#ive been thinking a lot lately about how desperate i was at 16 to just survive long enough to get out and be able to breath | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years ago

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Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: Referenced child abuse, blood

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 4/16 (all chapters)

You were scared of a lot of things: bugs, dark places, ghosts, drowning and more. Your friends often joked that you were a wimp and you’d bever been inclined to disagree.

There was one thing, however, that scared you above all others. It sent shivers down your spine and left your legs wobbling from under you.

It was the door to your father’s home office.

Your father was a prosecutor and a pretty notorious one at that, famous for the number of guilty verdicts he had achieved over the years. He had an incredible advantage, of course- the same lie detection quirk that he had passed onto you. He spent most of his evenings alternating between his work and home offices, going over the details of cases and preparing for a never ending stream of plaintiffs.

His home office was a near perfect replica of the one in the city, complete with a golden name plaque on the door. You passed it every day, multiple times a day, and each time broke out in goosebumps as if the door watched you in turn.

It wasn’t only the plaintiffs your father needed to find guilty.

Your father was not in the least bit conservative with his quirk. You spent many an afternoon there, jaw clenched and skin crawling at his line of questioning.

Tell me… why were you late?

Tell me… how long did you study?

Tell me… who were you with?

You hated being left so exposed and, in retrospect, you weren’t in the least bit surprised that you ended up vanilla instead of habanero, desperately seeking a simple married life.

The anxiety of standing outside of your father’s home office stayed with you into adulthood, even now that you had your own home. You had started to believe it no longer had an effect on you; that you no longer remembered how it felt.

As you stood outside of the hospital door, though, you remembered clearly.

Hand trembling, you reached up to knock.

━

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER

“Maybe if I move it that way…”

You scrolled through your calendar and let out a sigh at the appointments already there.

“No good, no good.”

You sat back in your chair and stretched, popping your shoulders and wiggling your toes.

“Maybe…”

You had a moment of inspiration, only to groan and click out of the window.

With the sports festival around the corner, your schedule was on the verge of taking a beating. Between modifying your office hours to make appointments with students to discuss their offers, to making room for counselling for those suffering disappointment, to keeping your usual appointments and open office hours, you were starting to consider bringing a futon and moving into your office for the foreseeable future. You’d known it was going to be a tight squeeze, but hadn’t counted on it being this bad.

You logged out of your computer and climbed out of your chair, giving your back a quick rub before leaving your office. You needed an IV of coffee, but a cup would have to do.

You were still thinking about your itinerary as you passed the 1-A classroom. Normally, between Kirishima, Bakugo and Iida, you heard the classroom long before you passed it. Today, though, it was silent and you peered through the window.

You’d heard that they were going on a trip with Thirteen to the USJ for specialist training and, if their empty desks were anything to go by, had already left. You had taken a tour of the facility during your initial induction and it had taken everything you had to keep your jaw from hitting the ground. You knew that UA was well funded, but it didn’t really sink in until then.

You wondered how they were getting on. Had Bakugou destroyed anything yet? Had Midoriya broken any of his bones?

You were still considering it as you passed the faculty lounge, dragged out of your thoughts by the sound of voices within. It sounded like the principal, though you weren’t sure who he was speaking to. You wondered if it was a private conversation and you should come back another time.

You knocked a couple of times before peeping around the door.

“Sorry,” you said, “am I interrupting?”

You really had heard the principal and he appeared to be sharing tea with All Might.

You weren’t sure you would ever be prepared for the sight of All Might in his skinnier form. Like most youngsters of your generation, you had watched his heroic acts in awe. You hadn’t known he was going to join the faculty at the time of your own job application and still found your heart racing whenever you passed him in the corridors.

You had signed eighteen different nondisclosure agreements after successfully taking on the job at UA, of which well over half related to the Symbol of Peace. You knew that he had been injured very badly and was losing his strength at an alarming rate. Even so, it was difficult to adjust to the reality.

“Ah, (Name), come in, come in,” said Principal Nezu, “we were just sharing a cup of tea, would you like some?”

You wanted coffee, but Nezu had already started to pour.

“Of course,” you said, closing the door behind you and taking a seat.

“You got here just in time,” said Nezu, pushing your cup across the coffee table. “We were discussing the fundamentals of teaching.”

“That sounds interesting,” you said, taking a sip of tea. “You must have a lot of insight.”

All Might twitched beside you, visibly restless. You wondered how long Nezu had been talking.

“Apologies,” he said, setting down his cup, “I should get going. I’ve already rested for far too long.”

He got up and walked towards the door, taking a deep breath before transforming into the muscular form the world knew and loved.

You would never get used to that either.

“So, (Name),” said Principal Nezu, “how are you finding the school? I trust you’ve had support from our staff?”

“Everyone’s been really kind,” you said. “I know they’re busy with their own workloads this term, but they’ve had so much time for me.”

You wrapped your hands around your cup, warmth flooding your fingers. You wanted to explain how grateful you were for the opportunity -that not so long ago your life had been falling apart- but you never got the chance, for the door to the lounge flew open and a student stormed inside.

“Principal Nezu! Something terrible has happened!”

It was Iida from 1-A, dressed in his hero costume and visibly out of breath. Your blood ran cold and you glanced across at Nezu, who had gotten to his feet.

“USJ...there’s been an invasion at USJ! Please help!”

Nezu’s response to the matter was swift and efficient. He turned to you, visibly transformed from the mild mannered principal who had offered you a cup of tea.

“(Name),” he said. “I’m going to gather everyone available. I need you to liaise with the authorities.”

“Of course,” you said, setting aside your tea and whipping out your phone.

“Meet us there,” he said as you began to dial.

“S-sir?”

You weren’t a pro hero; what possible use could you be?

━

His intentions soon became clear.

While your colleagues rushed into the danger zone, you stayed behind with the police, hitching a ride with Tsukauchi to the station once the area was secure.

Time was of the essence. You had read enough crime statistics to know that villain attacks very often came in waves, making the next few hours crucial to the safety of UA. Having a human lie detector on hand during the interrogations was more than a little bit useful.

You only wished you could concentrate.

Everything you knew about the incident came straight from Tsukauchi, so even though you had never actually seen the full extent of the carnage, you knew enough for your imagination to run wild.

You knew that the students had escaped with minor injuries and, while Shouta was badly hurt, he wasn’t dead. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, especially since the only image of the incident you had seen was that of his goggles broken on the floor.

You sat beside Tsukauchi in the interrogation room, silent as they brought in prisoner after prisoner. You only spoke to activate your quirk; only dragged yourself out of your contemplations to ask the same set of questions.

Three hours later, you knew only fractionally more than you did to begin with. The villains you’d caught were blatant throwaways, with no knowledge at all of the man they’d followed into battle or a greater scheme. They’d all wanted to take a shot at the symbol of peace and had no idea how close they had come to succeeding.

“Are you going to be alright?” Tsukauchi asked as interrogations came to a close.

You knew you must have looked a mess, popping aspirin and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, “honestly.”

“I’ll organise a car to take you to UA,” he said, but you shook your head.

“No, no that’s okay. I need to go somewhere first.”

━

Technically, you had two places to go first.

You stopped by the police station washroom to freshen up, leaning over the sink as the migraine set in. You pinched the bridge of your nose and watched as it began to bleed.

You weren’t used to using your quirk for such a long period of time and had almost certainly overdone it. The bleeding began to slow and you switched on the tap, washing away the blood on your face before plugging your nostrils with tissue paper. Unfortunately, you had still managed to bleed on your collar.

Just your luck that you would use your quirk too much on the day you decided to wear your new white blouse. You cursed at your reflection, trying and failing to adjust your shirt in such a way that it wasn’t noticeable.

Even now, you couldn’t concentrate.

You had never crossed paths with so many villains in one day. You had watched your father cross examine witnesses and plaintiffs many, many times, but had never been in his shoes. You hated it.

You knew exactly how they felt when you activated your quirk, recognised the squirming as it crawled through their skin. Part of you had enjoyed it, knowing that their discomfort in that moment did not compare to the violence they had inflicted on others.

Shouta.

The violence they had inflicted on Shouta.

He was a hero, you told yourself. He had signed up to fight those very same villains.

Even so, you hated them for it in ways you’d never hated a villain before.

You thought back to your training and took a deep breath.

“This is normal,” you whispered. “This is normal. This is a negative emotional response to a distressing situation. This is normal, we’ll move on.”

You took another deep breath, but your heart still rattled.

What is it that’s bothering me?

You reached into your purse for your makeup, painting away the shock for now at least.

We can work through that later.

━

PRESENT

And so, there you were, standing outside of Shouta’s room in the hospital.

They’d put him under the care of one of the best doctors in Musutafu, who assured you that surgery had been a success and his life was not in danger. There was a high chance his quirk would be affected by the damage to his orbital floor but even that was lucky, all things considered.

You tapped at the door and let yourself inside, taking in the calm and quiet of the room. Shouta was tucked up in bed and connected to numerous monitors, their steady beeps breaking the silence. You closed the door behind you and crept over to the bed, taking in the bandages that covered almost every inch of his body.

You had always known that heroes risked death and worse on a daily basis but had never seen it in person. You didn’t know how to feel about seeing him bloodied and broken. You had seen this man naked; you’d held onto the arms that a villain had broken. Did it always feel this personal?

You took a seat next to his bed, taking note of exactly how much of him was covered in bandages. You wouldn’t have known it was him if you hadn’t been told otherwise.

You didn't know what you had expected to find at the hospital, only that it would give you closure.

Why, then, did you still feel so uneasy?

You recalled his words from only recently, after you had given him a faceful of pepper spray.

Why would you try and confront a villain without help? You could have gotten yourself killed.

You need to be more rational in these things. Running head on into danger gets people killed.

Why hadn’t he followed his own advice?

Truthfully, you knew exactly why.

He had been well aware of the danger, but made the call anyway. He had analysed the situation and prioritised the lives and safety of his students over his own. It was the right thing to do and the rational part of you knew that, but you didn’t feel very rational right then.

You had to report back to Nezu; had to adjust your schedule ready for trauma counselling. You weren’t the only one who had been exposed to an unprecedented amount of villains that day. 1-A had almost certainly seen too much too soon.

You knew you had to leave, yet felt guilty as you got to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, hoping that your words would reach him through the anesthesia. “I have to go...but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

You promised yourself that you’d skip lunch if you had to.

“See you,” you said, leaning over to kiss his forehead as if on autopilot.

Your heart skipped a beat once you realised what you’d done.

Oh God, what were you thinking?

You reached into your purse for your chapstick as you left the room, so focused on painting away the kiss that you didn’t notice his fingers twitch.

#aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #boku no hero academia #habanero

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cottage-babe · 4 years ago

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Burning Scars part IV

Previous | Chapter 4 | Next

Masterlist

I’ve been watching haikyuu and Nishinoya is so cute :(((

This chapter is going to fill in pretty much EVERYTHING related to Y/n’s past. also i feel like this shorter than my other chapters idk

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar's destiny?

*****This chapter takes place on Season 2 Episode 11*****

___

“Thank you,” Y/n said as she accepted the cup of tea from Mushi.

The boys were surprisingly welcoming to her. Lee had begun to ask questions as soon as she came up to them, but his uncle had told him to stop and let her speak. He set up a pot of tea and had now given some to the young teens.

All throughout the wait for the drink, Y/n’s mind was racing. Where does she start? How much does she tell them? The girl desperately wanted to come clean, but her loyalty to her pack deterred her. However, she knew that she had no obligations anymore, so why was she still so stuck on them?

Mushi took the spot next to Lee and quietly sipped his drink. His eyes weren’t on her, but she could feel that his desire for answers was just as strong as Lee’s.

She took a deep breath and started her story.

“So I’m a- uh- werewolf.”

Silence.

The girl knew that she probably should’ve continued from there, but she couldn’t help but wait for their reactions. Or rather, lack thereof.

Y/n didn’t want to look up at their faces. If she did, she knew that their facial expressions would cause her to assume things and she didn’t want to guess their emotions; if they felt something, then they would need to say it.

“Oh, well, we know that much!” The uncle laughed lightly, breaking the obvious tension.

“But Uncle, I thought you said they were only myths; fiction.” Lee questioned.

“What more proof do you need? She’s a living, breathing piece of evidence!”

The teen nodded his head as he thought about that logic. Y/n assumed that it would be hard for him to process; just yesterday he had heard the story and now there she was, telling him that it wasn’t a myth, it was completely real and in front of him.

“So, are you the only one? Or are there more?” Lee thought for a moment. “Wait, no, you mentioned a town before; there’s a whole village of werewolves?!”

I have no obligations toward my pack. I have no obligations toward my pack. I have no obligations toward my pack.

“Yes,” she said confidently. It was about time that she went past her fear of her pack. They could no longer control her, she was her own person who could make her own decisions.

But they’re your family.

Y/n shook the thought out of her head. Family doesn’t treat family that way.

“Don’t ask me where they live or anything, because I won’t speak it.” Y/n succumbed to her guilty side slightly, hoping it would soothe her small feelings of regret.

“We won’t, we promise,” Mushi said while sending a stern stare toward Lee. The boy nodded his head once again.

Lee continued with his questions, though. “Why aren’t you with them then? You came to us two days ago, alone. Did something happen?”

Why does he ask so many questions?

She supposed that if she wanted to maintain their trust, she would have to wipe the slate clean; no more lies and no more hiding. They already knew that her kind existed, so there was no way that she would let them leave her behind.

“In my pack, there’s a rite of passage that we must do when we turn 16...”

___

This was it. The day that everyone in the pack was waiting for.

The L/n children’s Days of Trials.

The morning had started wildly; their mom had helped clean the fur of all five of her “pups” while they watched decorations and food being prepared from afar. The village was quite small and had wooden huts for each family. Each one had a large leaf door that slid close for privacy; they had evolved a lot since their original days. Almost everyone in the pack was helping set up, except for the male Alpha.

That man just so happened to be their father; the exact reason why everyone was making such a big fuss over today. The Alpha’s children were going to be doing their trials to prove their worth to the pack. Some of the other wolves were excited and curious to see how the days would pan out; recently, there had been a spike of children who couldn’t complete the tasks assigned.

However, there were many members who didn’t quite care for the right of passages. Every time the children of their leaders undergo the trials, they pass with flying colors. Never has there been a “royal” family child that didn’t meet the standards that were put up.

Half of the workers around were in their human bodies to put up the decor while the other half were using their wolf’s to carry heavy things. It was a beautiful harmony that Y/n enjoyed on the Days of Trials; no one in the pack was looked down on for using their human skins. People would only use what was convenient.

The five teen’s mother changed down to her human form. Her children copied her actions.

Their mother had long, overgrown hair and lively eyes. She was the kindest mother that the kids could ever dream of having. The wrinkles that surrounded her eyes not only showed age, but her strong, wise experience. She was absolutely perfect.

Mother sighed as she looked at each one of her kids in the eyes.

“I want all of you to know that no matter what happens, I am proud of you,” she smiled so sweetly. “You worked so hard to be here and no amount of trials can take that away.”

Just as she said that, someone called for her aid and she had to leave, but not before leaving a kiss on all five of her kid’s foreheads.

Soon, the siblings were left alone.

“I-I don’t know if I can do this,” Fen spoke while trying to even out his erratic breaths. “It just feels so wrong to lie like this.”

Ayano rubbed Fen’s back to try and calm him. Then, Binu spoke up.

“I hate to agree with him, but he’s kinda right. Mom’s worried about our safety while we’re here with a secure plan? It feels sick to let her be so scared.”

Shong crossed his arms with a glare. “Don’t be dumb, guys. Our plan makes it so we all come out alive. If anything, we’re doing her a favor.”

They’re tall brother spoke some truths. The siblings had devised a scheme a long time ago to ensure that each member completed their tasks efficiently and met the bare minimums.

They’re first task would be to go out and hunt a total of three animals before the sun rose to the center of the sky, signaling noon. Y/n and Binu were the best hunter’s of the family; while Y/n took hiding in the shadows easy, Binu was fast enough to outrun any animal. The two would use their skills to help the other’s catch their prey and make it back before their time ended.

Then, their next task would be working as a group to capture something that belonged to an opposite group (sort of like capture the flag). It was meant to see if the group could work together nicely and form a strategy. Luckily for them, Shong was very smart and him with the combination of Ayano would be able to easily make up a plan for any situation.

Lastly, the five siblings would have to fight head on with each other and gain a total of two wins. They weren’t aware of the line up, but the siblings knew that no matter who went up against who, they would stick to the plan.

If they didn’t, then members of their family could be gone forever.

___

“Ahh, I see,” Mushi said once the girl took a pause in her story to drink her tea, “Your plan didn’t work, then?”

Y/n shook her head softly and spoke quietly. “No, no. It did work. We made it past the first two trials so quickly, we almost broke a record.” A frown slowly set upon her face. “It was just at the third trial that things didn’t go as smoothly...”

___

“I think a congratulations is in order!” Ayano yelled as she held her wooden cup up into the air.

Y/n let out a laugh and grabbed her sister’s arm. “We haven’t even finished everything yet. The last Test is tomorrow, so maybe you should get some sleep.”

Her siblings were, to say the least, drunk.

One of them (at this point, Y/n couldn’t remember who) had stolen some liquor and brought it to the brothers and sisters. They all had a couple drinks, but Y/n and Fen seemed to be the only ones smart enough to remember what tomorrow was.

They had finished the first day of the Trials; they had assumed that it would be the hardest due to the randomness of it, but it had seemed fairly easy.

Many say that the Days of Trials were never meant to be hard, they just weeded out the absolute weakest of a bunch. Y/n wasn’t entirely sure how other’s had failed the tasks, but she didn’t like to think much of it.

There were rumors of what had happened to the werewolves that didn’t pass. Some say that they were forced to live in solitude for the rest of their lives... others say that the pack’s fighters chase them down for fun.

It was a little alarming that not even she, daughter of a family who is ranked so high, knew what happened to those poor wolves.

Ayano clumsily transformed into her wolf skin and whined softly. Y/n sighed before looking at Fen.

“You can take care of the other boys, right?”

He gave her a small salute. “Yup, I got it.”

She was about to help her sister out before Fen began to talk again. Y/n turned around to see Binu on the floor, but Shong was no where to be seen.

“Uhh... you wouldn’t happen to know where Shong is, Y/n?”

The girl groaned in exasperation and dropped her sister onto the floor.

Just as the brother and sister were about to leave their hut to search for him, the man in question pushed his way passed the hanging door and paused when he met their stare.

“Dude, we were about to go look for you.” Fen groaned out, then went to the passed out Binu on the floor. “Help me bring him to our room.”

And with that, the two semi-sober siblings completely ignored Shong’s time of leave, despite knowing that no one else in their pack was awake that late into the night.

The next afternoon, the five of them rushed to a big, open center where the rest of the pack was surrounding. Almost everyone was in their wolf skins, so they copied the actions of their fellow members. It was there that the children learned of the order that they were fighting in.

There would be ten matches: each teen going against each of their siblings. A battle would be won once the victor gets their opponent outside of the circle. This trial was supposed to be the easiest for the five brothers and sisters. Emphasis on supposed.

Their fights went semi-smoothly.

At first, it was hard for the wolves to pretend to fight. They attacked each other like it was their dying wish, but in reality it was all a part of their plan.

Just two wins each, that’s all they needed.

By the time seven matches finished, Binu had already received his two wins; the rest of his fights ended with him losing dramatically as if he were in a play. Shong also had his two wins, but he still had to fight two more rounds and give his opponents the victory.

The eighth battle was between Shong and Fen.

Fen only had one win under his belt, which meant that Shong would need to lose. Y/n knew what her tall brother’s tactic was when he need to lose the fight; he would put on a huge show to demonstrate his strength, then would pretend to make a misstep that costs him the win. It was extremely entertaining for the crowd.

The siblings waited on the outskirts of the circle with the rest of the pack. The wolves around them were howling and barking in excitement. It was going to be such an amazing fight; Fen was seen as a weak asset and it seemed like Shong was going to completely destroy him.

The two sisters shared a look that said exactly what they were both thinking: if only the pack knew what was really going to happen.

And with that, the teen’s father let out a bellowing howl; the signal for the battle to begin.

Shong began his usual wolf dance. He skirted around each of Fen’s attacks and landed soft, teasing blows to his brother’s hide. He would only let Fen hit or bite him every once in a while, his only goal being to feed the crowd’s desire for a difficult fight.

‘Okay, this is it.’ Y/n thought to herself, ‘Right about now, Shong should let Fen win.’

Just as the thought crossed her mind, her tall brother stopped his antics. It was a bit too sudden and the crowed around them let out a confused noise. It seemed as though Shong was... looking at someone.

The girl followed his gaze all the way until it landed on their father. From her position, she couldn’t quite see the silent conversation they were having, but it seemed important.

It was then that Fen struck.

He pounced on his brother and shoved him straight out of the circle.

It was silent for a moment, but eventually the noise flew up and cheered for the weaker sibling. It was a true display of power, even of the two hadn’t planned it.

The look on Shong’s face was indescribable. It was a mixture between sad, angry, happy, and... something else. It was like every contradicting emotion was running through the wolf’s system.

‘Why is he acting like that? This loss isn’t any different from the other ones.’

___

“I should’ve seen what was coming next,” Y/n spoke. “With the way he was acting... I just never expected him to be the one that broke all of us apart.”

___

It was the middle of the ninth match.

Shong was up again, for the final time, but was against Ayano.

Now, their sister wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. There were multiple times that she had fought one of the pack members for bullying a sibling (mainly Fen or Y/n). She wasn’t the strongest or the smartest or the fastest, but she made up for her weaknesses with her quick thinking. Her mind connected dots faster than all of her siblings combined and it’s what made her standout. Ayano’s passion and fast brain made her a threat to some of the strategists that lead beside their father.

The duo’s red eyes glared at each other, circling the edges of the ring while they waited for the other to pounce. In this round, Ayano would receive her final win from her brother and complete her trial.

But why was that look still molded into Shong’s face? He had death in his eyes instead of the playfulness that should’ve existed there. Something’s not right.

Y/n desperately wanted to warn her sister, but if she mentioned anything about their plan, then they would all be banished for treason. It was best to just let it all play out.

Maybe their brother just got really good at acting.

Shong then jumped at Ayano, but the girl dodged it with milliseconds to spare. The brother almost slid out of the circle with the velocity of his jump, but slowed down in time. They both growled at each other.

The same actions repeated itself for the next couple of minutes; one would jump and the other would dodge. It really seemed like they were trying to kill the other, even with Y/n knowing who was supposed to win. It was terrifying.

The brother and sister looked as though they were evenly matched. They predicted the other’s movements like it was their own; they danced as if they had practiced this for hours.

However, the two weren’t the same. Shong was strong and had a everlasting stamina. Ayano didn’t.

The entire crowd could see that Ayano was growing tired. Her movements were turning sluggish and it was taking her longer and longer to dodge any attacks.

Why isn’t Shong letting her win yet?

By now, Shong should’ve done his “misstep” and lost, but he seemed so persistent on his jumps.

Then, as some twisted, sick peice of fate, their brother pounced and Ayano was too exhausted to move out of the way. She let him drag her out of the ring, her body falling limp.

Shong had one, which meant he got three wins; effectively stealing it from Ayano.

That meant that in the last round of Y/n vs Ayano, one sister would be met with the doom of banishment for the rest of their lives.

___

“And so we fought. I let her win. End of story.”

Y/n set down her empty tea cup and looked at the two men in front of her. They were so invested in her story that they had forgotten about their own drinks. Steam and heat no longer rose from the small cups, it instead being a cold, lifeless collection of flavored water.

“Is that- Is she the reason you got hurt?” Lee asked, his voice hoarse from not speaking for a while.

“Uhh, yeah.” She wrung her hands. “Its a rule in my pack: when someone’s banished, they have to have something like that visible on them, so they can never come back. It was only a coincidence that my sister was the one that gave it to me.”

“I am so sorry you had to go through that, Y/n,” Mushi whispered with a frown set on his face. The girl shrugged her shoulders in response.

“I mean, it’s better that it was me and not her. Her navigation skills are subpar, so she would’ve been so lost out here,” she forced a laugh.

Mushi just his head in disbelief while Lee stared at the ground, lost in thought. It made her wonder what was going on in that head of his.

Y/n really hoped that she had made the right decision by telling them the truth. It’s not like anyone would believe these two random travelers if they ever mentioned it. But still, the thought of them telling a town and having her pack torn apart made her shudder.

Lee stood up suddenly.

It surprised the two other people, but they quickly regained their focus as the teen began to speak.

“I think you should stay with us, like for the long run,” he said confidently. “You could help us out a lot, and I think that we could help you.”

“Okay!” She stood up excitedly as well. This was the exact thing that she had been hoping for.

“And, of course, Lee,” Mushi interrupted, “shouldn’t that mean that we tell her the truth about us as well?”

Y/n was almost certain that whatever secret they had couldn’t be as bad as hiding being a werewolf.

The boy puffed out his chest and nodded his head.

“My real name is Prince Zuko and this is my Uncle, General Iroh. We are both from the fire nation.”

Silence.

There were many things running through the girl’s head, but the main one being Oh, so that’s why Mushi yelled out Zuko yesterday!

It took her a moment, but eventually she found something to say.

“You’re a prince? Should I bow or something?”

Le- or- Zuko deflated slightly at her words.

“Is that really all that you have to say?”

Iroh let out a hearty laugh at his nephew’s reaction. He quickly picked up their tea pot and cups while the two teens talked.

“And that ‘fire nation’ stuff, does that have to do with that magic thing you did yesterday?” The girl asked with a tilt of her head. This cause him to shrink even more.

“Y-you mean my bending?”

“Bending? What is tha-”

The girl paused as her ears caught a soft thumping sound; almost identical to the one that awoke her that morning.

Those people must be coming back.

She quickly warned the duo and helped them pack up their things. Just as the noise grew closer and closer, the three of them jumped on their ostrich-horses (in the same positions as they had the day before) and rode out before the group of men could find them again.

Iroh laughed from his horse beside them. “Maybe I should’ve stayed, it was nice to see old friends.”

“Too bad you don’t have any old friends that don’t want to attack you.” Zuko groaned front his seat in front of Y/n.

The three of them were riding pretty fast, so Y/n had her arms gripped around the boy’s torso. He had stiffened at first, but slowly relaxed at her touch.

“Hmm... Old friends that don’t want to attack me...”

___

thanks for sticking w me guys <3

even if you skipped past the memories like i know some do, i appreciate you reading this :)

anyways might actually have some cutesy stuff next chapter so wait till next week to read it <33

Previous | Chapter 4 | Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe ((bolded couldn’t be tagged))

#zuko #zuko x reader #atla

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

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au masterlist

okay ive been meaning to do this for a while, and ive finally got the time to do it so here’s a list of all of my aus!! this is divided by ship for ease, and i do have a lot of pieces that don’t fit into any specific au - so this post is specifically for aus (this is a rly long post so im hiding it under a read more) (also please nobody comment on how similar the summaries are ive never had to think of how im summarising these aus before this post)

all my writing on tumblr // all my writing on ao3

buckytony

1. your pain (is my burden to bear) AU

Summary: soulmate AU where you can feel your soulmate’s pain, and marks that originate from your soulmate’s injuries can be found on your body

2. target and assassin AU

Summary: The Asset has been tasked with the mission of killing Antonia Stark. Falling in love with her along the way was never part of the plan.

3. park bench AU

Summary: they’re both running from their past. in New York, they find each other.

4. taste of your lips AU

Summary: TVD au. Bucky wasn’t planning to stick around in New York, just drop in long enough to fix whatever his brother had fucked up and then leave. But then he meets Toni Stark, and against all odds - he finds himself staying in the one city he’d sworn never to step foot in for all of his immortal life.

5. the second (love of his life) AU

Summary: greek gods AU, Aphrodite!Bucky x Hephaestus!Bucky . Bucky has spent over a thousand years resenting his marriage to Tony, content to ignore his husband in favour of his lover, Steve. but when he’s captured by Joann Schmidt and its Tony, not Steve who comes to his rescue - Bucky finds himself falling for the husband he spent so many years ignoring. Is it too late, or can he fix a marriage that was doomed from the start?

6. waste my time AU

Summary: Tony doesn’t do boyfriends. Tony has a boyfriend - Tiberius, or he will anyway once he convinces Ty that breaking up with him was a horrible idea. But then he meets James Barnes at a bar, and suddenly things don’t seem so black and white anymore

7. elite AU

Summary: a/b/o dynamics. Bucky isn’t planning on starting anything up in his new school, and would’ve been completely content to keep his head down until he graduates. But after a chance kiss with a bambi-eyed omega at a party in the beginning of the school year, things weren’t looking so simple anymore

8. 1000 lives (for you) AU

Summary: James hasn’t been subjected to the Chair in close to 3 years. After all, why would HYDRA use the Chair to control him when they’ve got his soulmate instead?

9. Secret Love Song AU

Summary: Marrying Steve wasn’t what Toni had in mind when she pictured the rest of her life, but it wasn’t any hardship. Of course, that was before James came into her life. (this au has been race and gender bent since the original post)

10. Dilwale AU

Summary: mafia au. Tony and Bucky used to be in love. Now they’ve sworn never to see each other again. ‘Course, MJ and Peter falling for each other puts a kink in those plans.

11. K3G AU

Summary: desi au. As a member of the illustrious Barnes dynasty, Bucky is expected to undertake certain responsibilities; chief of which is marrying someone from a respectable family. Tony Stark from Chandi Chowk might just put a wrench in those plans.

12. buckytony teen wolf AU

Summary: when Tony and Rhodey went searching for a dead body in the woods, a rogue Alpha werewolf was not what they were expecting to find. Overnight, their entire lives change

13. undercover cop AU

Summary: After the events of Afghanistan, Tony can’t bear to work at Stark Industries anymore. Handing over the reins of the company to Pepper, he quits and starts working at Midtown High. but the US government isn’t about to let one of the country’s biggest assets work at a public highschool without even the smallest bit of protection. Enter Agent Barnes, or as Tony knows him - Midtown High’s new gym teacher

14. the K2 AU

Summary: Bucky just wanted to live his life without the Army ever finding him again. Saving Tony Carbonell at a metro station and getting sucked into the intricate life of the italian mafia was never on the agenda.

15. Mara Dyer AU

Summary: fem! Bucky. Bucky was an extremely normal 16 year old girl - if you discounted the fact that her bestfriend and boyfriend died after an abandoned building collapsed on them; and that she was the only person to survive. Then bodies started dropping around her, people that she imagined dying who died in the exact grotesque way she pictured is. and suddenly, there’s nothing really normal about her at all.

16. ACOMAF AU

Summary: fem! Bucky. Bucky kills a wolf. Except its not a wolf, its a Faerie and the High Lord of the Spring Court comes collecting his pound of flesh.

17. centre of his universe AU

Summary: The Asset is fascinated by the Stark Heir.

18. one shot AU

Summary: highschool AU. nerd! tony x punk!bucky. Bucky has has a crush on Tony Stark for his entire highschool career, but he’s never thought he had a shot - choosing instead to pine uselessly while Tony dates what feels like the entire highschool body. Bucky’s resigned himself to the belief that Tony will never be his, until Tony breaks up with longtime girlfriend Rumiko Fujikawa, and suddenly - Bucky has one shot.

19. 1000 lives (for you) AU

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes and Anthony Edward Stark are impossible soulmates - separated by time, distance and space but brought together by horrible pain and suffering. This is their story. Starts from TWS, and is largely canon compliant.

stevetony

1. student of the year AU

Summary: Steve was supposed to keep his head down, get good grades and get a scholarship to a university far enough away that he wasn’t even breathing the same air as his family. But then he becomes bestfriends with Bucky, falls in love with Bucky’s boyfriend Tony - and things get a bit more complicated along the way

2. just friends(?) AU

Summary: Tony did this, thing where he fell in love with his friends. All of his friends, except maybe Steve. (too bad nobody told Steve)

3. captain americana and the heartbreak prince AU

Summary: Steve Rogers has known Tony Stark for 10 years, 4 months and 11 days. He’s been in love with him for the exact same time.

4. om shanti om AU

Summary: It should be noted, for the sake of posterity - that Steve usually wasn’t one to buy into the craze that surrounded celebrities. At the end of the day, they were still people. Tony Stark though, that was his exception.

5. stevetony lawyer AU

Summary: raising a 14 year old boy while juggling a demanding job at the DA’s office wasn’t easy, but Steve made it work. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was a good life. They were happy - and then Peter gets charged with the murder of his classmate Wade Wilson and everything falls apart. With his son facing life in prison, Steve does the only thing he can and calls the best defence lawyer he knows - his almost fiance Tony Stark.

6. schitt’s creek AU

Summary: David! Tony x Patrick! Steve

7. kidnapped! tony stark AU

Summary: Tony gets kidnapped and Steve loses his mind.

8. zindagi na milengi dobara AU

Summary: desi AU. in college, Steve, Sam and Bucky made a promise. 3 weeks, 3 activities, 3 boys and the country of Spain. 15 years later, Sam is getting married and its time for them to make good on that promise, to give him the send-off of the century. But between Sam’s conflicted feelings over his engagement, unresolved tension that threatens to break up the trio; Bucky’s secret agenda and Steve’s workaholic tendencies - it definitely promises to be a trip they’ll never forget

9. arranged marriage AU

Summary: desi AU. Steve has been in love with Tony for years. So when his mother asks him to settle down, he impulsively sends a rishta to the Stark residence; and thinks nothing of it. And then - they reply.

10. betrothed AU

Summary: Tony and Steve are princes of neighbouring kingdoms, promised to each other at birth. But the life of a royal is not as smooth as it seems.

11. the salacious bisexual life of tony stark AU

Summary: As a journalist, Steve Rogers is expected to write articles on a great many number of things. He didn’t realise that could include his ex boyfriend.

12. Civil War AU

Summary: everything’s the same except: (1) Steve and Tony are dating, (2) Steve doesn’t know Tony is Iron Man

13. stevetony lucifer AU

Summary: Tony is tired of being the Devil, tired of following Howard’s order, tired of all the bullshit that comes with divinity. Malibu isn’t great but its a refreshing change of pace, a nice break from the screaming and the pain. And then he meets Detective Steve Rogers and Malibu suddenly has a lot more to offer.

Note: this AU was started by @imposter-human and all credits for it rightfully go to her. i just piggybacked onto it and added a couple of my own thoughts, but this AU is hers.

rhodeytony

1. Dostana AU

Summary: Rhodey and Tony desperately need a new apartment, and there’s a brilliant one that’s close to where they both work. There’s only catch though, the landlord, Pepper (who is stunning) only accepts applications from couples. After a night drowning their sorrows in the local bar, they come up with the brilliant idea to pose as a gay couple for the apartment. They move in, and come up with increasingly stupid ways to impress their new landlord without exposing that their marriage is a shamNeither bestfriend likes to lose, and both of them have their eyes set on one person: Pepper (or do they?)

2. rajput tony stark AU

Summary: desi AU. Toni Stark comes from a long line of rajput royalty. (this au has been genderbent since the original post)

3. civil war rhodeytony AU

Summary: civil war scenes re-imagined with an established rhodeytony and a past stevetonyrhodey otv.

4. me and my bestfriend but make it rhodeytony

Summary: memories of me and LRP but re-imagined as Tony and Rhodey

5. meri pyaari bindu AU

Summary: To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.

6. doctor who AU

Summary: Doctor! Tony Stark x River Song! fem James Rhodes

7. female tony AU

Summary: Tony doesn’t like Rhodey’s new girlfriend. (he’s still trying to figure out why)

stevebuckytony

1. stephanie rogers AU

Summary: Steph Rogers was never supposed to find herself on the frontlines of World War 2. Then again, she wasn’t supposed to do a lot of things. - the mcu re-imagined with genderbent Steve. eventual stevetonybucky otv

2. on your knees AU

Summary: dom/sub AU. Tony is relearning what it means to be alive in a world where he’s not in the clutches of HYDRA, and misinterprets a scene between dom! Steve and sub! Bucky

samtonybucky

1. president tony stark AU

Summary: Tony Stark is sworn in at the 46th President of the United States. Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes are assigned to his detail.

buckytonynat

1. the Carbonell Family AU

Summary: Anthony Carbonell is the patriarch of the Italian Mafia, Natasha and James are his bodyguards (and lovers). Steve Rogers is the FBI agent who’s vowed to bring him down.

clarktony (superiron)

1. bound by blood AU

Summary: when Clark’s parents die, Howard Stark takes him in. Desperate to recreate the serum by any means necessary he starts experimenting on both his new foster child, and his own flesh and blood son in an attempt to create the next supersoldier. Years later, Clark has broken free of Howard and is now Superman; but he and Tony are connected in ways he couldn’t even begin to understand

gen

1. morgan stark’s villain origin story AU

Summary: Morgan Stark isn’t a normal girl. It might have something to do with the death of her father.

2. blind tony stark AU

Summary: Tony loses his sight when he’s 15 after a kidnapping gone wrong.

3. desi! tony stark AU

Summary: just a link to all pieces that have desi! tony stark in them.

4. slytherin! tony stark AU

Summary: just a link to all pieces that have slytherin! tony stark in them.

5. AU-gust 2020

Summary: a masterlist to all the AUs i did for AU-gust, spanning various ships and fandoms

6. sins of the father AU

Summary: Harley has always known who his birth father is. It just never occurred to him, that his birth father might not know who his son is. im3 compliant. slightly aged up harley keener (he’s in highschool not middle school)

#my writing #au masterlist #this genuinely took ages to compile so please appreciate this #and give my aus some love #making this made me realise how many AUs that i have to update or extrapolate #some of these AUs will probably never be revisited #but who knows maybe if someone shows interest in a dead AU #i might find inspiration to add to it

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

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Flatbush & Atlantic: part iv

And here’s part iv! I’d love it if y’all would reblog, this is a work I’m really proud of and the more people it’s shared with the better! My inbox is always open, and I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if it’s just “AAAAAH.” Enjoy!

part i part ii part iii

part iv

December 12

Cass grimaced, looking over at the tab on her laptop that had the Islanders game open. They were down 3-1 late in the third, and it didn’t look like they were going to be able to pull it off. It was the last game of a ten day roadie, and they had lost all but one against the Red Wings right at the beginning. And the Wings were 10-21, so it wasn’t even a confidence booster. To make matters worse, Mat was on a points drought; he hadn’t gotten an assist, let alone scored, since the first game of the trip, a 4-1 loss to the Blue Jackets. They also were playing a few players down, an MCL sprain and the ever-vague “lower body injury” kept the team from being at full strength.

As the game came to a close, she didn’t even know if Mat wanted to talk to her. His relentless dedication was one of her favorite things about him, but it also led him to take things way too personally and be way too hard on himself even when — especially when — the situation didn’t call for it. He was probably beating himself up as the boys headed back into the locker room, being short with his teammates and trainers and whatever poor sports reporter had been sent to ask “how they planned on snapping this unfortunate streak” in the post-game interviews. He’d never be deliberately mean or unkind to anyone, but just like anyone, her boyfriend got stressed and overwhelmed and didn’t always know how to deal with it. I saw the game, she texted him, I’m proud of you. Call me if you want.

Dec. 15 (wed)

Mat had barely spoken to her since the return from the roadie, and it was starting to get on her nerves. Texts were responded with single words, if they were answered at all. They were supposed to have visited the Met yesterday , but that hadn’t happened either. He had cancelled, saying that “some team thing came up” and he wouldn’t be able to make it. Barely apologized. And what pissed Cass of more than almost anything was that she wanted to help, she wanted so badly for him to just talk to her, she wouldn’t judge him or make him feel like he was a shitty player or a shitty person, but she couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even picking up her damn calls. Who do you talk to when there’s almost nobody in the world who understands the position you’re in?

Maybe that was just it. She’d go to the people who did understand. Paige had added her to the WAGs Whatsapp group the week prior, and from everything she had gathered so far, it was exactly the sort of place to go for advice. Cass pulled up the chat, torn between not wanting to seem like she was oversharing but not really sure what else she could do. Hey, guys, she started. Mat’s been taking the losing streak pretty personally (as I’m sure a lot of your guys are) and seems to be pulling away. Any advice? I don’t want to push him but I know it’ll get worse if he just keeps it all bottled inside. Clicking send, Cass sighed, leaning back in her desk chair and trying desperately to study for her Environmental Law final.

At some point after midnight, she closed her books and laptop with frustration. The test wasn’t until next week, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to study as distracted as she was. She grabbed her phone, heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth and check the group chat. No fewer than six of the women had written back, some of whom she hadn’t even met, with long, sympathetic paragraphs overflowing with advice. She read them all, touched by the time, effort, and care that everyone has put into making her feel just a little less anxious. But the overwhelming message was clear. Find balance, but don’t let him blow you off. Be a support system, but you’re not his therapist. And repeated again and again, Talk to him.

She tapped out a message before she turned her bedside lamp off, hoping that with morning would finally come a proper response from Mat. Can we meet for coffee tomorrow morning? You know as well as I do that we need to talk. I’ll be at Donahue’s at 8.

Read: 12:23 AM

Dec. 16 (thurs)

Her foot tapped nervously, hands clasped tightly around the cup in front of her and beanie pulled over her head, curls poking out from under. He had read the text, but Cass had no clue if Mat was actually going to show up or not. He hadn’t responded. It was ten past eight, and Cass was just about ready to give up and head to school early. She had just put her laptop back in her bag when she caught Mat out of the corner of her eye. He gave her a small smile, equal parts nervous and almost — bothered? “Hey,” he said softly, unzipping his puffer coat and sliding into the chair opposite her. “You said you wanted to talk?”

Suddenly, the whole elaborate speech Cass had prepared, about letting her in and supporting him and communication, left her mind. “Yeah.”

“So, talk,” Mat said, with a slight edge to his voice.

She looked down at her cup. “I get that you’re disappointed about the losing streak. I get it and I’m sorry that you’re not doing as well as you hoped —”

“I don’t think you do get it, Cassidy —”

She cut him off. “Let me finish, Mathew. I’m sorry that you’re not doing as well as you hoped, and I do get how shitty it is when you know you’re putting in the time and effort and practice and it doesn’t seem like anything’s working, but you’ve barely talked to be about any of it.”

“‘Cause I don’t want to,” Mat mumbled.

Cass leaned back in her chair. “And I get that. I get if you don’t want to talk to me. But you’re not talking to anyone. You’re not talking to Tito, I asked him and he said you’ve been just as closed-off with the team. You’re not talking to any of the other guys. And I’d bet you’re not talking to your parents or your sister either.”

No one gets it!” Mat said in frustration, a little louder than was necessary. “I go through so much shit and have so much pressure on me and…” He trailed off for a minute. “I don’t want to disappoint the team, I don’t want to disappoint the fans. I don’t want to disappoint my family. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Everyone had their ups and downs,” Cass started.

“And I get that,” Mat said, holding his head in his hands and looking down at her coffee cup. The same white-and-blue one he had gotten her two months earlier. “But it’s hard. It’s hard when I’m feeling like the fans aren’t getting what they deserve when they come to games, and like I’m not worth what they’re paying me right now. I know you want to, but you don’t get it.”

Cass looked away, turning her eyes to the street. The sidewalk was dusted in white, turning to slush every time someone walked past. It was the first snow of the year. “Then help me to.”

He breathed out, finally relaxing a little. “It’s not that easy.”

“I want to help you,” Cass said, leaning over the table and clasping his hands in hers. “But you can’t keep freezing me out like this, chou. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.”

Mat closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t want this to become your thing too. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I know right now kind of sucks for me but that’s just how it is sometimes, you know? It’s just how it is and I have to get over it. I have to get over myself.”

“Mat, your well-being and mental health isn’t something you can just ‘get over.’ Or even something you should. I’m not a professional, and if you need one that’s something we can find,” Mat wrinkled his face, and Cass was pointedly reminded how often men’s mental health was ignored, “but I’m here for you to talk to. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

He ran his thumb over her hand. “But you didn’t sign up for this.”

Cas shook her head. “Mathew Barzal. This is exactly what I signed up for. I’m pretty smart,” he cracked a smile, “and I knew what I was getting myself into. Dating someone with such an unconventional job and schedule can be stressful, and frustrating, and confusing for everyone involved. But I chose it, Mat. I chose you.”

Dec. 21 (mon)

For once, Cass wasn’t headed straight home after work, or headed to a game, or — God forbid — back to the library to study. Her last final had been that morning, and she was free for three blessed weeks until the New Year. Which meant that she didn’t have to worry about turning in another essay or memorizing another case, which meant that she was more than free to go to the team Christmas party with Mat later that night. He had somehow been coerced into hosting, and Cass had promised to get to his apartment early to help set up. He was mostly done by the time she got there, so “setting up” turned out to mean setting up the bar and putting out snacks, Cass mixing up an enormous pitcher of her favorite sangria, a signature standby from her sorority’s Wine Wednesdays.

Mat had even put up a proper Christmas tree, and Cass smiled at the piney scent as she headed down the hallway, bag in hand. “Cool if I change in your room?” She shouted down the hall at Mat, who was currently engrossed in pouring a bowl full of chocolate-covered pretzels. “Yeah, go for it,” he called back. Cass didn’t have a lot of excuses to dress up, but liked taking advantage when the occasion called for it. Her dress was short, red satin with a slit on one side and silver embellishment on the other. She used his bathroom to touch up her makeup, swiping her burgundy lipstick on and double-checking her brows. Cass shoved her work clothes back into her backpack, tossing it onto the plush armchair in the corner of his room.

She walked down the hallway, which was pretty much bare save for a few pictures of his friends from home and one with his family on the day he was drafted. She was kind of surprised that Mat owned a single picture frame. Cass sat on the couch in his living room, looking at the Christmas tree. There were one or two Islanders ornaments, a paper Santa that she assumed had been a kindergarten art project, a photo of his family around the fireplace that looked like it had been taken a year or two earlier. Mat wrapped his arms around her, hugging her from behind. “Whatcha looking at, babe?”

She smiled. “Your ornaments. They’re really pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

The door rang, Mat kissing her quickly before walking across the room to open it. A group of the younger players piled in, mostly rookies and call-ups from Bridgeport. One of them had brought along a keg of beer, and Cass had to fight back a laugh while showing him to the kitchen and setting it on the counter. He was just out of college, she’d stake her life on it. By the time she’d secured the keg and started getting people set up with drinks, the living room had started to fill up. “What can I get you?” She asked Paige, who had left Tito with the boys by the tree and made her way over to Cass.

“What are my chances of getting a Moscow mule?” Paige asked. “I don’t want to be a difficult guest, but,”

“Very good,” Cass said, turning around and grabbing the vodka and ginger ale. “We don’t have the proper mugs though, so don’t be complaining.” One shot of vodka. Half a can of ginger ale. Squeeze a lime. She had bartended for a little over a year when she first moved to New York, and it was still one of her favorite things to do for friends. Mixing herself a whiskey sour, Cass wandered back over to Mat and Tito.

---

It was well past eleven and the party was nowhere near stopping. While everyone was conscious of the noise level — for the most part, she had seen a few of the guys being reminded to use their inside voices — the conversations were still going and the drinks were still flowing. Cass had passed the tipsy point somewhere around 10:30, though she was nowhere near as hammered as some of the team. Or their dates, for that matter. She was cuddled up against Mat on the couch, heels long having since been abandoned and nursing what she was pretty sure was a vodka sprite with way too much vodka and way too little sprite. Whatever, Cass thought ruefully as she tipped the last of it back. It gets the job done.

Mat was a touchy drunk, Cass had learned, and one hand seemed to have taken up permanent residence at her waist while he sipped a beer with the other. “What do you think Christmas will be like for you?” Cass asked softly, tilting up her head to look at him. “Since you won’t be with your family.” Mat knew it was a possibility, but he was still pretty upset when he looked at the schedule and realized that his family wasn’t going to be able to fly out to spend the holidays with him, and he didn’t have enough time to go back out to Vancouver.

Her parents had extended the invitation for Mat to spend Christmas with them when she had been back up for Thanksgiving; he couldn’t make Christmas Day, but was able to carve out two days to visit. He smiled at her, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “You’re cute when you’re worried, y’know that?” Cass scrunched up her nose. “It’s not like I’m going to be alone. I’m doing Christmas with Beau, since Paige’ll be out of town too, and some of the guys usually plan a nice dinner thing for anyone who’s not with family.”

“That sounds nice,” Cass noted, still feeling a pang of guilt.

“Hey,” Mat said, noticing her distraction. He sat up, turning her face to look towards him. “I’ll be fine. I’m a grown-ass man.”

Cass cocked an eyebrow. “Sure about that?”

Mat giggled. “Okay, okay, fine. Point taken. But yeah, it would be nice to have my family, but I kind of do, y’know?” He said, nodding around to the guys. Cass could have sworn that in that moment, her heart melted. “And I want you to spend time with yours. I’d be kind of a shitty boyfriend if I didn’t want you to.” Mat leaned in, and his lips brushed against hers so that they were almost touching but not quite, hesitantly. Cass pressed against him, her fingers finding purchase in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. She loved that he was letting his hair grow out. He tasted like whiskey and tequila and some cheap beer that she was pretty sure was Natty Light, but she couldn’t have cared less, just like she ignored the not-so-subtle wolf-whistles from the teammates.

Everyone started clearing out around midnight, a few staying to help stuff cans and bottles into trash bags that were left unceremoniously in the kitchen to be dealt with the next morning. Cass yawned, rubbing her eyes. She had sobered up some, but was still well past the legal limit. “Whatcha doing?” Mat asked, seeing her about to order an Uber.

“Calling a ride?” Cass questioned.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Mat asked haltingly. “If you want.” Cass had obviously been over to his place before, multiple times, but hadn’t stayed the night yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, because she did, but it was something that was a big step for her. That meant a lot to her. But it was late, and she was sleepy, and Mat did make a really good pillow. “Okay,” she conceded.

Mat smiled, taking her hand and leading her back to his bedroom. He rummaged through his dresser, grabbing an old Thunderbirds t-shirt and athletic shorts and handing them to her as she walked into his ensuite. “I don’t have stuff to get your makeup off, but there is soap?” He offered.

Cass laughed. “I brought some wipes, but thank you. That’s really sweet.” She changed and took her makeup off, finding a spare toothbrush in one of the drawers and brushing her teeth. She popped out after a few minutes. Mat was already changed, dressed in pyjama pants and a comfy-looking heathered grey top. “The red toothbrush is mine now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, cracking a smile. A few minutes later, she had claimed the left side of the bed and he had come back from the bathroom. They were lazily kissing, Mat’s hand just barely brushing the skin on her waist from where the shirt had ridden up. Cass was still tipsy and she knew Mat wouldn’t try anything, not like this, but God, it was nice just to feel close to him. After a few minutes he pulled back, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of the loose messy bun she had thrown together. “What’s running through your head, babe?” He murmured.

Cass looked down, biting her lip. She was usually good with emotions, good with communication, but something about Mat made her heart skip a beat and brain go into overdrive all at once, and somehow she was convinced that it was the best feeling in the world. “I’m just really happy right now,” she breathed. “It’s Christmas, with our friends, and you...It’s everything I could want.”

Mat gave the softest smile. “You, with me, right now? That’s all I could want, Cass.”

Dec 22. (wed)

Cass zipped her suitcase shut, double-checking that she had everything she’d need for her two weeks in Connecticut. It wasn’t a big deal if she forgot something, there was probably some stuff left in her old dresser, and her little sister Eliana was about the same size. Mat had just texted that he was almost there. Cass grabbed her backpack and suitcase, stopping for a moment to pop out the final few chocolates on the Advent calendar her mom had sent down. She closed her bedroom door, wishing a harried goodbye to Ryanne and Stella, and ambled down the stairs as fast as her bags would allow her. She didn’t want Mat to have to double-park and risk getting a ticket.

True to his word, Mat was just pulling up when she came out of the building, waving one hand and double-checking the street was clear before flipping his hazards on and hopping out to help her put her bags in the trunk. Kissing him on the cheek in thanks, Cass slid into the passenger’s side, giving Mat a very pointed look when she saw that the first song on his playlist was Justin Bieber. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbled, blushing.

“Who said I’m making fun of you?” Cass said lightly, trying and failing to hide her smile.

They had decided that Mat would make the drive, since he was only staying two nights they had figured it would make more sense. The directions had been plugged into the Bluetooth system, and they had just made it out of the city when Mat looked over at the passenger’s seat, furrowing his brow when he saw Cass’s expression. Something was bothering her. “What’s up, babe?”

She bit her lip. “Nothing.”

“C’mon, we both decided we weren’t going to do this anymore. You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I think you want to talk.”

Cass looked down at her lap. “I got a letter from the company that’s handling my student loans.”

“I thought you didn’t have any debt?” Mat asked quizzically.

She let out a single, humorless laugh. “That was for undergrad, and that was only because I was really, really lucky. I got some money from the school and I worked some, but that only covered about half of my costs? A little less?”

“Which leaves you with how much?”

“A hundred and ten thousand dollars, give or take. They were sending me the payment schedule, I have to start paying it back late next year.”

Mat breathed out. He knew that Cass didn’t come from money, but being from Canada and not having gone to college himself, he wasn’t really aware of just how debilitating student debt could get. “Do your parents know?” He asked gently.

Cass picked at a loose thread on her scarf. “Yeah. They helped as much as they could, but there’s three of us and they’re not made of money. “I, uh,” she paused briefly, “I told you I went to private school, yeah?” Mat nodded. “Catholic school doesn’t come cheap, so I was actually on work-study at my high school, which helped a lot. But I hated it.”

“Your school?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “No, I loved my school. It was great. I just hated feeling like a charity case. My school’s in a pretty well-off neighborhood, so most of the families there had money, and some were like proper ‘old money’ New Englanders. I had some great friends and nobody ever really outwardly was an ass about it if they knew, but still…” She trailed off.

“You felt like you never quite fit in.” Mat finished.

She nodded. “It was hard and it sucked sometimes, but that’s just how it is, I guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Two hours later, Mat pulled into Manchester, following Cass’s directions down the winding roads and corners of her hometown. “Do you think they’ll like me?” He asked nervously, eyes flitting between Cass and the road in front of him.

Her brow furrowed. “Who? My family?” Mat nodded. “My family’s going to love you. You’re kind and you treat me with respect. That’s all they’ve ever wanted for me. And my brother already worships the ground you walk on, practically,” she added with a smile.

“He’s a junior, yeah?”

“Mhm,” she responded. Cass’s younger brother Noah was a junior in high school, and one of the best players on his club hockey team. Hockey didn’t run cheap and he had been lifeguarding the past few summers to pay for it, but it was all starting to pay off and he was having some interest shown by college scouts.

Mat pulled up beside the curb in front of her house, killing the engine and shoving the keys back into his pocket. Cass popped the trunk and took her backpack, while Mat got his duffel and her suitcase. She reached for his hand as they walked up the driveway, giving it a reassuring squeeze as she rang the doorbell.

“Cass!” Eliana squealed, hugging as much of her sister as she could manage around the bags. “Put your bags by the door, Dad’s grilling out back and I think Mom’s making your bed.” Mat had had an afternoon game and the two had left not long after, so it was dinnertime and Cass was ravenous. “Grilling in December?” She questioned.

Eliana shrugged, closing the door behind them. “You know Patrick, you go be the one to tell the man he can’t make burgers in the winter.” She turned to Mat, also greeting him with a hug. “You must be Mat, Cass talks about you a lot.”

Cass swatted her. “El!”

Mat chuckled. “Yeah. Mat Barzal, nice to meet you. Good things, I hope?”

“Only the best,” Eliana said, leading them through to the back porch, where her dad was grilling on the patio while Noah was doing sprints up and down the lawn. He almost fell when he spotted Cass and Mat, causing Mat to have to hide a laugh behind his hand. Her dad turned around, setting the spatula down when he saw them. Mat swallowed, sticking out his hand for a shake. “Mat Barzal, sir.”

“Call me Patrick. Good to meet you Mat, go get settled and we should have dinner ready in a few, okay?” Mat nodded. “Noah, pick your jaw up off the floor and go help them with their things, okay?” Noah ducked his head, brushing the dirt off his shorts before jogging over to where Mat and his sisters were on the porch.

“Do I hear my Cassidy?” Cass could hear her mom inside, walking down the hallway with Noah and Mat before she ran into her by her old bedroom. “It’s me, Mom!” Cass said excitedly, hugging her mom. Mat initially went for another handshake, but she shooed it away, embracing him. “We’re huggers in this family,” she said by way of explanation, pulling away after a moment. “Ysabel Cabrera, so nice to finally meet you, Mat.”

Mat smiled. “It’s great to finally meet you too.”

Ysabel pointed down the hall. “Noah’s got bunk beds, so you’ll be with him in there, it’s the last door on the left. Cass, I trust you still can find your room.”

“Yes, mamá,” Cass said, rolling her eyes. “See you in a few, chou.” He kissed her on the cheek, under the watchful eye of her mom, and followed Noah down the hall.

---

Two hour later, Mat and Cass were cuddled together on the living room couch, his arm slung around her as they half-watched reruns of Parks & Rec. “D’you just want to do presents now?” He asked, looking down at her. “Because I know we’ve got plans tomorrow, and I don’t see how it really matters if we’re not going to be together Christmas Day.”

Cass looked up. “Uh, sure, if you want?”

“Meet you back in a minute,” Mat said, hopping off of the couch and disappearing down the hall. Cass rolled her eyes, walking into her room, grabbing the envelope, and returning to the living room. Mat got up when she entered, proudly handing her a surprisingly well-wrapped present.

“You look very pleased with your work,” Cass noted, laughing.

“I watched a Youtube tutorial,” Mat admitted, “but did you know that there’s so much that goes into folding neat corners? It’s practically an art!”

“I’ll take you word for it,” Cass said, handing him his envelope. “Open yours first.”

Mat sat back down, running his thumb through the flap and pulling out a coupon. He looked at it quizzically for a minute. “Beer delivery?”

“Craft beer delivery,” Cass corrected pointedly. “Because I don’t want you to have to resort to Natty Light ever again. I saw your fridge, it’s actually the worst. You need taste, babe.” Mat snorted. “And they deliver to Canada, so you don’t have to worry about missing out on the offseason.”

“I love it, pretty girl,” Mat said, kissing her. “Now open yours.” Cass carefully popped the corners open, unfolding the wrapping paper. My Beloved World - Sonia Sotomayor. “You said once that you really admire her, and I didn’t see it on your bookshelf, so I thought you’d like it.”

“I do, I love it. I love that you remembered even more,” Cass added.

But Mat wasn’t done. “Open it,” he said expectantly.

Confused though she was, Cass opened the cover of the book. “It’s...signed? She said softly, reverently tracing her fingers over the inscription.

“Yeah.” Mat went on, explaining, “I found it in this little bookstore in Brooklyn, and knew I had to get it for you. Knew what it would mean to you.”

“It’s incredible. You’re incredible. I can’t believe you’d do something like that for me.”

Their foreheads touched. “Why wouldn’t I?” Mat whispered. “It’s for you.”

And in that moment, there was nothing anyone could do to take away how happy that made her feel. How happy he made her feel.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #nhl imagine #mat barzal imagine #hockey smut #mat barzal #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl imagines #nhl fluff #hockey imagines #hockey fluff #islanders imagines #islanders writing #new york islanders #islanders

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

Text

Catch Me If You Can (30/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I am not a fan of the fact that there are only 10 chapters left. Like, not at all. Where did all of this time go? How are we at this point in the story? I feel like I was just writing it!

Anyway, it seems fitting that this chapter posts in a week where a lot of us have gone home to see family because Killian is going home with Emma to meet Ruth😘 Thanks to you all for being you and thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading these words for me and checking my facts!

Found on AO3: beginning | current

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-/-

“Did you know that it’s Friday the thirteenth and a full moon?”

“Thank you, Alec Trebek.”

“No, seriously. That’s what it says on my phone.”

“Love, I know the date.”

“But did you know about the moon thing?”

“I did,” Killian sighs, picking his suitcase up off of the security belt and placing it on the ground while Emma grabs her sneakers. “I read about it the other day, and I am prepared for all of the haunted werewolves to come out to play.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs before she plops herself down on a bench to tie her shoes.

It’s a little past four thirty in the morning, and JFK is nearly empty of anyone who isn’t traveling in some kind of suit. He and Emma are surrounded by people in black blazers and tailored trousers only traveling with a sleek black suitcase and their briefcase. He and Emma, meanwhile, are both in joggers with t-shirts on (Emma has on his Vandy sweatshirt over hers) and their hair tucked underneath baseball caps.

Emma got in from Detroit late last night, only taking five minutes to kiss him hello and take a quick shower before collapsing on his bed on top of the covers. The only flight they could get so last minute that wasn’t an exuberant amount of money is at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, so Killian insisted that she just stay at his place last night so that they could leave from the same place and save time. Considering they woke up ten minutes before their Uber arrived and could barely brush their teeth before they left, that didn’t exactly work in the whole saving time department.

It doesn’t help that Emma has pretty much been deadweight this entire morning until she started to wake up right before they went through security.

He, on the other hand, is wide awake. Nervous jitters run through his body, his stomach twisting in knots, and for someone who doesn’t get nervous for many things other than baseball, Killian is pretty much a wreck when it comes to meeting Emma’s family. Ruth is the last one, the final piece of the puzzle, and as intimidating as David was to meet, his mother might outrank her.

Killian both wants to spend the entire weekend sucking up to her and thanking her for taking Emma in and giving her the love she’s never had but has always deserved, but that could prove to be a bit much.

Then again, if Ruth hadn’t taken Emma in thirteen years ago, Emma would have never met David. If Emma hadn’t met David, David would have never taken her to the baseball game that truly allowed Emma to fall in love with sports. And if Emma hadn’t done that, he doubts she’d have ever gotten into broadcasting and found her passion there that makes her so damn happy.

The two of them also would never have met, and that thought sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s funny how such little things can change absolutely everything.

Everything.

So, yeah, Killian is most definitely a little nervous to meet Ruth.

“You want to go find some coffee, Swan?” Killian asks Emma as he props his foot up to tie his own sneaker. “I think the two of us are in some desperate need of caffeine.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll be able to find a coffee shop in an airport. There are never any coffee places here.”

“I don’t appreciate all of this sarcasm so early this morning.”

She pokes his stomach. “You’re the one who woke me up.”

“We’re going home to meet your family.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“You should.”

“Well,” Emma huffs, standing up and pulling up her pants so that he sees a flash of tanned skin on her stomach, “you should. Onto coffee we go.”

They both grab onto their bags and start walking down the terminal, passing gate after gate and store after store, but everything is black with the lights turned off and bars pulled over the stores. Nothing is open, not even the convenience stores, and the moment Emma realizes this, she stops walking and buries her face in his shoulder.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“There are vending machines,” he soothes. “I think they have coffee.”

“But it’s gross coffee,” she wines before wrapping her arms around his stomach. At first, Killian thinks that she’s being affectionate, but then he realizes that she’s using him so that she doesn’t have to stand on her own. He’s not sure he minds either way. “I need real coffee, and I need it in an IV.”

“Okay, Lorelai Gilmore.”

Emma laughs into his shoulder, the vibrations working through his shoulder. “You’re learning. I’m so proud, babe.”

“I might have watched an episode or two.”

Emma’s head pops up then, the bill of her cap hitting him in the chin. “When?”

“While you were gone. It was on Netflix, and it just kind of happened.”

“Good choice, twenty-nine. Good choice.” Emma’s lips brush against the corner of his jaw, and he tugs her a little closer as his hand runs up and down her back while she presses up on her toes to make contact with his lips. “I need a diet coke or something, and then when the stores open, I’m buying the biggest damn cup of coffee in this entire airport.”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

-/-

The flight is only an hour and a half, Emma sleeps the entire time despite them getting her the biggest damn cup of coffee in the airport right before they boarded, and Killian spends his time answering emails before closing out the app so that he won’t see anything else work-related for this entire weekend. It’s a conscious decision, one he’s happy to make, and it’s almost refreshing to know that he doesn’t have anything to worry about for at least a few days.

Well, anything to worry about except for Ruth Nolan and making sure that he can impress her.

-/-

The taxi they get from the airport takes them directly to Ruth’s house, so Emma doesn’t get much time to show him around, only pointing out a few landmarks. They pass the minor league baseball stadium here, the Portland Sea Dogs, and Emma tells him that she’s never actually been despite having such easy access. She was too caught up in everything having to do with New York and getting there that she never really thought about it. He teases her and tells her they’ll have to go to a game, but Emma turns him down by saying that she needs a break from baseball.

He does too.

So that’ll probably be knocked off the itinerary that Killian is sure Mary Margaret has made. Luckily, though, she and David won’t be here until early evening since they both had to be at work and school for half a day, so they’re pretty much free to do whatever they want with Ruth today.

He’s still slightly reeling from his injury and their fight and everything that came from that. He’s not angry or upset, but this is all still such an adjustment. He should be playing. He shouldn’t be here, but it’s his own damn fault that he is. He screwed up on so many levels, and owning up to it all has been a tough pill to swallow.

Hurting the people he loved nearly killed him, and he doesn’t want anyone to hurt because of him ever again.

In the blink of a bleary eye, they’re pulling up to a quaint two-story Victorian home with brown and white details and bright green bushes lining the brick-paved walkway to the front door. It’s a home, undoubtedly, one much the same as all of the ones in the city and yet entirely different in that he can see vibrant green grass and flushed trees that spread out all over the neighborhood. It reminds him of growing up in Ohio, even if they were not the ones to have the spaciously fenced-in backyard, and a little fluttering of his heart takes place as Killian takes it all in.

He’s always kind of wanted a place like this – away from everything.

“So, this is the place?”

“This is the place.”

“It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought so.” Emma hikes her bag up a little higher on her shoulder and turns to look at him, trepidation written across her face. “We can still turn around if you want to. There are hotels around here.”

“We’re going inside, love.” He leans down and quickly brushes his lips over hers. She tastes strongly of coffee just from the little taste that he got. He’d like to kiss her more, to have the privacy of the hotel so he can show her just how much he’s missed her the past few days of her being gone, but they’re not doing that. “Besides, I believe I just saw Ruth peeking her head through the window looking at us, so it’s too late to turn around now.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I guess it is.”

Emma steps forward and begins moving up the path, Killian following right behind her, and Emma barely gets a chance to knock on the door before it’s swinging open and Ruth is lunging forward to practically smother Emma with a hug.

Damn. Ruth Nolan is a force of nature.

Then again, she was already for being a single mom most of her life and still taking in foster children, especially one as stubborn as Emma. He can’t even begin to imagine.

He fully intends on finding out this weekend. There are a million questions running around in his mind.

“Oh,” Ruth coos, shaking Emma in her embrace. A dog escapes the front door and comes to sniff at Killian’s feet. This must be Wilby. “I have missed you so much. I think I’m going to have to move to New York so I can see you more often. Do you have room in that apartment of yours?”

“Only if the couch is comfortable for you.”

“I think it may kill my back.”

“No, it’ll definitely kill your back. I have no doubt. It kills my back. Killian’s couch is super comfortable, though.”

“Well, I hardly know the man. I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to sleep over in his apartment.”

“Who cares about proper, love?” Killian teases. “I would be remiss to not let a beautiful woman sleep over at my apartment.”

The words slip out of his mouth before he’s able to stop them, and he immediately regrets them. Ruth may not be Emma’s mom, the title something that Emma still struggles with no matter how much she loves Ruth, but she’s very much a mother figure. Yet here he is spewing words that pretty much scream in her face that he doesn’t care about proper and has been fucking Emma for months now. What a smooth start.

The pit in his stomach becomes a heavy, solid weight, one that’s going to have him breaking the wood of the wraparound front porch.

Shit.

But then Ruth is leaning her head back in laughter, her eyes shining brightly as her hair falls off of her shoulders, and that weight lessens a little bit.

“I’m not much of one for proper either,” Ruth says with laughter still on her lips. She releases Emma and steps toward him, wrapping him in a hug as well, even if this one isn’t quite as smothering. It likely helps that he’s larger than Emma. “Hello, sweetie. SoSo, you’re the infamous Killian Jones I’ve been hearing about?”

“From Emma?”

“No, my grandson. He loves you. I think he was probably more devastated about your arm than Emma was.”

“How did you know I was devastated?”

Ruth pulls back from him to look at Emma. “Intuition told me that you’d be upset over the fact that your boyfriend is injured. Mary Margaret gave me all of the other details.”

Emma’s eyes roll. “Of course she did.”

“You know she can’t keep a secret.”

Killian looks over to Emma to see what she’s got to say, thinking that this first meeting is going rather smoothly, but then Ruth’s eyes are snapping back to him and looking him up and down in a way that has him feeling rather naked under her scrutiny.

Obviously, it was wishful thinking for him to assume he was quite out of the woods.

“You’re much more handsome in person than on TV.”

“Thanks,” Killian laughs awkwardly as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I, uh, appreciate that.”

Emma looks over to him with raised brows that are pinched together, probably wondering when he turned into a stumbling fool instead of someone who can charm anyone, and all he can do is shrug is shoulders at her. She shrugs back before squatting down on the porch to scratch behind the dog’s ears.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet, Ruth?” Emma asks, obviously trying to save him. “We’ve had coffee but not food, and we’d love to take you out to breakfast.”

Ruth waves her away. “Nonsense. I’ll cook breakfast for all of us.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Mrs. Nolan.”

She smiles at him. “It’s Ruth, and yes I do. I hear you’re quite the baker, so you can help.”

“Well, who told you that?”

“Mary Margaret. She’s where I get all of my information, don’t you know? Emma and David don’t give me nearly enough.”

“You know, Ruth,” Killian smiles, “I have heard a little bit about the two of them not sharing a lot of information. You practically have to drag it out of them. I would never do such a thing as keeping secrets.”

Emma scoffs but there’s that loving, playful smile. “Too soon, twenty-nine. Too soon.”

Ruth guides them inside and sends Emma off to take their bags to her old room. Killian raises his brow in question to make sure it’s okay for them to share a room, and Emma simply rolls her eyes before taking both of their bags up the stairs while Ruth ushers him into the living room.

It’s just as homey as the outside. Everything is covered in warm colors from the deep brown of the leather couch to the inviting green of the wall. Two windows sit on either side of the stone fireplace where the television is mounted, and that’s when Killian spots the myriad of picture frames on the mantel, as well as on the bookshelf in the corner of the room.

This is exactly what he’s been so excited about.

(Besides getting to spend a weekend away with Emma where she spent the last of her teenager years.)

There are a few photos of David as a child, ones of him alone and then ones of him with both of his parents. Most of them, however, everyone is a tad bit older. Killian knows that it’s so Emma can be included in all of the photos, and his heart swells a bit at the thought of Ruth being that thoughtful so that Emma doesn’t have to feel left out in any way.

A picture of David, Mary Margaret, and Emma sits in the middle of the mantle. David and Mary Margaret look much the same, if not younger than they look now, but with different hairstyles. Killian makes a mental note to tease David about his shoulder-length hair. Emma, though, is definitely a teenager here. Her face is rounder, far less angled, and he can see the tepidness of her smile as she leans into David in the picture.

“Are you looking at how cute I am?” Emma questions as she walks into the room.

Killian turns to look at her and at the shy smile on her face now, and he opens up his arm to let her walk into him so that her arm can wrap around his back while her head rests on his shoulder.

“How old are you here, love?”

“Um, that’s a question I don’t know the answer to.”

“Sixteen,” Ruth supplies, and Killian doesn’t miss the way she’s smiling at the two of them standing there. “That’s from Thanksgiving. Emma still wasn’t too sure about us.”

“I’m still not.”

Killian squeezes her hip. “Liar.”

“Nope, I’m serious. You’ve only just met Ruth, so I don’t think you can judge her character yet.”

“Oh no, darling, I can. She’s promised to tell me stories about you while we cook breakfast, and that’s good enough for me to love her forever.”

Emma groans and dips her head down. “Just let me sulk, and I’ll come to the kitchen when breakfast is ready.”

“Just like when you were a teenager,” Ruth teases.

The morning is mostly spent in the kitchen where they eat waffles and bacon, which is definitely not on his diet but he’s not playing right now anyways, and he gets to listen to Ruth tease Emma all about what she was like as a teenager. Emma’s cheeks are painted red, the embarrassment very clearly there, but she takes it like a champ and smiles and laughs along even when Ruth tells a story about Emma nearly breaking her arm while trying to sneak back into the house after meeting a guy who she wasn’t supposed to be meeting.

“Not my finest moment,” Emma admits as she bites into a piece of bacon. “And definitely not my finest boyfriend.”

The stories continue, and as the day passes on, Killian’s stomach hurts from all of the laughter. Everything about his time here just seems so…perfect. And he knows that there is no such thing as perfect, but the crisp breeze of the air with the sunshine filtering through the leaves of the trees tells him otherwise as the two of them help Ruth with some of her yardwork. Of course, he hasn’t done yardwork in over a decade, so he’s a little rusty. Ruth and Emma make sure to point that out to him every time he cuts a shrub in the wrong way or manages to screw up turning on the lawnmower.

It was complicated, okay?

And Killian definitely wasn’t aware that this is how they’d be spending the first part of their afternoon. It was not at all mentioned in Emma’s pitch of asking him to come here.

Not that he would have ever said no to helping. It’s good to feel useful when he’s been feeling a little useless lately no matter how well he thinks that he’s handling his injury layoff.

It’s decidedly different than the first time around. It likely helps that the injury isn’t as serious and that Killian knows that the end of it is in sight, even if there’s still bits of uncertainty that no one can answer and predict for him. Yet, it also has everything to do with the fact that the people closest to him know exactly what’s going on instead of him letting it all fester inside of him. Honesty is the better policy this time, even if his hand was the slightest bit forced.

Watching Emma easily guide him through Old Port with a beatific smile on her face may help as well.

No, it definitely helps.

She’s such a force of light in his life, even if she doesn’t like admitting that sometimes, but the fact almost seems reinforced after having been apart from her and facing the thoughts of what his life may be like without her in it outside of being someone who he works with.

Frankly, it would be kind of dim. She’s integrated herself so easily into every aspect of his daily routine, and while at first, he thought it really only had to do with her clothes in his closet and her shampoo bottles littering his shower, it’s more in the way that he’ll be sitting with Elsa and look over to see her texting Emma or the way that whenever he wakes up in the morning and she’s not in bed with him, his first thought is to check his phone for a text from her. It’s ridiculous and yet also…not.

She annoys him more than anything or anyone in the world, but he also loves her more than anything. It’s easy in a way that it’s never been before, and Killian wonders if this feeling of fluttering deep in his belly is what he was missing in the past.

They grab a late lunch at a quaint little seafood place, one he can tell is family-owned simply from the atmosphere, and instead of sitting inside, they settle down at one of the umbrella-covered tables outside so that they can have a view of the ocean with the salt-water breeze wafting over them.

He’s missed the water.

Of course, he’s been around it living in Manhattan and traveling to several places around the country that are surrounded by water. Hell, he’s even been back in it in the three years since the accident with Liam. But it’s been a long damn time since he’s sat and simply enjoyed getting to spend time near the water.

During the off-season, he and Emma are going somewhere that’s surrounded by water for at least a week, and they’re not going to let any outside distractions get to them. It’s making plans for the future, and that’s all that he wants right now.

(Some would call it baseball mating season, and while he doesn’t plan on them reproducing anytime soon, they can sure as hell practice.)

They get a call that David and Mary Margaret are nearly there when Emma is showing him some of the lighthouses while using a ridiculous voice that she calls her “tour guide” voice, so they quickly gather their things and start walking back to Ruth’s car since she absolutely cannot wait to see the rest of her family and refuses to have them be at her house before she can get back to her house.

David and Mary Margaret get there first because they are apparently the fastest drivers on the planet today.

And Leo practically tackles Ruth in all of his ten-year-old glory when he sees her.

That’s how Addy and Lucy are with Elsa’s parents too, and Killian imagines that being a grandparent is a hell of a lot of fun since you aren’t in charge of molding a little person into a functioning human being. You just have to give them candy and all of the things their parents don’t want them to have.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks Ruth does.

(That’s what he does as an uncle and wishes his mom could have done as a grandmother.)

They all eat takeout dinner together from an Italian place that Emma and David swear by, and while it’s certainly not the best thing he’s ever had to eat, it’s pretty damn good. Then again, he’s had so much to eat today that his stomach very well may explode soon. He’ll have to get up and go for a jog in the morning.

But right now, it’s a little past ten at night, he’s been up for over eighteen hours, and all he really wants is to sleep. His body is dragging enough that he imagines he’ll have no trouble falling into a slumber as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He’s wrong.

Because then he sees Emma’s teenage bedroom and sees just how empty it is. It’s absolutely nothing like her apartment in New York full of throw pillows and blankets and every artificial plant known to man with a colorful paintings above her headboard. Everything here is rather…beige.

Emma walks out of the bathroom where she’s been getting ready for bed, and he watches as she rubs lotion up and down her hands and her forearms. “Why that glum look on your face? Are you still trying to figure out better ways to argue with David over soccer? Because that dinner conversation is long over. I thought Leo was going to climb on top of the table and start beating on his chest or something equally ridiculous.”

“Hm, no,” Killian chuckles, opening his knees so that Emma can step into them and his hands can find their spots on her waist, warm flesh against his fingertips.

“Then what?”

He blinks up at her, not entirely sure if now is the right time to ask, but then he sees the glint of his mom’s ring falling against Emma’s chest and is reassured in who he is to Emma. “I can’t help but notice that your room here is not quite as colorful as your room at home.”

Emma sighs, and he squeezes her hip in response so that she looks down at him and smile. “It’s kind of a stupid reason. You don’t want to hear about it.”

“I’d love to know more of your beginnings, Swan.”

“Haven’t you heard enough about them today?”

“There is never enough information, love.”

She smiles and reaches to push his hair back off of his head, her hands a magic touch as they move through the strands there. “I’m not a sentimental person. Or, I wasn’t.” Her right hand leaves his hair to find the chain around her neck. Killian’s heart stutters at that movement. “And I never trusted that I was going to stay in one place for very long, so if I had the chance to decorate my room, I didn’t. I kept everything I owned in a little box that was always ready to go.”

His heart may actually break for Emma in this moment, the sad reality of what she’s telling him something that’s hard for him to take in. He can’t imagine what it must be like for her to have lived that way.

“I think this place worked out for you, though.”

“Yeah, it did.” She smiles again, but Killian can see the twinge of sadness in the corners of her lips. “You sure you still want to know about these beginnings of mine when they’re a little bit sad?”

“Like I’ve said before, love, we make quite the team, sad backstories and all. I do, however, think that you need a little something on these walls of yours.”

“I think all of the home décor stores may be closed.”

Killian winks. “Well, I think I’ll just have to get a little creative then.”

His hand slides around her back to squeeze her ass before he’s pushing Emma back from him and getting up from the bed to walk out the door. Everything is darkened with the lights turned off, and since he doesn’t want to wake up everyone else in the house, he uses the flashlight on his phone and quietly walks down the stairs to find his way to the kitchen where he knows there were sheets of paper in the printer as well as a few pens in a cup right behind it. Emma is on his heels, questioning what the hell it is he’s doing, but he doesn’t tell her until he’s grabbing the paper and a thick blue marker.

“What are you doing?” Emma hisses.

“I’m making you some artwork for your wall.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s endearing.”

“You say that about every weird thing that you do.”

“Because the weird things are endearing,” he corrects, looking back at her and smiling. “What kind of drawing do you want? I’m pretty talented, if I do say so myself, but it’s been awhile since I’ve drawn anything.”

“Just…do whatever you want. I’m going to fix myself a hot chocolate. Do you want one?”

“Does Ruth have any tea?”

“I’m going to make you the hot chocolate. It’s better than tea.”

Killian rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest as he starts sketching out what he can remember of the view of the lighthouse today. It’s rough, definitely not his best work, but considering his original plan was simply going to be writing her name out, it’ll have to do for quick work.

Strange things happen when he’s far past tired.

“Milady,” Killian sighs, picking up the paper as well as a bit of tape before walking the few steps toward Emma as she sits on a barstool at the island with two cups of hot chocolate, her mug piled up with whipped cream and sprinkles of cinnamon, “I present to you your artwork for your wall.”

Emma’s eyes glance over it before glancing up at him with a slight smile on her face. “You’ve got to sign it.”

He taps the corner of the paper where he’s scribbled in his number. “Already done.”

“Ah,” Emma laughs, “how could I have missed that?”

“You were distracted by the beauty of the picture.”

“Exactly.” Emma presses up over the countertop and leans forward to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s, and while a part of him wants to deepen it, he doesn’t want to get carried awhile while here. “Thank you. That is very sweet of you to do.”

“Endearing, right?”

“Sure.” She shakes her head and slides his mug over to him so that he can have some of his hot chocolate. “I hope today hasn’t scarred you for life, especially since you still have to survive tomorrow.”

“It’s been fun, Swan. I’ve been…I think it’s gotten me majorly out of my own head. I needed that. And I liked getting to see you be so happy. My only complaint is that I’m under strict instructions not to make your bed squeak. I don’t like that rule.”

Emma reaches over to slap his shoulder, but he moves it out of the way quick enough that she doesn’t get it. It also causes a slight twinge in his shoulder that reminds him that he needs an ice pack for tonight. He hasn’t gotten to put ice on it all day. So, he turns toward the fridge and opens up the freezer, grabbing one of Ruth’s ice packs, and placing it on top of his shoulder before turning back to Emma whose fingers are tracing over the drawing.

Emotion lodges in his throat again, something that’s been happening quite a lot tonight, and it’s what propels him forward to step behind Emma’s back and wrap his arms around her stomach before resting his chin on top of her head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Emma,” he promises, meaning every word. “Not unless you tell me to go. So, you can plan on hanging paintings and making plans and keeping little trinkets in more places than a box. I love you more than I know how to tell you. That’s not going to change.”

Emma audibly sighs, something that he feels under the palms of his hands, before leaning back into Killian and simply staying in that spot so that he can breathe her in.

“I love you,” she breathes out as her head tilts up so that her lips can move across the underside of his jaw. “Let’s take the hot chocolate upstairs and go to bed.”

“And your picture?”

“Yeah, that too.”

-/-

Killian’s arm tingles, the feeling nearly gone, when he wakes up in the morning and finds Emma’s body pressed around it. This isn’t how they fell asleep, not even close, and he’ll probably never have use of his arm again. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, and he flexes his fingers a bit before nuzzling his nose into the back of Emma’s head in an attempt to get to go back to sleep.

They were up until maybe two in the morning talking, sleep never really coming to either of them no matter how much they both wanted it, and judging from the dim light coming through the blinds on the window, it’s still early yet.

He desperately needs coffee. He’s probably not going to be able to go back to sleep, and he desperately needs coffee.

Slowly, Killian begins to extract his arm from Emma’s grip, stopping when she flinches, and after several careful minutes, he’s able to quietly get off the bed and step out of the room, leaving her door cracked so as not to make any kind of noise. He walks down the hallway and uses the guest bathroom before walking down the stairs and wandering to the kitchen in search of coffee.

To his surprise, David is already there sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop open and a cup of coffee sitting next to him, the smell wafting toward Killian.

“Hey,” Killian greets. David nearly jumps out of his chair and knocks everything over, and Killian can’t help but laugh at the shock on his face. “Did you really not hear me coming down the stairs?”

“I, uh, I – ” David is stuttering, obviously at a loss for words, and Killian can’t quite figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t think Dave is usually this flustered in the mornings. “I wasn’t expecting you or Emma to be up this early.”

Killian shakes out his arm, still trying to wake it up. “Believe me. I wish I wasn’t up. Do you always work this early in the morning on a Saturday?”

“No, I don’t, but my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with emails this morning, so I came downstairs to see so it wouldn’t wake Mary Margaret up.”

“Ah, I turned off my emails this weekend for that exact reason.”

“You probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“What’s that, mate?” David coughs in response, and Killian steps forward to the table and sits down across from David, confusion running through him as his stomach twists and turns. “Seriously. What?”

David can’t look at him, not really, and that doesn’t help calm any of Killian’s nerves as he tries to figure out what in the world is going on with him this morning.

“I didn’t know this was happening, I swear. I’d have stopped it if I got one whiff of it, but there’s been an article.”

“An article?”

David turns his computer around, and Killian reads a headline that he’s always expected to see and yet has always hoped to avoid.

The Truth Behind Killian Jones: A Story Told by His Father.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs, his eyes taking in the picture of his father that’s plastered on the screen. Killian hasn’t seen him in years, actual years, and yet he looks exactly the same. “What kind of shit is this?”

“It gets worse.”

“How could it possibly get worse?”

“Look at the journalist.”

Killian’s eyes glance toward the screen again, his gaze finding more words he didn’t want to see.

Walsh Osborne.

As in Emma’s ex, Walsh Osborne who she still works with at ESPN. Though, this article is decidedly not on ESPN’s website.

Holy fucking shit.

Killian’s got to go back to bed. This isn’t real. This is all some kind of messed up nightmare that he’s experiencing, and soon, he’ll wake up and none of it will be real. And yet Killian keeps scrolling through the article, skipping the words to instead look at pictures of himself that Killian hasn’t seen in years. His father shouldn’t have these pictures. Liam should have all of them. And yet, somehow, he doesn’t.

Childhood pictures are nothing, though, at least for right now, when at the bottom of the article are pictures of Killian and Emma standing in the airport yesterday with Emma’s arms wrapped around his waist as well as a picture of them kissing in his car from who knows when. Then there’s one that he knows is from the hallways of Yankee stadium in what was supposed to be a private room.

“Everyone knows about you and Emma,” David tells him.

This is too much. It’s all too much, and he doesn’t know how to handle the reappearance of his father and the very public reveal of his private relationship.

Fuck.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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mccoys-killer-queen · 5 years ago

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This Week’s Playlist (2/14)

Not sure how I got hooked on this idea- but this week I’ll be focusing entirely on 70s songs (and next week I’ll do 80s). Disclaimer: I’m not saying these are my favorite songs of the 70s (believe me that would be WAYYY too hard to narrow down), I’m just filling this week’s list strictly with songs released in the 70s.

I’ve also created a spotify playlist made up of all the songs I’ve used on playlists! I’ll update it every week (before I even post the playlist, so if you check at the right time the songs will be there!)

1.) London Calling- The Clash (1979) I like to define this song as the song that started my descent into classic rock. When I was in 7th grade I had this music teacher who would always play pop music of the late 20th century for class. This song was one of the first songs she showed us, and it became a trademark of the class. We used to get this song played at dances and stuff- so there’s a lot of middle school memory there. Guess we all wanted to be punks- and this is a great boppy song just for that.

2.) All Right Now- Free (1970) Am I being typical for picking this song...? Perhaps (because honestly, at least where I’m from, this is the only Free song anyone knows... yikes. It’s overused in media sometimes imo). But that doesn’t meant it’s not great! It’s got everything! An epic guitar riff that frames the lyrics, a sick beat, funny rhymes, a killer musical interlude with bangin piano and a guitar solo- all while being undeniably CHILL. This one of those chill summer songs to me; the kind you listen to on a hot, quiet, and sunny car ride through the country with the windows down while wearing sunglasses. That’s just the aesthetic I’ve always associated with this song.

3.) Rock’n Me- Steve Miller Band (1976) Just try not to bop. I dare you. This is a real dance-a-little-in-your-seat song with a GREAT, smooth flow to it. Killer rhymes and a fast, subtle beat you can’t avoid even if you try. Steve Miller Band is one of my favorite groups of the 70s and I wish they got more appreciation in general. I could’ve picked so many of their songs already for these playlists, but this one stood out to me this week because I feel like it’s very recognizable (I always heard this song as a kid and I feel like maybe some people on here did too). It’s so damn catchy that it’ll just stick with you, so listen and get ready for an earworm. Also a great road trip song.

4.) Once Bitten, Twice Shy- Ian Hunter (1975) No, this isn’t Great White!! This is the song we all know and love but this one’s the original! I feel like I need to educate anyone who’ll listen about this! *scoff* god, now I can see why Joe Elliott’s always shoving Ian Hunter in everyone’s faces- because he’s worth it! Maybe I’m a little biased, but I personally prefer this version over Great White’s for a bunch of different reasons. For one thing, I think this version focuses more on telling the story rather than trying to make the music over the top. The instrumentals of this one ROCK, but the way it’s constructed with the lyrics makes the story more understandable- essentially, it’s just more raw, and I like the raw sound to it, but that’s just me. You all probably know how the song goes at this point, but after listening to this version you’ll see just how much of it Great White changed. You take it upon yourself to decipher the meaning of the lyrics ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I think we all know what “rock and roll” means at this point...

5.) Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’- Journey (1979) I don’t like to acknowledge Valentine’s Day, nor was I going to mention it in any way on this playlist- but let me tell you a story: last year on VD, I was driving home from school, and this song came on the radio. Then it hit me- I had completely forgotten about ANTI-Valentine’s Day songs! This is a PERFECT example of one. It tells of an unfaithful someone who gets bitten in the ass by someone else’s unfaithfulness. Talk about a SICK burn! This has gotta be my favorite Journey song as well. It’s like a flash-fiction song; telling a huge story while barely saying anything at all. My favorite part of this song by far is how each instrument has a crystal clear part, and you can very easily pick out each one. The intro of this song is just excellent. You can clearly hear the bass, drums, guitars, and piano all introduced in different ways. It’s just a gorgeous song through and through, and those 189 “na”s at the end just tie it all together (and yes, I counted). You’ll have all the words down before you know it.

6.) You’re All I’ve Got Tonight- The Cars (1978) Like I said last week, The Cars are one of the perfect combos of rock and pop. If you think about it, this one can be another anti-Valentine’s Day song. The lyrics have a sloppy and desperate feel to them- kinda like the speaker is drunk and throwing themselves at someone because they’re that desperate. “I don’t care if you hurt me some more, I don’t care if you even the score”- like oof man, you just sound desperate. This song is a banger in every way and let’s face it- the keyboard at the chorus is just the absolute best part. Strong points for these guys are always keyboards and guitars. It’s got this rock hard chill 80s vibe to it (despite it being a 70s song- new wave, you know), you’ll feel that you need to be doing something cool while listening to it.

7.) Rock and Roll- Led Zeppelin (1971) It’s so cliche of me to use this I know I know I KNOW- but can you blame me? On Sunday in a record booth at the market I found an original Zeppelin IV and I feel like this song has been following me all week because of it. This is unarguably one the most recognizable and famous rock songs of all time- because it was so expertly crafted in every way imaginable- just like everything else Zeppelin’s ever done. It’s ALWAYS the drums that do it for me in this song. l That filler at the end is- without question- the best part of the whole song. Bonzo just KILLS it. Overall, it’s a short-ish song that uses its time extremely well; it’s like all four of them went “let’s maximize every single element that goes into a bop, and make a song like that”. In some ways, this song is objectively perfect. If you want pure rock and roll in all its glory- what better song to choose than Rock and Roll itself?

8.) Keep Yourself Alive- Queen (1973) Another objectively perfect rock and roll song with a killer drum solo. I’m super biased towards Queen- but I cannot believe I never heard of this song until I was prepping my brain to see Bohemian Rhapsody! Honestly, who thinks it’s okay to keep this hidden? It’s the leading song off of their very first album- so this is almost like the song that INVENTED Queen fans! It’s a Brian May baby- and hell yeah does it show. I think everyone needs to know this song for artistic and historical reasons. It’s pure, power rock Queen through and through- despite being one of the earliest of their songs.

9.) Cum On Feel the Noize- Slade (1973) NO, it’s not Quiet Riot!! This is the song we all know and love but this one’s the original!! Again, I feel like I need to educate anyone who’ll listen about this! I get so angry sometimes that Quiet Riot gets all the credit for songs like this one and Mama Weer All Crazee now. Slade was super popular in England in the 70s- ahead of their time for sure but definitely one with the glam rock movement- but not as big in America. I never knew these guys existed until about five years ago and damn I felt like I had to be blind before learning that. Just listen to this song and then I think the sound of it’ll make a lot more sense, like “oh yeah- Quiet Riot’s version kinda DOES sound like it could be a glam rock song from the early 70s!” Just goes to show what geniuses these guys were, because their songs can be both glam rock AND heavy metal and work either way. Once you hear this version, though, I believe there’s no going back.

10.) Roll With the Changes- REO Speedwagon (1978) This was my favorite song for a few months when I was 16- it’s absolutely EPIC. The speaker is bursting at the seams with accepting a new found moral understanding of how they feel about trying to please or win over an apparent lover. They come to the conclusion that the other person just needs to keep on “rolling with the changes” and that they’ll be there for them whenever they decide to accept that perspective. The KEYBOARD is to D I E F O R GUYS. Neal Doughty is a motherfucking SAINT- and SO IS GARY RICHRATH. This song sounds like it’s the finale of a musical or something! Possibly the biggest bop REO has ever created. It’s a groovy, extremely poetic, fast, theatrical, very slightly operatic rock and roll song and I’d highly recommend this to any person on the planet I love it that much. It’s lovable in every possible way.

#the clash #free #steve miller band #ian hunter #journey #the cars #led zeppelin #queen #slade #reo speedwagon #weekly playlists #raydio gaga

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thedistantstorm · 5 years ago

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Keep On Rising (Until The Sky Knows Your Name) 16

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

This time: The conversation.

Her eyes focus on the clock above the door first. 02:18, it says, projected in pale blue. She feels heavy, limp, and sore. Hollow, like there’s no point in moving. There’s no sound, the screen that’s mounted up in the corner turned off. It takes a moment to remember, her mind fuzzy and dark like the edges of her vision, not fully awake. She lets her eyes flutter closed.

Karena. Matron Karen was there. She said they were going… back. They were going back.

Still in a haze, her head lolls to the right when she tries to look in that direction, her half-lidded eyes meeting the gaze of the dark haired nurse from before, the one that almost always checked in on her at night. The woman smiles gently down at her, fixing one of the many tubes that are attached to her arm. She doesn’t say anything, which is a little strange. Her eyes seem to light up though. Happy.

That’s when she feels it.

There’s a warmth, a weight around her fingers. A hand cradling hers. A thumb running over her knuckles, steady and sure.

Amanda carefully tilts her head the other way. Slowly, she coaches herself, feeling very much like a rag doll. She knows it’s him immediately. His eyes are so gentle, like one of his blankets. Like she could curl up and go back to sleep and know he’d keep her safe.

“Hello,” He whispers, the left corner of his lips curling up in a half smile as her eyes clear.

“‘Lo,” She whispers back, her voice small. Her throat is scratchy. Not enough to make her want water though. She yawns, feeling floaty and heavy, all at once.

His hand traces over her knuckles some more, and her clenched fist relaxes. “It’s late,” He says, when she tries to keep her eyes open. He hasn’t looked away from her face, even though it’s dark. “You can go back to sleep.”

She sighs, letting her eyes fall closed. It feels like hours pass, but she just cannot fall back asleep. She peeks open an eye at him. Only one. His eyes are still trained on her face. “Yer lookin’ at me funny,” She drawls. “D’I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” He answers, sounding amused.

“Wanted to,” She tells him. He should be able to figure things out. “Was real bad there.”

“You won’t go back.”

“Good,” She says, both eyes focusing on him now. “No fosters, either.”

“No,” He agrees. “No fosters.”

She squirms, getting more comfortable. She’s propped up by all manner of pillows. “Miss Karena will take me back, right? When I'm better?"

"She will not. She has the other children to attend to."

"I won't cause any trouble," She grouses. "I tried, like y'all wanted. Should be enough proof."

One eyebrow rises in a question. "Proof of what?"

Amanda sighs, tapping his palm. "I don't need to be adopted. I don't want another ma or dad. I can stay in the orphanage and grow up jus' fine."

"They moved you because of your injury, I was told."

"Yeah, and I'll get better."

"It will be an adjustment, getting used to your new situation."

"But I'll get better, Zavala," She argues. “I seen people - old people,” She stresses, like it makes a difference, “With bionic legs ‘n arms. They got on well enough, should be the same for me.”

“You will,” He agrees. “But you need more attention than a matron can provide. Someone who is looking out for you first, without other children-”

“I won’t go back to another family.” Both eyes open, their blue-green gaze holding his without backing down.

“I know. You’d need to be placed with someone who understood you. Who you wanted to be with.”

“You said no fosters.”

“Something permanent,” He elaborates.

“No.” She sits up, ignoring the twinge of pain in her hip and the way her leg desperately thinks there’s still a knee and foot attached. It’s been doing that lately. “I don’t wanna go with anyone. No more people.”

Zavala watches her adjust herself, turning to face him, good leg dangling off the bed, her stump making it almost to the edge in its wrap, the pant leg of her pajamas ripped and rolled up to mind the swelling. There’s something terribly brave about her, her hands balled into fists at her sides, her eyes bright with determination, the will to fight.

She opens her mouth, and he expects it to come out in a yell. “Please don’t make me,” She says instead, levelly. It’s not a whisper, nor a flashbang of sound. Tears glimmer in her eyes.

“A man came to see you yesterday,” He begins instead, and she tilts her head at the sudden conversation change. “Someone I work with.”

“Yeah,” She agrees, confused.

“He came to tell me how you were doing, after. And to help me make sure you would not stay in the home you’d been sent to, the one attached to the other hospital.”

“But, why-”

“No one told me where you were being taken. Even Karena did not know until afterwards.” He leans forward as he speaks, invested. “We called the hospital. I tried to come see you. They would not allow it. I was beside myself.” His eyes shine in that honest way, the one that tells her he doesn’t know how to do anything but tell her the truth.

He takes both of her hands in his. “I missed you too,” She admits softly.

Shiori shimmers into place beside them, casting a delicate beam of light on the small tray-table that Amanda usually uses for meals. The child’s eyes are drawn to it, watching as a small pile of paperwork appears beside them both.

“What’s that?”

“A lot of it is legal jargon,” He tells her. “City laws and ordinances designed to protect the rights of a child. But,” He lifts the page Shiori placed on top, “I think this might be the page that would interest you most.”

She handles it delicately, little fingers curling around the edges of the paper. “This is-” She inhales sharply, her eyes scanning it quick, seeing the flourish of the ‘Z', a signature that’s almost artistic in heavy black ink. She rakes her gaze back up the paper.

Her name is on it, in perfect type. The seal on the bottom corner is signed and raised. She runs her finger over his signature, feels the indent from the pressure he’d put on the paper.

“I wanted to ask you first,” He admits, softly. Maybe for the first time, she hears something quiver in his voice, the truth tumbling from his lips nervously. It’s not unlike the shakiness of her hands, the way her eyes dart across the paper, not believing…

In conjunction with City Ordinance 052.8.26.3, the below signed designates themselves as the legal guardian of the above mentioned youth, who has been recognized as a ward of the City. Until such time as they reach the age of majority, the below signed does so swear to provide for the youth’s needs and to uphold all responsibilities befitting a parent of any child of the City. Sworn this day-

“You-”

“I was meeting with Karena when they moved you to the other hospital," He murmurs, perfectly enunciating each word despite the way his speech speeds up. "I was going to come back and tell you that night, to make sure you would not turn me away, that my intention-”

“Turn ya away?” She thrusts the paper back onto the table, crying but not bothering to wipe the tears from her face. “Don’t you know that’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted since I got here?”

“But you’ve said-”

“You ain’t tryin’ replace my Ma or Pa,” She tells him, serious, her eyes never leaving his. “You’re Zavala,” She continues, like that explains everything. “Just Zavala.” Her expression crumples, voice cracking like a wave cresting against tall cliffs, sharp and broken. “Ya just… care, an’ ya wanna see me be happy, an-”

The nurse enters the room with a sense of urgency, hearing the alarm go off from the nurses’ station down the hall. One of the child’s IV lines has been pulled from her arm, the fluid slowly dripping into the bed. She has a mild rebuke on her tongue, ready to ask what’s happened, but stops before she makes a sound.

“It’s alright to cry,” The Commander says, in what might be the most soothing register the nurse has ever heard. “I know it is a lot.”

The woman keeps her head down, not wanting to draw attention to herself as she pulls back the ruined line, coiling it up before throwing it away and shutting off the alarms. She removes the saturated pad beneath the sheets from the IV solution and replaces it.

“You’re gonna take care of me?” The girl whimpers into his chest. “Y’promise? No take backs?”

“Absolutely none,” He agrees.

Instead of leaving, the nurse rounds the bed, reaching between them carefully. Amanda looks up at her, half of her tear-streaked face pushed into the familiar red sweater the Commander wears beneath his armor. She makes a sound of concern when the nurse carefully moves her arm, not wanting to be pulled away.

“Shh,” The nurse consoles, looking first to Zavala with an easy smile before turning her attention to Amanda with a warm blink. “I’m just disconnecting the rest of your lines, sweetheart.” She works quickly, detangling the mess of medication cables until the child is unbound, swiping at the remnants of the one she’d pulled out with a cotton pad. “There we go,” She coos. “Hug away.”

Zavala pulls the child into his arms with ease, not speaking to the nurse, but giving her a thankful glance. The nurse nods, stepping away. “I’ll come back in the morning. Let me know if you need anything.”

“‘M good,” The little one whispers, well after her nurse has gone. “I have everything.”

Zavala can’t help but hold her tighter.

#amanda holliday #commander zavala #shipwright september #found family #destiny fanfiction #i made myself cry writing this #consider yourself warned

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

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Stay Ch. 16

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, and fluff, and feels oh my!

A/N: So yeah I swear I wroth an authors note for this... but idfk what happened.

ANYWAY! Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together. This one is also short and sweet (guess that’s the mood I’m in). However, y’all should know me by now. This is just the calm before the storm.

Hope you enjoy this one my pumpkins!

Tags are open!

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March 2007

At some point in the last five months, you’d stopped recognizing yourself. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Y/N. Her hair was different, down to even the eyebrows. Her accent distinctly that of a life long Londoner. She worked for an independent UK couture fashion magazine, chose wine over whiskey, and was distinctly heterosexual.

When the chance to work this job requiring deep cover came up in December you jumped on it. You didn’t want to be you anymore. The you that couldn’t be with the woman you loved. The you that was heartbroken. The you who was beginning to doubt that you’d ever be happy. Fuck her.

Being Charlie Daniels was far better. She was, of course, a real person. Just one who was now living comfortably in the Bahamas courtesy of MI6. Even legit agencies had use of freelance talent every now and then.

Settling into her life had been easy. Not setting her boss on fire or blowing his brains out daily was a different task altogether. Turned out that a magazine was a great front for a crime empire. Lots of international travel, young and beautiful and desperate men and women, money exchanged in countless untraceable ways, on and on. And this fucker was happy to take advantage of every single disgusting avenue it opened up.

You almost had everything you needed to hand to MI6, get your obscenely large payout, and get on to another gig while they threw all of these bastards into cells to rot for the rest of their miserable lives. Just one more trip. After whatever horrible things they lay out in Tokyo you’ll be set.

Tokyo is one of those cities you can lose yourself in. Like New York but better for its interesting balance of vibrancy and grounded reserve. You absolutely love it.

The whole point of the trip, at least on the surface, was to focus on Fashion Week Tokyo. Honestly, there was a part of you that wished this was your world. Nothing but runway shows and after parties. Writing about the latest trends rather than delving into the inner workings of the worlds miscreants

Oh well. It was nice enough to pretend. You had to admit that you’d miss Charlie Daniels once you shed this skin in a couple of weeks.

You’re sitting two people down from your boss at an underground show. The level of security here screams that there are other things going on behind the scenes but it’s still a room filled with a who’s who of the Japanese and international fashion communities.

This was your third show of the day, and you knew there would be a party after where you’d have to schmooze all while plucking information from your unsuspecting fellow guests. You’re exhausted. So rather than pay much attention to the show you let your mind wander.

When she walks out you feel her rather than see her. Slowly you turn your head to stare dumbstruck at the model walking onto the catwalk. Your heart begins beating against your ribs, your mouth goes dry, your hands shake.

It takes every ounce of control you have to keep your emotions in. To not scream “Natasha!” at the top of your lungs. To not grab her and run for the hills. Charlie Daniels and her easy life be damned. It’s hard but you manage.

As she turns and comes back down, passing now closer to you, her eyes don’t graze the crowd at all. Head up, shoulders back, she walks the runway like she’d been doing it for years.

The rest of the show is maybe ten minutes but it feels like years. You know the models are all attending the party. Eye candy for the high end guests.

It’s fairly easy to ditch your coworkers in the crowd as you try to find the best vantage point in the room without being too obvious. After a solid twenty minutes, you find yourself planning an escape route. Most of the models are milling about but she’s no where to be seen. You will find her.

But you know you can’t skip out just yet. At the bar, you order a red wine and make yourself seen. Charlie would never miss the whole party after all. You spend a bit chatting with designers and a few models, feigning interest in the whole thing until you hear your boss call out to you.

“Oy, Charlie!” Carl’s voice alone makes you want to put him down. When you turn he’s waving you over to the bar. Sighing heavily you head over.

You’re about ten feet away when you see her, head back laughing at something Carl or his friend had said. Both men are far to close to her for your liking and the hungry look on Carl’s face sets your blood boiling.

He slings an arm around your shoulders and you carefully coach your face to not show disgust. “Charlie here is my best writer. Doin’ some pieces for us on this whole thing,” he waves his other hand around wildly.

“Good to meet ya, Charlie, I’m Dan,” the other man, clearly American says.

“Likewise,” Natasha doesn’t react to the accent at all.

“This here is-”

“Natalie,” Natasha cuts him off, extending a hand to you. Holding her eyes with yours you take it. It’s like touching a live wire.

“Natalie is an American model working here in Japan. May be a good topic for a piece.” He ribs you leaning closer, “And a good piece for the office eh?” Suddenly that MI6 money seems far less appealing.

“I’d love that,” Natasha beams. “Why don’t you guys go mingle and Charlie and I can chat!” The men exchange a glance, but there’s plenty of fresh meat around to sink their teeth into.

Carl flashes you a greasy smile and a wink as he walks away. Thinking clearly that you’re going to snare this woman for him. You, unfortunately, had a few others. Not something you were proud of. Demands of the job you told yourself.

“She’ll take a vodka neat,” you tell the bartender.

“Yes,” Natasha smiles at him, “Whiskey for her. Makers if you have it.” He thinks nothing of it and makes your drinks.

“So, how’s modeling in Japan?”

“Probably about as good as writing for a sleazy jackal.”

You laugh, “That bad? What’s the goal.”

“Getting a cover,” you commend the clever word play.

“That’s a good goal. Long term?”

“Something like that.” She takes a sip of her vodka, “How long are you here?”

“End of the week.” Your skin itches to touch her. The men are rounding back. You hold her gaze and shift your eyes back to them. She catches on.

“Perfect! It’s so hard to have a good interview here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you come by my hotel?” You whip out your spare key card. “I’d love to get your story for the mag, maybe do a full feature.”

“A feature would be excellent exposure!”

“Wouldn’t it?” Carl slides up next to her. “We can get you all the exposure you could want Ms. Natalie.”

“Charlie was telling me all about it.” She flashes him a coy smile. “Thank you so much Charlie! I forgot I have a late fitting tonight for another show so I’ve got to run. But we’ll chat soon yeah?”

“Absolutely! It was so good to meet you Natalie.”

“Same! Bye!” She hurries through the crowded room and disappears.

“Busy girl.” Carl quips. “Whiskey?” You look down at the glass by your hand.

“Some guy sent them over,” you gesture to Natasha’s lipstick stained glass. “Seemed rude to refuse. Can’t stand the stuff though.”

“That’s a mans drink,” Carl laughs at his own perceived joke and you force a smile.

Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. You’d refused to allow yourself to hope that she’d be here, too obvious to come the same night, better to wait. Kicking off your shoes you head straight to the mini bar and crack open a whiskey, downing it in one gulp.

“You really need to be more careful,” Natasha’s voice comes from the bathroom. “I mean not even checking around. Sloppy.”

“Charlie Daniels doesn’t have to check for Russian assassins in her bathroom,” a smile pulls your face so tight it hurts.

“Well, Natalie Rushman isn’t a Russian spy. So…”

You let your real accent resurface as you pull her into your arms, “Natalie Rushman, I don’t know if that’s clever or lazy.” She kisses you hard, tongue sliding over your lips hands gripping your ass.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Kinda like the accent.”

“Oh?” You revert to the clipped posh Londoner sound. “Would you rather be with Charlie? I hate to break it to you, she’s strictly into dick so you may need to get a bit creative.”

Natasha’s head falls back with laughter, “I’m always into a challenge but,” she cups your face in her hands, “I’d much rather Y/N, she’s got a cute accent too.” Your kiss is soft this time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Gently you push a strand of hair out of her face. “Is this smart? Are you gonna get-”

“I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was risk.” She pulls away and tugs you toward the bed. “There’s no surveillance on me here, I check in every week, that’s it. This is strictly to build a cover.”

“Cover for what?” She gives you a sideways glance. “Right. National security.”

“Do you really want to talk about work?”

Smirking at her you push her back on the bed. “Maybe later.”

You lean down to her but she stops you by planting a strappy heel in the center of your chest. Trailing your fingers down her leg you snag a knife from her thigh holster. Carefully you slide the blade under the straps, the incredibly sharp edge cuts through the thin suede like it’s nothing.

“Those were very expensive you know,” eyes sparkling with desire.

You slip the shoe off and toss it aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Your lips press against her ankle.

Everything in your life until her was so fleeting. Even your own name, the sound of your own voice, who you were… But with her, you were grounded. You weren’t anything but her’s, you were Y/N.

Suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Caressing her muscular calf you just stare at her eyes. Emerald green, dark liner, lids heavy with lust and exhaustion.

“Natasha…” Your voice cracks and you fight for composure.

“Y/N? What is it?” She shoots up, cradling your face in her hands.

You shake your head, unable to really find the words and unwilling to send this storm of emotions to her. “I just…” You cover her hands with your own. It’s not that you don’t want her, you do. But…

“Can we just… I just wanna hold you…” Her expression immediately softens, eyes sparkling a touch with tears. “Sorry… I… I just…”

“I’d love that, baby.” Tenderly her lips brush yours, then your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids as they flutter closed.

You shed your clothes and crawl into the plush bed. Holding tight to one another you spend hours drifting in and out of sleep, covering the other with soft kisses. Before the sun rises your hands wander southward.

This time you don’t fuck one another senseless. It feels like you’re trying to memorize every curve, every sound, every subtle thing that marks being together. You both know you many not get to do this for some time. The knowledge aches but it doesn’t make having her any less sweet.

Post Snap

You lean your head back on the wall behind the booth. The crying man from last night is gone, you find yourself hoping that he’s resting peacefully somewhere… even though you know it’s pointless to hope for such things.

There are more people filling the bar than there was before. The TVs are off, radios turned up, reporters frantically trying to determine what happened. It was global, that was clear. All planes grounded, trains stopped, communications spotty due to damaged cell towers.

A man speaks frantically to someone who seems to be a friend that he was heading to Nuremberg from Budapest, how the roads are almost not navigable. He doesn’t know if his family is even still there but he has to find out.

Despite his distress, your lips curl a bit at the mention of Budapest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #queer fic #wlw

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71tenseventeen · 6 years ago

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Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-19

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen.

Geno keeps his promise. He calls back in less than five minutes and keeps Sid on the phone until he’s dashing through the front door, fifteen minutes later. “Sid,” he breathes, rushing to where Sid is moving to sit up, sliding an arm around his waist.

“Geno…” Sid starts, eyes welling up again.

“I know, Sid,” he says, guiding them to the door. “Know you scared but going to be okay. I’m promise.” He reaches over and grips Sid’s chin, pausing his steps. “Everything going to be okay. Understand?”

He nods, swallowing thickly, and lets Geno lead him out of the apartment.

He tries to pull away in the hall. “What if someone sees…” he trails off and Geno just sets his jaw, pulling Sid closer.

“Really not care about that right now.”

In the car, Geno reaches over and grips his hand, murmuring quiet reassurances the entire drive to the hospital.

Sid is immediately whisked to a private room where Dr. Agarwal and two nurses are waiting. They waste no time getting him out of his clothes and into a gown while he tries hard not to cry. And he manages right up until he’s on the bed and Dr. Agarwal presses the doppler probe into the gel on his belly. Sid feels like he can’t breathe, holds tight to Geno’s hand while he begs silently to hear their baby’s heartbeat. It feels like time stops and he thinks he’s going to fall to pieces but then there it is. The steady thumpa thumpa thumpa and Sid bursts into tears, burying his face when Geno pulls him close whispering soft words of comfort.

“Baby okay, Sid. Listen, heartbeat strong. Told you everything be okay.” Sid holds tight and is grateful Geno doesn’t let him go.

An hour later Sid’s got an IV, had blood drawn and is receiving IV fluids. Dr. Agarwal is not impressed with him and he hangs his head as she explains what happened. “You’re dehydrated and your blood pressure is way too high. I’m sorry, Sidney, but your current job is not a safe option for you right now. You’re on your feet too much without a break and the stress is too high. I’ll have to see how you respond over the next few days before I make a decision about school. For now, consider yourself on modified bedrest. That means no work, no school and no overexertion. You can take short walks and swims if Geno is with you but I don’t want you on your feet for prolonged periods of time.”

Sid nods, sadly, still not meeting her eyes and Geno smooths his hair gently. It would be the perfect time for him to chime in with an “I told you so” or even with anger. Sid knows he deserves it and he’s been expecting it but it hasn’t come. Instead Geno has stayed close, stroking his hair, holding his hand through the procedures and rubbing his shoulders soothingly as Dr. Agarwal lays down the law.

Even though he’s been gripping Geno’s arm, hand, hoodie—anything he could get his hand on—for the entire time, he still can’t bring himself to actually look at him when Dr. Agarwal and the nurses finally leave the room.

“Sid,” Geno prods, sounding worried. “It’s going to be okay. You hear the doctor. Baby is alright, still healthy. I’m help take care of you, whatever you need. Make sure you’re not lose apartment if that’s what you want. Know you don’t like it but not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

Sid sucks in a shuddering breath and finally casts his eyes up. “Aren’t you going to say I told you so?”

Geno sighs and eases onto the hospital bed, drawing Sid into his arms. “No. That shitty thing to say and you not deserve that.”

“This is my fault. I do deserve it.”

Geno narrows his eyes, cups Sid’s cheek with his big hand and holds firm. “Don’t want to hear you say that again. Things been so hard on you with pregnancy, know how much you sacrifice already, know how scared you been. Think I not see how hard you try? Think I don’t know why you work so hard?”

“But I—”

“Did what you think you need to do,” Geno interrupts. “Because you’re thinking about life, future for you and baby. Is a lot of responsibility and I’m sorry things not work out the way you hope.”

“I just wanted to try to take care of myself.”

“I know. And you do such a good job, try so hard. Baby just… Maybe need little extra from you right now. So now I’m take care of you. Know you not want that, know is hard for you but not going to let you suffer or go back to work. I’m make sure bills paid for now, pay for rent too, if that what you need.” Geno looks so sincere, guilt hits Sid as hard as if someone punched him.

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want. Only matter what—”

“Geno, please,” Sid looks at him pleadingly. “It does matter what you want. Please?”

There’s a moment of hesitation long enough that Sid thinks Geno might not answer but then he says with a soft sigh. “No, I’m not want you stay in old apartment. Want you move in with me so I can be sure you have enough food, air conditioning, heat in winter. Want to go to games and practice and not worry about where you are and if you okay. I’m want to spend time with you, go to doctor, talk about baby, keep getting to know without having to set up meeting plans. But if that not work for you, then we figure it out, understand?”

It’s Sid’s turn to sigh as he nods before looking back up at Geno. “I—If it’s what you really want then I’ll, um, I’ll come stay with you.”

Part of Sid hates it, hates that he’s getting into a situation where he has to rely on someone else to meet his needs. But a bigger part of him, the part that was terrified tonight and wants desperately to be healthy for his baby is finally ready.

“You sure, Sid? Never want to push you.”

“I’m sure,” Sid nods. “You’re right and you’ve been right. And I don’t…” he trails off and when he speaks again, his voice is so low, it’s almost a whisper. “I was so scared.” He’s blinking back tears again but Geno doesn’t bat an eye, just pulls him close and leans them back on the bed.

Dr. Agarwal monitors Sid closely for the next few hours. He gets two bags of IV fluid and orders some chicken broth and toast when she asks him to eat to be sure he can keep the food down. He tells Geno more than once to go home and each time Geno just frowns at him like he’s lost his mind. It’s late, after ten, when she finally discharges Sid with strict instructions to stay on bedrest for the next several days and three appointments to check in with her.

He’s so relieved that the baby is okay that he doesn’t argue. The only time he starts to complain is when the nurse brings in a wheelchair for him but he barely gets two words out when Dr. Agarwal is giving him a stern look. “Bedrest, Sidney, or I’ll admit you for the next week.” He snaps his mouth shut and climbs dutifully into the chair, letting Geno wheel him out of the room.

It’s not until they’ve made it halfway down the hall that Geno leans forward and whispers, “She little bit scary,” making Sid snort with soft laughter. He twists just enough to smile gratefully at Geno who winks and smiles back.

Part 20

#Take My Hand #My fic #sidgeno #mpreg #rpf #19

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bbclesmis · 6 years ago

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Can the BBC’s Les Misérables do justice to Victor Hugo’s epic novel?

Few who love Les Mis the musical have read its source: a 1,500-page Victor Hugo novel. As the BBC tackles the book, David Bellos explains why it’s such a popular text to adapt.

The Sunday Times, December 16 2018, 12:01am

At dawn on June 19, 1815, in a muddy Belgian field where Napoleon has just lost his last battle, a scavenger filches the watch and purse of a dying soldier; a few weeks later, a long-term inmate of Toulon jail is released with a yellow passport and 109 francs. That’s where interlocking stories of Les Misérables begin, with Thénardier robbing the father of Marius, and Valjean setting off towards Digne.

If you think the magic of Les Mis comes mainly from the operatic version by Boublil and Schönberg, wait until you see the new adaptation by Andrew Davies, drawn from the book and not, like Tom Hooper’s 2012 film, from the musical, which leaves out most of Hugo’s novel’s story and doesn’t even mention the Battle of Waterloo. Davies’s script begins at the beginning, and the director, Tom Shankland, makes a truly memorable opener out of it.

Any adaptation of Les Misérables stands in a global tradition of spin-offs in every medium. In the cinema alone, there are about 70 full-length Misérables, in languages as varied as Russian, Farsi and Arabic. In Japan, there has been an independent strain of Mis-mania, expressed in manga and animé, for 100 years.

It’s not hard to see why Les Misérables is so much more attractive to dramatists than any other novel of the 19th century. Despite long passages of historical and philosophical discussion, Hugo’s saga of the poor has a simple narrative arc. It tells the redemptive life story of the former convict Valjean, from his release at Toulon to his death in Paris 20 years later. And, despite the sufferings that fill its pages, it is an optimistic story of how a man from the bottom of the pile may aspire to goodness and achieve it through persistence and sacrifice (plus the kind of luck that novels can invent). That’s dramatic enough.

Hugo was also a dramatist of genius. He created grand scenes ready for staging. The candlestick episode at Digne; the courtroom in Arras, where Valjean gives himself up to save an innocent man; the hold-up in Boulevard de l’Hôpital and Valjean’s escape from it; and the opening vision of a vulture-like thief robbing a dead man the morning after the greatest battle ever fought. Nearly all these great scenes feature a hero, part Hercules, part Christ, who defines himself through actions, not through thoughts and words. In fact, Valjean hardly says a word to himself, and not many to other people, either.

This leaves adapters and directors free to create their own image of this mythical figure. We’ve had a Valjean who looks like a tramp (the rough-hewn Harry Baur in Raymond Bernard’s 1934 film) and one who looks like a banker (in the Japanese TV serial), alongside handsome young men (Fredric March, Liam Neeson) and an action-movie star (Jean-Paul Belmondo) who had trouble pretending to be the right age. What we’ve not had is a Valjean who looks like Hugo: a short, broad-shouldered man in late middle age, in remarkably good physical shape. Despite being too tall, Dominic West, in this new TV version, comes closer than most. Les Misérables is not autobiographical (Hugo never went to prison, got buried alive or went down the sewers), but the writer’s moral self-identification with the suffering hero is one of the fundamental strengths of his book.

It was destined for the stage from the start. Even before the last volumes went on sale in July 1862, Charles Hugo, the writer’s son, began drafting a stage spectacular. A script doctor was hired to get it into shape for its premiere in Brussels in January 1863. It still flopped. But, published as a book, it influenced adaptations as to what to cut and keep.

The addition of music also has roots older than the West End musical version. Almost as soon as the first American translation of the novel appeared, a dramatist called Albert Cassedy dashed off Fantine, or The Fate of a Grisette, a popular opera with a score by Charles Koppitz. Music also plays an overlooked role in the novel: the tune Cosette practises on her piano- organ and the songs sung by schoolgirls in the Champs-Elysées, by convicts on tumbrils, by students in restaurants, hummed by a hunter in the woods and shouted out by an urchin on his way to the barricade, make up a concert programme of popular music in 19th-century France. It’s time to dust these off and perform them as the music Hugo had in his head.

Britain has had an unhappy relationship with Hugo’s epic tale because its authorised translation, by a retired military gentleman with his own views about what happened at Waterloo, was a complete disaster. For legal reasons, no new version could be brought out for decades thereafter. It didn’t help that the translation was available only in a costly hardback format.

Les Misérables reached its real audience in Britain through stage plays, and it’s amazing to see just how many there were: Charity, by CH Hazlewood, “founded on Victor Hugo’s story of Les Misérables”, was performed in London in November 1862; then came Jean Valjean, by Harry Seymour, Clarance Holt’s Out of Evil Cometh Good, in 1867, and many more. They concentrated heavily on Part I of Hugo’s five-part novel. The battle scene at Waterloo in Part II and the “revolutionary” stories of Parts IV and V seem to have been ignored most of the time.

In Russia, too, Tolstoy’s retelling of Les Misérables in simple language focused on Bishop Myriel’s charitable gift of silver to a rough customer. It was this fable-like episode, transposed into English by Norman McKinnel as The Bishop’s Candlesticks in 1908, that was turned into a silent short film by Herbert Brenon in 1913, which was then remade with a soundtrack in 1929. It never stopped, leaving Andrew Davies with a rich inheritance to renew — and to overturn. But he keeps one of the glitches that early translators made and that all Hollywood movie versions retain: he has Valjean steal the bishop’s silver cutlery, whereas in the novel he steals his silver plates (the French word “couvert” having changed its meaning).

One reason why Les Misérables has been remade in so many languages and periods is sex, or, more precisely, its total absence. It wasn’t prudery that kept Hugo off the topic. (He had plenty of experience, to put it politely.) But Les Misérables is about justice, social morality, crime, punishment, the meaning of history and the full potential of human life.

It’s true that old Gillenormand boasts of his past as a rake, but at 90 years of age, he’s long past acting out. It’s also true that Fantine becomes a prostitute — but Hugo deals with the episode in just seven words. Adaptations that put sex into the story express not what Hugo wrote about, but what some audiences are expected to find alluring.

On the other hand, a belief in the existence of a god is integral to the book’s meaning. Deeply sceptical of the Catholic church, Hugo omits Christian artefacts and rituals (including midnight Mass at Montfermeil and the church wedding of Cosette and Marius) to a degree that is almost comical in a panorama of 19th-century life, but he insisted that Les Misérables was a religious work. The prismatic glint of sunlight through foliage that Shankland deploys in the new BBC version, to show the start of Valjean’s conversion after robbing Petit-Gervais, seems to me an intelligent and respectful way of hinting at what Hugo meant.

One of the more puzzling aspects of Les Misérables and its flourishing international afterlife is its exclusive focus on France. There’s not a single foreigner among the 120 named characters in the novel; barring occasional remarks about London, Poland and the United States, Les Misérables talks exclusively about the history, politics, social structure and social ills of the country that Hugo considered to be top nation for all time, namely his own.

Though largely written in Guernsey and initially published in Belgium, the book was written for the French by a man whose long exile had no foreseeable end. Its first translator into Italian requested permission to cut historical passages because “there are some Italians, rather a lot in fact, who say: ‘This book, Les Misérables, is a French book. It is not about us. Let the French read it as history, let us read it as a novel.’”

Permission was refused. The intensity and completeness of this exposition of the social ills in 19th-century France effectively turned that now mythical place into a stand-in for the whole world. You can’t blame Hugo for not being in tune with 21st-century ideas of the politically correct, but you have to admire him for standing outside the conventions of his day.

His response to the translator has a prophetic sense, and answers in advance the question of why his French-focused masterpiece continues to attract readers, fans and adapters all over the world: “I do not know whether [my book] will be read by all, but I wrote it for everyone... Social problems go beyond borders. The sores of the human race, these running sores that cover the globe, don’t stop at red or blue lines drawn on the map. Wherever men are ignorant and desperate, wherever women sell themselves for bread, wherever children suffer for want of instruction or a warm hearth, Les Misérables knocks on the door and says, ‘Open up, I have come for you.’”

David Bellos is the author of The Novel of the Century: The Extraordinary Adventure of Les Misérables (Penguin £10.99). Les Misérables starts on BBC1 on Dec 30 at 9pm; Dominic West is interviewed in the Magazine next Sunday

‘The Glums’: a potted history

● The full text of Les Misérables in the right order of reading was not available to British readers until 2008, in a version by the Australian writer Julie Rose.

● In 1897, the Lumière brothers shot a one-minute reel of a quick-change artist masquerading as Hugo, Valjean, Thénardier, Marius and Javert. This was the first time fiction had ever appeared on celluloid film.

● Victor Hugo’s wife, Adèle, operated as publicity manager for the novel’s launch. She created a poster campaign featuring illustrations of the main characters, making the novel’s imminent appearance known long before its publication. Nothing like that had been done before. She also had announcements prepared for newspapers and requested that they were held back from publication until she gave the signal, making Les Misérables probably the first work launched under embargo.

● When Hugo was ready to publish Les Misérables in 1862, he secured the publishing deal of all time: in today’s terms, he was paid about £3m as an advance on a contract allowing the publisher Albert Lacroix to print the book for just eight years. Lacroix had to get a huge bank loan to finance the book.

● Charles Dickens met Hugo in Paris in 1847, visiting his splendid apartment on Place Royale. There is not a trace of the event in Hugo’s records, which suggests the British author didn’t make a strong impression on the literary star of his day. In Dickens’s eyes, though, Hugo looked “like the Genius he was”.

● Hugo’s contemporaries weren’t all taken with his novel: “This book is written for catholico-socialist shitheads and for the philosophico-evangelical ratpack,” Gustave Flaubert wrote to a friend.

● When Hugo fled France in 1851, both his sons were in prison and Louis-Napoléon — Napoléon III — was his sworn enemy. “Because we had Napoléon le Grand, do we have to have Napoléon le Petit?” he quipped.

● Les Misérables has been adapted for radio and cinema more times than any other novel.

● Classical literary French had a restricted vocabulary. Racine got by with about 2,000 words. Hugo uses about 20,000 different words in the 630,000 words of the text of Les Misérables — maybe as many as in all of Shakespeare working in English, which has a much larger vocabulary in the first place.

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/magazine/culture/can-the-bbcs-les-miserables-do-justice-to-victor-hugos-epic-novel-50wtqgvdj?t=ie

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #articles #David Bellos #victor hugo #spoilers #episode 1

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domesticangel · 6 years ago

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ok ive been wanting to do an OC redraw/redesign for a while now and uh, well here it is !!! top is obv the revamp and bottom is these three’s original designs ,,, the bottom pic is 9 years old (holy smokes) so i made them during my middle school emo/scene phase when i was like 12 so thats why they're.........Like That lmao but left to right in both pics is jude, elliot, and skipper!!! this was? so fun honestly

ummm lots of info/backstory about them under the cut lol

so in the original pic/designs… if I remember correctly jude and skipper were in police academy training to be cops and elliot was some punk ass kid theyd end up seeing around a lot cause he was in and out of holding for Delinquent Things, and ofc they magically became friends. Im pretty sure they were all 16/17 when I first made them which makes no sense at all (teen cops??? Ok) but like when ur 12, teenagers are Practically Adults BUT none of that is Canon TM anymore. In their redesign they range from early to late 20’s; I usually peg jude around 26-27, elliot is probably 23-24, and skipper is 21.

jude was the very first oc I ever made so shes always had a special place in my heart… I started churning out rapid fire ocs when I was in middle school that id toss when I was bored with em but shes the one that always stuck around!! Shes been a big honkin lesbian ever since her conception, so id use her a lot to express BabyGay feelings I didn’t really know how else to process. design wise I kinda just simplified her look; I have no fucking clue why she used to have an eyepatch and cat ears (I mean, I do, its because I was a weeb) but I got rid of those along with the scene hair and gave her longer hair with more natural waves and some freckles from spending a lot of time in the sun. her gray eyes and hair were always kind of her signature, so those got to stay! She mostly just wears anything that’s easy enough to move around and get work done in; tank tops, loose long skirts, etc. think futch hippy. anyways jude is now just a simple plant witch who uses her skills and connection with the elements to run a modest local farm, and even though shes fairly content in her lifestyle, she wants nothing more than a gf/wife that she can work hard to give a good life to :3c shes a hopeless romantic and has a bad habit of falling a little bit in love with every woman she meets, but shes mad shy when it comes to flirting, so more often than not shes just a sweaty ball of pining and infatuation. Whenever shes feeling some type of way about a girl she either obsessively takes on projects around the farm or house to distract herself or rants to her plants about how shes too afraid to express her feelings. RIP useless lesbian jude. Anyway shes the oldest of the trio, so shes very protective of elliot and skipper in a mother hen kind of way. She gets embarrassed when she realizes shes lecturing them like a cranky old maid, but they secretly don’t really mind it and often come to her for general life advice. I think her sign would be Taurus :3c (and probably an air moon since she’s kind of a space cadet)

elliot was REALLY FUN to redesign bc I honestly just wanted him to look like one of those people who had a HUGE scene phase way back when and just… never completely grew out of it lmao so I gave him the two-tone mullet he deserves, grown out roots hes definitely not gonna bother to re-bleach and re-dye, and piercing scars under his lip from where he used to have some tacky ass snakebites that he probably had to take out to get a job or something lol. he couldn’t completely give up piercings though, so the labret and gauges got to stay. Dudes not COMPLETELY stuck in 2007, but he does still enjoy a lot of the OG emo/punk bands and the fantasy of making it big in his own band and touring the country in a fashionably clunky van. He doesn’t exactly have a band, but hes working on that. Hes halfway decent on vocals and a guitar so he spends a lot of time combing through the local college town he lives and works in in hopes of finding some people who’d wanna play some gigs with him. But in the mean time, he works as a barista in a local café, which usually hooks him up by letting him do some acoustic sets at night every now and again. Hes a very warm and upbeat person, and will happily engage and talk the ear off of anyone close enough for him to do so, stranger or otherwise. He also regularly reminds jude and skipper how much he loves both of them and how glad he is that theyre all friends; He doesn’t really have much in the way of embarrassment or apprehension when it comes to what hes feeling. Hes the official unofficial “plan-maker” of the friend group and is able to bring them all together for quality time, because hes not at all passive like jude or skipper, and… usually has the most free time out of all of them lol. elliot is pure Leo and that’s about all there is to that

And finally, congratulations to skipper, who against all odds, looked normal enough that I didn’t really have to change anything at all about his design! Just had to ditch the uniform for your typical Tired Gay mustard sweaters. Skipper is an English major in his sophomore year of college who, like most people in their 20’s in liberal arts programs, is desperately trying to figure out what he wants out of life and also doesn’t know what sleeping or self-care is. He really enjoys writing, but doesn’t really know if he wants to do it for a living or if he even could. He grew up with pretty cold and distant parents, so on top of knowing they don’t really approve of his major, he pretty much always operates under the assumption that if hes not working himself to death hes not justifying the space hes taking up or the air hes breathing. Emotionally speaking hes more emo than elliot will ever be and his blood is probably 75% caffeine. He having kind of a rough time tbh but hes gritting it out in hopes that things become more clear eventually. He’d be way worse off if he didn’t have jude or elliot, who hes more thankful for than he can ever bring himself to express. They were essentially his first real, close friends, and despite skipper being incapable of asking for help, they always seem to know when he needs someone to talk to or even just a brief distraction; Jude has an open door policy for her farm and will let him come over and cuddle some rabbits or sit and talk over tea on her porch whenever he needs to, and elliot cant remember the last time hes made skipper pay for anything he ordered from the café, or the last time he even had to ask skipper what he wanted. Because hes the youngest of the three its sometimes their instinct to protect him, which embarrasses skipper out of his mind, but he knows they mean well. Hes the physical embodiment of Just Doing His Best and is a stone cold Capricorn

They’re still besties but basically met just from living in the same town; jude and elliot met when jude started providing the café’s local roast from the coffee beans she grew on her farm so elliot saw her fairly regularly and of course was like Oh Friend? Jude always liked how forthcoming elliot was as it complimented her generally reserved nature, and elliot always thought living on a farm and growing your own food was pretty punk rock and therefore pretty dang cool in his book. They both got to know skipper because he came to the café every. single. day. to ingest ungodly amounts of espresso and study all day, and when elliot took an interest in skipper, jude suggested he invite him to one of his gigs since the poor guy kinda looked like he needed a break. Skipper initially kind of politely shot elliot down, but jude took a chance and found skipper later to tell him how much itd mean to elliot, and that if it made him feel better she’d go with him, since going to events like this was different for her too. skipper apprehensively agreed at that point, and the rest is history !!! they all kinda hit it off after that

tl;dr

#art #oc #original character #i even named the redraw frensiswhenyouhaveabud.jpeg #i think about this sentence almost daily #jude #elliot #skipper #redraw

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