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withoneheadlight · 4 years ago

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oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So.

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while. Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands, feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e. When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this: the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

💎

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

#harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy hargrove #Billy x Steve #xask #askfic #xharringrove #the harrington-hargrove household #xaskwithoneheadlight #xfluff #xpronight

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kyoupann · 4 years ago

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Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like:

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels.

A chunk of his handwriting:

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your 4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine, defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life.

One of his letters would look like this:

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.- Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy - Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write. He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

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davidmann95 · 4 years ago

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Comics this week (12/1/2020)?

calvatronlordofall said: Today’s comics?

Far Sector #9: Another comic I won’t understand until it’s done and I can reread the whole thing but that I’m enjoying anyway. Really, really hope Jemisin continues contributing to the medium in some form after this, because she absolutely has a gift for it.

Strange Adventures #7: He doesn’t care for tyranny, folks. And JEEESSSUUUUS, Doc

DCeased: Dead Planet #6: Some quality DC Comics nonsense problem-solving, but not sure at all whether the chips are gonna fall in favor of the stuff about this I’ve been really liking or the aspects I simply don’t care about at all.

Tales From The Dark Multiverse: Wonder Woman: War Of The Gods: While I’ve seen plenty of them around the periphery in anthologies and so forth I think this is Vita Ayala’s first full work I’ve been exposed to, and tbh I can’t say I’m taken, even given the pretty threadbare-seeming material for them to work with. I’ll still give Children of the Atom a try, but my expectations have been lowered. Nice seeing Trish Mulviihill’s colors though, thought they looked familiar and it turns out she worked on my beloved Superman & Bugs Bunny.

Batman: The Adventures Continue #7: Yeah, now that it’s all said and done, definitely the best take on the death and return of Jason Todd.

Batman #104: Art’s taken a hit, but Ghostmaker’s getting more and more fun as a character the more that comes out about him. And surprising seeing Dick in his real Robin suit in flashback, Dark Designs had him still rocking that New 52 abomination. It really seems like the policy RE: costumes in flashbacks with him remains up in the air at any given time?

Anonymous said: Thoughts on the long-awaited BatCat?

Anonymous said: Bat/Cat the objectively best comic of the week. Thots.

Batman/Catwoman #1: I imagine disappointingly, quite few - both the best and worst part of this book is that King’s entire spiel on “This is gonna be such a different animal from my regular run, this is my DKR, this is my ultimate prestige statement on the characters” was pure hype, this is just the next issue of his Batman run with Clay Mann as the new main artist. And it’s good! I like it! I think it’d take awhile for anybody to tumble onto the ‘three timelines’ aspect of it if they didn’t go in knowing about it since the color of Catwoman’s suit is the only obvious tipoff for a chunk of it, but it’s still a well-constructed piece of comics in line with the story up to this point, even if it’s so in line with it that it pretty much puts the lie to the notion that this was originally conceived of as a special prestige project in the same way as Strange Adventures or Rorschach. Mostly I’m just struck now that it’s out by the guts of doing a straight sequel to Mask of the Phantasm, given that’s maybe the singularly least divisive major Batman story: everybody on every side of the Batman-loving aisle recognizes it as hallowed ground, so nobody’s gonna not be let down if you fuck it up. I really need to rewatch it, it’s been well over a decade and unlike Return of the Joker my memories of it have almost entirely faded.

Black Widow #4: The further in I get the more I’m struck by the cleverness of the central conceit. How do you construct a drama around a century-old woman whose business has her have to mostly forsake most normal human connection? Make the literal supervillain plot that she’s been forced to have incredibly intimate human connections, and now she’s just gotta deal with that on top of what would otherwise be fairly routine Black Widow stuff.

Miles Morales: Spider-Man #21: Hate to say it folks, but even discounting the severity of the delays this arc’s been a dud. Really hoping it finds its feet again soon.

King In Black #1: Holy cow, this was ass. I went in thinking “well, I’ve resigned myself to having to get this to understand the crossovers into books I’m already getting and tie-in minis I do care about, but Cates still has a baseline level of competency so it should still be perfectly readable”, but this is just...nothing. This is that modern Dan Jurgens tier where it’s so bland and perfunctory and inoffensively executed it loops back around to infuriating, except Dan Jurgens’s writing if nothing else at least doesn’t strut around in tangible self-regard as the next great sales-shattering triumph of the Punk Rock God Of Comixxx like Cates’. And when was the last Marvel event on this scale with such little hype behind it? Even Empyre seemed like it had more weight on arrival, and much as I enjoyed it I’m pretty sure that book mainly existed to fill space until we got this. Maybe it’s just the circle I run in. I swear I remember Thanos Wins being pretty fun, and I just reread Atomahawk and that was still a hoot, so it’s a shame Cates has turned out this way, and worse he’s ended up Marvel’s new golden boy. Unless my dad likes it (and if so hey, he’s not alone, I imagine this is selling gangbusters) I’m sure not grabbing another issue, so I guess I’ll have to do my best with context clues in figuring out what’s going on for...Guardians of the Galaxy, S.W.O.R.D., Daredevil, Namor, Return of the Valkyries, the Joe Fixit Immortal Hulk one-shot, Iron Man/Doctor Doom, and the next book below. Fuck.

The Union #1: I’ve only read Everything Used To Be Black And White for Jack Staff but I was definitely curious what Grist would do here, and it didn’t disappoint! Fun little story, bunch of neat character ideas I’m looking forward to seeing developed further, very lived-in feeling slice of its corner of a superhero world.

Marvels Snapshots: Civil War: An excellent little parable that I’m surprised we didn’t actually see the likes of in ‘06, and frankly worth getting a mediocre Miles Morales arc for (even if it was disappointing that that one had to be where the ball was dropped) if this is where Ahmed’s attention was going instead.

Daredevil #25: So I turned two pages at once and accidentally spoiled myself at the last possible moment for the big reveal of the issue, so that sucks. Still a great issue though - one that manages to function as a logical extension of an incredibly street-level story even though it can only possibly exist as an extrapolation of the wildest excesses of the Marvel universe - but I cannot imagine how the hell the next is gonna cleanly pivot into King in Black shenanigans.

Kill A Man: A new OGN by Steve Orlando, cowritten with Phillip Kennedy Johnson and with art by Al Morgan and letters by Jim Campbell, the reductive though not inaccurate pitch is ‘queer Creed’. But since this is likely to sail under the radar I need to emphasize this is one of Orlando’s absolute best works, a real triumph of the form that’s among the best comics of the year (good GOD does this put to shame 99% of superhero comics fight scenes by the end), and a must-buy for any fans of his work. I’m just gonna let how hard the title and solicit text go speak for themselves:

“As a child, James Bellyi watched his father die in the ring as payback for slurs thrown at the other fighter. Today, he's a Mixed Martial Arts star at the top of his game, and one of the most popular fighters in the world...until he's outed as gay in his title shot press conference. Abandoned overnight by his training camp, his endorsements, his fans and his sport, to regain his title shot Bellyi is forced to turn to the last person he ever wants to see again: Xavier Mayne, a gay, once-great fighter in his own right...and the man James once watched kill his father.”

#Week's Comics #Opinion

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deniigi · 5 years ago

Text

Last Mike piece kind of combining a handful of different requests.

It’s a long one and is under the cut.

(Note, contains some stereotyping--I love Mike but I don’t imagine him as a super sensitive or culturally aware type of guy.)

Thanks to everyone who sent in asks!! And who has read and commented on stories up until this point.

You’re all darlings and stars and I appreciate you immensely. Truly immensely. It is a pleasure to read your comments and reactions and to have met so many lovely humans through the work.

---

keeping brothers

Mike comes to SF to demand retribution for not being invited to Matt and Foggy’s wedding. He crashes into Sam and finds in him a challenge that is perhaps even too great for even Mike Murdock to overcome.

---

Foggy was not presently receptive to advances.

This was unfortunate. Especially since revenge was needing to be taken here over dear, dear Matthew going forth with a wedding without even inviting his only, humble brother to sit in the pews.

Mike had picked out a suit and everything.

It was yellow.

Everyone loved yellow.

He’d gotten a hat to go with it.

Everyone loved hats.

Matt, however, seemed to have other ideas and went on and on about how he was planning on an August wedding and he’d tell Mike in the next month or so what the decided date was and what the color scheme was, and so on and so on. And yet, somehow, by the time May was rolling to a close, with months left until the auspicious August date, Mike got a furious call from the Sister who, for once, had found it in herself to contact him first and who was also offended on Matt’s and Dad’s behalf that Mike had failed to show up to his own twin’s wedding.

She didn’t yell. No of course she didn’t. But she told Mike that God was watching him and that he should consider how he was going to make it up to his brother.

His brother.

Hmph.

More like his little shit wombmate.

Oh, Mike would make it up to him alright.

Dearest, darling Matthew lived in San Francisco these days and while Foggy was not receptive to Mike’s usual charm and wit, he did say that Mike was welcome to stay at the happily married couple’s house for the night.

Foggy felt guilty when Mike explained the phone call from Mom and the whole unworn suit situation. He said that it was wrong of Matt to have lied to him and that an apology would be forthcoming, but in the meantime, if Mike could keep an eye on the dogs and the apprentice while he went out to find his beloved husband, that would be great.

Mike, of course, promised he would.

He chose not to mention that dogs were the foul scum of the earth on his personal hierarchy of creatures and things.

He also chose not to mention that children were right below dogs on said hierarchy. After all, not everyone in the world needed to know his business.

Matt’s dogs were…disgusting.

Mike didn’t get it.

The number of times Mike had moved Matt to the other side of the pavement to keep him away from dogs (out of brotherly love and fear of the neighborhood kids knowing that his little bro was a crybaby) had long passed countable means.

And yet.

These things.

Hazel was alright. Mike got why Matt was obsessed with her. She was ginger. They were ginger. There was an unbreakable bond there.

But Tuesday?

Just why?

She was old. She was pale. She looked sad all the fucking time.

Mike tried to throw a tennis ball for her, but after he’d pried the wet, nasty thing out of her mouth, she just watched it bounce and roll onto the living room carpet before looking back up at him like he’d just shot Bugs Bunny dead on the carpet and tried to feed him to her.

“You ever considered therapy?” he asked her. “Maybe anti-depressants?”

She said nothing.

She just looked sad.

“How about a walk?” he asked.

Hazel flung herself out of the kitchen and crashed into the bottom of the island on her way.

Mike could appreciate that level of enthusiasm. Tuesday watched her and the slowly looked back up at him. Her tail swung exactly once.

“That’s it?” Mike asked her.

The tail drooped.

Fuckin’ A.

Look who’s Sandra D., huh?

The door rattled open and both dogs suddenly leap into action. Mike threw hands over his ears at the sudden explosion of barking.

“HEY,” he snapped at them.

They carried on yowling and bustling, racing each other down the stairs. Mike stood up and begrudgingly accepted that he was gonna have to chase these slobbering idiots out into the street, but froze.

A person was down there at the bottom of the stairs with bags slipping off their shoulders. They were laughing and petting the dogs. Cooing to them.

Mike decided that he wasn’t in the mood for housecleaner chatting. He was here for the express purpose of shaming Matthew in his own home.

He took a step back, but not soon enough. The black hair down there snapped up and made eye contact.

“Oh, hey Boss,” the cleaner said. “You’re home early.”

How to respond? How to respond?

This appeared to be an opportunity.

“Wasn’t busy,” he said in his best, stiff, huffy Matthew impression.

The kid cocked his head to the side a little.

“Really?” he asked. “Huh. Wild. Did you already take the girls out?”

Housecleaner and dogwalker? Come on, Matt. You ain’t that busy.

“Negative,” Mike said.

“Oh. Okay, I’ll take them then,” the kid said. “Jia and Chunhua want to meet them, is that cool?”

Um.

But

Why.

“No can do,” Mike said. “They’ve been poorly behaved.”

The kid stopped with his hand on the downstairs closet door. He turned his head slowly back up the stairs, this time frowning.

Mike decided that he was going to make a drink.

You know. A “drink.” For protection. Against suspicion.

“You feeling okay, Bossman?” the kid called up the stairs.

“Just fine, thanks,” Mike called back from the kitchen. He found a safe place behind the counter and hunkered with the muzzle of his piece over its edge.

Surely, this guy knew Matt’s ‘leave me alone’ tone. Mike had it imprinted across his heart and his impression of it, he knew, was flawless.

The sound of rustling eased downstairs for a moment, and the creak of a door opening followed it. The dogs did not come back up the stairs. Mike started to stand up.

Perhaps the suspicion had passed?

The sound of a door opening downstairs destroyed that dream and the sound of the kid hiking upstairs with intention followed the shattered its remaining fragments.

And like.

Damn.

There were two ways to go about this.

Way 1) Shoot the kid, hide the body, hire new household help for the brother.

Way 2) Engage full and complete Matthew impersonation.

Tricky, tricky, tricky.

One of those involved paperwork and speed interviewing. Mike stowed his piece and made a show of picking through the cabinets for a glass. He was careful to feel around at the bottom of the glasswares’ stems.

He heard the footsteps stop behind him and could practically feel the kid’s eyes burning holes into his back.

“You need a Tylenol or somethin’, Teach?” the kid rumbled.

The hair on the back of Mike’s neck stood up.

He’d fucked up.

He didn’t know how he’d fucked up, but he’d fucked up.

Damn.

Poor little shit. Dyin’ on a kitchen floor was just one step above dying on the toilet.

“I’m good, thanks,” he said to the cabinet contents.

“Are you?” the kid asked.

Pushy.

Stop asking questions, boy, and start prayin’.

“I am,” Mike said, closing the cabinet firmly. “Is there a reason—”

He turned around.

Blue, glowing eyes stared right through him.

“What’s the matter, Teach?” the kid asked sweetly. “Never seen me before?”

Oh.

Shit.

Mike never claimed to be Matty.

Ever.

He wasn’t there for the whole cult-training thing. He only became aware of it after the fact. Of course he’d noticed the change in behavior and the personality shift and yadda yadda yadda. But he couldn’t have done anything about it. He’d just been a kid himself, not to mention that he’d been busy being shipped out to a thousand different foster families and group homes while Matty had been shuffled through a series of special needs placements. They were broken apart and thrown back together all the fucking time while every social worker and home and institute claimed to be trying to ‘keep the twins together.’

As a result, one day Mike woke up and learned from the paper that his twin was secretly a devil in disguise.

It had been kind of neat, actually. Matty’s devil fought crime and Mike’s devil did crime.

What a pair!

The contrast! The tension!

Delicious, all of it.

And while that was very good aesthetic-wise, it unfortunately meant that Mike was woefully unprepared to fight a dog-walking, house-cleaning marital artist on kitchen tile.

The kid was strong. And fast. And fuck, could he land a punch. Or eight.

He’d snatched Mike’s gun and chucked it in the sink within seconds of this conflict beginning, and while Mike had a height and weight advantage on him, someone had taught him how to go for the kidneys and the knees.

Christ.

Mike was going to have to knock him out.

He didn’t want to.

Matt’s kitchen was already a disaster. Adding blood to that had not been part of the shaming plan.

Welp.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

He managed to get the kid locked into an elbow and pulled up with the intention of giving him a head start in the napping arena, when the front door slammed open. The kid simultaneously sunk his teeth down into Mike’s forearm.

Mike shouted before he knew he was and suddenly there were dogs everywhere and people talking over each other and one second, Mike was reestablishing his grip on that mangey little mutt, and the next the kid was gone and he was staring into Matt’s furious grimace.

A glass rolled around on the counter by the sink.

“Oh,” Mike said. “Well, fancy meeting you here.”

“Sensei,” the kid cried, trying to push past Matt’s side to get in front of him.

“That’s enough,” Matt said to Mike’s face, but really to the room at large. The kid stopped.

Sensei, he’d said.

Oho.

Ohohoho.

Mike might have misjudged things here.

“Go clean yourself up,” Matt ordered him, pulling back out of his braced form and catching the kid when he tried to get in front of him again.

“Righty-o,” Mike told him pleasantly. “Just one question—”

A muscle in Matt’s jaw jumped. Mike decided that that was permission.

“Does your little whelp there got all his shots?” Mike asked him.

Sam.

This kid’s name was Sam. And he was not household help. He was apprentice and employee and he was fucking sharp.

Matt kept grabbing him and forcibly manhandling him back onto the couch to keep him from lunging at Mike with intent to kill.

Mike didn’t know what to make of any of this.

When Foggy had said ‘apprentice,’ Mike had assumed that some 14 year old would be arriving for lessons in MMA in the garage or something.

He had not expected this guy.

“Fuck you,” Sam snapped at Mike when Matt told him in hushed tones to settle down or go downstairs until he could.

Wow.

Mike was almost…impressed?

“Samuel,” Matt said in a voice that gave Mike shivers because it sounded exactly like Dad.

Holy shit.

Sam and his glowing blue eyes jerked and then stared up at Matt in hurt betrayal. Matt sensed it somehow and softened.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Thank you for protecting the house. There’s just a misunderstanding here.”

Boy, was that an understatement.

“He’s impersonating you,” Sam told his teacher. “He was cursing Tuesday.”

Eh?

Oh.

That.

“He’s not impersonating me,” Matt said calmly while Foggy made aggravated sounds at the state of his kitchen. “He’s my twin.”

Samuel went slack and stared up into Matt’s sunglasses. He swiveled his head back to Mike. Mike tapped his own glasses down and winked.

Sam bared teeth at him.

Hm.

Unfriendly.

Yes. Like the dog.

Why did Matty collect such things?

“Sam,” Matt said, apparently aware that this type of Sam-silence was not a benevolent one.

Cowed by the warning, Sam’s new tactic for dealing with Mike abruptly became hiding from him. He wriggled out of Matt’s hold and tucked himself up against his back instead, peeking out to squint severely at Mike as though daring him to come any closer.

Matt sighed.

“What do you want, Michael?” he asked, holding his head in his hands while the sound of glass being swept rang out from the kitchen.

Mike hummed and leaned his chin on his palm.

“I think we both know what I want,” he said.

Matt took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Hostile,” Mike noted disapprovingly at the now-empty doorframe.

“He’s not always this way,” Foggy assured him.

Mike scoffed.

“Little shit bites,” he said.

“Where do you think he learned that from?” Foggy asked.

Ah.

Matty.

Mike saw now.

“Matt’s not even trying to include me in his life anymore,” Mike sighed. Foggy matched his posture on the other side of the now-clean kitchen counter.

“Sam is a soft spot,” he said.

“Psh. He shouldn’t be. If Matty wanted a nephew, all he had to do was say so. I’m sure I’ve gotten some broad or ten knocked up over the last twenty years,” Mike pointed out.

Foggy’s silence was judgmental. He was lookin’ kind of thin.

“Bad timing?” Mike asked him.

“More like tasteless,” Foggy told him.

“Maybe tasteless, but not untrue,” Mike volleyed back with a winning smile.

Foggy pursed his lips at him.

“Matt and Sam are already bonded, Michael,” he said. “It’s going to be far easier for you to accept Sammy than it is to get Matt to accept one of your eight thousand love children.”

Mike huffed.

Always a double-standard in this family.

So Sam was definitely trying to kill him. Or at least run him out of this place.

There was broken glass in the guest bathroom. There was a rug suddenly on the stairs in the middle of the night. There were wet, disgusting tennis balls waiting to be stepped on in the house’s hallways.

Sam allegedly slept downstairs, but Mike didn’t think he was sleeping.

“You’re accusing my apprentice of sabotage, now?” Matt deadpanned to him over breakfast.

“He’s jealous. He doesn’t like the idea of there being two of you,” Mike told him reliably.

Matt reached out and felt around for Mike’s forehead. He held his hand there like the fucking dick he was.

“Hm,” he said.

“I ain’t lyin’,” Mike told him.

“Hm,” Matt said again, taking his hand back to stuff a piece of toast in his mouth.

Mike heard a door open downstairs and then a burst of babytalk towards one of the dogs.

It cut off abruptly.

Mike looked over his shoulder towards the staircase and sure enough, the most favored blue-eyed boy of the household was down there, glaring up at him. He waved. Sam gave him the finger and hauled the dogs off with him to go make his own breakfast in the downstairs kitchen.

“He’s adorable, Matty,” Mike said without intonation.

“I am aware,” Matt said. “I like to keep him around. Really draws in the ladies.”

Hm.

Sam hid. Mike became aware of this on the third day of staying over that he managed to wrangle out of Matt and Foggy in return for their inhospitality over the weekend and the whole wedding situation.

The boy was always in his room or going or coming from the house. He did not touch the stairs.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” he asked Matt.

Matt didn’t even turn his way while he brushed Hazel’s fur.

“I mean, he doesn’t love to come up here in general,” he said, “But yeah, no. He especially doesn’t love you.”

Hm.

“I’m gonna bond with him,” Mike decided.

“Please don’t,” Matt said immediately.

“I’m gonna,” Mike said.

Sam blinked slowly at him once and then twice.

Then he picked up his plate and mug and made to leave for his room.

“Hold on now, partner,” Mike said, blocking the doorway with an arm. Sam’s eyes flicked up to the arm, then back to his face. Then up to the arm again.

“I think we both want the same thing here,” Mike continued. “You clearly love my brother. I appreciate that. I love my brother too. And if you’re gonna be stickin’ around, me and you should get onto more even footing, no?”

Sam turned his head to the side and ducked right under Mike’s arm into the hall. His bedroom door closed with a thunk.

It locked.

Mike blinked at the window he had been standing in front of.

Little shit.

This kid was a little shit.

“Mike, he’s just not about you,” Matt sighed. “It took him months to warm up to me. He’s not that kind of person.”

Bullshit.

He was what? 18?

18 year olds could be bought.

Matt’s lip twitched.

“He’s 24,” he said.

Oh.

Well.

Same difference. 24 year olds could be bought too.

Matt smirked.

“Alright, do your worst then,” he said.

He invited Samuel out for Vietnamese coffee. There was a place close by. It seemed to be quiet enough.

Sam stared at him and informed him that he was Chinese, thanks, not Vietnamese and all Asians weren’t the same, by the way.

Mike didn’t know what to say.

“Do you not like coffee?” he asked.

“I don’t like stereotypes,” Sam told him. “And I don’t like you.”

He shut his door.

“If we do East Asian food, then we let Sammy pick where we get it,” Matt told Mike dutifully.

That was like, fine. But also wasn’t that equally presumptuous?

“He’s got much stronger opinions on it than we do,” Matt shrugged. “And certain places don’t have things that he likes that we don’t know very well.”

…right.

“So I should let him pick,” Mike translated.

“I think you should leave him alone,” Matt told him.

Well, they both knew that wasn’t happening, but it was a sweet thought, little brother.

“You have a compulsion to feel liked,” Matt said offhandedly.

“You have a need to be hated,” Mike sighed.

Matt glared.

The stalemate remained intact.

Sammy. Samuel. Sam.

He told Mike to call him Mr. Chung or Blindspot. Nothing more, nothing less.

Mike thought ‘Sammy’ was very cute.

It sounded nephew-like.

Sam told him that he wasn’t his nephew because Sensei wasn’t his dad because he already had a deadbeat, missing father, thanks. He wasn’t looking for another one.

Mike was getting the feeling that Sam was angry with him.

Matt wandered downstairs afterwards and knocked on Sam’s door and was allowed admission. For like. An hour.

Them double-standards, man.

Matt announced that Mike was coming with him and Sam to walk the dogs. He bribed the kid with a promise of a bagel. Mike watched this happen.

Sam stared long and sad into Matt’s unseeing face exactly like Tuesday. Matt patted him on the head in consolation and he did not (did not) bite his hand (unlike the damn dog).

“Half an hour, kiddo,” Matt told him. “Then bagel.”

Sam was from New York, it turned out. Not Shanghai or Beijing or Hong Kong. And apparently it was rude to ask or assume the latter.

He liked bagels as much as any decent New Yorker did, and Matt knew this about him.

“Only for the bagel,” Sam told him.

“Only for the bagel,” Matt agreed. “I’ll buy and you can put whatever you want on it.”

“Egg,” Sam said definitively. “And peanut butter. And sriracha.”

Matt tried not to wince.

“Whatever you want,” he said.

Sam was pleased with his submission.

“Is it cold outside?” he asked.

Sam loved the dogs. Mike suddenly understood why he and Matt got on so well now.

This kid had little care for drool on his hands and had a killer arm. The dogs raced after his lobbed tennis balls like their lives depended on it—even the old lady.

Matt said nothing.

He was busy acting as a buffer. He elbowed Mike in the ribs after the fifth throw or so.

Mike remembered the mission.

“Where’d you learn to throw, Sammy?” he asked.

Matt clutched at his face with a hand.

Sam side-eyed Mike without moving.

“Sam,” he said firmly. “Or BT. Or Chung.”

“Sammy suits you,” Mike told him. “Where’d you learn to throw?”

Sam furrowed his brow.

“My mom,” he said.

Oh, nice.

“She play baseball?” Mike asked.

“Archer,” Sam said stiffly.

“Very cool. Very cool.”

Annnnd that was it. Hm.

“Teach, why’re you lettin’ this guy hang around?” Sam asked out of the blue.

“Familial obligation, minor guilt, fear of maternal retribution,” Matt listed out dutifully.

Sam picked up the proffered ball and with it, accepted this answer. He chucked the ball and watched the dogs run.

“Are you a devil too?” he asked the field.

Mike blinked then realized the question was for him.

“Sort of,” he said.

“Definitely,” Matt sighed.

“What’s your thing then?” Sam asked. “You carry. Why?”

Why?

Because Mike Murdock wasn’t being caught out in the cold, no siree.

“My choice of company relies on, how shall we say, some rather poor communication,” he went for.

Sam hummed.

“So you’re a crook,” he said.

Matt choked on a laugh.

“A crook? No, no, kid,” Mike said. “You got me all wrong. I’m what you call an opportunist.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Sure. Why’re you such a dick?”

Wow.

No respect for his elders, truly.

“It’s the trauma,” he deadpanned. “And the older sibling burden.”

“You don’t look older than Sensei,” Sam pointed out.

“Well, looks aren’t everything, sweetheart,” Mike told him kindly.

Sam frowned.

“Why do you wear a hat?” he asked.

“Because I’m fantastic,” Mike told him.

“Oh, I get it now,” Sam said.

Mike straightened his back.

“Do you?” he asked.

“You’re just a fuckin’ clown,” Sam said.

Okay, so Mike might just have to throw this one.

Matt wouldn’t stop laughing at him and it was his job to make Matt miserable, not the other way around. Any more of this and Matt would forget his place.

“Your son is out of line,” he scolded Matthew. “Doesn’t respect his elders. Doesn’t play well with strangers. You need to socialize him.”

Matt found that even more comical.

He wouldn’t say why. Mike had to interrogate Foggy, but that was difficult because Kirsten showed up and was gorgeous and too good for Matthew, so that had to be addressed with full and complete attention.

Kirsten leaned over and took Mike’s hat and patted him on the shoulder and said, “Sam’s never been disrespectful for more than five minutes at a go the whole time we’ve known him, Mikey, we’re learning more and more about him each day that you’re here.”

Which was.

Hm.

Not sexy.

But he would deal with that once Sexy herself gave him his hat back.

He got a job on in Miami that night and had to cut his visit short. Matt was not sorry to see him go. That was pretty typical.

Sam had no opinions on his leaving. He stuck his head upstairs and said bye, but nothing more than that.

Mike felt bitter.

It had been a long time since he’d left a job feeling unsatisfied.

No closure.

Matt wasn’t supposed to be better with people than he was. That was their trade off. He wasn’t allowed.

“I’ll be back, and I’ll crack him,” He threatened his brother on the way to the airport.

“I have no doubt that you will,” Matt said patronizingly. “And I am sure that he’ll be waiting for your return.”

Yeah, well.

He better.

#fic #long post #inimitable verse #I won't post another long piece like this for a while i'm so sorry mobile folks #ficlet #It def is not a ficlet but for the tag #mike murdock #matt murdock #samuel chung

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misskittysmagicportal · 4 years ago

Note

Jeanie and Cormac for the ship thing <3

General:

How long will they last? - I always like to think forever, but Jeanie will live for awhile like she will lose him again. (Also, I have to figure out HOW to get them back together?)

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - It took a few months, so I would say that’s quick despite Jeanie’s reluctance at even labelling their relationship.

How was their first kiss? - Cheeky and public. It was meant to be a bet where Jeanie’s ex-husband could humiliate her using his new business partner. Except they turned the tables on Gordon and turned it into something quite.. sexy. Not bad for a guy that had a panic attack two minutes prior.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - It wouldn’t be a proposal as much as it would be Cormac saying, “Do you want to get married again?”

Who is the best man/men? - Alfie

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - Ewan. He’s the best gay

Who did the most planning? - There really wouldn’t be planning because this is Jeanie’s second wedding. She went all out the first time around, so thisi would be more about just them and an officiant

Who stressed the most? - Jeanie because she was just hyper aware of how her first wedding went and how her first marriage ended

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Honestly, this time around Cormac is gonna have more attendants than Jeanie. She’s an only child and several of her friends were Gordon’s family members, and they’re all gone. As in dead.

Sex:

Who is on top? - This is an equal opportunity sexual relationship

Who is the one to instigate things? - It all depends on the mood. Most nights it’s Jeanie, but Cormac will get in moods that involve supply closets or empty dorms in abandoned schools

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (It’s always the quiet ones)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | (But Cormac is getting more comfortable as they go so it won’t always be just vanilla) Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - 20-30 minutes, sometimes longer and sometimes quicker. Cormac knows all the biological ways to keep Jeanie going.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - 100%, but there’s playful banter over it. All those tricks don’t just work to make her last longer, but also get off more.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - Jeanie’s had a few miscarriages in the past, so she’s given up wanting any kids. Cormac is more keen on being an uncle than a dad. Except they’re both only children, so unless Alfie decides to procreate (yikes lol) or Ewan adopts, they won’t even have that experience. If Jeanie had kids when they met, Cormac would have gladly taken up with them too.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Cormac

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither, but Cormac is picky over how it’s cooked when it or Jeanie aren’t the one doing it

Who does the grocery shopping? - Jeanie. She likes it. Helps her clear her mind.

How often do they bake desserts? - Probably once a week. It’s something they do together.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Jeanie’s good about everything but prefers chicken and fish. Cormac is a meat and potatos guy.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Cormac

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Jeanie

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Neither, but Jeanie is definitely not as apt; Cormac is trained so it’s unfair LOL

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - They’re both neat and share cleaning duties

Who is really against chores? - Neither of them LIKE doing chores, so Cormac really works at making that Jetsons life a reality so a robot can do it for them. Like a very sexy Wayne Zalinsky from Honey I Shrunk The Kids.

Who cleans up after the pets? - The rats belong to Cor, so he takes care of them. Jeanie is just there to love them.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Jeanie shoves everything in a closet or drawers

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - They don’t get guests very often, but

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - fucking lucky Irishman

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Jeanie if they aren’t “conserving water” by showering together

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Uhhh *laughs* In the Dawson’s Creek masturbation sense? Or the actual physical dog.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Jeanie very much into Christmas. Cormac thinks they’re arbitrary but will happily indulge her.

What are their goals for the relationship? - To live as best as they can by supporting and loving each other

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Cormac

Who plays the most pranks? - Neither, Cormac has some anxiety because of his school days.

#cormac x jeanie #otp #super unpredictable 98

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justdyingslowly · 5 years ago

Text

1. Name justdyingslowly obviously come on

2. Nationality Australian

3. Age 22

4. Birthday nnnah dont feel like it

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign) Libra/Scorpio cusp

6. Gender wamon

7. Sexuality very very hetero

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself) androgenous

9. What do you/did you study? Psychology (focus on sexology) and art.

10. What’s your current job like?/What job would you like to have? I am disabled you think I can work ha sexologist would be awesome. When I was a kid I wanted to be a fireman but Australias always burning

11. Your birth order head first

12. How many siblings do you have? 1

13. Do you have good relations with your family? yeah dads finally out of his abusive relationship, nearing age 70 and his emotions and his sexuality are finally opening up for the first time and that makes me SO happy.

14. How many friends do you have? what kind of fucked up question is this.

15. Your relationship status relationshipped. Fiance? got the marriage papers in a drawer somewhere with the car rego but can’t be fucked filling them?

16. What do you look for in a SO? empathetic, mature, calm. Always open to discussion. Prefers to be blunt rather than secretive. Emotional age over 14 (incredibly fucking rare apparently). Puts an importance on context and understanding other views above all else.

17. Do you have a crush? Hellll yeah Crush on my partner and got a crush on a mutual friend of ours who don’t even know hes cute af hehe one day partners gonna accidentally spill the beans and embarrass me coz hes shit with secrets RIP me.

18. When did you have your first kiss? You think I can remember this bullshit? Its not that big a deal

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands? One night stand sex almost exclusively sucks. Just. SUCKS. Because neither of you know what the other likes and it ends up being an awkward mix of trying to please yourself while trying to also be considerate.

20. What are your deal breakers? Plugging your ears to anything that feels gross, uncomfortable or disagrees with you. How can you grow as a person without introspection? How can you mold what you think and believe without taking in other arguments and comparing them to your beliefs to see how they stack up? Its pathetic.

21. How was your day? cute mutual friend had a fall this morning and were both worried about him. His back is bad and he’s getting a little older, he can’t be getting dizzy and having falls like that. other than that im anxious about seeing my gastro. He’s lovely but... specialists are specialists. Good at knowing what they know but not always great at listening.

22. Favourite food & drink you think im allowed to eat or drink? water and... foods a touchy subject.

23. What position do you sleep in? Usually on my side with a body pillow to grip so I don’t end up choking my partner in his sleep.

24. What was your last dream about? uuhhh...going to italy and being unable to get into this tiny basket boat properly.

25. Your fears does PTSD to medical shit count haha

26. Your dreams ... going to italy and being unable to get into a tiny basket boat thingy?

27. Your goals - get some sort of diagnosis eventually. Its been 3 years of trying and im tired. - get back to studying art part time for my bachelors. - pass JLPT N3. - go back to university for psychology. - do the dishes when I get home.

28. Any pets? two budgies. we also take care of any orphaned or injured birds.

29. What are your hobbies? feeling nauseous drawing writing a little bit im making a little gameboy game in C atm too

30. Any cool places in your area? i live next to a national park with waterfalls and koalas and emus and stuff

31. What was your last awkward situation? mutual friend made a comment on his chest i playfully smacked it (related to the comment) it was surprisingly hard “O-oh wow, thats... I didnt expect that” my partner laughed at me. it was awful.

32. What is your last regret? getting embarrassed at friends pecs stop making me think about it 33. Language/s you can speak english. N4 Japanese.

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.) of course not what the fuck

35. Have any quirks? Quirkless. I do wiggle when im happy though apparently.

36. Your pet peeves open doors.

37. Ideal vacation spend a months chilling in an old japanese house in autumn hokkaido oooooof that sounds nice

38. Any scars? internal? yes

39. What does your last text message say? peepee poopoo ustinky

40. Last 5 things from your search history how do i find this

41. What’s your [device] background? Sam Porter Bridges walkin around Sam Porter Bridges cuddling BB-28 Louise while he sleeps my chicken

42. What do you daydream about? all might

43. Describe your dream home an old japanese house in autumn hokkaido oooooof that sounds nice

44. What’s your religion/Your thought about religion its a comforting thought having a parent-figure who cares about you and looks after all the big things you can’t manage yourself, but institutionalizing it runs a severe risk of becoming harmful cults. And it often does.

45. Your personality type me

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done i saw the lost bunny that was on all the posters in the neighbourhood looked thin and patchy so i grabbed him to take him home. im allergic. sent me to hospital and I almost died.

47. Are you happy with your current life? feeling sick sucks and partners having a depressive episode but things are pretty good

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life living

49. What does your wardrobe consist of? blacks, reds, whites and pinks

50. Favourite colour to wear? at the moment pink. Red is always comforting though.

51. How would you describe your style? mix between lazy alternative punk, teenager with band shirts and harajuku peach kawaii uwu

52. Are you happy with your current looks? kinda wish i was a bit shorter but what can you do

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be? bit shorter

54. Any tattoos or piercings? lol no PTSD

55. Do you get complimented often? by who? partner constantly, family haha are you kidding im australian so a friend’s version of showing affection is calling you a cunt and slapping your ass in public

56. Favourite aesthetic? all might

57. A popular trend that you dislike blocking because you disagree or find them distasteful. Ignoring all context to opposing thoughts and arguments. taking a personal feeling of disgust to mean something is evil. Blocking your ears to anything that isn’t a circlejerk of what you already think - and trying to isolate anyone who even just listens to something other then the noise of your sloppy dicks to have a thought of their own.

58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with? The Machine by Low Roar

59. Song you normally wouldn’t admit you like. why wouldnt i admit i like a song

60. Favourite genre? probably enka haha

61. Favourite artist/band/genre? probably enka haha oh and tatsuro yamashita

62. Hated popular songs/artists? why the hell would I hate something like a song? I hate aspects of the music industry as a whole I guess?

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5 which playlist they aren’t all together in one place

64. Can you sing or play any instruments? piano, saxophone... uh... partners good at making music and playing shakuhachi

65. Do you like karaoke? no.

66. Own any albums? yes? many?

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations? no. but triple J, ABC Jazz and Classical. sometimes they even play final fantasy and JRPG music on classical which is pretty neat. -

68. Favourite movie/series? can i make this about games because then the answer is Metal Gear Solid

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc ...shounen?

70. Your fictional crush/es if they’re over 40yrs old, male and happy and bubbily or grumpy and sad then there’s a big ol fat chance I wanna bone. Solid Snake from MGS4, All Might and pretty much anyone drawn by Tarou Madoromi.

71. Which fictional character is you? uh

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so what does this even mean what language is this

73. Favourite greek god? idk hades seems chill

74. A legend from where you live that you like the story of Tjilbruke is funny and good. all Kaurna stories are good.

75. Do you like art? What’s your favourite work or artist? im in a big egon schiele mood atm.

76. Can you share your other social media? no i am incapable

77. Favourite youtubers? many

78. Favourite platform? not too high up. actually i like being a little lower than ground level in corners.

79. How much time do you spend on the internet? too much

80. What video games have you played? Which one’s your favourite? look i just want to say that MGS4 is the best one in the series and Death Stranding is phenomenally engaging.

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts) these are all so goddamn definitive how can I pick? Oh wait the answer is One Piece

82. Do you play board/card games? I play DnD atm and know 15 yr old rules to Yugioh

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema? that shit dosn’t happen here

84. Favourite holiday golden week coz its a week also easter because thats when all the glucose based sweets come back

85. Are you into dramas? what kind

86. Would you use death note, if you had one? no. thats called being a murderer.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to? chill people out a bit. when people feel unsafe they get really depenfive and territorial and block their ears to everything, making in-and-out groups for themsevles that end up putting them in more harm.

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse? im disabled with a disabled partner. we arent funny sure we can survive normal everyday life when society is angled so sharply against us.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be? id like to be a mimi spirit

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death? spooky time

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick? toshinori yagi

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week? anyone healthy

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo that cursed one with the intense eyes and the hand

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true im me im not me im pee

95. Cold or hot? cold.

96. Be a hero or be a villain? both are distasteful ideas in reality

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme? i can’t do either partner speak sin bad puns and its hell, these both sound about equal

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time? shapeshifting. controlling time is eithe rmanipulative or lonely. shapeshifing is every other superpower at once.

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death? both are deeply upsetting ideas

100. ….. or …..? jiji or ossan? generally Jiji, but ossans can be lovely too.

#personal #stupid

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gayoperatorgunclub · 4 years ago

Note

Is the ultimate ship meme still open? If so, may we p-please get Thatcher/Kaid for it ÓwÒ

i think this’ll be the last one i do for right now, but feel free to send more in!!! it’ll just take a while for me to get to em. anyways, here are your old men:

General:

How long will they last? - til one of them dies but i think they’d be the types to grow old together, just without any of the relaxing that usually comes with that trope. they both decided when they were very young that they’d work til they died

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - slowly, but steadily. neither are very outwardly affectionate, but it’s clear to everyone around them that they’re in love

How was their first kiss? - they had been sparring, when jalal leant down and gave a mike a lil kiss :)

Wedding:

Who proposed? - jalal. they were watching the sunset on mike’s boat, and he just gently pressed the ringbox into mike’s hand

Who is the best man/men? - for mike: sledge. for jalal: oryx

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - for mike: dokkaebi. for kaid: nomad

Who did the most planning? - neither! they don’t really enjoy big ceremonies

Who stressed the most? - they were both nervous, but they’re both at that stage in life where they know better than to stress too much. they’re just chill grandpas with trauma :*)

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - they didn’t really invite anyone to the wedding besides the neccessary witnesses and close friends, but ig mike’s ex

Sex:

Who is on top? - i think they switch, but more often than not mike’s on top

Who is the one to instigate things? - both! they usually schedule it tho

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - they are OLD!!!!!!! so not very long

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - multiple orgasms??? at this age?????

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - they have enough kids in rainbow as it is, the last thing they need is actual children running around, especially on a boat. jalal’s sphynx cat is more than enough, thanks

How many children will they adopt? - ALL OF RAINBOW

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - neither

Who is the stricter parent? - the two of them are sometimes the only semblance of a parent to these operators, so they simultaneously have to be firm, but nurturing. luckily, they’ve both perfected the art of Fathering

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - the amount of times jalal has explained to a drunk oryx that he can’t run through concrete, or mike has told smoke that mustard gas has been banned from war, so no he can’t use it during training is truly worrying

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - idk but mike is the more protective one. if anyone outside of rainbow makes some bigoted/racist comment to one of His Kids, he’ll have to be restrained by seamus and gilles before he beats their ass (one time some dipshit was catcalling dokki, and mike almost committed a murder)

Who is the more loved parent? - depends on the op!

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - in the event an operator is severely injured during a mission (physically or emotionally), their Government-Assigned Dad WILL be present when harry comes to interview them or w/e. gotta protect the kids from Institution, you know?

Who cried the most at graduation? - they don’t cry, but they do give massive bear hugs whenever something big happens for one of the other ops

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - mike, as long as they had a good reason

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - jalal. mike can only acquire food, he knows nothing about preparing it

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - mike. he hates stringy cheese

Who does the grocery shopping? - mike. he always complains about jalal spending too much on brand name stuff when the store brand version is just as good, AND significantly cheaper!

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever one of them has time to pick up cake or ice cream or something

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - meat lover meat lover meat lover meat lover

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - mike, with maestro’s assistance

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - also mike, but he demands takeout. stupid ass hermit man

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - mike is not allowed to cook because of this

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - jalal. he’s very neat and orderly

Who is really against chores? - mike hates cleaning. slob.

Who cleans up after the pets? - mike acts like jalal’s cat is a nuisance, but he secretly adores her, so he makes sure her litterbox is always clean, fills her water dish, and gives her extra treats

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - mike

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - neither. they don’t invite guests over (they joke about seamus legally being a resident of the Iron Maiden since he’s there so often)

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - seamus. mike immediately demanded it be given to him as seamus’ rent

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - jalal’s cat

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - when both jalal and mike are on a mission, seamus and adriano will take care of jalal’s cat, which includes taking her for walks like a dog. she’s a very adventurous little lady

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - mike has fairy lights strung up around the boat, but that’s about it

What are their goals for the relationship? - mutual contentment and companionship!!!!

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - jalal’s cat

Who plays the most pranks? - jalal :)

#sorry this took so long bud!!! school sucks >:(#ask #anonymous #r6s thatcher #r6s kaid #thatcher/kaid #ass alert!#thank you for interacting!

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vnights · 4 years ago

Text

A different kind of mad.

———

Ixi’s on her bull again. Come read about Aya escaping her own personal torment, and invading someone else’s! Consider this Ixi’s personal writing entirely for fun, so, things may move a bit quick, some things may not make sense, yadda yadda, crossover nonsense. Enjoy ???

———

Entertainment is just as important as education is to a child. To deprive one of that is downright cruel. This is why, with Alfred out of the picture, Maria did her best to erase all those horrible memories, and fill them in with new, more exciting ones. This was rather hard to achieve, though, as Aya’s whole world was stripped away from her in a single night, with the added trauma that her own father, the one who loved her so dearly, tried to end her life, as he did her mother. All of these damages attacked her at once, and she’s no longer that happy child she once was.

This is why today has to be special.

Without explaining why, Maria packed Aya up and boarded a plane, traveling all the way from Germany to be here in America. They got an animal-friendly hotel room, did some shopping, checked out minor attractions, but this.. This was the highlight. Standing outside the building, Maria placed a hand on the youngers shoulder to stop her for a moment, pointing to the signs taped to the windows.

“Opp- Uh oh.. Read there..”

“Uh..” Aya looked up to see a very disappointing sign. No animals allowed.. “But.. Snowball..”

“I’m afraid Snowball can’t go in.. Oh well..”

“But- We came all the way here..”

“...That’s okay. Why don’t you still go in? I can stay out here and watch your bunny. There’s a nice public park nearby where we can play, I just want you to have a good time.”

“Wh-? Are you sure? But, you’ve done everything so far! It’s all been about me, I want you to have-“

“-I’m the adult, it is my job, Mistress. Please, don’t worry about me! Go on, go have fun, we’ll be waiting for you.”

The woman held her hands out, wearing a pleased smile as Aya reached towards her, allowing the bunny in her arms to jump over. The girl was then handed a small dictionary just in case, and an envelope of US currency. Now, Aya being all set, it’s time to part from one another, something that’s reasonably tense. Nevertheless, Aya wanted to fulfill Maria’s hopes, and waved goodbye as she entered the building, all by herself.

Instantly, she was hit with a heavy smell of pizza, the sound of music and laughter, and colorful, happy sights all around. Fazbears seemed like the perfect detox for the remaining Drevis. While, it certainly isn’t to Maria’s standards of entertainment, it was cheap enough for the cash she worked tooth and nail to scrape up. It was either a nice hotel and a sub-par attraction, or a really nice movie-dinner, and sleeping in their rental cab, don’t blame her. Looking around, Aya spotted the main counter with a short line of people waiting, deciding to skip over and wait in line, herself.

Within no time, little Aya got checked in, and even has her own little wrist-band and cup of tokens as proof! Now, walking into the main area, her eyes lit up at all the games, and especially at those adoring animatronics!.. So shiny and colorful! Now, with so much to do, where to even start? She’s never even been to a public playground, being so isolated since birth..

...She got to see a show, she got to play around, she even had a good bite to eat. But, unfortunately, Aya did all this alone. She saw mothers and their kids, and she was reminded of Maria, who was waiting for her on the outside. But.. Seeing fathers with their kids, now that’s where the issues rose. Her incredibly unhealthy plate of pizza was interrupted as she looked on, watching a very small child waddle over from her mom to her dad, getting scooped up for kisses and raspberries. Immediately, Ayas stomach began to sour, feeling cramps and dirty moths fill her innards, scooting away from the table and choosing to simply walk away. Her new point of interest was the farthest corner of the room, approaching a dusty, unused table with a sloppily-placed holiday fabric laying over it.

With an arm over her stomach, she got down and crawled underneath the drape, shuffling to the corner to sit in shelter, hiding away from the rest of the world beneath this gum-stapled table. Her father was terrible, and she knows in her heart that it’s for the best he’s gone. But, that doesn’t mean everything just.. Goes away. When he was good, he was really good, and she desperately longs for those memories, despite what became of Alfred. The girl brought her knees to her chest and rested her hands atop of them, sniffing sadly as her eyes dampened, trying to shake this unfortunate tummy-ache. Before long, she found herself in a strange position..

...She opened her eyes, and everything was different. Little Aya fell asleep, and, being somewhere so mysterious, she was missed during lock-up. Rubbing her face and waking up, she shook her head and crawled out, peering out at the darkness captivating the once lively building. Shuddering, she held her hands together and began walking, carefully looking around the corners, just making absolutely sure she won’t see anything scary, this time.

Speaking of seeing something scary, not too far away, sitting back in his chair, the night-guard placed a warm cup of coffee to his lips, his eyes skimming over the not-so-active cams as he enjoyed the early moments of the night. Setting his drink aside, he flipped through the cameras, and received a major heart-attack. Jumping with a heavy gasp, the man placed a hand on his chest, and quickly moved to grab a newspaper nearby, rolling it up in a tube-like shape, and getting up from his desk to approach the hall, not leaving the room.

“Hey, uhhh.. The hell are you doin’ here?!..” Jeremy shouted through the tube, awaiting any kind of response, moving back to the cams to see the girls reaction.

Aya jumped, beginning to tug at her dress nervously as she felt a scolding coming on. He- He used a bad word!... Looking around, she tried to follow the distant voice. “I- I’m sorry-! I fell asleep, I didn’t mean too-!”

“Look- It don’t matter! Ts’fine! Just.. Can you come where I am? Can you come n’ join me? I can’t leave you there alone, and I can’t really leave my post, so!.. Y’know!..” Look, okay, Jeremy’s good with kids, but he’s not responsible with them. Expecting this to go well is like expecting a cat to bark.. Luckily, Aya was always quick to listen to adults, following along to his words. “Good job, good girl! Coooome on now, you’re doing great-“

Jeremy continued to guide the child straight to him, wasting far too much time not checking on the animatronics at the start of the night while doing so. It took quite a while, but Aya eventually stumbled down that long hallway, being able to see the man at the other end of it. He greatly rushed her to hurry, scooping her up upon first opportunity, and setting her down in the desk chair, beginning to get a look at Aya.

“There you are, there ya are, ya okay, blue-eyes? What happened? How come you’re still here?”

“I-I fell asleep under a table, I’m sorry..” Ah, the feeling of guilt. It’s a strong emotion, certainly.

Picking up on her slightly unusual accent for this area, Jeremy merely sighed, deciding against his stricter-speaking. She seems a bit more oblivious than other children.. “..Don’t worry about it, I can.. Eehh, I can drive you home, or whatever. Gotta expect this stuff workin’ at a kids place.. You just sit tight an’ lemme work, ‘kay?” As she nodded, he groaned, turning back to his station, now with the inconvenience of standing. This was gonna murder his back in the morning.. Though, despite everything, he proceeded, hoping to keep her attention kept off the animatronics strange behavior. “...So, where ya from? You live here, or.. Vacation?”

“Vacation, I think.. Maria and I flew in from Northern Germany, so..”

“Geerrrrmaaan.” Seems he was satisfied. Accent placed. Neat. “Maria? Older cousin or somethin’?” Please don’t say step-mom, that’s gonna be so awkward-

“Maria’s fathers assistant at our home. Or, she was, before he.. Um.. Passed away.. Now she’s pretty much my caretaker. My mother passed away, too, a while ago..”

“Oh. Oh, gees, uh, sorry ‘bout that. You’ve gotta be in good hands if she dropped you off here though, right? Fazbears, where friends n’ family come to life, or somethin’.”

“Yeah, she’s nice.. She’s not like mother or father, but she’s nice..”

“Hey..” Jeremy tapped her knee playfully, getting Aya to make eye contact. “Mom’s n’ dad’s aren’t everything. They take care of you, an’ play with you, and keep you fed n’ stuff, all until you’re like.. 14, then suddenly you’re a freeloader who needs to start doing somethin’ with your life.” Nnnnot what she was expecting, but, she’s intrigued.. “Your chores get harder, you need a part time job, toys you really want suddenly become special and you need to buy them yourself. Speaking of toys, you’re suddenly too old for them, but not old enough to talk back, or do anything you want. Then, you get older, and your parents expect you to move out. Get your own home, pay your own bills, move on with your life, but they also wanna keep you under their wing, so now you gotta call every Monday, and if you don’t, they call, and nag at you. Ya love em’, but they’re annoying. But.. You love em’. Stinks they’re gone, and I am sorry, but.. There’s perks, too...” The older ended with a shrug. He may have reflected a bit, but, he wanted to plant an alternative thought that’s not super depressing.

..She’s never thought about growing up like that.. Would mother really have done that? Would father? She knows growing up involves taking care of ones self, but.. The chores, the calls, the toys, that all seems like a whole lot. Not that it modified her opinion of her parents, no, not at all, but.. Maria isn’t having her do any of that, right?.. Toying with her hands in her lap, staring at them, Aya sighed somewhat sadly and tried to find a polite, proper answer.

“My, I never thought of those things.. Did your parents do that?..”

“Pff, yeah. A bit overbearing, but, I’m well on my feet. I take it your folks paid plenty’a attention to you? Seeing as you’re dressed like a lil’ Christmas angel, and all.”

“Oh, these are my play clothes, Maria said. Laundry machine and dirt safe.”

“Your wardrobe gets fancier? Jesus Christ, girl, you royalty or something? Am I in the presence of a lil’ princess?”

Aya let out a small giggle, shaking her head, and becoming rather excited to mention a.. Little quirk about her life. “No, but I did live in a castle.. Well, it was a mansion, but it was a very big one!”

“Aw man, really? I gotta dinky little apartment, that sounds amazing! You’re so small, what’d you need all that room for?”

“Father needed the space for work. We often had many guests..”

“I imagine so. So, moved after things went downhill? Where do you stay, now?”

The two continued to talk throughout the night, Aya ignoring all the oddities occurring through the nightly hours, seeing how visibly uncomfortable it made Jeremy. She ended up sleeping on floor underneath the desk, using the olders jacket as a blanket until the sun rose. And, once it had, Jeremy wasted no time to get the H out of there, taking Aya with him, and setting her gently in the backseat of his crappy car, taking her straight to the police station for assistance in finding her caretaker. Before long, Maria had been located, contacted, and beckoned down to the precinct to retrieve Aya.

But not without a word, first.

The moment that woman arrived, Jeremy was yawning, feeling this very rational anger boil up inside. Aya was still lovingly asleep, fortunately being spared from seeing this interaction. As Maria approached in panic, she looked in the car window, then turned her attention to the young man waiting. “Oh my gosh, I- I couldn’t find her, I had no idea what to do! I’m astonished, thank you, thank you s-!”

“-‘Ey, c’mon, sshh. C’mere, just.. Just c’mere a sec.” He was quick to hush the situation. “Do you know.. A.. Very special little thing about Fazbears, twin-braids?”

“A-?.. I.. I don’t, I apologize, I tried to find her-“

“-Look, I can forgive losin’ kids, they’re stupid little gremlins at all times, that’s the least of it- But, are you aware that Fazbears has a history of kids going missing? And, either turning up dead, or never turning up at all? Do you know how effing lucky you are to be able to see this baby again?..” Holding a sassy hand out towards her, he gestured out his frustrations, watching her expression sour with worry. With that, Jeremy continued. “So many families have been left hollowed and gutted, and you could’a been one of ‘em. It’s nice you wanted to give Aya a nice time to remember, but.. The city’s dangerous. It’s real dangerous. You endangered her by leavin’ her alone, and I’m actually kind of reluctant to let her back with ya, if I’m honest. I know I have too, she just fell asleep, but.. You could’a been called here for a much different reason, and I think you should appreciate that a lil’ bit. Get your kid outta my car so I can go home.”

It was difficult to process all of that. She certainly felt guilty, but now, even more so. Kids go missing there? She should have done more research, she should have been more aware, she shouldn’t have left Aya alone, but this mans temper seems to be reaching a limit, and she’d rather not push it. Instead, Maria simply nodded with a thanks, and went to wake the girl, opening the car door and peeking inside with a smile, shaking Ayas foot.

“Aya, Aya, wake up..”

With a shuffle and a grumble, she stretched and sat up, giving the older a tired smile. “Maria-! How did you get here? Wh..ere am I?”

“We’re at the police station, mistress. You were driven by-... Mmmm?...”

“Jeremy?..”

Maria, looking over for confirmation, chuckled and nodded. “Yes, he drove you, and called me, and now we’re here!.. Where on earth did you go? Did you not hear me looking for you? We’re you hiding-?”

Rubbing her eyes, Aya worked on getting out of the vehicle. “I started feeling bad, so I went under the table, and then I woke up and it was all dark..”

Through more small talk and conversation, Maria got Aya back, Aya is safe again, and Jeremy has his jacket back. Everything worked out, he was able to protect her and get her home, and everyone’s happy. Or, really so you’d think. Jeremy was left with a terrible taste in his mouth, still carrying sleepy bitterness home with him as he drove with a hand in his mouth, biting away at his already aching nails. Once at home, he unlocked his door and stepped inside, kicking his shoes off as he strolled straight to bed, working on removing his socks upon laying down. The softness of his mattress was so captivating, opening his eyes only to look over at the photos on his bedside table. His friends, his first-related family, and a family portrait he isn’t in, but a tiny girl is. This is why Ayas situation made him so mad. She’s such a sweet girl, so tiny and innocent, and yet, she was lost in the dark with a stranger and killer animatronics. Jeremy didn’t have to take care of her the way he did. But, he knows one thing to be true.

If that was his little sister, he’d want someone to do the same.

———

Random art below !

#fic hours #Aya Drevis #Jeremy Fitzgerald #//got out my Mad Father craze nonsense !!!!!! and also wrote Jeremy a lil’ bit so I’m satisfied :)#my art

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jamaisjoons · 6 years ago

Text

intro: her II ⤑ knj | m

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞singe dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 9k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of child neglect and abandonment but nothing too great, talk of abortion, i think that’s it?

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: EYE have no excuses for why this took so long to write. But here it is, the long awaited chapter 2!

⏤ Rewritten as of 23/02/2020

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Chapter 2: Pirates and Flashbacks

As you stand in front of the large, opulent building, you gawk at the pristine white walls, crystal clear glass and immaculately kept garden. Everything about the building screams money and suddenly you aren’t sure if this is a good idea. Currently, you’re stood outside Namjoon’s home, two neatly wrapped gifts in your hand as you nervously fidgeted about. Today’s the day of the twins’ birthday party and a part of you wants to turn around and run. You don’t belong in this world. You’re completely out of place, dressed in your nicest pair of jeans and a fashionable jumper - considering it’s winter -, and yet while staring at the palace-like home; you can’t help but still feel nervous.

You take in a deep breath and gather all the courage you can muster up before pressing the buzzer. Taking a step back, your fidget with your jumper as you attempt to make yourself presentable; picking at the non-existence lint on the wool. A couple of moments later, someone answers the intercom and a face pops up out of nowhere. To your surprise, it’s Hoseok - and not some random member of staff that Namjoon must have hired to take care of his home. Because really, how else would he be able to look after the entire mansion he considers a house? With uncertainty prevalent in your eyes, you stare at the moving image of Hoseok, waving back hesitantly at his exuberant wave. You’re almost worried his hand will fall off with how intensely it moves.

“____! Hi! Come on in,” Hoseok greets you cheerily and you smile at him. Abruptly, his face disappears and the screen goes blank again. However, you don’t have to wait long because, soon, the gates to Namjoon’s house begin creaking open. Sucking in a nervous breath, you stay your nerves as much as you can before entering. By the time you get to the front door, Hoseok is already there, greeting you with a warm welcome.

“____, it’s nice of you to come. The boys haven’t stopped speaking about you. Jungkookie keeps pestering Namjoon-ah, asking him when you’d get here. Which, is quite surprising, because Jungkook hates strangers. But lately, you’re all he can talk about,” Hoseok says with a booming laugh, making small conversation. You’re slightly startled by his words, wondering what about you had enamoured the four-year-old so much.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s only because I helped him when he got lost,” you explain causing Hoseok to let out a small hum. Looking at you from the corner of his eye, his eyes glisten mischievously.

“Maybe… all we know is that he won’t stop talking about you,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face. Hoseok navigates through the maze-like home with relative ease, and you wonder just how close he is to Namjoon. You know they work for the same company and have been friends for years, but they must be incredibly close for Namjoon’s children to call him ‘hyung’, and for him to be able to wander through the house easily, without getting lost.

Before long, you and Hoseok find yourself in a large, minimalistic living room. Neutral and white tones surround you everywhere and a part of you wonders how this can be a family home. It looks more like a bachelor pad than anything else. Although, you assume that that stems from Namjoon being a single dad. The neat, almost clinical room is somewhat ruined by the brightly coloured toys strewn all over. Colourful banners and balloons are littered all over and a huge sign saying ‘Happy birthday Jimin and Taehyung’ meets your eyes. You want to continue taking in the sights, but instead, your eyes widen at the sheer chaos surrounding you.

There’s a small group of children running rampant, screaming and yelling as they chase each other. Taehyung is at the forefront of the yelling, a huge boxy smile on his face as he screeches and laughs, dragging a giggling Jimin behind him as the two try and get away from the other three chasing them. The two are holding hands as tightly as they can, both of them holding large plastic swords in the free hands; pirate hats too big for their small heads falling into their eyes. Your eyebrows furrow, looking around for Jungkook. You don’t have to look for long, though, because you find him gripping Namjoon’s trousers, clinging as hard as he can onto his father.

Namjoon is standing with Yoongi and Seokjin, all of them sipping drinks. Every now and then you see one of them glance at the kids, trying to keep an eye on them. There’s also a couple standing with them, but you can’t recognise who they are. Hoseok slowly guides you to them, the group of adults turning to you. The minute Jungkook spots you, however, his previously reserved face, immediately lights up. You watch as he quickly let’s go off Namjoon’s leg, instead, running up to you. Jungkook collides with your legs, his arms wrapped around them as he flashes you his bunny-esque smile.

“____-noona! You came!” Jungkook cries with happiness and you grin at him, rearranging the presents you’re holding in your arms to pet his head. Namjoon smiles brightly at you, dimples poking out, Seokjin waving at you while Yoongi nods his greeting. The couple, however, looks at you in surprise.

“I’ve never seen little Kook so excited to see someone,” the guy jokes, the female smacking him hard on the shoulder.

“Sooyun, Jaebeom, this is ____, the one I was telling you about,” Namjoon introduces and you bow slightly at the two of them.

“Ah! The famous ____, who Jungkook has yet to stop talking about,” Sooyun teases, eyes sparkling as she looks down at Jungkook

“Sooyunie-noona stop teasing me!” Jungkook pouts, stomping his foot in frustration. You look at the usually quiet boy in surprise, eyes widening somewhat at the light blush dusting his cheeks.

“Nochu, go play with your hyungs,” Namjoon says, trying to shoo the young boy away, but Jungkook just clings to you tighter.

“I don’t want to daddy, Suri is always pinching my cheeks and then they hurt,” Jungkook says with a small pout, dragging out the ends of his words as he rubs his cheeks slightly.

“Yes, well my daughter does take after her mother,” Jaebeom says mischievously as he eyes Sooyun, causing her to smack him on the shoulder again while he laughs.

“As if you don’t teach her to keep away from boys by being as annoying as she can be. Anyway, I’m sure Sungwoo and Jaewoo will stop her from pinching your cheeks Kookie,” Sooyun says kindly and Jungkook looks at her hesitantly before turning his gaze back to his father, who nods reassuringly.

“You’ll have Jimin and Taehyung too, Nochu,” Namjoon finally says and Jungkook lets out a defeated sigh before running off with a pout. You watch as he shyly walks up to the older group, Jimin and Taehyung grinning brightly at him before grabbing him by the hand and dragging him along. More importantly, you can’t help but notice the look of glee on Suri’s face when Jungkook joins the group.

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually got him to leave your side,” Yoongi snorts and you turn your attention back to the group of adults, Namjoon blushing bright red as Seokjin and Hoseok laugh at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Namjoon sputters and Yoongi gives him a knowing look.

“That you baby the hell out of that boy, to the point that he is quite literally glued to your leg,” Yoongi deadpans, causing Namjoon to blush deeper.

“Come on Yoongi, cut him some slack. He can’t help it if Kook is his baby, he is Namjoonie’s youngest, and the fact that he’s so shy,” Sooyun cuts in as she coos about Jungkook. Yoongi simply lets out a small smirk as he shrugs.

“Moving on, so _____, tell me about you! I heard you were a vet of some sort? At Coex aquarium?” Sooyun says, drawing the attention back to you. You find yourself blushing under the stares of everyone, especially Yoongi.

“Umm… ah yes Sooyun-ssi, it’s where and how I found Jungkook. But I’m sure you know that already,” you reply, the older woman smiling at you.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you here. Ever since Jimin and Taehyung befriended Jaewoo and Sungwoo, I’ve always been the only woman, other than my Suri that is. But you can see why she doesn’t count,” Sooyun laughs, smiling brightly and you nod, responding with your own smile.

“Yes, well I heard you’re a massive Agust D fan. That must have rubbed a sore spot with Namjoon and Hoseok,” Jaebeom stage whispers conspiratorially and once again you find yourself blushing while stuttering, unsure of what to say.

“I-I-I… ummm. I like all their music! It’s just Agust D was the reason I got into rap music and his music and lyrics helped me out in some really tough situations. The lyrics just mean more to me… OH GOD! Not that your lyrics don’t mean anything, they are all very meaningful and quite frankly beautiful but… I’m just going to stop talking now,” you mumble as you trail off from your panicky rant. The searing heat of embarrassment warms your face, all the way from the tips of your ears to your neck while you mentally kick yourself, wondering how likely it was for the ground to swallow you whole.

You find yourself cringing even harder as Seokjin and Hoseok’s loud laughs fill your ears, clearly finding amusement from the situation. Namjoon glares at both of them, silently gesturing to them to shut up, only causing them to snicker louder. From the corner of your eyes, you look at Yoongi, and though his head is slightly turned away from you, you spot the faintest blush on his cheeks, an imperceptible smile on his face. Seeing his smile, you calm down in the slightest, knowing that despite making an ass of yourself, your words are appreciated by the famous rapper.

“Ah, thank you ____-ssi,” Yoongi says quietly, clearly not used to the praise. You grace him with a shy smile, Namjoon looking between the two of you with an unreadable expression.

“Sooyun-ssi, you mentioned being the only woman, surely Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook’s mother is also around to keep you company?” you ask in an attempt to change the subject. However, as soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re filled with instant regret. Instantly, the light, airy atmosphere shifts.

Seokjin and Hoseok immediately stop laughing, drawing up to their full heights as they turn to Namjoon wearily. Namjoon’s gaze immediately hardens, his chin protruding out as he looks away, the muscles around his jaw clenching as he grits his teeth. Yoongi’s features fall, his face turning passive, but you can tell he’s angry from the way his fists are clenched by his side. Jaebeom looks at you in shock, while Sooyun smiles apologetically towards you.

The only noises you can hear are the children still running about and yelling, their laughter juxtaposed by the thick tension surrounding the adults. A couple of moments pass in awkward silence and you’re unsure what to say. Clearly, you’ve hit a sore point. However, just as you open your mouth to apologise, Namjoon finally speaks. He turns his gaze to you and you immediately freeze, eyes slightly wide at the cold, hard stare he levels at you.

“They have no mother,” Namjoon spits out, before turning on his heel and walking away. Seokjin and Hoseok smile tentatively at you before running after him. Yoongi lets out a sigh and walks to the children, Jaebeom following him. You stare wide-eyed at Sooyun, stuttering as you try to find something to say.

“I- Sorry about that. The boys’ mother… it’s a touchy subject. Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Sooyun says, grabbing your hand and dragging you away from the living room and into the kitchen. Once she gets there, she opens the fridge before, “orange or multifruit? What’s your choice?” she asks, holding up two bottles of juice. You make your choice and Sooyun smiles, pouring you a glass before handing it to you. “That’s the only downside about kids’ parties, no alcohol. Take a seat,” Sooyun jokes, smiling before gesturing to one of the chairs in the kitchen. Taking the drink with a slight bow, you take a seat while looking around nervously. Sooyun sits across from you and stares for a couple moments. Shifting under her gaze, you’re unsure of what to say.

Finally, after long, tense moments, you decide to break the silence. “Ummm, I’m sorry but did I do something wrong?” you ask timidly and Sooyun sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose before sending you a small, regretful smile.

“Yes and no. Obviously, it’s clear Namjoon’s ex-wife is a sore spot for him. You aren’t at fault because really, you had no idea. But bringing it up… bringing her up around him isn’t a wise decision from what I know,” Sooyun says tentatively and you nod, sipping your juice lightly. Once again, you fall into an awkward silence, unsure whether you should ask or not. A part of you wants to know, but the major half of you knows it’s rude to ask - especially, considering you barely know Namjoon.

“Aren’t you going to tell her?” a voice breaks in, startling you as it cuts the silence. The two of you turn to spot Yoongi leaning against the doorway, his nonchalant gaze trained on you.

“I wasn’t sure whether I should. Besides, I don’t really know anything. Namjoon doesn’t really speak about it,” Sooyun says with a shrug, Yoongi nodding as he pulls up a seat next to you. He continues staring at you, his expression unreadable; making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“I think I’ll join Jae in watching the kids,” Sooyun says, excusing herself from the room. You sit up straight, looking at Yoongi warily. Even without knowing he was one of Korea’s most famous and fastest rappers, he exudes a stoic but powerful aura that instantly has you wanting to shrink into your seat.

“I’m not going to bite your head off, you can relax,” Yoongi says after a couple minutes of terse silence.

“I’m- I’m sorry about bringing it up. I didn’t know,” you apologise but Yoongi waves you off, his rings glinting in the light.

“The fact that you didn’t know, means you don’t have to be sorry. Namjoon… tends to overreact when she’s mentioned. Granted, for the right reasons. She was a bitch. But nevertheless, his reaction was over the top and he shouldn’t have treated you like that. He’s equally in the wrong,” Yoongi begins explaining and you relax at his words: now more curious about the situation than anything.

“I… would you mind telling me about her?” you ask, before “but you don’t have to! I understand it’s not my place to ask about it,” you quickly follow sheepishly, looking away as you rub your arm in anxiousness. Yoongi lets out a scoff, causing you to sink into your seat.

“What do you think I came here for? Believe it or not, it’s better if you know. Especially considering it seems like you’re probably going to be in Namjoon’s life a lot more,” Yoongi says, and your eyebrows furrowing, wondering what he means,

“I don’t think I’m all that important and after today, I highly doubt Namjoon will want to see me again anyway,” you reply. Your words cause Yoongi to snort.

“You’re wrong for two reasons. The first is Namjoon is hot-headed when it comes to Jihee. He’ll get over it and as soon as he does and his mind is clear, he’ll feel bad and apologise. Secondly, in case you didn’t already realise, Jungkook is majorly spoiled and babied by Namjoon. If he wants something, and it’s within Namjoon’s means to get it, he’s getting it. Same with Jimin and Taehyung, but especially Jungkook; considering he’s the youngest. Jungkook likes you. He hasn’t stopped talking about you this entire week and it almost drove Namjoon mad. Jungkook wants to see you, he’s attached to you and since he doesn’t get attached easily, Namjoon will make sure you’re somehow, someway in their lives,” Yoongi explains and you nod, unsure of what to do with the information.

It comes as a shock: being suddenly thrust into Namjoon’s world is daunting; not only is he a popular rapper and artist figure, but he’s also the father of three children at a young age of only 24 years old. But when you think about Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook, you can’t help but not care. The children are entirely too adorable - a trap for anyone. You can’t help but want to be a part of their lives. And then there’s Namjoon. Handsome, breathtakingly beautiful Namjoon. With smooth honey-kissed tan skin, a button nose, plush lips and deep dimples. And that was all excluding his god-like proportions. If you hadn’t seen him in flesh, you would have assumed he was some sort of Adonis, sculpted by the gods themselves. That was the unnerving part.

But if you really think about it, you don’t mind being in his life either. In fact, you can’t help but want to be part of his life.

“Namjoon’s ex-wife is Oh Jihee,” Yoongi says, pulling you out of your thoughts with a start.

You stare at him in wide-eyed astonishment, mouth gaping as you stutter. “O-Oh Jihee? As in Korea’s sweetheart, Oh Jihee? Supermodel and highest-paid actress Oh Jihee? That Oh Jihee?” you question in incredulity, Yoongi rolling his eyes before nodding.

“Yes her. She wasn’t always Korea’s sweetheart,” Yoongi spits out the title, tone laced with disgust.

“What happened? I haven’t heard anything about her being married to Namjoon? Or to anyone in general. I mean, we’ve known he has children - but she’s never once spoken about having children. I didn’t even know he was married beforehand - or that she was married to him,” you reply. Your words make Yoongi grunt.

“He tries to keep them out of the public as much as he can. Besides, if the public ever found out his ex-wife is Oh Jihee and that they have children together, could you imagine the field day the press would have? Both of them have covered their tracks as well as they can. They even had their marriage annulled rather than a straight divorce. Took a while, but it happened. This was before she became who she is now. She didn’t want to come off in a negative light. Which she would have considering she neglected and abandoned her children,” Yoongi spat out and you reel back, eyes wide. You couldn’t even fathom giving up children as adorably well behaved as Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook - though, you figure that’s more Namjoon’s influence on them than anything.

“Namjoon and Jihee went to the same high school. It was a classic dumbass cliché. Namjoon wasn’t always as he is now, he used to be the class nerd. Don’t get me wrong, he always had a love for music and we spent a lot of time writing and composing music together. That’s how we met each other. But I digress. Namjoon never really cared for her, he was too busy making music and studying. I think that’s what caught her attention. That almost everyone had a crush on her, but there was Namjoon, practically ignoring her existence in pursuit of his own dreams. She was the most popular girl in school and she was intrigued that someone wasn’t paying attention to her, I guess,” Yoongi begins to explain and you cock an eyebrow, causing Yoongi to chuckle.

“As I said, classic dumbass cliché,” Yoongi replies and despite yourself, you giggle, causing him to let out a small smile before it dies as he continues with the story.

“The weirdest day was when Jihee started noticing Namjoon. It was suspicious at most, considering they ran in different circles. Namjoon didn’t really care for her and just sort of let it happen. It started with her asking him to tutor him, then her asking for him to show her his music. They started hanging out a lot more and eventually, Namjoon fell for her. And he fell hard. I can still remember the day they started dating. Almost the entire school was talking about it. School nerd and most popular girl. It was like a damn movie. But they eventually got over it. Namjoon considered himself in love and so did Jihee. Apparently, she liked that he was different. That all changed one-day,” Yoongi continues, his eyes glazing slightly as he stares at seemingly nothing.

{Flashback: Feb 2012}

Jihee: Namjoon, I need to speak to you. Meet me by the plum blossom tree, you know the one.

Namjoon stared at his phone screen in worry, hands shaking uneasily as dread filled him. He had no idea why Jihee had suddenly texted him out of the blue - at 1am at night nonetheless. More than that, he had no idea why she sounded so serious. His Jihee was happy, bubbly and used an excessive amount of x’s and heart emojis. Quite frankly, the text scared him. Countless of thoughts were going through his head, the worst of them were of Jihee breaking off their two-year relationship.

They were both 18 now and soon, they’d be going to university. Namjoon to study a double major in business and music, and Jihee to study the performing arts. That was the best part of their relationship; they both supported each other’s dreams. Namjoon clutched his phone harder. They had survived through a lot, and he considered himself in love. Ideally, he’d want to marry Jihee once they were both done with university. However, her text seriously scared him. He didn’t know what he’d do if she broke up with him.

Namjoon’s legs were screaming as they continued running. He was panting and out of breath, but he knew he had to get to her. Another couple of minutes later, he made it to the old plum blossom tree in the park. He skids to a halt, eyes squinting in the dark, his breath fogging as he panted, gasping for air. Once he finally collected himself, he looked around more clearly. It didn’t take him long to spot her. Even in the dark, in the cold winter night, she looked beautiful. Not that she was ever not beautiful to him. He walked slowly to her, taking in her figure sitting on the frosted grass. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her face buried between them as her dark long hair cascaded around her.

When he got to her, she looked up and Namjoon’s heart broke as their eyes met, hers filled with unshed tears. Namjoon’s eyes softened as he took in how small she looked. She was always so confident, so full and sure of herself. He’d never seen her look so small or defeated. He immediately crouched down and pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. As soon as she was in his arms, she let out a sob, her body shaking as she began crying in his arms. Namjoon’s heart broke a second time and he simply held her, cooing at her as he tried to calm her down.

“Namjoon… we- we have a problem,” Jihee stuttered, hiccupping every couple of moments as she pushed him away, looking at him earnestly. Namjoon shakes his head, wiping her tears before smiling at her reassuringly.

“Whatever it is, we’ll go through it together,” Namjoon says and Jihee’s lip quivers and then she says it. The words that will change his life forever.

“I’m pregnant,” Jihee confesses and Namjoon stiffens, eyes widening as he looks at her in shock. He tries to speak, stuttering out a few non-sensical words that sound more like random sounds than anything else and Jihee looks at him in fear and worry. It takes him a couple moments to register and process the information. He sits down next to her, staring off into space as he tries to figure out what to do next. There’s no doubt in his mind now, he knows he’s going to stay with Jihee and marry her. But they were still barely adults themselves, going off into university. Finally, he comes to a decision.

“Let’s get married,” Namjoon says out of the blue and Jihee looks at him in shock. This time, it’s her turn to stutter.

“What?!” She screams and Namjoon shrugs.

“I’m being serious. I knew I’d want to marry you after university, but things are just moving quicker than we’d like. I love you Jihee, and I’m willing to stick beside you and raise a family. And I’m not just saying this because you’re pregnant. I mean it. I want to marry you. Ideally, I’d have liked it later on. But now is fine too. It’ll be hard, I can’t promise you an easy life. But, I can promise to love you. We can take up jobs and get Yoongi-hyung to babysit while we attend class. We can do this. Just me and you,” Namjoon says and his steely resolve convinces Jihee. She’s slightly unsure. It seems like hard work and if it were up to her, she’d give up the child. But seeing Namjoon so determined, so ready to commit, convinces her that she’s willing to try. She nods at him uneasily.

“Just you and me Namjoon. Us against the world”, Jihee says softly into the dark night and Namjoon agrees, a silent promise on his lips as he kisses her.

“Just you, me and the baby against the world,” Namjoon whispers against her lips, his hands lightly caressing her stomach.

{Flashback: July 2013}

Namjoon sighs as he enters the small flat. It’s quite cramped and there’s barely space for the four of them, but somehow, he makes it work. He and Jihee had planned for one baby, not two and certainly not fraternal twins. So, it came as quite a surprise when Jimin was followed fourteen minutes later by Taehyung. But, despite how much harder it made their lives, juggling not only university, but their dreams, and two children as well, Namjoon wouldn’t trade his sons for the world. He followed the sounds of baby gurgling and giggles, smiling as he watched Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin play with his sons. He continued scanning, sighing when he realised Jihee was nowhere in sight, as usual. Jimin caught sight of his father and immediately squealed in joy, hands reaching out as he grasped the air, motioning Namjoon to pick him up.

Namjoon grinned, deep dimples forming as he took in the sight of his son. Both his sons were on the chubbier side, but Jimin more so, and Namjoon found him unbelievably adorable. Sometimes, he had to refrain from repeatedly pinching and squishing Jimin’s cheeks. It didn’t help when Jimin pouted, plush lips puffing out more than they already did. Namjoon picked his son up, kissing him on the forehead before adjusting Jimin in his hold, allowing him to snuggle in his arms.

Taehyung watched his father and brother, clapping happily from his seat on Seokjin’s lap. Despite being the younger of the two, Taehyung was the more open and the bubblier one while Jimin was a happy but quiet baby. Despite that, the two were as thick as thieves. They were only around half a year old, but they both hated to be separated. They couldn’t even sleep if the two were not somehow touching. It made for adorable photos, Jimin snuggling close to Taehyung as the two slept.

“Typical, as soon as you enter, Jimin no longer wants to hang out with his favourite hyung,” Hoseok pouts and Namjoon rolls his eyes fondly. In reality, he was more than thankful for the three men in his home. He met Hoseok in his music class and Seokjin through Yoongi, as the two were university roommates. The four immediately bonded and he was more grateful than anything that the three helped him take care of his children whenever they could. It meant that Jihee and he could cut down on costs by not needing a baby-sitter unless absolutely necessary.

“Why are you guys still here? I thought Jihee was supposed to be back… three hours ago?” Namjoon asks, looking at his watch. Yoongi glared at Namjoon, in his classic, ‘what do you think happened’ look and Namjoon sighed.

“She had more pressing matters to attend to,” Seokjin spat out. It was no secret that Seokjin hated Jihee. They were both performing arts majors and had met through classes where Seokjin was the teaching assistant. Seokjin had no hard feelings towards her at first, she was driven and always wanted the lead roles but that was a good thing considering the modelling and acting industry was cut-throat at best. However, his hatred towards her developed when he met Namjoon through Yoongi. Seokjin started hating her when realised that Jihee was neglecting her sons and husband, putting all parenting duties onto Namjoon, while she did her best to pursue her dreams. Even if it meant ignoring her family.

“Please don’t start. It was a hard day at work and I still have to finish my assignments. Not to mention I haven’t been able to finish that demo track because of how swamped I am. I don’t want to argue about Jihee on top of this,” Namjoon says and Seokjin immediately deflates, warily taking in the sight of Namjoon. He looked almost defeated, completely downtrodden and tired. Namjoon’s words and haggard form, however, only aided in incensing Yoongi further.

“You can’t keep doing this Namjoon! It’s not fair. You’re supposed to support each other. But here you are, working two jobs to support your family, juggling not one but two degrees and putting your own dreams of making music on the backburner while what? While Jihee just runs around doing what she wants? Chasing her own dreams while you neglect yours? She even quit her fucking job, making you take up another one. She’s never at home to take care of the boys. You’re basically a single dad|” Yoongi grits out and Namjoon winces, holding Jimin closer and bouncing him in his arms.

“Hyung stop now is not the time,” Hoseok says, he can tell Namjoon isn’t in the mood for this conversation. And no matter how much he agrees with Yoongi, Hoseok knows that right now, an argument is the last thing Namjoon needs. Especially with his sons in the room. Yoongi however, ignores Hoseok and continues laying into Namjoon.

“Tell me Namjoon. Why are you still with her? She’s barely at home and when she is, she’s either lounging around or asleep. So why do you still stay with her? Is it out of love? Do you even love her anymore? Or are you just staying out of obligation?” Yoongi asks, his words driving through Namjoon like a knife. Namjoon tenses, pulling Jimin even closer into his body, but still making sure not to hurt him.

If Namjoon was being honest. Yoongi was right. He was staying with Jihee out of obligation. He no longer loved Jihee, nor did he feel anything for her. The love had died sometime after she had given birth. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that Jihee never grew up and took responsibility, placing it all on Namjoon. Perhaps it stemmed from the distance between them. Perhaps it stemmed from his resentment with her for practically leaving the boys motherless. But whatever the reason was, Namjoon knew he no longer loved her. At least, not the way he used to.

“You need to think about this Namjoon. Maybe it’s worth leaving her. For your own sake and for the sake of your sons” Yoongi finally says, ending his tirade and the four are plunged into a heavy silence. Yoongi’s words echoing in the back of Namjoon’s mind.

{January 2014}

Namjoon enters his flat with a sigh, rubbing his eyes wearily. He throws his bags onto the floor by the door before walking through the dimly lit corridor. He’s surprised by the fact that the living room light is on. It was half-past midnight and his sons should be asleep considering it’s well past their bedtime, especially for one-year-olds. He assumes it’s most likely Yoongi still up after a night of watching the boys but he’s surprised when he enters the living room, only to spot Jihee sitting, staring at the doorway.

“What are you still doing up Jihee?” Namjoon asks, quirking an eyebrow. Usually, by now, Jihee was already in bed if she was home. If not, she was out partying under the guise of ‘creating contacts’. Namjoon had grown wiser to her excuses over the year, however.

“We need to talk. Something has come up” Jihee says, eyeing him warily, her lip pulled between her teeth. Namjoon cocks his eyebrows once again before nodding, taking a seat opposite her.

“Do you remember Jimin and Taehyung’s first birthday?” Jihee asks and Namjoon nods. It was one of the only days Jihee had been home the entire day. Even if it was at Namjoon’s behest. Namjoon could accept her wanting to follow her dreams, he could even accept all the responsibility for his sons. But he needed her to be there on their birthday, it was the only thing he asked for from her since the boys were born. He needed the boys to at least believe and see they had a mother, even if it was only in pictures.

“What about it?” Namjoon asks, wondering where she’s going with this.

“We slept together that night,” Jihee states as a matter of fact and Namjoon nods. It was probably a mistake, but it had been a good month since the two of them had slept together. In fact, sleeping with Jihee was probably the most contact Namjoon had with her since the boys were born. The two never dated, never went out together and didn’t even hang out anymore. Namjoon had no idea who her friends were, or what was happening in her life. The only time they were together was when they needed to relieve stress and tension and during that, they were too busy fucking to speak about their days.

“Yeah, okay. What about it?” Namjoon asks, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“I’m pregnant again,” Jihee says blankly, staring him dead in the eyes and Namjoon stiffens before exploding.

“HOW?! We’ve always been so careful! Is it even mine?” Namjoon shouts, eyes narrowing and Jihee looks affronted by his accusation. Namjoon immediately regrets his decision to yell when twin cries are heard from Jimin and Taehyung’s bedroom. He sends her a quick glare before stalking into their room. As soon as he sees them, his eyes soften and he coos at them, picking them up and bouncing them in his arms to quieten them down.

“How dare you even ask me that?” Jihee spits back, her teeth gritting while Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“Please be quiet, can’t you see I’m trying to put them back to sleep? And oh, don’t give me that look. I know you’re sleeping around. Jin-hyung told me. And quite frankly, I don’t care. I just want to know if the baby is mine or not,” Namjoon snaps back and Jihee reels back, Namjoon getting a sick sense of satisfaction from her look of guilt.

“Right, well. It’s definitely yours. I’ve been using protection with everyone else and I make sure they pull out before they cum, even if they’re wearing a condom. You’re still the only one I sleep with unprotected,” Jihee replies and Namjoon lets out a sigh. He finally calms down the boys and puts them back in their cots, watching them with gentle eyes. He reaches down and runs his finger along Taehyung’s face, bopping his nose and watching with a smile as Taehyung snuggles into his hand before drawing closer to Jimin. Namjoon closes his eyes, rubbing his face in weary frustration before turning to Jihee. He motions her to follow him out of their room, before turning around and closing the door, leaving it slightly ajar in case the boys begin crying at night.

“So, what do you want to do?” Namjoon asks, turning back and staring down at her.

“I was thinking of having an-“ Jihee begins nervously and Namjoon’s ire rises.

“Don’t- don‘t say it,” Namjoon cuts her off and Jihee narrows her eyes.

“It’s my body Namjoon. You’re not the one who has to go through the pregnancy. I am,” Jihee seethes back and Namjoon’s shoulders deflate.

“Fuck. You’re right. You’re right.I- It may be hard, but I don’t want you to go through with it. It’s my child too and I don’t want you to just… get rid of it. But whatever you decide, I’ll stick by it. Whether I like it or not,” Namjoon responds finally and Jihee nods.

Namjoon watches Jihee contemplate her next decisions with bated breath. Nervousness fills him. He knows that getting rid of the child is the easier way out. Not that it would be easy, but with the twins already and with how hard he has to work to support them, he knows there’s no way it’s possible for him to bring in another child into this world. But the thought of even getting rid of the child makes his stomach turn. He imagines what would have happened to Jimin and Taehyung if they had decided to have an abortion back then, and his heart breaks even more. He can’t imagine a world without his sons and he knows that if they go through with this now, years down the line, he’ll wonder what his life would be with the child they lost.

“Okay. Fine. We’ll keep the baby. Against my better judgement. I don’t know how this will play out Namjoon, and I hope you know the sacrifice I’m making to my career for this. To make you happy. Because despite everything, part of me still loves you and wants you to be happy. And if that means keeping this baby, so be it,” Jihee finally responds, and Namjoon sighs in relief. He steps forward and hugs Jihee, Jihee stiffening at the affectionate touch.

“Thank you” Namjoon whispers into the night and Jihee nods, her fists clenched by her sides and wondering if she’s made a mistake.

{January 2015}

Namjoon and Hoseok smile brightly at each other, dressed in their graduation robes and hat. Seokjin and Yoongi stand beside them. Both had already graduated but were back to see Hoseok and Namjoon graduate. Yoongi was holding a small 5-month old Jungkook in his arms, the baby sleeping, soft snores escaping him every now and then. Seokjin was holding Jimin and Taehyung’s hands, both standing up on either side of him as they squirmed, trying to get closer to their father. Seokjin however, had a tight grip on them, lest they ruin Namjoon’s rented graduation clothes.

“I can’t believe we made it,” Namjoon says, staring at his reflection in shock. His hair was styled so it was out of his eyes, dressed smartly in a suit. Now at 21, he looked almost unrecognisable from the 18-year-old who had just become a father and was struggling between university and children.

“I can’t believe you graduated with not one but two degrees at the top of your class all while being a father. I barely graduated myself,” Hoseok responds and the four of them laugh.

“Did you forget you’ve also graduated in two degrees? Music and Dance? Not to mention you’re the top of the class in Dance,” Namjoon replies and Hoseok laughs loudly, his laugh setting off Jimin and Taehyung.

“Have you seen Jihee?” Hoseok asks after a while and Namjoon sighs.

“No. Not since exams at least. She’s graduating at the top of her class too though, so she’ll be bound to be here at graduation somewhere,” Namjoon replies with a shrug.

“Is she not going to see the boys at all? You’d think she’d want her husband and children with her,” Yoongi spits and Namjoon wants to respond, but he can’t find it in him to defend Jihee. In the two years of Jimin and Taehyung’s life, Namjoon can count the times she was a real mother on his two hands. However, with Jungkook, Jihee was completely different. She practically ignored his existence and didn’t interact with him at all. That was the line for Namjoon’s tolerance of her. He couldn’t accept her cold ignorance of their youngest son. Since Jungkook was born, Namjoon decided to leave her on her own. He didn’t even ask her to spend the twins’ birthday with them. Instead, the day was spent with Seokjin, Hoseok, Yoongi and his sons at a park enjoying themselves.

“Come on, let’s go. We all need to find our seats, graduation begins in half an hour,” Seokjin says, ushering the lot of them out. The ceremony flies in a blur, Namjoon too focused on how his sons are faring with Yoongi and Seokjin to care. He watches as Hoseok is called up, clapping loudly as his best friend takes his diploma. Some more time passes and then it’s his name.

He stands up proudly, and walks to the Principal, collecting his diploma. He spots his own parents, staring at him in pride. He spots his sons, Taehyung sitting on Seokjin’s shoulders, while he holds Jimin up in his arms, all three of them waving happily. Yoongi even lifts a now awake Jungkook up, making the little boy wave. Namjoon’s smile deepens and he has to blink away the tears. It had been a hard few years and he was more tired than anything. But he did it. He made it through everything. For his sons.

Briefly, Namjoon catches the eyes of Jihee’s parents, her mother glaring harshly at him while her father smirks smugly. However, Namjoon is filled with too much happiness and pride to care. He walks off the podium and back to his seat, mindlessly listening as more names are called. He hears Jihee’s name being called out and looks over to her. The two catch eyes and his brows furrow at the slightly guilty look in her eyes when she spots him. He briefly wonders what it means but decides to ignore it instead. Finally, a couple of hours later, graduation is over. Namjoon looks around for Hoseok, however, his search is halted when Jihee walks over to him nervously. He looks at her in confusion and opens his mouth to congratulate her, however, he’s cut off by her words.

“Namjoon. Can we go somewhere to speak? Privately?” Jihee asks and Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow but he nods his assent, following Jihee. Momentarily, he catches Hoseok’s eyes and gestures for him to head back to Yoongi and Seokjin. Jihee pulls him to the side, away from the bustle of graduation and Namjoon watches as she rummages through her bags until she pulls out some papers.

“Let’s get an annulment Namjoon,” Jihee finally says and Namjoon stands in shock, blinking owlishly at her words.

“What?!” Namjoon sputters and Jihee sighs.

“Please. You and I both know this isn’t working out. I’ve had this planned for a while. Since I was pregnant with Jungkook actually. The only reason I went through that pregnancy was that I knew it would make you happy and because I knew that when I asked for this, I’d have more leverage for you to say yes,” Jihee begins and Namjoon’s anger begins to rise.

“Leverage? Did you agree to have Jungkook as leverage? Fucking hell, he’s our son, not a bargaining token. I would have signed these fucking papers with or without him. What the fuck is wrong with you Jihee?” Namjoon spits out, tone laced with disgust and Jihee reels from his anger.

“Namjoon calm down. A family was never what I wanted. You know that. I’ve been scouted by a company, and my parents and I think it’s best if I separate from you and your sons. If you sign these papers, our marriage will be annulled, as if it never happened and I’m even giving you full custody. They aren’t my sons anymore. But let’s be real they never were. Besides, you’ve practically given up on your dream and I can’t see you going anywhere anytime soon and that could negatively impact my future. Both my parents and my agent think I need to do what’s best for my career and I agree. So please just sign the papers,” Jihee says and Namjoon’s fists clench tightly.

“I’ve given up on my dream? Are you fucking insane? Or maybe you’re so far up your own ass you didn’t even realise you put all the responsibility of raising my sons onto me. I didn’t have time for a fucking dream between juggling my two degrees, two jobs and my two, - now three - sons while all you did was fuck about and follow your own dreams selfishly. What happened to the sweet Jihee I fell in love with? The one who believed in my dreams as well as her own? The one who’d stick by me through thick and thin. I don’t fucking know you anymore,” Namjoon seethes and Jihee shrugs.

“She grew up. My industry is relentless and selfish. I need to do what’s right for me. I’m sorry Namjoon. Will you sign the papers?” Jihee asks and Namjoon grits his teeth, snatching them away from her.

“Give me a couple of days to read through this. I’m not going to have you cheat me into signing anything I haven’t read. But if everything is fine, I’ll sign the damn papers and we can both get out of each other’s lives. For good,” Namjoon finally snarls before turning and leaving.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry,” Jihee calls out and Namjoon stops in his tracks, stiffening slightly. There’s regret in her voice - mixed with a smidgeon of guilt - and he can hear them both clearly. But he doesn’t care.

“Go fuck yourself Jihee,” Namjoon snorts before continuing to walk away from her.

{End of Flashbacks: Present Day}

“I don’t know if you know, but Seokjin is a chaebol and he let Namjoon use his lawyers to go through the contract for free. Everything was fine, an annulment and Namjoon getting full custody of the boys, with Jihee even signing off her rights as a mother. A couple of months after that, Jin created JinHit entertainment and hired me, Namjoon and Hoseok as his first artists. And well, you know the story from there. Throughout it all, Namjoon tried his hardest to succeed for his sons and eventually, they made it. But, considering the past and everything that happened with Jihee, you can see why he’s so angered by mentions of her,” Yoongi finishes his story, but there’s not much you can do. You’re shocked still, unable to respond. Part of you feels bad for everything Namjoon had to go through, another part of you feels complete admiration for how well he’s done for himself. The last part of you has lost all the respect you had for Oh Jihee.

“Is part of that why Namjoon kept the boys hidden from the public?” you ask cautiously and Yoongi nods.

“Partly yeah. Jihee and Namjoon are both high profile celebrities and with the past, it made the most sense to keep them out of the public eye. Not to mention, he wanted to keep them away from the press and stalkers who could harm them,” Yoongi explains and you nod in response.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I can understand why he was so angry I mentioned her,” you reply, your tone laced with understanding but Yoongi shrugs in response.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t overreact,” Yoongi replies and you open your mouth to defend Namjoon only to be interrupted.

“He’s right. I did overreact and I apologise for that. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. It wasn’t your fault and you had no idea about Jihee,” Namjoon says as he enters the kitchen, bowing deeply in apology. You immediately wave him off.

“No, no! It’s okay really! I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sure it must have been hard for you and the boys,” you reply and this time Namjoon waves you off. Yoongi nods to Namjoon before getting up and leaving the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

“Not really. Jihee was never around even when we were together. The boys have never known what a mother is. I’m their only parental figure along with Seokjin-hyung, Yoongi-hyung and Hoseok. But I don’t think they’ve had a bad childhood you know? It may have been hard, but I did whatever I could to give them a good life. I tried to take them on tour whenever I could, so I could show them different places and teach them about different cultures. Everyone will tell you I spoil them but can you blame me? I know they’re missing a mother and I don’t want them to feel like it’s their fault they don’t have one. So, I do whatever I can for them. Even if it means spoiling them to distract them from what they are missing,” Namjoon says sagely and you smile timidly at him.

“I don’t think they’re spoiled. I think they’re wonderful children and you’ve raised them well. And even if they are missing a mother, I don’t think they’re missing out on much because it seems like you’ve been the best parent figure you could be. It may not mean much coming from me because I don’t know you well enough, but from what I’ve seen, you’re a wonderful dad Namjoon and they’re great kids. Really great kids. You did well,” you say earnestly and Namjoon smiles softly at you.

“It does. Mean something that is. Thank you,” Namjoon responds sincerely. The two of you sit in the quiet of the kitchen, the silence heavy with emotion but not uncomfortable. It doesn’t last long however, cause suddenly the twins are running into the kitchen, their eyes lighting up when they spot you.

“____-noona! You came! Daddy, why didn’t you tell us?” Taehyung asks, stomping his foot slightly and both you and Namjoon laugh at his gesture.

“Sorry tiger, but you were so busy playing with Jaewoo and Sungwoo, I didn’t want to disturb you,” Namjoon says and this time Jimin pouts.

“You’re being selfish daddy, you can’t have ____-noona to yourself! We want to play too,” Jimin pouts, latching onto your leg and the both of you blush when you hear Sooyun, Seokjin and Hoseok snickering from the doorway.

“Yeah, you’re being selfish daddy,” Hoseok teases, copying Jimin’s words and emphasising the word ‘daddy’; making Seokjin and Sooyun laugh even louder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. I think it’s time for cake, don’t you? I got Jiminie’s favourite,” Namjoon says as he walks to the fridge, pulling out a large frosted cake. Jimin squeals, running up to his father and jumping up and down to try and get to the cake. Namjoon only laughs, before gently calming Jimin down.

“Calm down pup or daddy will spill the cake and you won’t get any,” Namjoon says gently and immediately Jimin stills, eyes wide in fear at the thought of not getting any cake. Namjoon carefully takes the cake out into the living room, everyone except Seokjin following him. You begin walking behind the entourage only for Seokjin to stop you with a mischievous smile.

“So, you don’t happen to have a daddy kink by any chance?” Seokjin teasingly asks with a wink and you immediately stiffen, face flush with heat from your embarrassment. Seokjin takes in your appearance before running away, his squeaky windshield wiper laugh following him and leaving you all alone in the kitchen.

You immediately smack your cheeks and shake your head, trying to get his words out of your mind. now that you think about it, maybe you do mind being in Namjoon’s life.

Especially if it means you’re the constant victim of Hoseok and Seokjin’s teasing.

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this chapter, why not check out my other stories? ^.^

▷ Masterlist | Chapter 3

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queenmorgawse · 5 years ago

Text

here we go again

CHAPTER ONE. modern au wangxian ft. family feels, inspired by mamma mia. read on ao3 for end notes.

Wei Yuan's day begins, unusually, with the loud whirring of a landing helicopter.

“Don’t just leave your plate here!” Wen Qing chides, but by the time she pokes her head outside, the boy is already halfway up the hill, shouting back apologies as he crams the last of his toast into his mouth. He stops just short of the landing zone, watching in delight as the helicopter’s rotor blades slow then stop, and three silhouettes emerge from the small dust cloud their arrival created. “Good morning, uncle, auntie! Hi, didi!” he calls, waving his arms in an attempt to clear his sight.

Jin Zixuan, Wei Yuan’s gufu , lifts his sunglasses from his nose and tucks them on his collar before shaking the boy’s hand. “Hello, A-Yuan.”

“Yuanyuan, you’re growing so fast, I can’t catch up anymore!” This is from Wei Yuan’s guma , Jiang Yanli, who’s already thrown her arms around him. He buries his face in her blouse, breathing in the breezy scent of lotuses. She strokes his hair, cooing. “Seriously, you’re getting so tall. You’ll shoot past your dad any minute now!”

“Not that much, auntie,” he protests weakly when she lets him go.

“Pscht. He told me the same thing when he was little, and look how he is now. Ling-er! Come say hi, don’t be rude.”

Jin Ling, Wei Yuan’s favorite (and only) cousin, is still lingering behind his parents, airpods jammed into his ears. He looks up at the sound of his mother’s voice, though, cracks one of his rare smiles, and accepts Wei Yuan’s hug ⎯ which means he stands still enough for Wei Yuan to embrace him, though he jerks away with a muffled protest at the attempt to pat his head.

“Your luggage is already here,” Wei Yuan says, turning back toward his uncle and aunt. “I’ll help carry it to your rooms.” ( Who else could it be? No one brings that many brand name suitcases for a month’s stay, and if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be stacked in the Wei family’s own living room. )

“Thank you, darling, we’ll take care of that,” Jiang Yanli reassures him. “Do you know where your father went? I thought he’d be with you.”

“He’s kind of all over the place these days, with the anniversary coming up.” All over the place is an euphemism ; the list of things to plan seems endless, and as usual, Wei Yuan’s father doesn’t trust anyone but Wen Qing and himself to get things done.

“He’ll get here soon, though! I’m sure he heard you coming!” the boy quickly adds when a worried look crosses his aunt’s face. The entire island probably heard the landing, but then again, given its size, it’s not much of a statement.

Jiang Yanli gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay, Yuanyuan, we know how it is, we’ll take it from here. We know our way around, don’t we, Zixuan?”

“Of course, of course,” his uncle says, then jerks his chin at Jin Ling. “A-Ling, why don’t you go and catch up with A-Yuan? Weren’t you excited to be here?”

“Don’t tease him, love,” Jiang Yanli chides, her eyes too full of amusement to truly come off as stern. “But yes, you boys go take a walk, stretch your legs a little after the flight. Don’t take too long, though! Come back to say hi to da-jiu, okay?”

“Yes, mama,” Jin Ling mutters at the same time Wei Yuan says “Of course, auntie.” With one last glance to check the adults actually did mean it, they leave Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli to give the last of their instructions to their pilot and run back down the hill, leaving only footprints behind.

---

Wei Yuan has to admire his cousin’s poker face, because Jin Ling morphs into an enthusiastic puppy the moment they’re out of earshot. “So! What’s the super duper mysterious thing you couldn’t even text me about?”

“It’s not that I couldn’t, I wanted to tell you in person!” Wei Yuan protests. They settle in his favorite conversation spot, an old, gnarled tree so sturdy it barely moves at all when the two boys climb into it and find comfortable seats where the thickest of its branches meet.

This is when the first tendrils of what feels suspiciously like stage fright begin to curl in his stomach. Don’t be stupid, Wei Yuan chides himself. It’s too late to take it back anyway! With new resolution, he forces himself to grit out : “I think I know who my other father is.”

Jin Ling gasps, clapping both his hands over his mouth. Wei Yuan can’t tell if he’s genuinely surprised or just being dramatic. “For real?”

“I said I think !”

“Well, you can’t just say that and not follow up! Spit it out!”

“You’ve got to promise you’re not gonna snitch on me. Like, I’ll be grounded for life if you do,” Wei Yuan insists.

“Pinky promise.” They both have to lean a dangerous way out of their seats to lace their fingers together, but Wei Yuan does feel a little more reassured when Jin Ling lets go.

“Okay, so,” he starts again, clearing his throat. “We were spring cleaning last year, so I was in charge of doing the attic because Dad said the rest was too messy and he’d do it himself, and I found this box with old sketches in it. I’m not gonna show you, though, it’s pretty private.”

“But you went through them,” Jin Ling points out. “That’s not very private.”

Wei Yuan flushes. “I didn’t know what they were at first! You know how dad is, he doodles all the time and leaves it all over the house.” He spares a thought for eleven-year-old Wei Yuan, who sincerely thought this was just another batch of his father’s mindless drawings. “Okay, get this, I was just sorting through the boxes because auntie A-Qing wanted to clear the space, so I had to throw things out⎯”

---

Wei Yuan blows a layer of dust off an ancient-looking wooden box and immediately chokes, waving his free hand in front of his face in an effort to clear the air. He gives it an experimental rattle, then, when the contents barely make a sound, spends a solid five minutes digging his nails into the hair-thin line that runs across it before he successfully pries it open.

He only barely keeps the dozens of stacked-up sheets from spilling onto the floor. As things are, most of them fall into his lap. Picking one up at random, Wei Yuan immediately recognizes the style. There, in pencil and charcoal, are the same bold strokes his father puts to paper every other day. He would know better than most ; the protagonists of his childhood stories still decorate the walls of his bedroom, lovingly preserved in hand-painted frames.

But while Wei Yuan's collection is a motley group of characters as different from one another as father and son could make them, all these drawings represent the same person : a young man with long black hair and a face as regal as an ancient god's. As Wei Yuan flips through the sheets, he finds the man looking back at him, bent over a book with glasses perched on his nose, tying his hair back with a cloud-patterned ribbon — even one in which he stares straight at the artist, his smile soft and lovely. Wei Yuan looks at that one for a long time before mustering the will to put it away.

Just behind it, he finds the letter.

He can instantly tell if wasn’t written by his father. There’s no trace of Wei Ying’s messy scrawl here, only script so neat it could have been typewritten. He quickly skims through it and⎯

“I can’t read that,” Wei Yuan moans, quickly shoving it in between the sketches again.

He almost wishes it was something saucy. Instead, it feels like peering into the depths of someone’s heart, so intimate he feels like slamming a non-existent door shut and leaving the words to their business.

( He can still see them in his mind. The sun rises in my chest every time I see you. I never want to look away. )

There’s a signature. There, in elegant cursive, is the name Lan Zhan.

“A-Yuan, lunch’s ready!” his father calls from downstairs. Wei Yuan trips to hide the box behind his back before the man in question pokes his head through the hatch, hair full of rogue dust bunnies and sporting a lopsided grin. “C’mon, I made sandwiches.”

When the boy eyes him warily, Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “There’s no pepper in them, I promise. Come down before your auntie gets impatient, though.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, I just want to finish this pile!” Wei Yuan croaks.

“One minute.” Despite the ultimatum, his father winks at him and disappears again. Wei Yuan waits for the sound of his footsteps to fade to let out a sigh of relief.

The box’s content seem to stare back at him. Feeling only slightly guilty, he takes the letter out again and carefully folds it, stuffing it into his pocket before scrambling down the ladder.

---

It’s an entire afternoon of chores before Wei Yuan can excuse himself from the dinner table and climbs the stairs to uncle Wen Ning’s desk two steps at the time, making sure to shut the door behind him before he turns the computer on.

Lan Zhan , he types. The half-second the search results take to load seems to last eternally. His hand almost slips clicking on the top link, a Wikipedia article.

Lan Zhan, courtesy name Lan Wangji, born January 23 1984 in Gusu, China, is a celebrated singer and songwriter. His most successful single, Inquiry , was sold at more than…

Wei Yuan's eyes derail from the text, distracted by the article's picture. There, pale golden eyes glancing away from the camera, is the man from the sketches — older, perhaps, but more than recognizable in his otherworldly beauty.

His heart rate picks up, drumming in his chest. It's him. It's really him. Dad knew this guy. Dad liked him so much he drew him over and over again.

Just like that, Wei Yuan's enthusiasm deflates like a popped balloon.

His father has never shied away from the extravagant tales of his when-I-was-younger shenanigans, as embarrassing as they can get. If he knew someone so famous - no, if he was in love with him, Wei Yuan corrects himself, remembering the letter's gentle words -, wouldn't he have at least mentioned it?

This is how Wei Yuan’s life has always been : to the million-dollar question ( who’s my other dad? ), he’s always received the same answer, be it from his uncles or his aunts.

I don’t know, A-Yuan. Maybe you should ask your father instead.

That, of course, is an inevitable dead end. Wei Ying will ruffle his hair, maybe drop a casual can’t remember, baby, and change the subject. At this point, Wei Yuan has pretty much resigned himself never to get a straight answer from his father.

The screen in front of him seems like an ancient tome holding all the answers he’s looking for, if only he’ll bother to decipher them.

His eyes drift to a cloud-shaped logo, curling around an elegant character he recognizes as the Lan of Lan Wangji’s name. Cloud Recesses Entertainment, Wei Yuan reads. After a long moment spent staring at the computer, he grabs the nearest notepad, tears a page out of it and starts to scroll down the page.

---

“So, let me get this straight,” Jin Ling says slowly. “You found the guy you think is your dad, looked up his family's company, read their entire website, made a new email to write to them like you were an actual advertiser for the hotel and now they're having their company holidays here ?”

When put like that, it certainly sounds more convoluted (and borderline crazy) than Wei Yuan intended it to be. “...Yes?”

“And you couldn’t just invite him personally? Like a normal person?”

“ No! First, I probably wouldn’t even get past his fan mail. Second, what was I supposed to tell him? ‘Hi, I know you and my dad were in love before I was born because I looked through his stuff, and I’d like to know if you’re maybe my father too’? I’d die before I managed to send that!” He pauses to catch his breath. “Maybe he doesn’t even remember dad! Would you remember someone you met thirteen years ago and then never again?”

“I-I don’t know! Maybe?” Jin Ling splutters. “Anyway, da-jiu is gonna kill you when he finds out. Well, not kill you ‘cause he loves you too much, but you did think about that, right?”

“No! I mean...maybe I'm wrong, and it's just a coincidence. But I think I'll know when I talk to him. If he's not my dad, there's no need to tell him, it'd just be embarrassing.”

“So all of this is relying on a couple drawings and a gut feeling? That's what you're gonna use to explain?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

Jin Ling throws his hands up. “Really? You masterminded this whole thing and this is where you’re stumped?”

“I tried, okay?” Wei Yuan protests weakly. “Besides, dad’s gonna be so busy with your mom and shushu coming over. Maybe he won’t notice for a while, I can work something out in the meantime…”

“When’s that guy supposed to get here?”

Wei Yuan squints, trying to conjure up the schedule he scribbled in-between some chemistry notes. “Tomorrow, I’m pretty sure. I don’t have to worry about it right now, I guess.”

“More time to plan for your funeral, then.”

“Hilarious, I’m dying of laughter over here,” Wei Yuan deadpans back. “For real, you can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even your mom and dad,” he adds when Jin Ling opens his mouth again.

“Fine!” Though his cousin is wearing his usual pout again, he can tell the message went through alright. “Can we get ice cream now? It’s so hot on your stupid island.”

Wei Yuan stifles a smile, beckoning the other to get up. “Sure. Dad tried his hand at some mulberry thing, it’s pretty good, actually…”

---

“Jiang Cheng! Hey, Jiang Cheng!”

Some of the locals hide an indulgent smile behind their hands as a silhouette in jean overalls runs down the pier, skillfully avoiding crashing into tourists.

At the other end of the wooden boards, Jiang Cheng runs a hand down his face. The person behind him shakes silently, as if trying to repress a giggle and failing.

Wei Ying stops in front of the couple, beaming, before holding out his arms. Despite his apparent exasperation, Jiang Cheng steps into the hug all the same, though his expression turns long-suffering when his brother gives his back a vigorous rub.

As Wei Ying pulls away, his eyes drift to the other figure and immediately crinkle at the corners. “Huaisang! So you’re the mysterious plus one! What was it like riding the ferry like the rest of us?”

“Exotic,” Nie Huaisang sighs, which sends both of them into a fit of hysterics.

A few feet away, someone whispers, “Wait, Huaisang as in Nie Huaisang ? From the Untamed?”

“Yeah, but no pics, please!” Wei Ying chirps at the tittering tourists. “Leave my guy some privacy, he’s on holidays!”

“He’s not that worried about privacy,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I had to stop him from posting about us on every available account he has for three months.”

Wei Ying gapes. “Three months? You’ve been together for three months and you didn’t tell me about it? Jiang Cheng,” he sighs, pressing a hand to his heart as if covering a mortal wound, “I thought you were my brother.”

“He was hiding it from you in particular,” Nie Huaisang oh-so-helpfully points out, then snaps his fan open. “Said you couldn’t be trusted to keep it on the down low.” Wei Ying has the distinct impression he’s concealing a shit-eating grin.

“I’ve been mortally wounded,” Wei Ying moans, and dramatically collapses into Jiang Cheng’s arms, who pushes him back upright while swearing under his breath.

The episode might have turned into a small brawl right there on the pier, if not for Nie Huaisang’s T-shirt.

“Oh my God, you still have it!” Wei Ying all but squeals, grabbing the other man by the shoulders and pulling away his fan to inspect his outfit. “It's the original logo, right?”

Nie Huaisang proudly tugs on the lapels of his sheer jacket to show off the shirt beneath. “The one I drew in professor Hua's class? Yup.”

Wei Ying heaves a sigh, running his fingers over each ray of the sun-shaped logo. Suddenly, he’s back in college, and Nie Huaisang just texted him a rough sketch of their band’s design, oblivious to his art professor’s shadow over his shoulder. “Holy shit, I miss Sunshot. Remember that stunt we pulled at graduation?”

“My brother was on my ass about it for a whole year after that,” Nie Huaisang shrugs, then snaps his fingers. “It was so worth it, though.”

“Right? Jiang Cheng, aren’t you mad you didn’t do it with us?”

The interested party crosses his arms, glare barely suppressing the smile tugging at his mouth. “Making a show of yourselves like that? No.”

“Your loss, didi.”

Nie Huaisang snickers. “Don’t listen to him, he brought the shirt too.”

“I’ve had enough of you two,” Jiang Cheng gripes. “Is A-Jie here already? I miss having someone sensible around.”

“She and the peacock arrived this morning.” Wei Wuxian stretches languidly, shooting his brother a wide grin. “I’d come and hang out, but I’ve got some murals to redo before the next group gets here and they’re not gonna paint themselves.”

Jiang Cheng mutters something that sounds a suspicious lot like good riddance , but doesn’t pull away when Wei Ying loops an arm around his shoulders. “I missed you, though! Facetime’s not the same, you know?”

His brother seems to brace himself, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Mom and Dad want you over for Christmas. You and A-Yuan. We can see each other then.”

Slowly, Wei Ying untangles himself from their half-embrace. “They do?” The unspoken question hangs between them : even Mom ?

“Yeah. They’ll probably call you themselves, but I thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Wei Ying’s heart feels warmer than before. In a characteristic display of older sibling assholishness, he ignores the soft, marshmallow-y fondness and reaches for Jiang Cheng to ruffle his hair. “Aww! Thanks, A-Cheng, that’s so sweet of you.”

“How do I ever put up with you?”

Nie Huaisang’s voice snaps them both back into reality. The actor waves his fan at them, smile playing at his lips. “Very tender, heartwarming, yadda yadda. Can we do this somewhere with AC, though? I’m sweating bullets here.”

“Alright, alright, can’t make the superstar wait! Gimme that.” Wei Ying barely waits for assent before grabbing Nie Huaisang’s suitcases, wincing at their weight before pulling them up the slope and toward his car.

“What about me?” Jiang Cheng asks as he readjusts his grip on his own luggage and follows suit.

Wei Ying barely turns back. “What about you? You know the way, didi, carry it yourself.”

“You -”

Jiang Cheng’s outraged protests and his companions’ laughter seems to linger long after the jeep has left nothing but dust in its wake.

Three months ago

The telephone rings, shrill and ears-piercing. Wen Ning picks it up almost as second nature, mechanically bringing it to his ear as he flips through their latest batch of flyers. “Lotus Pier Resort, what can I do for you?”

A few awkward seconds of silence pass. He pats around his desk for a pen, drops it to the floor, and attempts to maintain a more-or-less steady voice as he crawls around on the carpet to find it again. “Ah, yes. Your flight got delayed? By how long?”

The scritch of his newly-retrieved pen on the nearest post-it. “If we can change your reservation? Um...it’s half a day, I’ll see what I can do. If necessary, will you mind different arrangements for the time being? I’ll talk to other hotels in the area, but I don’t think it’ll come to that...”

A pause.

“Okay, to confirm, this is Luo Qingyang, calling for Cloud Recesses Entertainment…?”

Present days

Wei Ying wipes his forehead, further smearing green acrylic across his face. He’s been at it all day since dropping off Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang in their room, but at least the mural is nearly done. The couple’s features are nothing special, but he likes to think he did a good job at depicting their emotions. One of the silhouettes smiles wide and contagious at the other, half-turning back with their hand held out.

It took him the better part of the afternoon just to paint the field of flowers they’re standing in, though. Even after more than a decade on this island, the heat’s still making him melt on the daily. Just a few more details , he tells himself, then I can go get myself a fresh drink.

The chatter of new guests making their way up to the lobby makes his head turn. Oh right, the group’s arriving today. They really do look like rich tourists, in their all-white outfits and⎯

Wait.

Wei Ying swallows thickly. This stirs up memories of another figure in white, which doesn’t hurt any less, even after thirteen-odd years.

It’s just a coincidence. Normal company-organized holidays, Wen Qing said. Nothing to worry about.

He looks again, and meets the gaze of the man at the forefront of the group. The other’s eyes (molten gold, bright as sunlight and most of all familiar ) widen ever so slightly, and Wei Ying almost falls off the ladder.

He catches himself just in time, sweaty and paint-slicked palms slipping on the rails, and resists the urge to let go again just to hide his face in his hands.

This is the worst. God, why him of all people?

Why, of all guests getting on and off the island all summer - as they have for years -, did it have to be Lan Zhan ?

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs fic #kim's fics #mm!au

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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antifamutantdown replied to your post:

Thanks to a friend I got my grubby little hands on...

Kalen… You must review the rest I can’t do this anymore

So far the only other ones I’ve read are X-Men #1 and Marauders #1, and I have very little thoughts on them!

My X-Men #1 thoughts can be summed up as cool space house, Krakoan dish soap is neat idea but also gross, we don’t need to see that, why is Havok there, why is Havok anywhere, die Havok die, yay Gabe! Its so weird that I like megalomaniacal actually canon despot and father killer Gabriel Summers better than Alex but like, in his defense Corsair is a shitty father, the Shi’ar Empire is a shitty empire, and like, spending a decade entombed on an asteroid while Xavier mindwipes everyone into forgetting you ever even existed would make anyone cranky, also like, could be worse, at least he’s not Alex. But also, why is he talking like that, its so weird and unnecessary, and also also, I do need SOME context for why he’s suddenly bbq-ing on the moon with his brothers and dad like he never once flambeed said dad like he’s currently searing those steaks, like....did he just Get Over Everything or did Xavier give him a homicidal-otomy before sticking his consciousness back in a shiny new body? I need answers!

But also lolol at him trolling Logan, even if it was in that weird ‘yo, Shakespeare’s dead, we don’t have to talk like this anymore’ kinda way. But also, Teen Cable calling Scott Dad and Jean Mom and asking them if he can trade guns with Raza and finally getting a chance to be parented the way Cable’s always deserved IS MY EVERYTHING, WHY AM I SO WEAK, and him and Rachel getting to be actual siblings and them all FINALLY having a chance to be an actual, somewhat normal FAMILY, like, this is the literal first time in any of their histories that they’ve all been together and just...enjoying a meal together, its....ugh. This is the good food. THIS is the food I’ve been waiting for. But now plz hurry up and tell me if they’re all being mind controlled by Evil Chucky, this is highly critical information and I need it and want it, please can I have it.

Meanwhile, my Marauders #1 thoughts can be summed up as:

Kitty being all yo-ho-yo-ho a pirate’s life for me in a sailboat is random as fuck, I don’t care about the story’s explanation, it just is. Also a million snores to the OH NOES, AM I EVEN A MUTANT AT ALL plot that I had hoped died with the Neo and all the other nonsense Claremont plot bunnies that never needed to be brought to fruition. I am TIRED. I do not CARE. Points to Bobby for making the Only Valid Top Joke, nobody needs to make any others ever, but minus those same points for the random switch of the Pyro that is gay and has slept with Bobby and has Sexual Tension with him for the Pyro that was basically just dead for twenty years, juuuuuuust in time for Bobby and the Not Gay Pyro to be teammates in the same book whereas the ‘Bobby just hit that fairly recently and you’d think this merited followup’ Pyro is once more, nowhere to be found. I am SUSPICIOUS.

But also, death times infinity to the equally inexplicable plot point of Why Is Kitty In Charge When Ororo, Whomst Canonically Is Like The Literal Best Leader The X-Men Have Ever Had and Also Has Actual Queen and Goddess On Her Resume....is like....literally standing right there. We get it. Kitty is amazing, she is the most amazingest maybe!mutant who ever did live, even if she’s not even a mutant or whatever. Like, I actually like Kitty, but part of that like is me maintaining that she would be equally Valid as a character even if she’s NOT the Most Important Maybe!Mutant in all the land, even when she is not on land, but is being a pirate on a sailboat. I just do not get this constant obsessive need to push her as the ultimate successor of Xavier’s dream, like, the figurehead of the next generation of X-Men....when the older generations of X-Men ARE STILL RIGHT HERE.

Its okay to just have her be a super genius spy computer hacker and also canon ninja ghost girl! She doesn’t also have to be Head Honcho In Charge Of All The X-Men Even Though We Refuse To Render a Hard Verdict On Whether Or Not She’s Canonically Old Enough To Drink Yet. We promise to be impressed by her regardless! I am TIRED. I do not CARE. Let Ororo be the leader she’s always been and always should be, instead of just having her stand behind Punky Brewster: The College Years and co-sign her Important Declarations with an “I’m With Her” T-shirt because lol why even give Ororo dialogue if you don’t need to, am I right, X-writers?

Like....you put Kitty in charge of a lineup that consists of Ororo, Bobby and Bishop, literally ALL of whom are older than her, more powerful than her, have decades more experience than her, AND have experience being team leaders themselves (yes, even BOBBY, albeit his experience wasn’t with an ‘official’ team lineup, but its well established that he was defacto leader of his oddball lineup during the O:ZT era, and he managed to get them all the way to the Final Boss Fight and win the day without a single one of the mutants under his care kicking the bucket in the betwixt time which is like, more than 90% of mutant leaders can say about their team lineups).

I’M JUST SAYING that like, even if you want Kitty to be team leader because she’s obviously qualified, like I’m not even disputing that, I’m just being like bwuh, why THIS particular team though? Its so random and like, none of these characters need the girl they all used to babysit to hold their hands and tell them where to go next and who to zap with some of the most potent mutant powers in all of mutant-dom, all of which carry a degree of responsibility that she’s never had to struggle with herself and never will because like....she can’t accidentally wipe a city off the map when she sneezes.

LOOK I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR PLOT POINT THAT’S BARELY EVEN A PLOT POINT, I just...I don’t get Ultimate Boss Lady Kitty Pryde. I mean, again, its NOT remotely about whether or not she’s capable of the job, she’s more than qualified and competent out the wazoo, I just don’t get the seeming NEED they have to push her as Big Bad Boss Lady when again...Ororo is STANDING RIGHT THERE. It doesn’t make SENSE.

Also, the colorist on this issue SUCKETH THE BIG ONES and needs to go back to coloring school until they can learn to shade and color Ororo’s skin tones appropriately. She should not look like she and Kitty go to the same tanning salon and then get called away to save the day before anything close to a tan is even gotten. Like, what in all the fucks in the great kingdom of Here’s A Lotta Fucks, was up with that fucking colorist. Who hurt you? Whomever told them it was okay for Ororo to look like that deserves a swift kick in the Oh No You Don’t’s.

Okay there you go! My review of the other two that I’ve read so far. Last week was pretty shitty for me so I didn’t even try to read Excalibur #1, because all I knew is it had Apocalypse ‘on the team’ and I noped in the other direction whilst saying, Lord, I do not have the patience this week to see what the fuck they come up with to justify Apoca-freaking-lypse just kicking it around the island and then being all yeah sure, let’s totally team up to go have magical shenanigans in Otherworld, like, I’m sure there’s a reason, but I do not have the brain cells to spare right now on the off chance that the reason is so dumb, multiple of my brain cells simply give up and willfully expire on the spot, rather than try and make sense of the idiocy.

Sooooo, I could just not be giving that premise enough credit, or I could be giving it too much. Time will tell. As for the rest, that about wraps up the current state of my thoughts on all things Dawn of X, with my ultimate takeaway being mostly cool stories so far dudes, but also, just FYI, I refuse to let myself get too too invested in any of this yet, on the off chance that Evil Chucky ISN’T riding shotgun in everyone’s brains and occasionally taking the wheel to use them all to make weird ass decisions like life is one giant game of Grand Theft Auto for him. Because if he’s NOT playing Gepetto to their Pinocchios, there are some WEIRD ASS character beats and story choices going down, and I actually Dislike instead of Like, so making a ruling on just how much of this is Evil Chucky vs how much of this is just Shitty Writing is like....pretty fucking key and I would like enough info to render a verdict on that matter, like, post fucking haste, so plz feel free to stand and deliver on that any day now, Marvel.

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voidwaren · 6 years ago

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Don’t know if you’re doing them still, but here if you like any: “The door’s jammed and I really gotta go.” or “I’m on vacation, you take care of it.” Whale Song verse ; and “It started as a game, then she got hurt.” LiS/Zombie AU. Hope they help with your creative juices!!

finally, here we go. sorry this took so long, I got a little carried away.

probably going to save this one for part three, also, but after I expand it and probably change a few things so it’s somewhat new material. thanks for the prompt, it was a lot of fun!

When Warren woke up that morning, the last thing he’d expected was—well, Chloe, standing at the bottom of his bed with a can of shaving cream in her hand and her rapt attention centered on Nathan’s prone foot from where it kicked up against the bed end. That had definitely been unexpected.

Maybe a better way of putting it was that it was one of the last things he’d been expecting, because while he’d certainly not been expecting that to be happening (he’d question her morals later, because apparently a prank war was involved and he had no want of being a collaborator in any sense of the position), he also hadn’t expected to find out that Nathan might in fact be better dad material than Warren himself was, which went against all laws of humanity in his mind.

Nathan? Potential dad material?

Yeah, he wasn’t ready for that revelation, either.

How, you may ask, could Warren have possibly found out that Nathan’s parental instinct, seemingly despite all odds, was stronger than Warren’s?

Well, via Alice, of course. Kate’s pet bunny rabbit.

Fast forward through Warren crying out in sleep-fuddled confusion and Chloe fleeing the scene faster than the Roadrunner before Nathan could rouse himself and see her, and then the following morning ritual of actually getting ready for the day, and stop a good few hours in with Chloe returning to Warren’s side only to shove a key at him.

“The shit is that for?” Nathan commentates, throwing a look first to the key and then to Chloe herself.

Chloe raises her hands, giving Warren a blameless look. “Spring break, dudes. I got places to be and a death in the family is so not my issue.”

Warren whips his gaze to Chloe in alarm, blinking rapidly. “What? Who died?”

“Who cares?” Nathan cuts in before Chloe can explain anything, and Warren has to resist the momentary want of cramming something in Nathan’s mouth to get him to shut up a second. “What the shit is this key?”

“Do you have eyes, Prickdick?” Chloe taunts, pointing at the key.

Both Warren and Nathan drop their heads to squint at the text adorning the top. “Two twenty-two?” Warren tries. He looks up at Chloe again. “Why do you have Kate’s room key?”

Next to him, Nathan’s head nods minutely, like Warren had answered something he’d been wondering himself.

“Max wants you to feed the rabbit,” Chloe says. Warren blinks at her.

“You mean she wants you to do it, but you can’t be assed to, so you’re making us do it,” Nathan corrects.

“Damn,” Chloe says with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe you do still have a brain cell rattling around in there.”

Nathan flips her a double bird in response. Warren closes the key in his fist, slipping it into his pocket. “And you’re not doing it,” Warren states by way of an attempt at getting Chloe to explain herself.

She shrugs a single shoulder. “I’m on vacation,” she informs them, like she wasn’t a Blackwell dropout standing right in front of them in her hometown. “You take care of it.” And then, before either of them can say anything in protest, she turns heel and leaves.

“Why does Max have Marsh’s room key in the first place?” Nathan asks once Chloe has fled the scene and left him and Warren to deal with the blow they’d been dealt.

Warren frowns. “She usually takes care of the rabbit when Kate’s not around, but Kate left after Max, so.”

Nathan frowns in return. “We’re missing something here.”

“Aren’t we always?” Warren replies with a sigh. “Whatever, it’s not important. Let’s go feed this bunny so we can go eat in peace.”

“We?” Nathan repeats, looking offended. “Why do I have to go? I don’t even like animals.”

Warren grabs his elbow and tugs. Despite his protests, Nathan complies easily. “You and I both know that’s not true,” Warren says as they walk the path back to the dorms. “I’ve seen your browser history. You like cats.”

Nathan grumbles something in return to that accusation, but it’s so low that Warren doesn’t quite catch it. He knows he’s right, though, so he doesn’t push the argument further, and, after a few minutes of navigating to the girls’ side of the dormitories, they let themselves into Kate’s room.

It looks much the same as it always has the few times Warren has been inside it. Neat, minimalistic in a sense, and very, very Kate. Warren has to grab Nathan’s jacket by the collar almost the moment they’re over the threshold.

“Don’t go rifling through her things,” Warren warns. “It’s one thing to ransack my room. Kate probably doesn’t even know we’re in here, and we’re only here for one thing.”

The thing in question being the cage on the dresser to the left, housing a very small black and white rabbit. Warren didn’t know much about rabbits, but he figured with enough Googling, he could keep it alive long enough for Kate to return.

Which brought him to his first problem: how long exactly was he supposed to take care of it?

“Chloe didn’t say how long we’re supposed to feed it, did she?” Warren asks despite knowing the answer, releasing Nathan so he can pull his cell phone out and ask her. Nathan doesn’t offer an answer and smacks Warren’s hand for good measure before ambling up to the cage. The rabbit cowers in the corner, nose twitching madly, and Nathan shoves both his hands in the pockets of his jacket and slumps his shoulders, head lilting slightly.

No idea, probably a couple days, is Chloe’s answer to Warren’s inquiry, and Warren sighs as he stows his phone again. “All right, guess we’re taking it to my room.”

Nathan gives him a look. “You’re kidnapping Marsh’s child?”

“What? No. That doesn’t even make sense, I was asked to take care of it.”

“You were asked to feed it,” Nathan points out drily. “Not become a second mother to it.”

“I’m only taking it so I can make sure it’s okay,” Warren explains as he picks the cage up in both arms, grunting slightly when he struggles to keep it from tilting too much. The rabbit, clearly frightened, thumps the bottom of the cage.

“Look, you’re going to give it a heart attack,” Nathan offers.

Warren shoots him a look. “Shut up and get the door.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Nathan sing-songs, but gets the door all the same. Warren struggles to get the cage out in one go, but, thankfully, only bumps it once against the doorframe. Somehow, they make it back to his room in one piece, and Warren’s first mistake comes in the form of opening the rabbit cage before making sure the whole room had been rabbit-proofed. As small as it is, the rabbit immediately darts out the opening from under Warren’s arm and bolts for his desk. Warren makes a belated noise of alarm, startling Nathan in turn, and lunges way more than just a beat too late.

“Oh, fucking perfect, Gayram,” Nathan says acidically, dropping to the floor next to him. “How the hell are we going to get it out?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Warren mumbles, peering into the dark of the underdesk. “Eventually,” he tacks on, but at a whisper. Nathan, being right next to him, hears him and shoots him a withering look.

“I’m not sleeping in here with a rodent on the loose.”

“So sleep in your own room for once,” Warren retorts, but it’s more offhandedly ashe starts to think of a way to get the rabbit out. “Do we have anything a rabbit can eat?” he asks before Nathan can do anything with the previous statement. Nathan pulls back, looking at the cage, then shuffles along on his knees until he’s facing it.

“Get away from the desk,” he orders, sticking a hand into the open door. Warren scrambles away, waiting to see what Nathan’s going to do.

And that is how Warren learns that, as it turns out, Nathan’s fatherly instinct (if you could call it that) is indeed stronger than Warren’s, and Warren takes a brief moment to wonder how the fuck that ended up being the universe’s choice as Nathan reaches into the cage and fluffs the alfalfa in the center, making a soft clicking noise with his tongue. The rabbit’s nose pokes out from under Warren’s desk and twitches.

“What’s the thing’s name?” Nathan asks, almost under his breath, as he pulls a straw of alfalfa out and holds it in the rabbit’s direction, coaxing it just an inch further out.

“Uh,” Warren starts. He points to the label on the cage. “Alice, I think.”

Nathan turns to look with a frown. “How do you know that’s the name?”

“Well, it’s not Kate’s name, and she doesn’t have a sister named Alice.” Warren shrugs. “Process of elimination.”

Nathan turns back to Warren again. “How the hell do you know the names of her sisters?”

“Because Kate is my friend?”

If Nathan has an answer for that one, it’s lost in favor of Alice slipping a hop further from the dark recess of the desk, face reaching for the alfalfa. Warren holds his breath as, hop by inching hop, Alice makes her full way to Nathan’s outstretched hand and takes the straw.

“Shh…” At first, Warren isn’t sure where the low, hiss of a noise comes from, and it takes him a moment to realize Nathan is the source of the easy shushing. Slowly, with his other hand ascending from above her, Nathan touches a single finger down on Alice’s head, and Warren feels as if he’s witnessing a miracle when Alice makes no move to attack or run away again.

“How the hell did you do that?” Warren asks, not daring to raise his voice beyond a low whisper.

“I have a way with all women, assmunch,” is all Nathan offers, complete with a smirk that could grease Warren’s rusty car door, and Warren rolls his eyes in return.

“You know what this means, right?” he says once Alice has been coaxed into Nathan’s lap, a small pile of alfalfa littering the expanse of his jeans, while Warren himself has moved to the bed to watch the scene unfold before him. Nathan looks up at Warren with an eyebrow raised in question. “Obviously, you’re going to have to take care of her. She likes you.”

Instead of objecting or making some sort of scene like Warren had been expecting in response to his half-joking declaration, Nathan only frowns, turning his attention back onto the small black-and-white lump of fur.

“Guess so,” he finally says, then gives Warren a demeaning look. “You’d probably only kill her.”

“Hey!” Warren protests, almost too loudly, and is immediately shushed (rather rudely, he might add) when Alice jumps up from her relaxed position. He’s warned not to make another noise lest he wants to taste his own bed sheets for the next eternity, and has no choice but to leave Alice to Nathan’s relative devices until Kate’s return.

(In the end, he’s fine with that. He gets a few pictures out of the deal, which is more than enough for him.)

#life is strange #grahamscott #asks #drabble #WiS AU extras

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annaalexiswrites · 6 years ago

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Chasing Your Chances Prologue

On Bluebell Row in Ashwick Wharf, there are fifteen houses. On the outside, all the houses are exactly the same.

Two stories with a basement and a garage, made out of brick, with four windows on each floor, a brown driveway and a black mailbox.

Every single one of them.

But inside, with all the different people, no two houses are alike.

Number one belongs to Marianne Russel and Marianne Russel alone, at least for now.

She has one spare bedroom and one room that's supposed to be a spare bedroom but ended up becoming a shoe room, filled bottom to top with shoes and boots of all kinds and colors, straps and strapless, buttons and laces, anything and everything anyone could possibly imagine. And yet she manages to buy at least one new pair a month. Although her shoe room is her happy place, her kitchen is her home. She owns Bluehill Diner, her pride and joy, birthplace to the best baked goods in town, only serving the very best of her creations that have been through several dozen test runs and taste tests, both by her alone and with Addie Thomas, her best friend and designated guinea pig.

Number two is owned by Addie Thomas and Addie Thomas alone, but it's inhabited by not only Addie, but Winn Brooks and Clara Brown-Murphy. They each have their own room, Addie with her dance shoes hanging off her Tae Kwon Do belt holder that's surrounded by flowers and the centerpiece of a pristine room, Winn has a very neat, clean room, except for one corner that's covered in paper and pencils and paint and brushes and charcoal and any art tools he, or his parents, could get his, or their, hands on and Clara has a messily clean room, everything with a place and in its place, including her extensive collection of books sprawled across her floor and furniture, it just so happens that no one besides her can find anything.

Number three is owned by Lucy Carter's grandmother, but Lucy and her cousin, Adria, are staying in it during their gap year, with all the plans in the world to move out and either travel or go to college next year, but life has a funny way of changing plans. Like the rest of the Row Houses, there's three bedrooms on the second floor and one in the basement, but Adria and Lucy ended up sharing the master bedroom, anyways. It had the necessities, but the main decorations, the main spirit of the home, was in the kitchen. They weren't good at cooking, far from it actually. If Marianne and her culinary school, bakery-owning eyes ever saw one of their concoctions, she might just cry. Some of their concoctions made them cry. But some didn't. And those some were enough to keep trying, keep experimenting, keep staying up past midnight dancing in their underwear as they cook and bake and try to not burn the house down.

Number four is inhabited by Hetty, the police chief, her husband, Adam, the local doctor. Adam has a daughter and a son, Helaine and Elijah, from his first wife and Hetty has a daughter, Natalie, from her first husband. They lived in Ashwich their whole lives, but only moved to Bluebell Row when Hetty and Adam got married four years earlier. Elijah, the oldest at 22, has transformed the basement apartment to an attempt at a bachelor pad, but it ultimately failed and now he uses it to hide from Helaine and Natalie when they fight with each other or when they're actually getting along and decide to gang up on him. Hetty has her wooden sculptures decorating all the mantles, Adam has his decorative pillows covering every possible sitting surface, Elijah has his video games strewn across every floor, Helaine has her skateboard at the precisely worst spot at almost all times and Natalie has her collection of hair pins and scrunchies throughout the house, in every cushion and cabinet.

Number five is home to Elody Thomas, her boyfriend Jonas O'Sullivan, their five month and two week old baby Francesca and their beloved Spot the dog. Elody runs the local tea parlor so tea cups and pots and bags are in all the cabinets for practical reasons and around the living and family room as decoration. Jonas has one spot for his favorite DVD's, but besides that left everything else for Elody to decide and Francesca and Spot to destroy. By the time Francesca was three months old, and Spot almost three years, they had given up trying to tell the difference between dog and baby toys and just settled on not letting any of them go in the baby's mouth.

Number six is constantly occupied by Georgie Hermann and Fluffy the Bunny and occasionally occupied by Georgie's boyfriend, Conrad, who's often on the road due to his job at Purple Prime Trucking. Growing up in foster care with no constant home, Georgie finally found a home with Conrad, but quickly learned that you should never find a home in someone who can't have one. After many fights and accusations of Georgie cheating with her boss at Ashwick Wharf Law, Conrad surprised Georgie with not only a down payment on one of the Row Houses, but a promise to be there at least once a week and a bunny that will be there 24/7 for her. He was not, however, anticipating just how much of a mess a bunny can make when he made that particular purchase. Georgie's smile and knowing that she feels happy and content is enough for Conrad to part with his favorite pair of shoes and losing all hope of ever having any paper last more than five seconds in the house.

Number seven, much like number seven, has full-time and part-time residents. The full-time residents are Sadie Adams and her niece, Julia Adams. The part-time residents are Sadie's boyfriend, Axel, and his son, Lucas. Axel was another truck driver and Lucas lived with his mother most of the time, but recently decided to move in with his father for the school year. No one knows why, not even Lucas, but he wanted a change and this seemed like a good way to do it, even if he has to live with his father who he hates, his father's girlfriend who he hates by association, and his father's girlfriend's niece who got to be raised by his father when he didn't, which is also enough reason to hate her, at least in Lucas' opinion. Her incessant need to decorate the house with small and useless pillows didn't endear her to him in the least.

Number eight was previously unoccupied for several years, but just last week the Delgado family moved in. Mateo and Isabella are the parents who love their children more than anything. The oldest child is Maria, the oldest and only boy is Cristiano, the middle child is Astrid, the second youngest is Sofia and the very youngest is Valentina. The Delgado parents do their best to not favor any of their children and treat them all equally, but with Valentina being deaf, Maria being 27 and having no motivation or drive and Cristiano being the only boy, it's very hard to not leave Astrid and Sofia behind with less attention.

Number nine has the rest of the Thomas siblings, both Elody and Addie having moved out two and four years previously. Lucien is the oldest in the house but younger than Elody and Addie, and works as a computer programmer, making enough money to let Philippa, the next youngest, focus on college and not have to work. James, the next youngest, and the latest one to graduate college, was currently trying to find a way to tell his siblings he'll also be the latest to move out of the house and in with his boyfriend, Albert, made more difficult by Lucien being convinced that their lack of a sex life and plans to continue that absence negated their relationship being valid. Camille, the youngest and only one still in high school, was much more accepting of him and Albert, although she was far too busy being a senior and trying to find out what career she'd pursue after high school to get in the middle of his and Lucien's fights anymore. Still, they managed to add a little of themselves to their home, mainly with an abundance of posters and and wall hangings covering every wall in an effort to be the sibling with the most wall space.

Number ten, the Roberts, was the most conventionally decorated of the row houses. Jodie, the mother, is an interior decorator and refuses to have her house be anything less than the best. Jodie's husband, Nate, was a plumber who was perfectly fine with his wife taking over decorating as long as he got to keep his TV and watch games at least once a week. The children were all allowed to decorate their own rooms to their liking, which Albert, the oldest and James' boyfriend, used to his full advantage, picking decorations and furniture specifically chosen to piss off his mother, who did not take kindly to the fact that Albert not only came as asexual but also told the neighbors, seeing it as a personal insult to her and how hard she worked to build the perfect family. Molly, the middle child and ever her mother's little darling, struggled with both supporting her brother and not going against her mother. Jack, the youngest at only ten, was too young to fully understand why Albert would watch games with his dad and talk to him to no end but wouldn't say a word to his mother and was perfectly happy idolizing his brother without thinking about his mother at all.

Now number eleven was something different entirely. The rest of the row was, if not friends, friendly. But not number eleven. Number eleven was occupied by Gabrielle Smith, Edgar Martinez, Melitta Roy, Makenna Jenkins, Darlene and Noraly. No one ever asked Noraly or Darlene's last names, they were just the children of the Knockmore – the only house on the row with a name and so named because of the sign that was put up on the house long before the current residents moved in and will still be there long after they're gone. They went to a private school the next town over, rarely going into town themselves. The adults often went into town, always two or three of them at a time, never alone and never all four, and never saying more than they absolutely needed to. No one knew where they worked or what they did in the house, but it somehow seemed different than the rest of the houses, larger and more intimidating, even though it was as perfectly similar as the rest of them.

Number twelve was a much more welcoming place than number eleven, home to Emilie and Kenneth Wilson, married for 25 years and will be married for 25 more, as they're sure to tell you if you ask about how they met, at least until next year when they'll be married for 26 years and will be married for 26 more. No one knows why they always say that, except for their daughter, Andrea, a senior in high school and the only one with the knowledge that they started a bet when they were first married to always say how long they were married and say that they'll married for as many more whenever asked and whoever stops first has to dye their hair pink and, far worse, has to admit they lost. Their house is cluttered with knickknacks from different eras, Emilie being unable to resist a few trinkets every time she goes to an estate sale to get inventory for her antique store. Kenneth, a historian, and Andrea, who always feels out of place if everything is too new, both appreciate it every time something new shows up, seeing who can figure out what time period it is before the other.

Number thirteen, the most eclectically decorated of the row houses, a mixture of traditional and modern Korean décor as well as the occasional comic book trinket that Peter sneaked past his mother, belongs to the Park Family, who own and work at the local book store, Downtown Books. Jin-Hee, the father, bought it when he was just 19 years old, putting all of his savings into it. It was there he met Min-Jun, then his bookkeeper, now his bookkeeper, wife and mother of his three children. The youngest is Peter, a junior in high school and forever plagued that his name is Peter Park and not Peter Parker. The middle child and only girl is Esther, already graduated from getting an Associate's in Art and working at Downtown Books. The oldest, Daniel, both followed his father's footsteps and severely deviated from them. He met his one day wife, Jordan, at Downtown Books, instantly knowing that he would marry her as soon as he saw her, just like his father. However, his father, who had never touched a drop of alcohol, was far different than Daniel, who just got out of rehab less than a year ago. Jordan, not wanting to distract him from staying sober, refused to date him. She said when he was sober a year she would date him and he was planning on holding her to that, but just being her friend and coworker was enough for now. He could do without Peter and Esther's, and sometimes his father's, constant teasing and singing of Daniel and Jordan k-i-s-s-i-n-g, though.

Number fourteen is, like the Park home, very eclectic. Rosemary Miller and her daughter, Sarah, live there. It was a mixture of things they need, like Rosemary's wheelchair, and things they want, like the giant knitted blanket on the back of the couch that the two of them knitted together. It's nice and cozy and they're both so happy it made up for all the sneers and whispers Rosemary had to go through when she was pregnant with Sarah at just 18 and with no boyfriend or plans to get one. It made up for Rosemary finding out she has MS when Sarah was two years old and it made up for Sarah constantly being afraid of losing her mother. It made up for Sarah wanting to build her life around her mom's and it made up for Rosemary trying to convince her otherwise. It made up for the looks they got when Rosemary had to use her wheelchair and it made up for when Sarah was teased in school about it. It made up for Sarah getting into fights over the teasing and it made up for Rosemary coming down to the school to get into fights with teachers and principles. It made up for the hard life that they didn't deserve and it made them think it wasn't so bad afterall.

Number fifteen is inhabited by Jayne and Peter Brown-Murphy, mother and step father to Clara Brown-Murphy, as well as Jayne and Peter's twin daughters, Delilah and Natalia, currently 13 and in their final year of middle school and about as different in personality as they are similar in appearance, and twin sons, Elijah and Aiden, both currently 5 and about as similar in personality as they are different in appearance. Despite Clara moving out four months ago, her clothes and books still clutter the house, something new being left or picked up or both almost every time she comes over, which is still at least once a day. Peter's job as a lawyer has affected his style only in the sense that he's as bad with keeping his books in one place as his step daughter, which is fine with Jayne who could never decide on just one style so decorated with all of them, Peter and the children more than happy to deal with a little clashing as long as Jayne kept smiling and cooking their meals, both of which made all of their hearts melt.

That is, currently, all of the residents of Bluebell Row. Not all of their secrets or stories or past, all of which would take much longer to go through, although no doubt would be worth the time to read it all.

What do you think? Any constructive criticism or comments are very much appreciated!

Tag list: @drowsy-quill, @cjjameswriting, @katabasiss, @essenceofsunset .

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