#got the woman liking passed down genetically from my mom or something just like the glasses and mental illness <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

augment-techs · 1 year ago

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Unknown: Honestly, I'm not entirely against the idea of unnamed parents in the Ranger universe. It gives multiple opportunities for theories and speculation. Also confirmations feel a little superfluous in the long run? Kim: I...yeah, all girls for this family dynamic, Xian Of The One Braincell has a very nice ring to it. Not so much with the fact that Trini and Tommy are both confirmed dead, which means Kim is doubly traumatized, but...Pink, Yellow, Green is NOT the worst combo. Tommy:

I do delight in any scenario where we get to see a little more of your ideas with the Ranger multiverse interacting and all that means in the long run with other Bad End Tommy figures~ I also rather adore both Bolin and Su. Bolin especially, because YES, he would be a FANTASTIC co-parent with Skull and Trini, and I rather like the though of them in Mastodon knight uniforms (I totally remember the Forever Black knight; they would look stunning). Even if Bolin does end up taking the shot, how fun that would be~ Su feels like a true wildcard, but somehow I am pacified by Billy and David taking her under wing. Jason: 😌👍 Billy: 😭😭😭😭 Laura: Tate feels like a real softy who would absolutely fall off the length of a pier if left to his own. Thankfully unlike Trini he can cook, but baby boy needs a leash. Linette absolutely got her brain from Trini, but ALL of the genetic variations of Zack's CAN DO-WILL DO attitude. I am flinching away incredibly hard at the idea of any of Trini's dolls being given the ability to move around on their own, but...family love is family love. ^^; Violet:

I see your pun with Heather and I am fully okay with anyone named Heather that ISN'T a reference to the tragi-comedy of the 80s or the musical (better as that way). Tiny little kiln baby girl gets to much LOVE, "the law does not apply when she wants to take a picture or take a leaf or flower" >>>OMG *cries with happiness* MACE FINSTER IF HE COMES NEAR HER AGAIN. BLAST THE FUCKER, VI. Marge: *ear twitch* Oh? Hello there reason for sexual/romantic misunderstandings~ Wee lamb didn't know, but apologies and getting a place with two scary looking punk bodyguards was a nice bonus~ ....I feel like Francis is going to follow down into his moms' legacy of being gay and sassing everyone within a three yard radius. His favorite band is a tiny little speck of a woman than still gives off 'please step on me vibes' and two very tall men who COULD pass as beguiling swains in a certain light. Tyar, by contrast, is ABSOLUTELY going to end up a monster fucker. His brother got his number, uh-huh uh-huh. Matt: 🤗💕❤ Skull: (o゜▽゜)o☆ Bulk: ✪ ω ✪ Zack:

I mean, I don't wanna say that I didn't see something like this coming. But I DIDN'T and it makes me feel boiling rage. Because, much like with parents that are specialist doctors, you can't be mad because they're saving people's lives, but you are mad, because all their time is spent with each other and different people. I kind of had to take a moment to just...stare at the screen here for a bit, because Kim. Kim, honey, pull a card. Jethro and Avery are worth semi-retirement again, PULL A CARD. Kiya:

We need this, all of this, every single bit of this, OMG OMG OMG!!! Kyrok is perfect and if we don't get something like this in the comic, I will have lost all of my faith in the writers AAAAAAAIIIIIIIII!!!!! Richie: Isolde is perfect and would make the best of the little background/support characters for any rangers. Take those bragging rights, girlie, you own it. Tobin is: CHARMING CHARMING CHARMING. I know you marked him with amber, but I am getting Eastern dragon type vibes off of him. Or kitsune~ Kai is right about the friends thing, so he does have that going for him. His planned future is all very well, but it's nice that he has instincts. I am okay with either tangential au scenario, but I like the above one better

Trini Kwan canon children and oc children. Trini's fun. I find her interesting, and I love how even beyond Zack, she is the middle man. She knows how Billy speaks and how to explain it to Jason and Zack. She's a sweet girl with slightly creepy beloved dolls and hobbies. She's super enthusiastic but not in a way you'd immediately notice. I love Trini.

canon children:

unknown father;

Minh Kwan. I like Minh, she's awesome. Her shenanigans with the morpher made me laugh, and her getting to see memories of her mom? I was crying. I like how she's like Trini while also being her own person. But they could have done more. Her entire schtick is revenge and being a teenager. Okay. Well she's nice enough but what are her hobbies? Aside from fighting and visiting her mom's grave???? she...seems fashion oriented? She knows how to drive? she likes the jucie bar? we can do better. But, I do enjoy her character. It’s kinda weird how the dad was never revealed, bur I guess they couldn’t talk about Richie because his actor also died. Richie was meant, originally before cast changes required a change in plot, to be the red herring to who the white ranger was. He was Trini’s love interest and was going to be this mysterious new kid who may or may not be the white ranger before-surprise! It’s Tommy. I personally don’t know if Trini would have gotten with Richie in the end, but I ship it lol. I’m just suggesting him as a possible, but I do have kids for him in the non canon list.

my non canon children for Trini Kwan:

Kimberly Hart;

Xian Linh Hart, aged 16. Xian is the younger half sister of Minh and Olivia. When Tommy disappeared Trini did as well, however a few years after Tommy. She and Kim got close shortly after Minh was born, and later got married. Soon after they had a daughter of their own with the help of in vitro fertilization procedures. Trini later died in a freak accident fighting a villain, and Kim withdrew completely with her daughters. Xian’s a pink ranger to Olivia’s green and Minh’s yellow. She’s the one braincell in the sister group, and a fair balance of her sister’s personalities. Still figuring herself out, trying to do Kim proud while also struggling to figure out how to honor Trini’s memory.

Tommy Oliver;

During the incident where Zedd was twisting a neighbor girl of Trini’s into an evil princess on a magic island, Tommy went to help the girl, confident in Trini’s promise; she’d undo the spell on both of them and save them. When the spell took effect, Zedd was true to his word snd released the other teammates, and the evil duo of Green and Lavender debuted. “Prince Tommy” remembered little but the promise of Trini’s. He and the girl, Hallie, killed Drakkon and terraformed the planet into a nightmarish land of fairytale places. Treacherous mountains, terrifying forests, murderous deserts. Razing cities in their wake, making the planet in the image of Hallie’s twisted obsession. It’s not too different than it was, except that the different biomes don’t encourage cities very much. Each region now sentient to an extent. And willing to punish humanity for city building.

Trini and Tommy entered a strange adversarial relationship. Tommy’s obsession with Trini reaching a fever pitch after a few years. The promise and the hatred of fairytales he has twisting into an odd association with Trini. His saving grace, even if he can’t remember what from . They did have a few nights were no fights took place, and they have two kids, with “Prince Tommy” none the wiser that his “Huntress” often has their kids in tow. Bolin and Su are 16 and 14 respectively. Bolin knows who Tommy is to them, Su does not.

Bolin’s been raised his entire life with the resistance and the sole mission of finding the dumpster Rita’s still stuck in, or some other mystic who’d know how to undo the Venus Island spell. He learned about Tommy being his dad two years ago, after meeting David. It didn’t take a lot to put the pieces together with how much David looks like them and Bolin having never seen David’s brother without his helmet until Tommy confronted David and Trini, where he put Trini under a spell. Up till that point Trini co-parented them with Skull and Bulk, and Bolin likes Skull and Bulk as parents and mentors. An adept marksman with throwing knives. Skilled at potion making, and doesn’t know how to feel about Tommy and Hallie. Yes, it’s a spell, but…well. How many times can one take being nearly murdered by maddened tyrants. Considering joining the tyrant prince and princess’s ranks with Bulk to see if he can’t save them…if he can kill them. He’s not currently associated with a color, but he will be a Mastodon Knight, when he’s undercover. Bulk’s his captain and they’re both doing their best. Trini doesn’t approve when this happens, however when she becomes Tommy’s Power Huntress and right hand, it’s not really up to her.

Su is very much a product of her environment. She wasn’t born before nightmare fairytale world, and she can’t imagine anything else. Her logic hinges on magic, and people she knows. Bartering and being kind and clever and very very good with figuring out how to fight with limited space. She doesn’t get why her brother’s been so moody the last two years, and has been traveling with David and Billy to spread the word about Zack and Kim, who both died fighting Tommy, and try to figure out how to undo everything. She’s not sure if she wants to, this version of the world is all she knows but…it would be cool to meet Rita. A real live wicked witch? You don’t see one of those every day. She assumes Richie, who Tommy tortured and killed very early in hers and Bolin’s lives, is her dad. Is more and more motivated to get the curse on Tommy and Hallie broken in any case, just to get her mom, brother, and honorary uncle back. She misses them. Not associated with a color, nor is she going to be a knight of any sort. If she was, it’d be white.

Jason Lee Scott;

They got together in their teens after putty!Matt got them thinking about it, and after a short time apart, they got back together. Jason and Trini co-parent Minh, and have a kid of their own. Terry Scott is twelve and while deeply enthusiastic over everything, he's rather reserved. Fairly calm, and watchful. He's always pausing before talking. Definitely a mama's boy. However, he likes battle borgs with Jason, and they do watch each new season together. Terry's got no interest in being a power ranger. When Trini died, he had even less interest in it. Kid keeps Jason out of rangerdom, because how could he go back in when Minh's currently a yellow, and Terry's still grieving his mom. Terry and Minh's relationship has gotten really strained, and Jason's trying to keep the family together. Trini'd want him to try.

Billy Cranston;

Minh, in this reality, Billy is the unnamed father. Minh and a younger brother, aged 10. Hao and Minh go to live with Zack after Billy inadvertently gets their mother-his wife-killed. as of course, he tells them the truth. Even after, they don't forgive him, but Minh does somewhat reconcile. Hao, however, needs time. Nobody blames the kids for not being able to forgive, least of all Billy.

Laura (last name unknown);

Laura and Kim were both scout masters to their troop of Angelettes, and Trini got to meet Laura properly during something she’d been invited to help out with for badge earning. She’d met Laura briefly when she and Billy had tried dating, and had developed a crush. Had been relieved when Laura and Billy broke up, for a myriad of reasons. One of which was the crush on Laura, the other was that Laura and Billy’d both realized they were interested in the same sex, and broke up when they came out to each other. Trini still did ask Billy if Billy was ok with her dating an ex; that can be weird no matter the reason. Billy was supportive of the idea, more relieved both of them had a chance to be happy now.

Laura and Trini have two kids, and Billy and Zack are surrogate fathers. Billy wasn’t available or comfortable the second time (he’d just gotten married himself), and Jason was alright with offering. Tate, aged 21, and Linette, aged 15, are their kids. Laura works at the museum as a tour guide, and usually works with the school groups. She sees both her kids about twice a year at her job for the annual trips, but she’s never the guide for their school groups. They want their privacy after all, but she does say hi when she sees them. This had saved Tate a few times over the years; he’s very forgetful, and Laura can just covertly give him items like his lunch while saying hi. She’s gonna miss seeing her kids at work like this when Linette graduates. Trini’s love for doll collecting lead her to making her own dolls, and she sells custom dolls to collectors.

Tate lives as a regular space cadet type person. Literally. He’s going into astronomy as a chosen vocation. Because he’s often mostly concerned with the skies and what’s going on up there, he often forgets things. His homework, his lunch, his shoes once…the skies are just more interesting. However, Trini signed them both up for a cooking class during one of his college breaks, and he’s found making simple meals does center him when he’s spinning his wheels. Tate will make vast quantities of different types of ramen or burgers or soups if he’s studying for a test, and his entire floor of his dorm has learned that around the midterms and finals the best place to get food is Tate Kwan’s room. Is not supposed to be cooking. Everyone knows he is cooking. But you need to catch someone in the act or with pots and pans and the intention to cook, and…there isn’t even so much as a tea bag or kettle in his room whenever anyone looks. Not that anyone looks super hard; this is benefitting everyone. He’s on a scholarship and is doing his best, but best means A’s and B’s and his teachers like him. He’s pleasant, even if he is a little distant, polite, sweet tempered, and willing to explain things in simple terms to anyone who needs it. Given his sister’s aspirations, he has been helping her prepare for applying to colleges, and has been tutoring her in math when needed. Not associated with a color.

Linette, like Laura, is an Angelette. Kimberly is her Angel Leader, and she loves it. Her goal is to collect every badge in the catalogue before she turns 18. This will look good on her college applications. Linette wants to go into the computer sciences. She became fascinated when one of the tasks for a badge required programming a simple website. She went the extra mile and built a simple computer as well, to cover another two badges. She was hooked. She’s built her brother his computer, and Laura one. Either option as a career seems very fun. She’s been helping Trini make little automaton versions of her dolls. They do simple things like write little letters or play music or brush hair. They make people happy, and that makes Linette happy. She wants to be able to do this in a larger scale. A lot more organized and down to earth than her brother. He forgets everything; she forgets nothing. Not associated with a color

Violet Arias;

When Zack and Violet broke up, and then Violet and Billy, Trini had to wait for Violet to recover enough to want to date someone in that friend group again. Or at all. And then they both went to college on opposite sides of the country. They stayed in contact, but it wasn’t the same. Until they were video chatting on Valentine’s, and one thing led to another…and they were long distance dating, to both’s pleasant surprise. When they could finally meet again in person they had a trial run to see if they could be together as a couple, if this would work. It did, and now they have two daughters and run a paint your own pottery place, well, two. The first was so popular they opened the second one in a nearby town. Trini had Minh and was a single mom well before she and Violet got together, but Minh got used to Violet fairly quickly and adores her step mom. Billy offered to help them have a kid together, and they agreed.

Heather Arias-Kwan is eleven. She’s very spunky and opinionated. She likes painting and the pottery (she helped make the little kiln god that her moms use for their kiln when she was a lot younger-you can see her thumbprints in the little guy if you look closely). Trini loves how helpful Heather is, and Heather loves doing tai chi with her in the park each morning before going to school. She’s always scribbling little poems to paint onto cups or plates, and practicing drawing birds or flowers for her projects. She’s often getting into shenanigans when she sees something she wants to use for inspiration, the law does not apply when she wants to take a picture or take a leaf or flower.

Finster kidnapped her once. Nobody knows what he was intending because when they found them she was happily making clay figures in a corner and he was painting ones she’d finished. They only know he was going to do something as he said he’d changed his mind. This, rightfully, freaked out Violet. She and Trini are both a little worried that Heather might want to go back for the magic life giving clay. Not associated with a color. Kept a closer eye on than before after Finster. Hasn’t noticed this yet, she’s too busy doing other things. The attention has led to some friction between Trini and Violet, however. Violet still isn’t a huge fan of the rangers, and doesn’t like the fact this is putting their kid in danger. Trini understands and agrees to a point, but she had told Violet she used to be a ranger; Violet walked into this with eyes open.

Marge (last name unknown);

Trini, Billy, and Marge went to the same camp as kids, and became friends. This unfortunately resulted in Skull hating her. Trini never thought to ask why, until Marge had a lesbian awakening, and stopped trying to ask Billy to different dances. Trini confronted Bulk and Skull over the years long jealousy campaign, and got them to apologize to Marge, tagging along to make sure they did. Marge was having a hard time with her parents so the apology meant a lot. And the fact Trini got them to make the apology meant even more. They got together once Marge had found a somewhat stable place to live to finish school, and had worked on coming to terms with some things a little. After being mistaken for the blue ranger and being rescued by Trini, she loosened up a lot more, and started helping with Bulk and Skull’s podcast. Mostly script writing and holding the camera.

She realized she didn’t want to go to college for a career her parents had picked out for her, and got a vocation degree for plumbing, and then later a community college degree for business. She has a small fleet of plumbers, and Trini, and two adopted boys, and they’re all happy.

Tyar and Francis are international adoptions, Tyar from Indonesia and Francis from England. Tyar was adopted as a toddler, and Francis was adopted at ten. They’re seventeen and fifteen, respectively. Francis got to be ringbearer at his new moms’ wedding, which was cool, and Tyar was Trini’s “second best” man; Zack was official best man for her, to help Tyar with his duties while still letting him be important.

Tyar likes his new brother, though it’s taking some getting used to not being the only child. The adjustment has led to some friction between them, with the two having wildly different personalities. Tyar is the yellow ranger of his team, and this doesn’t help with the friction. He can’t just tell Francis, plus Francis doesn’t really like the insanity of the rangers and monsters and supernatural forces. So Francis is left with his own assumptions about Tyar and constantly disappearing, and Tyar’s just trying to keep everything balanced. He’s a huge horror movie buff, and works at the movie theater. To help the theater with extra income, Friday nights are Freaky Flic nights. They play a small selection of old classics, and a mystery horror movie. Given his tastes, only the really brave who know him buy the tickets to the mystery horror movie. He likes his horror gory and bleak. He’s very good in English class, and gym, and wants to be a screenplay writer one day. He’s already got one he’s working on. Everyone Dies At The End. A slasher comedy. The one thing he and Francis can agree on is their favorite band, Hart and the Bonez. Francis about lost his mind when he found out Kimberly Hart and the Skullovitch brothers were friends with their moms, and that’s definitely fun.

Francis is a livewire with a short fuse who doesn’t have any patience for the utter insanity in this new town. His new brother for the past year or so has been disappearing whenever monsters show up, monsters are a thing, space villains are a thing, hell is apparently a thing…that’s concerning…He’s trying to get a summer job, and is looking for something that doesn’t have anything to do with monsters or his brother. Considering working at the music shop. He knows a lot about violins, and music, and would love to work at the store and maybe tutor kids. He’s pretty sure Tyar is in love with one of the monsters to the point of embarrassment; why else would he disappear whenever the guy showed up? He’s trying to figure out a tactful way to set them up so maybe Tyar can stop flaking on other stuff in the name of his crush. As for Francis, he just wants a week without silly, please. It’s been hard acclimating to being a brother the last few years and this has made it harder.

Matthew Cook;

Trini smacked sense into him after the upteenth pity party. She also forced him to come along for a mission in space with the Solar Rangers. He wanted to be let in on the whole thing? Fine! They could do that! Welcome to space Matt, everyone you meet is going to die or kill you! Have fun!

After, he put the dagger up, and he and Trini actually talked about what happened on the moon. She also retired from being a ranger, and they focused on taking a page from Bulk and Skull; being helpful as civilians. Matt asked Trini to marry him, and Trini said no. They made a game of it for a few years before she finally did say yes, when they were both financially stable.

They have Minh, and do foster parenting. Currently fostering JJ Oliver, due to unforeseen events leading to both Tommy and Kat unable to care for their kid for the time being. It’s hard being s foster family, but it’s nice being able to see the kids go back to their parents or move on to hopefully better situations. Matt’s at peace, and Trini is too. Trini is a plane mechanic; Matt is a fireman.

Eugene Skullovitch;

He kept asking her out until she agreed to go out with him. And actually had a nice time. So she humored him again, and again, it was nice. They weren't seeing seeing each other though, and both of them had their kids around the same time. Skull had Spike, and Trini had Minh, and they liked each other fine and loved each other's kids. They had one more, together. August Kwan. He's thirteen, and a complete introverted social butterfly. He loves showing off and gushing about his interests but he hates dealing with too many people for too long. He's really into piano, like Skull. A composer for video game music sounds like a really fun profession, so maybe when he's older he'll work towards that. But he's thirteen, he's got time. He has a stuffed animal he's been attached to since he was two, is half convinced stuffed animal is sentient, and carries it around in his hoodie or backpack. He's not ready to let it go, and Trini fully understands, supports, and gets this. When he's ready, Banjo the seal plushy, will be put beside her own childhood doll Ticklesneezer. Skull's following along with the gentle parenting; he's a bit out of his depth but he appreciates and loves that their kids are being actively supported. He's working on it, and so far the kids aren't traumatized, so something must be working.

Farkas Bulkmeier;

in one au she's a surrogate mom for Bulk and Tommy, but in another, Bulk and Trini got together after Minh's dad left the picture. Bulk had experience with helping a single parent, and Trini was extremely grateful. Minh loved him, and loved when Spike came over. Bulk and Trini had one more kid together when Minh was around six. Rue Kwan. currently aged 17. Minh is going into law, and Rue is considering being a private detective. Or a rocket scientist. Both would be equally fun challenges. Rue's a quick thinker, and rather politely sassy. She's got a dry sense of humor but her comebacks are scathing and legendary. Rue's on the heavier side, and this leads to some self image issues sometimes, especially around valentine's or dances, though Bulk and Trini and Minh are quick to nip this in the bud as quickly as possible whenever it crops up. Rue knows her own mind, and her own opinions. She's been sent to the principle's office for getting into arguments with her teachers more than once. not associated with a color.

Zack Taylor;

They started dating in space, and it was nice. When Trini became red, it got more serious, and being with each other was always so safe, emotionally. They don’t spent a lot of time on earth, but they do have two kids. The two don’t see their kids much, Jethro, age 16 and Avery, age 15 are on earth and do school on earth. They see their parents on holidays when they can, but mostly live with Kim. They have very distant relationships with their parents, even if they wish their parents would retire. They partially retired until both of them were in Junior High, which makes it extra tough. It feels a little like an abandonment, even if it isn’t.

Jethro is not really open to his parents, and has a better relationship with Kim. He wants to be a DJ, and does DJ’ing stuff for school dances and parties. Annoyed by his parents, has a ton of friends, prefers his friends. He likes Kim just fine, and everyone else. He just thinks his parents are using their duties as an excuse to get out of raising their kids. Jethro tries to avoid talking about his parents and what they do. He’s got his own things to do, they have theirs.

Avery loves her parents. She misses them dearly and wants them to come home. She’s become a bit of a people pleaser, swallowing down anxiety or unhappiness so nobody worries. She worries about them, a lot, and wishes they’d just stay home with their kids, who love them. While she doesn’t get why her parents are always in space, she knows they are doing important work saving people, and thus, tries to be understanding and patient and not worry anyone. Not associated with a color.

Kiya Kyatyl;

Trini was able to head off Kiya’s ptsd breakdown in regards to Tommy Oliver by explaining as they got to earth Drakkon’s never get past being a green ranger, and their Tommy’s currently a white ranger. She has no idea if she’s telling the truth but Kiya clung to this as a lifeline and Trini let her. The two got very close during their time as teammates, and very very close during the Eltaran War. They got together shortly after and now, they have a kid.

Kyrok, another orphan from Khoodjah. They went back briefly to see if things had gotten better, they hadn’t, and there was a young boy in need of rescuing. Kyrok reminded Kiya of her brother, and a little of Trini. They rescued him at eight, he is currently 24. He hasn’t set foot on Khoodjah since, but they all live on Mirinoi.

Kyrok is a bit of an animal lover, and wants to specialize in veterinary for alien animals. His moms are fairly encouraging of the idea, and Trini has suggested he first start with earth animals as earth has some of the widest varieties of animals. Kiya is a bit apprehensive of the idea as, while she doesn’t want to put Tommy’s head on a spike, she still doesn’t fully trust the man. And he lives on earth. But, it would make Kyrok happy, and he knows how to take care of himself. He’s good at hand to hand combat, and lock picking. He can mimic voices fairly well as well as throw his voice (this was deemed as witchcraft on Khoodjah unfortunately, hence his needing to be rescued). Clever and smart and a bit introspective. He’s a bit shy, but he likes new experiences. Doesn’t like sweets, and loves thunderstorms. Not associated with a color.

Richie (last name unknown);

Trini kept falling for this mysterious guy. He was a new student, he was sweet, he always knew the right thing to say to make her whole day. And then Tommy got sick, and lost Green due to Lord Zedd. And suddenly Trini never noticed Richie where the new white ranger was. And when he came back after the fight, it was similar excuses to the ones she often used. Suddenly, it made sense why he worked at the juice bar as a second job. It was a favorite target and the favorite spot of the rangers. Plus, in the white server outfit, he could easily hide the fact he always wore white as part of his work clothes.

Trini confronted him, and he came clean; he WAS the white ranger, but it was only temporary. He was just helping out until Tommy was alright again. Trini was a bit mad he hadn’t said anything, though couldn’t really hold it against him. This was probably for safety reasons as Zedd wanted the white ranger’s power as well as the green. Richie eventually gave the white ranger powers to Tommy, and Trini gave the yellow ranger powers to Aisha. They started dating once they were no longer rangers. They have three children. Isolde, Tobin, and Kai.

Isolde is 27, and she runs a food truck. A little bit of a disaster person, but nobody can say no to her Vietnamese food truck with boba tea. There’s lines for it. She loves it. It gets her everywhere in town, she hears all the interesting gossip, and she can just go to where the people are instead of hope they come to her. Richie gave her the idea, and she’s never not going to be thankful to her dad over it. It’s just when she’s not running the food truck is when things go wonky. Everyone keeps mistaking her as the new ranger showing up in town and she really really isn’t. This is not something that’s going on. She’s not getting involved, no sir. She does, however, sell to any of the villains and rangers who want to get food after the fights. There’s a no fighting by the truck policy she holds to, and it has led to some…interesting scenarios. The spoiled rotten prince of the invading army proposed, as one example. She told him no. He suggested marrying his sister. While sweet even if he was thinking with his stomach…She had to explain what aromantic and asexual was and why she wasn’t going to just marry either of them-and yes lart if it was them attempting to invade earth-but gave them a special discount. This is bragging rights, in any case. Not associated with a color but everyone thinks she’s the Amber ranger running around town. Her parents worry, of course, bur she’s smart and resourceful. She knows how to stay out of situations. Or handle them if she’s in them.

Tobin is 25 and he is the Amber ranger running around town. He feels bad letting his sister get the eyes pointed at her, but it keeps the eyes off of him. It’s imperative he doesn’t let anyone know who he is right now, and so it’s easier if everyone thinks it’s her. He works at the radio station, and the Ranger Eyes program lets civilians call in to the radio to report sightings. He uses this to his upmost advantage. He’s helping a friend, and he’s not going to stop helping a friend. He’s pretty sure Richie has guessed but as his dad isn’t saying anything outright…he feels he’s ok. Calm, collected, charming, unpredictable in fights and doing his best to remain mysterious even though he’s the worst at keeping secrets. Has threatened the two brats attempting to take over the planet for “hitting on the nice food truck woman when she clearly isn’t interested”. That’s his sister, and he’s mad they even tried. However even if he could say anything she’d probably laugh at him, which he knows, but..still. It’s the principle of the thing. Is also trying VERY HARD not to think about how Isolde probably would have taken either two up on it if she wasn’t asexual or aromantic.

Kai is nineteen and is a complete book nerd. High Fantasy his preferred genre, and he runs a d&d group at a friend’s comic store. They’re playing a home brew campaign he’s like, eighty percent certain is based off the current exploits of the newest ranger team. Kai often has to be dragged out of his apartment to do things by siblings or parents when he’s not at the comic store, and he works for his sister at the food truck. He doesn’t have a lot of friends but he’s of the opinion of quality over quantity. Who needs a lot of bad friends when you can have one to three good close friends? Kai wants to develop his own indie video game one day; he just doesn’t know what to make it about. Yet. He’s confident he’ll come up with an idea, and soon.

In a tangential au, Minh is middle sibling, and Richie got Saba after Tommy got the dragon coin working again. Richie and Trini were both killed by Robo Rita. Trini trying to protect an injured Richie who couldn’t move from the spot due to a broken leg. Which leads to Zack and Billy protecting and looking out for and after four young adults with attitude.

In another tangential au, Richie isn’t a ranger at all, nor was he ever. He was confused when Trini confronted him, and it turns out it was Tommy all along. Trini apologies to Richie, who accepts the apology and is the reason Trini ultimately walks away from rangerdom for good. They have their four kids, are happy, and nobody dies.

#boom! comics power rangers

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mothbeasts · 3 years ago

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school is so mean to me why do i have to do assignments. why cant i just be a little guy and play my games all day.

#bee's buzzing #this isnt like a serious ventpost or anything. this ones fine to rb <3 and any of my others that are just like. silly.#im just sooooo bored. like. mmmgrrr hiss!!! my adhd meds make me able to focus a little better but its still so hard!!!!#and i have to call my history teacher today this is so mean to me </3 #but anyway. i wish i didnt have schoolwork because its so boring and mean and i dont CARE about fucking. like. politics class.#my ideal classes are like. a tiny group of only people that are funny and cool and are my friends and a cool teacher #because thats optimal learning environment for me! small in person class with teacher #and only my friends because groupwork with people i dont know is SOOOO stressful like genuinely. what if they suck.#what if i have to work with someone who literally hates me. what then. this is why i wanted to go to the gay school but my dad said no </3 #because he didnt feel like moving to the town it was in after my mom made me apply and i got accepted too!!!!! like sir please.#let me go to the gay school. thats where all the other gay people are. theres other people who like women there. maybe even other trans kid #my mom did say that if i pass this year (not even like with good grades just Pass) we can think about it again so im like. :0 #because she knows my dad is cishet and does not Get It.. but she does because she also likes women #got the woman liking passed down genetically from my mom or something just like the glasses and mental illness <3 #WOOPS im not deleting this though im infected with 'need to overshare in the tags of a tumblr post' disease #im not doing schoolwork yet im gonna like. draw. or play fallout maybe. might download 3. or play 4 again. OR play through nv #just to get to dead money.#my beloved dlc. the besties are there.

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hxseok-honee · 4 years ago

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blossom | part 16

blossom [part 16] || 'Hoseokie'

[‘cause all i need is to see you blossom out, blossom out, blossom out]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : I cant tell if this is a hobi chapter or a yoongi chapter but i am very in love with them both thats for sure -- lmk what you think!

“Hobi, hi!” Y/n had practically slammed face first into the front door in her rush to answer it, and she’s a little breathless when she finally greets him. She’d honestly been expecting maybe a different, more confident Hoseok than the one she’d become familiar with to be standing there -- after all, he certainly looks the part today. But she’s pleasantly surprised to find that he’s still the same old Hoseok, rocking back and forth on his heels on her porch while he takes in the exterior of her home with bright, wide eyes.

He turns those eyes to her now, his smile boyishly charming as his red ears poke out cutely from beneath his winter hat.

“Y/n! Your house is so cute!” The compliment rolls off his tongue immediately, because frankly it’s all he could think about as he’d walked up the path to her door. It suits her perfectly, this lovely little home on the outskirts of town. He holds up a bag when she thanks him, shaking it lightly while he steps inside, following her into the entryway.

“I know you said no gifts, but I couldn’t show up with nothing!” He sets the bag into her waiting hands, pulling out four flower crowns -- they’re perfect, clearly crafted with care and delicacy that borders on professional. Each one is unique in size and style, somehow a set of matching winter crowns but created with individual intent. She can’t even bother to hide the look of endearment she shoots him.

“Hobi, you really didn’t have to do all of this.” He waves her off while he removes his hat, and she sets the bag down so she can take his coat while he explains.

“It’s nothing, seriously. I didn’t know what I could possibly buy you and your family because I don’t know what they like, so I thought I’d stick to something I know… I tried to make the one for your dad a bit more, uh -- manly? It was hard, though.” He laughs off his slight embarrassment, but Y/n’s mind is stalling on what he’d said. She turns to him with an awkward smile.

“Ah… I thought the big one might have been to fit Yoongi’s massive head… I think it still would fit him, to be honest.” When Hoseok blinks at her in confusion, she only offers an uncomfortable laugh. “My dad’s not around, actually… There’s only three of us.” Hoseok’s eyes go wide, and he finds himself swearing internally. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d never mentioned her dad before.

“Shoot, I’m sorry -- I didn’t even think about it--”

“No, you’re fine! It’s okay, it’s my fault for forgetting to mention it.” When he tries to apologize again, Y/n only sets the larger flower crown on his head to silence him. It hangs low on his forehead, making her smile. “Seriously, Hobi -- you’re sweet for even thinking of all of this.” He opens his mouth, still feeling unsure, but another voice cuts in before he can say anything.

“Yoonie’s here! Oh-- you’re not Yoonie…” Sliding into the doorway with small socked feet is a literal carbon copy of Y/n -- granted, she’s about a head shorter and very clearly a child, but the resemblance is uncanny. Hoseok blinks at the girl, and she only blinks back, hands on her hips in what can be described only as disappointment. Y/n rolls her eyes playfully.

“Hoseok, meet Hana, my 8-year-old sister. Hana, meet the boy that brought you a handmade flower crown -- so be nice.” Immediately, Hana’s arms are dropping in surprise, her eyes wide as she glances at Hoseok’s hands. He smiles kindly, picking out the crown with the smallest circumference and handing it to her. The girl’s eyes almost sparkle with excitement as she moves to take it from him, fingers delicate as she sets it on her hair.

“I had to guess at what size your head would be, but I hope you like it!” Y/n’s sister blinks up at him with an expectant gaze when he’s done talking, clearly waiting for an assessment.

“Do I look nice?” Hoseok warms immediately, finding the girl entirely endearing. He nods, handing Y/n her own crown while he responds. He has to stop himself from doing a double-take when she puts hers on.

So pretty…

“Yay! Thank you for the pretty crown!” Hoseok blinks, realizing he’d definitely just said that out loud. Luckily, the sisters had taken it as a response to Hana’s question, and he feels relief flood his body at the coincidence. He’s so busy thanking whatever higher power had just saved him from that awkward moment that he misses the sound of the front door opening behind him.

“Yoonie!” Coming back to reality, Hoseok barely has time to jump out of the way as the 8-year-old barrels past him, charging with purpose for the person entering the home.

“Monkey!” The voice that hits his ears is familiar, but it’s entirely unlike the person he knows it belongs to. Looking up, Hoseok can only stare lamely as Hana all but flies through the air, caught securely in the arms of one Min Yoongi. The Slytherin laughs loudly at the sudden attack, swinging the girl around in greeting before taking a good look at her.

“Jeez, do you ever stop growing? I’m getting nervous over here, kid.” Yoongi sees Y/n and Hoseok then, and he greets them with nothing more than a nod and a cool grin.

“Happy Christmas, nerds--” Somehow managing to hold onto Hana with one arm, he extends the other out to Y/n, passing her a large bag of gifts. “The one on top’s for you -- don’t even think about it, loser.” Y/n had peered curiously at the topmost gift when he’d said it was hers, eyeing it with excitement. She rolls her eyes now, letting the bag hang at her side as she waves Hoseok into the next room -- a living room, decked out in warm blankets and an even warmer fireplace. There’s a staircase on the far end of the room, the wooden steps uneven from years of use. The home is small but very clearly lived in, and Hoseok’s happy to think that he’s been allowed into Y/n’s childhood home.

There are a few picture frames on the fireplace mantel, and he can’t help but wander over to them while Y/n sets the gifts under the decorated tree in the corner. He looks over the photos with a smile, listening as Yoongi and Hana catch up behind him.

“What’s that on your head, Monkey? I like it.”

“A flower crown from Y/n’s boyfriend! He said it looks pretty on me.” Y/n chokes on her own saliva when she hears those words -- Y/n’s boyfriend -- and Hoseok finds himself overheating just slightly. He swears it’s from the crackling fire in front of him, and he tugs a few times at the front of his dress shirt in discomfort. Y/n glares at Yoongi, who’s barely managing to contain his laughter.

“Hoseok’s not my boyfriend, Hana--” The girl turns, maneuvering her way out of Yoongi’s arms and onto his back while she responds, clearly confused.

“But the last boy you brought home was Stinky Koo, and he was your boyfriend!” Hoseok’s immensely glad that he’s still facing the fireplace, because the name Stinky Koo is much more amusing to him than it should be. He turns to face them only when he’s got his face under control, but he almost cracks when he sees how proud Yoongi looks -- it must have been him that had nicknamed Jungkook for the young girl.

Desperate to change the subject, Hoseok gestures at the photo in the middle of the mantel -- a portrait of the sisters and their mother.

“Your mom’s beautiful, Y/n. Like a queen.” Y/n smiles shyly, Yoongi nodding appreciatively behind her. He's doing just fine, Yoongi thinks to himself, seeing how obviously nervous Hoseok is.

“Well, thank you, young man! Y/n, I like this boy.” The photograph in question is nothing compared to the woman that enters the room, and Hoseok swears the genetics in this house have seriously won the lottery. Y/n’s mother has the kindest eyes he’s ever seen, and he feels like all he wants right now is to see those eyes look at him with approval. It would mean the world, honestly.

She steps toward the group of kids, smiling sweetly at Hoseok before immediately turning to Yoongi with an evil glint in her eye. The boy never stood a chance, only having enough time to inhale sharply before her fingers are coming down on his cheeks, pinching with all her might. Y/n snorts when Yoongi lets out a pained wail.

“Release me, woman!” Hoseok’s shocked at the tone Yoongi takes with her, but Y/n’s beside him in an instant to do damage control.

“My mom’s favorite pastime is antagonizing him -- Yoongi’s been around long enough that formalities just… don’t exist… You get used to it.” Hoseok only nods as he watches her mom start in on the Slytherin.

“Never in my life have I seen a boy with so little meat on his body -- do you even eat, or is the sickly look in style these days?” The woman pinches at Yoongi’s torso for emphasis, and he starts to wriggle away from her, Hana barely managing to hang onto him for dear life.

“This is why I never come here -- the bullying is insufferable!” Yoongi hops around the living room with the 8-year-old glued to him, racing for the doorway into another room when he sees that Y/n’s mom isn’t giving up anytime soon. She almost follows the pair when they disappear, deciding instead to stay in the room with Y/n and Hoseok, an innocent grin on her face.

“You look much healthier than that bag of bones over there--” Hoseok realizes she’s addressing him and smiles, extending a hand to greet her and ignoring Yoongi when he lets out an enraged ‘hey!’ in the other room.

“You have such a lovely home, Ma’am-- Oh! I made you this!” He’d almost forgotten about his gift, but it’s hanging from the wrist he’s using to shake her hand, making him look both awkward and cute as he struggles to hand it to her with some semblance of elegance. “I hope you like it-- I can mend it if it’s too big! But… I left my bag at home, so I’ll have to run to get the scissors and twine-- Oh, it fits!” Y/n’s mom had watched him stumble over his words for a moment before decisively setting the crown on her head with a smile.

“I love it, Hoseok -- thank you.” He blinks, realizing that she knows his name although he had forgotten to introduce himself, and it clicks that Y/n’s talked about him to her mom before. The shy smile on the Gryffindor’s face only confirms his suspicions, filling him with joy. He smiles brightly, following Y/n’s mom when she waves him into the room where Yoongi had gone.

It’s a kitchen, small but comfortable, with a dining table positioned in the middle of the room. When they enter, they find Yoongi bent over the open oven door, lifting a large dish out of it and setting it on top of the stove. Hana’s clung tightly to his back, but the Sytherin moves around the kitchen with ease, dropping the oven mitts on the counter on his way to grab plates from one of the cabinets. It’s obvious not only that he’s very used to having Y/n’s sister stuck to him, but also that he’s comfortable in this home, fully aware of how the house functions.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? Get out of my kitchen -- you’ll break something!” Y/n’s mom makes a beeline for Yoongi, swatting him away with an oven mitt scooped up from the counter. He complains loudly, grabbing at it and arguing with the woman.

“Will you please just sit down and let me do this?! You’re in my way -- go sit down, Mom!” It looks like a fight -- by all standards, it’s a mother and son arguing and nothing else. But Hoseok looks around the room, taking in the table full of homemade food, the sink full of dishes from the cooking. He sees the light sheen of sweat on the woman’s face, knowing just by looking that she’d been working tirelessly to make Christmas dinner for them. And when he looks to Yoongi, he sees that the boy knows this, too -- that he’s urging her to sit down and relax, that he’s just making it seem like he’s annoyed instead of openly caring for her. That, along with the fact that Hana is very clearly emotionally attached to the Slytherin, makes it obvious to Hoseok that Yoongi belongs here. That this Yoongi belongs here, not the promiscuous one that the entirety of Hogwarts knows. Hogwarts doesn’t know this Yoongi.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Hoseok jumps, realizing when he turns that Y/n’s watching him closely. He smiles, cocking his head to the side in confusion. The chaos of the room never stops, happening in the background while he and Y/n stand in the doorway.

“What thing?” She grins, pointing at his face.

“That observant badger thing. You’re just watching and taking mental notes.” He flushes slightly, not even realizing that he does this often enough to classify it as a ‘thing’. He gestures to her best friend, a question slipping out in the form of an observation, something he’s apparently good at.

“I didn’t realize Yoongi was good with kids.” Y/n snickers, shaking her head.

“He’s not, actually. One time, he tripped over a kid at the store because he hadn’t seen them walking past, and for the rest of the day he kept saying ‘children are the evil groundhogs of the world… waiting to pop their little heads out of the ground and scare you’. It was kinda dramatic.” Hoseok blinks, utterly dumbfounded by that story because it sounds exactly like something Yoongi say, but the Yoongi in the kitchen right now is not showing any of that malice.

“So… then how did this happen?” He gestures to the pair hopping around the dining table, Hana now clinging to Yoongi’s leg while the boy sets out utensils, all the while bickering with her mom. It’s not hard to imagine, seeing how the girl hangs off of him, why Yoongi calls her Monkey.

“Well -- Hana’s 8, which means Yoongi’s been in her life for… almost the entirety of it. And, although I doubt he’d say it, I know he feels some sense of responsibility for her since our dad’s not around. He’s just kind of always looked after her, so she definitely relies on him a lot.” Y/n looks at peace when she says it, and Hoseok gets the feeling that she appreciates Yoongi’s involvement with her family more than she’s letting on.

“They’re pretty cute… It’s nice to see.” Y/n smirks at Hoseok’s final assessment before beckoning him further into the kitchen, commenting in a low voice as she moves to the table.

“Don’t let Yoongi hear you say that -- his ego needs to be kept under control as it is.” Yoongi looks up when he hears his name, lifting an eyebrow but asking no questions as he examines Hoseok and Y/n. Letting it go, he glances down at the child sitting on his foot.

“Let’s wash our hands, Monkey. I dont need your dirty germs getting in my food.” Hana protests loudly but allows Yoongi to haul her off to the bathroom to wash up. He sets his phone on the table when he goes, and Hoseok can only imagine how much trust he has in Y/n to leave her with it -- especially because it keeps buzzing with notifications, and Hoseok can tell even from here that Yoongi has his message previews on.

When they return, Y/n passes the boy his phone, but not before it lights up again in her hand. Without meaning to, she glances down at it, and Hoseok’s not sure what she sees, but it has Yoongi looking at her with wide eyes once he’s gotten a chance to read it, too. He eyes her almost guiltily, but she only smiles knowingly and turns back to the table, taking the seat next to Hoseok.

“Let’s eat!”

Dinner passes surprisingly easily for Hoseok -- he’d been nervous all day, changing and re-changing his clothes until finally he’d just given up and left his apartment. But now, sitting here with Y/n and her family, he feels welcomed, included immediately in the chaos of the group dynamic while they eat. Her mother insists on piling his plate high with insanely delicious food, although it’s not nearly as much as she feeds Yoongi, who looks disgruntled at being called a walking skeleton but eats it all with vigor, anyway.

Just as they’re finishing dinner, Hoseok jumping to his feet to help clear the table, Hana rests her elbows on the wood, peering up at him curiously while he moves around the room. He has to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling when he spots her legs swinging back and forth from her chair, not yet able to reach the floor.

“Who’s that other flower crown for? Is it for you? It’s kinda big on you!” His eyes widen just a fraction, and he looks to Y/n for help as he hums. Y/n starts talking at the same time he does.

“Oh, it’s just an extra--

“He just accidentally made it too big--”

“It’s for me!” Yoongi cuts them both off with finality, sticking his hand out almost childishly for the crown hanging low on Hoseok’s head. Hoseok looks at him in shock, forgetting to mask his emotions for the young girl in front of him. But it’s fine because Hana’s only looking at Yoongi, something the Slytherin's clearly aware of when he waves his awaiting hand, dramatically impatient for her sake.

“But then why haven’t you been wearing it the whole time?” The girl’s questions are straight to the point, and Y/n’s mom starts to tell her not to pry, but Yoongi’s always ready for Hana’s inquiries.

“Obviously, Hoseok’s a little shy about giving me a Christmas gift -- he’s been waiting for the right time!” He sounds so sure of himself, like he actually believes it. But as Hoseok’s lifting the crown off of his head and setting it in Yoongi’s hand, he sees the look the boy gives him, and he knows that Yoongi’s aware of the assumption he’d made about Y/n’s father.

And of course Yoongi knows -- he’d made the exact same mistake the first time he’d visited the home at 11 years old, walking in with expensive gifts for both parents because his mom had always stressed that ‘you never go to someone else’s house empty handed’. Hana was much too young then, only a year old, and Yoongi’s not about to let the girl catch on now and risk souring the Christmas spirit. He knows how insecure she gets sometimes about not having a dad, so he saves Hoseok from the moment with practiced ease.

Looking away from the Hufflepuff and turning to Hana while he sets the crown on his head, he points up at it.

“How’s it look, Monkey?” The girl hums, squinting for a moment before nodding.

“It fits! Probably because you have a big head.” Y/n snorts loudly, even Hoseok coughing out a laugh while he sets dishes in the sink. Yoongi only nods, accepting that he’s just been blatantly insulted by an 8-year-old, made worse by Y/n’s mom running her hand over Hana’s hair in amused approval.

“That’s my girl -- you tell the skinny boy how it is.” Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but the woman’s standing to retrieve something from the fridge, and immediately his complaints are replaced by an excited gasp.

“Is that--”

“Well, someone’s gotta feed you your favorites!” Hoseok only glances over his shoulder while he and Y/n clean up, seeing that the woman’s setting a pumpkin pie on the counter and reaching for a knife to cut it. Another glance tells him that Yoongi’s argumentative nature’s been won over by the dessert, and he’s standing to help her serve 5 plates of it, shy smile peeking through.

“Thanks, Mom…” The woman grins, bumping him with her hip but not saying anything about the embarrassment on his face. She turns, holding two plates and gesturing toward the fridge while she heads for the living room.

“Grab the whipped cream on your way, will you, Hoseokie?” Hoseok almost drops the dirty plate he’s setting in the sink, all the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when he hears the name Y/n’s mom calls him. Y/n notices that he stills suddenly beside her, but before she can mention it, he’s blinking, the moment gone as he moves to the fridge with a smile.

The group migrates to the living room, Y/n’s mom taking the armchair by the tree while Y/n and Hoseok share the couch. Yoongi’s sitting on the floor with his legs crisscrossed, Hana seated comfortably in his lap. The plates of pie sit on the table next to Yoongi’s head, and he keeps glancing anxiously at them, like he’s wondering if he can sneak a bite without anyone noticing. Y/n’s mom’s voice rings out, and he knows he’s been caught.

“Not a chance, Yoongi -- presents first!” Rolling his eyes but nodding anyway, he turns his attention back to the group, where Y/n is passing out presents to everyone. The biggest ones always go to Hana, who seems very excited but is somehow even more enthused about finally giving everyone her own gifts, small trinkets she’d picked out with immense care during her school’s holiday field trip. Y/n has to stop herself from snapping a photo of Yoongi’s face when he unwraps a snake plushie, watching with amusement when he cradles it close to his chest, eyes full of adoration as he mouths "I love her" to the Gryffindor. Hana doesn’t even notice how dramatically sentimental he is, her short attention span having her already turning to Hoseok with a large smile and a small gift.

“This one’s for you, Hoseokie!” Hoseok chokes on his saliva, paling slightly when he hears that name again. Y/n picks up on it for sure this time, but she doesn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt his and Hana’s moment.

Hoseok takes the gift with shaking hands, masking whatever’s running through his mind with a shy smile.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Hana -- thank you!” The girl watches with intense interest while he peels the wrapping paper off, revealing a pink ballpoint pen in the shape of a flower, explaining when he holds it up in the light.

“Y/n told me you liked flowers when I asked! Do you like it?” Hoseok smiles brightly, pressing down on the center of the flower with a quiet click and running the tip of the pen along the knuckle on his thumb to test the ink.

“I love it! I’ll use it every day!” Y/n smiles then, thinking how endearing he’ll look, using a pink ballpoint flower pen in a school that still standardizes quill and ink. But she knows he means it and won’t even think twice about using it. Hana beams up at him, but her eyes become curious almost immediately.

“But -- do you not like the name ‘Hoseokie’? You looked a little sad when I said it…” Y/n cringes, cursing the fact that her sister is both extremely observant and completely lacks a filter. She’s like the perfect mix of Hoseok and Yoongi, something that would be really funny if the situation hadn’t just gotten really uncomfortable.

Hoseok gapes at the girl, letting out a breath of laughter when she only tilts her head to the side curiously. It’s fine that he’d been caught -- it’s just a little embarrassing that it had happened here at Y/n’s family dinner, where he’d been trying to make a good impression and leave only good energy behind. With a slight sigh, he shakes his head to answer Hana’s question.

“I don’t not like ‘Hoseokie’ -- I actually really like it… it’s just--” He glances quickly at Y/n, feeling a bit awkward. “My little sister used to call me that…” Immediately, Y/n’s looking to Yoongi out of the corner of her eye, finding that he’s doing the same, the alarm in his eyes matching her own. Hoseok had never mentioned a sister.

“It’s a little… uncomfortable, so I feel bad…” Hoseok looks to Y/n’s mom then, watching carefully for her reaction when he continues. “My parents run an apiary -- they’re very big nature types, all about the ‘way of the natural world’ and stuff like that… that's why--" He cuts off, gesturing vaguely to the crown on the woman's head. That's why I know how to do this, he means. Clearing his throat, he continues. "So it didn’t really… go well… when I turned 11 and got the letter saying I was a wizard.” Y/n hears Yoongi inhale sharply from where he’s sitting, and she knows he’s putting the pieces together like she is.

When Hoseok sees that Y/n’s mom is watching him with a guarded expression, almost worried about where he’s going with him, he bites at the inside of his cheek nervously. Y/n had never explicitly said it, but he could tell the minute he walked into the house just a few hours ago that she’s also a muggleborn. Wizarding homes always show signs of magic -- dishes that wash themselves, hanging plants that can’t be found anywhere in the muggle world, that kind of thing. He hadn’t seen anything to give away a magical upbringing, almost shocked at how much Y/n’s home reminded him of his own childhood.

He can see now that the woman is glancing at her own daughter, and he knows what she’s thinking. Y/n and Hoseok are the same, but his world had been entirely different. He sees her making that connection, so he just decides to rip off the metaphorical band-aid and finish explaining.

“My parents didn’t want something ‘unnatural’ living in the house, influencing their innocent daughter, so they kicked me out. Agreed to help me pay for an apartment and bills as long as I promised to never reach out to them for anything else -- Dumbledore helped me out the first few summers, let me stay on the grounds since I wasn’t old enough to be on my own. I moved into a place not far from here when I turned 15.”

He’s got his eyes screwed shut now, terrified of the pity he’s going to find when he opens them again. It’s too quiet, and he feels his ears warming, knowing that it looks like he’s been thrown away, discarded. He doesn’t feel that way, having accepted his situation when he was still young -- having decided to accept his situation because it was better than being bitter. But he knows what people will see when they find out, so he’d gone to great lengths to hide it. Because he doesn’t need pity, he’s happy as he is.

While he’s thinking of how to ease everyone’s tension, he’s completely unprepared for the arms that wrap around his neck. Cracking his eyes open, he realizes these arms are quite small, that the person hugging him is quite small.

“Will you come back for family dinner every year?” Hana’s question is muffled in his neck, but the words have his heart stuttering because he really hadn’t been expecting this. Glancing quickly at Y/n, he finds that the pity he’d been preparing for isn’t there. She looks completely heartbroken, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but more than anything she looks mad.

She blinks it away when they make eye contact, and she nods while reaching for his hand. He’s not sure what she’s nodding at, and he gets the feeling she doesn’t know either, but he takes it as her understanding. Understanding that he doesn’t want to talk about it further, understanding what he’d meant in the forest that day about being happy alone.

Just past Y/n, Yoongi’s standing from his spot on the floor with a groan and a crack of his spine. He moves for Hana, who’s still clinging to Hoseok’s neck.

“Of course he’ll be back, Monkey. He’s not goin’ anywhere.” It’s said so simply, without any particular feeling to guide it, but Hoseok’s so immensely grateful for Min Yoongi in that moment. Not only because he hadn’t changed at all in the way he’d looked at Hoseok -- his eyes are still even and calm, if not laced with slightest bit of emotion when their gazes lock -- but because Hoseok had just received clear and direct approval from the one person in Y/n’s life that he’d been most nervous about.

It’s one thing to be nervous about family or the entirety of her friend group -- those things are normal. Min Yoongi is not normal, not to Y/n. He’s the only person that knows Y/n better than she knows herself, and Hoseok hadn’t even realized just how terrified he’d been that Yoongi wouldn’t accept him suddenly appearing in Y/n’s life the way he had. But he sees now, while Yoongi is slowly peeling Hana off of him and carrying her to the staircase, claiming that it’s ‘way past her bedtime’, that Yoongi’s just let him in. The girl waves goodnight to the rest of the group, almost immediately sleepy now that Yoongi's carrying her to bed.

When Hoseok looks to Y/n, eyes wide with surprise, he sees that she’s noticed Yoongi's behavior, too. Because she’s got her eyes closed, but she’s smiling fondly, like the telltale signs of Yoongi’s respect have finally revealed themselves, decidedly giving Hoseok his stamp of approval.

He’s so busy reveling in the fact that he’d just gotten all the reactions to his life story that he’d been expecting the least that he barely feels Y/n’s mom set a hand on his shoulder when she stands. He looks up now, taking in her kind eyes, and he thinks she’s going to say something sentimental, but--

“I like you a whole lot more than I liked Jungkook.” Hoseok’s jaw drops, and Y/n’s scoffing loudly beside him.

“Mom!” The woman smiles, leaving the two them there on the couch while she grabs the plates of pie, mumbling something about ‘needing to pack Noodle Arms a plate to go’ before heading into the kitchen. Hoseok can do nothing but laugh when he looks to Y/n, who’s still completely scandalized by her mom’s comment.

“I can’t tell if I should feel highly approved of, or just regularly approved of since Jungkook is apparently low on the Family Opinions list.” Y/n nudges him with her elbow playfully, and they sit there quietly together on the couch for a moment. He finds himself reaching out to brush his fingers across her knee insecurely.

“You know, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I really am okay -- I said it before, but I just… I’ve been okay not having anyone. It never really haunted me or hurt me or anything I’m sure you’d expect an abandoned child to feel. I just… took the bad with the good and decided to focus on the happy moments of my childhood because, believe it or not, I had a lot of them. It’s just easier to remember my parents as they were before, so that’s what I do.” Y/n nods slowly when he’s done, feeling a lot of things but wondering if maybe it’s not her place to say it. He sees it anyway, because he sees everything.

“You’re angry. That they left me.” Y/n glances at him quickly, wondering if he’s upset at all -- this is such a delicate subject, and she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to feel this mad for him. But he’s smiling, like he can tell she’d been trying to hide it and he’s finding her incredibly endearing for it. She purses her lips and nods shyly, confirming his suspicions.

“That they left you… yes. But I’m angry that they kept your sister from you.” It’d been obvious in the way Hoseok had talked about his parents that he’d become purposely detached from them, that he’d accepted the situation and doesn’t feel any certain way about them. But the name -- ‘Hoseokie’ -- it had set him on edge in a way she’d never seen in this carefree, sunny boy before. His sister’s a sore spot, probably the one thing that hurts most. His smile tells her everything she needs to know, because she’s never once seen him smile bitterly. And yet there it is, forcing his dimples to make an appearance in a way that isn’t as heartwarming as it usually is.

“The last time I saw her, she was Hana’s age… she probably looks so different now.” If a person could physically deflate into nothingness, Y/n would have successfully done it. Hoseok can’t help but snicker, the image of Y/n almost melting into the couch too endearing.

“I -- I can’t even imagine… not knowing what Hana will look like in a few years.” It breaks her heart all over again, the way Hoseok nods, because he knows exactly what that feels like. But he refuses to dwell on it, clapping his hands down on his knees decisively and shaking Y/n from her stupor with the noise.

“Spend New Year’s Eve with me!” Y/n’s brain stalls, trying to process what he’d just said. He waits patiently, smiling while she switches mental gears and catches up to him.

“Huh? I mean -- sure? Yes? But, huh?” He laughs under his breath, finding her confusion almost obnoxiously cute.

“I’ve never had anyone to spend it with. Now that I do… I really want to spend it with you.” Y/n swallows hard, wondering where these butterflies in her stomach are coming from -- maybe it’s the way he’s watching her, eyes curious as he waits for her reaction. She only nods, suddenly very shy under his gaze.

“I’d love to, Hoseok…” He warms at how low her voice is, and now he’s the one feeling shy, pressing his palms into his thighs and staring down at his lap. They’re quiet for a moment, the soft crackling from the fireplace filling the silence, until--

“Oh, just kiss already!” They both turn quickly toward the voice, finding Yoongi standing at the bottom of the staircase, a look of disgust filling his face. He shakes his head when they gape at him, going so far as to wave his hand quickly, his palm passing through the air with intent. “Look, I even helped.” He’s looking at the space above their heads, and when she and Hoseok follow his eyes, they find a piece of mistletoe growing from the ceiling, hanging down between them.

Y/n groans in annoyance while Hoseok sits there, blushing brightly at Yoongi’s forwardness. As if to make things worse for him, Y/n’s mom enters the room again then, noticing the mistletoe right away as she’s handing the comically large stack of to-go containers over to Yoongi.

“Oh, cute! Did they kiss?” She looks at Yoongi when she asks, and he shakes his head in disappointment -- Hoseok gets the feeling they’re enjoying pretending he and Y/n aren’t right here when they start snickering in unison.

“Well, I gotta go--” Yoongi stops to glare at Y/n when she looks at him knowingly, eyebrows raised. Hoseok wonders if maybe this is about the messages she’d seen on the Slytherin’s phone earlier. “-- but I’ll catch you guys later. Happy Christmas, nerds!” With that he’s heading for the entryway, and Hoseok can hear him bickering with Y/n’s mom all the way to the door.

“Yes, I brought my coat--”

“You don’t have a hat! I’m sure they make hats for big-headed people, too--”

“That is so offensive on so many levels--”

“I’ll just have to make you one myself--”

“Mom! Stop working so hard, I promise I’ll go buy a damn hat!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Big-Head!”

“I got us takeout!” It’s the first thing she says when Hoseok opens the door to his apartment, emphasized by the large bag she’s shaking in his face with enthusiasm. He pokes his head around it, smiling brightly at her.

“I also got us takeout!” Lowering her bag in surprise, she follows Hoseok into the small studio when he beckons her in, slipping her shoes off at the door as she looks to the kitchenette, where an equally large bag of food sits. She only looks to Hoseok, dumbfounded, and she finds he’s giving her the same look.

“How are we gonna eat all this--”

“No idea.” Y/n snorts when he looks between their two bags, face deadpan as he reaches for hers and sets it on the table beside his. He looks at them for a moment longer, finally speaking.

“Did we get takeout from the same place?” Y/n hangs her head with a groan when she realizes the bags look exactly the same. When she looks up again, he’s heading for the cabinets to get plates, his shoulders shaking with laughter. It’s infectious, and soon she’s shaking her head, turning to look around the apartment while she laughs openly. Her breath is cut short almost immediately when she looks at the living area.

“Holy plants.” Hoseok glances over to where she’s looking, a nervous laugh leaving him.

“Too much?” To put it simply, they’re everywhere. Floor plants, hanging plants, windowsill plants -- everywhere. There’s even a massive plant overtaking the table next to his bed in the corner, not an inch of space for him to put anything else. She feels like she just walked into a jungle.

“Your air must be really clean…” Hoseok laughs loudly, not having expected that to be her one assessment of his plant collection.

“You’re lucky I haven’t covered the couch in plants, too -- where are we gonna sit to watch TV?” As if the universe has decided to test him at this very moment in time for absolutely no reason other than to make him suffer, the apartment goes dark with the booming sound of the entire room powering down.

Hoseok barely manages to hold in his groan when he hears Y/n turn in his direction in the dark.

“I wasn’t watching anything good on TV these days, anyway.”

“Come on, come on -- where are they--”

“Hoseok, it’s fine--”

“I swear I had candles--”

“Hoseok--”

“Aha!” He pokes his head up from where he’s crouched by the closet, holding a stack of small candles triumphantly. Y/n’s sitting at the dining table, having cast lumos long ago and unpacked their copious amounts of food with nothing but the light of her wand. She’s smiling at him fondly now as he shows her the candles.

“Are you feeling better now?” Hoseok lowers his candles, sending her a sheepish smile as he rises to his feet and moves to join her at the table. He’d immediately started apologizing to her when the power had gone out, thrown into a panicked rush to fix things as he flitted around his apartment. She’d tried to reassure him that everything was okay, but he’d still felt really bad for messing up their night.

“I’m sorry, Y/n… I told my parents that I’m still in school until the spring, but I don’t think they heard that part when they said they were gonna stop helping me pay for stuff after graduation… I’ve been applying for jobs all year, but they just don’t really start accepting people until they see our NEWT results and transcripts and stuff, so--”

“Hobi.” He stops at the nickname, realizing when she levels him with a hard stare that he’s devolving into anxious rambling again. She reaches across the table, taking his hands in hers.

“Stop apologizing, Hobi. This isn’t your fault, and you haven’t ruined anything. I promise.” He’s slow to nod, but eventually he accepts her words, seeing how insistent she is.

“I do have one question, though.” He blinks, humming curiously when she continues and wondering what she’s going to say. “Do you… have spare blankets? Because it’s going to get very cold in here very fast.”

“I don’t think I want to eat anything ever again.”

“Mmm… Mmmm…”

“So you agree.”

“Mhm… Mmm…” Hoseok throws his head back against the couch, completely unable to form words after the meal they’d just had. Y/n snorts, nodding as she gets used to his various sounds of exhaustion.

“Me too, Hobi.” They sit there quietly for only a moment before Hoseok is lifting his head, urgent. Y/n looks at him, wondering what’s happening in his head when he turns to her, face deadpan yet again.

“I bought us ice cream on my way home with the food.” Immediately, she’s groaning, and he joins her in flopping around on his couch dramatically. Y/n takes a moment through her food-induced haze to appreciate their little setup.

The candles are set strategically on his coffee table and counters, clear of any plants because the last thing they need tonight is a fire. She’d been right in assuming it’d get cold, and they’d eventually stopped trying to manage with small blankets, dragging his comforter right off the bed and curling up together beneath it as they ate dinner. She can’t even recall what they’d talked about, the entire thing a confused fog from the food.

She knows they’d been giddy the whole time, on a weird high from the collection of ridiculous things that had happened in the first five minutes of her being here. That, along with the sheer amount of food and the wine Hoseok had pulled out for them, ended up creating nonstop laughter over the smallest things. She’s comfortable here, never having experienced a bubble of quiet happiness like this. She feels no pressure and she’s worried about nothing -- everything had fallen away when she’d walked in the door, the rest of the world blocked out from this safe space, here with Hoseok in his apartment.

“Oh! It’s almost midnight!” Hoseok’s squinting at his phone in the dark before showing her the screen -- 11:55pm. She glances at her own phone, sitting peacefully on the table in front of them, and she hates that the only thing she can think of is Jungkook. She’s scared that this period of silence between them will have done nothing, that as soon as the new year starts, he’s going to be back to badgering her constantly. She just wants everything to return to normal, and she’s scared that she only has five minutes left before that dream falls apart.

“Hey… Where’d you go just now?” Blinking, she sees that Hoseok’s peering at her, brow furrowed in concern. His phone toggles when he moves closer to her, a small pout set in his features, and the screen lights up again. 11:57pm. She hates that, after such a good night, it had taken only this to have them both frowning. She hates it.

“I just… I really just want all of this to be normal again. I want Jungkook to be normal again. I want the new year to be something good again, and I’m terrified it won’t be. I just want to forget everything bad from this year and start fresh.” She rolls her eyes at herself, hating that she’s ranting to Hoseok about her love life again, when they’d just wanted to have a nice New Year’s Eve together. But his mind is elsewhere, a thought crossing his mind suddenly. He checks his phone again. 11:59pm.

“Maybe I can help with that?” Y/n looks to him when he says it, confused.

“What do you mean?” He blinks, trying to decide if he’s really going to do this. The nervous feeling building in his stomach is somehow telling him this is a bad and good idea. He turns to her quickly.

“With that fresh start… forgetting the bad from this year… Maybe I can help…?” Y/n’s not sure what he means, but she doesn’t see why she would say no. Hoseok’s never done anything but help, even when he doesn’t realize it. If anyone’s going to help her forget, it’s him.

So she nods, waiting for him to explain. And then she’s gasping, because he’s leaning in, and she can see even in the dim lighting that he’s looking at her lips -- that he’s going to kiss her.

He pauses for a second to give her time to push him away. When she doesn’t, he’s glancing up and finding that she’s looking at him nervously, her gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. With a small inhale, he lets his eyes drift shut, closing the gap between them carefully.

Y/n’s not even sure she’s kissing him back -- she’s too focused on the feeling of his lips on her, how gentle he’s being as he applies just the slightest pressure to her mouth with his own. But she must be kissing him back, because he’s responding to something, his lips pressing harder when he feels her reciprocating.

It’s only one kiss, one that he pulls back from slowly after a moment, their breaths mingling warmly in the small space he’s created. Neither of them makes a move, eyes hooded and noses brushing in his dark apartment as they try to make sense of this haze long enough to figure out if this has really just happened. If Hoseok’s really just kissed her on New Year’s Eve.

And then her phone is lighting up on the table, celebratory texts from her friends pouring in, and they turn at the same time to glance at the screen. 12:00am.

Hoseok turns back to her then, eyes searching hers for something -- he’s not really sure what it is, but when a shy smile starts to dance at the edges of her lips, he knows he’s found it.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jung hoseok #hoseok x reader

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ionlytalktodogs · 3 years ago

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Wild stories about my family:

-My grandmother was born in France but she went to Spain to go to a boarding school run by nuns. She got expelled when she told a nun that her beard was itchy. She then went to a DIFFERENT boarding school run by nuns…and ran into the same nun (who was apparently fired from her previous job for unrelated reasons).

-We had a famous tree but it fell down. It was really big and really old and everyone was like “holy fuck that tree is really big and really old” and then it became a symbol of the area.

-My cousin makes horrible French rap music. We keep telling him to stop. He doesn’t listen.

-My great grandmother (who I’m named after) had my grandmother right in the middle of WW2 and when some Nazis tried to force my great grandma to let them stay with her, she yelled at them that she’ll kill them if they wake up her baby, and they left 💀

-I don’t know if this story is true but it’s been passed down for generations. An ancestor of mine was a personal guard for Napoleon and he was once walking next to Napoleon in a snowstorm and Napoleon said, “(His name) your foot is bleeding.” And he responded with something to the effect of, “I know I just didn’t want to say anything.” This is evidence that personality traits are in fact genetically inheritable

-My great grandfather fought in both world wars, despite kind of being too old to fight in WW2. He was also a prisoner of war for some time in WW2 (and I think in WW1 too)

-When my grandma married a Jew and converted, her parents were NOT happy. Yes my great grandpa fought in both world wars but he was also devoutly catholic and not cool with his daughter’s family being Jewish. Then he met my grandpa and immediately decided he likes Jewish people now. My grandpa is just kind of…like that.

-When my parents were in their homophobia era, my grandparents used to sneak me books about gay characters. They were all really long books about old gay men that I couldn’t read because of ADHD and dyslexia but I appreciated the gesture anyway. And from what I could read, I gather this Dorian Grey fella was pretty interesting.

-My grandpa has gotten arrested multiple times for protesting (in his youth AND now) and didn’t attend the 2020 protests solely because he was in bad health at the time (hip surgery).

-My grandma knows Brazilian Portuguese but the woman she hired to clean for her (after her back became too bad for her to clean) was from Portugal so my grandma just…became fluent in Portugal Portuguese. This is her sixth language she’s fluent in. (First is French, second is Spanish, third is English, fourth is Brazilian Portuguese, fifth is Latin)

-My aunt liked Jules Verne so hard that she got to meet the president of France. Literally. She teaches a whole class on Jules Verne.

-Speaking of my aunt, she has a dog who put my entire arm in his mouth when I was 6 years old (I didn’t care, he was a puppy and he was just teething a little), fought a bear (and won), and saved my uncle’s life by alerting my aunt when he fell down the stairs. My dog is afraid of his own farts.

-My grandma is obsessed with this invasive plant species called Black Swallowwort. She goes to her neighbors houses and insists on getting rid of it for them. She put together a whole group of local gardeners against Black Swallowwort. Even the local Jehovah’s Witnesses get annoyed by her door knocking.

This is only my mom’s side of the family because the only noteworthy thing about my dad’s side of the family is their satanic shrine to Ronald Reagan so I don’t talk about them.

#I love my family #this side at least #they’re such interesting people #I don’t talk about it because I don’t want people to think I #I’m bragging #I’m just proud of my family and their accomplishments #and my grandparents have supported me when no one else would #so they’re really special to me #is this #wholesome #idk

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

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This is an alternate ending for my Bio!dad Joker / Bio!mom Harley AU. Or really, the timeline itself will be entirely different starting from the moment that Marinette’s plane lands in Gotham. If you haven’t read the original, you can do so here.

��*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette often hated how accurate her intuition tended to be. She had barely even stepped out of the airport before she had felt the prick of a needle in her neck and the sensation of being shoved into a small, dark space before her vision cut out.

Looks like her mom wasn’t able to hide her existence away as well as they thought.

And unfortunately for Marinette, her darling asshole of a father had apparently had ample time to plan his first meeting with her. If he had just used the much easier to acquire Chloroform on her, then Marinette likely would have woken up early enough to come up with a plan. Chloroform was unreliable and wore off fairly easily. But no, he had actually had the time to steal hospital grade anesthetic.

Which meant that Marinette woke up with her wrists zip-tied to heavy links of chain above her head, and her ankles connected to the chain below her with what felt like ten layers of duct tape.

Lovely.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead!” Those were the high-pitched, dramatic words she heard when she came back to consciousness. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know who the speaker was— she had watched enough videos online and not-so-legally obtained Asylum and Prison footage to immediately recognize the speech patterns and tone that was echoing around her.

Apparently keeping her eyes closed was not allowed, because it was only a few seconds later that Marinette felt a harsh slap sting her cheek and whip her face to the side. Oh, that would become a bruise without a doubt. Her teeth betrayed her, cutting into the inside of her mouth with the force of the hit. So, when Marinette opened her eyes to glare at the sperm donor responsible for half of her DNA, she aimed her bloody spit right at him. It landed on his shoe, which only a few seconds later slammed into her gut.

Marinette gasped for air even as the chain she was on swung violently, making her dizzy and upsetting her stomach. Too bad she didn’t have anything in there to throw up on him, she thought angrily. The chain links rattled loudly, ringing in her head alongside the electric pain of both of her newly forming bruises.

“Honestly, is that any way to treat your dear ol’ Daddy?” Joker cooed with false offense, one hand over his heart. Marinette glared at him as best as she could as she continued to sway in the open air, the chain she was tied to being the only thing keeping her from plunging straight down into a vat of sickly green, bubbling liquid.

Marinette didn’t need to be told what that liquid was. And joker knew that, the moment he saw her look down at that vat and saw the realization almost immediately cross her face. So instead of explaining, he laughed. Loud, high, and deranged.

“Good, good! That idiot Harley kept you educated, at least,” he said between psychotic chuckles. “Ah yes, and she somehow managed to choose the perfect name,” he glided over to her, as if he was some ethereal demon of chaos instead of a human. His paper-white hand reached out, grabbing her chin in a crushing grip and turning her face this way and that. Inspecting her as if she was a piece of china and not a living being. “So easy to adjust. Right now, you’re Marinette. Just like how, all those years ago, your mother stood here as Harleen. But just as she was dunked into acid and became my harlequin,” he stepped back and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. He spun her like a top, making the metal chain creak and clink as it wound into a few weak coils and then released back out, trying to go straight again. It sent Marinette twirling through the air in a horrid half-spin, one-eighty degrees one way before sharply spinning to the other side. Joker laughed.

“Just like that, you’re gonna go from boring old Marinette,” he stuck out his tongue like a child, as if the mere taste of her name was bitter. “And you’ll be reborn as my new little Marionette. Aren’t you excited?!”

“Fuck you,” Marinette spat, even as she tried to blink and return her vision to normal. She was far too disoriented to even come up with a plan— but she was still coherent enough to register that the sky was dark outside the high windows of the factory she was apparently in. She had been missing for a few hours then, which meant that her mom and Momma Ivy would have called for help a long time ago. Maybe if she just stalled long enough, it would get there in time. “I’m not a puppet. Not for you, not for anybody!” She snarled.

Joker rolled his eyes, but his smile still widened. “Oh, that’s what they all say. In fact, your mother put up a good resistance there for a while, but her inner chaos couldn’t resist me. You’ll bend even easier, I have no doubt,” her ran his hand along her cheek in a motion that was so gentle that it felt foreign, wrong, to her coming from him. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to whiplash her, take all her hope away before dangling the option he wanted her to choose in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

Too bad he didn’t know her at all. She cringed away from his gentle touch, revolted by the mere feel of his skin on her’s.

“And your accent is a nice touch,” he cooed as if her reaction didn’t bother him at all. It probably didn’t. “Exotic. Just the thing I need to freshen up my usual act a bit, the Boston twang my old Harlequins had is just… stale by now, don’t you agree?”

Marinette clenched her jaw at the reminder that he had tried to pass off a cheap look-alike as her mom when she disappeared, back when she was pregnant with Marinette, to hide her baby from Joker. How he had discarded that woman like trash when Harley went back to him, only to replace her again when her mom left him for good.

No matter how badly Joker spoke of her mom, Marinette knew that Harley had been the only Harlequin of his to actually last. The only one he kept around, and there was a reason for that. Now, he was looking for another replacement. One that was more than a cheap knockoff, and he was hoping that a teenager with not only Harley’s genetics, but also his own, would be the exact kind of right-hand prop he wanted. An obedient little puppet of chaos, just for him.

But Marinette was nobody's toy. She had been used and taken advantage of enough back in Paris, she had spent her whole life struggling to escape the side effects of her parentage. To deal with the things she inherited.

The obsessiveness, the way she was so quick to get attached. She knew she inherited that from her mom. But there was also the rage, the anger that Marinette constantly had to stuff down. Hide below the surface before it hurt someone. Keep under a tight reign and hide away in the back of her mind, her own dirty little secret.

The constant reminder of just who her biological father was. Because that anger, that viciousness, could only have come from him.

She had spent her whole life trying to carve herself her own identity, to create beauty with the chaotic elements she got from her blood. And she couldn’t blame her mother, not really. Her mother at least did her best to help, and always leant an empathetic ear when Marinette needed it. But Joker?

Oh, she could, and would, blame him even long after he was dead and gone. Because he was the one who hurt her mother, he was the one who twisted her and drove her to feel unfit to be a parent. And sometimes, Marinette thought it would be better if Joker never existed. Sure, that meant she never would have been born. But wouldn’t that have been easier, too? To not ever have to experience the struggle that came with being his daughter, a title she never consented to?

But she couldn’t change the past. She was alive, and she would use her life to spite everything that the Joker stood for. That would be her revenge. He wanted a toy?

Joker had been monologuing, but Marinette drowned it all out as she kept her periphery vision on the windows above her. Shadows moved out there, with familiar bright yellows and shadowy blacks. The bats were there. She just needed to stall.

She opened her mouth. Joker pulled a lever.

Marinette dropped.

Wire whizzed through the air, knocking the breath out of Marinette as it wound around her torso. She was barely able to piece together what was happening; one of the bats shot a human-safe grapple to try and pull her away from the acid.

But the chain and her restraints were stronger, heavier, and just dragged the grapple down with her body.

The impact sent a large wave of sickly green liquid surging over the side of the vat, and Marinette was dragged from view underneath the surface.

It burned.

She distantly felt the tape around her ankles peel itself away from her skin, the combination of acid and wetness rendering it useless. She felt the chemicals burning at her, sending painful tingles across every last inch of her skin. It got in her mouth, she didn’t have any breath in her to hold and ended up swallowing some. It seared her throat and created a river of lava inside her. It hurt.

It hurt so bad, she just wanted out. Out. Out. Out!

Someone pull her out now!

The zip tie around her wrist loosened enough for her to pull herself free, right as something heavy slammed into the heavy metal bowl. The entire container sloshed, slamming to fall onto its side. Marinette’s body was pulled alongside the rush of liquid as it flowed out, and she was able to breathe air again. Sweet, cooling air.

And then she hacked up acid, spitting and spewing it in an attempt to purge every last drop she had accidentally ingested. Like a cat choking on a hairball, she coughed and hacked and her chest convulsed and contracted to try and help her. Her ribs ached, she figured that the grapple that had tried to save her had ended up fracturing or breaking a rib or two. But all she cared about was breathing and getting rid of the chemicals she had inhaled. She needed it out. All of it. Out. Out. Out of her!

“Try to take a deep breath,” a gruff voice commanded, soft but solid. Something stable for her to cling to. So she did as it asked, forcing herself to stop hacking and instead focus on inhaling. As slowly as she could. It was difficult, the first few breaths cut themselves off with more involuntary coughing, but the owner of the gruff voice stayed nearby. Repeated it’s request. “Deep breath. Steady, now. In. Out. Good.”

Marinette was just starting to calm down, just starting to claw herself out of the haze of panic and adrenaline, when that wretched laugh cut through the air again.

“There you are! Heheheheh! My cute little Marionette!”

Marinette froze. She could barely think, barely understand her own emotions. But she knew she was different now. She knew there was no way back, he had taken it from her. He had taken her normality, he had taken all of her years of hard work and burned them right in front of her.

He had won. The bats hadn’t been fast enough. But, if her foggy mind was correct, Batman was the one trying to bring her back to lucidity. Batman was the one trying to help her get air back in her lungs.

Not her so-called father.

If he wanted a toy, she’d be a haunted doll. She’d harass him, haunt him, until he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d come back, like a possessed porcelain doll refusing to be thrown away. She would make him regret ever awakening the monster that she had spent so long forcing down. Because she was her father’s daughter, yes. But she was also her mother’s daughter.

And most importantly, she was Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Her own damned person. The Chosen wielder of the Creation miraculous. And she would never bow down and be used by anyone, ever again.

Tikki’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind. Resounded even louder than Joker’s laughter;

“That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good.”

And wasn’t that everything Marinette had ever done? It was a part of her now. Like a tattoo she had inked into her very soul.

She took the chaos she was given, and turned it into something beautiful. And right now? Right now, the most beautiful thing she could think of was Joker’s face when she slammed her fist into it.

“Easy,” Batman repeated, but for a different reason now. Marinette’s lungs still stuttered a little, but her breathing was mostly under control. Now, he was saying it because Marinette was forcing herself to her feet. Her legs trembled under her, threatening to lay her out on the floor again. But she was every bit as stubborn as Joker, which made for a terrifying combination with her all-consuming fury. The acid had broken the mental chains Marinette had been using to hold it back, and now it burned fierce and bright in her eyes.

So Marinette kept herself up right, cognizant of Batman’s hand on her shoulder but ignoring it. She grit her teeth against the burning light of the room, everything suddenly too bright and colorful. Too vibrant. But it did little to distract her. She realized that one of her hands still gripped the heavy chain that had sent her drowning in the acid, and sent a snarl at her darling, jackass of a father as she whipped it out right towards him.

“Marinette!” Batman yelled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. But he didn’t pull her back, which spoke louder than any words he could have said to her right then. He wouldn’t save Joker from his daughter, he knew the man deserved at least this much pain. And sure enough, the metal links slammed right into Joker’s side, winding around him like a crushing whip.

But that was all Marinette had the strength to do. As soon as she saw Joker’s body hit the floor, writhing in agony and painfully loud cackles, her hand let go of the chain and her body tumbled down. Batman caught her.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, get Joker back to Arkham,” Batman’s order faded in and out of focus. Now that her most pressing desire was taken care of, the effects of the acid reared their ugly heads with renewed ferocity. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her thoughts echoed in her head like voices wrestling for supremacy. “Robin, Black Bat, stay on alert. Harley said that she’s incredibly trained,” he warned his partners. Marinette didn’t begrudge him, the only other two people who had survived being dunked into those chemicals hadn’t exactly treated him with kindness and pacifism. But she could barely focus on them anyway, too distracted by trying to reign in the chaos in her mind.

But Joker would never stay silent, even as he was dragged away in chains.

“Hehehahahahaha! Paper white, paper white!” He jeered cheerfully. “That’s my girl! Violent just like Papa!” Red hood knocked him out with a harsh punch to the side of his neck before he could say another word. But it was enough— enough for Marinette to gasp in realization.

Her skin. It was paper white, just like his. Not even Harley’s skin had been bleached like the Joker’s after her dip in the acid. That had always been makeup. Her mom had a healthy, peachy complexion like anyone else. A complexion Marinette had shared— until now. Now, she was unhealthily pale. Just like him.

A painful screech tore itself from her already raw throat, and Marinette’s fingernails immediately began to tear at her own skin. Red. Red was better than white— she didn’t want to look like him. She couldn’t. White was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Marinette! Stop!” Strong hands clamped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from herself even as she wriggled and tried to keep clawing at herself.

“No! No no no!” Marinette howled. “I don’t wanna look like him! I don’t wanna be like him!” She managed to get one hand free and immediately tried to tear away at her face. Batman was able to wrestle her arm away before she could do any damage besides a few angry red lines. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” She shook her head, not feeling as tears flung themselves off her cheeks.

“Okay,” Batman’s voice was solid again, soft and grumbly and stable. She grabbed at it again, drawn to anything that might help bring her stability. She needed his unflappable attitude right then, and he probably didn’t even realize how badly. “That’s good. But you don’t need to rip your skin off to do that, you know that right?”

Marinette hiccuped, finally sinking down to sob as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down over the chaos of deafening light and blinding sound that continued to jumble around inside her head. “He changed me,” she choked out. Batman nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He did.”

“Th-that f-fucking bastard,” Marinette managed a sad chuckle before devolving right back into sobs. “I wo-worked so h-hard. N-never hurt any-anybody. Never… never yelled. Ne-never hit… Not people who didn’t attack f-first.”

“I know. Your mom told me,” he confirmed calmly. Solid, tethering. Marinette swallowed another gulp of air, trying to calm down. But everything was too much.

“Mom!” She suddenly realized out loud, turning and grabbing at Batman’s chest, clinging to his uniform. She didn’t even care that she almost sliced herself on a batarang, she clung to him desperately with wide, crazed eyes. “G-get Mom and… and Ivy! They… they can help. They know—“ Marinette paused to breathe, then resumed. “Momma Ivy— she gave me—gave me a diluted… th-thingy, years ago, I can’t remember—“ Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get her mind to calm down. To work.

“The serum she gave Harley?” He asked. “The one that made her immune to poisons, and gave her increased physical abilities?”

“That!” Marinette agreed frantically, nodding. “I was too— too little, to give the real thing, so she diluted it,” she swallowed her spit and winced when it burned her throat. “It… I think it’s helping with the—the—the—“

“The chemical’s effects?” Batman suddenly sounded like he was paying much more attention than before, his shoulders a little straighter at her explanation. “You think it’s slowing down or numbing what it did to your mom and Joker?” Marinette couldn’t talk anymore, it hurt too much. Everything hurt too much, so she just nodded. “Good. That’s good, Marinette. Robin! Get Harley and Ivy down here, now!”

That was when the voices started. Sometime during the ten minutes it took to get her Mom and Ivy to her, they had apparently been waiting nearby anxiously incase the Bats had needed backup, the voices had built from ominous whispers to devious shouts, ordering her to do things like slam her elbow into Batman’s throat or see what happened if she splashed Robin with some of the acid that was still on the ground.

Her body didn’t move. She kept herself carefully still, focusing on ignoring her impulse to listen to one of the voices. She was still lucid enough to know that she would regret it if she did any of that. That the Bats were more on her side than any of the voices or the Joker were. But it was growing painful, and Harley and Ivy walked in to Batman trying to keep Marinette from hitting her own head. She had devolved to trying to knock herself out to get the voices to be quiet.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” She was clearly talking to herself, her eyes screwed shut as she continued to try and hit her head. Harley gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes watering at the sight. This was something she had hoped she would never see.

“Harls,” Ivy spoke softly, putting a gentle arm around her wife’s back in support. It hurt Ivy to see Marinette in so much agony, but she knew it pained Harley even more. And much more personally. “Come on. We can help.”

“Y-you’re right,” Harley agreed shakily, taking a deep breath to try and compose herself before they both approached their daughter. Batman didn’t let go of Marinette, but did lean out of the way to give them access to her.

“Honeycake?” Harley called out softly, a little unsure how the chemicals were affecting her baby’s personality right then. The first few days were going to be the worst, and she knew that. The Dunk never took it easy on it’s victims. Marinette gasped, stopping her muttering and raising her head to look at Harley with wide eyes.

“Momma?”

Harley had to swallow heavily to shove back the sob that wanted to bubble up out of her. She had to be strong for her baby. She couldn’t break yet. But Marinette hadn’t called her Momma since she was little, now she called Pamela ‘Momma Ivy’ and her just ‘Mom’.

“It’s me, sugarplum,” she assured her daughter, kneeling down and cupping one of Marinette’s cheeks in her palm. And that was when she noticed it, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. But Marinette’s senses were so sensitive that she noticed it right away, and stiffened.

“Wh-what is it?” She grew frantic when Harley didn’t immediately respond, only winced in sympathy. Marinette knew that wasn’t good. “Mom? What is it? What did he do? What else did he do to me?”

“Darling,” Harley started, licking her lips nervously. “My sweet baby girl, your right eye… it’s green now, sugar.”

Marinette’s world froze. She tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and disbelieving. “No,” she somehow managed to breathe. “No, mom, I have your eyes. Your blue eyes. I love your eyes,” Her voice steadily got more and more panicked as she went on, not wanting to accept what her mother was clearly seeing. She watched as Harley’s face broke a little, a few tears escaping before the older woman could stop them. Marinette shook her head again, slipping her tiny wrist out of Batman’s hold and raising it to her eye. “No. It’s one of his tricks. He—he must have slipped a contact in my eye when I was passed out, that’s— that’s— that’s all—“ but her fingertip met her normal eye. No contact to be felt. Marinette’s hand fell into her lap limply. The room was absolutely silent as everyone gave her a few seconds to process just how much she had been changed, entirely against her will. She opened and closed her mouth, not sure whether she wanted to yell or curse or cry. Instead, her voice just came out in a very tiny, broken:

“...fuck.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had gone mostly mute. She would say a word here or there, but for the most part she was doing a good impression of a vegetable. She stayed silent, as still as possible, and just stared at the ceiling of her hospital room.

She had been like that for the past two weeks they had been monitoring her in the Acid’s aftermath. Her ribs, which had turned out to only be bruised thankfully enough, had healed. Her cheek and torso were healed up too, only the barest hint of sickly yellow to show as a reminder of Joker’s hits on her. Sometimes the cameras would catch her talking to seemingly empty air, only for a nurse to rush in and see that Marinette had gone silent yet again.

Tikki was doing her best to help. She had been separated from Marinette, but Pamela had found Marinette’s purse and returned it— and subsequently Tikki— when they had gotten her to the hospital. She was the only person Marinette regularly spoke to, because Marinette knew Tikki understood. Tikki had been around since the Big Bang, she had seen worse things than a little insanity. Tikki had always been there to help her feel at ease with her mind and body. She shared a piece of Tikki’s soul, even, according to the tiny god.

But talking to anyone else was too hard. Too scary. She still had those damned voices at war in her mind, trying to convince her to do things that made her lock her joints and keep her body absolutely still before she acted on any of the coaxes. Possibilities she had never considered before came startlingly easy to her mind now— like how it would only take two seconds to tear her IV out and stab it into her nurse’s eye. How she could use her blanket to strangle Momma Ivy, or how she could fake jumping out the window and Harley wouldn’t waste a second trying to save her.

They were horrible thoughts. Intrusive, ugly, and far too loud. She didn’t want to act on any of them, but sometimes she found her fingers twitching only a second before she could follow through on one.

She spent a lot of time meditating, because of it. Which is why most people thought she was ignoring them. She didn’t mean to, she just needed to meditate. It was like her brain was a giant room filled with filing cabinets that held her thoughts and emotions. Her whole life, Marinette had carefully kept this room alphabetized, organized, and neat. Every file in its correct drawer. Until Joker had come along, and ripped the entire place apart. Tore certain files in half, broke her cabinets, ruined her filing system. And now she had to put the room back together, one drawer and piece of paper at a time.

That’s what the meditation was doing. She was getting reacquainted with herself. Learning what had changed in her mind and trying to adjust. She couldn’t be the old Marinette anymore, but she’d be damned if she let the Joker turn her into someone ugly like him.

So she needed time.

One day, towards the end of those two weeks, she got a visitor slipping through her window. Considering her room was on the tenth floor, she had it pretty narrowed down as to who it could be. Batman had visited her every night, a silent shadow in the corner, but he had already left for the day so it couldn’t be him. None of the other bats had dropped by after the second day.

She turned her head to see that that was now changed; Red Hood sat on her windowsill with one leg inside the room and the other bent on the sill itself. He looked the very picture of comfort despite being a stiff wind (or quick shove— no, bad brain) away from falling to his death. And then Hood took off his helmet, which was ugly enough to inspire some of the more violent suggestions in her brain and make them seem appealing.

“Ya know. Red Hood used to be what Joker called himself,” were the first words out of the vigilante’s mouth. Marinette’s eyebrows pulled down, and it was clear she was confused (and a little angry) at what he told her. He grinned, his eyes still hidden by the domino mask on his face. “Eh. The bastard killed me, ya know. I was the second Robin, a lifetime ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, and the violent voices dimmed and seemed to grow muffled. Marinette couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell her anymore, which made her figure that she had better pay attention to what Hood had to say. She licked her dry lips, and spoke softly. Her throat was still damaged from the acid, so she couldn’t speak very loudly yet.

“Then how are you… you know, here?”

The man chuckled. “Another group of assholes happens to have a magic pit in their basement. It’s a glowing green lake, ten different types of bad news. But it brings people back to life, and they dunked me in it without even caring for a second if I even wanted to come back.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed all on their own. It seemed to sink into her brain all at once, a simple:

Oh. He gets it.

“I guess the water doesn’t take it easy on your brain, either?” She hazarded an educated guess. He laughed, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I went off the deep end for a while, and killed a lotta people. They deserved it at least, but I don’t like how violent I was back then. Before I learned how to cope. Attacked people who were innocent. Red Robin almost died when I attacked him, back then, when he was just Robin.”

“Then why’d you keep calling yourself Red Hood?” She asked, tilting her head. He finally turned his head to look straight at her instead of just staring out the window. His grin widened, but it was lopsided. The grin of someone who was healed from some serious shit, but knew that it would always ache. A bittersweet expression.

“Cuz he doesn’t own that name. I made it into something that stands for at least a little good. Something that scares the assholes who don’t care about killing or abusing innocent people. Hell, some people take comfort in the name Red Hood now. And you know what that means?”

Marinette shook her head, and his grin widened into a shark-like smile.

“It means I stole it from him. The name Red Hood. He’ll never use it again, and now it stands for the opposite of anything he’d agree with. You can do that too, you know. Find something to steal from him, or use something he gave you, and make it your own.”

“Turn the chaos into something good,” Marinette said dreamily, clearly quoting someone. Red Hood nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not gonna be easy, but you got the choice here. You ain’t going back to who you used to be, but you can take the victory away from him.”

“... make him regret ever dunking me in that stupid vat,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as they filled with determination for the first time since her body hit the acid. “He wants a puppet, an obedient little doll, I’ll give him Annabel.”

“There ya go,” The vigilante slid off the windowsill and approached her bed, holding out his hand for a shake. “I can help you get to that. What do ya say?”

Marinette was silent for a long minute, staring straight into his masked eyes. And then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I got one question, Red Hood.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about black cats?”

—*—*—*—*—*

This took four hours, holy hell. I’m actually happy with how this turned out. What do you guys think? I even got to max length on Tumblr 😂

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #jasonette #bio!dad joker #bio!mom harley quinn #Poison Ivy x Marinette #platonic brucinette

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airi-p4 · 4 years ago

Text

Miraculous escape - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

I wasn’t planning to post this yet, but it’s Lukadrien June and today prompt is ‘escape’ and, even if it’s only Lukadrien friendship (bc it’s Lukanette & Adrigami endgame), it fit so well that I couldn’t stop myself from posting this. Chapter 1 and the final chapter have been finished for months, but I don’t know when I’m going to continue with the rest...

This fic is based / inspired by Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Some like it hot’ film.

Thank you @alittleshycat for the header and wanted posters pic! ( I hope you’re doing well... I miss you... 🥺💙 )

Thank you @brickercupmasterx3 for proofreading! 💙

Summary:

Luka helps Adrien escape from his prison-like house and his strict father but Gabriel Agreste is not planning to let them go away easily. They become fugitives and ask Juleka for help, who offers them a very unconventional escape plan: joining a girl band/orchestra to flee the country.

Easier said than done, especially when they find something unexpected in that band: the two most beautiful women they've ever seen.

Warning: includes art

AO3

_________________________

Chapter 1: Fugitives

"My father is going to kill me."

"Your father is going to kill us."

One carrying a guitar on his back, and the other a piano keyboard case on his hand, two musicians were being chased by multiple cars around Paris. Turning corners, going up and downstairs, hiding behind trash containers and cars, the chase seemed far from an end anytime soon. Panting for air, the pair continued running after they turned the corner, just in time not to be seen- a close call. The loud sirens never seemed to stop, coming from all directions.

"I can't believe I finally escaped from home!", the young blond man exclaimed excitedly. "Thanks, Luka. I wouldn't have made it without your help. You're a real friend."

"Don't mention it, Adrien. That's what friends are for, right?", the blue haired man laughed and patted his back. "It would have been perfect if we hadn't broken half of your father's statue collection while escaping your bodyguards, though. Now he's gonna kill us for sure. We can't let them catch us!"

"We need to run away from Paris. And fast! My father is the devil itself! You don't want to know..."

"I don't!"

Jumping down a wall, and turning another corner, the two friends hid in the back of a funeral car and waited until the police sirens got further away. They had been scolded for being disrespectful with the dead, but it was worth it: they were safe- at least for now.

"We need to leave the city and find a place to stay. Knowing your father, he must have all stations, roads and airports under his control." Luka said, stopping Adrien from crossing the street to firstly check their surroundings.

"How are we going to do it? Our car became 'inoperative' during the chase and our friends and family must be monitored!"

Adrien's panic made Luka grab his shoulders to reassure him of their plans.

"No, look. They know you, but they don't know much about me. Not many people know I have a sister who lives here, in Paris."

"You do?"

"Yes. We need to make it to her apartment and then we’ll figure out how to proceed. Are you ready to run again?"

"More than ready. I'm excited!" Adrien grinned back at Luka, feeling an adrenaline rush.

"Let's go!"

__________________

When Juleka opened the door of her apartment, she wasn't expecting to meet her dumbass older brother and Adrien Agreste, the young man who had been on the news non-stop for the last two hours. She raised one eyebrow and Luka knew she was looking for a reason not to shut the door on their faces.

"Juleka! We need your help! We have to get out of the city. Could you lend us your car?"

"What the heck is wrong with you!? It's been two years and that's all you have to say? What kind of trouble are you involved in now? This flower boy has been in the news for hours! They are even offering a reward for whoever finds him! And one for you! A dead or alive one in your case! They're saying you kidnapped him! So you better have a good explanation or I'm kicking you out."

"I do, I do! Listen: remember dad? I know you were little, but do you remember what being trapped is? That's this man's, Adrien's, everyday life for you. I couldn't bear to see my friend like that anymore so I offered to help him escape" Juleka's eyebrow sank deeper towards her nose, meaning Luka knew that wasn't good news. "I had to help him get his freedom! Can you believe he has never had a burger? Or been to a drive through? He can't even drive a car! He literally crashed my car at a streetlight after mistaking the gas and brake pedals! Have some compassion and help us escape Paris. Please?" he finished, pleadingly.

Juleka's eyes moved to analyze Adrien before answering: blond rich guy, well dressed and innocent looking. The way he was trying to figure out her front door and how his green eyes curiously examined his surroundings made him look like a playful cat, and Juleka had no doubt that he was as dumb, or probably dumber, than her older brother. Which meant Jukeka wanted them out, but also that she couldn't refuse to help- otherwise they would surely not make it out alive.

"Fine. What do you need?" She resigned.

"A car or anything that takes us away from Paris! No, better! Out of the country!"

Adrien was still examining Juleka's old and untidy room when she noticed his eyes paused on a paper on the table. She knew that paper: a girl band/orchestra called "Miraculous" was looking to recruit experienced musicians to perform around Italy for three weeks. Suddenly, she knew what to do.

"Join that girl band, the one in the pamphlet", Juleka suggested, pointing at said paper.

"What? A girl band? We're men, Jules! We can't join a girl band!"

"Luka is right!" Adrien quickly agreed.

"No, it can be done. I'm good with makeup and I'm tall enough for my clothes to fit Adrien. We can use some of Mom's clothes for you. ‘Old style’. Oh, and I have some wigs too.” Juleka continued. "Can this blondie play any instrument?"

"Well, yes. He's a pianist," Luka answered.

"Perfect! I'll find a way for you to cover for the pianist and the guitarist of the band: Chloe and Lila. Nobody likes them anyway, and the band members probably don't even remember their faces well, since they joined recently. Nobody will miss them. And it's perfect that you're blond, just like Chloe. I have the perfect wig for you"

Juleka disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a pair of scissors, two wigs and a box of makeup- oh, and wax. The two male friends could feel cold sweat down their backs.

"Wow, you have such a pretty face!" Juleka exclaimed, taking a closer look at Adrien's facial features. "I'll cut your bangs a bit so they don't show under your wig. Luka: do yourself a favor and go shave meanwhile."

"Are you serious about this, Jules?" Luka asked, moving towards the bathroom sink.

"Of course I am", she glared confidently at him. "Do you want to flee the country or not? I'm getting you out, but you need to trust me."

"Is this really necessary…?" Adrien asked in a trembling voice, seeing how Juleka's scissors were close to his eyes as she was cutting his long bangs.

"It definitely is! The band orchestra is leaving midday tomorrow and we have a lot to do!" Juleka ordered. "I can't wait to wax those hairy legs of yours" she murmured. Adrien could only gasp in fear.

When Juleka finished, she was proud of her results. The disguises were perfect: a long blond wig on Adrien, tied as a long braid, his big green eyes standing out with the mascara on his lashes, and he had pink colored cheeks and cherry lips. His face and hair were perfectly complemented by a white dress to his knees and a short jacket over his shoulders, covering his strong forearms. He also used some pads to simulate not very large breasts. The final touch was a pair of elegant high-heels with diamond looking glass studs on them. He looked beautiful, prettier than many women. So pretty the Couffaine siblings blushed a little at the sight.

As for Luka… well, he was tall, big and manly, and with sharp features: definitely not easy to pass him as a woman. But Juleka was almost a professional and she did an incredible job. He had his hair cut short so his blue hair didn't show under the long dark haired wig - good for covering his wide muscular back. He was advised to wear a hat and sunglasses most of the time, but he was also wearing lots of makeup. Using a full palette of skin tones, Juleka managed to hide his strong jawline and make his cheekbones, chin and nose look smaller and rounder. He wore black eyeshadow and mascara, brownish red lipstick and natural blush. He looked like an unfeminine lady but that could pass as genetics, right? People would maybe look away, but they would understand. As for his clothes: he wore a long wide purple dress tied with a belt and some brown pirate-like high boots (the only ones that would fit him because they belonged to himself). The bottom half of his outfit was complemented by a grey knit poncho. His fake breasts were bigger than Adrien's and he wore a wine red scarf to cover his neck- especially his pronounced adam's apple. He looked… pretty good, considering the base product. And that alone was an amazing accomplishment.

"You're perfect. Ready to go. I've packed a pair of party dresses too. You'll need them for your performances" Juleka said, admiring her amazing work. "Oh, and just so you know. I'm also part of the band, so I'm coming too."

Later that night, just before sunrise, Juleka sneaked to Chloe and Lila's apartment to steal their accreditations and sent them fake cards about the train being delayed so they wouldn't appear at the last moment and ruin everything. Juleka smirked victoriously for having at last taken her revenge on the two women she hated the most.

___________________________________________

After nervously passing the first frontier of the train station- the ticket man, Luka and Adrien, who were disguised as women, moved towards the platform, happy for not having been recognized after the first control. Adrien had trouble walking in heels, so Luka lent him his arm to help him keep his balance.

"Remember: your name is Chloe now, and my name is Lila", Luka reminded his friend as they walked towards the train platform.

"I don't like those names", Adrien complained.

"I don't like them either, but it’s better that we don't stand out". Luka sighed.

Grabbing their baggage and instruments, the two men approached the train car written on the ticket. They were stopped before they could get on the train- just next to one of their 'wanted' posters. The two men didn't notice it, but Juleka did and rushed them to get on the train fast.

"Hey, who are you?" Asked a middle aged woman, the one in charge of the band, they assumed. "I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"I- I'm Adri- My name is Noirette”, Adrien said, receiving equally surprised and annoyed glares from both Luka and Juleka. Before Luka could speak, Adrien continued. “And she's Lucia. We're the new pianist and guitarist of the band".

‘What. the. heck?’ Luka couldn’t believe his friend as he stared at him in annoyance and shock. His high pitched voice acting was hurting Luka's ears too. 'We're dead', he thought.

The middle aged woman showed orchestra at Adrien’s words: she clearly didn’t like last minute changes. Scanning them under her glasses, she questioned them again. "What happened to Miss Chloe Bourgeois and Miss Lila Rossi?"

While the two men were taking too much to come up with an excuse, Juleka, who was sick of their bad acting, stepped into the conversation.

"The talent agency sent them somewhere else. These two are here to fill in for them."

Still unconvinced, she raised her glasses. "Hmmm... you know them, Juleka?"

"They come from the same talent agency as me", Luka’s sister confidently said.

"Hmmm... that should be enough then..." It seemed like she was convinced at last and the two men could finally breathe. “I'm the band's director. You can call me Madam Mendeleiev. And that man over there is Mister Damocles, the manager. You can introduce yourselves later. Go to your seats now.” Before they could take a first step, the middle aged woman stopped them again and called for someone. "Yves! Come here and carry these ladies’ instruments to the train! Be useful for once!"

Luka and Adrien exchanged looks when a young blond man approached them quickly. "Yes, Madam!" He shouted, approaching the disguised men to get their instruments. He stopped in front of them, intensely staring at Luka’s pupils before trying to complete his job.

"Oh. Hello, there. XY at your service! Can I help you, beautiful? Fancy a drink sometime?" He raised his eyebrows twice, shamelessly flirting.

Luka's face went white in disgust. Juleka's chuckle and Adrien's big eyes made him snap out of it.

"Oh, Just carry this, thank you!" Luka answered, annoyed, as he shoved his and Adrien’s instruments and suitcases into XY’s arms, making the blond man lose balance from the pile of weight on his arms. “And take good care of them because they’re… fragile”

"A- As you wish, beauti- Ah!…" He stumbled, losing his balance and almost falling down. “But later that drink-”

"Yves!! Stop the crap and do your job!" Mendeleiev scolded him.

"Yes, Madam!" He straightened his back. "See you around", he winked at Luka before leaving, having trouble walking properly. The guitarist could feel shivers all over his body, while Juleka snorted, having real trouble trying to hold her laugh in.

"C'mon, hurry up!" Juleka pressured them, adding in a whisper "you better not expose yourselves before leaving."

"Thank you for saving us, Juleka." Luka whispered to her ear while getting on the train.

"You better stop acting stupid if you don't want to get caught!" Her response showed her annoyance and the men gulped in response.

The seats were arranged in pairs, so the two fugitives could sit together and relax a bit. They were also grateful for the lack of contact needed with the rest of the band.

The ‘Miraculous band’ was a dancing orchestra. Similar to a big band, but with vocals, a spectacular stage and completely fine for all ages to enjoy. In this case, its main particularity was how it was formed only by women. The band formation included: a rhythmic section (electric bass, electric guitar, drums and electronic piano), a wind section (saxophones, trumpets and trombones) and two singers. Many of the members were usually multi-disciplined in those bands, which meant they could play more than one instrument, just like Luka with the Lyre. Some of the side instruments were the violin, the flute, the maracas or the tambourine. Another particularity of these kinds of bands was the big range of styles in their repertoire: from rock and popular national or international hits to swings, waltz, salsa- anything that could be danced to.

If it weren't for the all girls' rule, Adrien and Luka wouldn't have minded joining them for real. But they had something more important to think about now- running for their lives.

"Is everyone here?", Mendeleiev asked, standing at the train car passage.

"Marinette and Kagami are not here yet, Madam" A dark skinned, red haired lady pointed out.

"Those two again… if they weren't so talented and popular I would have fired them already!"

"There they come!' A small blond short-haired lady screamed, startling Juleka in the process. "Sorry! I didn't want to startle you. My name is Rose" she introduced herself.

"Juleka…" and that's all she could say as she lost herself in that petit woman's eyes.

"What do you play?", the little woman innocently asked. "I play the trombone!"

"The electric bass…" she answered, hiding her blush. ‘Cute, sweet and with lungs of steel?’ Juleka gulped. ‘I’m screwed’.

"Finally!" Madam Mendeleiev said, as the ladies arrived, panting from their run there. "You're late! Go to your seats quickly!"

The two ladies who got in the train, bowed their heads in apology for their tardiness, as they walked to the empty seats of the back of the car. And when their faces looked up for a moment, it was the exact moment Adrien and Luka reached heaven. Their eyes couldn't stop staring at the most beautiful ladies they had ever seen, following them with their eyes and faces as they passed just beside them, moving to sit a few rows to the back. They couldn't take their eyes off them until Juleka called for their attention, warning for their discretion. But it was too late: the boys had lovestruck grins on their faces that didn't plan to go away anytime soon.

The two ladies had black hair and asian features. The short haired one was taller, had brown eyes and wore a beautiful white blazer with a red skirt. She looked elegant and confident, while the other woman looked cute, clumsy and innocent, and was shorter. She had blue eyes and dressed in a pink coat. Her hair was long and tied in two curly twin-tails. Their beauty stood out even more when they were together.

When the train started moving, Madam Mendeleiev gave the girl band some instructions- something Luka and Adrien would ask Juleka what it was about later. Later, Rose suggested an introduction game for the new members after the explanation had ended. The ladies excitedly agreed.

"I start!" said the same blond girl. "My name is Rose Lavillant and I play the trombone! I studied at a conservatoire in Paris for 3 years before joining this band recently. I like pink and unicorns and my favorite food is strawberry shortcake. Nice to meet you!"

After a round of applause, Rose signaled Juleka to continue, and she passively proceeded. "I'm Juleka. Bassist. Nice to meet you"

Next to continue was the red-haired woman from earlier, Alya, flautist and trumpeter; the drummer, Mylene; another trumpeter, Alix; and one of the saxophonists, Sabrina. It was Adrien's turn next.

"Hello!" He started, with his high-pitched voice. "My name is Ad-" he paused for a second at Juleka's deathly glare, gulping once before continuing. "My name is Noirette. I play the piano! I'm from Paris Classical School and I'm very pleased to meet you all!" He squealed, moving his arms along.

Adrien's excitement for freedom and new experiences was contagious to the rest of the ladies who energetically (almost hysterically) responded "Nice to meet you too, Noirette!".

It was Luka's turn next. He gulped, nervous, and with his fake high pitched voice and under Juleka's death stare, he started.

"Hi... My name is Lu- Lucia". 'I'm killing Adrien for giving me that name' he thought. "I play the guitar. Nice to meet you"

With their introductions over, Juleka finally relaxed. The rest of the ladies' introductions followed but, to be honest, neither Luka nor Adrien were listening: they were just patiently waiting to know more about the ladies that captivated their hearts. Their turn finally arrived, and the short haired one started:

"Hello. My name is Kagami. I sing and play the violin. I've been in the band for a few weeks. My favorite color is red and my favorite food is katsudon. Nice to meet you" a silence followed Kagami's introduction, so she called for her partner's attention with her elbow. "Marinette, your turn!"

"Oh-! Sorry… I was distracted… He-ello… My name is Ma- Ma- Marinette! I'm a singer but I can also play side instruments like the tambourine, the maracas or the castanets. I've been in this band for a few weeks and I studied in Paris Music School. My favorite color is pink and my favorite food is macarons. It's nice to meet you-", she ended with a nervous high-pitched voice.

Luka and Adrien exchanged excited lovestruck grins: the ladies' names and voices were just as beautiful as their faces. They were going to enjoy their outing with the band better than they could have expected.

______________________________

When the car got loud from the ladies chit-chat, Luka and Adrien found their moment of peace to share their thoughts.

“Luka, did you see that?” Adrien started, signaling at the end of the car, towards the singers of the band.

“Yes…I saw.” Luka answered, with a lovestruck grin on his face.

“That beautiful face…”, Adrien continued.

“Sweet voice…”, Luka added.

“Asian features…”, their mumbles continued.

“Dazzling eyes…”

“Dark shiny silky hair…”

The two men reacted at their exchanged words and looked at each other, surprised and nervous. Adrien gulped, worried.

“Wait- who are you talking about?”

“Who are YOU talking about?” Luka threw his question back at him, slightly aggressively.

“That girl, Kagami, of course!” Adrien exclaimed as if it was the most obvious response.

“Oh, that's good. I was talking about Marinette.” Luka sighed and showed him a relieved smile.

“Oh...” Adrien blinked, sighing and smiling in relief too. “I'm glad we weren't talking about the same girl. I wouldn't have liked to steal a girl from you.”

“What makes you think I wouldn't win her over you?”, Luka confidently grinned.

“Oh- anyway- It's better this way.”

The two men laughed together, trying not to be too loud for their manly voices to destroy their cover-ups.

“Will you help me with Kagami?” Adrien asked his friend.

“Only if you help me with Marinette.” said Luka, offering him a handshake he excitedly returned.

“Count on it, my friend!”

#my fic #fic: miraculous escape #lukanette fic #adrigami fic #my art #airipyon #airip4 #lukadrien friendship #endgame lukanette #sorry for the ugly art #It's OLD and I cringe #but you get the overall idea I guess?#silly comedy #This idea was from last year OMG #Idk when I'm going to continue it but I hope I will...#I'm super slow to finish my WIPs...

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beepboop358 · 3 years ago

Note

I saw an anon on here ask why others may not know if Will was a subject in the lab. My personal belief or Hc for this theory is that Lonnie made an arrangement or deal with Brenner before/during/shortly after Will’s birth; maybe he physically took him to the lab without Joyce to be experimented on, etc. Maybe Joyce was part of the MK Ultra experiments, or maybe was a target for a different reason (she seems to have unnaturally good instincts) and that caught Brenner’s eye. Lonnie has shown to 1. Not care about Will and 2. Be willing to exploit his own children for financial gain, so I believe it’s possible, but obviously there’s so many holes in this and it’s just a head canon that can be played with. Will also really doesn’t like doctors in season 2; which can be because of his healing process after being rescued, or just typical childhood fears; but if he was a subject for even a short amount of time I’m sure that would fuel his fear. It’s a stretch but think it’d be really interesting and tragic if something similar happened and was a plot twist.

Hi anon!

Ye I remember the post you are referring to! Also these are really interesting theories!!

I have a personal theory about this that I mention in my 1st Victor Creel Theories post, that Joyce is Creel's child. (It would also complete a Star Wars parallel if she is). If Creel got flayed from whatever Upside down monster is in the Creel house, there's his direct connection to the upside down. Since the mom probably died (but we don't see her dead) and the other 2 kids are blonde, Joyce may be Creel's 3rd kid with another woman. And the lab for sure knows about Creel after the murder in the 50's, so Will being Joyce's son gives him a direct connection to the lab and would also explain why they are so interested in him. I personally think there's some kind of a genetic component to supernatural abilities in the show, and that some people are just born with them; basically they are the "special ones" or mutants, like in the x-men. X-men is mentioned several times in the show, and paralleled as well. As far as we know Joyce doesn't have any powers, and neither does Jonathan, but Will does. So how'd he get them? I don't think it was just when he was in the upside down because Will survives 11 days there, how? And he was the only one to survive. If Creel was flayed, and Joyce is his daughter, maybe that's how Will acquired powers? Or Will just is a mutant (like in X-men) and got them independently of it being passed down. And then the 3rd possibility is that Joyce was also in the MK Ultra experiments but I kind of doubt it because Terry has powers, implied to be from the experiments, so then theoretically Joyce would have some powers too but she doesn't seem too. It's all really interesting to think about! Hopefully I'll have some more time soon to really dig into this and look more into powers and genetics.

Will's fear of doctors is actually really interesting so thank you foe mentioning that! I mean no kid wants to go to the doctors, but Will seems really against it at times which makes me wonder about his past with "doctors" ...

Lonnie is a total asshole so I wouldn't put anything past him really. It's possible Lonnie made some kind of deal with Brenner, it gets me thinking about if that is the case, how did Lonnie know Brenner ya know? Does Lonnie have some kind of connection to the lab too?

But Will being in the lab or interacting with people from the lab in his childhood explains how he has that same tiger stuffed animal that El has in the lab and the one Sara has when she "dies" in the lab... (that post here) I really think Will has been in or interacted with people from the lab before the timeline of the show, and that this could be because Joyce has a connection to Creel, who has connection to the upside down and the lab - possibly. (In my 2nd Victor Creel Theories post I talk about my theory that Creel may work for the gov. or the lab)

#st4 theory #st teaser 003/004 #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things 4 theory

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dreadpoetssociety · 4 years ago

Text

Her Over Me

TW: death, verbal fighting

Request: Maybe can you do a Spence x teen! Daughter where Spencer’s new girlfriend is a total ass to y/n and despite her efforts to convince Spencer that she’s extremely harsh, Spencer brushes her off and ignores her until she finally snaps and gets enough of his ignorance, lashing out on him unexpectedly for caring so much for his girlfriend instead of his daughter and she just runs to Garcia’s or JJ’s or smth and spencer finally realizes the truth when his gf asks where the annoying ‘brat’ is? Thank u!

Note: Okay, hopefully this is alright HAH I’ve never written one with Spencer being a dad before, but this was fun. Thank you for the request!!

Pairings:

Spencer Reid x Girlfriend

Spencer Reid x Daughter!Reader

()()()()()()

You never liked your fathers new girlfriend. You weren’t sure what he saw in her, or how he didn’t notice the pure evil that bubbled inside the woman’s veins, considering he was a profiler and a genius and all that. He should’ve noticed her behavior a long time ago.

But alas, he didn’t. As the saying goes, love is blind. You’d tried to bring it up a few times, only to be brushed off, and gave up once you understood he was never going to believe you. The woman was nice to you in front of him, but became someone else when he was gone. You were convinced that if he wasn’t so head over heels for her, he probably would’ve noticed. It was so out of character for him not to, but for a while you didn’t want to ruin his happiness. He hadn’t been interested in anyone since your mom passed away, and even though he pretended to be happy, you had the genetics of a profiler, and just knew he hadn’t been for so long. Not completely, anyway.

When she came home, your mood changed, as though you were putting an extra wall up.

“Y/N, get over here and take these bags. I won’t wait.” she said.

“Alright.” you for the most part just tried to be compliant. You didn’t want any issues, or even worse, punishment, which had happened more than once now due to her incredible lying of ‘Y/N said this, Y/N said that, I think it’s because she doesn’t like me’ blah blah blah. She knew which buttons to push.

“Hurry it up, I have things to do.” she said angrily. You picked up the grocery bags and placed them on the island in the kitchen area. As you did, though, a glass salsa jar fell out and onto the floor, cracking into two pieces. You quickly started picking up the pieces and frantically tried to clean it.

“My God, Y/N! I just bought that! You can’t get anything right, can you? I don’t even understand why Spencer doesn’t just put you up for god damn adoption, you’re such a pain to be around. You owe me three dollars and fifty cents for that, and gas money to go back to the store.” she yelled, “For God sake, if I was your mom, I’d die, too.”

You stopped. You turned so quickly that it would’ve given someone whiplash. This was it. This was the last straw. All those times of her calling you a burden, of her blaming everything on you, trying to get rid of you in any way she could. She doesn’t belong in this family. She’s an outsider. What right does she have mentioning your mother. It hit too close to home, especially since you beat yourself up every day over feeling guilty of your mother’s death, and missing her more than words could even describe. It was your breaking point.

“You know what, Catherine,”

“Catrina” she interrupted.

“Catherine!” you screamed, “You vile, stupid excuse of a woman. Keep my mother out of your slimy, filthy mouth. You don’t have a place in this house.”

“Excuse me? How dare you tell me what to do, you stupid brat! I’ll tell Spencer about how awful you are, and maybe he’ll punish you again.”

“Honestly Caitlin, I don’t give a god damn. Put your own groceries away. In fact-“ you turned around and dropped all the glass piece back to the floor, “you can clean them the hell up, too.” the two of you broke out in a screaming match then, throwing insults back and forth at the top of your lungs.

Eventually, Spencer walked in at some point. You didn’t notice, but Catrina did. Her tone had changed, and she as calmer, and anomy somewhat nicer while you absolutely destroyed her.

“Y/N!” he yelled. You turned around. You’d never heard him yell at you like that before.

“Dad! I swear to you. She is literally so harsh. She treats me like trash! And you just let her! She brought up mo-“

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure it’s you who’s screaming at her. I know you’re upset because you miss your mom, but you can’t throw tantrums like this anymore, Y/N.”

You stopped. Anymore? Tantrums? You had et your father’s girlfriend walk all over you this whole time. All those times she got you in trouble she’d bent the truth dramatically. You hadn’t even yelled at her once until now.

“You’re really going to believe her over your own kid, aren’t you?” you shook your head, “You know what, that’s cool. Do what you want. I’ll do what Cathy has wanted me to do the whole time and see myself out. You know, for some alleged genius and incredible profiler, you’re too easily manipulated. Have fun on date night.”

“Y/N, get back here!”

But it was too late. You’d snatched the keys, walked out and slammed the door. Your eyes were blurry as the apartment elevator closed before Spencer could get to you, and you made your way down to the garage.

You got in the car and just drove. You weren’t sure where your body was taking you, but it was just on autopilot, and you eventually ended up at JJ’s, a coworker of your father’s.

You rang the bell, practically about to pass out from crying so much. JJ answered the door pretty quickly, and her face dropped with incredible amounts of concern that you could almost feel it.

“Y/N, oh my God, what’s going on?”

“Spen- and- a- an-“ you couldn’t even speak. You’d put up with this witch for so long for him, and you were his kid, and he just believed her so easily.

“Okay, hey, hey wait. Come inside, you have to sit down, okay?” JJ helped you in to her living room. The house was seemingly empty, so you assumed Will must’ve taken the kids somewhere. For a few minutes you just cried on her couch while she sat next to you trying to comfort you. Eventually calming down, you began to explain everything from the beginning. The disgusted looks, the insults, the lying, the this, the that, just everything.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, that’s terrible.” JJ said, “Spence really hasn’t said anything about it?”

“No! Literally nothing! He doesn’t even think it’s happening. He doesn’t find it suspicious at all it’s so weird. He gives a damn so much about her that he’ll just like, see past it.” you replied.

“That’s so unlike him.” she said, “Do you want me to talk to him?”

You shook your head, “It’s just cause more problems with his dumb girlfriend. I don’t even care that he has a girlfriend! He thinks that I hate her because I miss my mom, but I hate her because she’s so mean to me all the time when he isn’t around. The only reason I lost it today was because she brought up my mom.”

“Is that why you got angry at her? What’d she say?”

“She literally said that if she were my mom, she’d die, too. Like firstly, who says that? What kind of insult is that? Secondly, who would bring up someone’s literal dead mother in any situation, let alone over a stupid jar?” you asked. JJ shrugged, not knowing what to say. You both talked for a few more hours after that, ignoring every attempt Spencer had tried to call you.

“Y/N, you’re genuinely welcome here any time if you need to get away from that.” she said.

“Thanks, JJ, I honestly might take you up on that.” you smiled. You said your goodbyes and made your way home.

When you walked through the front door of your apartment, you saw the two of them sitting on the couch together. Spencer looked at you, you looked back and just walked into your room as though life was normal. That’s all you could do for now. For the following few days, you spent most of your time at JJ’s. Penelope was there too, every once in a while, and once you told her the story, she almost went to straighten Spencer out herself. Garcia wasn’t the type to get angry, but when she was, it was like the day had just suddenly turned to night it was so dark. But, you convinced her out of it, saying you’d deal with it somehow and that you didn’t want anyone else involved.

Spencer had been waiting for his girlfriend to go out when you mysteriously disappeared for the millionth time this week. She walked in a black body con dress, and her beauty almost mesmerized him.

“Hey,” she smiled. She quickly looked around as her and Spencer got closer, “where’s that annoying little brat?”

And that’s when it finally clicked for him. All of those behaviors he’d picked up on, the way she looked at the top of his head when talking about how you had done something, the way her voice seemed to fluctuate, even just the way she walked around the house. It was almost like a snap back to reality for him, and he regretted ignoring it before. He knew now that you were telling the truth this whole time, and that he’d just looked over you.

“Get out.” he said.

“Spence, what?”

“That’s Dr. Reid for you. Get out of my house. You lied this whole time about Y/N.” his voice was raising, which she’d never seen happen before.

“What? Spence- no, let’s talk this out, you don’t understand!”

“You’re right, I don’t understand. How can I understand someone who treats my kid like nothing and lies about her for no reason? I can understand what you get out of it, a power trip, maybe. Maybe it stems from how you were raised as a child, since you said your mother did the same to you and now you’re doing it unto someone else. So most likely she’s just a surrogate to represent your younger self, correct? You’ve got the same hair color and eye color, so it actually adds up.” he rambled off angrily, but he stopped quickly, “Get out. Take your crap with you. Don’t call me again, we’re done.”

He slammed the door behind her.

When Spencer showed up to JJ’s house, you, Garcia, and JJ fell silent.

“Y/N, can we talk privately?” he asked. Looking at the two other women, they nodded their heads and gestured for you to go. You both walked out to Spencer’s car, getting in, and starting for a drive.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, you were right this whole time.”

“Yeah, I know.” you retorted. He sighed.

“Genuinely, Y/N. Catrina’s gone I kicked her out. I should’ve seen who she really was from the beginning. I noticed all the signs and just went anyway. More importantly I should��ve listened to you.”

You stayed silent. What were you supposed to do in a situation like this? You were still mad at him, but wanted to forgive him.

“I’m genuinely sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you eventually, but I’m pissed about it for now.” you stated.

“Which completely makes sense, you have every right to be.”

“Something that might help your case would be a nice trip to the mall, you know. . . “ you smirked. He laughed. The two of you drove around for about an hour and a half talking things out, and the day ended with you, Spencer, Garcia, and JJ all going out together. Of course, not before Garcia and JJ almost killed him, but once it was somewhat settled, the four of you had a good time, especially with you having the satisfaction of knowing that Catrina was literally kicked out of your house.

#Spencer reid #Dr Spencer Reid #Doctor Spencer Reid #Criminal minds x Reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #JJ #Jennifer Jereau #Penelope Garcia #Garcia #Spencer x daughter reader #daughter reader

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amiramorozova · 3 years ago

Text

Soulmates? pt. 2

Whenever I wanted to go out I had to be with one of them, so that no one suspected anything. I was only nine so I was past the testing age as we walked into Keramzin. Grandmother would hold my hand as we walked. She was taking me into the market while she was doing some shopping. She would smile at me as we walked down the market and we picked out a few things.

"Catalina." A woman said as she approached but I hid behind Grandma scared of strangers as she looked at me but I was mostly hidden. "Who is this with you?" The woman asked

"Anastasita, so good to see you." Grandma said as I kept hold of her hand and she smiled, "this is my granddaughter, Amira. She's a bit shy."

"Your granddaughter? My you don't look a day past twenty, you must tell your secret." Anastasia said and she just claimed good genetics as I realized that Grandma lived in the open but she did not live as a Grisha. Then she looked at me but I was still hiding behind Grandma, I just couldn't take the risk but everyone knew Grisha was able to tell their soulmates that's when I noticed Grandma's necklace, it was a choker necklace to cover the soulmate mark.

Maybe I could get one. I thought

"Amira, you be good for Catalina, ok?" Anastasia said and I nod "Yes, ma'am." I said. We kept walking for a while before grandma saw a person selling chokers and she looked down at me. I looked at her knowing that it was for hiding the soulmate's initials. "Let's get you one." She said

We walked over to the stand as Grandma looked at the stand, seeming to look for a choker necklace that would protect my soulmate mark when it appeared. I looked and noticed one that symbolized a sun summoner as I pointed it out to her. She noticed it too as she looked at it for a while before looking at the merchant.

"How much is the choker necklace?" Grandma Asked

I wasn't paying attention to what Grandma said as I felt that tingling on my neck and covered it quickly. I looked around knowing that it wasn't unusual but this was the market, why would the general be near here? Grandma hadn't noticed but before I knew what was going on she moved my hand and placed it around my neck.

"Let's get you home." Grandma Catalina said

She led me out of the market but we saw some Grisha walking and among them the black General. I stayed close to her as we walked, I saw her keep looking forward as we passed but not before I saw his wrist. He wasn't paying attention to his wrist but the initials AS were there as I kept my calm but then we heard him.

"Wait." General Kirigan's voice said

Grandma stopped with me as she seemed hesitant like she knew something I didn't but she kept me in front of her. When she turned around she kept me behind her but I knew he'd already seen me.

"Catalina, have you seen Amara and your son?" General Kirigan said coming over to her, "As an undeclared Grisha yourself you must be aware of his location." panic was going through me but I kept calm as Grandma was tapping my hand in code to keep calm. "I wouldn't know, he took his family some time ago." Grandma said as she was very calm. "I see and who is this with you?" General Kirigan asked, "Mila." Grandma said

I realized Grandma used my middle name to introduce me instead of my actual name because mom had named me similar to my mother. He seemed to notice I had a choker like my grandmother as he looked at her. "Has a soulmate marking started to appear?" General Kirigan asked, "Not that I know of but one can never be too careful. I'm the girl's guardian General and she needs a loving home with people she can trust, not a palace with other children who have been given up for the army." Grandma said, "Now if you don't mind, have a good day."

I never said anything so he probably thought I was mute, couldn't talk or speak. Grandma took my hand and led me away from him but I could tell she was on edge no matter what we did.

For the next couple of years, it seemed we were always running into him, and every time I saw him I saw my initials there. I knew the truth, I knew his initials had no K, he could change them all he wanted but his initials were AM. I was to pretend to be Mute when he showed up, they did not need a mute girl but I was trained well.

Around the time I was twelve I decided to go out on my own, we decided that I could handle it. I was given money and a list of things to get from the market as I went out on my own. People knew my name as Amira so they always welcomed me.

"Getting groceries for your grandmother, Amira?" One of the merchants asked

"Yes, sir." I said

I got everything and started to head back as I knew there was a lot to think about but it was starting to get dark. I knew girls older than me were disappearing still, human bodies found but that was it. Never a Grisha was taken and Fjerdans were hesitant to come with the news of vampires yet they still hunted our Grisha.

I was walking the path Grandma had taken me down several times figuring that I could get back home soon. When I heard the sound of a scream as I jumped, I hesitated as I looked down the path then I looked back the way to the house.

I should head home but someone is in danger. I thought

I went to look as I walked down against my better judgment and then when I got so far in the area I saw a black figure holding someone against the building. I was hesitant but I wondered what it was when I crept a little closer and got close but then I saw the figure stopped.

"Who's there?" The masculine voice said of General Kirigan

I realized I saw something I wasn't supposed to as I used light to conceal myself and ran home. I had learned to conceal myself in the dark from shadows if I needed to but I could hear them trying to follow. I kept my focus as I made it around the corner and ducked in the ally. Looking up I saw him standing there as he wiped his mouth. I wondered if this was what Merzost does to those who used it.

Is General Kirigan a vampire? Or maybe it's paint..yeah paint. He was just checking on the person. I thought

When he went back I ran home and got inside where I let grandma have her groceries but I went to my room. I laid down as I went over it in my head and I convinced myself I was just seeing things. It had to be my imagination that Vampires didn't exist except in the fold.

I hit my head...I had to have. I thought

#aleksander morovoza #general kirigan #darkling x reader #team darkling #the darkling #darkling #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone #grishaverse #fanfic #vampire #cannonxoc

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kirstinmaldonado · 5 years ago

Text

CHAPTER TEN 2.0

I had a horrible migraine Monday night. It was one of those that you feel after holding back tears all day, or letting it out all day, it was centered right in-between the eyes on the upper bridge of my nose. My eyes sweltered under discomfort. The icepacks or a cool touch to the head, something my mom would always do (she always has cold hands), couldn’t even console me. I didn’t feel feverish at all, but the pain was sharp and pulsating like a nervous heartbeat, over and over, until I couldn’t concentrate on TV or anything anymore I just had to go to bed and hope I could fall asleep.

I rarely get those kinds of headaches, that placement and severity. I’m usually fortunate to pass with dull, achey, temple headaches; and even my hangovers are never so pointed and jab-like.

My mom on the other hand, has dealt with migraines for years. I remember her pain as a kid, waking up in the morning wondering where she was, only to find her in the dark in her room, barely able to speak sometimes. I was always so sad to see her in such anguish, all alone in the dark. Silent. Still. While her head throbbed as if a brass band was playing “The Music Man” at too loud a decibel.

We watched a lot of horror films, my mom and I. In contrast to all the Disney films, I grew up on Jeepers Creepers, Scream, Final Destination and all the Freddy, Jason, true horror classics (yes, and all seven billion of their sequels). When she would be in bed, in the dark, we’d joke that she was a vampire needing her rest and that she needed to stay in the dark unbothered, and that lightheartedness to the situation made us smile and contented us.

Monday, Ben asked if migraines ran in my family, and though I told him about my mother’s constant battle with them the last couple years I was hoping mine felt more situational as opposed to genetic. Fingers crossed on that, and kudos to mom and those who get migraines for sticking it out cause they can be a big B-I-T-C-H.

I say situational, because it’s been A WEEK to say the least, with big things and confrontations happening in the public eye and in my own private life. The last two weeks have been incredibly eye-opening, painful, uncomfortable, moving, you name it. An entire rainbow of emotions (Happy Pride, by the way, cuties, I haven’t forgotten about you all).

I feel as if I’ve transformed into a new person with big, wide, new eyes, shedding some old skin that felt a little naive and a little out of touch with how the world, not should work, but how it’s REALLY been working. I’ve been talking to my black friends and fans, talking to my Hispanic family and hearing their stories, and talking amongst my friends and respected mentors. I’ve been doing some soul-searching and digging through memories of my own cop experiences (one, for example, at 17 with two white males [we were pulled over and eventually surrounded by 4 armed cop cars that got us out of the car, surrounded us, and wouldn’t tell us why] and wondering but knowing how that situation could have been if they were black), my jokes of being white-washed or assimilating in to white culture and not focusing on my own, and me coloring my hair blonde and wearing colored contacts not MY brown eyes for so much of my life and wondering what the intention of it all was for. Was it genuine or was I doing it to fit in, did I think it made me prettier, or more likable? Did I think or know that it would get me roles, because many ingenues or leading ladies at the time didn’t look like me?

At a point, at multiple points, all the things I’d uncover or watch in recent news had my stomach hard and in knots. Every new clip made me feel like I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t stop now that I had SEEN.

I was confused. Hurt. Believing what I’d seen, but needing other facts as if I was missing something completely because it all did not make sense to me. How COULD it?

I apologize for all the reposts and rants, but I hope it’s stayed in line with being something you should SEE, regardless of if its uncomfortable or not, so that you KNOW what is happening, while also trying to call action to addressing the issue but moving FORWARD towards a solution. I don’t want violence on my page. But now it’s hard to turn a blind eye.

The organized BLM LA protest on May 30th changed my life. After the speeches, we wanted to continue marching, moving, using our freedom of speech and combining our white, brown, black, and all colors in-between of voices so that we could be ONE VOICE UNITED to be HEARD.

I don’t think I went to the front lines because I was white-passing and felt safer, or because I was a woman so could be “less a threat.” I went because my black allies, who I didn’t even know, asked us to because the front was starting to get unnecessarily violent. I went because I had done nothing wrong and planned on doing nothing wrong. I went, in a way, to be an innocent. Because if I was in the front with no bad intention, the people beside and behind me would be okay.

As we walked through the crowds, their hands on my shoulders, their thanks, flared something visceral deep inside of me and I knew I was here to protect and mediate, and in a way, fighting against hate in whatever form as if I was a newborn Avenger. Someone cried out “I love this, this is what this movement is for!” and that has stayed with me as so many lighter-skinned protesters made their way to the front. Because that IS what this is for. Not to divide, but to unite to fight for justice against those that have unnecessarily been wronged.

I’ll never forget one black man that my friends and I urged to stay back beside us in the lines that had pushed to the front. He was angry. Upset. Hurt. Defiled. I’d never understood the pain the black community felt. But as we tried to reassure him, block him from the batons (from THAT COP), bring him back to the safety of the group, when I was hit in the ribs and the face as collateral because he would have been hit so much worse, the last thing he said as we pulled him back was “I want them to hear me.” And suddenly I felt holding him and consoling him was wrong, like I was a part of stealing his voice from him even though all I wanted was to keep him safe. Suddenly I felt so upset, so angry; although, of course, I’ll never even know HALF of that feeling as a non-black person who, to my knowledge, has never been treated differently for their identity.

I’ll never forget the way he said it. With so much hurt and pain, the anger fading in to just pure anguish and loss.

I felt like I’d silenced someone, so all I could do was get back to the front. It was my turn to be silent and let their voices carry behind me.

I’m sure you’ve seen the video going around, the stillness before the cops were ordered presumably to push the line back. While I can have a whole blog post of levels and steps they could have taken before the cop bashed through my canvas sign with his baton, you can look at the video and see for yourself. People getting hit because they were at the front, with no provocation. The man striking me with a baton, honestly probably because I had said openly to watch out for him, because he was showing a LOT of premature violence, because of how quickly he went after the man we were protecting; yet then only pushing the white girl next to me with his hand, even though she unfortunately was struck multiple times from another officer.

All awful!! All taken a step too far. I’ve never been more in shock. Ben was trying to pull me off the floor so I wouldn’t get stepped on. Our friends were hit by rubber bullets. Our other friends on another street running from tear gas.

The tear gas, the rubber bullets, the bruises and the ache have *I PRAY* started to leave Los Angeles as all the protests have started to become more peaceful and more organized. Since, I’ve been to three and they were all just, beautiful, and moving, each one getting better and bigger as the week went on. I carry a sense of pride and love seeing the aerial footage of all the people Sunday, and I think back to what my May 30 experience was compared to June 7th. I heard it was the largest protest yet. And while I felt like a sardine in a can, it was so packed, it was beautiful and it’s a memory I’ll hold forever!

I sidebar to say, I may no longer be cheering at the literal protesting frontlines with you for a while — I must return to Texas soon for family so must safely quarantine — but know the fight for equality, for justice has not ended just because it’s not trending anymore! I think I’m gonna have to shackle myself to my house so I won’t leave, haha, but know there is so much you can be doing from your home! As my grandma said, after the protests which are the catalysts and the calls for change the REAL reformative work begins!! And the road is long!

The most important thing, in my humble opinion, is to show up. To not be afraid. To ask the questions. To educate yourself through your friends with their experiences or through history.

Humbly, you must think, but what even can I do to help?

Showing up isn’t JUST protesting. It’s signing petitions. Donating to charities. It’s calling local reps. It’s doing the research and thinking, what can I do to lend my voice to help create a better world for all and doing it authentically if even imperfectly because deep down you also want to right these injustices and demand change! Do it in public. Do it in private. But do it because you believe in it!

I know everything feels a bit dark and overwhelming right now! The amount of times I’ve needed a “break” and then wanted to cry because my black friends and fans don’t get the opportunity to take “breaks” is countless. But your mental health is important for you to be the strongest ally you can be!

And if you’re afraid of backlash, understand that many are hurt. I know many feel nervous to speak up in a damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of way. But EACH of your voices are, and have always been so, so important. And each and every one of you have an important say and CHOICE/VOTE in to where we lead our country!

Someone told me this week that although sunflowers follow the sun, when it is cloudy and dark, they turn to face each other and share their energy!

I don’t know if that’s a million percent scientifically accurate, but the sentiment brought me to tears. In times of darkness, we should all be able to lean on each other for support.

We can all be sunflowers in the dark. <3

Love you all.

#blog 2.0

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btxtreads · 4 years ago

Text

the world ends with you | choi yeonjun (1)

How can someone fall in love at the most incovenient time?

➴ Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader ➴ Rating: R-13 ➴ Genre: Multiverse!AU, Fluff, Angst, My usual taehyun is the smartest out of everybody trope ➴ Trigger Warning for the chapter: Death, Blood

A black void.

A field of purple and yellow pansies.

Y/N tried to call out to the void—for anyone, anything, anybody.

But there was no answer.

Y/N sighed through her nose, walking forward.

Well, at least she can move now. That’s a start.

It was eerie—the way she heard the wind rustling through the flowers, the way she can feel the cold gust breezing past her, but she doesn’t know where it’s coming from.

It was an endless walk, and endless field of white, yellow, and purple—wait.

There was someone, in the distance.

Y/N waved her hands.

“Hello? Who’s there?” She screamed as she neared. “I’m here!”

The figure didn’t reply. Maybe they didn’t hear her.

She walked closer.

“Hello?” She greeted.

Still, nothing.

She walked even closer.

And closer.

Oh, it’s him again.

Y/N pursed her lips as she stopped in front of the figure, hunched over in a chair.

A crown of roses rested upon his head, his throat sliced and bleeding.

The way his eyes were closed and his body slumped, it was almost like he was asleep.

The corpse wasn’t scary at all, though—He looked majestic with his blonde hair, white clothes and flowers, making his corpse seemingly gentle as the chair he sat on a chair in a pond.

He was so beautiful, Y/N almost wanted to cry.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N asked, submerging herself to the pond and kneeling in front of him. “Who are you?”

The corpse suddenly gasped, opening his eyes.

Brown eyes.

Y/N locked gazes with him as she fell back into the pond and into the darkness.

She didn’t even get his name.

Y/N shot up, panting as she gazed around her.

She was in bed, her plush doll she cuddled to sleep haphazardly thrown off of her bed like it usually was.

Her sheets bunched around her—that must be why she felt so hot.

Not because she dreamt of the corpse. Again.

“Why was he dead?” She asked herself, grasping at nearby notebook and writing it down.

Dead guy again. This time, no one was talking. But he woke up for the first time.

She sighed, taking a look at the other entries.

Dead guy. Voices: he just came from America.

Dead guy: Voices: he wants to go to a flower field.

Dead guy. Voices: he wants his Huening. What’s a Huening?

Y/N sighed as Namjoon, her older brother, bursted the door open.

“Rise and shine!”

“You rise and shine,” Y/N argued, tucking the notebook under her pillow.

“Rough night?”

“Same old,” Y/N shrugged, as she went to the kitchen. “Still dreaming stuff,”

“Wonder what it means,” Namjoon asked, humming in thought as he followed after the girl.

“You tell me,” Y/N snorted. “You’re the star man,”

“Cosmological Physicist,” Namjoon argued. “And I deal with science, not astrology. Plus, even if I was studying astrology, I doubt I can help you.”

“Yeah, I doubt that my sun sign can tell me why I’m dreaming about creepy shit,” Y/N snorted.

Namjoon only rolled his eyes, taking a seat by the table as Y/N helped herself to a cup of coffee.

“I don’t know what to say, Y/N,” he sighed, leaning his head on his hands. “You should go see a therapist about that. Maybe there’s some psychological thing about it?”

“Sure,” Y/N snorted. “Like they can help decode my annoyingly cryptic dreams,”

“It’s a suggestion,” Namjoon shrugged, checking the clock. “Anyways, you woke up late and it’s almost noon. Take a bath and get dressed,”

“What for?”

“Have you forgotten?” Namjoon snorted. “We’re seeing grandma today,”

“Sure,” Y/N made a move to go back to her room before turning back. “Hey, star man. You study universes, right?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes before nodding, making Y/N hum in wonder.

“Hey, what if this is like an alternate universe thing?” Y/N wondered. “Ooh, what if I’m time travelling to—”

Namjoon snorted.

“Okay, first of all, the multiverse theory is complex. There’s no way you’re travelling while you’re asleep unless you’re strong and fast enough to vibrate in the same frequency as that universe and strong and fast enough to throw yourself in and out of the universe in a night,” Namjoon snorted, amused at the idea of his sister travelling the multi-verse. “Or, every night for that matter.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but Namjoon cut her off.

“No, not time-travel either. You’re not living a sci-fi movie,”

“What if I am though?”

“You aren’t,”

“You just don’t like it that I’m better than you,“ Y/N teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “What if I’m a scientific break-through?”

“Y/N, just go take a bath,” Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“Fine,”

It was a few hours later when the two arrived at their grandmother’s humble abode.

Namjoon wandered around aimlessly around the old house, confused.

“Where are the eggs?” He asked Y/N, making the girl snort as she assisted their grandmother to the kitchen counter.

“Stop panicking and sit with grandma before you poke your eye out with a fork,” Y/N snorted. “I’ll cook,”

Namjoon breathed out a sigh of relief as he plopped down on the chair next to his grandmother.

“You still don’t know how to cook?” His grandmother chastised, making him wince.

“I don’t know, Grandma. He made breakfast once, he burned scrambled eggs, so…”

“I didn’t know you had to flip it,” He muttered under his breath, as his grandmother laughed.

“Anyway, grandma,” Namjoon changed the conversation, embarrassed enough at his lack of cooking skills. “How have you been?”

“Oh, same old, same old, darling,” His grandmother gushed, patting his cheek. “Oh, and happy birthday, dearest,”

“It’s not my birthday,” Namjoon sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Grandma, it’s only July,” Y/N said, exchanging a sympathetic look with Namjoon. “His birthday’s in September,”

“Oh, is it? Silly me,” Their grandmother hummed. “Now, what are you concoting there, child?”

“Just a snack,” Y/N said, setting a pan on the stove.

Their grandmother smiled in wonder, humming dreamily.

“Ah, this reminds me of when I was younger. My mom would be in the kitchen cooking while my father sat with me,” Their grandmother reminisced, making Namjoon sigh in worry.

“Grandma, you should really rethink on our offer to stay with us,” He said.

“Oh, I can handle myself, dearest,”

“I’m sure you can, grandma,” Y/N sighed, turning back with a nod as she set a plate of food in front of the old woman. “But, we still worry,”

“Oh,” their grandmother gasped as she reached out to touch Y/N’s necklace, hanging from her neck. “Where did you get this?”

Y/N exchanged a look with Namjoon before shrugging and taking it off for her grandmother to observe.

“Just the mall. I thought it was cute,” Y/N replied, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

Their grandmother gasped, standing up with Namjoon’s assistance.

“Come here, dearest,” their grandmother whispered, pulling a box from underneath the coffee table and revealing a small music box.

Y/N sat next to the old woman, marvelling at the antique.

“What’s this?”

“Something my mother gave me,” Their grandmother gushed before urging them to pull closer. “Look, look,”

Namjoon sighed in boredom as Y/N gasped in curiosity.

Their grandmother turned the knob to open the music box, emitting a soft lullaby she has heard before.

“This is the lullaby mom always sung to you and me, Joon!” Y/N gasped. “I used to be so confused because it was in Korean and mom doesn’t know how to speak Korean, remember?”

“Our lullaby. Your mother couldn’t sleep without hearing it back then.” Their grandmother hummed. “It’s actually father who taught me, it was a lullaby from their family,”

“Great-grandpa Lee,” Namjoon said as Y/N hummed along with the music box. “Mom never told us about him,”

“Well, of course she wouldn’t. He died before your mother was born. He was a great father,” Their grandma told as she lifted the music box and pulled on a small switch at the side. “He left me this,”

Y/N gasped as a necklaced, with a pendant of a fossilized purple and yellow pansy, was pulled out of the music box.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N gasped as Namjoon seemed confused.

“It’s just a flower,” Namjoon muttered, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Your grandfather told me it’s from another world,” Their grandma whispered, like it was some sort of conspiracy theory and not a bed-time story. “This box was given to him by your great-great-grandmother, who got it from your great-great-great-grandmother,”

“So, an heirloom,” Namjoon said, taking the pansy for himself as Y/N thought to herself.

“It’s yours now, Y/N,” Their grandmother gushed as she urged Y/N to take the necklace. “Wear it,”

Y/N frowned as Namjoon gave her the necklace and clasped it on her.

Why does it look so familiar?

Y/N ran her thumb on the fossilized petal.

“There’s a long-running legend in our family,” Their grandmother told. “We always used to dream the same thing—over and over,”

“Excessive dreaming, huh,” Y/N crossed her arms. “So, it’s a genetic thing?”

Their grandmother continued like she heard nothing.

“The last one who dreamed was my grandmother, yes,” The woman hummed. “She dreamt about a field of purple and yellow flowers—that’s what she told me,”

Their grandmother sat still, deep in thought.

“I remember, she saw someone there. She never found out who or even got near them,”

Y/N frowned.

But she did.

Namjoon interrupted.

“That’s ridiculous,” Namjoon snorted. “It’s probably some fever dream passed down from generation from generation, through story-telling,”

Y/N looked over at Namjoon.

“Yeah, probably,” Y/N muttered.

No, it wasn’t.

That same day, Namjoon decided to stay over at their grandmother’s house for the night—just to be with her in the mean time.

Y/N frowned, thinking.

What could any of this mean?

Her hands shot out to her necklace, thumbing the petal once more.

“Joon?” She called out, looking up to find that she was in a world of black once more—smack dab in the middle of a field.

A field of flowers.

A field of pansies.

The necklace.

Y/N gasped, reaching up to her neck and feeling the fossilized petal once more.

So, it was sort of true.

Y/N wandered around the field aimlessly as she thought.

Her family had a line of people who dreamed about the same thing—maybe even the same boy—for centuries.

Her great-great-grandmother never got to the person, and she was the last one to have the dream—but somehow Y/N did.

Oh, right. The boy.

“Hello?” She called—no answer.

Y/N continued walking, wandering around aimlessly until she hit a figure in front of her.

She yelped, falling to the ground.

“Ow,”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” A male voice gasped, making Y/N snap her up.

It was the boy—still blonde, still beautiful, but very much alive.

There was no chair in sight, no crown of thorns and flowers—just him.

“Holy shit,” she muttered under her breath, making the boy burn red.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked as he helped Y/N come to a stand.

“Are you okay?” Y/N said, confused as she inspected the boy. “You’re okay?”

Unlike the other times, the boy wore a comfy gray sweatshirt with a slit on the shoulder and a backpack swung over his shoulders.

His usual well-kempt blonde hair dotted, topped with a flower crown, now looked somehow wind-swept.

There was no traces of wounds or blood anywhere.

He sent her a look of confusion, before looking to his side and back at her.

“Uh, are you lost?”

“You’re alive,” Y/N gasped, reaching out to cup his face in her hands.

Well, he definitely felt alive.

“Oh, wow,” Y/N gasped.

Yeonjun widened his eyes, gaining a look of recognition as his lips formed into an ‘o’.

“Wait, have we met before?” Yeonjun asked.

“In a dream, I think.” Y/N said. “Maybe I’m dreaming again,”

Yeonjun furrowed his eyebrows, raising his hand to cup hers on his face.

“This is my first time seeing you alive,” Y/N muttered to herself. “I can’t believe you’re alive,”

The boy tilted his head, grasp tightening on her hands.

“But, I’ve never been dead,” He replied. “Are you okay?”

Then, Y/N stopped.

The boy—he seemed all too real, all too warm, all too corporeal.

He kept frowning as Y/N noticed her surroundings.

Yes, she was in a field of purple and yellow pansies—but instead of a regular black void, she can see the vast blue skies above her.

Behind the boy approached another, with lavender hair just as windswept as the blonde boy’s in her grasp.

“Yeonjun-hyung, who’s this?”

Y/N’s grip dropped on the boy, mind racing a mile a minute.

The blonde boy shrugged, tilting his head as the lavender-haired boy stopped next to him to look down on the girl with a frown on his face.

“I don’t know, ‘bin. She said we met in a dream,” The blonde replied as Y/N looked back up at his brown eyes. “What did you say your name was again?”

That’s when she realized that, no—this wasn’t a dream.

84 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

01 & 02 | home; juice ortiz.

Notes:

.... and apparently, my brain yearned to write angsty and kind of tragic things. I really haven’t written much for sons of anarchy beyond a few little short things here and there so.. be warned. I’m gonna loosely follow some of the things that happen on the show timeline, but.. this one might take longer to write / post / update because I’m going to try to watch SOA again as I do this. Try being the operative.

So uh.. buckle up?

Also.. I haven’t made a cover for this yet. or a soundtrack. And this is c

Pairing:

Teller Morrow OFC x Juice Ortiz.

Summary:

“Home is where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends.” “A house is made of bricks and beams. A home is made of hopes and dreams.” “Home is not a place…it's a feeling.”

“Home is wherever I’m with you.”

Years ago, Hazelynn Teller (Morrow) left Charming behind. She turned her back on everything in search of something.. anything that felt like it fit. But nothing ever did. After a series of events cause her to re-evaluate and she finds herself returning to Charming, can she fix everything she broke when she left?

And again I ask.. why must my summaries suck? I swear this might possibly be better than the summary.

Warnings:

Injury / accident tw - for this chapter only. Mentions of a genetic heart defect / a newborn in NICU. fighting / violence tw - duh, this show was pretty damn violent and there’s no way I can escape having at least some of the major stuff that happened present. slow burn and angst. because people don’t just fall back together and feelings aren’t magically healed. eventual filth. any other triggering things that arise I’ll warn in those chapters. These are just the ones I can think of, immediately, right now.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@sassymox

@twistnet

ONE.

The phone ringing had Jax Teller sitting up in bed. He grimaced at the pounding hangover and he reached for his cellphone, answering.

“Are you family of Hazelynn Teller Morrow?”

“She’s my baby sister, why?” Jax wasn’t getting a good feeling at all. The woman on the other end of the line sounded so formal and her tone was so clipped. Unconcerned. It was his own personal experience that usually, when you got a call like this in the middle of the night, nothing good ever came of it.

What the nurse told him next left him reeling.

“There’s been an accident. She’s been admitted to Santa Monica General. Her daughter is in the NICU.”

“You said Santa Monica General, right?” Jax was sitting up in bed now, trying to get his heart down out of his throat. He was slipping out of bed, grabbing for his jeans on the floor. “Are you sure there isn’t some mistake? My sister, she… She doesn’t have a kid. Not that I’m aware of..” He was hoping against hope that there was a mistake somewhere, but the nurse spoke again.

“Your sister was in labor and on her way here to give birth when the accident occurred. We had to induce labor. Given the state your sister is in, we’re calling the family since we have no way to know who the baby’s father is… Just to err on the side of caution.”

Jax’s stomach rolled. Tara hugged against him from behind. “What’s going on, Jax?”

Jax shushed her, listening to the nurse detail his sister’s injuries and the fact that while they were trying to save his niece she slipped into a coma and had yet to wake up. When he hung up the phone, he swung at a wall.

“Jax?”

“I have to go pick up my mom.” Jax grabbed the keys to his bike and rushed out of the house, firing it up.

The entire drive across town to his mother’s house passed by in a daze. He didn’t even remember what color the stoplight had been when he went through it, only that he was sitting in his mother’s driveway only three and a half minutes later. Rushing to his mom’s front door. Pounding on it to wake her up.

Gemma threw the door open, a brow raised at Jax when she saw him standing on the other side. “Jax?”

“Mom, it’s Hazelynn… The hospital in Santa Monica called me.”

Gemma’s mouth opened only to close again. It was probably one of very few times over the course of his life that Jax Teller had actually seen his mother speechless. Or about to cry.

“What happened? Jax, talk to me. Talk to me now.” Gemma demanded, her voice shaky. Jax took a few deep breaths and put his arms around his mother, explaining what the nurse told him when she’d called. Gemma’s tears started to fall and she bolted back into the house, shaking Clay awake.

Clay grumbled at the early hour but sat up.

Looking as if he’d vomit as Jax repeated everything the nurse told him for a second time that night.

“I’ll drive. Neither of you are in the shape.” Clay was up and getting dressed on auto pilot, stopping at one point to question, “They say whether she had anybody there with her?”

“The whole reason the nurse is calling family is because she was coming to the hospital alone because she’d gone into labor. They can’t track down a father.”

“Oh, I’ll find the bastard.”

“Clay…”

“I’m not kidding Gemma.” Clay’s fists clenched and he took a few deep breaths.

“We’ll just get there and assess the situation. Go from there. She needs us.” Gemma gave Clay a firm look of warning and it seemed to get him reasonably calm.

The next few hours were sitting in silence in a waiting room. Endless pots of shitty break room coffee. Gemma jumping every time someone coded.

And finally, around 9 am, a doctor got around to them.

Hazelynn was awake. And her vitals seemed steady.

“Can we go back to see her?”

“In an hour. We want to make sure she’s up to it.”

“What about my niece?”

“One at a time. I’ll send a nurse over to get you prepped to go down to NICU.” The doctor promised, setting off to go and track down a nurse.

The nurse showed up a few minutes later and Gemma stood, the shock starting to subside but only slightly. As they walked back to the NICU nursery, the nurse told Gemma that they’d detected a heart defect and Gemma explained that both herself and her granddaughter’s uncle suffered from similar.

“We’re not supposed to let anyone back here that isn’t a parent until 8 pm.. But given the circumstance…”

Gemma thanked her and stepped into the room, taking a seat in the chair in the corner. The nurse brought over her granddaughter and Gemma took her in her arms.

“Oh sweetie. Everything is going to be okay.”

But Gemma was afraid. So very afraid.

XXX

“ You don’t have to leave town, Haze.”

It was the last thing my brother said to me. He’d hugged me. Then my mom hugged me and wiped at her eyes. Made me promise a thousand times to call and come back to visit. I promised her I would, even though I knew deep down I’d be limiting myself to calls only.

If I went home to visit, I might not ever leave again.

And I didn’t want to be like all the other girls I went to school with, settling down and settling for whatever came their way.

I left town with all these big ambitions and plans. And one by one, life knocked them right out from beneath me. Life tried again and again to break me but I was too stubborn to be broken.

But this last blow.. This last blow was too much.

The nurse came in to check on me and the first thing I demanded was to know if my daughter was alright. The second and a half it took the nurse to tell me that my daughter was alive and currently down in NICU was the longest second and a half of my entire life and the second I heard the nurse tell me that my daughter was alive and I hadn’t lost her, I broke.

Sobbing. Grateful.

If I’d lost her… I shoved the thought out because I just couldn’t.

“Wait.. NICU… What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my baby?”

“The doctors detected a heart defect.”

I took a shaky breath. I’d been warned by my mom that there was a possibility that any children I had could end up with the heart defect, even though it managed to skip over me. At my last checkup, my doctor had been concerned about the genetic heart defect present in my brother and my mother. Nothing had shown up in any of the tests they’d been able to do at that point, so I’d been hopeful.

I nodded. Taking a few deep breaths. Moving to sit but wincing when a wave of pain washed over me.

The door to my private room opened and my brother stepped in. My birth father Clay standing behind him.

Jax rushed over to the bed, putting my legs back into it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going to see my daughter. I.. She needs me, Jax.”

“She needs you healthy, darlin.” Clay spoke up quietly.

Awkwardly, I let him hug me. Things had always been tense between us. More so when the truth came out that he was my actual father. It had thrown my entire life in a tailspin back then and while I’m not proud to admit it at all, I’d went full on rebellious. Refusing to acknowledge him.

But he’d kept trying.

“I couldn’t even keep myself from crashing a fucking car. I failed already. She could’ve died.” I was full on sobbing now as everything hit me. I looked from Jax to Clay and asked quietly, “Where’s mom?” I.. Need to see her.”

“Your mom’s down in NICU.” Clay explained, doing his best to give me a reassuring look. Wincing at the way my forehead was stitched. “Least you got the Morrow hard head, huh?” he tried to joke. Jax gave him a warning look, but rather than stubbornly refuse to go along with it like I used to in all of Clay’s past attempts to bond with me over the years, all I could do this time was nod. Mutter quietly, “Thank god.”

My brother cleared his throat.

“What about the father?”

“What about him? He’s married. Dropped me like a bad habit when he found out I wasn’t getting rid of the baby. Only after he tried to pay me off.”

Jax’s fist clenched and I shook my head. “I’m better off… I.. I mean I think I am.” my words fell away and I leaned my head back against the pillow behind me gingerly.

“You didn’t have any friends you could get to drive you?” Clay questioned. I shook my head, not bothering to open my eyes. “I’d just moved here. I was.. Working up the nerve to come home. I didn’t really know anybody.”

“So the kid’s dad is elsewhere?” Clay questioned further. I could just tell by his tone that he was already thinking of the best way to make the situation right. To make the father of my child pay for being an actual piece of shit.

“Clay, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Leave it alone, sir. Not everybody has to pay for their wrongs your way. The bastard will regret it one day when she grows up and she’s amazing and she didn’t need him. I don’t want the guy near me.”

It didn’t stop the look in his eyes and I sighed. Appealing to the last card I held that I thought might work. “If you care about me at all and you still want to be a part of my life, sir.. You’ll leave this alone. I just… I want to put it behind me.”

I let out a ragged breath and searched his eyes. When he seemed to relax and grumble while shaking his head, I relaxed. It felt as if he were going to let it go as I asked. Maybe going away had changed things just a little.

Jax spoke up quietly.

“ You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Try being me.” I muttered quietly, letting my brother hug me, holding on just a little tighter.

The door to my room opened again and my mother stepped in. She didn’t look like the same carefully put together woman I remembered. She looked like she was drained. Scared to death.

Suddenly, I wanted to go back in time and punch my younger self in the throat. How could I have ever thought that just because I was a reminder of the affair my mom started with Clay Morrow before Jax’s father passed away that she cared less.. Or that me being around was just painful for her to begin with?

I felt worse than I’ve ever felt before.

Jax stopped my mom, asking if she thought they’d let him go back and sit with my daughter. My mom led him back out in the hallway, probably to go find the NICU nurse on duty and find out the answer, and this left me and my birth father alone together.

“I know we never got along real good, kid.”

“I’m sorry.” I blurted it out before he could say anything else. “I was messed up, okay? The way it came out… The way it made everyone fight… I just.. I don’t know.” I dropped my gaze to the thin white blanket over my legs and Clay sighed.

“If you want to come home… It’d make more sense, I’d think. Gonna be damn hard to help out with my grandkid when you’re all the way in Santa Monica. And I’m not about to let my daughter take all this on by herself. We clear, Red?”

I mulled it over. It wasn’t something I’d already been heavily leaning towards for the better part of a month now. I’d just been too scared to pull the trigger and do it.

“Yes sir.” I answered, managing a smile.

My mom stepped into the room, door shutting behind her quietly.

“I cannot wait until you are away from this hospital. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to get anybody to answer a simple question?” my mom muttered, leaning down, hugging me tight. Fussing over a stitch on my forehead, grumbling “They didn’t even attempt to close this properly. I’ve seen bikers at Sturgis do a better sew up.” and making me laugh. Just a little.

She pulled away from the hug and brushed some hair away from my forehead. “Sweetie, I..” she started to say something but I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t know you felt the way you felt until your brother threw it up right after you left. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Don’t start crying.” my mom was reaching for a tissue, gingerly dabbing it at my eyes. “The important thing is it’s behind us. Okay?”

I nodded.

“You’re moving back to Charming.”

Normally, my mother making demands would’ve set me on edge. But I wasn’t that same angry rebellious girl anymore. And deep down, I was starting to realize just how much I loved and needed my family, especially right now.

Warts and all.

“Okay.” I managed a weak smile.

“Was she okay?” I asked quietly after another tight hug that had me wincing just a little and reminding her gently that I was one giant ache. My mom smiled and nodded. “She’s as beautiful as you, sweetie. And despite the family flaw striking again, I think she’s a fighter already. Have you got a name?”

“ Emma Sophia.”

My mom smiled at that. I figured she would because Emma was basically just Gemma, shortened. And Sophia in tribute to all the old movies she used to make me sit through with her when I was younger, after an actress named Sophia Loren.

“I like that, sweetie.”

When she was sure Clay wasn’t actively listening, she whispered quietly, “And the father?”

“Is not an issue. Nor will he ever be one. I got him to sign away paternal rights.”

“You’re sure.” My mom asked again and I nodded. “He was married, mom, I... “ I trailed off, waiting for a lecture. Instead, my mom sighed and nodded. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

And for the first time in years, I really believed she was right. Maybe everything really would be okay now.

The doctor came in to check on me again and check my vitals and after doing that, he turned to address my mother and Clay.

“Mother and baby’s vitals are holding strong and steady. I’d say that if the pattern continues, we can release Mother by the weekend.”

“What about my baby?” I spoke up quickly.

“We want to keep your daughter for observation. I’d say at least another two weeks.”

I took a few deep breaths, starting to panic a little. Wanting to cry. My mom grabbed hold of my hand and repeated calmly, “Everything will be fine. They kept your brother just as long.”

I nodded, even though the thought still scared the hell out of me.

TWO.

The Welcome to Charming sign passed by and I smiled a little. Emma was sleeping in the carrier. I was almost home.

And hopeful.

Just as I turned down the road my mom lived on, my cell phone buzzed. I switched the call so that it went through my radio to answer.

“ Exactly how big is too big for a stuffed animal?” Jax asked and I groaned, shaking my head at the question. “What have you done, Jax?”

“There was a unicorn.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.. Remember that one Clay won you when you were twelve? This one makes two of that one.”

“Where the fuck am I putting this?”

My mom spoke up from the background. “We got it in the nursery. Barely. I told your brother he’s not allowed near the stuffed animals anymore.”

“In my defense ma, it’s my niece.”

I parked behind the motorcycles lining my mother’s driveway. Tensing just a little when I recognized Juice’s Dyna Glide parked next to Tig’s motorcycle.

And as soon as I saw him, it was like everything froze. I wasn’t ready to face him. Especially not when I considered that it felt like someone had just knocked the breath right out of me. As I walked past him, I didn’t dare look over.

I couldn’t do it, no matter how badly every part of me wanted to. My brother and Opie came over, arguing about the unicorn, Opie nearly lifting me off the ground in a hug. I reached back into the car, killing the engine and shutting the driver door. Making my way to the backseat and unbuckling the carrier.

“Awww. She’s even got the same chubby little cheeks, man.” Opie chuckled, elbowing Jax who nodded. I smiled and as soon as Emma started to wake up and cry, I dug around in my diaper bag for the bottle I’d pumped for her at a rest stop.

Sitting the carrier on the trunk of the car, I unfastened Emma, pulling her out.

Instantly drawing over at least ten gigantic bikers. Watching them fuss over her had me laughing and smiling a little.

Juice hung back. Leaning against the tree in the yard with a tire swing. Watching. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to come over with everyone else.. Near me. Or whether he wanted to just leave.

When he started to make his way over after Chibs stopped to whisper something in his ear, I swallowed hard. The guys had gone back to the grill set up behind the house by now. It pretty much left me sitting in the passenger seat of my car finishing up feeding Emma. Humming softly as I did so.

Humming what used to be the song that Juice and I dubbed ‘our song’.

“Visiting? I’m surprised your man let you come by yourself.”

I glanced up at Juice, taking a deep breath. Bracing myself for all the anger and bitterness I thought I’d find waiting in his gaze. Surprised when all I found instead was concern. Maybe a little hurt.

But deeper down, the same way he always used to look at me.

“Juice..” I started, but I went quiet. I didn’t know what to say. There was so much I wanted to say but it was probably beyond too late for that.

More than anything, I wished I had a rewind button.

What if I hadn’t left town? Ran from the way I felt about everything back then?

“I had a while to get over it.” he muttered, gazing at me. Going quiet. “Jax told me why you had to go. I fuckin hated it, but I had a while to get over it.”

I nodded.

Somehow I got the feeling that he was pretending it didn’t kill him. To save face.

Kind of exactly like I was right now.

“You could’ve said somethin, ya know?”

“Juice..”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. Leaning against my car. Staring up at the bright blue of the sky overhead. “It’s over and done with though.”

My stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if what he was saying was a good or a bad thing. Seeing him again after all this time, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to be over.

Because when I left it all behind, I hadn’t just left behind a family that actually loved me, I’d left him behind too.

And looking at him now. With a more adult perspective… I suddenly found myself wondering if leaving him behind had been the biggest mistake of my life…

“Do you want to hold her?”

Juice eyed me but nodded, reaching out for her. “Hey pretty girl.” he muttered, smiling a little. After he held her for a few minutes, he placed her back in my arms.

And as he did so, the touch lingered as we locked eyes.

“I missed you.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I barely survived.” Juice answered, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something else. He turned and walked away and I spent a few minutes trying to pull myself back together again.

It had been harder seeing him again after all this time than I thought.

Harder to resist him. Harder to shove down the surge of emotions. Harder to try not to think about just how much I still loved him and harder to swallow the fact that by now, it was probably too late.

I got the feeling that it was only going to get so much harder.

And I sighed, because every part of me wanted to hold out hope that there was still something there but I had to accept the fact that I’d probably lit a match and set everything on fire when I left town back then. That there wasn’t any hope to be had.

That Juice was done with me.

And that hurt more than I was prepared for.

I shoved it all out of my head, wandering over to where my mom sat. Giving Tara some serious side eye.

“He had to bring her.” my mom was glaring in Tara’s general direction. Rolling her eyes as Tara carried Abel around. Everything Tara Knowles did annoyed my mom. That much hadn’t changed at all.

“In his defense, mom, she’s kind of his old lady.” I pointed out quietly. Taking a sip of the pink lemonade she’d pushed in my direction.

My mom shrugged, grumbling under her breath. Probably something to the effect of she wouldn’t be if my mom had her way about it. I sat down next to her at the picnic table and she peeked in the sling I had Emma strapped into. “Hey sweetie.” she cooed.

Emma grinned up at her, sleepy eyed. After a few seconds, my mom spoke up.

“Speaking of old ladies… If you’re wondering. Juice doesn’t have one.”

“Mom, I.. we both know I ruined everything there when I left.” I sighed, shaking my head no. Trying to cut whatever crazy idea she was formulating out before it took hold. Somehow I got the feeling that it was too late for that. My mom, being the meddling mom she’s known to be at times, she was going to try to shove me right through the ‘healing process’ over the end of my last breakup.

My mom shrugged, shaking her head. Quick to protest, “You never know.”

I didn’t say anything. For one thing, I was trying to get my head around my mom seeming to push me towards Juice. I hadn’t really thought she liked him all that much back then. I know Clay didn’t particularly care for him.

XXX

Juice wasn’t listening to a word Chibs said. Chibs caught sight of the direction he was staring in and he chuckled to himself, nudging Juice in the side, nodding in Hazelynn’s direction. “Go over n’ try t’ talk.”

Juice shook his head. “Every time I think about it, I remember that she’s the one who thought she was too good for any of this and left. Without a good bye. What’s done is done. I wasn’t good enough for her then, why do I wanna be good enough for her now, huh?”

“Maybe it wasn’t that at all.” Chibs butted in. Grumbling as he took a drag of his cigarette. The kid wasn’t listening. He wasn’t stopping to think about everything that unfolded prior to Hazelynn’s decision to leave. Chibs went quiet. He knew better than to try reasoning with the kid. Juice was a hard headed little shit.

“Look at me, Chibs. We both know it was.” Juice insisted, shaking his head sadly. “I tried to be good enough man.. I just fuckin wasn’t.”

Chibs brushed off the statement, putting it down to Juice’s recent downward mood swing and tension. The guy had been down about a lot lately. Like he had a million things on his mind. If Chibs ever tried to bring it up, Juice dismissed it. Stating he didn’t want to talk about it.

Juice bit his lip. Staring at Hazelynn. Sighing as he stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking. Every part of him was still drawn to her. If he could, he’d go over. He’d tell her that he still loved her, he’d never stopped.

But there was so much going on right now.

The biggest part of it being the secret he was being forced to keep. Just the thought of the betrayal he was currently being forced to carry out against men he thought of as brothers was enough to have him tensing up all over again. Any second, they’d figure out it was him. None of the guys in Samcro were that stupid. Even the ones who acted like they were.

Sooner or later, everything would come out.

And Juice Ortiz was living with the weight of that dread and his secrets and decision every single day.

,, I just have to stay away. Keepin her at arms length is keepin her safe.” the solemn thought weighed heavily and he tore his eyes off of her.

Somehow, he got the feeling that would be easier said than done.

#juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fic #my writing ; juice ortiz #my fics ; juice ortiz #my fanfiction ; juice ortiz #// HEAVY ANGST WARNING #injury / accident tw

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theotherackerman · 3 years ago

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

NOTES:

Monday January 18th

song eren sings: hey stephen-taylor swift

chapter twenty: slipped away into a moment in time

Annie did not like doctors to begin with.

They asked too many questions looking for answers she did not have.

Were her parents alive?

Were her parents dead?

She didn’t have the slightest clue.

This doctor decided to go on and on about how Annie needed to know these answers so she could see if the baby was going to need certain genetic testing.

After twenty minutes of arguing with the doctor how she didn’t know and that there was no way for her to find those answers, Annie left.

She wasn’t doing this.

They wouldn’t unseal files just because Annie was pregnant.

Armin trailed after her.

“We’ll find another doctor,” Armin assured her.

“It will just be more of the same questions,” Annie sighed.

“Maybe we find one that’s more understanding,” he reassured her as they walked to the car.

“If you say so,” she replied.

Annie didn’t have much hope.

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

The first lot was mostly empty of both people and cars.

After the salesman tried to argue with Ymir about what type of engine a car had while Ymir was staring at it, they moved onto the second car lot on the list.

The second lot was much better. It had a better selection of cars and there was a woman salesperson.

Ymir drooled over a black Chevy Camaro that was used. It was manual so it was out of the question for Mikasa.

But for Ymir, she knew how to drive a manual.

Both Levi and Mikasa took note of how Ymir was staring at it.

Mikasa ended up staring at a red Dodge Charger.

“You’re going to get so many tickets. Cops favor red,” Levi sighed.

“That would require her to drive over the speed limit,” Ymir scoffed.

“She’s got a point there,” Eren nodded.

“I can hear you,” Mikasa told them.

“It’s your color. What do you think?” Eren asked her.

“You want to take it for a drive?” the saleswoman asked them .

“Go ahead,” Levi sighed.

Once Mikasa, Eren, and Ymir were in the car and driving it around the block with the saleswoman. Levi went to find another one.

“I want to take the black Camaro out,” he informed the people at the desk.

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

Ymir didn’t like this.

She didn’t like how Mikasa was signing a check for Ymir’s car.

“You don’t...you shouldn’t…” Ymir protested.

It took one death glare from Mikasa followed by the words, “shut up.”

The check was signed. The Camaro was Ymir’s.

And suddenly Ymir realized she would never be able to repay this kindness.

“What about Historia? She doesn’t have a car either,” Ymir protested.

“She doesn’t seem like she misses her car that much. If she does, I'll just buy her one too," Mikasa shrugged

"You can't spend all your money on us," Ymir grumbled.

"Learn to take a gift with grace, Ymir," Levi said before he rolled his eyes.

She had not been expecting this at all. She certainly didn't understand it when she was pulling into the driveway.

The Camaro drove like a dream. She had thought she would have forgotten how to drive a manual as it had been so long. But it all came back to her like it was second nature. She could remember learning how to drive it with Jean and Reiner. Jean's mother had got him a Porsche which was, of course, manual. Reiner's truck had been the same. After nagging Historia who Reiner had been dating at the time, Reiner agreed to teach Ymir. It had been a strange moment for Ymir. Because she had been jealous of Reiner's relationships with Historia.

Mikasa pulled into the driveway not long after Ymir with Eren sitting into the front passenger seat.

The ride here had been fairly quiet. She worried about what was going through his mind.

“Do you remember that song you sang for me in high school? Before we got together?” He asked her.

“Which one?” Mikasa asked as she put the car into park.

“It goes something like {lyrics redacted due to copyright},” Eren sang before he undid his seatbelt.

“Nope. No idea what you’re talking about. I’ll see you inside,” Mikasa tried to get out of the car quickly but Eren grabbed her arm.

“Oh come on, you know it. Because half through you shut your notebook, said it was terrible, and changed the subject.”

Mikasa sighed, “what made you think of this?”

“I don’t know. It just kind of popped into my head.” He let go of her arm.

“I was fifteen. I was embarrassed and thought you would know it was about you. That’s why I stopped. Is that the song you added too?”

“Nope. Not that one. Do you still have that notebook?”

She nodded. “It’s in one of the drawers of my desk.”

“Maybe we could play it together,” he said before he looked down.

“It’s embarrassing…” she replied before she opened the door.

“Then I’ll play you one of my old songs written about you. It’s probably more embarrassing than yours. I promise.”

Eren told her before she got out of the car.

Mikasa sighed.

They were supposed to be baring everything. There was supposed to be no secrets between them. She got out of the car, locking it behind her.

“How embarrassing?” she asked him.

“You have no idea,” he told her with a smirk.

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

Hoover Construction and Architecture was who Levi had hired to work in the basement. Bertolt and his father had arrived at the house along with Marco around noon. Turns out that Marco was interning as architect there. They had looked at the basement and future nursery before giving Levi a fair estimate. They were to begin work on the basement on Thursday.

Annie showed up with Armin in tow after lunch.

“You’ll be okay?” he asked Annie as he picked up his backpack.

They had stopped by a pregnancy clinic after their failure with the doctor. Armin had spotted it. The people inside had been extremely nice and understanding. They had helped Annie and Armin find a doctor who would also be just as understanding. Annie had had her first ultrasound. She was eight weeks along.

She had had a breakdown in the car, crying. Annie’s worry had been that maybe there was some secret in her past that had made her parents give her up. An underlying health condition was her worry that she would pass down to her child. She wondered if her parents were alive or dead.

But Armin had reassured her. He had stopped and got her favorite fast food...which she surprisingly had kept down.

“I’ll be fine,” Annie reassured him.

“Don’t worry, Arlert, she’s got the best care anyone could ask for right here,” Ymir grinned as she flung her arm around Annie’s shoulders.

“Oh. I know. Wouldn’t leave her with anyone but family,” Armin smiled.

“Have a safe drive back,” Mikasa told him before pulling on Ymir’s sleeve.

“Thanks, Mikasa,” Armin nodded.

“Yeah, don’t die on us Arlert. You’re the father of my future best friend,” Ymir said before following Mikasa into the kitchen.

“Are you going to be here this weekend?” Armin asked Eren.

“Dunno yet,” he shrugged.

“Well, Annie is letting me borrow her car. You’re what….a half hour from my university? I can swing by if you want….” Armin trailed off.

“I’ll see. We just added Pieck to the band so rehearsal and stuff.”

Armin nodded.

Eren hugged him which Armin happily returned back. Eren nodded before going into the kitchen.

“You’re sure you want me to take the car?” Armin asked her.

Annie nodded.

“I’m a phone call away,” he reassured her.

She nodded again.

He kissed her.

A kiss that was far too short for either of them.

“Drive safe,” she told him.

He nodded again before leaving out the front door.

Moments later, Mikasa appeared with Ymir and Eren in tow.

"Let's see the ultrasound!" Ymir exclaimed.

Levi came in and brought Annie a cup of tea that he place on the coffee table.

Annie couldn’t help but smile.

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

Pieck Finger has been Zeke Yeager’s best friend for far too long of a time. They loved each other. They had amazing chemistry with one another onstage when they had previously played together. This issue was that chemistry was all an act.

Pieck’s mother wanted that chemistry to be more than an act. Oh, how Mrs. Finger wished for Pieck to marry Zeke. She thought that Pieck and Zeke were the perfect match.

There was a problem with all this.

Neither of them had any romantic feelings for one another.

The two had lived next door to one another when they were children. Pieck always bothered Zeke, he would be reading and she’d make him read to her. He had a very hard time saying no to her, even back then.

They had kissed once, when Pieck had been twenty one and Zeke had twenty six.

“Can I kiss you?” she had asked him.

Zeke had dropped the cigarette he had been smoking.

“What the fuck, Pieck?”

“It’s just...well...I was starting to wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

“Are you on drugs? Are you drunk? Maybe you should come to my psych class and get your head examined,” he said before he patted her on the head.

“My mom is always saying how we make a good match so I thought we could see if anything there.”

“Didn’t your mom think you should marry Porco at one point too?”

“Yes, well, I did kiss him too. It felt weird.”

“Did you kiss Marcel too?”

“Hmm...no, I prefer blondes. Besides, you’re thinking about what it would be like to kiss me right now too.”

“Well yeah! Now that you brought it up,” Zeke said as he began to turn red.

“So can I kiss you?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s the worst that can happen?” Zeke said before he leaned down

Pieck kissed him.

While the kiss itself was nice, there was absolutely no emotion behind it on either side.

It didn’t last very long.

“Huh, well...” Pieck said, after a moment of silence.

“Nothing?” Zeke asked.

Pieck nodded, “nothing.”

“Are we going to make this weird now?” he asked her.

“No, I won’t. I don’t know about you.”

“Why would I make it weird?”

“You make everything weird.”

After that, their friendship did indeed stay intact. Neither of them made anything weird about it.

Pieck and Zeke both used the fact that they had kissed to run off Yelena when the woman had not got the hint that her relationship with Zeke was over last year.

Pieck had come over to go over some of the more popular songs that the band played.

Onstage and at rehearsal, Pieck could flirt with Zeke and both of them knew it was an act.

Besides, he deserved it.

He would get bored at the office when he had no patients and come bother Pieck at her photography studio. She felt no guilt about her little act since Zeke knew it was also an act.

In a break between songs, they had sat their instruments to the side.

“So, how many times has he texted you?” He teased her.

“Not answering that,” Pieck replied as she sat down on the couch.

“You know...he is friends with Eren…”

Pieck rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”

“Because he’s five years younger than me and it should have never happened.”

“Which time?” Zeke teased her before he sat down next to her on the couch.

“And you wonder why I don’t talk about these things with you,” she elbowed him.

“Ow! Look, you clearly like him which is why you always text him back. I do not see what the big deal is. There’s five years between us too, you know. You are still my best friend.”

“Too bad you’re not mine,” Pieck said as she stood up.

“You wound me, Pieck!” He clutched his chest in pain.

“Good, you deserve it,” Pieck said as she walked over to her bass, she turned her amp up. She picked it up and played a few notes.

“It’s the Galliard brothers, isn’t it? They are your best friends while I’m left all alone in the cold! Because they live with you and I do not!” He shouted over the music.

So they went back to Zeke teaching Pieck the songs. Afterwards, they had dinner at Zeke’s with Zeke ordering takeout. Pieck was sipping on wine.

“Alright, Spill the details,” Zeke said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

Pieck sighed, “where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning is always good,” Zeke smirked.

“Ugh. Fine…”

And Pieck launched into her story.

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

Zeke had a gig tonight and Pieck should have been there.

She wanted to be there.

But no.

Her mother insisted on her coming to this charity event. It was the same cancer that her father had recovered from so she understood the sentiment.

Porco was drunk off his ass, trying to chat up some random blonde. Pieck scoffed at him. He had a type as much as she did.

Reiner was waiting tables. His mother had done the catering here.

Pieck was absolutely bored out of her mind.

So she found Reiner alone.

"Lighter, cigarette, please," she smiled at him.

Reiner sighed before handing them over.

Pieck disappeared out onto the balcony.

The cold air hit her as she lit her cigarette. So she stood there smoking and swirling cheap champagne in its glass.

Then the door opened.

She turned to see a rather good looking man. He stared at her for a moment before he moved to the other side of her. He looked at her and then back down to the ground.

"Are you lost?" She asked him after a moment.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you?"

She took another drag as she cocked her head to the side. "Do you dye your hair?"

"What? No. Do you?"

She laughed.

"Why does everyone ask me that?"

"Because it's two toned."

“It’s just because my roots are darker than the rest of my hair! It’s always grown like that!”

Pieck was amused by his protests. “So what girl rejected you?” She asked, poking the bear once more.

“What?”

“I’m guessing you don’t smoke. You seem too straight edged for that. You’re clearly not drunk. So that leaves only a few possibilities. Plus judging from your overall body language and how easily you are to anger, you must have been rejected,” Pieck replied as she took another drag from her cigarette.

“I..I…” he shuttered.

“Point made. See you around,” she replied as she put her cigarette out in the ashtray before heading back inside.

It was several weeks before it was another charity event.

Pieck wasn’t even sure what this cause was, she hadn’t been paying attention as her mother had rambled on.

Zeke was here tonight but only for a few hours. Pieck clung to him as it kept her mother far away. Her father had told her mother many times so just let Pieck and Zeke be. However, her mother lived in a fantasy where Zeke and Pieck would one day get married.

“Take me with you,” she pleaded as Zeke got his coat from the coat check.

“I cannot help but think if I take you with me, your mother will be given false hope. I am only leaving because Eren has physical therapy early in the morning. Besides, were you not just saying moments ago how you wanted to hook up with someone? You cannot do that if you are sitting on my couch eating mint chocolate ice cream and crying over old movies while getting drunk on wine.”

“You know what? I changed my mind. Leave,” she said as she pushed Zeke towards the exit.

He laughed at her as he pulled his coat on. “Alright, bye Pieck. I will see you for lunch tomorrow,” he replied before he kissed her on the cheek.

Pieck kicked him directly in his ass as he walked out the door. “I’m not your child!”

“Then stop acting like it!” he shouted back.

What a strange relationship they had.

This charity gala was more boring than the last one.

She found herself sitting on the steps, awaiting valet to bring her her car. She saw the blonde stranger she had run into on the balcony at the prior party, walking up to valet and digging through the keys.

“You being valet...no wonder you got rejected,” she teased him.

“I’m not valet. I’m just not waiting for my car,” he replied.

“Let me guess, you drive some economically safe car. It probably plugs in and everything.”

“I really don’t like you. I shouldn’t be surprised. Any girlfriend of Zeke Jaeger’s is someone I’m going to steer clear of.”

“I’m not dating Zeke Jaeger.”

“Okay, I believe you,” he said as he finally grasped the keys he had been looking for.

“So what if I was? Are you jealous?”

The stranger laughed, “dream on. What could I possibly be jealous of?”

“He’s very good looking and doesn’t get rejected nearly as much as you do. By the way, the lipstick stain on your cheek is not your color.”

The valet drove up and Pieck got into her car.

The third time they met, Pieck had been the only one of her friends at the charity event.

Her mother and father weren’t even here. So here Pieck was, representing the whole Finger family on her own.

She had made sure to talk to all the important people as she made her rounds around the room. Until finally, she stepped out on the balcony with the cigarettes she had swiped from Zeke earlier in the day.

To her surprise, the balcony was already occupied. She watched as the blonde stranger made out with a blonde girl. Pieck lit up her cigarette. She wondered why she kept running into him.

“Don’t stop on my account. Nice to see you not get rejected for once,” she replied as she pushed passed them and to the other end of the wrap around balcony, far out of the view of the two lovers.

There was this tinge of jealousy that ate at Pieck. She equaled it to the fact she hadn’t had any sexual or romantic exploits in a while.

So she stood there and smoked.

But what she hadn’t been expecting was for her blonde stranger to come storming over there.

“Why do you have to do that?” he asked her as he swiped the cigarette from her hand.

She stared back at him in disbelief. “Do what?”

“Ruin my night. Every time,” he replied before he took a drag.

Pieck waited for the inevitable cough that came with most people trying to smoke when they hadn’t. It never came. Maybe she had judged him wrong.

“Already done with the blonde?” she asked.

“Turns out she’s not really my type.”

“So what is your type?”

“Do you care?”

“Not really but I’m bored.”

Jean sighed, “Someone who challenges me and I prefer dark hair.”

Pieck didn’t miss the fact that there seemed to be a bit of red darkening his cheeks.

“I prefer blondes,” she replied as she rested her arms on the balcony.

“That’s interesting,” he muttered.

Pieck felt a smile cross her face as she turned and looked at him. “I’m Pieck, by the way.”

“Jean,” he replied.

And they just stood there in the silence of the night.

Pieck would have been lying if she said that at the next charity event she hadn’t been looking for Jean.

Maybe she had put a little extra effort into her look for the night and maybe she had watched as the groups of people come and go.

And she would be lying if she said that when they did find one another, her heart didn’t speed up a little.

“You want to get out of here?” he asked in a low quiet voice.

She had nodded and the two of them ran past valet and into the parking garage. She had sent Porco a text telling him she had left and not to wait for her. He had replied with a winky face.

There was nothing economically smart about Jean’s car. It was expensive, fast, and a manual. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to drive this thing around in the summer with the convertible top down. Why was she thinking that? This was a one time thing.

And they were good until they hit the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, Pieck wasn’t sure who had made the move first. She just knew he was so ridiculously tall and his hands were tangled in her hair. How his lips made her feel she was high and couldn’t get enough of this.

Then the elevator dinged, telling them that they had arrived on their desired floor. They broke apart but Jean took Pieck’s hand, leading her towards his apartment.

“My roommate is gone for tonight,” he informed her as he unlocked the door. Once the door was locked behind them, the scene from the elevator repeated.

Pieck told herself the next day that it had been a one time thing.

It wasn’t repeating.

But with another charity event came another chance meeting,

So it repeated.

Then they exchanged numbers.

They started talking, almost like friends.

It was nothing more than sex, she reminded herself and him.

“Now I see why you never bring a guy back here. Your insides were clearly getting moved all around last night,” Porco had smirked at breakfast.

Pieck poured a box of cereal on his head. “You were supposed to be gone.”

“I forgot my charger. Also, you’re buying me more cereal.”

But Porco was right. Pieck had never brought someone back to the apartment.

The more Pieck and Jean talked, the more they realized the things they had in common. He was an artist, like her. Though it was not something he was pursuing, the talent was still there.

“You have paint on your face,” she told him as he sat next to her in the photography studio on the floor.

He wiped her face, only smearing the paint instead of cleaning it off. “Did I get it?” he asked.

“No, you made it worse,” she laughed at him.

He grabbed her face and rubbed his face against her face.

“Your beard is scratchy!” she shouted.

“Thought you liked my beard,” he smirked as he let go. “Especially when it’s against….”

She didn’t let him finish that sentence.

Her lips were on his, silencing him for once. She leaned back pulling him with her as her back hit the floor, never once losing contact as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

There was a clearing of a throat.

Pieck and Jean quickly separated as Zeke was seen leaning in the doorway, smirking.

And that's how it all began.

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

“So what you are saying is you met someone who can hold his own against you but you will not actually be in a relationship with him?” Zeke asked.

“He doesn’t want one either!” Pieck defended herself.

Zeke sighed, “you know this is not going to end well. For either of you.”

“It will be fine. We both know it’s nothing but sex.”

“Pieck, I know that look in your eyes. I have seen it before.”

“With who? I’ve never done relationships,” Pieck said before she took another drink of her wine. “Besides, you said that was fine as long as everyone involved understood it.”

“The problem is...I do not think you understand it.”

Pieck glared at him. “It’s nothing but sex.”

“And when this blows up in your face, I will be here to tell you I told you so.”

“And this is why I didn’t tell you all about this.”

“You did not have to. I walked in on it.”

"Where is Eren by the way?" Pieck asked as she swirled her wine around in her glass.

"At Levi's. Mikasa's father's birthday is Wednesday. He asked if he could stay until after that. I could not deny that request. He has finally stop being fucking stupid. Though now you are. So maybe it is contagious.."

"Hey!"

"I hope Niccolo does not catch it. That will be another mess…."

"I'm going to have another glass of wine and take over your bed if you do not stop."

"I have a whole third story to this house and you have to always kick me out of my bed."

"That I do. Besides, no one goes up there.".

Zeke sighed.

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

When Historia and Sasha returned from work, they both loved the new cars that sat in the driveway.

“Oh! You can finally drive me everywhere!” Historia exclaimed with a smile as she held on Ymir’s arm.

“You’re not mad?” Ymir asked her.

“Why would I be mad? I miss my car, yes but I took the limo everywhere I could. I hate having to always drive.”

Ymir sighed, “you’re spoiled.”

“And that’s why you love me! Now take me for a drive in this thing!”

So Ymir, Sasha, and Historia went out in Ymir’s new car.

That left Eren and Mikasa alone with Levi, Annie, and the dogs at the house.

Mikasa watched as Eren flipped through her old lyrics journal.

"There's a lot of good lyrics in here," he smiled at her.

"Thanks," she replied before looking down.

Eren reading those lyrics were like him reading into her soul. She'd never let him have the whole lyric journal to look through. Some songs were half started and never finished.

An unfinished song….

"Watch the flash drive with me," she said.

Eren's eyes met hers. He swallowed. He opened his mouth before quickly shutting it.

"What….what if you hate me afterwards?"

The question caught Mikasa so off guard. She didn't know how to even begin to respond to that.

"Or worse, what if you hate what I did to the song?"

"I won't," she reassured him before reaching across the bed. She took one of his hands off of the old lyric journal that he was holding and held it.

He squeezed her hand.

He was terrified.

Mikasa had seen Eren afraid before but not like this. Not to the point where he looked like he wanted to run.

"You said I should listen to it. I know you said when you weren't around but you're reading my lyrics. My feelings for you all the way back then. Shouldn't I be able to see how you thought of me?" She asked.

Eren nodded. "You're right."

"And it's probably better to do it right now while it's only us, Levi, Annie, and the dogs here."

Eren nodded again.

"So I'll go ask Levi for it."

Mikasa left.

Eren's nerves are slowly taking him over. It's not like there is anything bad in the song. He wasn't even sure why he sent it. He didn't even know that she was here.

He had ordered the delivery person to make sure to only let Mikasa sign for the package. If she didn't, Eren wanted it back in his possession.

And he hadn't expected her to be there at all.

But she had been.

The song had been a last ditch effort by Eren.

For what?

He wasn't sure.

He heard footsteps retreating down the hall.

A few moments later, Mikasa returned with both the flash drive and letter in hand.

"Give me that," he said as he held his hand. Mikasa handed him the letter.

"Dear Mikasa,

I hope this find you well. The last year has been absolute hell. My drinking finally caught up with me like you always said it would. They took a large portion of my liver. I found out that I'm actually bipolar too. Who knew? I don't even know what this is. I broke your heart a year ago.

I broke everything.

Including myself.

With hope of avoiding hurting you like my dad did my mom, I lost everything.

This isn't a plea for you to come back. It's not even a plea to forgive.

I guess I just want you to understand.

I hope you find someone who treats you right and deserves you. I wish you nothing but happiness. You really do deserve it.

The flash drive in the box included is a song you played for me long ago. I used my band and the video recording I had of you to make it. I made it in garage band so it's nothing fancy.

Love always,

Eren ," Eren read out loud before he held the letter out to Mikasa.

Mikasa pulled her laptop off the desk and onto the bed. She opened the box to see a black flash drive inside. She pulled it out of the box and inserted into the usb port on the side.

The window popped up on the screen.

She clicked on the file.

It was a video.

“I thought you said you used garage band to make it,” she said as she looked over at him.

“Yeah, to make the audio. The video is just at the beginning,” he said before he looked down.

“Okay,” she replied before pressing play.

The video began.

#mmtylif #my writing

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jemej3m · 5 years ago

Text

a comprehensive set of rules (part 1)

light and breezy!! (this is not a b99 au)

this is...long.

plot?????? what?????????

January:

“So you’re telling me,” Aaron repeated. “You’re pretty sure this guy is into some organised crime shit?”

Andrew made a noise, rolling over on his bed to press the phone between his ear and the pillow. Usually their calls were short and succinct, as was tradition ever since they departed from college - Andrew heading to Baltimore for policing academy and Aaron to Chicago for med-school - with Aaron doing most of the talking and Andrew occasionally humming in response.

Tonight Andrew was riddled with questions. Usually his moral compass was simple and easy to adhere to, but this was - to put it mildly - fucked. He didn’t care about authority, or loyalty to his police oath, but he couldn’t just screw a guy whilst suspecting him of murder. Or whatever Neil had gotten himself into.

You can’t talk, his own brain reminded him, so kindly, so gently. He made a scathing noise and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“A woman tried to kill him and talked shit about his family. You should’ve seen how bone-white he went at his father’s mention.”

“So - you’re just going to excuse him? On the basis of what, an inclination to murder is genetic?”

Sometimes it was genetic. Andrew almost laughed. Aaron heard the irony in his own words, too and grumbled out a low ‘Shut up.’

“He said he couldn’t date a cop, anyway.” Not that Andrew was interested in dating.

It did appear as though he and Neil was very incompatible: Neil didn’t do sex and relationships, was criminally inclined and had yet to text him since their disaster of a second date.

Andrew was only emotionally ready enough for casual sex, one-night-stands and loveless hookups, and didn’t exactly know whether or not he could ignore Neil’s background, seeing as every day he went in to work and interrogated perps with gang tattoos and blood still drying on their hands.

And yet.

Andrew still wanted to see Neil. See he was alright. Talk to him. Spend time with him. Andrew still wanted to try and set something up, something that’d benefit both of them, maybe a way that Neil could escape from his current life, a way for Andrew to get invaluable knowledge.

Andrew still wanted to try and have something with Neil. Not romantic. Not a relationship, or sex, or even friendship.

Just - something.

“That’s that, then.” Aaron said, unhelpful. “Nicky was all screechy about it on the phone. Said that the guy was cute. I bet he has no clue.”

“No,” Andrew agreed, making a mental note to check out ‘Allison’ and ensure his cousin was safe. “No clue at all.” He sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt we’ll ever see each other again.”

February:

“Shit,” Andrew muttered as coffee dribbled down his vest. The taser tucked into its pocket made an odd sound, as though it were drowning or something. He fished it out and sighed: Kevin, another fresh-faced detective who seemed to think he had the right to criticise Andrew’s every move, wouldn’t let this go. Andrew seemed to always be needing new equipment, so much so that Kevin had decided to photocopy the request forms and pin them snootily to Andrew’s desk.

Andrew hated Kevin. Renee had forced him to be civil, though, and he trusted his partner enough to listen to her advice.

“Didn’t see you there,” came a familiar voice. Andrew’s head snapped up: canvasing the truly miraculous sight that stood before him. “So sorry.”

Neil’d had his haircut since Andrew had last seen him, but he bore purple shadows under his eyes, his skin pale and sickly. A hood was drawn up, the sweater too large on Neil’s wiry frame. His jeans were loose too. He was far from the well-dressed bad idea Andrew had gone on two dates with, just over two months prior.

“Come into this cafe, officer,” Neil said, voice flat. “There’s a bathroom.” With that, he spun on his heel and marched back into the coffee-shop that he had no doubt been waiting outside of for Andrew to pass by.

Andrew followed silently, ignoring the lukewarm coffee that was dripping down his chest. There was a tiny bathroom with two cubicles, of which Neil somehow had the key for. He spun around and leant against the door, eyes dark.

“Neil,” Andrew said. “What the fuck?”

“I can’t be seen with you, or talking to you,” he managed, voice slightly raw. “Things are - not great, right now. I’m sorry I vanished.”

“You have to give me context,” Andrew insisted, stepping closer. “What the hell is going on?”

Neil shut his eyes. “If I promise you that I’ll explain everything, afterwards, will you help me?”

“I take my promises seriously,” Andrew warned.

Neil nodded weakly, wringing his fingers. “I know.”

Andrew sighed, taking some paper towel from next to the sink and patting himself dry. “What’s happening?”

Neil swallowed. “My father’s going to court, based on charges of tax evasion and money laundering.”

Andrew gestured for him to continue.

Neil hung his head. “I’m going to usurp him, him and his closest allies. I need a cop I can filter information through to, so that they can be locked up permanently. All five of them.”

“Someone once told me that they’d never be safe unless the threat was dead,” Andrew said, voice low. “You can’t fool me into thinking you just want them in jail.”

Neil had the audacity to look surprised, like maybe he thought Andrew wouldn’t remember. He’d learn to assume Andrew knew everything soon enough. “He has enough enemies that it’ll be taken care of, for me. Honest enough for you, officer?”

Andrew straightened out. “And when he and his crooks are gone? What then?”

Neil’s smile was almost sad. "Then I will take his place.”

“You could dismantle it entirely,” Andrew argued. “You don’t have to follow his footsteps.”

Neil just shook his head. “There are higher powers at work, Andrew. It’s my legacy: I have no choice." He in a shuddering breath. “If I could abandon it all, I would. I don’t want this life. I don’t want his name, or his smile, or his bloodthirst. I don’t.”

“Neil,” Andrew warned.

The man squeezed his eyes shut. “You know I watched him kill my mom? She didn’t want this life either. He was going to kill me too. Maybe he should have.”

“Neil.”

Andrew had the man’s chin pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He opened his eyes.

“I’ll help you,” Andrew said, against better judgement. “Tell me your name and I’ll help you.”

Neil’s swallow was constricted, weighted. He took out a tiny slip of paper and tucked it into Andrew’s pocket. “I'm still Neil.” His inhale was desperate. “I am still Neil.”

Andrew nodded slightly, stepping back and watching as the man unlocked the door and slipped out.

Slowly - carefully - Andrew unfolded the little piece of paper.

It was a business card, the logo embossed into the paper.

Nathan Wesninski and Co. it read, accented with gold.

March:

“How the fuck...” Dan said, flicking through the file. She, Wymack and Renee all sat opposite Andrew, peering over his work with trepidation.

Under a strictly Need-To-Know policy, Kevin was excluded for his previous ties to Riko Moriyama, who was the son of a yakuza boss (though that was not widely known). Matt was excluded on the basis of too many mouths to control, though Dan would probably fill him in. Seth was excluded because he sucked and Andrew hated him. That left his partner, his captain and his sergeant, all of whom were mildly shocked that Andrew had picked up such a large and intricate case independently.

“How did you find all this?” Dan demanded, recoiling from the contents of his file. Beside the many photographs laid a dried chunk of flesh in a sealed bag, of which DNA tests would confirm to be Mary Wesninski’s, who vanished over 14 years ago. Neil said he’d cut it from the branching aorta of his mother’s heart, of which his father kept in a small container, alongside her tongue and eyes, seeing as his father would miss a whole organ, but not a chunk of the underside. He didn’t get his name the Butcher for nothing.

“Unless we have a weapon, or something with prints that connects Wesninski to that-” Wymack pointed to the piece of Mary’s heart. “It’s still circumstantial without your CI coming forward as a witness.”

“They will die,” Andrew said calmly. “I’ll keep working for a connection, but nothing about my CI gets published. Nothing.”

“Okay,” Renee agreed, smiling warmly as she rounded the table. She waited for his nod to drop a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles of warmth. “We’ll figure something out, Andrew.”

“I can’t believe we have a chance against Wesninski,” Wymack muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Not yet, we don’t.” Dan reminded him.

Not yet, Andrew agreed.

April:

Neil walked a slow circle around Andrew’s apartment, eyeing the windows and doors, the fire escape, the kettle, probably even the fucking toilet paper. Andrew watched as he toed off his shoes, pulled his sweater sleeves over his hands and finally joined Andrew in the living room.

“Got bored of figuring out the best point of exit?”

Neil scowled, settling on the couch beside him. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, yours wasn’t exactly an option, was it?”

Neil just drew his knees up to his chin, curling into a small ball on the couch. “The trial’s been set for late September.”

“I know,” Andrew agreed.

“You haven’t brought any evidence to the prosecutor yet.”

“I haven’t.”

“Was what I gave not good enough?”

“No,” Andrew grimaced. “A chunk of Mary’s heart tells us she’s dead. Without prints, or a weapon, or DNA evidence surrounding her body, there’s no way to connect Nathan to her death.”

Neil winced, teeth biting into his lip. The minute rocking back and forth was beginning to get on Andrew’s nerves. “I can’t...I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Andrew insisted. “We solve crimes for a living. There’s always an answer.”

Neil scoffed, body still shaking. “You’re probably aware of 20% of what goes on in this city.”

“So tell me the other 80.”

Neil stared.

Andrew gestured vaguely. “The different gangs, the territory lines, shoot outs and brandings and who’s having an affair with who. I don’t care. Just talk.”

“What good is gossip?” Neil wondered aloud.

“You’d be surprised,” Andrew said lightly, like this wasn’t completely for Neil’s benefit. He needed to get Neil out of his head. It looked like the man hadn’t sleep in weeks, his nails bitten down to the quick and body stiff with bandages. The fact that Andrew couldn’t help him much more than this - at least not now - was putting him through the wringer.

“Fine,” Andrew huffed when Neil wasn’t forthcoming, getting off the couch. From under the TV he grasped a random DVD and shoved it into the player that Nicky had bought for him a few years ago.

“What’s this?” Neil blinked, owlishly.

Andrew just dropped back down onto the couch. “Do you trust me?”

Neil looked at him, eyes narrowed.

Andrew reached out to push the long fringe away from Neil’s eyes. “Neil, do you trust me?”

“I...” he looked down to his hands. They slowly curled into fists. “I want to.”

Andrew tilted his chin up with the tip of his finger. For a moment there was nothing else, just blue and gold and fate and future. “Then believe me when I say I will find a way.”

Slowly, Neil nodded.

May:

“Dimaccio, Plank, and the Romero siblings,” Andrew leant on the table with his fists, the fies splayed out around them. “We lock them up, one by one. Nathan loses his circle, loses his security. He’ll put out the wrong foot without anyone else to fall back on.”

“Who should we start with, then?” Wymack inquired, letting Andrew steer this investigation down to the very last report signature.

Andrew arched an eyebrow, momentarily recalling the jagged scars on the inside of Neil’s elbows.

“She’d wanted to cut my tendons, once,” he said, before yanking down the sleeves again.

“Ladies first,” he told Wymack, picking up the photo of Lola Malcom and pinning it right into the centre of their case-board.

June:

Dimaccio snarled as he was lead away in shackles, hair shaved close to his skull. He was probably double Andrew’s height and width and had three police escorts shoving him into the back of a wagon. Across the back of his hand had been the characteristic X, the one Neil bore, the one Lola had worn too.

Two down, three to go, Andrew thought, something like pride grinning wolfishly within his chest. These were only the bail hearings: proper convictions wouldn’t be till the new year. It didn’t matter: so long as they were locked up, Andrew could move forward. Wymack stood beside him, thumbs hooked into his belt loops.

“Nice work, kiddo,” the chief acknowledged, shaking out a cigarette and gesturing to the exit. Andrew followed.

Leaning against the courthouse’s sandstone exterior, Andrew stared up into the cloudless sky with an accusatory squint, till Wymack nudged him.

“Your phone’s ringing,” he muttered, cigarette drooping with ever syllable.

Andrew fished out the burner that he always kept tucked into his back pocket. He flicked it open immediately: there was only one person who had this number.

“Andrew,” Neil panted. “Thank god. Okay. Hi.”

“N -” Andrew glanced at Wymack before turning away. “What’s going on?”

“The chances of me being able to contact you from now on will be slim to none: with two of them gone, I have to step in.”

“Christ,” Andrew muttered, stubbing out his cigarette. “Where are you now?”

“Bathroom,” Neil muttered. “Some stupid event thing for his business front. I’m not who matters right now. Do you have family that’s traceable to you? A next of kin?”

“You’ve met Nicky and Erik,” Andrew said, suddenly cold all over. “My twin and his wife live in Chicago.”

“They should be alright,” Neil murmured. “But Nicky and Erik have to go. Can they win a flight overseas? I’ll wire you through money if you need it -”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sort it out.”

“You need to be careful,” Neil insisted. “He’s going to come after you. That’s twice your name’s been on the front of the arrest records. I’ve sorted something out, okay?”

“Forgive me if that sounds less that appealing.”

Neil laughed weakly. “It’s not a pretty solution, but it’ll work. You have to keep working, and if I can’t keep interacting with you without blowing this whole thing over, then our only choice is...”

“Allison,” Andrew muttered. “Jesus Christ.”

Neil hummed in agreement. “She’ll pick you up from yours in an hour. Be ready.”

“How does she know where I live?”

“Like she doesn’t track my every move, Minyard. She’s my accomplice. Gotta go, now. He’ll get suspicious.”

Something twisted in Andrew’s throat. “Stay safe.”

Neil paused, then mumbled “You too,” and disconnected the call.

Wymack was watching him with an arched brow.

Andrew shrugged. “My CI’s quick.”

“Unpredictable asshole,” his boss muttered, shooing him off with a derisive flick of his fingers. Andrew saluted him as he departed, before twisting on his heel and jogging back to his car.

“Guest room, guest bathroom, living room, kitchen, blah, blah.” Allison waved her hand around emphatically, her manicured nails glittering with rhinestones and pearls. They were probably real, if her apartment was anything to go by.

Everything was white, grey or pink, aside from the dark-oak parquetry on her floors. The marble countertops were polished to sparkle, every device in her kitchen practically unused. It was Nicky’s dream penthouse.

“It pays to murder, doesn’t it?” Andrew wondered when he’d inherited Neil’s loose tongue.

The look Allison gave him was withering. “I don’t murder. I clean up.”

“Because complacency is so much better than participation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe Nicky didn’t tell me you were a fucking cop. Would’ve never set you up on a date if I knew.”

“I’m going to have his father in max security by the end of the year,” Andrew reminded her. “Don’t make me abandon the case.”

She grinned. “You wouldn’t. He’s got you wrapped around his finger.” At Andrew’s glare, she waved him off. “Don’t worry: he’s just like that. I never said that I ain’t wrapped around his finger too. It’s impossible to not want to shield him away, wrap him in copious amounts of blankets, kiss his forehead and tell him it’ll be okay. I tried it once,” she grimaced. “It didn’t work.”

Andrew didn’t picture Neil, a mobster’s son, wrapped in blankets on Andrew’s couch, smiling (genuinely) as Andrew pressed a kiss to the corner of his eye. He did not picture that. He did not.

“For what it’s worth,” Allison said, in a voice softer than Andrew thought she was capable of as she looked out the enormous windows that overlooked Baltimore’s busiest district. “I’m glad he trusts you. And I’m glad you’re helping us.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Reynolds,” he pointed at her in warning. “I’ll lock you up too, if you give me a reason to.”

Her laugh was pearlescent, her grin cat-like. “Neil would scalp you before you could even say my full name. Don’t forget, Minyard,” she winked. “I’ve got him wrapped around my finger, too.”

this will continue in p.2 with july-december!! after that we’ll go back to our regularly scheduled softness and humour. i’ve already got another one-shot planned around kevin and neil.... :D

#andreil #mobster/cop au #pre-slash #plot!!!!!! what??????#neil josten #andrew minyard #butcher!neil #cop!andrew #p.1 #allison reynolds #david wymack #cop!foxes #this was getting too long i had to cut it half way #all for the game #aftg #im so gay for allison can u tell #jem writes

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

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What a Wicked Game {12/15}

Killian met her in a pub on a rainy night in March. Going inside was only supposed to be a way for him to avoid the rain and fight off the demons in his head. It was a place for him to pass through, not stay. But then he was charmed by a blonde woman with a quick wit who had absolutely no interest in him or who he was.

That was a first. It was also the beginning of Emma Nolan helping to bring him back to life. It was the beginning of everything.

Five years later, with their worlds crumbling around them, Killian can’t help but wonder if this is the end of the peace they have known now that his family knows about his relationship. It wouldn’t be a problem if his father wasn’t the King of England.

rating: mature

a/n: thank you to the mods at @captainswanbigbang for running this event and helping to encourage writers to finish their wonderful stories, to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading all these words, and to @captainsjedi for making the beautiful artwork ❤️

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

-/-

October 19th, 2018

October dawns bright and warm, but as it settles in, the warmth disappears into a chill and the brightness of the sky turns to the gray for which London is often known. Leaves are still in the midst of changing colors, from a dull green to vibrant oranges and reds that contrast the sky, and Emma finds herself staring out the large window in Killian’s bedroom to look at the leaves falling from a tree and drifting through the air until they eventually land on the edge of the roof. It’s been seven weeks since she slept in her own bed and had her parents just down the hall from her, and as weird as it’s been, she’s thankful for this.

She’s thankful that every day she is actively making the choice to be with Killian and to work at adjusting to all of the complications that come with this life.

It’s more than a lot, but as she looks down at her arm and sees it without the ugly white plaster and stretches her arms above her head without any pain, Emma reminds herself that time and a little extra care can heal things. The immediate reaction and pain doesn’t stay. It changes and lessens. Her body is healing, her heart too, and the darkness that surrounded her for all of August seems to have almost been extinguished.

Nothing about this has been easy, but Emma doesn’t want to retreat back and walk away again. She still believes that her reasons were sound, that she had to do it in order to take care of herself and protect her heart, and in a weird way, coming out on the other side has made her thankful for it.

Getting into a car crash and possibly almost dying because photographers wanted a picture of her sitting in a car after they found out about she and Killian’s breakup wasn’t great. She could have done without that. She still could. And she definitely won’t be getting in a car on a rainy night anytime soon.

Her physical scars may be lessening, most of them non-existent now, but she’s not ready for that. She’s not ready for a lot of things, but when has she ever been?

“Darling,” Killian calls out, and she gets a little smile on her face at how much his accent thickens on that word, “do you know where my solid navy tie is? It should be with all of the others, but I can’t find it.”

“Where did you last see it?”

“If I bloody well knew that, I wouldn’t be asking where it is.”

He pokes his head out of the bathroom before walking outside and finishing the buttons on his dress shirt. He looks handsome today in his navy pants and light blue dress shirt, and she really doesn’t see why he needs to wear a tie when he looks fine without it. Royal dress code or something. She doesn’t know. Over the past few weeks as she’s isolated herself in Killian’s apartment at Kensington or wandered over to Liam and Elsa’s to spend time with Elsa, she’s found herself going through guidebooks that Elsa had made when she got engaged to Liam. There are all these rules and regulations from how to cross your legs to what nail polish she’s supposed to wear, and while Emma thinks a lot of it is bullshit, it’s the territory that comes with being in this relationship.

Emma will paint her nails ballet slipper pink and cross her legs at the ankle every damn day if that’s what it takes. What she won’t do is be suffocated by the press and by Brennan.

What she won’t do is make Killian leave his family and break his mom’s heart simply because she couldn’t handle the pressure.

If he wants to leave, if it is truly his decision outside of her, she’s more than happy for them to live their lives in a simpler way where Killian doesn’t have to worry about where his solid navy tie is. Leaving may be in their future, but they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it.

But if they’re staying and doing this, she wants to make the best out of the situation. She wants to work with charities that help empower women and children. She wants to do that for men too, to educate them on the intricacies over an ever-changing world. She wants to do good and be good. This family is insane, the money and the traditions and the vault full of actual tiaras like something out of a movie, but they can use their privilege to do good.

Emma knows what it’s like to not have this kind of privilege, and now she may be in a position to help.

“Cool down, Casanova. No need to get all snippy over your tie. Where are you even going today?”

“The opening of a hospital wing and then I’m meeting with a slew of new security guards to interview.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Killian arches a brow. “Haven’t you spent enough time in hospitals lately?”

“I meant to the interviews, dumbass. Isn’t this for my security, too?”

Killian fidgets with the neck of his shirt, buttoning and then unbuttoning it so that black tufts of chest hair show. “Aye, but I figured I’d go through the candidates first, and then you could meet the top few to see which ones you’re most comfortable with.”

“I can come with you. It’s really not a big deal. I don’t have any plans for the day.”

“Swan, it’s fine. I promise.” Killian walks over to her and sits down on the edge of the bed next to her before taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth. “This is a dreadfully boring process, and my father is unfortunately going to be there for some of it, though I’ll likely leave the room when he does his own interviews. I don’t - after August, he’s convinced that I can’t pick out my own security team.”

“August was...I mean, he was selling information about us because his dad is sick and can’t afford the surgeries and medication back in America. He was willing to risk prison to save his dad. That’s not something you could have predicted.”

A part of Emma understands the words she’s telling Killian, but the other part of her wants to punch August’s fucking teeth out for making her life hell and inadvertently causing her crash.

“You’ve met Brennan. You know how he can be. I could do everything perfectly, but one screw up that’s outside of my control, and I’m incompetent.”

“Your dad sucks.”

Killian leans his head back with his laugh before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her knuckles once more. “In three words, you’ve managed to sum up quite a bit of my life.”

“I’m magical like that.”

“That you are, my love. That you are.” Killian sighs and blinks at her a few times. She thinks he’s going to say something to her, but then there’s a slight shake of his head and she knows the moment has passed. “Give me a little more time, and I swear I’ll talk to him. Seriously. He and I may never get along, but that’s okay. I simply need him to publicly accept you and to sign off on all of these protection measures for you.”

“Killian, you know you don’t have to do - ”

“No, I do. I will do everything I can to protect you, and if that means I have to have an actual conversation with my father where I don’t leave the room until I get what I want, I will. We’ve missed so much time not talking and not taking action. I don’t want to miss any more.”

Emma leans forward and presses her mouth to Killian’s cheek. “I love you. You should wear the white and navy striped tie instead of the solid one.”

He raises his hand to his forehead as he stands from the bed. “Aye, that’s a good idea.”

“And babe?”

“Yeah, love?”

“If Graham Humbert doesn’t make it to the final interview stage for security, Ruby and I will both be pissed at you. He’s who I want protecting me.”

“That doesn’t terrify me as much as it should.”

“Ruby will be vicious.”

“Eh.”

“I can withhold sex, and you just got that back.”

Killian mock gasps, placing his hand over his heart. “You’re a liar, Emma Nolan. I know you find me too attractive to ever do that.”

He catches the pillow she throws with annoying ease, and she hates him for it.

(Not really.)

After Killian leaves, Emma falls back into bed and thinks that she’ll spend her day watching Netflix or doing something else as equally lazy. What better way is there to spend her last day of being twenty-five?

None.

But that lasts approximately two episodes of a show before guilt nags at her, and she’s moving the covers off of her legs and standing from the bed with a frown etched on her lips and the idea that she needs to clean something. Cleaning is not at all her thing unless she’s working at the pub, but she’s been pretty much on vacation (if vacation included recovering from a car crash and having a million talks with your boyfriend over all of the problems in your relationship) for two months, and she’s probably genetically unable to not work for such long periods of time.

She’s in a literal palace, even if it’s nothing like any of the movies or shows, and instead of relaxing, she wants to clean up the spots Killian has let go over the past few weeks from not having a maid to aid him in his ridiculously specific cleaning rituals.

What even is her life?

She starts in the kitchen, going through Killian’s fridge and throwing out everything that’s expired or has gone bad, and she quickly moves on from that to vacuuming every rug and sweeping or dusting the places that get missed. It’s a lot, and if it wasn’t for the music that is playing over the system, she’d have quit hours ago. She’s about to quit now when she remembers just how messy Killian’s closet is because of her absolute inability to hang up her own clothes.

They’ve probably had more fights about that than, oh, you know, whether or not the actual King of England wants to behead her or not.

(Currently, they’re leaning more toward him wanting to lock her away in a dungeon so she can’t cause any more unintentional media frenzies. It’s apparently less dramatic than a beheading because at least she gets to live...this is a weird train of thought.)

Emma’s phone starts ringing, and she pulls it out of her pocket to answer as she walks up the stairs.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets. “How are you feeling today? Old? Young? Like your life is over because you’re getting closer to late-twenties than early-twenties?”

“You are the most encouraging person alive.”

“I try.”

Emma chuckles and turns down the hallway to go into the bedroom, picking up her bra from where Killian must have tossed it last night and placing it in the hamper. “I’m fine. Killian’s at work opening a new hospital wing, apparently. I’m cleaning. How are you? What are you guys up to today?”

“I’m sorry. Did you say you were cleaning? Are we sure that you don’t have a concussion?”

“Your dad jokes are not good.”

“Every joke I’ve told since the day you were born has been a dad joke, and they’ve all been fabulous.”

She groans and walks into the closet before placing her phone on the table in the center of the room and putting it on speaker so she can do a little work before she loses momentum.

“I’m taking your dad joke privileges away, and to answer your question, I really am fine. I’m just messy, and Killian hasn’t had any of his usual staff in the apartment while I’ve been here. I think the whole August thing freaked him out so that he doesn’t trust anyone around me.”

“Someone close to him was selling information about you that harmed you. I’d be freaked out too. Hell, I am freaked out. If I wouldn’t get arrested for assault, I’d confront the guy.”

Everyone she loves wants to punch everyone who has hurt her, but they all stop themselves because of the fear of getting arrested for assault…she’s not sure if that’s flattering or concerning.

“What are you and Mom up to today?” she questions again, wanting to change the subject. She doesn’t want to talk about all of the shitty stuff that’s been happening to her lately. All she wants is to pick up all of her sweaters from the ground and figure out which ones need to be washed. Focusing on the bad is not how she’s going to move forward.

(And maybe not having to see August Booth’s face.)

“Your mom is downstairs with Will going over some possible menu changes, and I’ve been told I’m not allowed in the pub until I fix whatever is up with this toilet.”

“Ah, so you called me to procrastinate on doing that?”

“You know me so well.”

Emma fills in her dad on everything that’s been going on over the past few days. She tells him that her arm almost doesn’t feel weird anymore and that Ruby came over for dinner two nights again and brought Graham along with her. David is nearly as shocked by that as she was. This might be the longest relationship Ruby has ever had, and it’s good to see her so happy. It’s good that Emma likes Graham in that he’s dating her best friend and also might be protecting Emma’s life from now on if his next round of interviews goes well. In return, her dad gives her far too much information on the date he and her mom went on last night, and then he spends at least ten minutes talking about the difference in two brands of tomatoes.

All the while Emma has almost the entire closet (seriously, her dad talked for way too long and gave too much information about the date like he was talking to a friend and not his daughter) cleaned up. When she moves a pair of jeans that are on Killian’s side of the closet, she finds his solid blue navy tie he was searching for earlier.

“Ha,” she mumbles before reaching down to grab the tie.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says to her dad before tugging on the tie and pulling it up only for a small black box to roll out of it and tumble down onto the ground. “Holy shit.”

“Emma, are you okay?” David asks, but Emma barely hears him over the pounding of her heart. There might as well be an entire drumline in the room.

“Emma?”

“Y-yeah,” she lies even as her fingers tug so tightly on the tie that it might tear. “Hey, Dad? Has Killian talked to you about any...future type things?”

“What do you mean?”

Emma huffs and goes to pick up the box. They could be earrings, right? Or a necklace? Or another ring? She’s got a sapphire one she wears on her right hand. Killian has given her a ring before that wasn’t an engagement ring. That doesn’t mean what’s in this box is one. He buys her jewelry, and it’s not a big deal.

Except…

When the hell did he have time to get this?

How long has he had it? What made him decide to get it? When does he plan on using it? Does he still plan on using it after their breakup?

“You know what I mean. Has he - you know what,” Emma decides, placing the box on the table, “never mind. Don’t tell me anything. I think I’m going to have to call you back later.”

“Whatever you want,” David sighs, confused. “I love you, kiddo.”

��I love you, too, Dad.”

And then the phone line disconnects and she’s left with nothing except for the sound of that damn drumline and the jewelry box that she doesn’t know what to do with. She’s not going to look. She can’t look. There’s no good that would come out of it.

She really wants to look.

Like, really.

“No,” Emma tells herself, grabbing the box off the table and moving to put it back where it must have been before it got tangled in her jeans and in the tie. She puts the tie back for good measure as well, and she’s absolutely going to bite her tongue on bragging about finding the tie when Killian gets home.

He wants to marry her.

She wants to marry him.

Maybe cleaning was worth something.

-/-

Killian comes home that night with grilled cheese sandwiches, which he hates, and onion rings from Ruby’s grandmother’s restaurant, and she doesn’t think she’s ever loved him more.

He tells her that Graham has moved onto the final selections even with Brennan’s hounding and worry over Graham not being trained in the same way as their usual security.

Emma knows that she wants him to be the one who’s hired. She’s not going to trust anyone else, not after everything that’s happened.

-/-

He doesn’t give her any kind of jewelry for her birthday the next day, and she knows what was in the box.

There’s no definite proof, but Emma knows.

Right now, where they are, she’s not ready to get married, but she will be someday. Probably soon. So if Killian were to ask her, she’d say yes over and over again, but the actual getting married part would have to be put on hold until her emotions, Killian’s too, were a little less chaotic.

Love is a really funny thing.

-/-

November 10th, 2018

The cool of the marble pebbles Emma’s skin as Killian helps guide her on top of the counter. His fingers inch over the back of her thighs and up behind her knees where she’s sensitive, and she giggles into his neck while trying to keep herself from bursting into hysterical laughter. Killian keeps the apartment so warm that she didn’t bother to put on anything more than her sleep shorts and a t-shirt last night before going to bed, and she’s regretting that now with every shift over her body over the countertop. But Killian is warm, especially when he steps in between her thighs and she hooks her ankles around his back right over his ass, and every touch of his fingers, gentle and teasing, brings a little more fire to her body.

Especially if he’d stop trying to tickle her while hotly running his tongue down the side of her throat and leaving open-mouthed kisses there.

He’s particularly good at those, and she could spend day after day close to him as he covers her body with affectionate words and delicate brushes of lips that turn into more.

Really, that’s been the last two months, even with her having to wear that atrocious cast for most of it, but they found simple ways to fix that. Being apart and not having those beautiful blue eyes to look into or that laugh to hear after a funny joke was absolutely torture, and having him back in her life, having him back as her person, is something Emma doesn’t ever want to take for granted again.

She will inevitably. It’s human nature. But she doesn’t want to.

Being with Killian is the easy thing. Fighting off the demons is what makes it difficult, but fighting off the demons and conquering them has made her realize that good things often come after struggles that seem impossible.

She’s a sentimental fool now, and she doesn’t care.

(Finding the engagement ring two weeks ago has made her even more sentimental.)

She especially doesn’t care as Killian’s tongue dips into her collarbone and his hands snake up underneath her shirt, warm palms against cool skin in a combination of which she’ll never tire. Emma knows that Killian is a sentimental fool now too. He was before, definitely more than her, but she can see all of the little ways he’s being more affectionate than he was before.

That’s saying something.

But his affection has been obvious lately. In the mornings, she always wakes to him curled around her, hand resting between her breasts and chin nuzzled into the back of her neck. That’s not how they sleep, not usually, so she knows that he does that when he wakes up in the morning while she’s still sleeping. He’s always touching her - hands intertwined, arm around her waist, ankles hooked together - like he’s looking for constant reassurance that she’s real.

That they’re real.

Killian has gone to war for her on multiple occasions, and she has seen the intensity and the fighting spirit that he possesses. She watched him break down over her accident and watched him absolutely vilify every single press association that was involved in that incident or any of the ones that have attacked her in the past or stolen private information from her. She’s watched him deal with the Neal interviews that seem to keep coming despite their falsities, and she’s watched him do absolutely everything that he can to protect her.

Emma never wanted protection or help. She thought that it made her weak to not be able to handle things on her own, but that was wrong.

All of it.

People are going to tell you who you are your whole life. You have to punch back and say “no, this is who I am.” If you want people to look at you differently, make them. If you want to change things, you’re going to have to go out there and change them yourself. Because there are no fairy godmothers in this world.

But there are supportive partners who punch back with you or stand to the side and cheer you on when you need it the most.

“I hate these bloody shorts,” Killian mumbles into her skin as the deep timbre of his voice vibrates down her spine. “I seem to both want you in them and out of them all at once.”

“That’s quite the conundrum you have going on, Jones.”

Killian chuckles before nipping at her jaw and pulling back so that she sees his eyes are blown black. “You are the conundrum, Nolan,” he softly says as his thumbs ghost over both of her nipples, slowly but surely bringing them to peaks. “It’s a funny thing. I seem to always want you. I want you in the mornings, at night, in the middle of the damn day…”

Emma hums while pleasure continues to curl between her thighs, and she wraps her arms loosely around his neck, playing with his hair and running the gemstone of her ring down the back of his neck. “Tell me more about this wanting me in the morning thing.”

The look on his face is positively dirty, and it’s exactly what she wants. So when his hands leave her breasts and move to take her shirt off, she stretches her arms in the air and allows him to undress her until the warm air of the heater is touching her skin. Killian shifts against her so that she can feel his length brushing against where she wants him, a perfect fit in a position that shouldn’t be comfortable, and she melts at his touch as the roughness of his unshaven scruff scratches against her neck and down her sternum to be between her breasts.

“You’re a damn temptress,” he mutters, voice deep and raspy with sleep still lingering. “I wake up and see the smoothness of your skin laid out before me, and my mind is only filled with thoughts of you. I’ve never wanted someone like this.”

“Funny thing, I feel the same way.”

“Do you now?” His fingers tug into her shorts and her underwear, and she lifts her hips as he pulls them down and off of her ankles so that she’s left bare before him, the marble chilling her skin has goosebumps pop up and spread over her.

“I do. Most definitely. You’re quite the catch.”

Killian laughs as he captures her lips, so soft and pliant and warm, with her own. There’s something to be said for kissing just for the sake of kissing, the feeling it sends through her body, and when Emma gently runs her tongue across his bottom lip, asking for entrance, he gladly grants it, tangling their tongues together in one of his favorite dances. She’s definitely picked a partner who knows what he’s doing.

Emma runs her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and keeps her hand anchored there while the other runs up his spine, soft little taps of her fingertips against the bone underneath his shirt. They stay that way for awhile, lips moving together, until Emma’s hand leaves his hair to move underneath his shirt as well, pulling up at the material until he pulls back and tugs it over his head.

“I feel like we’re on a little bit more equal footing now. You were wearing too many clothes.”

“Was I? I hadn’t noticed. I was a little bit distracted by how unsanitary it’s going to be for us to fuck in the kitchen.”

“That’s literally never stopped you before.”

He huffs and leans forward to kiss her, slow and so impossibly thorough that she feels it all the way down to her toes. “I know,” he grins. “Are you okay up there, or do you want to move upstairs?”

“As long as you don’t hit my head into a cabinet, I’m fine.”

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispers against her skin, kissing the tops of her breasts as her eyelids flutter closed and she recovers from the whiplash in the change of his tone. “I remember the first time I saw you, Emma,” he speaks into her skin as his nose drags along her stomach and arousal tugs at her belly. “You were – are so bloody gorgeous, the curls of your ponytail framing your face and the dark of your eyelashes looking down at me as you told me to get my soggy ass out of the booth.”

“I didn’t say that,” she protests, running her hand through the hair and tugging him down closer to where she’s desperately aching for her.

There’s something about the night that they met that Killian always thinks about. It’s a frequent remembrance, this conversation one they’ve had before, and Emma knows that in moments where Killian is nostalgic, where he’s thinking about how much she means to him, his mind goes back to that night and piecing together all of the circumstances for their meeting.

She doesn’t care how it happened. Just that it did.

No one was ever supposed to love her or treasure her like this. This wasn’t supposed to be how it is for her. She wasn’t supposed to get the good guy. It wasn’t in the cards.

Life has apparently decided to deal her a new hand altogether.

“But you were thinking it,” he whispers against skin, lips pressing against her small tattoo and lingering there. She thought getting that might be a mistake, that the desperation was too much, but over the past few weeks, Killian has held onto it like a glimmer of hope. She did the same. “You looked so frustrated with me, like how dare I walk into your pub in order to get out of the rain.”

“Shameful, really,” she teases, and when she opens her mouth to say something else, she can’t, her throat suddenly too tight to speak while the entirety of the English language escapes from her brain.

Killian’s hands hook around the back of her knees, and this time there’s no playful teasing. Instead, he spreads her legs further apart and bends down to his own knees. She’s about to make a joke about him not hurting himself, a tease over his twenty-ninth birthday last month and how dramatic he was over being nearly thirty, but then he’s kissing her exactly where she wants him, where she needs him.

His tongue drags roughly against her like a perfected routine, and Emma’s eyes tighten. She can’t bear to open them, but then she does and sees the dark mess of hair between the paleness of her thighs. Even more than that, she sees the blue of his eyes under the hood of his eyelid, and she wonders if today is going to be the day that this is all too much for her.

Never.

Killian shifts underneath her, his right hand leaving the curve of her knee to join with his tongue as he kisses her and kisses her and kisses her. Moans filter between them, hers and his, and the tension could be cut with one of the knives that’s in the drawer beneath her ass. It’s all too much - too much pleasure and want and love - and when he slips two fingers into her and curls them, she gasps out his name as a chant that never seems to stop.

“Magnificent,” he mumbles, the sound of his voice like liquid fire in her veins. “Bloody magnificent. Your noises, my darling. Fuck.”

There’s something about knowing that Killian is as affected by things like this as she is, even if he’s the one giving all of the pleasure, and that with the combination of his mouth moving over her bundle of nerves and his fingers moving within her as her falling apart little by little, like the waves cresting onto the shore.

Damn.

Killian presses a kiss to where she’s still fluttering before moving to her thigh, light touches that are nothing more than a blink, a whisper. When he rises from the ground, he grunts, probably from having his knees pressed into hardwood for so long, but she doesn’t think about that for too long when she can feel him hard against her and pressing into her thigh. “Mmm,” Emma hums, pulling herself up and tugging Killian closer to her so that she buries her face in his neck, kissing the straining cord. “You are wonderful.” “Ah, well, that tends to be your reaction after we do something like that.” “Are you fishing for compliments?” “Never.” She chuckles while he does the same, and even without looking, she knows that his eyes are crinkled, joy written across his face.

“Do you want to move upstairs or…”

“Upstairs. Definitely upstairs.”

They move quickly, neither of them in the mood to wait, and while it would have been faster to move to the couch in the living room, this is better. Killian falls back to the bed with laughter on his lips, and Emma immediately hooks her thumbs into his sweats and pulls them down as much as she can before he lifts his hips off the bed to help her out, kicking them off his ankles and onto the floor while she is busy kissing up his thigh, her hand running up his length, feeling the warm hardness in her palms.

“Emma,” Killian moans, voice gruntled. She smirks into his thigh and keeps her hand on his length.

“I am romancing you, Killian,” she promises against his lightning bolt scar before crawling up his body, peppering open mouthed kisses against the trail of his chest hair until she’s leaning over his mouth, her folds teasing him at their hips. “Like you do to me.”

“Darling - ”

“Your eyes, even blown black with desire like they are right now,” she whispers, circling her hips above him to lightly grind down, “are the most gorgeous blue I’ve ever seen.”

She touches his face then, running her fingers over his jaw. “I love your stubble, how it’s black with a little bit of red peppered in, and I love when you don’t shave for a few days and it’s full and just the right mix of soft and prickly. I love the way it feels when you rub it against my cheek in the mornings when you’re waking me up or how it feels against the inside of my thighs.”

She kisses his jaw, running her tongue behind her lips, and the grunt Killian makes curls as little bursts of fire down her spine.

“I love,” she says, running her hands down his biceps as she sits on his lap, right below where she knows he wants her, “the strength of your arms when you hold me, no matter what the occasion. And I love,” she moves her hands through the hair at his chest as Killian twitches beneath her touch, “this hair and how it pokes through the top of all of your shirts. I love the ways that your eyes crinkle when you’re truly smiling.”

I love that you love me enough to want to marry me, she thinks to herself before saying. “I love that you fight for me every day no matter the circumstances.”

She rises on her legs and scoots forward, guiding him to her entrance before slowly, slowly, slowly sinking down onto him. It’s a perfect fit. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, and Killian’s hands grapple for her hips, nails digging into skin. She doesn’t think he’s ever been this quiet for such a long period of time during sex.

“And mostly, at least for our purposes right now, what I love is the feeling of you inside me, thick and full and perfect.”

At that, she starts to move, rolling her hips against him, and it feels so goddamn good that her brief stint as the verbose one in the relationship has ended and Killian is the one to start muttering words of encouragement and curses that would have anyone blushing. She sets a slow, unhurried pace that she knows will draw out pleasure, but Killian doesn’t let her do that for long before he takes control of their movements, speeding up the pace as he thrusts up into her. She lets out a whimper as he hits the exact right spot, and Killian captures the next one with his mouth, kissing her like a man starved of affection and like it’s not ten in the morning.

Suddenly, Killian grabs her hips and rolls them over to change their position, his body encasing hers. He mutters a “bloody fuck” when she clenches her thighs to try to keep him from slipping out, and Emma throws her head back with laughter even if she shouldn’t.

Killian nips at her neck, but she can feel his smile too.

He must be able to tell that she’s getting close, rising higher and higher to her peak, because he releases her hips to grab her wrists, sliding his hands until their fingers are interlaced above her head. He tilts his hips so that his thrusts catch her clit. Her breath hitches and her legs wrap around his backside, and Emma might actually melt. She thinks that she has. Her limbs are all jelly, and Killian isn’t much better above her.

This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

There are a million things they should probably do today, but they never seem to move away from bed besides getting food from the kitchen. That’s what she’d been trying to do this morning when Killian distracted her, but she’s not going to complain. This is good and nice and Emma could wrap herself in these blankets and in Killian for the rest of time.

When she wakes later, it’s to the slap of a hand to her skin, and Emma immediately flinches and jolts up, blinking into the darkness.

“Ow, shit, Killian. What was that for?”

“I was just making sure you’re here,” he mumbles, voice groggy.

“By slapping me?”

“Killian,” a voice says, and Emma realizes that Killian is on the phone. He might not even realize he’s on the phone. “Killian are you there? “Killian, have you heard a single word I’ve said?”

Liam. He’s talking to Liam.

Holy shit. Why is Liam calling him in the middle of the night?

“I’ll be honest, no. I’m still mostly asleep.”

“Asleep my ass,” Emma mumbles before reaching over to put the call on speaker phone so she doesn’t have to keep straining her ears to hear him. Killian grumbles something, but she ignores him as she settles herself underneath his arm. “Liam, what’s wrong? Is everyone okay?”

“Elsa is in labor, and we sent all of our nannies home for the night. Can the two of you watch Alex for us?”

“Of course,” Emma sighs. “Bring him over when you guys leave, okay?”

“I will, lass. Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Killian promises, finally waking up. “Congratulations, brother.” At that, the line goes dead, and Emma immediately moves to get out of bed only for Killian tugs her back into him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Emma raises a brow and motions down to the distinct lack of clothes on both of their bodies. “I know Alex is about to have a sibling, which is definite proof of his parents having sex, but I don’t want to be the one to have to explain why his uncle was having a naked sleepover with me.”

“Really? You don’t want to explain sex to a toddler? Shocker.”

She huffs and leans forward to brush her lips over his forehead. “Congratulations on being an uncle again, babe.”

Emma hears his swallow as his head nods up and down in affirmation. “Thanks, love. Let’s go put on some clothes so we don’t scar the lad.”

-/-

The next chapter is technically the last official chapter. How is that even possible? Thank you all for coming along for this ride ❤️

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#what a wicked game #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #captain swan

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