nods and explains when he is off from college and when not.

“We can always skype and write letters. How does that sound? And when you get your first phone, we can even text.” That (Y/N) lights up a bit. For her first year of school she got a stationary set and is eager to use it to this day.

“I’m going to miss you so much”, she says hugging her big brother. Jack pats her back. “I’ll miss you, too.”

The goodbye the next day is a heartfelt matter. Everybody cries, especially (Y/N). She can’t fathom a scenario where her brother isn’t there for her all the time.

The following weeks are also hard for the family. The youngest refuses to sleep alone for the first three days after Jack’s leave. She is more closed off and mainly just does her school work or reads the books he bought for her. By the time Thanksgiving is only away for another two weeks, (Y/N) has read through all of them at least two times.

Her father already ordered the lightsaber he promised her. Unfortunately shipping takes several months, so the little girl still has to wait patiently for her reward to arrive. In the meantime she works on getting the next and she is already pretty close to the comic book collection she wants.

“Sweetheart, can you set the table, please? Your Mom will be here soon from grocery shopping and she will need help getting them from the car into the house”, Hotch calls for his daughter while stirring in a pot.

The little girl nods, putting her stationary set and pens aside to do as her father asked. She is in the middle of answering her brother’s last letter, telling him that she is now the one that usually has to read aloud for the class because of her advanced skill for a first grader.

Just as she sets the last piece of silverware down the doorbell rings. “Sweetie, can you please open it? This should be your mother.” Happily (Y/N) runs up and turns the door knob. Over the last few months she hit a small growing spurt and is finally tall enough to reach it without standing on her tippy toes.

“Mo-” She nearly chokes on her own saliva. The one at the door is definitely not her mother. “JACK!” (Y/N) runs up to him and jumps onto his leg. “Hey Princess. I thought now that you read your books, we need to hold the most amazing lightsaber fight in history.” With a mischievous smile he pulls two from his back, giving one to his baby sister.

It is the most epic fight in history between an elementary schooler and a college boy. They can only be stopped by their parents announcing that it is a tie between both of them and that they have to sit down, else the food gets cold.

The following weeks mostly consist of (Y/N)’s joyous laughs and cuddling with her big brother. She even insists on him sleeping with her in her much smaller bed. On his last night before going back to college, the little girl turns to him in the middle of watching her favorite movie in the living room.

“Do you promise not to forget me when you are away? Because I alway think about you and tell my friends so much about you. I told them you are a hero, my hero, just like Daddy. They wanna meet you because of that.” Jack has to hold back tears at her statement.

“I also think of you so much. All of my friends at college are pretty jealous of me having such a sweet baby sister. Maybe one time you can visit me and I can introduce you to them.” The thought of that makes (Y/N) smile and is a little consolation to the thought of her brother leaving again.

Aaron watches the interaction going down, happy to see the strong bond between his children, despite their age gap. This is nothing like he and Sean were and that is a relief for him and the worries he had in the beginning. It is a sign that he did do some things right as a father.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

#aaron hotch x child!reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #jack hotchner #jack hotchner x sister!reader #jack hotchner x reader #x daughter!reader #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotch #x child!reader

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jeffersonhairpie · 3 years ago

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OK I’m gonna post about Roman Roy’s name because that’s where I am this Tuesday evening

Connor, Kendall and Siobhan are all either Celtic or Saxon names, in some way related to the country in which Logan spent his early years, but Romulus is latin, the language of the great conquerors who came along and took control of Great Britain (NOT Ireland. Ireland was golden). He immediately stands out from his siblings because of this. But he’s not really a conqueror, and either way the Romans are long gone from the British isles now.

Then there’s the fact that it’s never entirely clear whether his name is Romulus or Roman. Most people seem to call him Roman, with Rome as a diminutive, but Logan fairly consistently calls him Romulus and occasionally Roman. Yes Connor shortens to Con and Kendall to Ken and Siobhan to Shiv but none of them have the same measure of uncertainty surrounding their names. The uncertainty in his name is a reflection of the uncertainty in Roman’s character. He doesn’t know who he is.

Even Caroline goes Roman rather than Romulus, so if the name on his birth certificate IS Romulus it’s ancient history to most of the family (see what I did there?). I could hypothesise for a whole day about why this is - did Caroline call him Roman and Logan Romulus and it was an expression of their duelling ownership over their son? Did Roman stamp his foot one day and decide he didn’t want to be called Romulus anymore? Did he stamp his foot and demand to be called Romulus and everyone laughed at him and did the exact opposite? The possibilities are endless. But it’s also possible that Romulus is to Roman what Pinkie is to Shiv - an extra little nickname from their father. Only Shiv is the supposed ‘favourite’ so her nickname is an expression of closeness, used when she and Logan are on good footing and Logan thinks something’s wrong with Roman so ‘Romulus’ is used to chastise as much as anything else. Like giving him a stronger name might toughen him up. I don’t know and I doubt the show will ever tell us but the possibilities intrigue me so much.

Getting into the nitty gritty - Roman and Logan are close to rhyming with each other. The ‘o’ and the ‘a’ are pronounced the same in each name with the same rhythm and stresses. It’s the same core sounds bracketed by different consonants. Logan didn’t name any of his kids after himself, he never really thought he was going to produce someone who was a worthy successor to his name, but he came the closest with Roman. Only in coming so close but missing the mark, Roman came out wrong. He wants to be just like his dad and to be seen to be just like his dad, probably more than any of the other siblings, but he’s a pathetic little slime puppy where Logan is the unflinching top dog.

And finally - If Logan and Roman are approaching being the same name, it’s not a patch on Rome and Rose. Just one letter difference, same vowel sound, same number of syllables. I can’t remember if Logan ever calls him Rome but if he does it’s not frequent, and the resemblance between those two names is too striking not to be deliberate, imho. Logan nearly named his youngest son after himself, and after his sister who must never be mentioned. Roman is supposed to be the future of the Roy empire, but he’s carrying the dead weight of family trauma with him. And I know all the Roy siblings are carrying family trauma with them and that’s what the show’s about, but it’s so much more present with Roman. Roman is the one who brings up the dog cage game, who insists it was awful or traumatic for him when his brothers try to brush him off and tell him he’s remembering it wrong, Roman is the one who everyone knows has been hit by their father but they play it off as a joke. We get hints at the specifics of the family traumas that have shaped Connor, Kendall and Shiv, but Roman’s is too raw and it bubbles to the surface every now and then because he cannot keep it down. Between the physical abuse and the dog cage and the incest jokes and whatever the fuck is going on with Roman and bathrooms I think it’s fair to say that there’s something Really Very Bad in his past, bad in a different way from what his siblings have been through, and it all starts with the fact that his father looks at him and sees the worst pieces of himself, his own trauma, the trauma his family went through. And he can’t fix Roman anymore than he can fix what happened to Rose, can barely bring himself to talk about it.

Roman is a poor reflection of Logan, an uncomfortably clear reflection of Rose, a man who lacks surety in himself and ‘wrong’ in a way that no one in the show really seems to get. And this is all me musing on a name and it’s absolutely not that serious and Succession loves to pull from classical references all the time so maybe that’s all this is but also? Maybe there’s something there

#roman roy #succession #takes a bow /s #shitty text post

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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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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years ago

Note

After that Jake-Mac-Rosa fic, you dropped this queen: 👑 Next time, a Jake-Mac-Holt piece?

Oh dang, THAT's where I left it. Thank you for that. 🤪

Grandpa Holt is always a pleasure to write, but let's try for some Dad Holt too...

"Is everything alright, Peralta?"

Jake has been sitting off to the side of the group for a while now, so Holt finds it necessary to inquire. He's not used to the eager detective being so closed off and quiet unless something is wrong, and nothing he can think of right now strikes him as 'wrong': they have been celebrating the end of a rather arduous case for Diaz and Boyle, and Peralta had been as helpful as he could be as a tertiary, which was not his preferred position at all. The first round at Shaw's had been paid by himself as Captain, obviously, and the next by Diaz, so Boyle has promised to shoulder the third, were it to happen. Ergo Peralta could not be thinking about his usual money problems, which have lessened anyway ever since Santiago took over his budgeting.

That means something else entirely must be 'wrong' in order for Jake to keep out of the conversation, only reply when he is mentioned by name, and drift off to a corner of the bar while the other congregate around the various game options of the room.

"I'm good, Captain, thanks." Jake answers with a smile and an obvious lie, so Holt doesn't even bother replying, just raises one of his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which he knows usually gets him results with Peralta. The ensuing sigh shows that it is still working.

"It's just..." Jake shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, another tell of his discomfort. "This is my first night out alone since the baby."

"Indeed." Holt replies. "I remember your phone call to Amy to inform her you would be back late today."

"Yeah." His hand is still on his neck, the other one clutched around his half empty beer bottle. "She told me to have fun. But..uh... I still kinda feel like I shouldn't be here."

"Do you think having a child robs you of autonomity? I know I am not speaking from experience, here, but it does seem to me like you are allowed to enjoy time away from your family, especially if your spouse insists you do."

"Getting drunk at a bar while my kid might be crying at home doesn't feel like the responsible thing to do, is all."

"Ah, I see." Holt nods, and he does see - he actually sees a lot more than what Jake might be trying to imply in his statement. He remembers how he used to self-medicate with alcohol in the past, after ending his relationship with that defense attorney, or even before, while feeling heartbroken over Santiago. He also remembers anecdotes about his father's drinking, not from Peralta himself, obviously, but from the rest of the squad, whenever Jake would cancel on a promised night out after Roger Peralta's visits. As much as Holt hates idioms, one of his most despised is probably 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', and Jake seems to fear it as well.

"Here is my solution, then, if you are willing to listen." Jake looks up at Holt as he's standing in front of him, and his hand drops from his neck. "You make the beer you are currently drinking your last for the night, and spend some quality time with your colleagues instead, enjoying a few parlour games, and then you head home at an agreeable time and still see your child before he falls asleep."

Jake grins and takes a sip of his beer.

"Sounds like a plan, Cap." He nods, and Holt doesn't ignore the fact that Jake has been using this shortened nickname for him a lot lately, and how eerily similar it sounds to 'Dad' in his voice.

(An hour later, he receives a picture on his cellphone from Peralta: The man himself, asleep on his couch, with his infant son equally asleep on his chest. Santiago must have commandeered his phone, and Holt is glad for it.)

-*-

"Grampa!"

The sound of that little voice echoes through the hallway as loudly as the ensuing footsteps, and Holt feels something warm and solid wrap around his legs.

"Hello, McClane." He smiles down at the little boy currently clutching his knees, and he smiles back before raising his arms in an obvious demand to be lifted up. Holt obeys it immediately.

He notices Mac looks surprisingly tired for an otherwise very energetic two year old, and Amy, who's now following him to Holt's side, looks equally exhausted.

"Good afternoon, Captain. I'm so sorry, I should've messaged you that I have to bring Mac in for an hour, the babysitter cancelled and the day care couldn't keep him longer than-"

"It is quite alright, Santiago. McClane knows how to behave himself at the precinct, right?" He gives the little boy in his arms a look, and receives a strong and eager nod in reply, the curls on his head bouncing back and forth. If anyone were ever to question Peralta's parentage, that alone would classify them as an imbecile. "I can watch him for the time being, if you have paperwork you need to get in order before leaving for the day."

"God, Captain Holt, would you- that would be so- I was going to ask Rosa, because I know she's at her desk-"

Amy seems far more frazzled than usual, and Holt realises that her regular schedule must be in quite a disarray, considering she has been a single parent for about a week now. Mac must not have been making it easy for her, either, nor must the baby currently growing in her stomach, which has started to show about a month ago, at which point they finally informed the squad about it (when everyone had already figured it out just like last time).

"RoRo!" Mac yells, happily, almost leaning out of Holt's arms, but he quickly hugs him tighter.

"Your aunt Rosa is working, McClane, and we should not interrupt her. We can spend the time in my office, and you can draw if you would like."

"Roro working." He echoes like a little parrot. "Like Daddy."

"That's right." Holt has learned from the parenting homepages he's visited that you are to encourage a child trying to talk and string together a coherent topic, no matter how long it might take.

"Daddy's working away." Mac continues, and out of the corner of his eye Holt sees Amy's forehead wrinkle in worry.

"Yes, your father is in New Jersey for the week to work on a special case." It's not a dangerous case at all, rather a boring standard task that happened to involve some out-of-state suspects, but Jake had still been trying to hand off that trip to anyone who might be willing to help him out. Seeing his son with bags under his eyes and his wife with stresslines around her mouth and her hand on her belly, Holt understands why.

"He comes back." Mac says next, and it is a statement, but the look in his eyes makes it a question, and Holt is quick to answer. He's glad that he has a definite answer to that, instead of the empty promises and assurances he sometimes has to make as the head of a police department.

"Yes, your father will be back soon. In two days, in fact."

Mac holds up two grubby little fingers, and Holt nods with so much fervor it surprises himself.

"Very good, that is two. Only two days and two nights until your father is back home." The worry in Mac's eyes seems to dimish a little at that as he stares at his own fingers. "If we go to my office, we can check on the calendar exactly how long that is." He barely waits for another nod before taking the diaper bag out of Santiago's hands, who whispers a quiet, but relieved "Thank you" to him. He understands again that it means far more than to thank him for taking care of the child for an hour so.

(If he uses that hour to assure Mac several times that no matter what, his father will always find a way back to him with far more emotion in his voice than he'd usually use, well, no one needs to know. Peralta certainly seems happy about the picture he sends him of Mac with his captain's hat behind his desk.)

-*-

"Congratulations." Holt's hand on his shoulder is heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and it gives a quick squeeze before dropping.

They've done the whole customary introduction to the newborn baby, the apparently necessary picture round, and now Kevin is having an amicable chat with Amy in her hospital bed. They've waited two days for their official visit, to give the new parents a chance to get at least a few of their bearings. (Holt was there merely an hour after the birth, of course, with the rest of the squad, but that was a moment of joyful chaos and many voices.) Now the room is filled with an almost serene quiet, Amy's and Kevin's voices low and comfortable in the background as Holt watches the man he truly considers a son hold up his new granddaughter.

"Do you want to hold her again? I know you already did for the photos but-"

Holt only nods and takes the infant out of his hands with perfect ease. He's more used to a wriggling toddler now, but he still clearly remembers the days when Mac was equally quiet and frail in his arms. The little one in them now is asleep amidst all that is happening, her tiny mouth open just a fraction, and he feels her arm bump against his chest while she seems to be having a dream.

"She is as perfect as her older brother, Jake."

"Yeah." Jake smiles, and there's nothing of that boisterous, loud, cocky detective grin left in it that he used to know. It is soft and kind and full of love, and it might be one of Holt's favourite expressions. "Amy did a superb job again."

"As did you."

"I'm sure I don't gotta explain this to you, Cap, but I didn't really do much." Jake jokes, and Holt can tell he's trying to divert the attention to a simpler topic, but sometimes things must be said.

"You do a lot, Jacob." He continues, then. "Far more than a lot of fathers do. Far more than many would expect of you. And you do it all perfectly right, with heart and determination."

Jake nods, swallowing down a lump in his throat, it seems, and it might be a step too far for his already emotional state, but Holt feels like it needs to accompany his accolades.

"I am very proud of you, son."

Jake is very obviously fighting back tears as he replies.

"Thanks, dad."

The little girl in Holt's arms stirs right at this moment, and Jake seems to want to interject immediately in fear that she'll start crying, but she simply stares up at Holt with impossibly big, brown eyes for the first time. And he realises, just as he did two years ago when Mac's little hand tightened around his finger for the first time, that there is a child in this world that he would literally do anything for. There are four of them now, even if two of them have not fallen under the category of a child for several decades.

"Hello, Maya." He says to the little face that seems to be inspecting him. "I'm Captain Raymond Holt. Your grandfather."

He looks up at Kevin and Amy, who've stopped their conversation while Amy is lifting her phone in their direction, and then at Jake, who's looking at Maya as well with shining eyes. Then he looks back down at Maya, stretching her arms out of her swaddle as if she's reaching for him.

"You are a very lucky little girl."

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #mac peralta #maya peralta #raymond holt #captain dad #my writing #ficlet

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Just One Mission (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Champagne’s Daughter!Reader)

Inspo: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw

Summary: Your father, Champ, runs Statesman, and you’re his best- and only- female agent. Your normal partner, Tequila, is out, leaving you with another agent. Normally this would be fine, but it’s with Whiskey, who practically ignores you, despite the fact that you’re crushing hard on him. You’re sent to the county fair to track an undercover bad guy under the guise of being a couple for your latest mission, and it starts to feel more and more like something is happening, not just between your fictional couple.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: language, obvious mentions of alcohol (this is Statesman after all)

A/N: Can I get a yeehaw for our favorite cowboy? Biggest of thank yous to @remmysbounty for helping me name this!

“You can’t be serious. Why can’t anything ever be straightforward around here? Why do I always have to go play make-believe?” You asked, pushing your glasses back up your nose to clarify his hologram. You move from where you stand, against the window showing the New York skyline, to walk towards the meeting table.

Champ gives a chuckle, as if he knows everything. Of course he does. He’s your boss and he never fails to make that known. “You came into this job knowing you’d be doing undercover work, Amaretto,” Champ says with a pointed look. You bite down on your lip to avoid cussing and look down to avoid his eyes. “Plus, you’re our best. And our only lady.”

“Whose fault is that?” you grumble, crossing your arms. Normally it doesn’t bother you much, but today you wished more women worked in the field. “Why can’t I go with Tequila? Him and I work well together, you know that,” you ask, hating your voice and your tone. You sound like a whiny teen complaining to her dad. Honestly, it was close enough, and maybe even worse: you were a fully grown woman complaining to her dad.

Your father, Champ, sighs and removes his hat. “For God’s sake, ‘Retto. Tequila’s mission has been extended. I’m sorry to tell you that Agent Whiskey will be your partner for just one mission, for one night.”

“Dad, I-”

“That’s Champ when you’re in here, Amaretto,” he chides, which makes you groan and plop down on an office chair, kicking your legs up onto the table and crossing them. “It’s a small mission. You can handle it. Whiskey’ll treat you right.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew you could handle it. You would be more than fine pretending to be Whiskey’s sweetheart for the evening. It was what came after that you didn’t want. You had known Jack for a while now, and had been hiding a crush ever since the man first entered your life.

You had been a Statesman ever since your father revealed to you that he wasn’t just the head of the Kentucky distillery- he was the head of a spy organization under the same name. Your career here hadn’t been long, but you were already proving that the skills must run in the family. You were the first female field agent, had a perfect mission record, and no unnecessary kills or injuries. That impressed Jack as much as the rest of the facility, maybe even more. You were a stunning and sharp woman with brains to match.

As much as Whiskey wanted to flirt with you, to tell you just what he thought of you, he held back. Your father held his job by a string. In order to hold back everything he thought, he kept a distance. You were the only woman in the company Whiskey didn’t flirt with. “He hates me,” you say sharply to your father, telling him what you really thought Whiskey’s opinion of you was. He complimented every woman around him, but he actively avoided you. When you had talked in the past, it was brief and he had always found an excuse to leave. How else could you take that?

“Prob’ly just jitters around the boss’s girl,” your father drawls, and you want to scream and shout and throw a temper tantrum. “Besides, you both have roles. Neither of you have to be yourself.”

Stopping you before you can launch into a rant, a knock comes at the meeting room door. You look and- speak of the devil- Whiskey peeks his head in, finding you alone in the meeting room. “Sorry. Heard ya talking, you in a meeting?”

Your father laughs as he hears the man’s voice. “Tell him to put on the glasses,” he tells you, only audible through your earpiece. You relay the message to him and once Jack’s glasses are on, he straightens a little, addressing your father. “Good to see you, Whiskey. Just telling Amaretto about the mission,” Champ tells him, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, that mission. Next week?” He asks, clarifying, eyes darting to you briefly before finding your father again.

“You got it.” A knock comes at the meeting room in Kentucky, and your father turns for a moment, then back to the two of you. “Ginger’s callin’. Talk to you later, darlin’, and you too, Whiskey.” He takes off his glasses and the image of him disappears.

You remove your legs from the table, swiveling your chair and removing your glasses. “How exciting, huh?” You ask dryly, eyes finding Whiskey’s. “The hottest week of the summer and he’s sending us to Alabama to spend a night outside.”

Jack chuckles a little, your sarcasm penetrating through the shield he has up specifically to deflect you. “At the county fair, no less. Couldn’t these idiots set up shop in a refrigerated warehouse?” He sighs, adjusting his hat.

Tearing your eyes from him, you look out of the impressive window instead. “Sure to be a fun time,” you shake your head. He looks so handsome, and it makes you want to punch something. “Why my father loves to put me in these situations, I’ll never know. He’d never do this to Julep,” you lament. “I must be the expendable kid.”

“Julep is 17,” Whiskey reminds you, raising a brow. “You’re the only one of age, and you’re probably the only competent one too. He showed me a video of Rosé at the gun range and good Lord, how the hell did a man like that birth something so clumsy?”

“Why do you know so much about my sisters?” You ask him, tilting your head.

“Your father never shuts up about ‘em. He shows them off constantly,” he shrugs. “Shows us videos, pictures. Even knew plenty about you before you came.” You raise an eyebrow at that, and he shakes his head quickly. “Barely anything personal. Hell, I don’t know your real name. He’s never called you or your sisters anything but your nicknames.”

You stand, gathering the folder you brought into the room with you. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’m not Champ’s daughter, I’m Agent Amaretto, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it,” you say, your voice slipping away from sharp and into flirtation. Whiskey’s deadpan slips into a smile and you press the folder into his chest as you walk past him, and out of the room. The smile grows wider as he turns to follow you.

Whiskey was right. It’s the hottest week of the summer, the August heat making you feel sticky and swollen, and you’re in Alabama. Disgusting. You look in the mirror and groan as you look at yourself. You were told that you and Jack need to blend into the atmosphere of the county fair, and you sighed.

The past week, the two of you had prepped for your mission, slowly melting the thick layer of ice that subdued both your crush and his flirtation. He had slowly slipped into his regular self around you, which you didn’t notice. You didn’t know the real him. You had become more of yourself too; less sharp, more smiles, even a few laughs at his terrible southern euphemisms and adages. He finally called you darlin’ and sugar and sweet thing, and you felt your face warm more than it should. You let your walls down by the time you got on the plane, joking around with him and making actual conversation. During the flight, the two of you had enjoyed picking cover names, deciding on Beau and Jolene Pruitt, a newly married couple. Both were native Alabamians with thick drawls, not that it would be out of character for Jack.

Getting to wear casual clothing around that man excited you far more than it should, and you had spent a stupid amount of time picking out something that would fit in but also look nice. The wardrobe women had packed you plenty of options to mix and match from, and you settled on something that seemed to be a mix between your cover and yourself. You wore short denim cutoffs, ripped and distressed, with cowboy boots to match. You also wore a white tank top and a red, white, and blue flannel, either to be worn open or tied around your waist. A large gold cross pendant rested on your cleavage, as many women around here similarly had. It was imperative that neither you nor Whiskey could be recognized, and you had been given a wig of thick hair the opposite of your natural color, plaited into two French braids that were long and ended around your waist. No mission was complete without your gold, wire-rimmed Statesman glasses.

You have to admit, you enjoy this look, minus the gaudy jewelry. You get to show off a little bit more than you normally would, and you secretly hope Whiskey may up his flirtation with you. You’re recognizable to someone who would know you, but the change of hair color and the glasses are a solid cover-up. You snap a picture in the mirror, sending it off to the ladies in the wardrobe department. you ladies spoil me- I love getting to look cute for a change!

The women reply a moment later with a picture of all of them. You’re always cute, sugar! Show that man what he’s missing!

So, maybe you had confided to the wardrobe ladies that you found Jack attractive. Who didn’t? They agreed, but all showered you with attention and insisted you should make a move on this mission. You had said no, but they had hounded you over and over until you told them yes. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

A knock comes at your hotel door, and you smile before you can stop yourself. You force yourself to drop it, tossing one of the braided tails over your shoulder, and open the door. “Well there, Beau,” you drawl as you see Whiskey, but you stop and laugh a little as you scan his body.

His reaction is the exact same, after a brief scan of your outfit. You both break into laughter. Jack is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel with a different pattern but the same colors- red, white, and blue. “Stealing my thunder with the outfit, I see. Are you going to put your costume on or what?” You ask teasingly, and he shakes his head.

“Believe it or not, Jolene, this is my costume. Seems the only different thing about being Beau is my name.” He grins wide at you, adjusting his similarly gold-rimmed aviators that rest beneath his classic Stetson.

You shake your head but smile. “Why am I not surprised?” You tease, turning and grabbing your phone and the large bulletproof purse you’d be carrying tonight. “The ladies in the wardrobe department are going to love this,” you chuckle, and then freeze for a second.

They did this on purpose.

Whiskey has the same thought as you. He had confided in the ladies in the wardrobe department that he found you absolutely stunning but unattainable, due to the fact that your father was the control of his… everything. They had chattered excitedly, telling him that he should make his move on the mission too. He had done the exact same as you- said yes, but as an appeasement. “Well, they sure are. We’ll have to get someone to take a picture of us while we’re there.”

You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he wants a photo of this. It’s just for the mission, of course, you tell yourself and brush it off. “Oh, and that’ll be perfect cover. Of course these two would want a photo taken of them. We can do it right in front of the marks- better yet, we can ask them to take the picture,” you chuckle happily and sling the heavy purse over your body.

“Or we can take a picture now,” he chuckles, nodding to the mirror you just took a picture in a moment ago.

“Sure,” you nod and lead him over to it. “Uh… smile?” You laugh and hold out your flannel for the photo. Jack makes finger guns and gives the camera a seductive face in the mirror, making you laugh. “Jesus, I thought you were the smooth agent.”

“Smoother than you. You’re smooth like a gravel road in a dry spell, look at that pose,” he says and zooms in on the picture. “Pose like you have some confidence in that pretty little head, honey,” he teases. “Copy me.” He makes the same pose, and you mimic it, taking a picture before bursting out laughing. “Much better,” he nods as he looks at the image. “Better send me that,” he nudges your side before walking to the door. “Well, Jo, let’s get this show on the road.” Smiling at the picture, you send the image to the wardrobe ladies. very subtle, Charlotte! You fire off before pocketing your phone and following him along. “Aw, Jo and Beau,” you coo, your personas snapping into place as soon as you leave the hotel room, clutching his arm.

The two of you meander down through the hotel, finding your way to the parking lot. You break away from him to sit in the Bronco (of course he brought it) but you find yourself missing the contact of your arms intertwined. It’s probably for the best though, you think to yourself. If you have to keep touching him all night, it’s quite possible the Alabama heat may melt whatever’s left of the iceberg you’ve built to hold back your crush on him.

A man bumps into you, and Whiskey is at your defense before you can defend yourself. “Watch it, cowboy,” Jack fires back, his hand resting on the small of your back. You smile up at him, practically making heart eyes. It looks in character, and you’re glad for that, but it’s entirely you.

“My hero,” you giggle and place your hand on his chest.

“Just for you, sugar,” he says sweetly and you beam up at him. He looks around, as you do, but the two of you rest there. It’s hot, unbearably, but yet you enjoy the contact your body makes with his. Both of you wear your flannels around your waist, allowing your grip on his arm to hold his strong muscles directly. It’s definitely enjoyable. “You hungry, honey?” He asks.

You have to admit, you haven’t eaten much today, mainly out of nerves for the mission. But everything is going just swimmingly: you have eyes on the target, have a plan to infiltrate them later, and are now just biding time to seem normal. “I… yeah, I am,” you nod and look up at him. “How ‘bout some cotton candy?”

“Now, darlin’, if you’re hungry, that ain’t gonna do the trick,” he says and raises an eyebrow, removing his aviators and hooking them on his collar. “This is the county fair, for cryin’ out loud. Let’s get you something deep fried.” You nod in agreement and the two of you wander over to a stand selling various deep-fried atrocities. You smile and chuckle, letting him order for the two of you. The vendor hands you each a ridiculously large corn dog, and you laugh.

The smell of the food makes your stomach growl. “Oh god, I didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” you moan as you bite into the food, your thick accent dropping. “Good choice, babe,” you tell him, smiling at how easily it comes.

“I know you, sugar,” he teases, leading you to a picnic table where he sits across from you, munching on his own. No one else is around here, allowing you to speak freely. “Really, I do. I found out your real name the other day,” he says with a smile, and you nearly choke on the breading, halfway down your throat. He finally says your name aloud, drawing it out, making it sound like it’s coated in honey and dripping with flirtation.

You look down at your food, biting your lip. “Who told you that?” you ask, still staring down.

Jack chuckles at that, ignoring the question. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he teases, and you chuckle, shaking your head. The flirtation is much better than the stone-cold silence before a week ago, but it doesn’t do anything for the growing crush you have on the man. “Champ must’ve known you’d be a stunner.”

“Have you heard of nominative determinism?” you ask as you look up, tilting your head and twirling one of the long braids of your wig around your finger. The words sound funny with the thick accent you’re putting on. Whiskey shakes his head. “It’s this theory that your name shapes who you become. So, if you said that my name was chosen for beauty, I would grow to become my name, so I’d be beautiful.” He nods a little at that. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” you ask him genuinely, tilting your head and taking another bite of the corn dog.

“Clearly,” he chuckles through a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “Your name is pretty, you’re pretty. Someone has a name with a bad reputation, they become it.”

“Your mama named you Jack Daniels, you become Agent Whiskey,” you tease with a growing smile, accentuating that drawl that you’ve perfectly picked up from your father and the mustached man in front of you. “I’ve thought about that a lot with you. Did they assign you that name because of your name? My dad never talked about work with us before I became an agent.”

Whiskey shakes his head at you but does give a laugh. “Prob’ly, just thought it’d be funny, I ‘spose. They needed a new Agent Whiskey anyway, I believe. Last one died or retired, they never told me. Filling the vacancy while making a pun out of it. Your father has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? ‘S sure great at givin’ nicknames.”

You shake your head at that. “Don’t I know it. He’s been calling me Amaretto since I could give him sass back. Told me I was a little bitter, just like the word means in Italian. Julep’s too sweet, Rosé is a mix of gentle and bold. No one calls us by our real names unless we’re in trouble,” you chuckle. “You should hear my mama shout when Julep gets in trouble. She nearly shakes the house, and Julep likes to avoid it by pretending she can’t hear her. She’ll hide in her room, and my mama just shouts and shouts until the neighbors come over to make sure the family’s all still alive. It’s in a loving way, of course, nothing bad.” You shake your head, clearing the topic from yourself. “But it’s like your mama knew you’d get into something with alcohol. That’s odd.”

Jack chuckles and takes the last bite of his food. He doesn’t respond, just cleans up his little area and waits for you to be done, watching you with his chin resting in his palm. You smile as you notice that, looking away, and he does too. The two of you stand and walk along again. He offers his hand, to hold it, and you take it. You’re not entirely sure that he did that as Beau, and you’re certain you didn’t take his hand as Jolene.

Walking through the midway, you catch your mark out of the corner of your eye. “Go time,” you murmur to the man, dropping his hand. “Sir,” you ask and pat the man’s shoulder as he walks past. He stops and you shoot him a cheesy, massive grin. “Hi there, would you mind takin’ a picture for my husband and I?”

The man nods. “Sure, ma’am. Where do you-”

“Oh wonderful. Here,” you say and position the man, handing him your phone, then move back to stand by Jack. “Beau, honey, here,” you say as you position the two of you for the camera. You wrap his arm around your waist and place your hand on his chest, grinning ear to ear. He’s doing the same.

“How ‘bout this?” he asks, swooping you up and holding you bridal style.

You squeal into his ear, laughing. You almost call him by his real name but stop yourself. “Beau, quit!” You giggle and smack his chest teasingly, playing along with it and smiling for the photo. He lets you down only to pick you up again, hoisting you onto his back, piggyback style. Finding no other choice, you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he rests his hands on your thighs to hold you up. “Beau Pruitt!” You exclaim, emphasizing the words, hoping that the man taking your photos registers the name, knowing it’s not someone threatening. He’d probably take your phone and run if he heard you call the man holding you up by his real name.

He finally lets you down and you thank the man, taking the phone back and continuing to walk along, naturally lacing your fingers through Jack’s. “What was that?” you ask lowly, smiling despite the pretend annoyance in your voice.

“Playin’ the part, sugar,” he shrugs and smiles at you. As you wander through the midway, Jack’s eye catches on a brightly colored, massive teddy bear hanging from the rafters. When Jack gets a plan, he goes all in. “You know what, honey, if this is to be a proper date, I am gonna win you a teddy bear,” he chuckles, grabbing his wallet.

You quickly push the hand holding his wallet down. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. I don’t need a teddy bear,” you laugh.

“I am takin’ you on a date to the county fair. It’s only fitting that I win you a teddy bear!” He argues back, laughing. He hands a bill to the attendant, earning him quite a few balls to toss at the stacked milk jugs. “Here we go. This is for the big, tie-dye one up there,” he declares before hurling a ball.

It hits the top jug and Jack winces. “Ah fuck. Bad shoulder,” he chuckles, picking up another.

“Then why the hell are you doing this, Beau?” you ask, catching yourself before you can call him Jack and holding down his arm. “I don’t need the teddy bear!”

“I already paid the attendant,” he chuckles and leans in to your face, taunting you. He uses your distraction to slip his arm from your grasp, throwing it and hitting the second row of bottles. “Hell yeah!” Jack crows excitedly, arms in the air. You laugh at his excitement and decide to let it happen. He throws three more balls before he knocks down the whole final row, whooping excitedly. “That one, if you please,” he tells the attendant and points to the large bear hanging from the ceiling of the booth. The attendant takes it down and hands it to him, and he promptly hands it to you, beaming. “For you, my dear,” he says, pride radiating from him.

“I love it,” you laugh and hug the massive bear to your chest, kissing its forehead. “I think I’ll name him… Whiskey.” He grins at that and takes your hand again, leading you through the crowd.

The rest of the night passes more like a date would than a mission. You and Jack converse happily, simply avoiding real names but talking like you would between friends. His hand rests in yours the whole night, and you enjoy it. The sun begins to go down and the humidity lessens, as does the stifling heat. It’s almost cool now; the both of you wear your flannels properly now, unbuttoned in the front. You munch contently on some cotton candy you finally convinced Jack to buy, even feeding him some to further your ruse. Sighing, you look around and take in the absolute perfection that is this tiny county fair. The sunset is beautiful and the lights of the carnival section are starting to come on. You start to speak until you hear a too-familiar voice through your earpiece.

“Amaretto, Whiskey. They set up shop in the pig barn, but they’re at their most vulnerable. Time to move.” You both groan as you hear your father’s voice. You look down at your interlocked hands between the two of you, then up quickly, remembering. Your father can see what you see with these glasses on. His voice comes in through your earpiece alone now. “See, I told ya it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a little time with Whiskey. I’ve noticed you’re not hating it.”

You shake your head and pull out your earpiece, tucking it in your pocket and murmuring a curse to your father. Jack notices and you simply shrug. “Wasn’t working right. You’re gonna have to relay the messages for me.”

He nods then pauses, listening. He chuckles and turns to you. “He says to put it back in, he knows you can hear him just fine.” You groan and put it back in with a frown. “Next time you want to have family dinner, count on one less plate,” you hiss through the piece, making both Jack and your father laugh. “Whatever, get us to the pig barn then.” Your father guides the two of you through your mission. They’re indeed at their weakest, just four men loading their van with their backs to you. Luckily, they’re the four that Statesman wants. You and Whiskey each easily take out two, leaving them tranquilized on the ground. “Pops, they’re good. Send in the recon van.” A few moments later, the van rushes in through the utility door, and two recon members load the men into the van. You and Whiskey give them a nod, smiling at them and thanking them before leaving the barn.

The voice comes through on just your earpiece again. “Take the rest of the night off. I know you want to.”

He’s right, you do want to, and so for once, you listen to your damn father. “The rest of the night is up to us,” you say as you turn to Whiskey, removing your earpiece and your glasses and putting them in your bag. You reach for his earpiece, taking it out too, both of you almost shivering at the contact of your wrist to his cheek as you take it out. Jack catches your palm and plants a kiss to it and you grin. “Would you like to stick around, maybe go on some rides?” you ask and put away his earpiece before sliding your hand into his. “As Whiskey and Amaretto?”

Jack grins at you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The rest of the evening is spent on rides and eating ice cream, getting squished into Jack’s side on the Scrambler and flipped around on the Slingshot. You both laugh practically all night, overjoyed. You check your watch and look up excitedly, eyes lighting. “The fireworks are gonna go off in ten minutes.” You look at the wait for the ferris wheel- it’s about as long. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel to watch it.”

Jack nods. “Whatever you say, sugar,” he nods, lagging for a moment as you start to run to the next ride, then catching up and pulling you into his chest, kissing your head. You laugh at the feeling of being trapped in his arms and wrap your arms around him too, allowing the bear hug to last a moment longer than it should.

The both of you wait in line for a few minutes, continuing the conversation you’d been having before.

The line eventually shortens enough for the two of you to get on, and you sit, hands on the lap bar. Whiskey sits next to you, draping his arm across your shoulders. You look up at him and smile, scooting into his side. You give a little whoop of excitement as the ride starts moving, and you jump at a loud bang.

You timed it perfectly.

The sky lights with different colors, a variety of fireworks lighting off and illuminating the dark night sky. The stars are clear all the way out here, in the middle of Alabama, and you beam at the image. You pull out your phone to snap some pictures but Jack holds your hand down. “The pictures never do it justice, darlin’. Just look up at those and remember ‘em real hard.” Laughing softly, you rest your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watch. It’s stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and you look at Jack for a moment to find he’s not watching the sky, but has his eyes trained on your face, watching your reaction.

The moment is perfect. He can handle the rejection, he decides, if he has to, but he has to move now. “Can I kiss you, Amaretto?” He murmurs quietly, his face already moving close to yours. You give an answer in the form of a gesture: taking his face in your hands and closing the gap. The kiss is perfect, his soft lips tasting of the cotton candy you finally persuaded him to buy a few hours ago.

He sighs softly, his hand finding the side of your face as well. He breaks away for a moment and looks at your lovely face, grinning at the way your eyes reflect only his face, the dark night sky, and the colorful fireworks. “I think your pops named you wrong. Furthest thing from bitter. You’re the sweetest, most perfect thing I ever did taste,” he drawls before closing the space again, pressing his lips to yours. Your heart pounds in time with the bursts in the sky, erratic and loud, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve been crushing on since the moment your father introduced you to the Statesman.

A particularly loud firework startles you and you jump, breaking your kiss and grinning at him, the adrenaline from both the scare and the kiss pounding its way through your body. You look at him and want to say something but can’t find the words. You simply giggle and look into his eyes, making him laugh too. You sit there for a moment, laughing, while the ferris wheel stays stationary. As it moves, you cling to his chest again, looking up and beaming at him. “Kiss me again, cowboy,” you demand, and he chuckles.

“Any time, sugar,” he says with a smile as he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you again.

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