#but my grandpas apparently coming up to visit AGAIN at the end of this month and i dont think i can get away with the 'oh im sick' excuse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

britcision · 1 year ago

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Family death mentions ahead friends

So one of the things I learned in the arrangements for my grandmother’s funeral is that their local priest remembers me

Pretty sure I only ever met him once; he moved in long after we’d left the country, and when I went back for visits church was not a part of them

He was the one who did my grandfather’s funeral

That was an interesting time, and the first time I noticed I am actually dogshit at handling things emotionally; emotionally, I’m usually fine. Sad, tired, got a key on depression, but never what you’d call the depths

No, all of those things get autorepressed before I know they’re there, so my disabled ass processes everything physically

0/10, do not recommend this. I don’t even know what’s stressing me out half the time, I have a crazy flare and have to reverse engineer what’s wrong around that

So I was, y’know, even less disposed to socialising than you might think around Grandpa’s funeral

Didn’t go to the wake, didn’t really talk to anyone. I wrote something for him and I read it in the service, and then we went to see the hole and pour his ashes in

My grandparents lived around the corner from that church before I was born; their direct garden neighbour is the graveyard, and they used to get to church through a pair of abutting doors that led from their garden to the priest’s garden, and then immediately into the graveyard

So when I told the family to go on without me, I’d head home, well, there was no real hesitation

(I do know the legal way around, the new priest wasn’t keen on strangers coming through the garden but I suspect Granny converted him before the end

But I am the grandchild Most Likely To Just Go Hop The Graveyard Fence)

And I sat there for a while, mostly just existing

And the priest came over to see to things, because everyone else had left and he saw them go, and he didn’t think I’d be there

He offered to come back later, but it was fine. It needed to be done, and I wasn’t doing anything that would be affected by it

He warned me a couple of times that it could be hard for people, and he really could just come back, but it was fine

I helped him step down my grandfather’s ashes for when the next person would be interred

(It’s a very old graveyard and while not 100% full as far as I know, they did have a special paved garden where you could pick which stone to have your ashes under along with anyone else in the parish

Very communal, you get all mixed in. As you may suspect, this is not a church holding stock in bodily resurrections)

And we talked a bit about the garden and how that all worked, and I helped fill in the hole and stole a stone

And that was the first and last time I met him

He asked if I’d be okay to go home on my own, and I did not tell him I could just hop the fence. I went around in the street like a good adult and everything

And that was the only time I ever met him

But when they were arranging my Granny’s funeral last month, apparently he mentioned he remembered me

I couldn’t be there this time, being both devoid of an immune system which makes air travel and the UK specifically dangerous as hell, and also sick with some stupid little cold of my own that has lasted a month and will not leave or let me sleep

(Not COVID, I checked, and a round of antibiotics ALMOST kicked it on its head… and then two days ago nope we’re back to up every couple hours because I can’t breathe)

I wrote something for my mother to read, but it just… never occurred to me that he would remember me

The old priest there knew me since before I could walk (I suspect he has passed), and was party to both good and bad childhood stories

This new guy was younger than my parents, we met once and I don’t think we’ll ever meet again, but I have been repeatedly told that I make an impression, even when I’m not trying to

I guess some people are not up for a peaceful chat about death rights while burying their loved ones, but I just…

I’m not sentimental about what is left behind

The important part is what has left, and the body itself needs to be dealt with

He was my grandfather, and it made sense to me to help put him to rest

To do the last thing I ever could with his earthly remains and make sure he was interred with love

It’s apparently not something I should ask anyone to do for me when I’m done, but I don’t mind that. I won’t be there, and I’m not really worried about what happens to the meat that occasionally consented to do what I wanted it to

It is possible that growing up playing chase in a graveyard and nicking shiny stones off the graves gives you a somewhat skewed view of death, but I’d have to talk to my older siblings more to be sure

(I don’t know if the priest even knows I have an older sister. She might have visited their area on her honeymoon, but all the relatives she stayed with only had horror stories to share with me later

She didn’t come for our grandfather’s funeral when my brothers and I did

She doesn’t care about anything but her husband and now her kid, but in a very… obvious way

She barely spoke to any of them

She flew out to see our Granny before she passed with her baby for a day or so, which personally I agree is a better call than going to the funeral, but I dunno if she would have seen him - she could be flying completely under the radar)

I guess I’ve just been thinking about the imprint we leave behind when we’re gone

As a family we tend towards being loud, obvious, and usually weird (on one side - the other tends towards loud, gregarious, and aggressively organising events)

I met that guy once, for probably no more than twenty minutes after the hour long service

He’ll probably never have cause to think about me again in his life, unless he tells that story

But I’ll always know him as the priest who moved in and asked the nice little old lady behind not to cut through his yard, entirely unknowing that she would in fact be organising every church do for the next two decades and would be a stranger for about another week tops

And apparently he remembers me staying behind, chatting about death and interment while we poured the dirt back into the hole and squashed it down until the stone could fit snugly again

We did discuss how many people it would take for it not to go down properly, but they do have a plan in place - that’s why they rotate the stones, so they have about the same volume of people under them

I don’t know if my grandmother was cremated

If she was, it was three days before Bonfire Night, and they just barely missed the very funniest funeral possible, but I don’t think the family will be ready for that observation for a few more years at least

If she was, I don’t know if they’ll put her under the same stone

I think I asked if you could make requests, but it’s been a long time; I don’t remember the answer

There will be a couple extra tenants in there with them, if they do, which would make her very happy. She was a compulsive host all her life

You also don’t exactly get only your own loved one’s ashes back from the crematorium

I think you can make a special request and pay extra, but it is much less energy efficient to cool and clean the oven between each body

You just sort of get the sweepings at the end of the day, portioned out between everyone

You can also have your ashes specially compressed and turned into a diamond at a different company or all sorts of other things, but you need a lot of ash to make a very small diamond because the key word there is “compression”, along with “heat”, “pressure”, and “extreme”

It may be worth storing more than one person’s worth of ash to make something more notable

There would be something poetic in having your ashes mixed with your partner’s into a single stone for the rest of eternity

I do sort of want mine to be tossed off a tall building in a wind storm though, so that’s for the rest of y’all

Organise the polycule and go for a statement piece

But do put one of those anti moisture bags in with the ashes while you’re waiting for everyone else to go, because the brick would probably be harder to ship by weight

It is entirely possible that I’m just weird about death all on my own, honestly

But if the worst thing some people can imagine is there being just… nothing at all, you just stop existing, that sounds pretty good to me

Like my Granny, I am also a compulsive entertainer - I’m pathologically bad at just sitting and hanging out at peoples’ houses. We have to be going somewhere, doing something, have some form of outside stimuli

Even just “you’re with everyone you love having a wonderful time forever and ever” sounds exhausting

Living is hard, people are hard, and I have ADHD so I guarantee I will find a way to get sick of eternity even with all the wonders of the universe to explore

All I want is peace and the chance to just stop

Failing that, I nominate we all build the tumblr island as whatever lies beyond and develop post-vital memes that will take decades to bring the newly dead up to speed on

#death #family death #funeral rights #funeral #cremation #long post #imma blame sir pterry but death has never frightened me #it may be the passive suicidality but i’m kinda looking forward to it #if i gotta pay taxes afterwards i am going to fucking riot capitalism will NOT follow me beyond the grave #in memoriam

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chitaqua-toast · 2 years ago

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This is also how I ended up with nearly 40 chickens in the end.

I loved having chickens in my 20’s. My son’s service dog was a great pyr and preferred being in the yard with my grandfather’s ducks & geese after he had to move in with us. I had chickens four times during those years. Every time, something managed to get into the enclosures and/or my chickens would do something asinine like climb into the water during a freeze. Grandpa told me “if you want three layers, buy at least ten chicks, it’s just the way it is”.

When I moved out to take over the care of his property, I brought my last surviving chicken with me, who had been moved into the house and thought she was a parrot.

A year into living in the middle of nowhere, I come back for a visit and one of my first chickens saunters into the neighbor’s yard looking big & beautiful. Apparently she had gone for a walk & that kept her alive when something came through and took out a whole batch in one night. So. She came to live with us, too. But she didn’t get raised indoors, so she lived outside.

After my Baby Girl passed (parrot chicken), Big Girl (walkabout) was sent to a family friend’s flock where she wouldn’t be alone. She spent the rest of her days there, and I was hurting too much to try again.

Almost two decades later, I told my aunt I wanted to get chickens on the property again. She and my uncle were now living there, as well, so we talked about it. A couple chickens like Daddie used to have, and eventually a couple ducks and a guard goose.

A couple days later, she gets a call from a friend. He lives in the boonies and heard screaming. Came out to find one of the mountainside’s feral hens had been eaten and a full clutch of chicks were hiding. He brought me six chicks in a box, nestled into a work shirt. I had planned to get specific breeds, so I told my aunt I’d be ordering another six off a good breeder. They sent two extras in case of loss in transit. They’d been out of two breeds I really wanted, but I found those at the feed store, so I grabbed one of each. Figured if those two passed, I could go get another pair.

YALL. I ONLY LOST ONE. I NOW HAD 13 CHICKENS.

And then they hit breeding age.

And a supremely docile giant of a roo was dumped in our yard.

And there were SO MANY eggs and SO MANY chicks.

…I had “failed” to mention to my family that I don’t like eating eggs. Eating them causes me stomach cramps. I just wanted chickens because I love chickens. They’re amazing. They’re awesome pets. They’re goofy little feather puppies. They can do tricks. They lay a hell of a lot when you have 20+ hens.

I couldn’t GIVE AWAY eggs in my tiny town. 🤣

There were three other families with established flocks. No one needed eggs. So once a month, I would load the trunk of my friend’s car with eggs and her back seat with my stuff & my dog, and visit my friends in the city. After a few days, I’d be driven back with a trunk full of feed & groceries.

The one time I was able to deal with eggs without money, I swapped two full flats for a beekeeper’s amazing local honey & comb.

I don’t have chickens anymore. I broke my leg 3ish years ago and while I was in a hospital for recovering mobility, my uncle gave away my entire flock.

I’ve never forgiven that and I never will.

Y’all, I’m over here DYING cuz Google suggested me this article about the crisis of backyard chicken keepers– which is that they love having chickens so much that they keep getting more, and then don’t know what to do with all the eggs.

Which I can see how this would be a problem, but it’s just so funny to me because they had interviewed this one guy who started off with 3 chickens, and then kept adding more and more, and eventually started donating the eggs to a local food bank, and at the end of the year when they wrote him a tax receipt, he discovered he’d donated over 400 dozen eggs.

Seriously, it was a whole article talking very seriously about how people are so into chickens that they just keep collecting them like pokemon and then have to “scramble” (their words not mine) to get rid of the eggs, because they weren’t even thinking of egg production, they just loved having chickens.

And while I may be over here laughing a bit too hard, honestly? Big Mood.

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

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that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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peralta-guaranteed · 4 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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ginkgomoon · 4 years ago

Text

Victor and the Time Observers- Analysis

It’s finally here! This post is based on a question asked about the Time Observers and what their relations with Victor was! I deeply apologise to the anon for this response taking too long. I wanted each of my posts to be able to reach a standard where it’s adequate enough to satisfy me and most importantly the readers. Contains lots of spoilers, please do not read if you would not like to be exposed to future content! Here we go! ⏱

The Observer Effect definition-

"The observer effect is the disturbance of an observed system by the act of observation."

Who are the Time Observers?

“What is “intervention”, “correction”, “destiny”? Can we really figure out the mystery behind it?”

The Time Observers is an independent third party under the Space and Time Administration. They can travel through time and even tap can even tap into multiple universes/dimensions, such as when seeing MC in Behind the Curtain and when she travels to another universe in the Winter World. They are seen to be using pocket watches as their transportation tickets to other worlds in each timeline.

They were there in the 1908 White House explosion- where Evol was created, where to which Lucien states, “from then on, many futures have already been decided”. This was due to a comet hitting Earth which created a mini-black hole at the same time from the attack of an American hacker who could transmit data through laser pulses. Grandpa Chuck, the original Helios, and the Time Observers were all there. Soft piano music can be heard when they appear.

“Please stop spreading information about the explosion. Your actions have already affected the progress of this world. Someone has become aware of our presence.”

Victor: “Your people aren’t the only ones who can alter the future, Time Observer.”

“You misunderstand. We never alter, we are correctors of history. We want you to join us, your power’s scope of influence has already surpassed the dimension of this current world. Before you are rejected by it…”

Victor: “I will not leave this world.”

“Even if you’ve seen the future of what is all to pass?”

Victor: “No matter what happens, the person I’m seeking for is right here.” -Chapter 6 Black Curtain

Space and Time Administration

“You’re becoming more like the Victor I am familiar with.”

"Really, what’s he like?”

“Powerful enough to control anything… including time.”

The Space and Time Administration is an observation agency independent of all forces. They are noted for not having a guide or workbook- they just know what to do through their observations day by day. Their work is to observe and note statistics of time changes in the timelines, and the butterfly effect that each one produces. (Apparently more than 90% are negative.) Ultimately, their goal to stable the operations of the different worlds on all timelines.

Since Victor’s Evol is strong and has the capability to do more than the Time Observers, he is the one who is deemed the most suitable and more responsible for “grasping the time in the past and the future”. Ever since STF found out about Victor’s Evol, they wanted him to cooperate with them too, because every time he stops time, certain surrounding energy and space changes.

The organisation also entertains the idea of fate, and how things should be refused to be changed. Since they have “seen the future of how the world ends”, they want Victor in cooperating with them in making it stop. Nobody can rewrite the ending among them, except him. Victor refuses to joining because he doesn’t adhere to this idea.

“QUEEN’s return has brought unexpected consequences; the entire collapse of the world is ahead of schedule. The world’s line has come to an end, no matter through time or space, we can no longer interfere in this world.” Was there a difference in letting each world go to the end alone to close all the world lines in the future directly?

Victor: "But since the responsibility of the Space and Time Administration is to prevent the person who rewrites the world ending, don’t you think I am this kind of person? Moreover, the existence of time is objective, but the negative effects are subjective. I doubt 90% of your statistical results.”

"Nobody can maintain the critical value of the stable operation that each world line has reached. Everyone thinks they have done it. In the end, destruction is coming. We are not looking for anything, we are just waiting, waiting for what should happen when it comes to happen.”

ZERO

“In 1908, there was an explosion at the White House in the United States. There were no casualties, but the people there testified that there was no explosion.”

Amongst them, there was a man who looked familiar, but Victor couldn’t remember whether he had met him somewhere or not. He was gripping a pocket watch. Then, the young man left the spot.

The Time Observer Zero in the organisation is one most familiar with Victor, and had observed Victor travel through multiple timelines, consoling with him about his “failures”. He sympathises with him as he believes that the fate of the world cannot be changed, even if Victor tires himself to try otherwise.

“Now the world line is collapsing one by one, we’re running out of time. We can tell you where she is now.”

Time Observers can seemingly also allow others to see into different worlds too, almost how Grandpa Chuck can create and travel into different pocket glass dimensions, but not permanently enter inside. Zero personally lets Victor in.

“You should be aware of the consequences for doing this.”

“I said, my purpose is only one.”

Victor’s tone revealed unquestionable certainty. Zero willingly approached him with his hands stretched out to him.

“However, other matters are my own decision.” -Chapter 18 Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 33-34 Rumours and Secrets

"I’m wondering what happened in the in between- is it the decision of time or is someone interfering?”

He had told me that there was a group of people in the world waiting on various timelines to revise history.

“But amending the fact that has been changed, is it a course of “correction”, or just another “change?”

“But in any case, the end point of all timelines points all the same -this has not changed from the beginning.”

“Her destiny is tied to all timelines and she must walk into the only ending with this world.”

"You are also different.”

Although we found a breakthrough, this situation really caused us a lot of headaches: she who should not have survived and she should not have been sent to other worlds. As a result, it would seriously interfere and disrupt the timeline. No one had done it before, and no one except Victor could do it.

In disbelief, we weighed it and threw the olive branch- as long as he is willing to cooperate, we will help him find her. As decisive as he was to refuse a few times before, this time he had promised me without thinking. And for a moment, I didn’t know if his decisiveness was good or bad.

Once they had seen that MC was able to defy all odds in coming back alive and en route to becoming QUEEN, they were willing to fully accept Victor's decisions and perseverance on MC and why she was so important to saving their world, instead of him.

Chapter 35-36 Rumours and Secrets

Occasionally, Victor would visit the organisation and observe his hometown world, before Judgement Day. They watch as other worlds collapse and fade away.

Time is best at consuming people’s patience. He will understand that in accordance to the next decade, a century, a thousand years, that the world is just one of our many observation objects. At the end of limitless time- the only thing we can’t do is to change the past that doesn’t belong to us.

Victor doesn’t care about this price- he is more concerned with whether he can prevent the death of the girl in every unpredictable future.

"At least only in the Space and Time Administration can you repair your abilities. This, you know better than me.”

“But you can be rest assured that even if you still intend to return to that world after the deadline, the time flow rate there is a month. But if you stay here, you can continue to look for that ending.”

At that moment, full of hope and courage, I crossed the timeline again without hesitation. This time, he accepted Zero’s invitation.

The white crown slowly fell on the girl’s head, and the thin shadow almost turned into a phantom in the white light.

“The person who can save the world… is not me, but her. As for myself, I know my ending line and how much pain I can bear better than anyone. I would rather take such a risk.”

Zero looked at him without a word, and sighed heavily for a long time.

“Time is up.”

Judgement day arrives- to trigger the beginning of Season 2.

#恋与制作人 #love and producer #mlqc #mr love queens choice #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc cn #mlqc en #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #victor #li zeyan

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foster-the-world · 3 years ago

Text

Bad Day with an unexpected ending

Woke up to my Mom calling because my Grandma passed away. 99 years! She had a good run and I’m glad she gets some rest. However, it’s still sad for us. At CVS I started walking toward the card aisle to buy her a Halloween card - when I remembered. She was a cool lady. They are going to spread her ashes over my Grandpa’s tomb - per his request. She took care of paying for her cremation over a decade ago. She wasn’t one to leave work for anyone else.

Then I got my Med Math exam back. I missed four and I was only allowed to miss two :( I have two chances to retake. The problem is I have no idea what I got wrong. They aren’t releasing the correct answers or telling us which one we missed so that we don’t pass on the test questions to next semesters students. I had plenty of time to do each problem three times and felt like every response was correct. Which leaves me with no idea what to study. The Professor said almost everyone’s mistakes were “silly.” Which is not helpful. The Professor scheduled a study session for Thursday and a retake for Friday.

Of course, the retake is during the Grandma at daycares funeral. Her family (the other daycare teachers) asked me to give a speech on behalf of all of the children/parent’s she’s cared for. I don’t feel like I can miss it and don’t feel like I can pass up a chance at the retake. I emailed the Professor. Fingers crossed they give me another option. I have no idea what they will say. I honestly cannot imagine telling her family I am not coming. I also don’t think I can risk not having two more chances to retake. They claim you are kicked out if you don’t score a 90% by attempt #3.

Bee’s biological sister (6.5 years old) father sent us pictures of Bee’s sister with her biological Mom today. None of the six children have EVER met her. She hasn’t had contact with her family (some of whom are raising some of Bee’s siblings) in a decade. He didn’t really make it clear but I guess he reached out to her via Facebook. I am her Facebook friend and after not posting for over a year she has been posting a lot in the last week. In fact, this weekend she sent me a message (a first) that asked how I was. When I responded she did not write back. The Father said the visit went really well. Apparently she is interested in meeting all of the six kids. We would like Bee to meet her/have a relationship with her. I would prefer if the first meeting was only Bee, us and her Mom. I am not sure she will handle it as calmly as her sister did. If there’s any risk of her not responding well I’d prefer she’d have some privacy - instead of her six siblings watching. I would imagine Bee’s 16 and 13 year old brothers may feel the same. Although I don’t know. The Father (of Bee’s sister) said he told her he would help her meet all of the kids. We’d also prefer to talk to her without the Father’s involvement at first. I have no idea what the Great Aunt who has one of the siblings (and helped raise another) would think. Or the Great Grandma. I would like to get their opinion first. Honestly, I would love to get Bee an adoption therapist first. We have been meaning to do that anyway. This feels heavy and we don’t want to get it wrong. I don’t think will have time for that. I’m predicting some big emotions after any meeting. Bee is known for big emotions in general. But maybe I’m wrong. The Dad seemed to think there was only positives for his daughter. They are planning to see her again next week, I think. I do think it would be a good thing for Bee overall. I just want to make sure we handle it properly. It feels like a lot to process for anyone - let alone a four year old. The sister’s Dad said the Mom is sweet. Child like. I’m also unsure what language to use when explaining this to Bee. What if she doesn’t show up? What if she only shows up once? These concerns don’t mean I don’t want the visit to happen. I just want to have good language to prep her. I know we can’t avoid Bee having emotions but I do want to offer some cushions for those emotions. I have no idea what her Mom’s life has been like beyond what I read in a court report. She never showed up for any court date, visits, etc. The caseworker did see her for vacation approvals. He said her mood varied. If anyone has any experience with anything like this please let feel free to share any advice. For context, Bee will be five next month.

Now I’m all hyped up and can’t sleep.

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanons for being Diego Hargreeves’ child

Diego Hargreeves x child!reader

warnings: knifes, blood, guns, death mentions, mental hospital

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! Could you please write a “The Umbrella Academy” Diego Hargreeves x daughter reader headcanon? I always think Diego is such a overprotective softie dad ♥️♥️”

deigo really said “?????”

how dad

but also he’d just the most loving dad anyone could ever ask for

✨it’s because he was never loved by his dad✨

“hi cutie, i love you, i love you, i love youuuuu”

he locked away all his weapons so that you couldn’t hurt yourself on them

but he always missed a few and he’d turn around and see you holding throwing knives and just FREAK OUT

“no, no, no, you may not have those! knives are for big boys like me, not babies”

“give back”

“‘give back?’ are you nuts?”

diego has conversations with lil you as if you know what the fuck he means dhshshhshs

as you got older, you became more interested in his “career”

“no, i dont care if you have powers or not! you have a bedtime, that means no vigilantism, you hear me?”

“if i say ‘no’ can i be a vigilante?”

“you know what? how about you clean up the gym for al so he doesn’t evict us?”

you did not sign up for this

you really wanted to meet your aunts and uncles, but you weren’t exactly sure they knew about you

i mean, you knew you had a cousin but everyone knew about her because aunt allison was a goshdarn celebrity

“dad, i want to meet the family!”

“no you don’t”

end of discussion

despite having a bedtime, you still watched movies late at night with your dad

he really liked marvel movies

“come on, that would never happen!”

“you come from a family of superpowered kids, a robot mom, and a monkey, and you’re upset about...a guy that shoots arrows?”

“maybe i am, what’re you gonna do about it?”

you ask about umbrella academy stories a lot, you your dad usually makes it about him

“and then i punched that guy in the face! and then i stabbed him in the leg because he was a dick! bet you’re friend’s dads arent as cool as me”

*yawning bc you’ve heard this story a million times*

you go to public school

you do have your dad’s last name

which occasionally gets recognized

“woah! wasn’t your dad a superhero?”

“i have no idea what youre talking about” :)

practicing your knife throwing while diego is away, him coming home to find his knifes stuck through various targets

so proud but he had to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself

you actually had to learn how to patch him up because he did come home a bit battered and bruised several times

“im okay, y/n. no need to freak”

“dad, there is literally blood dripping on the floor will you just sit down and stay still for five goddamn minutes?”

“woah, who the fuck taught you to cuss?”

watching the news at home when your grandfather was reportedly dead

you were actually very upset because you wanted to meet him so bad

even if he was a dick

your dad came home silent and you knew he knew

“you okay?”

“oh, yeah, im better than okay!”

finally getting the chance to meet your family

“who are you?” -allison

“im, uh, y/n. diego is my dad”

*jaw dropping*

and you know what? that happened four more times (plus ben but you didn’t get to see that)

“and you are?” -luther

“who’s the...the little one?” -klaus

“well, what do you know? diego’s a dad” -five

“don’t tell me that’s...no way” -ben

“you’re diego’s? wow, i can’t believe he didn’t tell anyone” -vanya

“i...i know who all of you are” -you

diego bragging about how perfect you are while everyone simultaneously rolls their eyes

“well, y/n, maybe one day we’ll schedule a playdate for you and claire” -allison

“‘playdate?’ how old do you think i am?...but yes i wanna meet her”

“god, you’re so much like diego, it’s unsettling”

you had been secretly training at al’s gym during your dad’s late night activities

so when trouble came your way, you were able to handle yourself pretty well

“where the hell did you learn that?”

“al showed me a few moves!”

“that old man? you’re kidding”

you met your grandmother, grace, who was tasked with keeping you safe at all times

you actually loved her sm

but there was something a bit off about her

besided the fact she was a robot

klaus snuck you out so that you two could have BoNdInG tImE

it wasn’t all bad

ben was a lil choked up that he got to meet one of his niblings

“they’re perfect”

“they just stabbed someone, buddy”

“who are you talking to?”

FIVE EVEN SCHEMED WITH YOU

“okay, y/n, i need you to curve something when i throw it, got that? right at that security guard”

“what are you throwing?”

“you’ll know when you see it, make your uncle five proud”

“IS THAT A GUN”

<3 family

running into patch!!

“hey, kid, i just saw your dad. i thought i told you to handcuff him to the radiator when you were away?”

“yeah, well, he wouldve chewed his hand off so here we are”

that was the last time you saw her :/

well, your dad was now a wanted man

“what happened to your arm?”

“no”

you actually didn’t expect this family reunion to go south like this

wait—yes you did

vanya has powers????

“i thought vanya was the one without powers?”

“yeah. so did we.”

diego straight up did not want you anywhere near that

but you, again, were his child and also fuck authority you do what you want

the vibe is almost getting shot several times

by hazel, cha cha, and “commission” guys?

going 2 ur auntie’s concert 😌✨

“y/n, hide in the bathroom and stay there until i come get you”

“dad, i love you, but no”

“y/n, i love you too, but yes”

“no”

“yes”

“NO”

“YES”

you won

but in the end (or not so much) you time traveled to...1961?

without any of your family

“this is...this is not good”

understatement of the year(s)

what was a kid like you gonna do in dallas, texas in 1961

no seriously, what

it was rough, but you managed to survive on your own

and open a paper in 1963 to find a mugshot of your dad

“son of a—”

visiting dad! (two years later)

“y/n? oh my god, y/n! shit, i missed you so much! why do you look different? you’re bigger, oh god. how long have you been here?”

“2 years, dad. you?”

his hair was so LONG

“2 months”

“christ, that’s it?!”

“i have to stop jfk from being assassinated”

“what makes you think that’s a good idea???”

“its the right thing to do, wanna help?”

“shit, i guess. as long as i dont end up here”

“no promises, people in the 60’s are crazy”

diego: 👁👄👁

you: 👀

running into five on the street soon after

“uncle five?”

“no time to talk”

“okay, asshole? i’ve been here for 2 years and you dont care?”

“two years, huh? i spent 45 years in a post apocalyptic world as a 13 year old and beyond”

“i didn’t say it was a competition, dude. you kinda dropped us all at different times. at least, me and dad. he—”

“is trying to kill lee harvey oswald, i know. come with me”

finally running into your other aunts and uncles, who were so excited to see you

you ran into their arms and they picked you off the ground and you felt closer than ever after only knowing them for 10 days

dad broke out

lila too

“im your new mom!”

“you’re what?”

diego dragged you along with him almost everywhere

he had missed you so much, but he keeps forgetting you kinda grew up without him for a while longer

meeting grandpa :)

“a grandchild, huh? how unfortunate”

“bitch”

“what did you just call me?”

“a bitch.”

your dad and basically the entire table trying to hold back laughter

reggie was stunned

cold hearted just like him <3 he didn’t know if he was offended or proud

this is so confusing

diego just disappeared off the face of the earth

and assassins were on your case

“the goddamn swedes are back oh shittt im gonna die”

“y/n, just curve their bullets”

“it’s not as easy as it sounds, klaus!”

you were doomed

theres too much to go over

apparently you died on a farm????

and then you didn’t??????

and your dad was almost apart of the commission

“hey, you okay, y/n?”

“i would like to take a nap please”

“yeah, me too”

“me three!” -klaus

yeah it was never that simple 😌💕 the end

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @cullens-stuff // @lotsoffandomrecs // @takethebladeawayfromme // @that-nerd-tessa // @teenwaywardasgardian // @spidergirla5 // @sheridans-dynamos // @freya-xo // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @jay-is-groovy // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @abbiesthings // @thereagles // @ofthedewthesunlight //

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #umbrella academy imagine #tua #tua imagine #tua x reader #diego hargreeves x child!reader #hargreeves!reader

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 4 years ago

Text

🕯Anon said: hi sweetheart 🕊 can you write about armin having a quiet night with the reader? something like wearing comfy pajamas, fairy lights, cute little candles, incense, soft songs and maybe some reading? and they just cuddling? 🥺 i think about that whenever i go to sleep and do all of the above, but i'm just by myself lmao anyways, thank you so much 🌸 (btw i'm the anon who asked you about the armin x painter!reader 🥺 hello 🥺 i just love how you write can we be friends please) 🕯

Quiet night with Armin

{ Armin x Reader | tw:none | sleep help, comfort, fluff | modern }

{ "Twilight, Valley of the Genesee" 1865 by Samuel Colman 1832 - 1920 }

Shimmering golden hues weaved across pastel blue walls in the form of strings, crossing the bookshelf before making a turn at the plants corner, illuminating the room with a soft warm glow.

Your head rested against the satin pillow, just right above Armin's shoulder, close enough that you can see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. The ends of his hair ghosting over your cheek whenever he leaned to tell a particular clever line of the book he's been reading to you.

You can't exactly remember the name of it, but you can clearly recall his excited smile this morning when showing it to you.

"It's one of my favourites" he said, "the last time i got to reread it was in high-school, has it really been that long?" And that's all you can remember from the conversation before it got sidetracked by him asking if you had lunch yet.

There's definitely something to be said about rereading a book over and over again, a sense of familiarity, an attachment to the characters, plot and world setting. It's almost magic how quickly your comfort book, show or movie can turn a horrible day into a nice one, making it the silver lining.

Looking at the way Armin would pause for a second after some lines, or chuckle at random scenes, like it's an inside joke between him and his mind, you can tell he's definitely recalling some good memories.

Just like how he's adding to his list of comfort memories by sharing this experience with you, he wants you to be a part of this silly book he once picked up as a child and continued to revisit every few years.

You glance at the remaining pages, just as he flips another one to start anew. You've already finished a third of the book, only a quarter remaining.

It's not that you're getting impatient, but it's more that the soft blanket draped over you, the warmth of Armin's body pressed next to yours and the sound of his voice, are all luring you into a hazy cloudy state where your eyelids feel too heavy and turning your head to check the clock seems too exhausting.

How long has it been? since you curled up against him right after you went to put your empty hot chocolate mugs in the sink.

You don't have the heart to tell him that your brain stopped registering the words he's saying and instead listens to the tone of his soft-spoken voice and reacts accordingly. Stealing another glance at the remaining pages, you notice a few missing, okay good, just a few more. You can hold on right?

Right?

Forcing your eyes open, you suppress a yawn threatening to rise before curling even closer to his shoulder, face against his neck, hand over his chest.

Instead of focusing on his calming heartbeat, you try to focus your attention on different things, like the smell of snowdrops flowers filling the room from the scented incense sitting on the nightstand.

Snowdrops, the milky bell-like flowers who befriended the cold harsh snow herself.

An ancient German tale that Armin told you, on one early spring morning. When the universe was just in bloom, as the earth shaped its form and the plants dressed themselves, when the god in the heavens above just created snow, she was told to go seek her colours from the flowers below.

She came with her request, but the flowers turned their heads, refusing to acknowledge her for she is the reason for the harsh weather, deeming their life spans short, overzealous and jealous, protecting their colours from the merciless lady snow.

She was left all alone, friendliness, colourless with no love or sympathy from a soul.

Except for one, came knocking on her door, head bowed down and humbly offered to share. Snowdrops were the flowers that warmed the snow's heart, and so white was the colour in which snow was known.

Snow made a vow, to always protect her one and only friend, even from her own self. Under her watchful gaze, snowdrops were gifted with warmth that let them be the first flowers to bloom when winter bid her goodbyes as spring was arriving soon.

You've never seen snowdrops the same since, their delicate and shy nature standing out between all the proud flowers, you even suggested planting some to Armin.

"...but sweetheart" you remember him saying with a frown, " snowdrops are poisonous."

…

Yeah, and so getting their scented incense was the second best option available.

You hear the sound of another page being turned, fewer left to go, just hold on a bit longer.

Wondering the room with your eyes, your gaze fell on the straw sunhat hanging from the on the back of a chair. It's Armin's favourite, he'd always wear it when the sun was particularly bright that day.

you remember him saying it was a gift from his grandpa when he was a child.

His grandpa...didn't you visit his farm a few months ago?

...yeah you did, you can recall clearly, how you were:

Squinting your eyes to avoid the bright sun, you wiped the sweat collecting on your forehead before leaning your head back against the wooden wall. The occasional passing cool breeze distracting you from the dryness in your throat, even after moving to sit in the shade your skin still felt too hot.

The grassy fields in front stretched wide before ending in white pained fences, where the crops patches for vegetables started.

The sudden gentle waves of cool air against your skin made you glance to the side, where Armin was fanning you with his hat, while holding a tray with two ice filled lemonades in his other hand.

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" He said, sitting next to you before handing you the cold drink, "you've already done a lot, I'll do take care of the rest."

You've been helping Armin with the farm work since sunrise, feeding the animals together and watering the crops, saying you're exhausted from the scorching hot sun was an underestimation.

And yet, somehow Armin seems unaffected. Not a sign of being bothered as he sat there next to you with his rolled up sleeves and cuffed pants, the slight flushing to his face was the only thing he got from the sun.

"Yeah, I need to lay down a bit." You remember saying, after emptying your drink in one go.

"If that's the case then-" setting the tray aside, Armin patted his lap while looking at you, "Come here."

Too tired to protest, you layed your head on his thigh, feeling your back stretching and the cool air from his fanning was already making you feel better.

"You know, there's a story my grandpa used to tell me about the sun."

An Australian folklore, about a time when the earth was merged in absolute Darkness, when even the stars refused to light up the sky.

Eternal darkness was the fate of humanity, as people were spent their lives carrying torches to light up their way.

Gnowee was an alone mother in a forsaken world, left to fend for her little son. Each day while he slept safely, she'd venture into the the fields in search for plants or seeds. Knowing very well that's it's a matter of life and death if she couldn't come back with something edible.

Each day she'd come with whatever she could find, feeding it to her son even if it meant sleeping on an empty stomach.

But with food scarce and the abyss looming at every corner, things were harder each day.

One day after rocking her child to sleep, she quietly left with her torch to dig for yams she saw on her way last time. Retracting her footsteps, it was a long journey but she knew it'd be worth it.

And so she walked and walked till she reached the place, began digging the ground but dirt and mud was all that she could find. But she couldn't just go back to her son empty handed, and so she wandered far.

She wandered so far in fact that she reached the end, not the end of her journey but the end of the earth itself.

Somehow, in someway she managed to pass from under it, her will for her son to live another day far greater that anything, and so she emerged from the other side.

The void.

Where nothingness lived.

Looking at the vast empty space, she didn't know where she was, the line between the ground and walls was so blurred that she thought she's floating.

Panic and dread filled her mind as she raised her torch higher and higher, attempting to clear a path for her to see. For she had to go back to her son, all alone sleeping by himself.

Climbing the sky was her only solution, as she wondered the world, unknowingly lighting up a path with her as she went.

"And so the Sun Goddess wonders the sky above, in search for her son." Armin told you that day, before offering you his own lemonade to drink because he was still worried about you.

...

You can't recall how that day ended, you think you might have fell asleep on his lap right after.

The fairylights on the wall reminded you of the clear stars sky you've seen while on the farm, his grandfather was a really sweet guy too.

With your mind still coulded in drowsiness, your hearing was also delayed apparently, since you just noticed the book in Armin's hold was closed with him staring at you with a smile instead.

Moving so he could set the book on the nightstand, Armin turned towards you before pulling you closer to him, making sure the covers don't slip off of you. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with love in his eyes.

"I'm sorry baby, did I take too long?" He said, glancing at the clock behind you answered his question.

You shook your head, murmuring a slurred "it's alright."

Posture visibly relaxing, he gave your cheek a small kiss before resting too on the pillow next to you, a yawn escaping him.

With half closed eyes, you saw him cuddling close to your chest, features softening as he bid you goodnight. Your hand moved to stroke his hair just like he always liked, lacing your fingers through the soft strands you closed your eyes too.

Warmth took over you, the feeling of his soft breath near your neck, the comfortable weight of his arms around you, the slow ticking of the clock, it all rocked you to sleep as you happily gave in.

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freddie-weaselbee · 4 years ago

Text

A Whole New World//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst to fluff, symptoms of depression, mentions of depression, minor character death (only mentioned), language, honestly it’s really cute once you get into it trust me

Summary: “Do you trust me?” After constantly pestering Y/N and finally making her explode with anger, Fred decides to try to make her smile again, in the most extravagant way possible.

Word Count: 4.4k

Song: A Whole New World from Aladdin

A/N: Apparently I’m a sucker for the astronomy tower I didn’t even realize until I wrote this that it takes place in the same place as my last fic, but oh well. Also I would literally sell my soul to be able to reenact this with someone, preferably Fred. Also also I’m making a taglist so message me if you wanna be on it!

The astronomy tower was one of your favorite places to visit when you were upset. Something about the way the infinite number of stars continued to shine down made you feel more at peace. It made you believe that maybe there was a plan for everything, and it would all work out eventually.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend most of your recent nights watching the sky glimmer with specks of light. The past few months had been hard on you, and you felt an increasing need to escape as much as you could. Your friends noticed, but they didn’t know how to help. You were usually so upbeat and happy, always helping others rather than being vulnerable enough to admit that you needed some help yourself. Which is why you would spend hours each night, alone with your thoughts and dejection.

Tears rolled down your eyes as the events of the day came back to you.

It took everything you had just to get out of bed. Your dorm mate had tried to wake you up several times, but she eventually gave up and allowed you to rest a little longer. You rolled onto your side and stared at a picture that was hanging on the wall. It was a family picture from years ago, when you were just a little gap toothed girl. Your mom was holding you in her arms and your dad had his arm wrapped around your mom’s shoulder. There was only one other person in the picture, but it hurt your heart too much to look at the old man smiling down at little you.

After letting a few tears lose, you decided to start your day a couple hours late. You had a Potions exam that you needed to do well on, or else your dreams of becoming a Healer would be a lot harder to achieve.

You rolled out of bed and put on your uniform followed by fixing your hair and putting on some light makeup. You used to put a decent amount of effort into how you looked, wanting to practice your eyeliner skills and try out new hairstyles. But recently it just seemed like too much work for no reward. The bags under your eyes remained visible as you walked to your Potions class.

The day didn’t get better.

You skipped lunch and decided to take a nap instead. You curled up in your bed and shut your eyes tight, trying to calm the anxiety that was racing through your body. Your mind began to wander and you started wondering what your friends were doing at the moment, and if you were missing out on something fun. You wanted to join them and be a part of whatever was happening, but you just didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. It wasn’t until you were forced to get up for your next class that you left the silence of your room.

Transfiguration was a class you had with most of your friends, which made it difficult for you to avoid questioning.

“Y/N, where were you during lunch today?” your friend asked. She seemed concerned, but didn’t know what to say to the sulking mess who was usually so lively and energetic.

You shrugged and gave a forced smile. “Just tired, didn’t get much sleep last night.”

She nodded, not believing you but figuring that you weren’t going to tell her the truth any time soon.

You turned your attention to McGonagall’s lecture, but you were distracted almost immediately with a balled up piece of paper that landed on your lap. You looked around the room before making eye contact with Fred Weasley, who gestured for you to open the note.

You did and scoffed at the message scrawled in messy handwriting.

‘Hey love, you’re looking a little glum today. How about spending the night in my dorm and we’ll see if I can make you feel better? ;)’

Normally you would’ve playfully flirted back with the ginger troublemaker, but you weren’t in the mood today. You hadn’t been in the mood in months.

Shaking your head you crumpled up the paper and let it fall to the ground. It wasn’t long before another one landed on your desk.

You rolled your eyes and you opened this one.

‘C’mon, don’t be so grumpy. You know you want me.’

This letter you ripped up, letting the scraps dramatically spill all around you. If there was one thing Fred wasn’t good at, it was reading the room. You just wanted to focus on the lesson and spend the rest of your night alone in your dorm.

A third letter hit you in the back of your head. You almost turned around and screamed at Fred, but instead you picked up the note and sat in on your desk. You didn’t want to give Fred the satisfaction of opening the letter, but your curiosity got the best of you. And of course with your luck it all blew up in your face. Literally.

A small explosion came from the letter the second you opened to read it, painting your face a scorched black and singeing the ends of your hair. You didn’t even have time to react before you were being yelled at by your favorite teacher.

“Miss Y/L/N!” McGonagall was glaring at you down the bridge of her nose, giving you a look that she only reserved for the worst troublemakers. It made you feel like shit. “Detention, tomorrow night for disrupting my lesson. Please keep your antics to yourself next time.”

“But professor--” She interrupted you by putting her hand up.

“Don’t argue, Miss Y/L/N. Tomorrow night.”

Your face fell and you buried your head in your hands, trying to hold back sobs that were rising in your throat. As class ended you gathered your things and practically sprinted out of the room, ignoring the cries from your friend.

You didn’t get too far before you were spun around by large hands that gripped your shoulders. Fred was towering over you, a proud grin spreading across his face as if he had just won the lottery.

“You should’ve seen your face, darling, absolutely priceless.”

He reluctantly let go of you as you struggled in his hold, avoiding eye contact with the boy. “I don’t want to talk to you right now Fred, I just want to go to my room.”

“You’re in your room all the time!” he exclaimed. He wasn’t wrong. “Just lighten up a little and take a joke.”

You sighed and began to walk back to your dorm, ignoring his complaints.

“C’mon, Y/N, who died and made you all depressed?”

That was it.

You spun around and came storming back toward Fred, who now looked as though he regretted ever saying anything. “Do you really want to know Fred? Do you really feel the need to relentlessly bother me when it’s painfully obvious that I don’t want to talk to you?”

You had backed him into a wall and he was holding his hands up in defense.

“Today has been awful. I could barely get out of bed this morning, and the only reason I did was because I had a Potions test, which I likely failed! I have no motivation to do anything, which means I go to my room and miss out on everything fun, which only makes me more upset.”

Tears were streaming down your face as you screamed at Fred, all of your pent up anger finally coming out.

“And not that it’s any of your business, Frederick--” you poked his chest as you said his full name, something you only did when you were mad at him, “--but my grandpa died and made me all depressed. Three weeks ago. And I’ve felt like absolute shit ever since. So please, for the love of Godric just leave me alone for two fucking minutes!”

Fred’s face was adorned with a shocked expression, which softened immediately. You hadn’t told anyone about your grandpa, not wanting to deal with pitiful glances being thrown your way. Fred had no idea that you were going through so much, and seeing you finally break because of him broke his heart.

But you didn’t give him any time to respond before you turned on your heel and marched back to your room, feeling worse than you had ever felt in your life.

You knew it wasn’t Fred’s fault. You had chosen not to tell anyone about what you were going through, and you assumed he was only trying to lighten your spirits. However with everything that had been going on you needed some time to think and deal with your emotions on your own. It was the only way you knew how.

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone behind you clearing their throat. You turned your head to see the outline of a tall ginger boy, standing at the top of the astronomy tower stairs.

“What do you want Fred?” Your voice cracked as you spoke and you quickly turned to stare at the sky again, hoping your friend wouldn’t be able to see how upset you were.

When you didn’t hear a response you spared another glance behind you, but Fred was gone. You stood up and looked around. Surely he wouldn’t just appear out of nowhere and then disappear seconds later. You leaned against the railing of the tower, the only thing separating you from the endless night sky.

A scream erupted from your throat as something rose up to face you, hovering in the air. Fred was standing eye level with you, but he was...floating?

“How are you…”

You looked over the edge and gasped at the sight before you. Fred was standing on a large carpet that he must’ve snagged from the Gryffindor common room. From the looks of it, it had been enchanted to fly and it was doing a fine job of fulfilling its duties.

Fred laughed at your surprised expression as he reached a hand out. You stepped back, still wanting to be alone for the time being. But maybe you had been alone for long enough.

“What is this Fred? What’s going on?”

He didn’t respond, but rather moved closer and stretched his hand out a little farther. “Do you trust me?”

The whole scene reminded you of your favorite movie, which had just come out last year. You remembered watching Aladdin with your grandpa, memorizing every song and occasionally singing or humming the lyrics once you returned to Hogwarts. There was no way Fred’s actions were coincidental, he had to have planned this.

No matter how upset you were, you weren’t going to give up the chance to reenact one of your favorite movie scenes, so with hesitation you grabbed his hand and wobbled onto the magic carpet that was hovering hundreds of feet in the air.

“You ready, love?” Fred’s voice was calm and soothing, so unlike his normal persona. You gave him a tiny smile and nodded, holding onto the tassels of the rug for dear life.

Fred nodded back and scooted closer to you. “Hold on tight princess.” You grabbed his right arm and squeezed, letting him know you were ready to go.

With a flick of his wand the carpet took off and you were suddenly flying through the cool night air at racing speeds. You’d ridden on a broom before but this was something completely different. This time didn’t have to worry about working your core to stay on or try to ignore the uncomfortable position you were in. With this, you could just breathe and take in the moment.

Fred looked over at you and grinned as he saw your amazed face. You closed your eyes and put your hands out, letting yourself be overcome with the feeling of soaring through the air. Without warning the carpet jerked to one side, causing you to scream and grip back onto Fred’s arm.

“What was that for?” you exclaimed. He laughed and tried to pry your arms off of him, choosing to wrap his arm around your shoulder instead.

“Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention. Now are you ready?”

You looked at him quizzically, wondering what else he could have in store for you. Fred cleared his throat and you saw a small blush appear on his face. He took in a deep breath and did something you never expected Fred Weasley to do.

He started singing.

“I can show you the world, shining shimmering--why are you laughing at me?!” You were bent over into his chest, heaving with laughter at his display. It’s not that he was a bad singer, on the contrary in fact. But you had definitely not expected him to start singing A Whole New World while you were flying across the Hogwarts grounds on a literal magic carpet.

“I’m--I’m s-sorry Freddie,” you choked out through laughs, “it’s v-very nice. Fantastic job!”

He could hear the sarcasm dripping from your voice and he put on a faux glare. “Y/N, I did not listen to you sing this bloody song every single day and memorize all of the words simply from paying attention to your voice for you to not be my Jasmine and sing back.” He crossed his arms and huffed and your giggles slowly died down.

You felt a blush appear on your face as you realized how much effort he had put into this. Memorizing the entire song from only your humming and occasional lyrics? The least you could do was humor the boy.

“Fine,” you said playfully, rolling your eyes, “go ahead again. I promise I won’t laugh.”

He gave you an unbelieving look.

“I promise I won’t laugh a lot.”

Fred nodded and cleared his throat once again. “I can show you the world, shining shimmering splendid!”

He cupped your chin in his hand and gave you a wink. “Tell me princess, now when did you last let your heart decide.”

The carpet dipped and you screamed as the two of you soared downwards before leveling out again.

“I can open your eyes,” he began once again. “Take you wonder by wonder. Over, sideways and under--” as he sang each word the carpet twisted to perform the respective move, “on a magic carpet ride. A whole new world!”

He sat on his knees and spread his arms to the sky, screaming the lyrics and letting the wind whip his ginger hair around his face. Although you were speeding through the clouds and any wrong move would likely end in you falling to your death, all you could focus on was him.

“A new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we’re only dreaming…” Fred was looking back at you, holding his hands in yours. He leaned in to you and you sucked in a breath, leaning toward him as well. But what you had been assuming would happen did not, and Fred leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“That’s your cue, love.” It took you a second to realize what he was saying but when you did you nodded fervently, hoping Fred didn’t notice you mistaking his actions for an attempt at a kiss. Before you could overthink everything and make it even more awkward you sat up and belted out your lines.

“A whole new world! A dazzling place I never knew.” You moved toward the front of the carpet and Fred grabbed your waist holding you up as you spread your arms and stared at the endless sky. “But when I’m way up here, it’s crystal clear, that now I’m in a whole new world…”

You hesitated before saying the next two words, suddenly very aware of the tight grip Fred’s rough hands had on your waist. “With you…”

You turned your head to see Fred beaming at you, and he moved you back so the two of you were once again sitting side by side. You sang the next verse as the two of you flew over the Forbidden Forest. The terrifying collection of dark trees and plants now seemed so small, so miniscule when you were soaring over it instead of walking through it.

It was almost time for the duet portion of the song, but before you could start you were cut off by Fred’s finger on your lips. “Alright, love, now we switch. I want to be Jasmine!”

You giggled at the child that was Fred Weasley, but it was his kiddish behavior that always drew you to him. “Well you have the body for it,” you teased, poking his stomach. He poked you back and it made you flinch, seeing as how he hit a ticklish spot. His eyes widened when he realized the opportunity he had, and his fingers attacked your sides while both of you tried to sing your new parts.

“A whole new world--”

“Don’t you dare close your eyes.” He covered his eyes as you sang this for effect and you had to use all of your strength to remove his hands from his face, which ended with you intertwining your fingers in his.

“A hundred thousand things to see--”

“Hold your breath it gets better.”

Fred finally halted his tickling as he belted his next line straight into your ear. “I’m like a shooting star, I’ve come so far, I can’t go back to where I used to be…”

You threw your legs over his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as the two of you giggled like schoolchildren. Something about laughing with Fred always made you feel carefree and young. Like you didn’t constantly have the entire world dragging you down. It was intoxicating.

You ruffled his hair and screamed the lyrics at the top of your lungs. “A whole new world!”

Fred saw this as a competition, and he decided he just had to one up you in noise. “Every turn a surprise!”

“With new horizons to pursue!”

“Every moment red letter!”

At this point both of you were shouting as loud as you possibly could, so loud that you knew at least someone on the Hogwarts grounds would be able to hear you, but neither of you cared. He took his other hand in yours as you screeched the next words simultaneously.

“I’ll chase them everywhere, there’s time to spare, let me share this whole new world with you!” Fred steered the carpet downwards to a grove that you had never noticed before. He swept through the trees and swiftly grabbed an apple from a tree above before tossing it to you. It was something straight out of the movie and you had to wonder how in the world he had this so well prepared.

He pulled you in tighter by the waist and started to sing again, transitioning back to Aladdin’s part. His voice was much softer than it had been before, almost sweet and loving. “A whole new world…”

You lowered your voice to match his. “A whole new world…”

“That’s where we’ll be…”

“That’s where we’ll be…” You could tell that Fred was maneuvering the two of you back toward the grand Hogwarts castle but you didn’t want this moment to end so soon.

His thumb brushed your cheek. “A thrilling chase…”

Your hand moved to his chest, feeling his toned muscles underneath his infamous Weasley jumper. “A wondrous place…”

“For you and me…”

You stared into each other’s eyes, holding each other tightly and letting out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding as you finally finished the song. Neither of you said a word as Fred guided the carpet back to the astronomy tower and helped you down onto the floor. You slipped and fell into his chest, but he was quick to steady you and hold you tight in his arms.

Your eyes wandered up the tall redhead’s body, illuminated by the dim glow of the night stars. “What...what in the world was that?” you asked incredulously.

Fred only laughed and pulled you to sit down next to him, legs dangling off the side of the tower. “I guess that was my way of apologizing.”

“Not even an actual ‘I’m sorry’ is good enough for you Weasley?” you teased, making Fred give you a guilty look.

“I am really sorry, Y/N. I...I had no idea what was happening, and I was just getting tired of not seeing you ever. I guess I thought you were avoiding me and I wanted to get your attention, even if that meant being a complete arse.” His guilty look only grew as he confessed the reasoning behind his actions. “I’m really sorry, love. But I want you to know that I’m always here for you. You don’t have to go through things alone.”

You sighed heavily and leaned your head against his shoulder. His arm found its familiar place around your shoulder and you shuffled so that you were closer to him.

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. I don’t want people to pity me, or to think that I should try to get over it. I don’t want everyone to say that I should stop feeling like this when there are so many people that have it so much worse.” Your voice shook with every word that poured out of your mouth. You had never told anyone that before, always keeping your burdens to yourself and burying them deep inside.

Fred grabbed your shoulder with his other hand and brought you into a hug, letting you sob quietly into his chest. “Darling, you should never feel as though your feelings aren’t valid. You have every right to be upset, and I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me.”

You hummed into his jumper, taking in the scent of cinnamon and gunpowder. It had grown to become one of your favorite smells. “You know, that movie was one of my grandpa’s favorites.”

Fred nodded but stayed quiet, trying to hide his joy that you were finally opening up to someone.

“We watched it nonstop last summer. He told me he loved princess Jasmine. Said she had spunk, just like--” your voice hitched in your throat, “--just like me.”

Your best friend began stroking your hair softly, occasionally twirling a strand in his long fingers. “I didn’t know,” he finally said. “I just knew you loved the movie, and I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it.”

You gave a small laugh at his words and he tilted your chin up so that you could see the concern in his eyes. “Hey, I’m serious. I love you, Y/N. You’re...you’re a great friend.”

The warm feeling inside your chest that had begun when Fred started talking had suddenly died down. You were friends. Just a great friend of his.

“I don’t know Freddie,” you teased, “the way you were singing to me out there made it seem like I was a little more than a friend to you.”

You were only joking, but Fred was immediately silent, turning to stare down at his hands. “I, uh, I may have gotten a little bit caught up in the moment,” he stuttered. His nervousness caught you off guard, as it was so unlike the confident prankster to be so tense.

“So you really memorized that song, recreated specific scenes from the movie, and took time to enchant a magic carpet to fly me across the skyline, just to make me feel better?”

He chuckled nervously, slightly embarrassed about all of the effort he put in. “When have I been known to be simple with these kinds of things, love?”

“Never,” you scoffed. Feeling a bit of a courage course through your veins you reached to grab his hand, intertwining it with yours. Fred squeezed your hand back and you moved to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the sweetest person I know, Freddie. You may be a little dumb and over the top sometimes, but you’re sweet.”

Fred smiled down at you and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently decided against it last minute. You decided to give this one more chance.

“Fred? Can I...can I kiss you?”

The words were barely out of your mouth when his lips gently touched yours, drawing you into the softest kiss you could imagine. Your lips moved in sync, slowly at first but quickly picking up a little speed. After what felt like an eternity you had to come up to catch your breath, tugging on his bottom lip as you moved away.

The two of you just stared at each other before you let out a small giggle. “Oi!” Fred exclaimed. “You think snogging me is funny? Wow, I think I’ll have to take those privileges away from you, you selfish girl.”

“Oh no, don’t deprive me of that Weasley, I couldn’t live without you.” He shoved your arm playfully and you spoke again. “I just think it’s funny that it took me cursing you out after class and an extravagant musical number for you to finally kiss me. And even then I had to initiate it! For a Gryffindor you really are a chicken sometimes.”

He responded by pressing his lips to yours again, this time in a shorter but just as passionate kiss. “I was getting around to it, I just didn’t want to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state,” he said as his excuse.

“Well I can tell you now, love,” you said, “this has nothing to do with my ‘vulnerable state.’ I’ve been in love with you forever, I was just too scared to say anything.”

“Ah, so you’re the real chicken then.”

You relented, not wanting this perfect moment to turn into another argument between you and the twin. “Yeah, I’m the chicken, and you can be the prince that swoops in and steals the chicken away on a magic carpet.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Only if the chicken turns into my beautiful princess by the end. Y/N, will you be my princess?”

You bit your lip trying to hold back a scream of pure happiness. Something you hadn’t felt in months. “Of course Freddie, I’m yours.”

#fredweasley #aladdin #disney #fred #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred x reader #fredweasleyfluff #hogwarts #magic carpet

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

Text

It’s a little shorter than the previous chapters, but it’s got some important stuff going on. But things still aren’t going to go well for a bit. in fact, after this chapter, we’re just going to focus on the bots. Maaaybe also Tommy

@petrichormeraki

There was a sigh as the winged figure sat down on a ledge. “I thought I told you I go by Death.”

“Or Dadza.” Grifter spoke up, getting a glare from his dad.

“You do realize I’ve disowned you, right?” Death asked, a bored look on his face.

“Pfft.” Grifter started before making his bedrock prison swing. “That doesn’t stop you from visiting when I call you again and again and again!”

“Because it gets annoying.” Death rolled his eyes before looking at who called him. “Speaking of which, why were you calling?”

“Well first off, that is the worst thing to repeat, why is it so fucking long? Second, can you get me out of here?!”

Death tilted his head from side to side in contemplation. “I dunno. Whole reason you’re in here is because Theseus asked me to, and he’s the one son I still respect.”

“Isn’t Wile still living with you?” Grifter piped up.

“Yes, he is. And while I don’t respect him, he’s still better than you.”

Grifter pouted. “That’s not fair. I’m better than that pussy.”

“Can we go back to the fact that I’m stuck in here because my evil copy wanted me here?!” Tommy shouted to get the attention of the others there. “Why the fuck did he want that?”

Death shrugged. “Well, seeing as how he’s not even in this dimension anymore, I’m guessing it’s so you couldn’t stop him leaving from Hels.”

“Wait, so the others don’t even know I’m missing?!” Tommy struggled, trying to find a way to even possibly escape his current prison, but had no luck. “Phil please can you let me out?!”

Death moved to sit on top of Grifter’s bedrock casket. “You know, normally I would have already. Theseus just wanted you in here long enough for him to leave. The thing is, I’m pretty sure you’d also let Grifter out, and I’d really rather keep him in here.”

“Oh come on Dadza, I’m not going to try and kill you. Remember, I’m a Listener now. That’s all the power I need. It’s just not quite enough to let me out of here since it was made to deal with those powers.” Grifter shifted to try and get a better look up at Death, but had little luck. “I’ll leave you and Wile alone, especially because if I killed you, then I’d probably end up as Death and then I’ll have to leave Sense alone.”

“Right… you did finally find someone, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll behave.” Grifter spoke in the sweetest voice he could muster.

Death was silent before flying back over to Tommy and breaking the lock in it, letting the bedrock casing open and causing Tommy to fall to the ground below. “Hey! I’m on half a heart now!”

“Hmm, thought that would kill you. Well, if you let Grifter out, I’m fine with that.”

Chains rattled as Grifter shook his prison. “Wait you’re not just letting me out?”

“No. Leaving it up to him.” Death pointed down to Tommy, and then a moment later he was gone.

“Uh, so are you, um… planning to help with that?”

“I’d rather not, but I don’t have a fucking clue how to leave, and I’m guessing this Listener thing is like Big G being a Watcher.”

“It’s the counterpart in this dimension.”

“Got it.” Tommy nodded. “Well I’m pretty much stuck in this world if I don’t help you, so I guess I have to. But that means you have to help me out since I can get you out and know where Sense is.”

“Of course.”

Tommy looked around and was glad to find there was an area that was easy to exit, but it was five blocks up. The walls were also obsidian, so it would take forever to mine up there with his hands since he had nothing in his inventory. “Uh, slight problem…”

“I’ll summon you some blocks or some shit you can use.” Grifter replied, and a moment later there was what sounded almost like a lightning strike and then a few blocks rained from above.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I get killed every time I use any of my powers. Normally I only do it when I’m really bored, but if we can use it to get out, it seems like a good idea to me.”

Tommy wasn’t sure how to react to that, so he just used the blocks of glazed terracotta - why that block, he wasn’t sure - to build up to the glass of what seemed to be a viewing area. He broke the glass and slid through into the room and started rifling through it. It was mainly bare, but there were a few random items here and there. Also a painting. It wasn’t big enough for anyone to go through, so at first Tommy assumed decoration, but then he looked behind it and found a chest.

“Found the keys!”

“Do you need more blocks?”

“Nah, you gave me enough and I can tear up the stuff in here if I need more.”

“What do you mean Phil’s your grandpa too?”

“I mean that he’s the dad of one of my dads and so he’s my grandpa! And since that’s the same for Grum, Phil’s also his grandpa.”

“Did Techno have a kid?!”

“No. At least I don’t think so. Grum said there were only three of us. Wait does that mean NPG doesn’t count? Maybe because he’s in Hels or something?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. But if you’re not- Did Tommy somehow build you before he died?!”

“What? No! He didn’t build us, and he’s not dead either.” Jrum crossed his arms. “Our dad is Grian!”

“Iskall’s friend?!”

Jrum lit up. “You know Auncle Iskall?”

“Yeah, I kinda hacked into his comm a few months ago and we somehow became friends from it. How does Grian being your dad make you related to me?!”

“I said because his dad is Phil!”

“Then why have I never heard of him?!”

“‘Cause he sort of went missing for a bunch of years. We only found out like uhhh… how many days ago?” Jrum paused to look at his current statistics for the world. “We’ve been here almost a week?!”

“How did you not know that?”

“I don’t know! I thought it’s been two days!” Jrum said, slightly panicking as Fundy pulled out his normal comm and started scrolling up.

“Yeah, it says you two joined six days ago.”

“But that’s not possible! The only time that could have happened is-” Jrum paused. The only time both of them had been off for an extended period of time was when we lost power. And that was when we were with… Mister Sam… Is… did he lie to us?” Jrum looked up at Fundy with sad eyes.

“Well… I…” Fundy wasn’t sure what to tell Jrum, and before he could say much else, the bot was hugging onto his legs with a hug.

“We’ve… also been stuck here that long. Did… is no one trying to help us? Can we not go home?”

Fundy winced, remembering what he had been told earlier as he pulled out the comm Dream had given him. If he said anything more, he might not get another chance, but at the same time, his call with Iskall had probably lasted long enough. “No. They’re trying to get you guys. I was just calling Iskall not too long ago. Apparently your parents are freaking out trying to find you guys. You’re honestly pretty lucky they are.”

Jrum looked at the device and carefully took it from Fundy’s outstretched paw. He looked it over before handing it back, no matter how much he wanted to keep it. “D-Dad and Tommy were really upset at Grandpa and the others. They weren’t really nice to Tommy, so I guess they weren’t nice to you either.”

Fundy shook his head, which made Jrum hug him more. “Well, we can help Grum… a-and then the three of us can try to find a way to Hermitcraft!”

The hybrid smiled slightly then nodded. “Sure, why not. Sounds like it could be fun.” And he turned back to look at Grum.

Just as he did, a window that had been open on Grum’s screen closed. Because of that, neither he nor Jrumbot saw the open application that showed a video feed of the two of them and the blinking red dot in the corner to signify it being recorded. Nor did they see the other flashing symbol that changed between two images. A smile, and a broken portal.

“I don’t understand why he hasn’t shown up yet.” Xannes grumbled and NPG patted his back.

“Aww, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just a little busy. They are currently going through a little crisis With Grum and Jrum missing.”

“They’re just machines, who cares if they’re gone?”

NPG ignored the way that comment hurt. “You know how much hermits care about others. They even care for you after you’ve tried to destroy the place. As far as they’re concerned, those two are real people. They’re not abandoning them.”

Xannes crossed his arms. “It seems stupid.”

NPG didn’t respond and instead fiddled with some wood blocks in his inventory. He already built them this rustic house and they didn’t need another. If they were back in Helscraft maybe, but things tended to be more down to earth here as far as he knew.

They were quiet a bit longer, just sitting as Xannes stared out at the land ahead. NPG slowly stepped closer before sitting down on the ground next to the hels admin’s chair and pulling out some wool yarn from his inventory. “Here… I brought some along. I don’t have needles though.”

Xannes rolled his eyes and huffled before turning away from NPG, but his hand did come back and grab the yarn before pulling out some spare knitting needles he kept on him.

“Um, did you hear that they can’t get into the world they want to get into because they’re blacklisted?” The robot asked as Xannes started to knit.

“All of them? That’s a little surprising. Have they tested all the hermits?”

“Uh…” NPG pulled out a communicator and typed something into it, waiting a minute before a response came in. “Not yet, but so far no one can get in.”

“Well, guess now they can know how it feels to be banned from a world.”

NPG frowned before scolding his friend. “That’s not a good thing to say! I mean, haven’t you been happy visiting here? They could have said no, but your brother let you in anyway. And you only got that chance because of one of the people that are stuck in a universe they can’t get to.”

Xannes sighed, but didn’t say anything else, just knitting in a way that NPG recognized. The admin tended to knit in slightly different patterns or rhythms based on his emotions. Right now it wasn’t quite sad, but it was at least a little melancholic. So not wanting to make it worse, NPG just sat next to his friend quietly.

When a certain person clad in pink finally arrived, NPG excused himself to let him and Xannes hang out. The robot found a different room of the rustic house and sort of sulked around. It didn’t take long before he was bored of sulking and found paper to sketch rustic houses on, but he ended up crumpling them up and throwing them away. He didn’t even feel like making rustic houses right now. So instead, he ended up just lying down on the ground and staring at the ceiling.

Eventually, time passed by, NPG wasn’t sure how long, but he only really realized that time had passed at all because Xannes was suddenly standing next to him and looking down. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

NPG didn’t answer at first, but eventually looked away before speaking up. “Yeah… they are kinda family and all.”

There was a very long sigh from Xannes. “Okay, what’s the world called again?”

NPG’s head snapped around to look at Xannes. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean, obviously the people banned are from Hermitcraft or related to those kids. I’m sure you’re included in one of those, but I’m neither. I’m not family and I’m not from Hermitcraft. Plus my hacking should help out distracting anyone that could give me trouble.”

NPG jumped up to his feet and hugged Xannes. “Thank you! This is so nice of you!”

“Ugh, stop hugging me before I change my mind and contact whoever should no before I try it just in case something goes wrong and I actually need help for some fucking reason.”

“Okay, got it.” And NPG sent a message, giving a thumbs up a few moments later. Xannes nodded back and then pressed a button on his helmet and cracked his knuckles. He checked a few info panels, changing some commands to work for this new world instead of Hermitcraft, then he initiated his teleport.

EvilXisuma joined the world

In all the commotion, Theseus stepped away from the group, taking a stolen ender pearl in his hand and chucking it as far as he could. Even then, he still tried to get more distance to make sure he was really alone and far enough from Philza. Finally, he reached a clearing and checked it over to make sure no one was around. He even double checked before finally going to the center of the clearing and speaking into the air. “I call the goddess of death.”

Immediately, a brisk breeze blew through the nearby trees, cooling the surrounding area. Theseus tried his best not to shiver and just stood still, waiting for the wind to calm before turning around. Standing there was someone who looked like his mom, but dressed in his dad’s clothes. “Mumza.”

“Hello Tommy. It looks like Phil finally told you about me.”

“More or less. Figured some of it out on my own, but he did tell me the last part I needed to know.”

“How have you been? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you last.”

“Been around. Been busy. Shit like that, y’know.” Theseus was glad that she wasn’t around for his other self. It would make it easier to lie.

“I’m assuming you don’t just want to talk?”

“Well, apparently I have nephews and they got kidnapped and are stuck in the server Phil, Techno and I were in. None of them can get back in, but I was thinking maybe I could. Unfortunately none of them will let me try to help.”

He was given a soft, kind smile. “I’m glad you want to help. I can see why Phil would want to be a little protective, but I can help you.”

He nodded and took the hand the goddess held out to him.

TheseusMC joined the world

EvilXisuma joined the world

Error with processing. Virus found. Attempting recovering. Recovery failed; Too many resources being used. Finding unnecessary memory usage. Found. Disable communicator direct connection. Disabled.

Files being accessed. Restricted files attempting access. Restricted files require password access. Please input password. Password inputted. Checking password. Password accepted.

Activation phrase number 652 used. Activating camera. Beginning recording. Recording. Recording. Recording. Closing program. Sending recording. Sending. Recording sent to user level Admin.

Blacklist check. Attempting Entry: TangoTek. Assigned roles: Hermittown member, Acknowledged associate family, Team ZIT member, Operator. Banned roles: Hermittown member. Acknowledged associate family. Continue blacklist.

Blacklist check activated. Increase displacement by 1.5%. Displacing. Displacement complete. Displacement at 39.5% total.

Opening files at request. Warning, files missing data. Names of referenced files changed. Please update file names. Warning, Error with processing. Virus found. Shutting down.

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #tommyinnit #hels!grian #hels!Philza #jrumbot #grumbot #itsfundy #The Watchers #npg #npc grian #evil xisuma #worm man #hels!tommy #mumza

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Marinette Vs Santa: The Final Round

Okay, so it’s 11:38 on Christmas. I promised I would post this today. So I am. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone. Enjoy your present.

The jolly fat man would get his, Marinette swore. She wore a lovely gold, snowflake-embroidered cocktail dress. Her hair was done in a French side braid with voluminous Curls; more than she ever had in her entire life. Honestly, she looked like a princess.

And it would’ve been a win for her if it wasn’t for the circumstances that made it yet another Tie against Santa.

Roy has his hand on the small of her back since they step out of the limo. The forced sweet smile on her face was for the paparazzi that had waited outside the restaurant. When they got inside, and as they were shone to their table, Roy's hand slipped south.

Marinette stiffened and leaned close to Roy and whispered in his ear, “If you don’t get your hand off my butt, I’m going to take off one of my five-inch heels and slit your throat with it.”

Roy’s hand was gone in a flash, “Aww babe,” He said, a little loudly, nodding to the table where his parents’ Oliver and Dinah waited; their eyes watching the young couple’s every move. “You know I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Marinette giggled, as she fought the urge to slam his against a nearby table, “Not in front of your parents. It’s called manners.”

Your lucky homicide is still technically illegal, Marinette thought viciously, and a sure-fire way to get on fat bastard’s naughty list.

He wouldn’t win. No, Marinette had gone too far; been through too much to lose now.

“Thank you, Marinette,” Dinah stood once the two approached. She pulled Marinette into a hug. “I’ve tried to instill etiquette into Roy for years. His last girlfriends and he nearly in trouble for public indecency. Maybe you’ll do a better job than I did.”

Marinette laughed, “I will even if I have to cut off his hand.”

Oliver chuckled, “You’re definitely Bruce’s girl.” The resemblance was uncanny.

After that the fell into an easy conversation.

“That dress is beautiful,” Dinah said. “Who’s the designer?”

Marinette beamed, “I am. I love fashion. It’s my dream,” She explained. “I plan on launching my own company. While there’s always room to learn and enhance my designing skills, I feel as if I have that side at least somewhat covered. However, the business angle is something I need to learn. Which is why I plan on getting my MBA at an Ivy League. I was considering Yale or Princeton.”

“Princeton,” Oliver grinned. “Did you hear that Roy?” Roy rolled his eyes, and once again, regretted being born. “Marinette’s considering Princeton. That’s the top school on his list. Queens have gone there for generations.” He pulled his wife into a hug. “It’s where I knew Dinah was the one.”

Dinah gave Marinette a blank stare, “I couldn’t get rid of him. It was like having bedbugs.” (“Hey!” Oliver cried in protest.) “No matter what I did, he just coming back. The only solution was to burn the entire place down and vanish without a trace. But apparently, that’s illegal or whatever. Stupid.”

“I know, right,” Marinette nodded earnestly. “What’s up with that?”

They had a wonderful dinner. They watched a paparazzi pretending to be a waiter be escorted out of the restaurant. It was great, amazing even. Oliver and Dinah had been perfectly lovely. Roy had acted like a perfect gentleman. Marinette could’ve almost pretended she was actually meeting her boyfriend’s family. She was about to count the entire night as a win until…

“So how many grandkids should I expect in the future,” Oliver asked, a sincere look on his face, though he was snickering inside.

Marinette chocked on her chocolate mousse and ended up in a coughing fit that Dinah helped her with. Roy had met his father’s gaze and gave him his most charming smile, “Seven,” He answered.

“Seven!” Marinette barked out and she looked around frantically as if Ashton Kutcher had revived his hit show and was about to pop out.

Oh, gods; please let me be getting punked, Marinette prayed.

Oliver’s eyebrows went up, “Seven, huh, big family.”

Roy hummed, “the Wayne-Queens certainly will be.”

“You mean the Queen-Waynes,” Oliver corrected, his hackles rising.

“Well, I figured since we’d be living in Gotham,” Roy didn’t even bother to hide his smirk. “We’d go by the Wayne-Queen family. I actually found this great place not too far from Wayne Manor. Plenty of room for the kids, maybe a dog or two; a rose garden. You know how Waynes are about their roses. You can visit whenever.”

Marinette might have momentarily blacked out during this. It was how Marinette knew she had officially lost that round to Santa.

Oliver and Dinah just looked at Roy; their entire bodies stiff.

Dinah took a long drink from her wine glass, “Gotham has such a high crime rate. Have you considered Star City, Marinette?”

“I’ve never been,” Marinette said sweetly. “But I could live anywhere really. I’m pretty open.”

Roy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “Yes, but I figured you’d want to spend as much time with your family as possible. Jason’s my best friend. I love Gotham. It just works. Besides Bruce Wayne would make an amazing grandpa.”

The grip Oliver had on his dessert fork made Marinette fear for Roy’s life. It was time to step in. “I suppose Robb or Thea would love a big backyard to play in.”

That got the other three’s attention.

“Robb? Thea?” Oliver whispered. His throat was dry. His brain tried to process what was said.

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But Roy and I started talking one day and well,” Marinette trailed off. A soft pink blush appeared on Marinette’s face, enhancing her overall innocent aura. She had done background on the Queen family. “Our firstborn; if it’s a boy Robb as in Robert Thomas; for your father and my grandfather. If it’s a girl, Thea Sabine; for your sister and my mother. It was Roy’s idea. He knows how much you loved them.”

It was then that Marinette got to check off one more wish off her list. It had been made as a joke in passing to Chloe and Kagami months ago. They had been having a girls’ night. When Chloe, ever prepared, asked what they wanted for Christmas. They had been watching a Justice League fight on the news. Marinette had laughed and said she wanted to show them up one day; make a superhero cry.

However, watching The Green Arrow tear up while the Black Canary comforted himself, made her think that Santa took her to wish out of context.

Roy was pulled into a big hug by his parents, and he sent her a vicious glare, and mouthed, “What did you do?”

Oliver pulled back, wiped his eyes, and said, “You know; there’s nothing like a spring wedding in Star City.”

Marinette threw down her napkin.

Fuck Santa.

The news had a field day. The picture of Marinette in her dress and Roy in his designer suit was what everyone was talking about. The women of the view talked about her outfit. Wendy Williams talked about her outfit. It was as if Marinette was living in another universe.

Nothing could bring her down.

“What the hell?” Jason asked as he picked her up for school. “Why the fuck is Roy spamming me with hate texts. Why the fuck is Oliver arguing with B over visitation rights to his grandchildren? Who the Fuck are Robb and Thea? And why the fuck is Dad asking Aquaman if Atlantis really sunk on its own, or if it had a little help?”

Marinette tiled her head, “Is Papa planning on sinking Star City? And that’s forty dollars for the swear jar.” Her parents had implements after one too many curse words were thrown around.

“Worth it!” Jason said. “And yes, I’ve positive that’s what’s going to happen. It’s gonna be amazing. Also, he’s gonna kill Roy!”

“He deserves it,” Marinette crossed her arms.

“Hey!”

“He put his hand on my butt!”

Jason paused and narrowed his eyes. “Correction. I’m gonna kill Roy.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but then she realized something. “Aren’t they’re usually two of you? Where’s the other one?” It was the routine. She was always escorted into school by two members of the Wayne family.

Jason smirked, “You’ll see.”

The paparazzi mostly screamed the usual things at her. At that point, she was used to it. It was the few changes at school that she was used to.

Damocles had been fired for bribes and severe negligence. He was replaced by Mendeleev. Bustier had been fired for her role in Marinette’s expulsion without proper procedure and basically catering to bullies while blaming the victim. She replaced by a sterner teacher name Miss Reed. She was by the book and not afraid to call in the higher-ups if something smelled fishy.

The first was any and all forms of bullying in class was no longer tolerated. The school had issued a zero-tolerance policy that the kids in Bustier’s class had felt immediately.

The second was Lila’s supposed medical history. No doctor’s note, no special treatment. It was also required that Lila present a note from her mother regarding any future absences.

The third was Adrien’s being pulled randomly out of class. CPS got involved real fast regarding child labor laws.

The days of her classmates getting away with bloody murder were over. Reed saw everything. Everything.

Alya, who had returned to class always avoided Marinette at all times. Her parents had given her the biggest talking to about respecting others’ right to privacy. Marinette had agreed to drop any legal charges against her former friend provided she adhere to the cease and desist order. The girl knew too much about Marinette. And Marinette needed to make it clear that she would bury the girl in lawsuits before she’d allowed even one-fourth of it to be made public.

Jason had walked her to class. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he went directly to the back of the class and took a seat next to Chloe. He pulled out his phone and proceeded to ignore the curious looks from the students.

The blond eyed the ripped jeans, the overly sized red flannel shirt, and the beat-up leather jacket, “Grunge died in the 90s. Like it deserved.”

Jason, not bothering to look up from his phone, “Paris Hilton said it’s cool that you plagiarized her look.”

Chloe gasped.

Marinette just looked up at the ceiling, knowing exactly how this was going to go. Chloe would not forgive this. Jason was an asshole. It would be war.

Miss Reed walked in and didn’t look twice at Jason.

Marinette narrowed her eyes; something was up.

The class went on without a hitch though until just about the end of the first period…

When Tim and a pretty, brown-haired, tanned skin, an older woman walked in the door. They looked to be having a pleasant conversation.

“Mama,” Lila gasped, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” She looked around frantically.

“Ooohhhh,” Marinette nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” That was what was happening. Operation: Get That Bitch.

“Oh!” Tim feigned surprised. “I didn’t know your daughter was in my sister’s class, Naomi.”

Naomi had been pleasantly surprised when Tim Drake, the CEO of Wayne Industries reached out to speak to her about potential business ventures in Italy. He was in Paris visiting his sister and wanted an insider perspective on Italy’s economy and tourist information. Her bosses were thrilled. Wayne opening up a site in Italy would do wonders for the overall economic and industrial growth. Then they got to talking about a potential student exchange program that Wayne Industries were willing to fund.

What Tim hadn’t told the Ambassador was that Wayne Industries had been scouting locations in Italy for their new plant for the last ten months. All the research was done. Everything was primed to go. Still, Tim was kind enough to ensure that Naomi Rossi received the credit for getting Wayne Industries on board.

Mrs. Rossi blinked in surprise, “I had no idea either. Lila, we’re here to discuss a potential international exchange program for kids all over the world. Tim wanted to say hello to his sister. Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Marinette Wayne?”

Marinette leaned forward in her seat. A slow smile spread across her face.

“I, well, I,” Lila struggled to say.

“We’re not the closest, Mrs. Rossi,” Marinette offered. “She’s always so busy, we haven’t had the time.”

“Ahh,” Tim snapped his fingers. “That Lila Rossi. Marinette told me all about her.” He crossed his arms. “Naomi, how was Achu? I haven’t gone yet. But from what Marinette’s told of Lila’s stories, you two go all the time. You become close to the royal family, yes?”

Coldness went down to Naomi Rossi’s spine. She stiffened. Her eyes went to her daughter who had a look of dread on her face. Not this again, she nearly groaned. “There’s been some… confusion,” Mrs. Rossi said, gearing up every ounce of diplomacy she learned in her twenty-year career. Lila was so grounded after this. “A miscommunication, I suppose. My ambassadorship has taken my family to England, Spain, and Japan for a little while, and here in France, of course. However, nowhere else. We have never been to Achu. That is a bit above my paygrade, I’m afraid,” She laughed nervously.

The class was as silent as a library. If Bustier was still there, a few students would’ve started yelling their complaints and cries for explanations. One or two would’ve started screaming at Lila for lying. But Bustier was gone. And the look Reed was giving her class, dared them to try.

Tim chuckled, “Kids. When I was seven I swore I spent the summer in Greece with my parents. I didn’t find out until I was eleven that I was actually in Rome. What can you do?” He gave her his most charming smile. “England, was that where Lila met Jagged Stone? I think he’s from there.”

“Jagged who now?” Naomi asked. “The Rock Star? No, Lila’s never met him. She’s a huge fan though.”

“But he wrote a song about her!” Alya cried out. “She saved his cat from getting hit by a plane!”

Miss Reed, “Alya, please raise your hand and keep to a reasonable level while inside. It will be detention if I have to tell you again.”

Miss Reed and Mendeleiev had agreed to The Wayne's suggestion of revealing Lila’s lies to the class. It was the only way they would believe it and that she could lie her way out of. It was unnatural the way the students trailed after the girl, simpering over grand stories and promises of famous connections. They needed to learn to rely on hard work and their own talent, not on how many famous people they might get to the chance to meet.

“A plane?” Mrs. Rossi asked, an affronted look on her face. “You think I would ever allow my child to be in such danger?” She looked at her daughter. “Your grandmother always said you would be a grand writer with all the stories you tell. You could’ve at least come with a sensible lie.”

“I can explain,” Lila said but whether she was talking to her mother or class was anyone’s guess.

Rose raised her hand, “Lie? Lila can’t be lying. What about all the trips she takes with you? The charity organizations she runs? The famous people she knows like Clara Nightingale who always ask her for help. She’s close friends with Prince Ali. That’s why she’s always away from school. One time she was gone for weeks.”

Naomi Rossi looked at her daughter, who did everything she could to avoid eye contact with her mother. “You told me that the school was closed due to the Akumas. It was a lie.” She looked at the teacher. “If the school wasn’t closed, Lila should have only missed three days of school this semester due to her being ill with the flu. She should have only missed seven to ten days in total last year. I do apologize, my daughter…” She gave Lila a dark look. “Seems to have a talent for tall tales.”

Miss Reed stood up, “It’s a matter for the Principle. Her last teacher overlooked many things and wrote off what she couldn’t. Her schoolwork was done the year before; her grades were good enough to pass. She has not missed too many days so far; a few more than the average student but it happens. Any homework missed can still be made up. She is welcome in my class. However, when you get the chance, I would like make an appointment to discuss with you any medical accommodations she has that need to be addressed.”

Mrs. Rossi crossed her arms, “She never wears her glasses. She has sensitive eyes that prevent her from wearing contacts. Without them, she can’t see more than a few feet ahead of her.” She looked straight at her daughter. “And she knows this.”

Marinette wanted to bang her head against the desk. Why couldn’t Lila just say that? She’d have understood.

Mrs. Rossi looked at the class, “I am so sorry for any trouble my daughter may have caused.” She looked at Tim. “I hope this doesn’t cast a negative light on any prospective business relations.”

Tim shook his head, “Kids will be kids. Let’s continue to speak over lunch.”

“I’ll see you at home, Lila,” Mrs. Rossi said.

Tim grinned, “Marinette, I’ll see you after school. Jason.”

Jason got to leave only to stumble nearly down the stairs. He cast a quick glare at Chloe.

The blond gave him a vicious smirk, “Walk much?”

“Oh it’s on,” Jason hissed.

Marinette rolled her eyes. Last year, she had wished with all her might that her friends would see Lila for who she really was. Now the truth was out. Lila had been exposed.

Regrettably, Marinette had already lost all her friends. And those who were still her friends, already knew the truth. So it wouldn’t change much. She’d had already forgiven her ex-friends a long time ago. Marinette just had to intention of being friends with them again. Still, it was a victory.

Fuck Santa; this round went Marinette.

The Justice League had been stunned when they learned that the masked hero Ladybug who was protecting Paris in an adorable bright red suit, who seemed to be made of sunshine, rainbows, and happiness was Batman’s daughter. Like so stunned that as soon as they saw her secret Identity of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and her takedown of monsters twelve times her size; one or two (or twelve) asked Superman to take a DNA test too. Because Bruce Wayne wasn’t the only black-haired Superhero around, and you know things happen.

…Batman hadn’t been happy when Oracle alerted him that someone in the Watch Tower was running his daughter’s DNA against Superman’s.

“How sure are we?” Hal Jordan asked. “The DNA results never came back. How do we know she’s not Big S’s?”

The main members of the Justice League were waiting for Batman and his family to arrive. Then they were would officially be introduced to the hero Ladybug.

Superman glared, “Stop it. Batman already brought out the kryptonite the last time you mentioned it.”

Wonder man nodded, “Her civilian self is the spitting image of Bruce.”

“All of his kids have dark hair and light eyes,” The Flash reminded them. “One of like seven or twelve, or however many he has now, we know for sure is his.”

“They are all his,” Black Canary stated with a growl. She and Oliver had adopted Roy when he was young but that didn’t make the boy any less hers.

Just then the light of the zeta beam sounded and Batman and Ladybug appeared in the room. The clear contrast between the two was startling.

The Dark, brooding, Knight of Gotham dressed in all black with a look on his face that could’ve made Superman wince in fear. Ladybug, dressed in bright red, with a big, cheerful, smile on her face and large blue eyes that looked positively mesmerized by the heroes.

“I brought cookies,” The small girl chirped as she motioned to the goodies in her hands. “And apple pie! It’s a family recipe. I made them myself. I really hope you like them.”

Batman glared worsen to the point where a few Justice League members feared for their lives. The message was clear; they’d like them. Or else.

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Diana smiled. “Come on, let me show you where we’ll be meeting.

Marinette tried not to stare in awe at her favorite superhero. “I also brought Vegan. And gluten-free cookies. I wanted to make sure everyone could get some.” She said as she was led away.

The world-renowned heroes visibly cooed at the young hero. She was the most adorable thing they’d ever laid eyes on.

The Flash laughed, “What did you bring, Bats?”

“Death,” Batman growled as stalked after his daughter.

Cyborg swallowed hard. “I’m not saying you’re right,” He told Hal and Barry. “I’m saying for this type of situation; Maury is classier than Jerry Springer.”

Superman groaned. They were going to get him killed.

“Apple pie!” The flash said. “She brought Apple, Clark; it’s a sign from the gods.”

Ladybug briefing them on her hero journey had been riveting. The Justice League had always been aware of Ladybug's existence. Once aware of her, Diana had told them all the history of the Miraculous and how her own mother used to be one of the users. Ladybug, with Chat Noir for a time, handled herself and protected the city well. They saw no reason to interfere. The Justice League had strict rules of interfering with another’s heroes’ turf. They figured if Ladybug needs help, the hero would call on them. They never knew she was a child.

Her age bothered them.

“She can’t protect the city,” Aquaman said. “We’ll need to step in.”

“Excuse me,” Marinette said.

The Flash nodded, “We’ll need to run Intel. I’ll have Vibe take a look at things.”

“Wait! I don’t think you-” Marinette started but was cut off.

“The magic is ancient and powerful,” Hawkman interrupted. “We should call Constantine. Or Doctor Fate perhaps.”

Ladybug shook her head, “That wouldn’t be a good idea!”

Green Lantern waved her off, “It’s fine, kid. We’ll handle it. While we’re at it; consider joining Young Justice or Teen Titans. Get you some training before you call yourself a real hero. Until then stick with the little league team.”

Marinette froze. What did he just say? White-hot anger coursed through her veins.

And to think she always dreamed of meeting the Justice League; of standing face to face with the heroes after having proven herself; proven that she was just as much of a superhero as they. However, Marinette knew she was already a hero. And no one would tell her otherwise.

The round went to Santa. But Marinette would have her due.

Fuck Santa!

Superman said, “We’ll start having unplaced league members scouting the area. They’ll notify us at the first sign of Hawkmoth.”

“ENOUGH!” Marinette yelled. She growled at the heroes. “Who the hell do you think you are?” The silence that followed that question was deafening. “You know nothing of Hawkmoth; saw nothing of what I’ve been through. There is a reason I never called in the league. Superpowered individuals still have emotions; still anger. He can turn any of you into akumas. Get inside your heads; learn who you really are. You’ll be a toy for him. Batman brought me here to meet you; not for you to pretend you know how to do my job.”

She glared at the room and then zeroed in on the Green Lantern. Within seconds, Ladybug had yanked him out of his seat, pulled the ring off his finger, and held by his collar as the man detransformed. “Real Hero? You think I’m not a real hero? I’ve fought monsters nightmares couldn’t even begin to fathom. You want to see what I’m capable of, Glow Stick? How about I take you to the nearest training room and see if you bleed green?”

Batman stood up, “My team will be running point on the Paris situation; following Ladybug lead. You’ll refrain from entering the city of Paris until further notice. That is all.” He looked at his daughter and had to fight to keep the smile off his face. “Ladybug let Green Lantern go, and give him back his ring.”

Ladybug huffed, “I’ll give him back his ring. And then I want ten minutes alone with him.”

Hal gulped.

“No,” Batman said. “We must leave. You have to get ready for Winter break. Next time.”

Ladybug glared and then dropped the hero on the ground. “Next time,” She promised.

Then swiftly the father and daughter duo departed.

Once the two were gone, Wonder Woman chuckled, “Anyone else want to question Ladybug’s Paternity. Anyone?”

Barry had to fight the shivers that went through him. Ladybug had Batman’s glare and knew how to use it. “Nope. Never again.”

Marinette’s first night in Gotham was memorable. The entire bat family had been waiting for Marinette when she arrived; Bruce, Alfred, Kate, Dick, Barbara, Jason, Cassandra, Tim, Stephanie, Luke, and Damian. Alfred, the man her brothers had deemed their grandfather, had welcomed her with open arms and a dinner that was more like a feast than a simple meal.

On the outside, Wayne manor looked like any home in the neighborhood; quiet, idealistic, and seemingly perfect.

On the inside, as soon as Bruce and Alfred stepped away for a moment, her siblings took her to the Batcave. It was as grand as she always imagined. Then someone (Tim) brought out lightsabers.

Marinette thought it was a fancy version of the toy she used to love so much as a kid; her only complaint was that the plastic swords only came in green, red and the occasional blue. She really wanted a pink one and had put it on her Christmas list for two years straight.

She pressed the button, only for the sword handle to heat up, and a pink laser rises out of it. “Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“…This is a real lightsaber,” The heat from the sword threated to burn or hand a little. Or worse. She’d seen all the movies. She knew how this usually ended up.

“Yep.”

Marinette nodded slowly. Because what the heck.

“Just go with it,” Luke shrugged. “Just-just go with it.” He sounded like a defeated man. A tired one at that.

“Don’t be like that!” Dick smiled, “Family bond time is the best time.”

“Jedi versus Sith?” Marinette just asked.

Tim pointed a bright gold lightsaber at her, “Jedi versus Sith.”

Marinette looked around at the different colored and very, very dangerous lightsabers. There was no way this could possibly go well. And with the way her Kate, aka Batwoman, was smirking there was no way Alfred would consider her proper adult supervision. Someone was going to lose a hand. Or die. Most likely both.

But she wouldn’t back down. This was more or less her eight-year-old self’s dream. It was also likely to get her killed.

…Marinette would take those odds.

“What team am I on?” She asked.

Cassandra shook her head, “Up to you. Good versus is a chose; just a game though,” She cast Stern looks at Jason, Tim, and Damian, who now sported black robes, clearly, by the Darth Maul make up that had somehow appeared on Damian’s face, were clearly Sith Lords.

Santa thought this would scare her. That she would be cowed into submission. Finally admit defeat. Well, Marinette only had one thing to say to that. Two things actually.

“Give in to the dark side, sister,” Damian ordered her. His lightsaber was red and had two sides to it much like the character he matched.

Marinette got into a fighting stance, “Not today.”

And Fuck Santa.

…

Alfred and Bruce were not happy when they finally located the children.

Or the fact that someone had to get their hand reattached.

It was two to two. Christmas day had arrived. Marinette had expected the worst; had geared up for the worst.

Nothing happened.

Marinette spent the day with her family.

Her parents had even arrived from Paris on the day before Christmas eve.

They shared presents. They sang songs. The entire family was together. It snowed outside. She and all of her siblings had a snowball fight while her parents and Alfred watched from the porch.

It was a perfect Christmas day.

Except for one thing…

Marinette knew the truth.

The perfect day was the result of one thing…

Santa was preparing too. He didn’t back down. The fight wasn’t over yet. He was too busy to mess with her on Christmas Eve or Christmas. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean anything.

Everyone knew the Holiday season didn’t officially end until January 1st.

After New Year’s eve.

That was the final round.

The match to end all matches.

On New Years’ Eve, it would be war.

Roy wore a tailored tux as he walked her down the carpet, passed the flashing lights of the paparazzi.

Marinette never thought she’d fight the most battle of her life in a ballgown. It was a jaw-dropping, off the shoulder, floor length silver dress with lacy unique floral accents. Her hair was in a side-braid with small forget-me-nots on top of her hair like a crown.

It was her battle armor, and she was ready for anything.

It was a promise, she made to herself.

…

Okay so it turns out, Marinette lied to herself.

She wasn’t ready for anything. She did not stand a chance against Santa. He was a jerk. And she was six-second from throwing in the towel and running off crying.

Marinette had known exactly who was attending the ball. She had memorized every guest on the list. Trying to figure out exactly what the fat guy who throws out her. As soon as she saw exactly which celebrities were coming. She knew.

The first punch had been the man ten-year-old Marinette swore she was going marry. Harry freaking Styles.

But Marinette had prepared herself. It would be a quick conversation and then she wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the night.

When she met the superstar, Marinette had smiled and laughed; had a good conversation, wasn’t even awkward at all. She wasn’t the overly One Direction obsessed 10-year-old anymore.

It was a hard hit, and the best conversation of her life, but Marinette didn’t go down.

Santa’s next move was a cheap shot, and she stumbled.

Marinette had been trying to find a quiet place to think for herself so could get strengthen up a bit but, to avoid one of her brothers (Dick), she collided straight into Nick Jonas and fell on her butt.

She hadn’t even realized it at first as he helped her up.

“Thank you,” Marinette said kindly, as she brushed off her dress. When she looked up and saw exactly who had collided with, her face turned a bright red. “You’re Nick Jonas,” She squeaked; literally squeaked. She wanted to die.

Nick Jonas. She loved Nick Jonas. She listen to all his songs; even his old Jonas Brothers ones. She had always wanted to meet the singer; she had dreamed about it.

“Yeah,” Nick smiled. “You alright.”

No. Marinette was not alright.

Still, she chirped a quick, “I’m fine.” And introduced herself.

Then he said, “Love your dress.”

“I made it! I can make you one!” Slipped out before she could stop it.

He just laughed though, “How about a suit instead?”

Yeah, so that happened.

And the night just got worse from there.

…

Santa gave her a combo hit; worthy of a champion.

Not many knew but Marinette was a huge Harry Potter fangirl. Hermione Granger was her all-time favorite. She was a hardcore Harmony shipper; Harry/Hermione forever.

Tim knew it though. He was a big-time fan as well. And he thought it would be a great idea to introduce Marinette to the actress who played her favorite character; Emma Watson.

It was not a good idea. At all.

The first words out of Marinette’s mouth upon seeing Emma Watson were literally, “It's leviOsa, not levioSA!”

And it was at the point that Marinette just wanted to call it a night.

Emma had laughed it off, promising she got it all the time.

…

Marinette met Chris Hemsworth and just wouldn’t stop giggling.

Stephanie had to pull her away.

It was then that she knew Santa had her on the ropes.

…

She met Big Time Rush.

The boy band had become internally famous over the last few years. Not as big as One Direction but they still had their dedicated fans. Marinette was one of them

Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Carlos Garcia, and Logan Mitchell. They were all eighteen

It should’ve have been easy. She liked their band but not nearly as much as she liked Harry Styles, or Emma Watson, Or Chris Hemsworth.

Still, she hadn’t seen James asking her to dance coming.

However, Marinette had remained calm and cool.

It’s a pity, she was still such a klutz.

Suffice to say, Marinette wouldn’t be listening to Big Time Rush for a while. And James Diamond wouldn’t be asking strange girls to dance any time soon.

Santa gave her a punch right in the face.

…

She ran into Tom Holland the exact moment she got the hiccups. He did his best to help her get rid of them

…

Marinette had just stuffed an entire cupcake in her mouth when she realized Jennifer Lawrence was standing next to her. It wasn’t too bad. As the blond did the same thing a second later.

…

She pointed at Johnny Depp and said, “Jack Sparrow. You’re Jack Sparrow. Oh my god!!!”

To which he replied, “Captain Jack Sparrow.”

…

Suffice to say, Santa didn’t have Marinette on the robes anymore.

No, Marinette was on the floor; waiting for the referee to call it.

…

It was an hour until the official New Year. Fifteen minutes until Marinette was supposed to perform. She was backstage. Everyone was waiting for her. She promised Tim.

And she found that she just couldn’t do it.

The entire night was too much.

It was all too much.

It was over.

She had lost.

“Rough night?” Roy, her date and pretend boyfriend asked.

Marinette was sitting on a chair, her face in her hands, “You have no idea.”

Roy sat next to her, “Pretty exciting though right?” He didn’t get an answer. “Tim said you met Emma Watson, that had to be awesome.”

“It was embarrassing.”

Roy frowned, “Sabine told me you used to dress up as Hermione Granger all time. You’re saying meeting the Queen herself wasn’t even a little cool?”

Yeah, it had been amazing to meet her in person. “A little cool.”

Roy chuckled, “You met Harry Styles,” He reminded. “And from your blond bestie told me; my only real competition.”

Marinette giggled. “That had been… awesome.” And everything.

“You met Chris Hemsworth,” He added. “Tom Holland, Big Time Rush, and a bunch of other celebs that I’ve been told you were huge fans of. Yeah, you were a little embarrassed.” He shook his head. “But I don’t get it; I’d be so psyched right now if I were you. So why aren’t you.”

Marinette paused.

Why wasn’t she?

Marinette had met people she never even dared to really hope she’d ever meet one day. She wore the most beautiful dress in her entire life; danced with Roy Queen and James Diamond. Joked with Harry Styles. Talked Emma Watson the actress who played the character she loved most out of all the books, tv shows, and movies she’d ever loved.

It was all a matter of perspective really. Marinette was so focused on the bad, she never even realized just how great it was. Santa had thrown the worst at her but was still there. She hadn’t run back to Wayne Manor no matter how much she had wanted to. She stayed strong.

At one point, she knew for certain that she wouldn’t just surrender; after the Chris Hemsworth incident. If Santa wanted to win, he was going to have to knock her out.

“Thanks, Roy,” She said. “I couldn’t wish for a better date.”

It was the most amazing night of her life.

And no one was going to make her feel otherwise.

Marinette stood up, determination on her face.

She had a song to sing.

…

Marinette stood on stage. The crowd looked up at her. Her hands were shaking. Her mouth felt dry. The lights were near blinding. She had changed the song at the last minute. The music was coming from her phone anyway.

Marinette knew the lyrics to the song by heart; had sung it a thousand times in her room to herself.

She could do this.

I will do this, Marinette swore.

The music started. It was her favorite song. And Marinette was going to sing it so loudly, so proudly; they could hear her in the North Pole.

“What if I told you

It was all meant to be

Would you believe me

Would you agree

It's almost that feelin'

That we've met before

So tell me that you don't think I'm crazy

When I tell you love has come and now.”

She was doing it. Marinette was really doing it. She always had a good voice. She had taken singing lessons for a long time. And her teachers always praised her talent. But after one terrible incident, she never thought she’d ever get on stage and sing in front of anyone again.

But there she was.

“A moment like this

Some people wait a lifetime

For a moment like this

Some people search forever…

Honestly, Marinette could fall right on her face and it would stop the euphoric feeling coursing through. This was her victory song.

Jolly Saint Nick had thrown at her more than she ever thought she could take. But she was still standing.

And as long as she was, the big red guy would never win.

For that one special kiss

Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me

Some people wait a lifetime

For a moment like this…”

The music faded. The applause from the audience roared.

…

Marinette and Roy slow danced to something my Celine Dion neither could recognize. The New Year was less than two minutes away.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Roy smirked. He knew he was good at Pep talks to matter what Artemis said.

“I feel better,” Marinette admitted. “It’s been an awesome few weeks.”

“Yeah?” Roy asked as he twirled her around.

Marinette nodded, “Nearly Every. One. Of. My. Christmas wishes came true.” She tried not to growl. Positive outlook after.

“Santa must be out to get you.”

Marinette looked up at Roy with appreciation, “You have no idea.”

“Anything he didn’t get to?” The redhead asked. “Something you can do for yourself first?”

“Countdown to New Years in 10!”

Marinette thought about it for a second but she realized there was. There was one more thing on her list, that she added at the very beginning of Christmas.

“Yeah, there is.” She said. “Do you want to kiss me.”

Roy nodded earnestly.

The crowd counted down. “7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1” And then Marinette kissed Roy.

Balloons came from above. Everyone cheered. But Marinette kept kissing Roy.

She always wanted a New Year’s kiss.

Take that and stick it up your chimney, Santa.

Marinette was officially the winner.

Nevertheless, there was always next year.

But for now, fuck Santa!

#ml salt #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #batfamily

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

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that makes four.

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PART 5

“Girls,” why don’t you finish your homework and set the table while dad and I talk for a minute?”

“Can daddy stay for dinner?” CeCe reached for his hand and looked up at you, a sweet but pleading smile on her face.

“Can’t actually, honey,” Luke informed. “I’ve got somewhere to be, so--this has to be quick, unfortunately.”

“Great,” you nodded, bitterness laced through your words. “Girls, just give us one second, okay?"

You made eye contact with Maeve, communicated a look that said please bring your sister inside. She did, she pulled her by the shoulder and offered to let her fold the napkins--her favorite part.

You shut the door one they were back in the house, turned to Luke and crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“To visit.”

“Okay, well, where have you been for the last six months? My dad died--you didn’t think to visit when they lost their grandfather?”

“I’ve been busy,” he whined, letting his hands slap against his legs as if you were nagging him unnecessarily. “Better late than never.”

“Not how that works, but okay.”

“Y/N--can I just come in, hang out with them for a bit?”

“You can’t just come in and out of their lives, Luke, whenever it’s convenient. You either show up with some consistency or you don’t show up at all.”

“So you’d rather them not have a relationship with their father than have one that’s maybe not up to your standards?”

You were back in your marriage, suddenly, back to the fights and the frustration that became a dance you knew all too well. “They’re kids, Luke! Their parents got divorced and then their grandpa died and we moved and now you’re just here on my doorstep. Where’s your girlfriend, anyway?”

You looked past his shoulder--his car was parked on the gravel, apparently he remembered the entry code for the gate. The blonde woman who dangled from his arm on Facebook and the motorcycle he rode were nowhere to be found.

“She’s at home. And she would love to meet the girls, you know.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You can’t just show up with no notice and take them to meet some random woman you’re sleeping with.”

“Well, do we have to get lawyers involved in this, then? I’m pretty sure I deserve some level of custody over my own children.”

“Now you want custody? I mean--you literally didn’t reply to my calls about settling that in court when we actually got divorced so forgive me for thinking that meant you didn’t care.”

“I want to be able to see my kids, Y/N.”

“Okay--well maybe you can call me in the morning and we can schedule something instead of you showing up at my house.” You turned around to grab the doorknob, but before your hand landed on it, the door pulled open and Harry was stood on the other side with intrigue in his eyes.

“Harry--” you were about to tell him to go inside and stay out of it, but he stuck his hand out in Luke’s direction and smiled.

“Luke--nice to put a face to the name.”

Luke shook his hand but narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Harry.”

“You look familiar--” Luke mumbled this to no one in particular, but his eyes caught yours when you offered him a small smile.

“He’s a client of Jeff’s--he’s a musician.”

Luke made a face at that. “Okay--why are you here?”

“I live here,” Harry said. “With your children and ex-wife.”

“Harry,” you said his name again in warning. He didn’t even look at you, kept his eyes trained on Luke’s as if this was some sort of show down.

Luke nodded slowly, brought his eyes to you. “So our children can’t meet my girlfriend but they can live with a stranger.”

“He’s not a stranger, Luke. He’s known Jeff and the Azoffs for years--he knew my dad.”

“You didn’t think to ask me if that was okay?”

“You never returned my texts about my dead father or asking if you wanted to see them, so, it didn’t really cross my mind.”

Harry took a step in front of you. “Why are you here, man? I think that’s a better question.”

“I could do without the attitude, dude, okay? I can come to see my children if I want.”

“Just curious, since we’re about to eat dinner and I know Maeve’s not done with her homework.”

You rolled your eyes at that--an obvious flex that Harry was more in the know about your kids than he was. Your heart beat was rising, eyes flickering between the two of them.

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to see my own kids.”

“You don’t need mine, but maybe actually co-parenting with Y/N would be a good place to start.”

“Oh so she’s got you playing by all her rules, too?”

“Luke--”

“If you want to call her rules stability, for your children, then sure.”

“So you think you can move in here and just take over as father or something, is that what’s happening? Is there something going on--”

“No--I’m not their father, but I know that Y/N is an incredible mother--”

“Harry, please.”

“So you’re sleeping with this guy and he moves in and that’s fine but they can’t meet my girlfriend.”

“No one said we’re sleeping together, Luke,” you made a face at that, crossed your arms over your chest again and watched him with narrowed eyes.

“Are you?” He looked between the two of you, waiting for an answer like he suddenly had a right to know that information.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “S’none of your business.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, good luck with her, maybe one day she’ll divorce you and then tell you that you can’t see your own kids--didn't know I married such a control freak.”

Harry swung before you could even process the insult, his fist collided with Luke’s face and you let out a gasp. “Harry--are you fucking insane?!”

You rushed over to Luke, now clutching his face on the ground as he swore to himself. “Fucking fuck, that’s a perfectly clear answer, dude--good to know you’re sleeping with her.”

The door had already pulled open again, both Maeve and CeCe looked out into the evening air with wide eyes, uncertainty on their faces when Harry turned around to see them. “Go inside,” he said.

“Why?” Maeve shot this back with a prickly attitude. “What’s happening? Why is dad on the ground?”

“Just go inside,” Harry said it again, his words more stern.

“You’re not my dad, Harry, you can’t tell me what to do!”

Now was not the time for Maeve’s theatrics.

Luke shot back to his feet and lunged towards Harry, words interspersed between grunts when his own fist grazed the side of Harry’s jaw. “Don’t tell my kids what to do!”

Maeve pulled CeCe inside and shut the door quickly, some kind of instinct taking over her when you yanked at the back of Luke’s shirt. “Luke, get the fuck off of him!”

Harry shoved him back, he lost his footing and fell to the ground again but was quick to get up and brush the dirt off of his hands. You stood in front of Harry, who now rubbed at his jaw and looked more dejected than before, green eyes more somber when you shook your head.

“Both of you need to grow the fuck up--you just tried to beat each other up in front of the girls.”

Harry dropped your gaze and moved his jaw in circles, Luke glared with resentment, but they were both quiet.

“Go, Luke--you can’t show up and pull this shit, okay? We’re not doing it like this.”

“So now I don’t get to see my kids because your fucking boyfriend punched me in the face?”

“I didn’t say that!” You shouted, your volume making both of them flinch. “I never said you can’t see them but you certainly can’t just show up and expect me to take that well. We’re not talking about it now, so please, do everyone a favor and get the fuck out.”

He thought about it for a second, reached up to touch his cheek--already swollen and bruised--before he let out a sigh and looked at Harry. “Fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you too,” Harry said quickly.

“Go inside,” you said to Harry, a hand on his chest. “And ice that.”

Luke scoffed at your attempt to aid him, but when you turned to see him, he shrunk under your gaze.

“Get out!”

He turned and mumbled, “my lawyer will be in touch.”

“Mine looks forward to that call,” you said sweetly. He climbed into his car and pulled the door shut, Harry stood behind you, feet glued to the front step until Luke’s car pulled out onto the road.

When he was gone, you turned around. He hadn’t budged, he waited for you to say something, but you pulled your phone out and dialed Jeff’s number before you even addressed him.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hi--can you please come get the girls and take them out for dinner or something? Luke just showed up at my house and Harry punched him in the face and then Maeve and CeCe saw Luke try to punch Harry. So--I’m going to need some help. Immediately."

You could hear him grab his keys, he was in his car before he hung up and when you ended the call, the door had been pulled open again.

Maeve stepped out but closed it behind her. “I turned the stove off and CeCe’s watching TV. But I’m not going to lie, she’s suspicious.”

You let out a sigh that turned into a laugh, brought a hand up to your face. You didn’t know if you were mad or sad or amused or terrified. A mix of emotions when she looked up to Harry.

“Did you punch my dad in the face?”

He looked to you, eyes wide as if he needed your help to get out of this one.

You shrugged, not going to save your ass.

“I lost my temper and that was not okay,” he said.

“But then my dad punched you.”

More hesitance, but he nodded. “Right.”

They both looked to you. Quiet for a moment--was Maeve’s childhood shattered here in front of the house, broken atop the gravel that crunched under Luke’s tires when he drove away?

Hopefully not. Hopefully this wasn’t the moment she’d recount in adulthood, a therapist’s office somewhere on the East Coast, my mom let a pop star move in and then he punched my dad in the face.

“Uncle Jeff is coming and is going to take you and your sister out for dinner.” You didn’t know what else to tell her.

“Okay,” she accepted this, something told you she knew that this was serious and this was not something to ask a thousand questions about. “Can I say something?”

“Sure.”

“I think dad’s probably jealous because it’s obvious you guys like like each other.”

You watched her for a second, unable to piece together a rebuttal. So instead of replying, you told her to get her shoes on, tugged Harry inside and sat him at the island.

A bag of frozen peas was pressed to his jaw when Jeff showed up. Maeve and CeCe were in the living room with the TV on, both of them sat on the couch under a thick layer of tension.

“What the fuck happened?” Jeff asked quietly, car still running outside.

“You’ll have to ask your friend,” you said, scooping the uneaten dinner you’d made into Tupperware. “But maybe you can ask him later so I can yell at him first.”

Jeff smiled in your direction, approving of your reply. He looked to Harry, “don’t be an asshole.” He walked over to the living room without a word from Harry and greeted the girls.

“Be good,” you told them. They were quiet, waved goodbye and faded into the driveway once Jeff shut the door.

Silence, except for the crunching from the frozen peas when Harry shifted the bag against his jaw and tried not to wince in pain. He looked at you, guilt creased in his forehead.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

He sighed, dropped your gaze. “I’m sorry I punched your ex-husband in the face.”

“How about the fact that you came out there and got involved in the first place?”

This got him riled up. “Well I didn’t know what to do, Y/N! Maeve said you were talking to him and I wasn’t about to leave you alone with him.”

“I was married to him for 10 years. I know how to be alone with the guy.”

“I shouldn’t have punched him,” he admitted quickly.

“You shouldn’t have.”

He stood from the stool and set the peas down. “But I hated what he said about you--acting like you’re the bad guy here. You’re not.”

“I know I’m not, I didn’t need you to defend me!”

A step closer to you. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders, looked away for a second like he couldn’t say it. What was he supposed to say? I like you? I have feelings for you? Did he? You were just as confused as he looked.

“Because I feel like we’re a family, in a weird way, the four of us.”

Just as it always had, the word anchored itself beneath your ribs, made it hard to breathe when you tried to define it in your head.

A family? People related by blood. People who live together. People who love each other. You didn’t have the time or the patience to define it right now with him still looking at you like your silence hurt his feelings.

Maybe it got under your skin and maybe it warmed your heart at the same time. It was at least enough reassurance that you weren’t crazy, and you weren’t imagining all of this. Maybe he did have feelings for you in some way, maybe he did belong here somehow.

“I can’t believe all of that happened,” you said this seriously, but when you looked up at him again you couldn’t help but laugh. How idiotic--your ex husband and your ex-boyband house guest duked it out on the front lawn. Tristan was right, your life had suddenly become a trashy romance novel and that realization brought humor to an otherwise horrendous evening.

“What?” His lips tugged into a smirk.

“Am I going to get blacklisted for causing an injury to your perfect face? Is Jeff going to murder me when he brings the girls home?”

He rolled his eyes at your joke but smiled. “I’m the idiot that thought it was a good idea to punch the ex-husband of my--”

Your breath hitched in your throat, you let out a sigh when he shrugged and offered a verbal pivot. “It was stupid--you didn’t cause it.”

There was still an awkward amount of space between you. He’d stood up like he wanted to move closer to you instinctually, comfort you or touch you. But now you twisted a ring on your finger and didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll apologize to the girls, tell them it was wrong of me and talk to them about it.”

You nodded, was that appropriate? Should you be the one to discuss this with them? Where did you even start in regard to addressing Maeve’s comment at the front door?

“I think maybe I should talk to them.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Maybe I should clear it up with Maeve too, you know, just what she said about us.”

“Right--what are you going to say?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

He took a step closer to you. “You could tell her that she’s right.”

You looked up at him, eyes on his for a second like the world had been paused. You’d been speechless before. Maybe not often, and maybe not for reasons like this, but when you didn’t say anything, he took a step back.

“Sorry--you’re right. Best to not involve them.”

Your voice came out in a squeak, insecure and lacking the confidence you’d tried so hard to build. “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s what you were going to say, right?”

Was it?

“Yeah.”

He scratched at the back of his neck, slid the peas forward on the counter. “Thanks for these. I should probably shower.”

“Okay.”

A hesitance in him, you could see it. He took a step towards the stairs but kept his hand on the counter, a quick glance over his shoulder. “Are we alright?”

“Yeah, yes.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Certain. Goodnight, Harry.”

Jeff wasn’t mad at you about Harry’s face. If anything, he was mad at Luke for being an asshole and mad at Harry for being stupid enough to get involved. You didn’t dare tell him about the things he’d said in the kitchen when you were home alone.

Harry’s ego was bruised almost as bad as his jaw, which seemed to turn a darker shade of blue-ish yellow the next day.

Maeve was sat at the dining room table, eyes fluttered in annoyance when CeCe climbed into her seat and then looked at you. “Sorry,” she said. “I had to go pee.”

“That’s okay,” you nodded, letting out a sigh when you looked between them. “So, I called a family meeting because I wanted to talk about what happened the other day when dad was here.”

“When is he visiting again?” CeCe smiled, distracted by the mention of her absent parent.

“Not for a while,” Maeve answered with an eye roll. “He punched Harry.”

“They punched each other,” CeCe corrected with an attitude.

“Exactly, which is the problem, because as you both know we don’t use our hands to communicate in this house. We use words.”

“Well why didn’t Harry use words to tell dad that he likes you?”

“That’s not what was happening, Maeve.”

Was it wrong to lie to her? She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe you, like your words were just a cover up for whatever was really happening--you bit your lip when you realized that they were.

“Then why did they fight?”

“Because,” you said, exerting your mom-power. “They disagreed about something. Just like you two disagree sometimes.”

“We’re eleven and six,” Maeve made a face at you. “It’s age-appropriate for CeCe to pull my hair.”

You stared at her blankly--she was too smart for her own good. “But it’s wrong, any type of violence is wrong.”

“So is daddy coming to visit again or no?” CeCe was probably having trouble keeping up, she looked confused but invested when you smiled at her.

“Maybe--him and I still need to talk about that.”

“He never comes to see us!” Maeve complained, frustration in her voice when the front door opened. Harry--hair pushed back with a headband, curls escaped on the side and a dewy layer of sweat on his forehead--apparently he’d gone for a run.

The bruise on his jaw was visible. “Hi,” he looked around, solemn. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You said dad was going to visit us still when we moved here but he hasn’t!”

You turned back to Maeve, parenting duties outweighed your desire to take in the sight of Harry post-workout.

“I can’t control your father,” you reminded her. “We’ve talked about this--he loves you, but he…” you felt awkward saying it in front of Harry, a watered down version of the truth. “He’s not good at managing his time. He forgets things and he gets distracted. But he loves you.”

“Then why doesn’t he come visit?” Maeve asked, arms crossed over chest. She wore a purple shirt, one that you’d gotten at the Gap and that she used to say she hated, probably just because you said it looked nice on her.

Her voice was softer now, less angry and more confused, a tinge of sadness when Harry walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. Another thing he probably hadn’t planned on: witnessing uncomfortable family meetings where you tried to explain to your children why their father doesn’t keep in touch.

It was a fair question, you couldn’t blame her for asking and wondering. Why didn’t he reach out more? Why didn’t he make an effort to see them?

You couldn’t admit your own confusion to them. “He’s just busy, honey. He loves you both a lot, I know that. But I can talk to him and see if we can schedule a time for him to come see you.”

Harry paused at that--far away in the kitchen, glass to his lips when he stopped sipping and looked in your direction. When he noticed he’d been caught, he cleared his throat and headed out to the patio.

CeCe looked up at you with big eyes. “Can daddy come for my ballet recital?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. “I can ask him.”

That seemed to be good enough for them. Maeve was eager to head out to a friend’s house when her ride showed up and CeCe was more than happy to play in the backyard by herself.

Harry was stood on the patio still when CeCe ran to the swing set, glass of water still in his hand as if he hadn’t a clue what was going on. His eyebrows raised when you stood in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he turned to see you, hand on his hip. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to burst in there.”

“It’s fine, I think they get it. I mean, I don’t know, as much as they can, I guess.”

He nodded, stared at the ground when he spoke. “You know, I was thinking on my run--if this is too much I can talk to Jeff about staying at his. I don’t want to make--”

“No,” you shook your head, probably too quickly. Surprised by your own reply, you crossed your arms. “I mean, it’s fine. I just think maybe we should take a minute to figure out--”

“Right,” he nodded, cutting your sentence down to a half-formed thought. “Understood.”

He looked away at that, glanced down to his running shoes before he kicked at the patio slate beneath them.

You bit at the inside of your cheek, cursed yourself for how stupid you’d been. This is why you shouldn’t have let your guard down in the first place. First Luke, then your dad, now this type of stress all under one roof was possibly too much for everyone involved. The last 12 months had already snowballed into a mess of emotions and you should have known better.

As the adult in the equation, you were sure that this was all your fault.

And yet you wished it wasn’t--something in you wanted to walk over to him, wrap your arms around his middle and feel comforted by his touch. He brought his eyes to you and was about to speak when the alarm beeped. The front door opened, Tristan appeared through the glass doors and waved when CeCe ran over to see who the visitor was. Conversation effectively over.

“Hi,” he greeted with a smile, completely unaware that he’d just walked in at the worst time. “Glad I caught you both here. Sorry to barge in but I wanted to confirm details about the launch party so we can get it squared away.”

Harry stood awkwardly still, weight shifting on his feet when Tristan pulled out his phone to decline a call but kept talking. “I talked to Helen and Kira, the restaurant’s booked and the headcount is confirmed so we’re pretty much good to go.”

Right, the body wash debut and the celebratory dinner that Tristan had insisted on having. It was more than just the body wash debut: a celebration of how much Luna Skincare had grown, the launch of a whole new product line, a pick me up to try to make you feel less stressed, as Tristan had said.

Harry was confused, Tristan looked between the two of you. “Oh--did you...not tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

“About the dinner, the party we’re having,” Tristan shrugged and watched you, confused as to why you hadn’t looped Harry in.

It wasn’t purposeful. You’d spent countless showers contemplating if and how to invite him. Was he your date? Was he just a friend who was coming? Would he sit beside you or beside Jeff or was it better to leave him out of it altogether to avoid the questions and overthinking that had already saturated your brain before the event?

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know about it.”

Great, now you looked like an asshole. You laughed awkwardly to try and brush it off. “Well, we were still planning, I was going to invite you, of course. It’s for the body wash debut.”

He nodded, having gathered that much already.

You cleared your throat, the invitation a clear backtrack. “You should come, it’s just a dinner at La Cava. The team that worked on it, Jeff is coming, Zoey, some of our friends.”

He hesitated, glanced over to Tristan like he didn’t know how to reply but then looked back to you. “I thought we just said we--”

“It’s fine,” now you cut him off, a wave of your hand when you turned back to Tristan. “It’s gonna be great--do we have to finalize a menu?”

“I’ll have it on your desk by Tuesday morning.”

“Great, do you want to stay for dinner?”

He looked between the two of you, somehow aware of the tension that hovered above your backyard. “Can’t,” he said slowly. “I have a date, actually.”

“Oh, okay. Who’s the guy?”

“Someone I met online,” he shrugged. “Check my location and if I’m not home by midnight, please call the police.”

You laughed, “will do.”

He kissed you on the cheek and then waved to CeCe when she screamed BYE TRISTY!!!

Harry said something about taking a shower and seeing a friend that night, he dipped out the backdoor before dinner and you had no clue what time he got home. But that was for the best, right? You needed to take a step back to get your feet back on the ground.

You didn’t need to concern yourself with where he was or what he was doing--and the tiny voice of anxiety in the back of your brain reminded you that you definitely didn’t need to know who he was with.

Doing so had only made your emotions more jumbled. You’d been stupid enough to think there was something here, think that all of this meant something. And maybe it did, in moments. Harry had been the one to say that Maeve was right, but where did that sentence end? Maeve was right and: I have to go on tour, I’m too young to be a step father, I’m not looking for a serious relationship, I’m too busy for all of this.

The sentence likely ended with a fiery crash into flames and embarrassment.

Whatever was going on between the two of you--between the four of you, even--was a momentary blip on the radar of life. An extra set of hands when you needed them, someone to help things settle back into place after your life had been shaken up like the contents of a snow globe.

But somehow, eventually, things had to settle. You were only upset that it had been rattled again, by fists and bruises and angry words, before you were finally able to see that it was time for things to calm down.

He knew this too. He pulled back over the next week, spent less time downstairs and when you found yourself in the kitchen with him one night after the girls were asleep, a general sense of unease seemed to blanket the room.

Your phone dinged on the counter in front of him when he forked into a bowl of leftovers.

“Oh, you--uh--it’s a message from Luke.”

You were bent over at the dishwasher, the final plate tucked inside when you stood up, a wrinkle in your forehead at his words.

“Luke?”

He slid it over, took another bite and pretended to be disinterested.

Luke (9:24pm): Been thinking about it. Once every two months would be great. Don’t want to get lawyers involved--call me next week and we can talk about when to schedule something. Sorry about punching your friend.

You let out a breath you hadn’t meant to hold, licked at your lips when your eyes welled with tears. You looked up at Harry--who’d apparently been watching you. “Sorry, I’m fine, I just--”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s fine to only see the girls every two months and we can talk about scheduling. And he apologized for punching you.”

Harry let out a sigh at that, his shoulders slumped like they’d been tense. “I mean--I think I did more damage to him, but, s’fine.” He brought his eyes up to meet yours and smiled a bit. “But that’s good--if he wants to see them there should be some type of predictability to it.”

“Right,” you agreed, a beat of silence. “I should probably feel bad for the girls that their father only wants to see them six times a year but I’m honestly just relieved at this point.”

He held back a quiet laugh. “I don’t blame you. Don’t need any more fist fights.”

You looked up at him, bit back a smirk and tugged at the necklace around your neck. “Definitely not.” Another beat of silence when he looked down at the countertop, his lips were parted like he wanted to speak, but then he sighed again.

The sadness on his face tugged at your heart, you spit out words if only to fill the air between you.

“I’m also sorry that he punched you. You shouldn’t have punched him first, obviously, but, he’s an idiot. The father of my children, but an idiot nonetheless.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I overstepped, so, I’m the one that owes you an apology.”

You nodded. He wasn’t wrong. He did owe you an apology despite the fact that he’d already said it that night. But you didn’t want it to feel as awkward and uncomfortable as it had been for the last few days.

Maybe the girls didn’t sense it, Harry was still teaching Maeve guitar and he still chased CeCe around the backyard, tossing her over his shoulder when he finally caught up. But instead of sneaking into your room at night he shut his bedroom door quietly and you pretended you didn’t watch to see when he finally turned the light out.

“By the way, my house is coming along. They said I can move in sometime in the next two weeks probably.” He nodded like this was a business meeting, neat and tidy information that he presented on top of the island like there wasn’t any weight to his words.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah--so, I’ll keep you updated, I guess.”

In a year of uncertainty and with a thousand twists and turns, something about Harry made you feel like your path was straight, like no unexpected bumps or roadblocks could throw you off course. Somehow, he’d simultaneously been the one to make things fall into place and stir up emotions inside of you that you forgot existed.

But the mere thought of that brought on so much judgment and self-doubt. You'd been desperate and pathetic and searching for anything that would keep you upright, then Harry showed up with a suitcase and a heart of gold.

It wasn’t his fault that you fell for him. There was no one to blame but you.

He saw the look on your face, one of swirling thoughts and anxiety. He cleared his throat. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

You looked up at him sheepishly, like you’d been caught in your own internal monologue of a shame spiral. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

He laughed, reached for glasses above the stove and poured.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: this one was a bit shorter--but don't worry, everything happens for a reason.

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years ago

Text

Trick, treats, bets

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 11/31

Prompt: “Scaring the kids? You already do that without a mask” brycehunt pls (i'm asking this one bc of you)

Bryce both loved and hated Halloween.

She loved the costumes, the whole spooky vibes. The candy promotions were amazing, and the Devil’s Night parties were even better. But she also hated the—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the thing the hated the most. Bryce grunted, getting up and grabbing the bag of candy sitting by her side. It’s not that she hated the kids that came to her apartment for candy, she herself had done it throughout her childhood and adolescence, she just hated needing to get up all the goddamn time unless she wanted spray paint on her door or toilet paper glued to it.

She thought about leaving a bowl outside and letting the kids grab it, but it always ended up with a single boy taking the whole thing, not only making Bryce need to get up all the time during the night nonetheless, but it also forced her to buy a new bowl on the following day.

Plastering a smile on her face, Bryce opened the door, looking at the pack of children in front of her.

“Trick-or-treats!” They all said in unison, some voices muffled by their masks. Bryce’s smile turned genuine, and she started handing out the candy. As they received their candies, the kids said a quick thanks, moving to the other apartment across the hall.

Bryce prayed that he wasn’t at home, that he, like any other adult, had gone to some Halloween party. She had planned on, but her shift started so early on the following morning that she just gave up the idea, celebrating only Devil’s Night. Unfortunately, her prayers were not heard because a second later, the red door across from hers opened, a gigantic figure taking up all the threshold space. He was in his usual black pants and black shirt, a Scream mask covering his face.

Upon seeing the mask, some kids screamed, some kids laughed and most did both. They repeated the same phrase they had said moments ago to her, and so he started handing out candy.

Incapable of holding herself back, Bryce smirked ironically, leaning against her door frame. “Scaring the kids? You already do that without a mask, Hunt.”

As he always did when Bryce teased him, Hunt’s head snapped up, and she could almost see his eyes narrowing under the Scream mask.

The thing about her neighbor was plain and simple.

She fucking despised him.

Always had, even though Danika would usually point out that it was only Bryce’s stubbornness talking too loudly. Her roommate actually liked their neighbor, and that sometimes meant that Bryce had to arrive to see Hunt and Dani talking on the hallway as if they were friends. Bryce supposed they were, but she’d never admit that her best friend was friends with him.

Dani hadn’t been there when Bryce first moved their shit in. She had been traveling with her excuse of a mother to visit her sick grandpa, and so Bryce got the responsibility to move everything in before the end of summer. She hadn’t mind, not really. It wasn’t like Danika owned tons of shit, and most of the boxes were Bryce’s anyways.

And that’s when she had met Hunt.

For her whole life, Bryce had been told she was the biggest pain in the ass anyone could meet. The people saying that obviously hadn’t met Hunt Athalar.

The guy had bothered her every fucking day for a whole month. Every time a different complaint, every time just as annoying. She was being too loud, she was coming in too late and slamming the from door, her music was shit, she had to shut her dog up… Bryce wondered if Hunt made a fucking mental list every weekend regarding what he was going to complain about that week.

In the beginning she tried to be nice, tried to be polite to her neighbor but after two weeks she was just so fed up, that when Hunt complained about her coming back home so late, she just snapped.

“Well, you fucking prick, I come home late because I have a social life. Differently from you, apparently, who spends his day planning what’s he’s going to complain about next.” Bryce said, her drunken voice loud in the corridor. Hunt was standing at the door, eyes narrowed at her. “Actually, I can understand why you do that. Why you don’t have a fucking social life. It’s because you’re fucking insufferable! Going out with you must be the worst fucking torture ever.”

After that, she had slammed the door and prayed to the gods that the outburst would finally make him stop bothering her.

It didn’t.

When Dani came home, however, things got better. For some reason, Hunt seemed to like her better than he liked Bryce. If it depended on her, Danika wouldn’t even talk to that asshole, but since talking to her roommate apparently made him more friendly, Bryce never complained.

Hunt raised his mask from his face, giving Bryce a sarcastic smile. “Quinlan, always a fucking pleasure hearing your voice.”

“There are kids present.”

Hunt rolled his eyes, giving out candy to the last kids. “Cussing makes me look cooler than you to them.”

Some kids giggled, and Bryce tried— she really did try— to keep her mouth shut. “Don’t kids adore clowns?”

Despite the fact that Bryce felt as if she was back at fourth grade after that one, she felt somewhat smug.

Hunt let out a single laugh, still sarcastically smiling down at Bryce from across the hall. “I’m still the preferred one.”

“No, you’re not.”

As the kids left, Bryce knew she should go back to her apartment and hope she wouldn’t need to see Hunt’s face again for the rest of the night, but he kept standing there, and she didn’t want to be the first one to back down.

Hunt managed to bring out the very childish side of her. It was just wonderful.

“Why don’t we bet, then?” He asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Bryce narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down for no reason at all other than attempting to unnerve him. Judging from his impatient look when her eyes raised back to his face, her attempt was successful.

“I honestly would rather put toothpicks under my nails and then hit them against a wall.”

“So dramatic.” His smile widened. “But it’s ok that you don’t want. I’d be scared too.”

Oldest fucking trick on the book. Stupidest one too.

And she fell right into it.

Bryce grunted her jaw. “What fucking bet?”

“I think the kids would prefer me over you. You think the opposite.” He explained, gesturing to the middle of the corridor. “We put a box there asking them to write the number of the best house. Whoever wins gets a favor from the loser.”

Bryce scoffed, shaking her head. “As if I’d put the risk of having to owe you a favor in the hands of a bunch of ten years-olds.”

“Shouldn’t worry if you think you’re gonna win.”

Bryce bit the inside of her cheeks, looking Hunt up and down again. She knew it was a terrible bet, and she definitely did not want to owe him anything if she lost. Bryce didn’t even care about what the kids thought of her, she just didn’t want Hunt to be all smug and feeling superior.

“Fucking shit.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes. “Put the fucking box in the middle of the hallway and at midnight we count.”

And what was supposed to be a calm night— sometimes annoying— of just handing out candy, became a kissing-the-ass-of-a-bunch-of-kids night. Bryce was extra nice to all the kids, but she never asked them to vote for her house. She didn’t even knew if they were actually doing it, but she felt like asking for votes felt a little too much.

She handed out more candy to each one as she had previously expected, complimented costumes and even made small talk to the older trick-or-treaters, but beyond that she just acted normal.

As midnight approached, though, she started to wish that she had asked for those votes. The perspective of being in debt with the person she most fucking despised was terrifying, and she knew that if she lost, Hunt would definitely pick something to make her miserable.

Although she’d never admit it, she was anxiously waiting by the door for ten minutes already when the clock chimed midnight. Both she and Hunt opened the door at the same time, both looking at each other for a quick second before rushing to the box in the middle of the hallway. For the first time since she had met him, Bryce didn’t insult, scowl or even talked to Hunt. They just sat in silence on the floor and started to count.

Surprisingly, it looked like all the kids had found the question interesting enough because there were at least sixty paper votes inside the box. Half to her content, half to her worry, she and Hunt were pretty tied.

Hunt smiled, shaking the box. “Last vote, Quinlan.”

Bryce was staring at that box as if it held the answers to all of her problems. They were currently 34-34, and whoever got that vote won.

For the seconds it took Hunt to take the paper out of the box, Bryce’s heart was basically galloping inside her chest.

And when he smiled, her heart dropped.

Before he even placed the paper down on his pile, Bryce was already resting her head against the wall, groaning and cursing the children.

“Fuck no. No, no, no. Fuck, fuck no.” She groaned, shaking her head as she looked up to the ceiling.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Quinlan.” Hunt said, and although Bryce wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was smiling.

“Go choke on a dick, asshole.”

Hunt’s rich laughs reverberated through the corridor, and Bryce groaned one more time.

“The way I’m feeling right now.” Hunt gloated, only half speaking to her.

Bryce snapped her face back to him, eyes opening. She made a face, showing him the middle finger. “Why don’t you just ask your fucking favor and leave me alone?”

Hunt’s smile was nothing short of scary, and Bryce was already bracing herself for his next words. “Remember two weeks after you moved in?”

Bryce’s nervousness was substituted for confusion, and a crease created in between her eyebrows. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Hunt’s smile grew. “Remember what you said?”

Bryce simply narrowed her eyes.

“That going out with me would be, and I quote, the worst fucking torture ever?” Hunt’s voice was sweet, smile enormous, and it took Bryce only a second to understand.

“Oh, fuck you.” She said, jaw falling. Bryce knew Hunt had no interest in her, he just wanted to antagonize her life. “Fuck you, you fucking fuck.”

Hunt laughed again, throwing his head back. Bryce crossed her arms, head shaking as she still had her jaw somewhat dropped.

“Really? You can ask for anything and you decide to chose something stupid just to annoy me?”

Hunt was too busy laughing to respond to her, and Bryce got up, scowling down at him.

“I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born during the three hours I’m out with you.”

Hunt controlled his laughter, looking up at her. “Wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

Bryce opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she just turned on her heels, walking up to her apartment and slamming the door without looking back at Hunt.

She decided, in that moment, that she actually fucking hated Halloween.

A/N: Getting sick when you’re doing a challenge is the biggest bitch ever. I’m hopeful I’ll finish before Halloween but who knows? This is quick and the first time I write Brycehunt, so new waters for me. Hope you enjoyed!

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady

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snip-snap-the-bat · 5 years ago

Text

You know one of my favourite aus?? Snape lives, and I know that's common, but here me out: Domestic Snape

After the war, therapy becomes a thing, thanks to muggle raised.

Now, everyone is in therapy, including Severus.

He wasn't going to go, but Minerva convinced him, with a few harsh words.

Now, time goes on, and Severus gets better. His depression never leaves, nor any of the other disorders he's been diagnosed with, but it gets better, and that's really all he can ask for.

There's lots of apologies, aimed at him. Lots of hate, too, but he couldn't really care.

Now, it's been three years since the war.

He was sitting in his kitchen, measuring out twelve grams of sugar for his tea, when there is a sharp rapping is at his door.

Usually, it's hate. It had grown quieter as of late, but still happened.

He peeped through his blinds, to see Potter, who then caught his eye and grinned.

Severus huffed and opened the door, inviting the man in. He really hated standing with the door open.

He went back to measuring his sugar as Harry awkwardly stood in the hall, and turned his head sharp.

"What do you need, Potter? I'm busy."

"What, weighing out your sugar?" He grinned, and Severus huffed.

"Actually I came to invite you to our Christmas party."

Then Severus froze

"Potter why on earth would you do that?"

Harry shrugged, and placed an invite on the table.

"Floo me if you can come, if not, I'll come see you another time. Have a good evening, Sir."

And with that Harry let himself out.

Severus sat with his perfectly made tea, sipping slowly.

It was a simple card, festive. Had the address and time, and also mentioned that fancy dress was optional.

Severus did end up going, but had to leave early - it was all too familiar, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

Ginny was pregnant, which made it worse.

Last time he was invited to a Christmas party was in '79, Lily had invited him.

She was pregnant then, also.

He had left early then, too, but only because Black was glaring at him from across the way.

Back to the present, he sat at home, in his rocking chair.

Potter came over the next day, to check up on him.

"Potter, you're treating me like a senior. I'm fine, go home."

"I mean, to be fair," He was grinning again, a stupid glint in his eye.

"Don't you even think about it."

The younger man scampered off, a grin on his face, yelling that he'll visit again soon.

Severus mumbled that he didn't need to bother.

Over the years, Harry paid annual visits. They eventually got onto first name terms.

Little James seemed enthralled with Severus.

Severus wasn't too fond of little James, though.

They brought him to see Severus often, and soon Severus didn't mind him as much.

One time, James called Severus 'Grandpa Sev'

Ginny and Harry laughed for awhile, and Severus simply stared in disbelief.

"I'm only forty four." He grumbled, but didn't seem too put out.

After Ginny had taken James home, Harry asked if Severus minded.

"I suppose it depends on you, it doesn't bother me." Was the only response he got before he was shooed off home.

Next time they saw grandpa Sev, Ginny revealed that she was pregnant again.

Severus congratulated her, and she asked if he wanted to come to the baby shower they were due to have in three months time.

He said he'd think about it

He ended up going, and that's when everyone figured out Severus was a grandpa.

Courtesy of James, of course.

Severus entered, and found a three year old running full speed at him,

"Gran'pa Sev! Hi! Momma's havin' a baby!"

Everyone turned to look at the tall man, who had a child motioning to be picked up at his feet.

"Hello James, thank you for informing me."

If anyone tells you he picked James up and hugged him, they are absolutely lying.

The party went without a hitch, James taking it upon himself to introduce his Grandpa to everyone, who already knew him.

Two months later, Ginny waddled into his kitchen, Harry following shortly behind.

Severus would be lying if he said he wasnt at least a little disappointed when James wasn't with them.

Soon though, he found out why.

"Absolutely not."

Harry tried to reason, but Severus was talking

"Going around with my name! What are you thinking?"

"Severus, you're their grandfather. It's mandatory!"

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"I'm just, place holding. They won't want anything to do with me when they get older."

This time, Ginny spoke up.

"Listen here, Severus Snape. You are their grandfather, and you will be for the rest of their lives. You don't get a say anymore. You can't back out because something big is happening! You're family now, suck it up and deal with it. Now, Severus for a middle name?"

Severus huffed but smiled.

"What about Albus for the first?" He suggested, not really giving it much thought.

"Albus Severus Potter." Harry said, a small smile gracing his face.

"I love it. Do you think it's alright?" Ginny turned her attention to Severus.

A little taken aback by the fact that they cared for his input, he nodded, "I think it's a wonderful name. Middle name could be better though."

Ginny glared, "I'm going to floo my mum and see if she likes it. I'll see you two later."

They nodded their goodbyes and just before she left she turned and waddled back, "Would you like me to bring James over for awhile later?"

"That would be lovely."

Two months later, Severus was readying for bed, when a knock was on his door.

Assuming it to be Harry, he simply called, "Come in, I'm in the kitchen."

The door opened, and in stepped Ron Weasley.

Holding a sleeping James.

"Hey look I'm really sorry, Ginny's gone into labour and were needed at the hospital there's complications and- can you watch him?"

Severus' chest swelled with worry, but he agreed to watch James.

After telling Ron to inform him if anything happens, the ginger was gone.

Severus finished getting ready for bed, and decided to sleep in the living room with James.

He set the boy up on an armchair and slept on his two seater, although halfway through the night he was awoken by James climbing on him.

He didn't want to be by himself, so Severus just decided to take the boy to his bed.

No point in them being uncomfortable.

The morning came, and by lunch time Ron was back.

He said they asked for Severus at the hospital, and if he'd mind taking James with him.

Severus agreed, and soon they were out the door.

"Mummy! Daddy!" Was the shrill little voice as he ran into the room, Ginny smiling at him, "Hello sweetheart. Did you sleep at grandpa Sevs house last night?"

The two continued in conversation while Harry spoke to Severus, and assured him everything was okay.

Albus was upside down, and he wouldn't of had time to turn before he was born as his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, so they had to go through an early induced labour at only seven and a half months.

Albus as a result was tiny but otherwise fine, it seemed they caught him just in time.

Severus was the third person to hold him, and he was barely bigger than his hand.

James gave Albus a kiss, but was otherwise unbothered.

James was going to Stay with Severus for the rest of the week, just so Harry could get himself together. He wasn't in a fit state to care for a child and needed to be with his wife.

James decided he wanted to stay with his grandpa, and so he did.

By the time Lily came along, Severus was a pro at this babysitting business.

He was, apparently, the childrens favourite person, which he found astonishing.

He made sure to have custard creams for the next time they stayed over.

James asked for Severus to come to his graduation, and the man, despite never wanting to set foot onto Hogwarts grounds again, agreed.

He smiled at his grandson, and suddenly Hogwarts didn't seem to be filled with evil.

He never became a professor again, but he would go in and give the newt level students a few lessons every so often.

Okay okay this turned out kinda long but I just love domestic Snape so much. If any of y'all want me to continue just tell me??

Anyway I'm going to bed goodnight

#pro Snape #severus snape #severus snape headcanon #pro severus snape #harry potter #ginny Weasley #hinny #albus severus potter #james sirius potter #lily luna potter #domestic snape

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