#sitting on him like my life depends on jt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myelocin · 4 years ago

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synopsis: sakusa, the only constant in your life was the love that taught you two was enough. life, on the other hand, teaches you that in the unpredictability of things, a serendipity is bound to redefine the things you’ve considered as truth your whole life.

characters: sakusa kiyoomi, you, +bonus character!

genre: fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort, domestic/firstlove to marriage au, parenting!au, mentions of adoption, tw//mentions of abandonment & death

wc: 6.5k

a/n: um so this was a plot for makki but i am a joke, so here we have sakusa once again, and no, for once this isn’t an angst. | playlist: symmetry (JT Roach) ((atm not that edited lol))

“It’s cold,” you say and Sakusa’s quick to wrap his scarf around your neck.

Each time he does, you consider it as a win. Sakusa was never one to particularly prefer excessive public displays of affection, but more often times than he’d like, you always manage to catch him in moments he was feeling a little more relaxed.

Autumn, Sakusa thinks just may be his most favorite season by far. Something about the chill in the air, slightly emptier streets, and the changing colors of the leaves did just the trick to make the lengthy walks from school to train station a little more bearable.

And of course, Sakusa smiles, another reason was you.

“It’s cold,” you’d tell him time and time again, especially during the final weeks of November where the last few leaves were threatening to fall as winter slowly rolled around. He knew you kept your own scarf tucked deep inside your school bag, under the notebooks where you scrawl some notes from the board in the margins at best, and beside the empty bento box that you always share with him during lunch.

But despite that, he’d only sigh before looping the dark green scarf he washes multiple times a week snug around your neck.

“You really need to start bringing your scarf,” he’d tell you, adding some comments as an afterthought that sounded more muffled under his mask, but you’d only beam at him in response.

You know he never minded.

And you’re glad he doesn’t—because after school walks with Sakusa Kiyoomi in the late autumn, who also happened to be your first friend and your first love, was your favorite perk in the season.

Sakusa, who you’ve known for most of your life. The kid from down the block who chose to walk around the rain puddles when everyone else around his age—at the time—only sought to hop straight into them.

“Why don’t you play in the rain puddles?” you remember yourself asking, opting to stand across him from the other side of the puddle as you watched him furrow his brows together and step away from the edge where water met concrete.

“I don’t want my grandma to spend extra time cleaning my rain boots,” was his reply, and you can still—to this day—recall the determined look on Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eight year old face as nodded his head at his own answer and moved even further away from the puddle.

The two little moles above his eyebrow looked like the connect the dots, well, dots, from your activity book back home and it was then that you decided to make it your mission to befriend the cautious boy who avoided puddles because he loved his grandmother.

And it worked, you suppose, because more than ten years down the road, instead of walking around the puddles on the pavement, you spend your afternoons either watching him spike through blocks after school, or like now—tell him that you’re cold, when in truth all you wanted to do was just be warm in his warmth.

“Did you change the fabric softener?” you ask him, smelling something like peaches and cream instead of his usual scent of fresh linen.

“I did,” Sakusa hums. “Do you not like it?” he asks, but doesn’t really face you. He faces forward and watches for the pedestrian light to flicker back to green, so he watches the number count down as he waits for your response to his question.

“I like it,” you smile, pushing the fabric up against your face as you hide your smile behind the scent of peaches.

“Ah, that’s good to know,” Sakusa replies, almost immediately. He thinks about the crinkled receipt from your favorite boutique at the mall sitting between the pages of his textbook and decides that going through the awkward conversation with the salesladies gushing about how sweet of a boyfriend he is, was completely worth it.

But more so, he’s almost glad that like the receipt you didn’t see—you also don’t notice the way he’s already smiling under the mask.

“It’s cold,” you tell him almost seven years later, the smile on your face still as teasing as before, as you wait for him to open his arms for an embrace this time instead of just the scarf from before.

Peaches, Sakusa thinks. Your hair still smells like peaches after all these years. On the other hand, he can’t really bring himself to mind; he thinks he’s come around to realize that peaches are his favorite flavor now.

“When are you not cold?” Sakusa comments, the tone of his voice sounding a little clipped, but you only laugh in return. Despite the bark in his voice, he tightens his arms around you as you glance up, peeking at him huffing clouds into the winter air.

“What time’s the bus coming?” you ask, breaking away from him and opting to hug him from the side instead. He still feels warm, so you smile and press your cheek against the sleeve of his jacket.

“In about ten minutes,” he answers. “Could be a while though, if there’s a lot coming on and off depending on the stop.”

“Wanna wait inside the café?” he suggests, motioning towards the one right across the street.

You shake your head, letting go of his arm and wrapping your hands around his midriff instead, saying, “I’m warm right now so it’s okay.”

Beneath his mask, he smiles—and looking at him, this time you could tell. You’ve been with him long enough to notice the way the corners of his eyes crinkle every time he smiles.

Sakusa realizes he likes looking at you like that, and the moments he shares with you after every time you say you’re cold are quick to become his favorite.

You, with your sheepish smiles, fruit themed keychains, and love for the autumn weather.

He smiles, watching you as you take the seat closest to the window first before quickly wiping the seat he’s meant to take with the disinfectant wipes you keep in your bag.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, feeling his heart warm even more when you smile at him.

For him, it’s not the way you remember the little things about him, but rather, it’s the unspoken way you go on about it. The almost natural flow you pulled him into, that he just knows you outlined with nothing but consideration.

You liked jumping straight for the puddles, but he preferred watching you smile with his rain boots dry. He knew you preferred to drink your coffee with a little more cream and sugar than he did, and even if he didn’t mind sweeter drinks from time to time—he always appreciates you asking how much cream and sugar he’d like for his regardless.

And it worked the same for you, you realize.

In silence, you notice how Sakusa always spends a second longer to look at you every time you pull out the wipes you keep in your bag just for him, and feel your heart warm when he laces your hand together afterwards.

You knew well enough that he preferred to keep his hands to himself, but the exceptions he makes for you were always appreciated on your end.

“I know I can be a little much sometimes,” he told you once, some years ago, when you were at the stage in your relationship where it felt safe to be with each other in complete vulnerability.

“I don’t mind,” you told him, because the truth was you really didn’t—and still don’t—mind. “You’re just a little more cautious than some, and that’s okay.”

“You being a little more on the cautious side isn’t all there is to you, Omi,” was the last thing you said as you cupped his face in between your hands.

And to this day, you don’t forget the way his eyes soften with the thanks he whispers as he turns his head and kisses you on the palm of your hand that night.

“We should make something for dinner tonight instead of eating out,” you quip next to him. You watch the people on the streets walk when the bus slows, and blur when it picks up momentum again. You hold Sakusa’s hand in between yours, absentmindedly playing with his fingers and the sleeve of his coat.

“Sounds good,” you hear him answer, before adding, “do we need to stop by the grocery store?”

You think about it, your eyes focusing on the child outside your window, lollipop in hand and a Totoro backpack behind him, as you mentally go over what you remembered what you saw in your refrigerator that morning.

“I think we’re all good,” you say. “But we can pick up some fruit for dessert?”

Sakusa doesn’t really think about it; he just nods. He could always go for some peaches, he supposes.

When the scenery outside begins to blur again, you turn to face his hand outstretched on your lap and begin to lightly scratch his open palm, then slyly look to the side where he’s facing you, watching for a change in his expression.

There isn’t one; if anything, he stares at you with his brow raised.

“Does it not tickle?” you huff, holding his palm open and tracing over the middle with the tip of your nails instead.

“No,” he answers and you huff, pursing your lips before you ultimately decide to just lace your fingers through his instead. Sakusa squeezes your hand when you slot yours on top of his, and you turn to him, smiling.

“Love you,” you say, and even if you do so out of the blue, Sakusa chooses to smile. With his other hand, he pulls his mask down and leans towards you to press a kiss on your cheek, noticing how the skin’s a little cold compared to his lips.

“Love you too,” he murmurs and when you turn to him and give him another smile—the one that’s wide enough for him to make out the crinkling lines on the corners of your eyes, an epiphany strikes him.

He loves you.

Sakusa’s struck with the epiphany that he’s never been more in love with you than how he feels in this very moment.

But he realizes a second later, that he’s had this thought before too.

Yesterday, when he woke up before you and the alarm and spent the seven minutes before 07:30 admiring how beautiful you looked with the spilled light highlighting the plains of your face. Last month, when he came home early from practice and watched you slightly dance off beat in the kitchen to the tune of a song he recalls you singing in the shower that same morning. Seven years ago, when he noticed you always packing an extra pair of chopsticks and pieces of fruit in your bento box for you to share with him during lunch.

Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that even if the two of you were nothing short of being the personification of oil and water, as time moves forward, he only spends the twenty four hours of his day unearthing moments with you where he feels his heart so full that it seems like he can’t love you any more than he does in the moment.

Looking down at your hands where your left is intertwined with his right, he smiles. Sakusa thinks of the ring he remembers you commenting was pretty when you were at the mall a few weeks ago. He imagines how your hand would look with the ring he knows he’ll buy for you.

Then when you squeeze his hand, briefly turning at him with a smile as you point at the child outside with raccoon-themed backpack, Sakusa feels a familiar warmth flood his chest as his eyes zeroes in on you as he feels himself smile.

He wonders if the smile you have now would look the same when you see the ring he’ll hold out for you when he does so with one knee on the ground.

And even if the ground were to have puddles that day, he supposes it would be worth it.

It’s three years later, after a breathless “yes,” tearful “I do,” and keys to your first house where he hears you say “It’s too cold,” again.

It’s the middle of the winter when you walk out the door, meaning to stop by the convenience store nearby when you make it outside the gate of your home and see a child standing outside with a dull gray backpack and while he wears a too thin cardigan.

Sakusa sets his cup down, looks at you frantically calling him to come to the door, and grabs his coat and scarf as he makes his way to you.

When he walks out of the door and makes it in front of the gate, he sees you, squatting a little awkwardly in front of the child—who doesn’t look to be more than the age of even five— stare at you with the grey backpack pressed to his chest and a slight tremble to his form.

He recognizes the look on your face—and he knows that right at this moment your heart is already clenching.

“Where’s your mama?” you ask with a voice as gentle as your approach, and Sakusa decides to sit this one out as he stands behind you instead, leaning against the opened corner of the gate.

“She said I have to stay here,” he murmurs quietly, and when his body trembles again, Sakusa feels his fingers itch to wrap the scarf around him. You’re right—it is too cold for a child to be out in a weather like this.

“Did she go somewhere? What about your papa?” you ask again, deciding to maintain your distance when the child in front of you begins to sniffle and tear up.

“I don’t have a papa,” he whispers, then sniffles again. “But I have a mama and she said she’ll be back so I’ll stay right here!” he finishes, puffing his cheeks in what you think is an attempt to keep the tears together.

You look at Sakusa, who stares at you looking equally unsure with what to do with the situation, but when he notices that you’re at a point where you’re at a loss of words, he chimes in for you. “How long have you been out here?”

Smiling, you shift to the side and listen as Sakusa’s voice softens when he addresses the child again. He’d make a great father, you think.

“Here since…” the child trails off, then looks up when he remembers something. “—since after breakfast!”

Your brows furrow, and when you look at Sakusa, you notice that his expression mirrors yours. “Breakfast?” you hear Sakusa repeat, then look at the watch on your wrist. “It’s already five pm.”

“Have you eaten at all?” Sakusa instead asks him, and your heart can only squeeze again when he shakes his head no.

“You said your mama just went to the convenience store, right? I’m on my way to go there so if I see someone maybe it’s her,” you say and the boy finally looks at you like he isn’t scared.

“Can you tell me your name? So she can recognize who I’m talking about,” you ask him again and he nods his head slowly before replying, “Arai Kazue,” with a small bow afterwards.

You smile; he’s still polite despite being scared.

“Do you wanna wait inside? It’s warm, and this uncle—“ you pause, gesturing towards Sakusa, “—can cook something so you can eat.”

His eyes brighten for a second, before he looked back down towards his shoes. “What if mama is on her way back, I don’t want her to worry.”

You check the time, glancing up towards Sakusa who only shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll be quick then,” you reassure him, and he bows again after a quiet thank you.

Kazue shivers again, and before you could unwrap your own scarf, Sakusa is already squatting down next to you, wrapping the boy in familiar fabric.

“It’s cold,” Sakusa says, and bundles up the boy under more layers.

“She’s not at the 7/11, or the two Family Marts on the other street,” you tell Sakusa when you made it home.

It’s a little past six pm by now, and you’re at least thankful that your husband had managed to convince Kazue to wait for her inside after sticking a note outside their gate that would tell the mother��if she came—that he was inside waiting for her.

“Has he said anything?” you ask, and sigh when Sakusa shakes his head no.

“Do you think….?” you ask, trailing off and lowering the volume of your voice even more when you look at Kazue sitting in the living room, a bowl of ramen in front of him as he watches the television play a show you only skipped past in that respective channel.

“That she left him there on purpose?” he finishes for you, and you sigh, suddenly feeling like your shoulders are as heavy as the weight of the possibility in your husband’s words.

“Maybe,” you sigh, not really looking forward to uncover the truth because of all the red flags already popping up in the situation. “We should just call the police,” he suggests and you nod in agreement, deciding that for the moment that really was just your only option.

The maybe, you referred to moments ago was later confirmed to just be the case because when Kazue later opens his backpack to show you the superhero he drew last night in his drawing book, a letter tumbles out before the book.

“Can I take a look at this?” you ask him, holding up the folded piece of paper with writing that clearly didn’t look like his, and he nods, before turning to face Sakusa as he flips through the pages of his drawing book.

You meet Sakusa’s eyes midway, and he nods for you to read the contents of the letter before he faces Kazue again, expression knit together like he was leaning something new.

“I’m sorry,” it reads, and it isn’t specifically addressed to anybody. “I can’t take care of him anymore,” it continues and your heart practically drops as you continue to skim through the sentences forming one after the other.

You notice the lines on the paper are smooth instead of soft; not a crinkle in the edges, or smudges on the ink. She’s been planning this, you notice, and when you look at Kazue who beams at Sakusa’s patient smile, your heart clenches even more.

“I know you and your husband haven’t had a child yet, and I don’t know if you’re even trying for one, but I know the both of you will be well enough to take care of Kazue.”

“I have no one else, and when I leave, he will have no one else.”

“He’s a kind boy,” it reads towards the end, and this is where you notice the strokes of the letters beginning to look a little more inconsistent.

“He eats his vegetables well, and he listens to his elders.”

You think about the empty bowl on your sink and remember Sakusa’s comment about how surprised he was that a child at his age actually managed to finish the variety of vegetables he knows even adults have trouble keeping down.

“I know I’m not in a good space to take care of him like he deserves, and I’m at a point in my life where I can’t continue,” you further read and your stomach drops when the next line ends.

“If you accept him, thank you, but if this situation just happened to burden you, then I’m sorry.”

Sakusa looks at you when you fold the letter back and choose to keep it in your hand instead of tucking it back into Kazue’s backpack. The zipper’s ripped off, you notice, and the straps look as worn as the scratches on the front pocket.

They must have had a tougher life, you think, and when Sakusa looks at you looking like he’s waiting for answers, you stay quiet because you don’t really know what to say.

By the time Kazue’s asleep in the guest room of your house, first you think about how plain the covers of the guest bed look next to the opened drawing book laid at the foot of the bed, all the colors of the rainbow looking like life against the white sheets behind it.

Then second, you think about the officer’s words that’s still ringing in your ear.

“We found a body by the river,” he said. “We recovered a wallet with a photo of that boy inside,” he continues, and it’s 01:09 in the morning when the weight in your heart overwhelms you and you finally begin to cry.

Much like the both of you expected, the weeks after that day didn’t come easy. Kazue, much like his mother said in the letter, really is a kind boy. He listened to his elders and patiently waited for them to finish speaking before he added some comments of his own.

Even as you watched him listen to the officer scramble for words to explain the reality of his situation, he told them thank you for finding his mama before turning around and crying.

The investigation happened quickly, and it surprised you when Sakusa was quick to offer that Kazue was welcome to stay in the house during the process, seeing as none of the extended family members the police reached out to bother to respond.

“Are you looking to adopt?” was a question the officer automatically asked, and you could feel Kazue’s form stiffen in between you and Sakusa.

“We can take care of the costs for her funeral,” Sakusa instead replies, and when the officer looks at you in shock at the offer, you only nod your head.

“Thank you,” Kazue later says in the car ride home. He’s quiet afterwards, and Sakusa chooses to leave the car in silence as you continue to drive through the city, choosing to stop by the bakery on the way home to buy the cupcakes you saw doodled in the margin of Kazue’s sketchbook.

“What kind of cupcake would you like, Kazue?” you ask, turning around as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

He perks up in his seat behind you, fiddling with the buckle of his seatbelt as he puffs his cheeks and tells you, “It’s okay, I can eat whatever you pick.”

Sakusa beside you softens, then says, “You should go in with her so you can see what they have and pick out the one you like the most.”

“Can I?” he asks, looking at you, and you smile, slipping on your scarf as you push the car open. “Let’s go,” you call and Kazue clicks the buckle of his seatbelt, following in your suit.

“Make sure to put your scarf on,” Sakusa reminds, gesturing to the scarf he bought for him that morning. Sakusa smiles when he loops it around his neck, counting to three just like he taught him earlier, and tells him thank you, before opening the door and grabbing your hand as you walk to the entrance.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, Sakusa lets himself sit for a while in the moment. For now, the heater in the car feels warm against his skin, and the smile on Kazue’s face as he grabs your hand and walks into the adequately lit bakery is bright. Then he looks at you, soft smiles and patient eyes as you hold the door open for him to walk through.

Sakusa thinks it kind of looks like home.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” you ask Sakusa a week after Kazue’s mother was laid to rest.

You sit in your side of the bed, keeping your voice hushed despite Kazue staying in the room on the other side of the house. Sakusa walks out of the bathroom, grey sweatpants and a plain blue tee on, before he takes a seat on his side.

He thinks back to the boy, at how red his face looked as he cried into your shoulder while you carried him back to the car after the burial. Then, at the drawing of the three of you Kazue shyly presented during dinner earlier that night.

“The police are probably coordinating with the people that will take him in,” he answers you after taking some time to think about your question.

“Didn’t none of the relatives call back? And isn’t his father already gone too?”

“Yeah,” Sakusa sighs, pressing his fingers to his temple, choosing not to look at you when he notices the urgency your tone gives away. In a way, he already knew of the question you were unintentionally leading up to.

“Kazue will probably be in foster care or the orphanage,” Sakusa finishes and beside him, you feel your heart already drop.

“Is the system going to be good for him?” you ask, turning your head so that your eyes meet Sakusa’s profile.

“I don’t know,” Sakusa answers, and truthfully, you aren’t even certain yourself if you want to know the answer.

“He’s just a child,” you say and Sakusa looks at you, sighing before he nods his head.

“Too young,” he murmurs and with that you put the book down and shuffle closer to him, watching with baited breath as you spill the thoughts in your head.

“Should we take him in?” you say quietly, and Sakusa’s eyes are quick to meet yours upon yours words.

“You mean adopt him?” he says a little quietly, the hesitation in his voice being the first tone you automatically pick up.

“I don’t want him to feel like he’s going to be left behind again,” you answer, truthfully, sighing as you recognize the undertone in your husband’s voice. Sakusa, for as long as you knew him was a man who practiced caution.

He was, is, and judging from this moment, will always be the one in the relationship to heed to practicality and reason instead of just flowing with the current. Like you’re doing now, you suppose.

“He’s been with us for less than a month, (y/n),” Sakusa tells you, his reminder not more than a whisper and it’s the softness and truth in them that finally gets you to see things from his perspective.

“The world is going to break him,” you say, and when you think back to Kazue smiling at you as he tells you thank you for the cupcakes you buy every other night—that’s when you finally feel the sadness spill from your eyes.

“He’s a kind boy,” Sakusa whispers when he opens his arms and lets you crawl into his side. “He’s tough enough to get through things.”

“The world isn’t kind,” you mutter against his chest, and despite Sakusa rubbing circles on your back to soothe the cries, he feels like he’s still at a loss for words.

Then when he goes to sleep that night, Sakusa dreams of empty sketchbooks and thin cardigans in winter weather.

He ceases to find rest that night.

“Why don’t you go out and play with the others?” you suggest, leaning down to Kazue’s height as you point to the playground not too far off. “Uncle Omi and I will be able to watch you from here.”

Kazue looks at you like he’s unsure of what to respond, then for a second lets go of your hand before deciding to reach forward and grasp it again.

“Last night was too rainy,” he says and you look at him, confused. Sakusa, beside you, does the same.

“Too many puddles on the ground,” Kazue explains, then looks down as he rocks himself to and fro with the balls of his feet. You smile; Kazue looks as cute in the yellow raincoat and matching rain boots Sakusa bought for him as he does wearing the raccoon themed backpack he shyly pointed to at the mall some days ago.

“Of course there are puddles, Kazue, it was raining last night,” you smile, letting go of his hand as you walk forward and lightly hop in the puddle.

Sakusa smiles as he watches you—it kind of feels like he’s looking at a page in the past.

But beside him, Kazue isn’t. Instead, he walks towards Sakusa and holds onto the edge of his coat as he continues to shake his head no.

“I know that Uncle doesn’t like when the things you have are too dirty,” Kazue begins; beside him, Sakusa looks down, eyebrows drawn together.

“He bought me these nice clothes so I don’t wan’ to get them dirty,” he finishes, smiling at Sakusa when he looks up at catches his eye.

“Thank you!” he says again, and you watch, with your heart somewhere between bursting and melting as your husband wordlessly ruffles Kazue’s hair and holds out his hand for him to take.

Your heart hurts, you realize. Because after today, Kazue would only be a name you’ll relate to your past.

“You’re going to a new home,” you had to explain to him slowly, and it hurt to tell him that because in the guest room—no his room—that he’d been staying at, were the drawings of the superheroes you’d listen to him talk about night after night, portraits of smiling faces he said were of you, Sakusa, and his mother stuck to the wall behind his bed.

For the month he’d been staying with you, the “Tadaima,” you or Sakusa would call out when you arrived would be answered by Kazue’s quiet “Okaeri,” as he met you by the genkan.

“A new home?” he’d asked, and while you excused yourself to allow for Sakusa to explain the situation, you listened from the other side of the door with your hand shaking over your mouth.

“You’ll meet your new parents that way,” Sakusa explained, his voice sounding like he was in between uncertainty and despair.

It wasn’t easy, you think, telling a child who was abandoned and lost his mother in the same day that he’d be going back somewhere unfamiliar again—but you suppose between you and your husband, Sakusa was the one better suited to explain the situation.

“I know they won’t be new parents,” Kazue replied and as you peeked back in the room you see Sakusa staring at him with wide eyes as a silent response.

“They’ll just take care of me for now, and that’s okay. I’m still lucky,” he finishes and the conversation ended just like that.

“He’s gonna be okay,” this time you tell Sakusa as you notice his expression shift in time with his hand ever so slightly tightening around Kazue’s.

You notice everything. Sakusa’s conflicted, much like you were—still are—but this, this was the best you could do for him.

Having kids was never included in you and Sakusa’s plan from the start. Life before, with the two of you had always been enough, and while the two of you never let go of the insatiable hunger for life—you knew that your thirst for it would be quenched with just the two of you.

Until life, ironically the very thing you were chasing, decided to give the both of you something it knew you would flow with.

“Always remember to bundle up, okay?” you remind Kazue when you make it in front of the entrance with who you assumed to be the caretaker standing by the door. Sakusa watches Kazue watch you, the boy’s happiness spilling as warmth into his cheeks as his lips break out into a smile as he nods along to your reminders.

“Thank you,” Kazue says again—and Sakusa internally tries to recall the amount of times he’s said his thanks to the both of you that day. He loses count after he hit fifteen.

“I won’t get these dirty because I’ll take care of them,” He tells Sakusa, gesturing to the things he has with him then gives him a smile when he squats down and faces him eye to eye.

Then when Kazue puffs his cheeks and leans forward wrapping his arms around Sakusa’s neck for an embrace, you watch, feeling the familiar throb of your heart return tenfold. You meet his smiling eyes as he opens them, and when he stretches his hand out for you, you squat down behind Sakusa and kiss Kazue’s forehead.

“Be kind, okay?” you tell him and he nods his head, the smile on his face never leaving.

Sakusa stays still, only moving when he feels Kazue part with him.

Cold, Sakusa thinks, he feels a little cold.

And it’s only thirty minutes after walking into Kazue’s new “home” where Sakusa feels the chills run through him again. He’s watching Kazue be introduced to the new children in the living room with you beside him, the caretaker’s words coming in one ear and floating out the other in seconds.

The guest room, or Kazue’s room as he thinks of it, will still have the drawings he pinned to the wall behind his bed when he comes home. He thinks of the totoro themed comforter you bought for him and the fact that it will still look as neat as Kazue left it earlier that morning.

His mind plays back dinner from the night before, and how warm his home felt when the three of you ate the dinner he cooked with the too many vegetables on the side, then laughed over the smudged chocolate frosting that you wiped on the corner of his lips as Kazue smiled at you both.

The room he sees him standing in now feels cold, and when he sees Kazue shiver and clutch the raccoon backpack to his chest he feels like the very same scene from the month before is replaying right in front of him.

Sakusa thinks he hears your voice, when you tell the woman that’s been explaining the process next to you for a little over twenty minutes now say “thank you,” and “we’ll get going now,” register in his head before he feels his feet already taking strides for him.

“Kazue,” Sakusa says, and when the boy turns and looks at him, that’s when he notices how quiet the room’s gotten.

From your spot, you look at him, unsure of exactly how to proceed because Sakusa—if anything, was never as unpredictable as this.

“We’re going home,” you hear him say, and your grip on the strap of your bag tightens.

“Home?” Kazue echoes and Sakusa’s heart clenches when he hears the yearning in the boy’s voice.

“Yeah, we can have dinner again, like last night,” you listen to Sakusa say, and your heart is suddenly overflowing with everything you’ve held back. Sakusa’s smiling again—and you know his heart is in the same state, because his voice softens even more.

“Just for tonight?” Kazue asks, a little unsure.

“Every night,” Sakusa answers, and just like that you know that when you go home that night—you truly will be home.

- “Mama, you really need to wear a scarf,” Kazue huffs as you walk with him to the entrance of your front door.

You nod at his words and wave him off with the yes, you’ve been responding to his every reminder for the past twelve years now. Kazue—your son—looks at you with the same softness in his eyes as ten years ago when he finally made it home.

“I’m serious,” he laughs, before leaning forward and letting you fasten the buttons on his winter coat.

Kazue grew up, with the roots of his personality remaining unchanged. He’s a kind boy, you think to yourself every day. When he turned seven and made Sakusa wait in the car so he could help the grandmother cross the street. When he was ten, and somehow persuaded your husband to let him keep and nurse the stray cat from your neighborhood back to health. And at seventeen—the now, as you listened to him talk about how he was going to lead his team into nationals.

“You remember what your dad told you?” you ask, smiling as he nods and points to Sakusa from inside, hollering “thanks dad!” with a laugh.

“I’d say I have the perks of having a national athlete as a father, but really, dad’s just that good of a coach.”

You smile, leaning to the side as you hear Sakusa’s footsteps grow closer and closer until you felt his presence right behind you. Leaning back to his chest, you kiss his jaw as a hello, laughing when Kazue groans at the “PDA”.

“We’ll make it to your game later, but have a good time in school,” you hear him say and Kazue nods as he fastens the zipper of his bag and waves at the both of you.

“Love you!” he calls out, walking down the steps and out the gate.

“We love you,” you murmur, your heart filling with the familiar sense of pride as you watch him leave, his dad’s jersey number on his back.

“It’s cold,” Sakusa says, then kisses the crown of your head when you turn to face him. “We should head back inside.”

Smiling, you tug the blanket closer to yourself as you answer, “It’s alright. I think I’ll stay here a bit.”

“Something on your mind?” Sakusa asks, closing the door behind him and taking a seat on the bench beside you in your front porch. Like habit, he takes the scarf from around his neck and loops it around you with a smile, ignoring the way you pat his wrist as if to tell him don’t bother.

“It’s cold,” he laughs, and you roll your eyes knowing that he mostly does it now because of the sentiment it holds for the both of you.

“Home always feels warm, though,” you answer, and Sakusa only nods at your words, the corners of his own lips stretching into a smile like yours.

“We kind of went off the plan we originally had,” you laugh after some silence passed.

“Do you regret it?” he asks, tone even because he already knows the answer to the very question he posed.

“Of course not,” you smile. “I knew we never planned on having kids of our own, but Kazue’s a blessing.”

“He is,” Sakusa replies, smiling at the thought of his son.

His son, he likes to think of it. The memory of Kazue calling him dad for the first time never fails to make warmth spill from his heart.

Watching the smile bloom wider from his profile, you clasp your hand over his and watch as the light from the winter sun catches the band on his left ring finger.

His ring—the one matching the one on your left remained the same, and while your thoughts of the future are completely opposite to the ones you envisioned from before—you realize that this was the grand plan from the heavens all along.

And there isn’t one thing that you’d change about it.

So when Sakusa looks at you, saying, “We did good,” the happiness in your heart overflows and spills into your cheeks as tears.

“We did,” you respond, the sincerity in your voice assuring Sakusa that you really, truly do mean it.

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rebelwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Restoration

Jax Teller x Daughter Reader

“You gonna actually behave for your father this week?” You mum asked as you packed your bag.

“Maybe, depends if he pisses me off or not” you shrugged.

The thing was your mum and dad split about 4 years ago, a year after Abel was born. They had you at a young age, at 15 to be precise, you was now 18 and had seen their relationship completely fall apart, you saw how he treated your mum towards the end of the relationship and you hated it, you hated how he made your mum feel, how you saw the whole thing. However you were grateful Abel was still too young to understand what was going on.

“Y/N please, I know you don’t get along with him but he is your dad at the end of the day” mum sighed.

“Not gonna change my opinion on him” you laughed.

Even though your parents weren’t together anymore they never actually filed for a divorce.

“Just try” mum said placing her hand on your shoulder “for Abel at least, it’s hard enough on him as it is”

“And it’s not hard for me mum” you spat “try going through school where everyone is obsessed with the sons, constantly badgering me about them, about dad, asking if the fucking rumours are true”

You knew that your mum wasn’t completely innocent in the whole relationship break down. So you had an attitude with them both.

The drive to Teller-Morrow was silent, neither you or your mum spoke because you were your father’s daughter at the end of day, your mum always said it was like having a female Jax in the house, the way you held yourself, your attitude, your temper. So no words were spoken just for Abel’s sake, he didn’t need to see his sister and mum biting each other’s heads off.

Climbing out of the car, you grabbed your bag from the boot, before wandering off to find your uncles, at least you had a good relationship with them, it was just the relationship with your dad that was rocky.

You didn’t get it, he was such a good father to Abel, but with you it was a different story, one of his biggest regrets was you seeing the breakdown happen, all the arguments that happened when you were younger. Since then you saw the man that you once saw as your hero as the bad guy.

“Hey kiddo” Jax grinned, opening his arms to you.

“Whatever dad” you huffed walking by him, dumping your bag on the picnic bench before placing a cigarette in your mouth.

“She’s in a mood, sorry Jax” you heard mum say, making you roll your eyes. “Give her a couple of days and she should calm down”

“She’s so much like me it’s scary” he sighed as he watched you laugh with Tig and Happy.

“If you’re gonna talk about me can you at least go somewhere where I can’t bloody hear you” you snapped not looking at them.

Jax knew that with both his kids being here with him for the week, he was going to try his hardest to mend the bridges that had once been burnt. He wanted nothing more than getting his little girl back.

“I will speak with her” Jax nodded as he took Abel into his arms, who was grinning at the sight of his daddy.

At least one of his kids didn’t hate him.

However he had a plan, he knew you loved bikes, so he had one sat in the garage waiting to be restored and he was hoping it was something you could do together and then he could teach you to ride. He knew it wouldn’t magically fix the relationship but at least it would give you a memory that wasn’t bad.

Your mum had now left, which meant you were stuck with your dad for the next week, no doubt it would be a week of you looking after Abel, it always was when you were here, the club came before you. It always had and always would.

“Table in 5” Jax shouted as he walked into the club, he didn’t miss the eye roll that came from you, he knew what you thought, you had only been here 10 minutes and he was putting the club before you. But this time would be different.

“Okay so everyone knows my relationship with Y/N is very much on the rocks right now” Jax sighed running his hand over his face. “And I know it’s my fault and I want to fix that, so this week I only want to be involved in club business if the shit has hit the fan. Anything else speak to Chibs, I need to fix things with my little girl before it is too late”

Everyone nodded, they knew how much Jax loved you, you was his first born at the end of the day and it killed him knowing that you hated him.

“Anything we can do to help we are here” Happy nodded.

“Thanks Hap but this is something I need to do on my own, I created this mess so I need to fix it” Jax sighed “If it can be fixed”

It was now Wednesday and Jax still hadn’t made any progress, the bike lay untouched in the garage, and you hadn’t spoken more than a few words a day to him.

“Uncle Hap am I being a bitch?” You sighed looking up at him as you lit a smoke.

“Honestly kiddo, I know where you are coming from but he is the only dad you are gonna get” Happy said placing his hand on yours. “I know the reasons you have for hating Jax but he misses his little girl, I’m not saying forgive him straight away but stop shutting him out”

“I miss my dad” you sighed “but you didn’t hear me say that”

“My lips are sealed” Happy nodded “you know he took a step back from the club this week to spend time with you and Abel”

“I didn’t know” you sighed running your hand over your face.

“I think he wants to restore a bike or something with you” Hap smiled kissing your head “he’s in the garage”

Trudging into the garage with your head hung low, you felt guilty about how you went off at dad this morning.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled, not looking up.

You heard him sigh and his footsteps getting closer to you.

Talk about irony, the radio had started playing bad husband, scoffing as dad placed his hand on your shoulder.

You can be a liar and a good father A good dad, but a bad husband

“Guess the song is 90% right” you sighed “you are a good father to Abel at least”

“Hey look at me kiddo” Dad said lifting your chin. “My biggest regret in life was letting you see all the fights between me and your mum. I know that has done so much damage to our relationship but I never stopped loving your or your mum okay”

You stayed silent, you didn’t know what to say.

Forever be a hero in my eyes, But there’s always another side. To a good father. A great dad, but a bad husband

“Look me and your mum still love each other and we probably always will” he sighed “we just don’t work well together okay but that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you”

All I want is for us not to hurt. And it’s been an exhaustive search to find the words

The song was basically saying everything you couldn’t.

But I’m not so sure how to close this. I just don’t know how some people can be so good At one thing and so fucked at a whole ‘nother, shit, it’s no wonder

You both just stood there not saying a word as Jax pulled you into his arms holding you tight.

“I’m not saying we have to go back to being as close as we once were but I want a chance, a chance to mend the bridges I burnt, I want to be in your life and not as someone you hate” Jax whispered.

Nodding your head, you sniffed as a tear fell down your cheek, this was the most you had talked in a year. All you wanted to hear over the past year was that your dad still loved you.

“You don’t have to say anything yet sweetheart” dad whispered kissing your head “now what do you say to helping your old man fix this bike up and then I would like it if you let your old man teach you how to ride”

“I’d like that” you mumbled.

The next few days flew by and your mum had arrived to pick you and Abel up. Pushing yourself off the bench you walked over to her with a slight smile on your face.

“Come on, let’s get you home” mum said.

Glancing over to your dad you smiled softly before turning back to your mum.

“Actually mum, I think I’m gonna stick around here a bit longer” you nodded feeling Jax place his hand on your shoulder squeezing it softly. “I wanna stay with dad, we still have a bike to finish”

Your mum stood staring at you, confusion spread all over her face.

“You want to willingly stay?” She questioned

“Yup” you nodded.

“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” She laughed before turning to Jax “you okay with her staying?”

“Course I am” he beamed at the fact you wanted to stay with him longer.

As soon as you said bye to your mum, you headed back into the garage leaving Jax stood there in his own world.

“Come on dad the bike isn’t gonna fix its self” you laughed rolling your sleeves up.

The hours flew by and you was both covered in grease, Chibs walked outside hearing all the laughter coming from the garage, a smile formed on his face as he snapped a photo of the two of you before walking back into the club house.

“Okay a know normally a would bring this ta table but no one is to disturb Jackie Boy, a don’t care wha it is, if it’s club business, Ye arms fallen off or Ye are on fire, ye come ta me” Chibs smiled leaning against the bar. “Tha is until further notice, this is wha they both need”

Everyone nodded in agreement, it was nice to see you and Jax not at each other’s throats and they knew that the fact you wanted to stay here meant you really wanted to rebuild the relationship

Standing back from the bike something clicked.

“Why does this bike look so familiar?” You asked.

“Well princess it was your grandads” Jax grinned draping his arm around your shoulder.

“JT’s” you said looking up and he nodded. “Wait and you are just letting me have once we have fixed her up?”

“That’s the plan” Jax laughed “he would have wanted you to have it and it’s better than it sitting gathering dust”

You were in awe, you knew how much this bike meant to him. Wrapping your arms around him you gave him a tight hug.

Neither of you talked about much other than the bike, outside of the garage you were slowly building things back up, you both knew it would take longer than a week but it was a start.

“So your mum says you’ve been getting into trouble at college?” He asked as you were packing the tools up.

“Meh” you shrugged “someone said something, I didn’t like it so I fucking punched them and broke there nose. No biggie”

Jax couldn’t help but smirk, you were exactly like him, in so many ways.

“You can’t say anything dad you taught me talking was boring when you can fight it out” just as you said it an idea popped into your head. Spinning round on the balls of your feet you grinned at your dad.

“No, nope happening” He laughed when he realised what you was thinking “me and you aren’t going at it in the ring” he chuckled.

“Why do you think you will lose old man” you taunted.

“Nope it’s not that” he said looking up “I am not boxing with my daughter”

“You’re just scared because you know I’m gonna beat your ass” you giggled squaring up to him.

He knew you weren’t gonna back down. You was a Teller at the end of the day.

“Fine but if you get hurt you are telling your mum it was your idea” Jax sighed in defeat.

And with that you ran off into the clubhouse to tell everyone.

It was now 7pm and Tig was wrapping your fists.

“You sure about fighting your dad kiddo?” He asked.

“Uncle Tiggy I’m sure” you nodded “we need this, well I need this. If I’m gonna let go of the past I need to do this”

“Okay then” he smiled kissing your fist “beat the shit out of your old man”

You were now standing face to face with your dad in the ring. He knew what was happening, and he wasn’t going to fight back, he had overheard what you said to Tig. So if beating the shit out of him was what you needed to forgive him then that is what he was going to let you do.

Punch after punch, you felt the anger flow through your fists, you were fuelled by every bad memory, everything he did and he just let the punches keep coming.

Your emotions got the better of you as you scream, pounding your fists against his chest as you burst into tears. As soon as this happened Jax wrapped his arms around you, dropping to his knees holding you tight.

“That’s it princess let it all out, all the anger, all the pain” he whispered rubbing your back. “I’m never gonna leave you okay, no matter what happens with me and your mum, you will always have your old man in your corner. My biggest regret is you saw everything happen, I never wanted you to feel like I loved Abel more than you, you are my little girl, my princess and I love you”

Once you had calmed down, you felt a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you no longer felt an immense hatred towards your dad.

It had been a couple of days after the ‘fight’ and you had actually started to open up. The bike was finished and you were just putting the tools away.

“I want to drop out of college” you said “it’s really not for me, I struggle with the exams and coursework”

“You know whatever you decide I will support you” Jax smiled softly at you, hee knew where you was coming from, he was exactly the same when it came to tests and the theory behind things. “If you did drop out what would you do?”

“Actually I wanna be a mechanic” you said looking up. “Maybe I could work here”

“Why don’t you sleep on the idea and if you really want to drop out then we will get it all sorted” he said kissing your head. “Now what do you say we take her for a spin?”

“You think I’m ready for the roads” you laughed.

“You are a natural” he grinned tossing you your helmet “it’s in your blood”

The rest of the day was spent riding round the streets charming, a smile on your face and your relationship with your dad well on the road to being what it once was. Never in a million years you would have thought that restoring JT’s bike would actually restore your relationship as well.

#Jax Teller #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader

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forevercloudnine · 4 years ago

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arkhamverse riddlebat ship meme

(Continuing with the questions that @heroes-etc picked out for me, this set being from this ship meme.)

3. who is more afraid about the other leaving them?

Edward, hands down. Arkhamverse Riddler is maybe the neediest take on the character I’ve ever seen. Which is saying something, because the panel from “Questions Multiply the Mystery” where he writhes around on the floor begging for attention is permanently burned into my mind. He also clearly doesn’t take rejection well, as evidenced by the graffiti in his cell shown in a promotional image for Arkham Asylum (2009). J'ai aimé, j'ai souffert, maintenant... je hais. “I loved, I suffered, now I hate.”

It didn’t make it into the game proper (too subtexty, maybe, given a general lack of non-Batman people this could be referring to), but from my perspective it might as well have, since I experienced all the games second hand by sitting on the couch next to my brother while he swore at the Riddler challenges. Anyway, if perceived rejection has you writing French poetry on your cell wall in what looks concerningly like bodily fluids, then you probably won’t deal well with the concept of actually being dumped.

5. who is more likely to drunkenly confess?

Also Edward, given that he’s calling Bruce every five minutes. And if he’s not calling Bruce directly, he’s talking ABOUT Bruce in a public broadcast to all of Gotham. Eddie is the king of freudian slips sober, so one can only imagine what he would say in vino veritas. If he does get drunk, let’s hope for his sake that he opts to communicate through his private line to Batman rather than over every screen in Gotham.

6. who is more likely to push the other away (for any reason)?

Bruce, also hands down. Arkham Knight really goes out of its way to hammer in that Batman’s callous treatment of Riddler has wreaked havoc on Edward’s psyche, even if arguably Eddie had it coming. Riddler’s mole in the GCPD talks about this:

JT Walker: It used to be funny, you know [...] And then one day, it just wasn't funny anymore. It was pathetic. He stopped taking care of himself, got that crazy look in his eyes. I swear man, he's broken. You broke him.

Bruce’s subconscious gets a dig in on this topic via Joker hallucination.

“Joker”: Good for you, Bats! Eddie doesn’t need help. No, no, no. Beat ‘em up. Lock ‘em up. That’s the best medicine.

Even my brother, who would attempt to stab Arkhamverse Edward in the face War-of-Jokes-and-Riddles style if the games let him, felt guilty on Bruce’s behalf when Eddie started ranting about his photographic memory.

Riddler: I can summon your sneering features at will. That is, when they don't burst unbidden into my brain [...] I can remember every time you've hurt me. Sometimes I wake up, Dark Knight, to the feel of your hands around my neck, your carbon fiber created fists smashing my solar plexus.

I think because of this trait, one of the only ways this ship would work in Arkhamverse is if they came to an agreement during Arkham Origins (since Edward is... more or less... a vigilante in that game, albeit one that Bruce considers distasteful), well before their relationship gets to where it is in Arkham Asylum. The other way is if Bruce actually took the lesson Arkham Knight hammered over his head and tried to fix the damage done after faking his death. (In my mind there exists a many chaptered fanfic where after Batman “disappears” he moves to the second Batcave the games put under Arkham Asylum and takes on Joker’s “Eric Border” persona from the comics to become an orderly there. Whether it’s scarebat or riddlebat varies depending on my mood, but what’s consistent no matter what is that I have five WIPs on ao3 and I can’t write it until I finish at least one of them).

7. who picks fights more often?

Obviously Arkhamverse Edward is the most irritating person who has ever lived, so he kind of wins by default. But Bruce definitely holds his own in instigating unnecessary conflict with loved ones in this continuity. I’ll cut him some slack during Arkham Knight because one could argue that he spends most of the game half-possessed by an evil clown ghost, but it’s not like he’s much better in ANY of the other games. The bit in Arkham City where he lies to Talia’s face about being willing to spend the rest of his life with her so that she’ll give him access to the Lazarus Pit — even though if he was just honest and asked for it she probably would have helped him anyway, given that she DIES protecting him in the climax — is probably the best example of how he will infuriate people who love him for no logical reason. It’s a symptom of the post traumatic hyper vigilance, probably.

So if Edward did get the closeness to Bruce that his subconsciousness seems to be gunning for, he could look forward to the physical violence and public humiliation being replaced with the same well-intentioned gaslighting and emotional manipulation Bruce gives everyone but Alfred in these games. Actually, is Alfred the only one who’s even aware that he’s alive after Arkham Knight? Bruce, please tell your kids that you aren’t a pile of ash in the crater that used to be Wayne Manor.

9. who is more likely to withhold their feelings for the other?

The obvious answer is Bruce, because he keeps his emotions locked in a lead box buried like twenty feet beneath the floor of the Batcave (probably along with a bunch of kryptonite, since Superman is flying around the Arkhamverse somewhere). But honestly Bruce doesn’t seem to have a problem getting it on with supervillains in this continuity. He and Talia chat pretty casually about a recent romantic rendezvous in Metropolis when they meet in Arkham City. His emotional distance from Selina in Arkham Knight seems less like him withholding his feelings from her, and more like him not being over Talia’s death (or Joker’s, which... the narrative certainly focuses on more than Talia’s...).

So I think Edward would actually be more likely to withhold his feelings for Bruce. Even if Bruce approached him first, he’s too obsessed with the possibility of Bruce humiliating him to take any positive interaction (especially a romantic overture) at face value.

Riddler: You left me battered and demeaned in Arkham City. I am the Riddler, Batman. I don't suffer humiliation. I pay it back.

He’s not really wrong, either. Batman does humiliate him in Arkham City (by misleading Edward into thinking he’d let him die, no less); it’s the same embarrassment Edward inflicts on his own victims, so it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it per se, but it’s definitely not Bruce taking the higher ground.

Sticking him in his own trap is pretty vindictive, and Riddler’s weird commentary about not letting Batman have bathroom breaks during his revenge trials in Arkham Knight hints that Cash and the other guards might have made his (clearly unlawful!) punishment even more humiliating than we see on screen.

Riddler: Rule the seventh. Bathroom breaks will be administered on a discretionary basis. Should we find ourselves at a pivotal moment in your arduous journey to self-realization and defeat, I expect you to hold it in. Rule the eighth. Any accidents resulting from my strict enforcement of the seventh rule are to be considered your fault entirely.

So would Edward withhold his feelings for Batman? Yeah, probably. And it would probably take a lot of time and effort for Bruce to convince Edward that any feelings on his part weren’t just an attempt to humiliate Riddler further.

#riddlebat #edward nygma #riddler #arkhamverse #ship meme #every day #every day i think about the checkmate line

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sincerly-kate · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered Glass (Malcolm Bright/Whitly x gn!reader)

A/n: This story is inspired by two things; a two-part series by @wreckofawriter and also my experience with family . If you want me to remove it (wreckofawriter) then I will, but I don’t mean to copy your amazing work.

Warnings: Angst to fluff, Malcolm trying his best (not really a warning but that needed to be put out there, HE ONLY TRIES HIS BEST), also talk about poor mental health! (Such as Anxiety, description of an anxiety attack (this is based off MY experiences I’m not trying to generalize them!) and slight depression)

Don’t read if you’re not done season one! All spoilers are under the cut just in case (Eve is mentioned, iykyk)

Summary: You and Malcolm have been dating for a few years now, you share with him all of your sides- or so he thought. How will he react when he sees you crying when you think he can’t see you? How will he feel when he realizes that you guys are more alike than he originally expected?

Y/s/n = Your Siblings Name

Y/m/n = Your Mothers Name

y/n = your name (just in case this is your first fic)

Words: Just over 3,000 (😅😅)

I was listening to this song as I was writing this: If the World Was Ending- JP Saxe, Julia MIchaels

You always knew that Malcolm could see the real you better than anyone else, he could see straight through your facial expressions and little habits. It was his job after all as a profiler, he couldn’t just turn it off when he was with you and that was understood between the two of you. The last thing you wanted was for him to change in a world that treated him differently already (no thanks to his father).

But there was one part of you that you tried to keep from Malcolm at all costs, and that was your family.

It wasn’t because you didn’t trust him with that knowledge, but it was just a side of you that you’ve never been able to let anyone see. To see how hurt you were by their words, how little you were respected by them, how small you felt anytime you tried to be yourself around them. You couldn’t tell him any of it, you hoped that he would believe your lies, cause you knew that his family was way worse than yours; so you just kept it all inside for no one except yourself to see. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty for confiding in you after all these years.

You felt him nudge your shoulder, which brought you back to reality. You were a Reporter, and a very god one depending on who you asked, and Malcolm needed you to help him drag out a killer for a case. He was profiled as overly confident and a borderline narcissist, so Malcolm was certain that if you talked about him on the news, saying that they had him in custody that he would contact either you or the station to say you had a fraud. Malcolm was going to be by your side the entire time, just to make sure they wouldn’t go after the most important person in his life-,not again; he wouldn’t know what he would do if you were taken away from him like Eve. He would do anything in his power to make sure that he wouldn’t go after you, since you matched most of his previous victims.

“You alright?” He looked at you slightly worried, he was always concerned when you got too deep into that head of yours, he wasn’t sure what caused you to be constantly thinking that you’re not good enough, but he wasn’t going to press the matter. He rubbed your thigh as he sat next to you, to keep you grounded.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’m about to be indirectly talking to a serial killer on live television, and possibly get a target on my back for doing so.” You nervously laughed as you looked down at your feet, your leg bouncing up and down to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart.

“You don’t need to do this; you know that right?” He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing the side of your face with his thumb repeating the motion to calm your nerves. “I can ask Ainsley; she’s done this before-”

“Malcolm, I’ll be alright. I always am.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile; you knew it wasn’t very convincing but that’s all you could muster up at the moment.

He wasn’t convinced, you could tell since he gave you his doubtful that he’s given you on more than one occasion but he was cut off by another voice before he could call you out on it.

“C’mon Bright, they’re about to go live.” Gill said as he lightly grabbed his arm to get him out of the shot, and he complied.

“Live in 3,2,1...” You were given the cue as you took a deep breath and put your ‘TV face’ on as you liked to call it. “Breaking news tonight, the NYPD have confirmed that they have someone in custody who’s been known to the public as The angel of death, nothing has been said by police if this truly is their killer but after the past week of The angel of death terrorizing the city, police are led to believe that this is him.”

You took a pause to make it look like you were listening to someone through your earpiece, that was intentionally visible to the camera, then carried on with the broadcast.

“I’ve just gotten a confirmation from our sources that it has been officially confirmed that they have The angel of death himself in custody and will be setting a court date to be announced later. Now back to Ryan with politics.”

The second you heard the ring that signaled you were no longer on air, you slumped over in relaxation. You crossed your arms on the table in front of you and leaned your head, that now felt lighter than air, on top.

“You did amazing darling, that should get the killers attention for certain.” He said to you as the sound of his shoes got closer to the desk the kissed the top of your head and slowly rubbed your back to release more tension that he knew you were holding.

“I didn’t really- “You tried to correct him as you lifted your head, but Malcolm refused to let you get close to finishing that sentence of yours.

“Nope- you just brought us our killer baby; you did a hell of a lot more than most would’ve in your shoes.” You loved how he was always able to reassure you, and how he did it without a second beat.

You turned to look up at your loving and supportive boyfriend in admiration and a warm smile slowly painting your features, “Whatever I did in a past life was so worth it.”

“What?” He slightly laughed at your statement, looking at you now with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

“To deserve someone like you and be lucky to call them mine.” You stood up from your chair and moved closer to him to close the distance between his lips and yours, you could taste the slight cherry flavor of the candy you knew he had earlier. As you two break apart, you can still taste it on your own lips.

Unfortunately, this moment doesn’t last as long as you two wanted it to, because both of your phones go off. His from an unknown caller, and yet yours is somehow worse.

You look down to your phone saying Mom, you sighed at this and then looked at Malcolm, or where he was, already on his phone, most likely talking to the killer himself next to Dani, Giles and JT.

You excused yourself to another room for some privacy that you knew you were going to need. You were only halfway to the quiet room when you answered your phone; you knew that was going to be a bad idea.

“Why in the hell did you think that was a good idea y/n?!”

You sighed and with a tight-lipped smile replied with, “Hello to you too mom, haven’t heard from you in a while.” You then slowly closed the door behind you.

“Don’t give me that lip! I am your mother, I deserved to be treated with respect! I never get this from y/s/n.”

You dropped your head down in defeat, you always considered the problem child, ever since your sibling came into the picture. Before that everything was relatively fine, but you never blamed y/s/n though; it’s not their fault your parents decided that you could fend for yourself at the age of 8.

“Yeah I know, but it was for a case- “Once again, she decided to cut you off.

“A CASE?” she shrieked into the phone, making you pull the device away from your ear.

“Yes- “

“Now I knew were selfish, but I never thought it was this bad. I could tell that it was staged, are you seriously putting yourself in danger so they could contact you for some ink?”

You were absolutely shocked by her words; she thought that you risking your life was selfish? So, you could save others, that made you selfish? You felt the pressure of tears build up as a sickening pit was building in your stomach; she always knew the words to say and never in the good way. “No, that’s not- “

“No, I get it, you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs. I have no clue where I went wrong with you.”

The minute you heard that, you hung up the phone. You couldn’t care less about what she would’ve said after that.

You hit your back on the wall as you slowly walked backwards and slid down to the floor. You pulled your knees up to your chest and placed your head down.

You must’ve been sitting there for a while as there was a rough knocking behind your back, on the door. ‘They must’ve been knocking for a while’ you thought.

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Malcolm. You must’ve scared him to death, without even thinking you stand up and open the door for him.

Behind the door was Gil, JT and Dani accompanying Malcolm. “Shit guys, sorry if I scared you.” You laughed humorlessly but stopped once you saw all their concerned faces.

“Y/n, you alright?” Gil asked, who was more of a parental figure than your own, but you couldn’t ever tell him that. Not because you were scared it would go to his head, no, he wasn’t like that. You just didn’t want it to become awkward since he already needed to worry about Malcolm, you didn’t need him to constantly worry about you on top of it.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You said then realized you still had massive tear stains on your cheeks and puffy eyes from your previous phone call, you forgot to wipe them away before you opened the door.

‘Dammit y/n’ you scolded yourself for making the four of them all worry.

“Um you got somethin’ right,” JT then motioned to his whole face, Dani then elbowed him in the side for his unhelpful comment.

“Oh!” You wiped the sides of your face, “I’m fine guys, just got something in my eye.” You smiled at all of them.

Your head then turned to Malcolm, who squinted his eyes at you. You could tell didn’t believe you at all; he knew all your tells. You could tell that he was going to ask later, but you were sure as hell going to avoid it if you could.

Unable to deal with the silence anymore, you pushed by all of them, apologizing as you went, and walked out to your car. You were done for the day anyways, so you wanted to go home to Malcolm and yours’ apartment.

Once you got through the door, you let the dam in your mind open. The flood gate of tears rushed, and there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it; not that you really wanted to anyways. Your hands shook from the rush of emotions going through you, but you forced down the inevitable panic attack until you got to the couch. Your hands continued to uncontrollably shake, and you curled up in a fetal position with your favorite blanket wrapped around you like a tight hug. The words of your mother echoed throughout your fogged mind.

“I knew were selfish… you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs…”

It just wouldn’t stop. It was like a massive wave going over a surfer; nothing could be done about it, you just needed to ride it out.

You heard a muffled noise coming from behind you but being so caught up and immobilized in your thoughts, nothing could’ve dragged you out of this one, not this time.

A pair of arms grabbed your shoulders, and there was enough fight left in you to push them away and run into the corner of the apartment. You could slightly see a male figure coming near you, and all you were capable of doing was whimpering and curling up in what you had deemed your safety blanket.

“Y/n… talk to me… happened at… were worried…”

You tried to make out the familiar voice- Malcolm; that’s the only person it could be right? It didn’t matter to you right now; the voice of your mother was stronger than your own thoughts, it always had been.

You felt a thud right next to you, and smelt the subtle sent of his cologne, it brought you back to your senses slightly, but not enough to stop your uncontrollable shaking and tears. He nudged himself closer to your body, and you instinctively laid your head on his shoulder. You could feel yourself calm down, but you knew it was because he was here. Yes, he was helping you ground yourself through the small gesture, but it was mainly that you were embarrassed of him seeing you like this and could feel your body force away the attack.

As you begun to trust yourself to speak, you turned slightly towards Malcolm, a numb look coated your features. “Sorry you had to see that; you shouldn’t have had to.” You spoke meekly, looking down at your still slightly shaky hands in your lap.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

It was once he said that sentence that you knew you needed to come clean about the one secret that you had left from him.

“But I do, I’ve been selfish.”

“How darling?” He said while slowly petting your head, the way you’d comfort a child.

“I didn’t want to tell you, cause you already had so much on your plate, with this case, your family, and I- I just didn’t want to add my family on top of it.” He understood that this must’ve been eating at you for a while, because you normally bottled all your feelings until it broke; unfortunately, that’s why you both got along so well. He never wanted you to feel like that was necessary when you were with him, but how do you bring that kind of thing up?

“What about your family?” he spoke softly. You never spoke about them, hell he’s never even met them but now he felt deep down that he was about to find out why.

“Am I selfish to you? Am I someone you really see yourself with in the long run?” Tears begun to fill your eyes again, and a crack in your voice was evident to Malcolm that you believed in what you were saying about yourself.

He felt a pang of sadness for you in his chest, that was quickly turning to anger at whoever made you feel like you were any less than worth the universe. He composed himself before he responded to your question.

“Far from it, you are the most selfless human being I’ve ever met. There’s now way that a selfish person would’ve done what you did today; going in front of thousands of people and calling out a killer like that, like a badass.” He nudged your shoulder, where he got a slight giggle out of you. It wasn’t a lot, but it was better than nothing.

“And absolutely can I see you with me later on,” He took a deep breath before he continued his statement. “I love you y/n, and if I ever lost you… I don’t even want to think of who I would become. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

You immediately rushed into his arms and embraced him so tightly, afraid that this was all some massive cruel dream, and you’d wake up another day without him knowing. You stayed like this for a moment before Malcolm piped up,

“So, you wanna tell me why the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth is currently crying on our apartment floor at nearly 9 pm?”

You both chuckled at this, as you unwrapped yourself from his arms to look him in his beautiful blue eyes. His eyes were still filled with an underlying anger, but mainly held concern towards you.

“You know when we were at the news station today? And you got a call from the killer?” He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“Well I also got a call, but it was from my mother. We got into an argument, since she saw the broadcast, and words were said.” You knew that the fine details were going to be said eventually, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“And, what did she say baby?” He answered in a voice that was barely even a whisper, he looked you up and down; most likely looking at your body language to see if you were going to try and lie, but he could tell that you were going to be honest.

“That I was selfish, dumb, questioning where she went wrong with me.” You sniffled and looked to your hands, terrified to see Malcolm’s reaction. Not because he might yell at you, but at what he might do to your mother now that this was his first impression of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Was all he said after some silence.

“You have your own family shit to deal with, I didn’t feel like it was fair on you to dump mine on top of it. I didn’t want you to lose anymore sleep than you already do over something that I need to deal with.”

“…”

“Malcolm? You’re scaring me.” You looked up at him to see him looking out the window, his face glowing from all the nightlife neon lights across the street; he looked so angelic, more than he normally did.

“How didn’t I see this any sooner? I don’t care that you didn’t tell me y/n, I don’t care that your family is screwed up as well. I do care about the fact that I couldn’t help you through it.”

“But Malcolm it wasn’t your fight-” you tried to defend your reasoning, but alas he needed to correct you once more before the night was through.

“You’re right; it’s our fight. To hell with our parents, we’re not our parents; we are our own people. So, from this moment on, I promise to be completely transparent with my baggage as long as you are with me. We can break our constantly bottled-up feelings together.” He gently picked up your hand and laid a kiss on top.

“turn them into shattered glass.” You nodded as you spoke, a smile slowly coming back to your face.

“Just like shattered glass.” He nodded back, returning your smile.

And just like that, the two of you sat down on the couch, cuddling and watching movies as dusk carried on into dawn.

A/n: I hope you guys liked this, I always loved Malcolm’s character and Prodigal son, and with my life being slightly hectic at the moment this was a nice change of pace. Hope you have an amazing day or night, depending on where you are! 💙

-Kate

#prodigal son #prodigal son x reader #malcolm whitly #malcolm bright x reader #malcolm bright #malcolm whitly x reader #prodigal son fandom #prodigal son fanfic #dani powell #gil arroyo #angst to fluff #kate writes #prodigal son spoilers s1

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toplinetommy · 4 years ago

Text

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Two) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 4.8k

Part One

September 2017 - Denver, CO

NHLers + 1 Tucker: heard you got a job in Denver Tucker: you know who else got a job there Y/N: what are you going on about Brock: tyson jost plays for the avs Brock: you should catch a game when the szn starts Y/N: he barely knows who i am Tucker: he thinks youre cute *Brock emphasized the message* Y/N: that was months ago Brock: whats the worst that can happen Y/N: hes literally a pro athlete Tucker: im a pro athlete and I still talk to you

You set your phone back onto the patio table, changing it out for your margarita. You were sitting on your new best friend and coworker, Caitlyn’s, back deck enjoying margaritas in the early Denver fall when she said a name you hadn’t heard in months.

“So, when were you going to tell me you know Tyson Jost?”

You nearly spit out the alcoholic beverage, choking as it goes down the wrong pipe. “Uh, because I don’t? He played hockey where I got my undergrad, not a big deal.”

“Then how come I’m scrolling on Instagram, and Tyson Jost shared to his IG story a picture that you, my friend, are in?” She pushes her phone across the table to you and you look at the picture. Sure enough, it’s a picture Brock had shared to his story, that Tyson had reshared, from the 2017 senior banquet. You’re standing between Brock and Tucker in the back of the photo, barely seen as you were tucked in a large group of hockey players. You weren’t even tagged and yet, somehow Caitlyn had been able to pinpoint you, with none other than Tyson Jost standing right in front of you.

“I’ve had maybe three conversations with him? He only played the one year there and I wasn’t tutoring him.” You shrug, not getting what the huge deal was.

“You were a tutor?”

“Yeah, for athletes, but towards the end I was mainly tutoring the hockey team. That’s why I’m in that picture, I was pretty close to a few of the guys. That was their senior banquet my senior year and I went as one guy’s date, and no, it wasn’t with Tyson or Brock. It was with a guy named Tucker, he plays for the Jets actually.”

Caitlyn asks a few more questions about your college life before the sun starts to set, and the hockey conversation gets dropped.

“Trust me, I’m not ‘immersed’ into the NHL community or whatever. I just have a few friends in the league that I don’t even talk to that much besides sending memes in a group chat.” You say closing out the topic, choosing to move onto something else.

“Anyways, tell me more about Jack! How come I haven’t met your soulmate yet, huh?” You ask giddly. Soulmates were one of your favorite things to talk about, mainly because you were a hopeless romantic at heart; always fantasizing about the day you’d meet yours and listening to other people share their stories about it.

“Well we met in March when we were at a tech conference while he was still going to school, but I had already graduated and moved here. He still has another year before he graduates and he plans on coming out once he does, depending on if he can get a job in the area.”

“Do you think he’ll move to Denver?”

“I think so, he loved it here when he came and visited over the summer. He loved this house, and he loves the outdoors. I don’t really want to leave, either. I mean, Denver’s my home.” She says, smiling at the thought of her current surroundings.

Hearing others talk about their soulmates kind of made you envious, but you were happy for your friend. Watching her face light up as she talked about Jack was something you only wished for and couldn’t wait to experience for yourself.

Two days later, you’re back over at her place for your weekly Taco Tuesday’s - a tradition the two of you had started not too long after you met at your job a few months back. You hop out of your SUV, noticing the moving truck next to your friend’s house, and definitely not missing the large group of burly men unpacking it.

Walking into the house you shout, making your appearance known. Entering the kitchen you set the grocery bag on the counter. “Did you see that people are moving in across the street? Looks like it’s a group of guys.”

Caitlyn shrugs before continuing, “Took ‘em long enough to sell the house. That house was up for sale when I moved here in June.” She starts walking around the island, back towards the front of the house to further inspect the new neighbors, you close behind. A few of them have their shirts off, even in the brisk fall Denver air, and even with the distance, the both of you can tell there’s some serious man-candy going on across the street.

The both of you retreat back to the kitchen, getting ready to make your weekly tacos, catching up on work, friends, drama, and what had happened on this week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy. As Caitlyn was finishing up the taco meat, you went to get beers from the fridge in the garage when you heard a voice other than your friends’ in the kitchen on your way back.

Walking into the room you’re shell shocked at the group of men in front of you. No, scratch that. Shocked at one particular man in front of you. Your jaw drops as none other than Tyson Jost looks right back at you.

He marveled at the sight of you, “y/n y/l/n?”

“In the flesh” You laugh lighty.

“You live here?” He inquired, with a hint of shyness in his voice.

“No, Caitlyn lives here, but I live in the area” you respond pointing over to the blonde standing in between the two of you. You look around at the rest of the guys, remembering that it’s not just the two of you standing in your friends kitchen, having what seems like a reunion of sorts.

A deep cough comes from next to you, pulling you out of your confused, yet awe-struck state. “Hey, uh, I’m JT,” comes from the burly redhead standing a few feet away from you, “This is Alexander, Nate, and then Tyson, who I guess you already know?” He points to everyone as he says their names, a hint of question in his tone when he goes over Tyson’s name.

At this, Tyson jumps in, “She went to North Dakota, too. She knew the hockey team.”

“Oh?” JT asks, eyebrows raising towards his hairline in question.

“Uh, yeah, I was one of the tutors.” You explain briefly.

“You still talk to any of them?” Tyson asks, centering the conversation around you rather than the relationship between the two of you.

“I talk to Brock every now and then, and I’m still pretty close with Tucker.” You answer, not wanting to give too many details about your friendships with other NHLers. Tyson nods his head at you, before JT speaks up once again, steering back to the original reason of the conversation.

The boys had stopped by because they saw the open garage and needed a pair of scissors. Something you assumed a group of guys would have when moving into a new house. As the conversation came to a halt, and the boys started to leave, wanting to let you guys get back to your dinner, Tyson stops on the front porch to continue talking to you.

“So, you ended up in Denver, eh?” He asks, shoving his hands into his short pockets.

“I did, and I like it a lot so far. I got offered a job as a project manager for a company that has their corporate offices here. Couldn't pass up the opportunity to move to a new city.” As you finish talking, you realize you had started rambling a little bit, a slight blush rising to your cheeks.

Tyson smiles widely, noticing the joy and passion in your voice. A voice in the distance calling out for Tyson breaks the moment you two are having. “I should probably get back, but, uhm, if you ever want to catch up or anything don’t hesitate to text me or something.”

“Uh, yeah, for sure. I’ll let you get back to moving.” You exclaim with a hint of nervousness. You weren’t sure if you should hug him goodbye, but you were a big hugger, so you awkwardly go in for a hug, to which Tyson happily consumes. The two of you go your separate ways as Tyson jogs across the street back to his house.

Walking back into Caitlyn’s kitchen, you’re snapped back to reality by the look on your friends face. Dropping your shoulders, you groan, “What?”

“I don’t know Tyson Jost, she says. We just went to college together, she says,” she mocks in a high-pitched tone. “That interaction had way too much something in it for you two to have just been acquaintances or whatever you were.”

“I promise you I barely know him. I just always thought he was cute like everyone else did and the guys loved to make fun of me for it. He’s also four years younger than me.” You reveal embarrassingly, a small smile coming to your face thinking back on some of the memories you had. “Like, my senior year, they made me show up to a jersey party at the hockey house wearing his jersey. I think I was the only one at the whole party even wearing something NoDak related, too. It was just dumb, little stuff.”

“Aw, that’s kind of cute.” Caitlyn gushes, taking a sip from her beer. The two of you start to make your tacos, and sit in a comfortable silence while eating.

It’s halfway through dinner you realize you don’t even have Tyson’s phone number, contemplating on whether or not you want to text him. “Should I text him?” You ask. “I barely know him and now he’s an up-and-coming professional athlete.”

“You’re both new to the city, so I don’t see the harm in it?” Your friend reasons.

You nod in agreement, trying to figure out how you’re even going to get his phone number. Picking up your phone, you go to text Tucker.

Y/N: would you happen to have tyson josts number :-) Tucker: thought you didnt want it Y/N: yeah funny story actually Y/N: i guess he lives across the street from my coworker now Tucker: ur kidding Y/N: i wish i was Tucker: i knew you two would somehow find each other Y/N: whatever

Tucker ends up texting you Tyson’s phone number a little bit later, and after a lot of typing and retyping you finally settle on a simple “hey” with a simple smiley face, letting him know it’s you.

Once you had sent the first initial text to Tyson a few days ago, it seemed like the two of you had been friends all along. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, only texting one another when you really had the time to.

Part of you was nervous that the two of you had really never hung out, apart from those few occasions back at school, but even then it was never just the two of you. You had contemplated asking Caitlyn to come over in case it got awkward. In the end, you didn’t let your nerves get the best of you and you went through with going over to his house to meet up with him.

Knocking on the front door, you twist your hands together in anticipation.

The large wooden door swings open to reveal a very smiling Tyson, “Hey!” He moves to the side to let you in but as you pass him he opens his arm signaling for a hug.

You wrap one arm around him, half leaning into his side for a side hug as you greet him in return. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great, development camp just ended. I got the letter saying I made the opening day roster, so still trying to get used to that.” He answers with a small laugh. His hands are resting in his front hoodie pocket, and you notice how nice his posture is. You look over him, also noting that his legs look much thicker than you remember and his chest is much broader, even under the expanse of his hoodie.

“That’s great” You compliment, feet planted to the ground once you slip your shoes off. The two of you are still standing in the foyer of his home. The air around the two of you almost makes it feel like one of those ‘we met online and we’re now meeting each other for the first time’ moments.

Tyson starts walking, leading the two of you to his kitchen before asking if you want anything to drink.

“Water would be awesome.” You answer, moving to take a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

Tyson closes the fridge, handing you a water bottle. “So how long have you been in Denver?”

“Since June, so three months?” You say, counting on your fingers. “I got the job not too long after I graduated but I went on vacation with some friends before moving. What about you?”

“I actually came down in April after the UND season ended, but only for a few games. I just got back, like, two weeks ago.” He starts, leaning his elbows down against the counter in front of you. “I was in a hotel until you saw us moving in the other day, actually.”

“Why’s that?” You ask, knitting your eyebrows in confusion.

“So like, the way it works is that you have to make the team during development camp and if you don’t you’ll go back to wherever you were playing before. I already lost my NCAA eligibility when I left, so if I didn’t make the team I would’ve gone down to San Antonio where our AHL team is.” Tyson explains, hands moving around in the air as he speaks.

You nod your head as he speaks, starting to understand the process of how one makes the NHL. “Well, I think you’ll love it here. I’ve only been here for a few months and I can’t stop thinking about how perfect this place is.” You gush.

“Yeah, I’m really excited for the season. The guys are all really nice and welcoming already.” He muses. His eyes crinkle a little bit, a sure sign of happiness as he smiles.

You smile in response, “From what I remember back at school, you were pretty good, too.”

A small blush rises on his tan cheeks and the tips of his ears. He pushes a hand through the curls on the top of his head with a shrug. “You majored in marketing?” Tyson asks, changing the subject. He was never one to talk about himself too much, even with all of his accomplishments.

“I did!” you exclaim, surprised he even remembered that about you. “I’m a project manager, so I basically manage a few different projects at a time at a marketing firm. I like it a lot so far. That’s how I know Caitlyn, the girl across the street.” You point in her general direction, gesturing to the house across the street.

“What part of the city do you live in?” He asks curiously. He stands up straight again, leaving his hands resting on the counter.

“Over in Westwood, in a townhouse.” You answer, once again stunned at his ability to remember small details from previous conversations. “It’s just southwest of downtown and like, 20 minutes from here.”

“I haven't really gotten the chance to really explore the area too much, so I have no idea where that is.” He laughs.

You laugh along with him, “We can always figure it out together if you want, because I haven’t done too much either.” You freeze up slightly at your request, not really knowing where your bravery came from.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” He agrees. “Being around a bunch of hockey players all the time can be a little much. Besides, it’s nice to have familiar faces around, eh?” He quirks his eyebrow at you.

“For sure.” You agree, taking another sip from your water. “You have any other plans for the day?”

“Other than this, no.”

“I was thinking,” you start, “we could order food or something? I can start showing you the best food places around.”

“Yeah, I’m actually getting kinda hungry. What’re you thinking?” He asks, making a show to rub at his belly.

“I found a really good ramen place a few weeks ago that I really liked if you’re down to try that?” You suggest, pulling your phone out planning to pull up the menu for the two of you.

“Sure, I’m down to try anything.”

You stand up from where you were sitting to move over to him, placing your phone on the counter so both you and Tyson can look at the screen. He moves closer to you, shoulders now touching as you both look down at the phone in front of you quietly. He’s comfortable enough to scroll on the website on his own, even with the newness of your friendship.

As you move to fully stand straight up next to him, the brush of the side of your upper arm against his sends a sort of static through your body. You shrug your arm, moving a few inches away from the man next to you.

“Do you know what you want? I can call and place the order.” You suggest, gesturing towards your phone. He pushes the phone over to you, telling you what he wants before saying he’ll venmo you for his part.

A little while later, once you’ve driven to downtown Denver and back, you have ramen in front of you as the two of you sit out on the back deck trying to enjoy the last of the warm weather.

The two of you sit across from one another eating in the quiet when JT walks out. “You guys got food and didn’t ask me if I wanted any? I’m hurt.”

Your eyes gaze between him and to Tyson, before Tyson speaks up, “Not my problem you weren’t around when we ordered it.”

You chuckle lightly at the interaction in front of you as JT rolls his eyes looking for a response. Instead of verbally responding, he walks over to take a seat next to his roommate, giving him a shove as he passes by him.

“So, y/n, have you found your soulmate yet?”

“Bro, what is with you and your need to ask every single person you know that?” Tyson groans, dropping his fork into his bowl.

“What, it’s fascinating!” He exclaims, leaning back into his seat.

“Yeah, because you basically already know who yours is.”

“You already have a soulmate?” You ask, swallowing the bit of noodles in your mouth.

“Technically, no,” He starts, dragging out the ‘no’. “But I’m convinced I know who it actually is.”

“He met this girl over the summer and felt some ‘connection’ to her or whatever.” Tyson says, doing finger quotations around connection.

“Shut up,” JT groans. “I swear the world stopped when we made eye contact and then we talked and I was just blown away.”

You look at him as he talks, but you notice Tyson next to him, mouthing the words JT is speaking. You giggle a little, causing Tyson to smile.

“I think that’s great, you’ll have to keep me updated on it all.” You say with a smile on your face. Tyson and JT continue to bicker like the best friends you're starting to see they are, as you sit and continue eating your ramen. The way Tyson easily chirps him and laughs makes your stomach do tiny little flips.

January 2018 - Pepsi Center, Denver, CO

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best friend ever?” Caitlyn exclaims with glee.

You laugh loudly, holding open the door to the Pepsi Center for your friend to walk through. “You mean have you ever told me that you love that I’m friends with NHL players so I can get good tickets? Once or twice.”

The Winnipeg Jets were in town, meaning Tucker would be playing Tyson for the first time at the NHL level. Tucker had let you know a few weeks ago that he would be in town briefly to play the Avs, and what he didn’t know was that Tyson had also told you the other day about the game. Tucker offered to get you and a friend tickets to the game, which you happily took.

Now, the both of you are walking around on the concourse level, looking for a good place to stop and get drinks before puck drop.

Caitlyn turns to you after you both get your drinks, “Does Tucker know that you’re talking to Tyson?”

“No, I’d thought I’d let him figure it out on his own. I mean, he was one of the guys that always pushed us two to get to know each other so I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing yet.” You shrug.

“Didn’t you say we’re all getting brunch tomorrow though? Won’t he know then?”

“He knows, yeah, but he doesn’t know that I know Tyson will be there. Just a little payback for all the pranks he pulled back in college.”

You guys finally locate your seats in the lower bowl, drifting your conversation to the game itself. You knew Caitlyn was a big hockey fan, her being from Michigan and all, so you were happy you finally got to see her in her element.

The Avs scoot by with an overtime win, not seeing too much action from either Tyson or Tucker on the official score sheet. As you guys exit the arena, you shoot a text to both Tyson and Tucker individually, letting them know they played good games.

The next morning both you and Caitlyn are running a little behind getting to brunch, catching an odd amount of Denver traffic on the way to the chosen restaurant.

Walking through the glass doors of the restaurant, you wipe your snow covered feet off on the mat before looking up trying to either spot the mop of curls atop Tyson’s head or Tucker’s broad shoulders.

You catch Tyson’s eyes before Tucker spots you, giving him a small wave and smile before you and Caitlyn make your way over to their table. Tyson stands to give you a hug before Tucker can and when you pull away, you see a look of confusion on Tucker’s face. You move to give him a tight hug, letting him know how much you’ve missed having him around.

Once Caitlyn introduces herself to Tucker, the two of you take your seats across from them in the booth.

“I feel like the two of you are all grown up! My two not-so-little NHLers,” You squeal jokingly. Tyson laughs with a slight blush at this, while Tucker, who’s across from you, rolls his eyes.

“No no no, we’re not doing that.” Tucker laughs. “You can see how we’re doing with one google search. How’re you? How’s work?”

“Very good!” You exclaim, “Caitlyn and I have this really innovative project coming up that we’re super excited for.”

“The one with Finish Line?” Tyson jumps in, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah that one!” Caitlyn answers. You can tell she’s about to explain it further with the way she leans forward over the table.

Tucker cuts her off before she can continue to explain it, “What the fuck? How did you know that?”

“She was telling me the other day about it when I was at her place.” Tyson answers quickly.

“You were at her place?” Tucker asks, growing even more confused.

“Yeah, he was helping me with my new desk. Caitlyn was out of town so she couldn’t help.” You answer without hesitation.

“Oh! You got it set up?” Caitlyn asks the two of you. “You’ll have to send me a picture when you get home.” The way Caitlyn jumps into the conversation doesn’t help Tucker’s confusion one bit as he stares at the three of you blankly,

“So you’re telling me the two of you, like, hang out?” Tucker asks, pointing between the two of you.

“Mhhm,” you hum with a tight-lipped smile. “Not too often, though.” Before Tucker can muster up a response the waitress appears to take your breakfast orders.

“We’ve only really hung out a few times since we reconnected a few months ago,” You continue once the waitress walks away. “Like, maybe two or three times?” You look at Tyson for confirmation to which he nods his head with a quick ‘yep’.

“So, you actually ended up texting him?” Tucker asks you.

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I have?”

“You literally avoided him all of spring semester.” Tucker states. Realization of what he’s talking about hits you and you sink back into the cushioned booth, your stomach tightening up with nerves.

Tyson, who looked like he was just checking something on his phone, whips his head up to look at his old teammate next to him.

“I did not,” You stutter, eyes shooting daggers at the Jets player across from you. “He drove me home from the bar once and then I didn’t see him again until a few months ago.”

“And you guys hooked up and then we never saw you in the same room again.” He says casually, reaching for his glass of water and bringing it to his lips. You choke on your coffee at his remark, going into a fit of coughing once you set your mug back down in front of you.

“Dude,” Tyson warns roughly and slaps at Tucker’s chest.

“What? No one knew where the two of you went and you wouldn’t really say anything about it when we all asked!”

“You told everyone we hooked up?” You ask, staring blankly at Tyson in disbelief.

“I literally told the whole team that some asshole spilled his drink on her and drove her home and then ended up going home right after instead of back to the bar.” Tyson says through gritted teeth. His stern gaze turns from Tucker towards your face, eyes turning soft when he sees your mouth slightly agape.

“I swear I never said anything happened between the two of us.” He promises to you, eyes locked on yours. Your eyes stay focused on him for a while longer. The breath you didn’t mean to hold in is let out a huff of air once you see the sincerity behind his eyes.

“Tucker, that was literally just a coincidence that we never saw each other, and besides, Tyson told me he left school to come down to Denver right after the banquet.” You say, turning your attention back to him.

“Okay, sorry about the assumption.” Tucker apologizes, moreso to you than to Tyson. A smirk plays at his lips and you know exactly where he’s taking this conversation. Before you’re able to derail him and switch the topic to anything else he opens his mouth once again. “Everyone knew you guys were attracted to one another so it wasn’t a stretch to think.”

Your previous embarrassment comes back full force with your cheeks heating up. You pick up your coffee mug once again taking a sip, this time to hopefully hide the pink tint on the apples of your cheeks. You take notice at how Tyson doesn’t move to discount Tucker’s comment this time and especially notice the tips of his ears turning pink.

It’s almost like you’re saved by the bell as the waitress walks up the table, arms full of your food. The rest of your brunch is spent catching up and telling Caitlyn all about what it was like at UND, while she shared stories about herself as well as her soulmate.

All throughout brunch, you couldn’t shake the feeling of the pull you felt towards the man that was sitting kitty-corner to you. Even as you and Caitlyn parted ways from the guys once you left, you swore you felt a part of yourself walk away with them. It may have been a feeling you couldn’t shake, but you still chose to ignore it as the two of you walked back to the parking garage Caitlyn’s car was located.

tag list: @REAVENEDGES-LIES (if you want to be added just let me know)

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #nhl imagine #alex writes #ybtmastm fic

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notgonnarememberthis · 4 years ago

Text

Murphy’s Law

Hellooo. This has been sitting in my drafts for a minute and right now I think everyone needs a little break from the stress. The idea for this fic is the missing scene from when Jessica pulls Gil out of the trunk to when Malcolm gets to the hospital because it’d take 2 hours. I hope y’all enjoy this little exploration it was a lot of fun to write and plan this out with my best friend. The title is based on literally murphy’s law where “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong”

Jessica tries her best to keep her breathing steady, to not focus on what happened and put all of her attention into driving.

God when was the last time that she’s driven a car at all?

15 years ago, maybe. Ainsley had a fever, she was alone. Malcolm was at Gil’s, she didn’t have a choice. She was so scared…

It’s the closest she’s ever come to calling Martin, herself. The thought fills her mouth with disgust and she has to shake her head to force the memories away. For the slightest moment she’s thankful for Gil’s taste in old cars. It’s similar to the one she was taught to drive in, it feels more automatic than she would know what to do with in a much newer one, one that she might own. Her hands clench even tighter around the steering wheel.

This was so much worse than a fever.

It’s the sound of Gil’s breathing, as labored as it is that keeps her tears from falling. As long as he’s still breathing she still has time. The smell of blood is overwhelming, all of her senses are so damn overwhelmed.

She almost cries in relief at seeing the hospital.

She pulls in quickly in front of the giant emergency room sign. She spares only a moment looking around, pleading that she sees some doctor or nurse on a break. With no such luck she runs back over to the other side of the car pulling the door open.

Her heart drops when she sees his eyes are closed. “Gil,” She calls to him softly. The tears come down in full force when she sees his chest rise and fall. “Come on,” She reaches in pulling him out of the car but he’s a dead weight against her. “Gil please I need you to wake up.” She sobs. “You need to help me, come on.” He doesn’t wake, he’s completely unconscious either of blood loss or pain.

She pulls on him but stumbles backwards. She loses balance in her heels under the weight of the two of them. Her ankle twists painfully before she hits the pavement with him in her lap.

“Somebody help me!” She screams in desperation. Sobs wrack her frame as she holds her hand over the wound trying to stop the bleeding. Her head bows as she hears the doors slide open, three sets of feet racing towards them. A fourth comes wheeling a gurney and just like that he’s lifted off and away from her.

A man helps her to her feet and she’s back into action once again. “What’s his name? What happened?”

“His name is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo with major crimes. He was stabbed and dragged into the back of a trunk. I wrecked into the car to get him out.”

The man nods his thanks, turning his full attention to Gil. “Lieutenant, we’re going to do our best to help you.”

“His blood type is A positive, he has no allergies, and he’s on no medication.” She follows the gurney along until a hand stops her, grabbing at her elbow.

“Mrs. Arroyo, you can’t go in. You need to let the doctors do their work.” She turns to the voice. A much younger blonde woman looks at her with a softness that hurts so badly. That’s the kind of compassion that this world tears apart. She would be eaten alive.

“I’m not-” She tries to correct the girl, but sobs take over once again. “I can’t leave him.”

“I need to get you checked out, okay?” She asks. “You said you wrecked the car, correct?” Jessica tries not to let her irritation bubble to the surface with a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s only procedure ma’am.” Jessica looks down at her again. Her eyes, they remind her so much of Ainsley. “Let me help you.” She nods following her to a spare bench.

“What’s your name?” She asks weakly.

“Tiff.” She smiles gently. “Yours?”

“Jessica, Jessica Whitly.” Realization settles over the girl’s face.

“Oh. I’m sorry I assumed you were married to Lieutenant Arroyo.” Jessica swallows the guilt at the back of her throat. Maybe, once upon a time, that could’ve been a possibility. She’s almost relieved when the girl doesn’t seem to recognize her. “Can you tell me, completely, what happened?”

“Depends, would you believe me?” Sarcasm, her best defense, coats her tongue.

“I’ve seen a man who lived through getting rebar through the skull and make a full recovery. Try me.” Jessica sighs, detailing the horrors of the night to this poor girl as she checked on her. She winced slightly when the girl grabbed the ankle that had twisted but otherwise, she was unharmed.

Just then the doors burst open and they wheeled Gil quickly out of the room. She stood up, ready to follow when the girl puts a hand on her shoulder. “They’re taking him back to the operating room. He just stabilized enough to move him.” The girl’s eyes fall to her hands, still stained a deep red with blood. “Other than a sprained ankle I think you’re perfectly fine. We’ll need to do an x-ray for confirmation but that can wait. Let’s get you cleaned up, ok?”

She nods, numbly following the girl to the nearest bathroom. She washes her hands wishing that she could get rid of the smell burning her nose. She knows it’s stained her dress and the shoes, even though they’re black she can still smell it.

“Does he have anyone you can call? A wife? Next of kin?” Jessica almost laughs.

“I’m his emergency contact.” She sighs. “His wife died three years ago. No children.”

“Well he was very lucky you were here. Not many people would know that much information. It was very helpful.”

“God, I need to call my son.” She looks around for her purse, surely she must have had it. Maybe she left it in the car. “He’s like a father to him he’s-” Oh god, Malcolm is probably on a plane by now. She’d given Gil the money to get him out of the country until his accusations cleared up. She needs to try. “Did you see my-”

Her question stops in her tracks as she remembers what happened again. She’d left her purse behind when she smashed the plate into Nicholas’ head. She stashed her phone inside when she tried to call 9-1-1.

“I lost my phone.” A bitter laugh escapes her. Tears fall all over again, ones of frustration at the world.

“You can borrow mine.” She makes a mental note to look into the girl later. Truly pay her back for the help that she’s given. “I can bring you to the waiting room if you’d like, maybe I can wait with you until your son comes.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” She smiles sadly. “You shouldn’t have to be alone right now.”

“Thank you.” She whispers.

Her fingers shake as she dials Malcolm’s number. She bites her lip as the phone rings twice, trying to think of what the hell she was supposed to say to him.

“Mother?”

She almost cries with relief. “Malcolm,” She sighs.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” She can almost see him sitting up, looking around in a panic.

“Gil’s in the hospital. He was stabbed.”

“I’m in Connecticut, I’ll be there as soon as possible. Don’t leave, it’s not safe. I’ll call Dani and JT so they can come to the hospital. They’ll sit with you until I can get there. Where’s Ainsley? Where’s your phone?”

The rapid fire statements throw her off as she catches up Malcolm on what happened. She almost loses all sense of where she is until she feels something heavy settle on her shoulders. The blanket is a welcome warmth against the frigid hospital air.

She calls Ainsley too but she’s stuck in the office until she can get out of the emergency press meeting. She promises to pick her up some clothes from the house before coming over after she gets off, though. It will be a welcome relief to get out of the dress that feels like it’s suffocating her. The intern, Tiff, has to leave shortly before either Dani or JT arrive, but it’s not without her having the ability to thank her for her kindness.

She will feel better when Malcolm and Ainsley both are there. Until then, she holds desperately onto what little control of her life she has left.

After all, it couldn’t possibly get worse.

#jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #gilssica #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #malcolm bright #prodigal son #prodigal son spoilers

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puckinghell · 5 years ago

Note

16 from the random list with tyson jost please!

For as long as JT Compher has been your friend, it’s a bit odd you’ve never met the team.

At least, that’s what JT told you, one evening during a Harry Potter marathon.

“I always invite you, but you never come. That’s weird, Y/N.”

To be honest, it’s not something you’ve ever really thought about. You’re sure JT’s teammates are great guys, but you’ve got your own social circle and you’ve never been super interested in extending that circle. Sure, when JT walked into the coffee shop you work at, he kinda accidentally became your friend and you weren’t gonna turn him away, but you’re not praying every night that you’ll end up best friends with a whole hockey team.

However.

JT can really put on the puppy eyes when he wants to and that’s how you ended up meeting his team anyway, after a game you attended in some bar that’s just dodgy enough that nobody is likely to bother the guys.

Of course, you are right: the guys are great and between the relaxed vibe of the bar, the bottles of beer that seem to keep coming and the chirping you manage to slip right into, you find yourself roped into a bi-monthly “team hang” that seems to include half the team holed up in Nathan MacKinnon’s house, playing video games.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, there’s one reason you let JT drag you to Nate’s get together, and that reason is currently sitting next to you on the couch, plastered against your side and eating literally all of the popcorn.

Tyson Jost is not only incredibly cute, he’s also really sweet, easy to talk to, and very funny. It turns out you have many things in common – growing up in a single parent household and accidentally becoming JT’s besties amongst them – and you knew about an hour after you met him that he was going to be a very important person in your life.

If only JT would stop smirking at you in that typical “you ain’t sly” fashion.

About halfway through the night and two beers in, you snap.

“Is there something you wanna say, Compher?”

The room instantly falls quiet; you already found out there’s nothing the Avs guys love more than a little drama, and Gabe is the first one that perks up.

“What is it, JT?”

“Oh, nothing,” JT drawls, one corner of his mouth lifted in a half smirk. “I just find it funny that my best friend hasn’t even looked at me all night.”

“Are you talking about Y/N or Josty?” Andre asks, innocently and not at all helpful.

“Both, it seems.” JT seems very proud of himself, but you simply glare at him.

“That’s cause Tyson is my favorite, J.”

Now it’s Tyson that perks up next to you. “Really? You met me yesterday.”

“Yes, and I would die for you. Next question?” you shoot in JT’s direction.

JT shrugs. “Nah, I think my work here is done.”

You sink back into the couch and watch someone – Nate? – murder Sammy’s character in game, and that gets the attention off you both; EJ makes a snide remark and suddenly everyone is chirping and yelling again.

It’s not til an hour later, that you’re standing in the kitchen to get another round of drinks, and there’s an amused voice from the kitchen door.

“Die for me, eh?”

You swirl around, pointing the top of the beer bottle at Josty and narrowing your eyes. “Don’t start with me. You might be my favorite Avs player now because JT is being a jerk, but it’s a close call.”

Tyson laughs and steps closer, taking one of the beers from the counter.

“How about if I take you out on a date tomorrow?” he asks, raising one eyebrow. “Would that put me pretty securely in first place?”

“Depends on the date,” you grin, quickly resting your hand on the top of his arm, and Tyson smiles.

“Guess I gotta bring my A game.”

---

Requests are now closed! If you wanna blacklist, these will be tagged ‘blurb’

#tyson jost #blurb #regular blurb

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prodigal-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

White Wedding - Malcolm Whitly/Bright - Part 2

flightlessbirdie suggested a part two so here we go! She also suggested using the song, Jackie and Wilson by Hozier during the actual wedding. This part is told from y/n’s view.

Warnings: None, fluff, kissing the bride, cuteness

Who would have thought this would happen, you think to yourself, the grand double doors in front of you practically looming over you. That I would ever get married, much less to someone as great as Malcolm. You and Malcolm had a bit of time to warm up to each other, him being a profiler consultant for the police department at the time you joined the team had him put seniority over you. You and JT had clicked almost immediately, and that intimidated Malcolm, who spent months struggling to get JT to warm up to him, and you came along, this gorgeous goddess, and had JT laughing and bringing your favorite coffees to work every day.

He never told you, but he got jealous. He was weary of the newcomer being of any use to the team, but admired your friendliness and how easy victims and suspects warmed up to you to talk to you in interrogations. You were astounded at his ability to form a profile and find the person that you were looking for with such ease, almost like he was a serial killer himself.

You knew about his past, his father, and everything. You watched the documentary his sister had done on their father, watched with suspicion as the patient that screamed off camera about wanting to be filmed stab the man that held the camera, and watched with realization as Martin Whitly, stereotypical narcissist, swoops in and saved the day, saving the cameraman. You didn’t buy any of it. It was clear the man planned to get the cameraman injured to save his life, look like a hero on a documentary spent villianizing him.

When you finally met Malcolm, the Prodigal Son (Dani had mentioned he referred to himself that way before), you couldn’t see it. You saw the signs of course, of a broken man with horrors embedded deep in his mind, the horrible PTSD he still struggles with so many years later, but you didn’t see his father. You never saw his father in him, the man he fought so hard to rid himself of. You saw this unique man that was smarter than anyone combined, one you wanted to get to know.

So the first time Edrisa came in the room and flirted with Malcolm, blatantly flirted with, you were surprised by the glare radiating from your eyes, toward the sweet girl, and was seething when Malcolm blushed, looking away from her, towards you. A glare he didn’t miss, which made his eyebrows furrow, and caused him to make a mental note and investigate further.

Which he did, he would read on flirting, because this kid couldn’t remember the last time he needed to flirt, and would come into work, having memorized your coffee order off of JT, present you with the warm beverage, and kneel down to your eye level, and whisper, “You look gorgeous today” before winking, straightening himself back up, and disappearing, leaving you flushed, flustered, and smiling.

So you, one not known for stepping down from a challenge, decided to up the ante. You picked him up in the morning to go to work every day, the same time every morning, without fail. He insisted you didn't have to, knowing the route was out of the way for you, but you did it anyway. He'd leave his home, see you sitting on the hood of your car, smiling softly, holding out a caffeinated drink enough to keep any normal person awake for six years, but perfect for him.

You would pull him into a hug, linger a couple seconds too long, and he would be hyper aware of your breath on his ear, before you would pull away and climb into the car. He fell in love with you quickly after that.

You, however, took longer. He was obviously in love with you for months before you even realized his flirting wasn't jokes anymore. It took a night out with Dani for you to realize. She had to practically create a PowerPoint presentation for you to see it, and even then you didn't believe it. You were nowhere near as intellectual as Edrisa, who was constantly with him at the precinct, or as pretty as Dani, who he bonded with over time. You just couldn't see it, you couldn't see him as possibly available, so you avoided feelings as much as possible.

So it came as a surprise when you had to save Malcolm from having a gun against his temple, because of course only Malcolm, and your chest hurt from the fear of losing him. The fear of seeing defeat in his eyes. His never left your own, saying all the words he couldn't. "Y/n..." His voice whispered out, almost a good bye, and you pulled the trigger, barely avoiding Malcolm's own temple, embedding into the man behind him.

Malcolm didn't even jump when the suspect collapsed, the gun going with it. He didn't even look away or blink. So you dropped your own gun, and kissed him. Kissed him like his life depended on it, in a way, it sort of did.

The sound of the doors creaking open pulled you from your reverie, and there is Malcolm, standing there at the end of the aisle, looking as gorgeous and perfect as always. JT holds your arm as you walk down the aisle, your best friend as your father is no longer here to do so. He would never admit it but you can see his eyes glowing with tears.

You two make it to Malcolm, and JT sends you off with a, "you hurt her, your dead, Bright" to which Malcolm cracks a smile to, before nodding. "I'd rather jump off a bridge myself, JT." He responds.

The ceremony is quiet, only the voice of the wedding officiator, Ainsley Whitly, who went through the process to be able to do this, only for Malcolm and your wedding. "We will now hear their vows" she says, turning to her brother. "Malcolm?"

He takes a deep breath, and locks eyes with you, just like when he had a gun to his head, except this time he looks excited. "I spent months trying to think of what to say and write down," he begins, "but this isn't something you can prepare to say. Y/n, I love you. You have changed my world, and have treated me like my own person, not like I was my father's son. So.... Thank you." The crowd behind you two chuckle, and you smile warmly.

"y/n?" Ainsley asks.

"unlike this man," I shoot a look to the man in front of me, "I prepared my vows, because I suck at speaking. Malcolm Whitly, I can't believe it took us this long to get here. I've never felt this way about anyone before, but I'm glad I found you, and you found me. We saved each other, in more ways than anything and I can't thank you enough. I love you so much." He leans down to kiss you but Ainsley swats him on the arm, causing the crowd to laugh. "Not yet!"

So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes

No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight

So deep in the swirl with the most familiar swine

For reasons wretched and divine

Malcolm and you were an awe to be seen on the dance floor, your first dance together, and Malcolm had picked a song he feels went beautifully for your relationship, the woman that saved him.

She blows out of nowhere, roman candle of the wild

Laughing away through my feeble disguise

No other version of me I would rather to be tonight

Lord she found me just in time

He holds you close, singing the lyrics softly in your ear, drowning out the noise around you. He sounds like an angel, with so much confidence you'd think he wrote the lyrics himself.

'Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done

I need to be youthfully felt, 'cause God I never felt young

She's gonna save me call me baby run her hands through my hair

She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily, but yet she wouldn't care

We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, ride round pickin' up clues

We'll name our children Jackie and Wilson, 'raise em on rhythm and blues

Lord it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime

Me and my isis growing black irises in the sunshine

Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside

Sit back and watch the world go by

Happy to lie back, watch it burn and rust

We tried to work, good God it wasn't for us

They don't hear anyone else anymore in the reception, can't see anyone else. All that is left is you and Malcolm, the Whitly's, the two that never let anything get in their way. It's now you two against the world.

She's gonna save me, call me baby, run her hands through my hair

She'll know me crazy soothe me daily but yet she wouldn't care

We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, ride round pickin' up clues

We'll name our children Jackie and Wilson, raise 'em on rhythm and Blues

Cut clean from the dream that night, let my mind reset

Looking up from the cigarette, she's already left

I start thinking of the art for what's left of me and our little vignette

For whatever pour soul is coming next

She's gonna save me, call me baby, run her hands through my hair

She'll know me crazy soothe me daily but yet she wouldn't care

We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, ride around pickin' up clues

We'll name our children Jackie and Wilson, raise 'em on rhythm and Blues

The song comes to a close and Malcolm ends the dance with you dipped, looking up at the man you chose to spend your life with. Your smiling at him and he's smiling at you. "We aren't naming our children Jackie and Wilson" You say as he pulls you up, kissing you.

He laughs and the sound is beautiful. "Of course not" he agrees, leaving his arms around you. "Mrs. Whitly"

- Send me more requests! -

#prodigal son imagine #prodigal son #malcolm whitly imagine #malcolm whitly smut #malcolm whitly x reader #malcolm whitly

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cyclone-rachel · 4 years ago

Text

Pay the Asking Price

a Supergirl fic

chapter 22

Read on AO3 here

Previous chapters

All things considered, it was a fairly ordinary night for James.

There were two guys trying to assault a woman and probably rob her, they may or may not have been armed (James intervened and took them out too quickly for him to be able to tell, and even if they had been, his armor would’ve been able to withstand almost anything they’d have), and he was able to save her.

But even though he was there to help, the woman he’d saved looked at him just as fearfully as she’d looked at the guys he was protecting her from, and ran away without giving him a chance to defend himself.

He’d told her he was there to help… but it didn’t seem like she believed him.

No, forget that. She definitely didn’t believe him, and though it wasn’t always a problem, depending on who he saved, it had pretty much been one since he became the Guardian.

“James? Police are on their way, buddy.” Winn said, through his comms.

“Are you alright?” Brainy asked. “James?”

“Let’s call it a night.” James answered, staring at the police cars that were arriving.

Then, he headed back for the van, admitting temporary defeat.

“Okay. I mean, I love him. I do. I... I love him. But come on. JT has got to be the only one holding up the reunion right now.” Kara said, sitting across from Lena as they had lunch just outside of Catco. She didn’t know how long it had taken for her and Lena to discover they’d shared a favorite boy band (Kara had found them while trying to catch up on Earth pop culture right after she moved in with the Danvers, and Lena had listened to them as a little rebellion since Lillian didn’t think they were sophisticated enough for her to listen to, but she found her ways nonetheless) but now it had opened discussion topics a little more, and Kara was glad for it.

(Especially since there was a whole part of her life that she couldn’t talk about with her at all)

“Oh, obviously. Here, but let me ask you this, right? Would you rather have an NSync reunion, or JT and Britney back together?” Lena asked.

“Ugh! They were my favorites! That's an impossible question to answer, and you are cruel for asking.”

“Yeah. Well, you know, sometimes my Luthor genes just shine through.”

Kara and Lena both laughed.

“Thanks for catching lunch with me.”

“Well, since I canceled on you the last three times and you said you couldn't get away, I figured you were worth the extra effort.”

“Yeah, what's keeping you so busy?”

Things I couldn’t possibly explain.

“It's top secret.”

“Intriguing.”

“As soon as I can tell anyone anything, you will get an exclusive.”

Kara didn’t want to press her for details, but one look that she thought was charming later, and she got Lena to admit something.

“…I'm working with a new partner.”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, she's... She's fantastic. It's... It's like having a mentor; you know? You'll... You'll love her. Promise.”

That’s one way of describing her.

“You got to give me something. I have to have something to look forward to.”

“Okay. Something to look forward to. What do you know about quantum entanglement?” Lena asked, leaning forward on the table.

Kara Zor-El knows all about it. But… Kara Danvers probably shouldn’t.

“"Quantum" wh...” Kara asked, purposefully.

“Polyatomic anions? Well, when you see what we're doing with them- it will blow you away.”

“I can't wait.”

“Oh. Actually, this is... This is her.” Lena said, as her phone vibrated on the table, and she read the name Fabala on the caller ID.

“I'm gonna have to go, 'cause we're doing our first test today.”

“Oh, it was so good to see you.” Kara said, as she and Lena hugged, and Lena ignored the phone as it continued ringing. “Next time, lunch is on me.”

“Okay. Cool.” Lena said, picking up the phone as she left. “Bye!”

Kara watched her go, still wondering who exactly she was working with- and what she had planned.

But Lena was her friend, secrets or no, and whatever it was, she had promised Kara would be the first to know about it.

Certainly, it was going to be good, because Lena was.

Right?

“Hey, hey! Look who it is.” Winn announced cheerfully as soon as he saw James in the park in the middle of National City, holding an umbrella in one hand and a falafel in the other. “You know what? I love these falafels. Do you? Because they are, like, the best in the city. I gotta say.”

“I concur.” Brainy answered, from beside Winn. “And I have tried every one available here, but the Biyalyan falafels are indeed superior.”

“Yeah, they are the best in the city. You know that because I told you about this falafel stand.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, you did. And I'm totally stalking you because, dude, what happened? Last night you were just... You were just, like, one and done. That's not like you.”

“In all honestly, that woman was more afraid of Guardian than she was of her attackers.”

“That can't be true.”

“No, dude, you didn't see her.”

“We did. And I'm sure she was in shock.” Querl said.

“Yeah, but it's... It's bigger than that. It's... It's happening a lot. So, people see this big guy in this scary mask and they freak out, they run away. Just like Clark's friend.”

Just like me, Querl thought.

“Oh, you mean...” Winn said, miming the appearance of bat ears with one hand, the other still holding his umbrella. But Querl understood who he was referring to, and he got the feeling that James knew too. “I feel like they're more frenemies.”

“You know what I mean. It's just that Guardian is not... He's not this beacon of hope that I thought he would be. I mean, basically, all I'm doing is beating people up.”

“Whoa, dude, we are... We are doing a lot of good here. We... We're making a difference.” Winn said, attempting to lighten the situation.

“I mean, Supergirl, Superman, they're making a difference. They're changing hearts and minds. They inspire people. Guardian inspires fear.”

“Just like Winn’s father?” Querl said. “He did, as well- but Winn has done a lot of good with the skills he has. And… I admit, I had the same problem as you. Well, a slightly different one- nobody would trust the Brainiac heir with saving their lives. They always believed I had an ulterior motive, that I wanted something from them. They couldn’t let themselves think otherwise. As you would say, Winn, no good deed went unpunished.”

Winn smiled, just a little bit, and gave him an underhanded high-five, before James looked over at them both, undeterred.

“Winn hides behind a computer screen and in a van.” He said. “Nobody sees his face anyway. And you, Brainy? At least you have technology to change yours. I’m… I’m just me.”

I didn’t always.

But then came what seemed to be an earthquake, and a woman psychically throwing a man into a fruit and vegetable stand, which collapsed immediately.

“Everybody get out of here!” James yelled, as people seemed to listen to him- or they went on their own volition, out of panic. “Go, go, go, go, go! Get out of here, get out of here, go!”

Winn braced himself against a table, and Brainy joined him.

“This is Agent Schott and Agent Dox, we have a possibly hostile telekinetic in Simmons Square.” Winn said into his communicator, hoping that if Alex or J’onn weren’t listening, at least Kara was.

“Let’s go, get out of here!” Querl shouted, making sure that the remaining civilians heard him as well. There were more civilians in the paths of dangerous objects, and James did his best to make sure they didn’t get hurt, pushing one couple out of the way of a hot dog stand. The telekinetic launched a pick-up truck into the air as well, after toppling another car, but right on time, Supergirl caught the truck, to the applause of all who were watching her there.

“Hey. Where’d the alien go?” Winn asked, as James and Querl stood watching Supergirl. “She’s gone.”

“I don’t know.” James said.

Alien Terrorist Attack, was the headline as footage of it aired on one of the DEO’s monitors.

“Authorities are investigating a targeted alien terrorist attack that occurred earlier today. Law enforcement has no leads on the identity of the alien or motive, but tensions are on the rise as fear of another attack...” the reporter on TV read, and Alex and J’onn watched for a moment before turning away from it.

“If the news keeps stirring up fear, there's gonna be a witch hunt for whoever this alien is. Things could get out of hand very fast.”

“Okay.” Winn started, from the other side of the table. “So, we figured out what kind of alien she is- She's a Phorian.”

“A what?” Alex asked.

“I never realized any had taken refuge here on Earth. Historically, they're a peaceful race of aliens.” J’onn added.

“Today, not so peaceful.” James said.

“Thank God Supergirl was there. Hundreds could've been hurt.”

We were there too, James thought. I helped, even if I didn’t catch any flying trucks or hit anyone with heat vision.

“Normally, their telekinetic powers are benign.” J’onn continued. “I've never heard of a Phorian doing so much damage.”

“And they're also telepathic like Martians. They are connected through their thoughts.” Winn added.

“Do you think more of them will attack?”

“For now, let's just treat this as a lone-wolf situation.” J’onn answered Alex.

“So, how do we find her?”

“Supergirl and Brainiac-5 are out surveying the city to see if they can come up with anything.”

“I'd be happy to help. I can get out there and see if there's any leads.”

“Mr. Olsen, you've been very helpful. But this is a DEO matter. We'll let you know if we need Guardian's skill set, but for now...”

“I got it.” James answered, resigned, as he left.

But DEO or not, he wasn’t giving up, and he knew there was at least one person who always had his back.

“Today was just our first test. You can't expect it to be perfect on the first attempt.” Fabala explained to a dejected-looking Lena, as they sat down for another expensive dinner at the restaurant where they’d made their partnership official.

“I quadruple checked my calculations on this, okay? The reaction of the polyatomic anions was supposed to be strong enough to spark the core of the generator.” Lena shot back, placing the tablet she’d used to work on the project beside her on the table.

“Neither of us has gotten to where we are without persistence.” Fabala said, voice even.

“If I can't make this work, we won't be able to power the portal that we're building. This was supposed to revolutionize the way everything was transported, eliminate famine, the need for fossil fuels. I wanted to help my planet, and get you home to your time.”

“And you will.” Fabala reassured, attempting to make her voice gentle as Lena’s face displayed an unusual expression- both skeptical and sad. (Talking to her in such a manner was as if, albeit years ago in such a scenario, she was talking to her own son, before her husband got it in his head that she was the one not to be trusted in their family.

Even though she was the one true Brainiac 4, and he was the outsider, who’d only gotten the title after he married her.)

“You're making advancements in science that most people on Earth could not even dream of. No one said it would be easy.”

“What if I can't make it work? What if I can't get you home?”

“I have confidence in you, Lena.”

Now that, she knew from Lena’s face that she had never heard before. Fabala stood up from the table, then. “I am going to the test facility to check the progress of the portal.” She said, stepping around the table to lift Lena’s chin up, cradle it in her hand as Lena looked at her with a soft, unknowing smile.

“I know you don't believe it yet, but you're going to make this work.”

She left, smiling back at Lena, before any trace of warmth left her face and she focused once more on her true plan.

Querl knew he wasn’t supposed to be wandering the streets of National City alone.

Especially not at night- but he’d just purchased an ice cream cone, upon Kara’s recommendation, and of course he was going to make sure to eat it as soon as possible, which meant doing so without the distraction of going into another restaurant, or a shop, or a bar.

So he continued walking, making sure he didn’t get what Kara referred to as “brain freeze”- he already had to deal with one, or more accurately three, things interfering with his brain, and though this may not have been literal he did not want it inflicted upon him either- and as he passed by one restaurant in particular, he saw someone who was unmistakable to him.

Even with the image inducer she was wearing, he still noticed her features- almost regal posture, formal clothing, the way she looked at passersby with disdain. Her dark hair, and cold eyes…

And in the distraction, someone had knocked over his ice cream cone, and it currently lay on the ground.

(But that, at least, was able to be replaced, and seeing her even after she said she was going to leave… this was far more important.)

She was gone just as soon as she had appeared, though. But he wouldn’t forget her face, and so with such an image fresh in his mind, he set off for the DEO.

James knew he should be staying out of things.

He should give the Phorian woman’s address to the DEO, and Alex or J’onn, or a team they would send in, would find her and bring her in to make sure she was safe, that nobody else got hurt.

But as much respect as he had for them, they also didn’t handle things well all the time, especially with cases like this. So after finding her location thanks to an interrupted drug deal, he was taking matters into his own hands.

And when the door opened behind him to reveal not the woman, but someone who appeared to be her young son, he was glad there weren’t a bunch of DEO agents in the apartment with him.

The child was clearly panicking, trying to open the door as soon as he saw James.

“It’s okay.” James said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He got down to the child’s level, before taking off his helmet, and he seemed to relax.

“It’s alright, see?” he asked. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He reached out and touched James’s face, and James could only keep eye contact with him, and hold his hand.

It took some convincing, but James had gotten him to the DEO- where he found out the child’s name was Marcus- and now Marcus was alone with Alex, who was attempting to ask him where his mother was.

But he stayed silent, through all of her attempts, and though Alex hoped to be a mother someday, with her own kids… she sure wasn’t getting through to this one.

Or maybe it wasn’t her fault. Maybe he was just shy, or more used to communicating only through thoughts, she wasn’t sure.

Whatever the case, it was getting nowhere, and she needed a different approach.

“Maybe she should give him some action figures, right?” Winn said, as he, Brainy, James, and J’onn observed the interrogation from the outside. “Like… if somebody had given me action figures when they interrogated me about my dad when I was 11, I would… I would’ve sung like a canary, I’m just saying.”

“I was interrogated once.” Querl murmured. “Bribery or no, it is terrifying at any age- no matter which planet it is taking place on.”

Although Alex is certainly no Emerald Bloodeater.

“Brainy has the right idea.” James said. “This kid is completely shut down. And pulling him into an interrogation room like some criminal off the street, I don't think is the best way to get him to open up.” “So, you're not only a masked vigilante and a photographer, you're also a child psychologist now.”

“I'm just saying this kid's life has been upended badly. Okay, first, he's a refugee. Then his mom ends up missing. And if he's turned on the TV at all since yesterday, all he's seen are adults yelling about her, calling for blood. I wouldn't trust anybody either, if I was this kid.”

“James is right.” Alex said, as she exited the interrogation room. “I’ve been in there for hours, and all he does is just stare at the camera.”

Alex looked back, at the screen projecting the footage from that room, and sure enough, Marcus was staring at the camera. Almost through the camera, really- and not even at Alex herself.

“He’s looking at you.” She said, looking over at James.

James laughed, almost unable to believe it.

Even though, of course, he was very familiar with the impossible, and this was just one more thing to add to that list.

“At me? Through a wall, Alex?” he asked.

James stepped forward, with Alex behind him, and looked at the screen again.

“He’s an alien with telekinetic and telepathic powers.” She said. “You said that he connected with you.” “He thought the Guardian was a monster, and then I took my helmet off, and I guess he saw someone who looked like him.” James explained.

“He identified with you, James.”

And you remind me of my sister right now. James thought, as Alex addressed him directly.

“Are you saying you want Mr. Olsen to question the boy?” Querl asked.

“Well, Marcus doesn't trust me. Okay? But he could trust James. I mean, out of here. In a more conducive environment. We have to find his mother before she attacks again.” Alex insisted.

“If I can help this kid, I'd like to.”

“All right. Take the day, see if you can find out where the boy's mother is. We'll check in with you later.” J’onn said, and soon it was just Alex and James there, with Marcus still sitting in the interrogation room, all alone.

Or not alone, judging by the way Marcus was still looking at him, like he could read his thoughts through a wall, through the computer screen.

“Hey... You'll be good with him.” Alex said.

Yeah. Or at least I’ll try.

Winn was whistling, when Brainy caught up with him.

“Hello, Winslow.” He said, walking towards him as Winn sat down in his chair.

“Dude, it’s still just Winn. We’re friends now, you’re allowed to use my nickname.”

“Right. Given the argument Kara and I got into once she found out the truth regarding my purpose here… but you are not a part of that, and have nothing against me for it.” Querl realized.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Besides, your mom’s gone, isn’t she?”

“That is what I wanted to know. Can you scan the Earth’s orbit for her cruiser? Or is that technology too advanced for the twenty-first century?”

Winn sighed.

“No, no, here at the DEO we scan for many things.” He said. “And as for your parents’ ship, I certainly could, but I already did that when they led us back to Earth. I tracked their progress as they went out of Earth's atmosphere and flew away to Colu, and the future. Bye-bye.”

Winn mock-waved, when he said that, and Querl grew more concerned.

“Could you… do it again, just to be sure?”

“Alright, if you insist.” Winn said, pulling up the current image on the screen. “See? Look. It’s a bunch of satellites. The skies are clear.”

“Yes, that is… what I thought.” Querl answered, even if he wasn’t reassured at all. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Winn said, smiling at his friend. “So, hey, why did you ask?”

But Brainy was already gone.

Maybe I should work on our scanning tech. If the possibility of her being here makes him afraid…

But she’s not here.

Isn’t she?

Lena touched a button on her tablet, as the construction above her whirred to life.

And, just as quickly, there were a series of small explosions, sending showers of sparks into the air and shutting it down just as quickly.

Lena threw her tablet on her desk in frustration, as Fabala came up to her.

“Still isn't working?” she asked, almost like she never expected it to.

“Was it me throwing it down in disgust or the sparks that gave it away?” Lena asked, unable to take her eyes off it, imagining how she could fix it, and make it work better.

“Can you give us a minute?” Fabala asked to the humans working on the project, and they did, allowing her more concentration on the matter at hand as she turned back to her new work partner.

“Failure is a part of the process, Lena. I told you this was going to take time.” She said when she did, again trying to keep her voice gentle, placing a hand on Lena’s shoulder.

“It's not about time. I'm just not getting it.” Lena answered, clearly unreceptive to any encouragement. “You know, maybe we should pay a visit to Stryker Island. Get Lex Luthor to come in and save the day.” “You think he could get this working?” Fabala asked.

“Lex was the genius who was supposed to save the world. You know, I... I just thought if I could make this work, I would prove to the world and to my mother that I was as good as the golden boy. I think most of all, I just wanted to prove it to myself.”

“You don't have to prove anything.” Fabala insisted- though part of her only wanted Lex to stay away from the project because he knew her family, knew who she really was, just as Lena did. That would certainly lead to a failure. “You're smarter than Lex.”

But nothing compared to me.

Lena only laughed, as Fabala gazed up at the project, before looking back at Lena.

“No. I'm not saying that to make you feel better. I'm saying it as a scientist. As someone who knows. But you need to stop trying to think like your brother. From what you've told me about Lex, he's a man who's concerned with power. And that's how you've been trying to fix this. Give it more power, you think it will work.”

“Yeah, but it just keeps blowing.” Lena said.

Fabala placed a hand on her shoulder again.

“But you're not a person who's consumed with power. Are you?”

Lena didn’t answer, only giving her a tight smile.

“So, if you weren't trying to do what Lex would do, what would you do?”

Lena felt herself being tested- knew those kinds of questions, was very used to answering them- but from someone who was even smarter than Lex, the pressure was even more intense. Still, she found an answer.

“I'd try to find a way to increase the anion input without overloading the energy output. All while maintaining the element synthesis rate at a constant.”

Fabala’s expression lit up, and Lena knew she’d gotten it right.

“Not power. Balance.”

Lena smiled back, and got to work, as Fabala was left looking up at the project again.

Soon.

Bringing Marcus to Catco, James reflected after remembering just how many monitors displaying the news there were in his office, might not have been the best idea.

It had started out well, with him introducing Marcus to Kara (Marcus was still quiet, though now he expected it) and Eve Tessmacher even believed Marcus was his nephew, bringing both of them some food from Noonan’s.

James especially liked getting to show Marcus the game he had on his desk, and the old camera he had. Marcus seemed to like the camera as well, taking a picture of James with it.

And just when Marcus finally spoke, telling James that his own father was a soldier, and had died when he and his mother were escaping their planet… James thought Marcus was going to be okay, and that nothing could go wrong.

Meanwhile, Querl arrived back at Catco, dropping a large bag of Chinese food off for Kara.

It was plenty sweet, and there was no way Kara was turning this down. But he seemed worried, and unsure of himself, and Kara was definitely concerned.

“I, ah… I thought I saw my mother last night.” He admitted.

Oh. That’s it.

“I didn't. Don't worry. Winn and I checked, and my parents' ship definitely had left for Colu and the thirty-first century a few weeks ago. But thinking I saw her, it... I thought it would make me feel anger. But I felt… conflicted. I just... I hate... I hate that I still care about her, even if she wants me dead.”

“Hey, we can't will ourselves to not feel anything. Life doesn't work like that.” Kara answered gently.

Certainly didn’t work on Krypton.

“On Colu, that's exactly what we would do. We…” A hand automatically went up to his forehead, the personality inhibitors located there. Still affecting him, reminding him every day that he wasn’t the man he was meant to be, and had almost never been. But she didn’t know about that yet, and perhaps he would never tell her. “We trained ourselves to suppress our emotions- illogical ones, especially- so we literally didn't feel anything.”

Kara placed her hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it when she saw the distress on his face, even if she didn’t quite know the source.

“You're allowed to miss her. She is your mother.”

“Well, she's gone forever. So...”

She may not be. But, for now, I choose to hope- however much said hope may be unfounded.

Fabala watched Lena once more as she worked.

“If my mother had given me pep talks like you, imagine the things I could've done.” Lena said once she paused, noticing her there.

“I'm happy to have mused you. But trust me, it isn't always easy being the parent we aspire to be.” Fabala answered.

Especially if you had a husband like mine.

“Shall we test it again?”

“Let me just plug in the algorithm and fire it up.” Lena said, excited. She went off to do just that, and Fabala waited, pressing the button that let her see outside- to the portal structure Lena and her team had built.

James was teaching Marcus how to use another one of his old cameras, when it happened.

Marcus was going to take a picture of James… but in his peripheral vision, he saw the news reports of his mother. The ones that referred to her as a terrorist, and said that the hunt for her was continuing.

He put the camera down, and James turned the TV off, hoping that that would be the end of it- at least, until another news station, on another Catco monitor, displayed her story again.

But he was still able to turn all of the TVs off, and if it made Marcus more comfortable, he would.

Until then, though, Eve had arrived with the food he’d asked for, and maybe now both of them could enjoy it in peace.

“Here goes nothing.” Lena said, as she started the next- and hopefully explosion-free- test, increasing the power as the machine whirred to life again and the portal started up outside.

The milkshakes exploded onto Eve’s clothes, and she shrieked as she dropped the bag. James didn’t know why at first, and then as pieces of paper began hovering in the air, flying around the room. The curtains had begun to move too, and all the TVs were showing static, as when James looked over at him, Marcus’s eyes were glowing purple.

“What is your nephew doing?” Eve asked, clearly panicked.

He began to walk towards them, as James tried to calm him down.

But it wasn’t working, and behind Marcus, a light fixture fell from Cat’s office ceiling and landed on her coffee table.

Eve dove under a desk, and though James tried to get to Marcus, he was thrown back.

“Power’s running smoothly to the core.” Lena said, elated. “And the anions are reacting at a steady rate!”

Marcus had begun to hover in the air, as Kara and Querl ran in.

“You know anything about Phorians?” Kara asked him.

“I do- but there are civilians here, and I must remain in my Quentin Richards persona. I will try to help here- you should go.”

Kara nodded, and was off, while he attempted to get people out, and keep the damage to a minimum.

Even as that floor of the building looked like it could collapse.

Querl got James out of the range of falling debris, and Kara came in as Supergirl, carrying Marcus out of Catco.

“It’s working.” Fabala said, awed by it in spite of herself.

Lena powered the portal down.

“We did it.” She said, confidence restored.

“You did it.” Fabala corrected, as they smiled at one another.

Marcus had seemed to calm down, and once his eyes weren’t glowing, Kara knew things were going to be better.

“Hey. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Kara said to him, holding onto him tightly. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

He seemed to believe her, and she flew him to the DEO.

It was clear, watching Marcus sit dejected in one of the DEO’s cells, that something was wrong- and Kara knew it.

Both Marcus and his mother seemed to be victims- but of what, they didn’t know yet. And even though Marcus was safe, his mother was still out in the city, and whatever was happening to both of them could very well happen again, and put them and everyone else at risk.

Until then though, they could only wait, and Marcus had to remain in the cell as the others looked for his mother.

And though James had believed he could help… Marcus still wasn’t speaking to him much, and he felt purposeless, unable to do anything at all.

J’onn caught him by surprise though, when James was trying to leave- telling him the story of how he too had felt directionless, until he had his first daughter and decided to make a difference as the Martian Manhunter.

Going by that timeline, it certainly wasn’t too late for James to figure his hero self out- and it seemed that whatever his own purpose was, helping Marcus had something to do with it.

He only hoped that he could realize it, before Marcus’s mother ran out of time.

“We've been searching the city for signs of another attack, nothing yet.” Kara said, as she and Querl arrived in the DEO’s command center.

“Have you two found anything?” J’onn asked.

“We looked into the Phorian's physiology. Turns out that a major shift in atmospheric energy can cause a change in their mental state.” Alex said.

“Yes. But on Earth, what causes a shift like that?” Querl asked her.

“Okay.” Winn said, pulling up charts on the screen. “So, this measures electromagnetic activity around the city.”

“There was a large spike around the time of the first fight on the street yesterday.” Alex added.

“And let me guess, another spike during the attack on CatCo today?”

“Hey, good guess.” Winn said to Kara, as she leaned over the table in the middle of the room. “But that spike was about five times the size.”

“Have we determined what caused the spike?”

“Yes. High levels of polyatomic anions released in the atmosphere.” Winn said- and as soon as he mentioned it, Kara froze up, staring at the rest of the group.

“Wait. I... I saw Lena. She said she's working on a new project. She mentioned those anions.”

“That can't be a coincidence, can it?” Querl asked her.

“Definitely not. I'm gonna call Lena.” She said, and started to type in Lena’s number.

But it wasn’t Lena who answered the phone.

“Hello, Supergirl.”

“Fabala?”

Kara sounded alarmed as she said her name, making Alex and Querl wary too.

“You sound surprised.” Fabala answered. And she was- even if Querl was worried about her return, she’d told him everything was fine. He’d assured himself everything was fine… but it wasn’t.

“Trace the call.” Alex said, and Winn and Querl were on it.

“If you've done anything to Lena...” she started, focusing on the conversation at hand again.

“You'll what, lecture me?”

“We will find you.” Kara corrected, voice tight with emotions ready to burst from her.

“You have no idea where I am or what I'm doing. How does it feel… to be powerless?”

The gloating is definitely worse.

“If this is about Querl, you have to come to terms with the fact that he chose to stay here.”

“No, he made a choice to come home, to be a hero to his people. And we would have been happy to go, but you were too selfish to allow that.”

“What's she saying?” Querl asked, and Kara turned the speakerphone on, so he could hear his mother’s voice.

“Everything I do, I do for my people. Everything you do for yours is to bolster your broken ego. You need this planet to worship you, the last daughter of a failed world, because otherwise, your survival means nothing. Just like the Kryptonians who came before you, who forced my people to bend the knee to yours.”

“You're delusional.” Kara said, trying to ignore what she’d said about her people.

(Even if, as she’d discovered this year, there were some things that Fabala might have been right about)

Fabala laughed softly.

“No. On the contrary, I see everything clearly. I came here in peace, which you refused. And all of the ugliness that's transpired is because of your righteousness, Kara Zor-El. Everything that happens from now on is your doing. Every city that burns, every nation that falls, for every child of Earth that cries out, "Why is this happening?" The answer is Supergirl.”

“Kara has done nothing. This is… this is your doing.” Querl said, as Kara handed him the phone.

“Oh, of course you're there with her.” Fabala said, sounding exasperated when she heard her son. “The Kryptonian girl who bewitched you.”

“Mother, you're... Your quarrel is with me, is it not? Don't... Don't take it out on this planet. You are better than this. Or at least you were.”

“Anger has nothing to do with what I'm doing.”

“Then why? Why are you still here?”

Fabala’s answer was concise, and afterwards, she hung up.

“I'm here to wake you up, Brainiac 5.”

“Did you manage to trace the call?” J’onn asked, once it was done.

“No. There was too much electromagnetic interference.” Winn admitted, sighing.

“Was that my phone?” Lena asked, as Fabala deleted Kara Danvers’s number from her contact information, clearly having missed the conversation she’d had.

“Yes… it was just a telemarketer.” Fabala answered before handing the phone back. “No one to worry about.”

Lena looked relieved, and she continued to work, none the wiser.

“Okay, we're now monitoring all electromagnetic activity within the region.” Alex said, from her desk. “If anyone powers up this device, we're gonna know exactly where they are.”

“Good. Then we can strike.” J’onn answered.

“Marcus knows where his mom is, but he's gotta take us to her.” James explained, after having left Marcus’s cell.

“I'm afraid I can't let him out of here. Brainiac 5's mother created some sort of device with Lena Luthor, and she could set it off at any moment. It's just not safe for Marcus outside of containment.”

“But his mom is still out there.” James argued.

Winn, thankfully, volunteered to go with him, even contributing a mobile version of the telekinetic dampener.

J’onn thought it was too risky- but this was James’s mission, and J’onn knew that he had to let him and Winn go.

“Be safe, James.”

“Thank you.”

It was worth it to see Marcus and his mother reuniting, and although there were a lot more Phorians than expected, James hoped that he and Winn could keep them all safe from what was happening outside.

“Tomorrow we could begin the material trials.” Lena said, but Fabala didn’t seem terribly excited about it, only looking at the machine again with a calm, cold expression.

“I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that success means that you're leaving. Working with you has meant so much to me.”

“…Me too. Whatever happens next, I want you to remember never to doubt yourself again. You are a marvel, Lena. Any mother should be proud to call you daughter.”

Certainly more than I can say about my son.

“Wait, wait… what are you doing?” Lena asked, as Fabala began to activate the portal again.

“We got something! A huge release of anions.”

“Where?”

“San Isidro Valley.” Alex said.

“You got a satellite image for that?”

She did, and Querl pulled it up on the screen.

“What is that?”

But it was clear that none of them knew- whatever it was, though, they were going to find out soon.

“Let's go.” Kara said, turning to J’onn.

“Right on.” He answered.

“My mother...” Querl said, watching the screen.

“I know this is going to be hard. You don't have to do this.” Kara told him.

“No, I have to. I just... I need to grab something first.” Querl answered, and Kara let him go.

Meanwhile, Winn tried to activate the dampener- but it wasn’t meant for twelve people, so they were going to have to find another way.

And, it seemed, James was going to try something. How well it would work, he wasn’t sure, but… Alex and J’onn both said he and Marcus had a connection.

He might as well try and use it, and hope everything worked out.

Fabala stood before the machine, Lena’s tablet in her hands, while Lena looked at the computers before her, exasperated.

“Why won’t it shut down?” She stared over the screens, at Fabala, while Fabala barely turned to acknowledge her presence. “What did you do?”

“What I had to do.” She said. “For my people. I want you to know, the affection I had for you… could never have been real.”

J’onn, Querl, and Kara landed then, crashing down inside the building.

“Turn it off.” Kara demanded.

“I can’t.” Lena said, looking at her helplessly. She knew how bad this looked- just months ago she’d been framed for helping a criminal, and imprisoned because everyone thought she was just like her family. But she’d never wanted things to go this far, and she hoped Kara would see that.

Querl looked first at the energy generator, then at the portal outside, realizing what his mother may have been planning- and then at Kara, who tried taking the generator down by force.

“Why won’t it turn off?” J’onn asked.

“I don’t know; she must’ve made it self-sustaining somehow.” Lena said.

“What did you do, Mother?”

“You’re a twelfth-level intellect, just like me.” Fabala answered. “You figure it out.”

James wasn’t going to break his promise. No matter the circumstances- the building threatening to come down, the telepathic energy overwhelming the dampener- he was going to keep Marcus and his mother safe.

And he made sure Marcus knew that.

“You’re bringing something here.” Querl said.

“What?”

“You’ll see.” Fabala answered.

Kara flew towards Fabala, trying to pin her to a wall- but she managed to kick Querl out of the way, and turn herself and Kara around, sending Kara into a column and knocking a shelf onto Lena.

It didn’t look like it had hit her directly, but she was out cold- Kara didn’t have time to worry about her, though, as she dodged the fist that Fabala had sent into that same column.

Kara managed to get a good hit in on Fabala, and she was out for the moment- giving Kara time to get outside, and meet whoever or whatever was coming out of the portal.

It didn’t seem like it was working. Marcus was still unresponsive, and wasn’t letting him in.

James knew he should give up- that was the logical response. But he wasn’t going to, not this time.

He wasn’t giving up on Marcus.

Kara flew in front of the portal, its purple glow illuminating her as she attempted to shoot heat vision at it.

She knew, probably, that it wouldn’t do anything- the portal was so big, it would take multiple versions of herself, all firing at the same time, to take it down. But she wanted to try, to slow it down somehow, and it was the only option she could see at the time.

The energy backfired on her, and sent her crashing to the ground, with no other backup plan.

“You don’t mess with my family.” J’onn said, seeing what Fabala’s portal had done to Kara. He tried to run at Fabala, but she had some kind of device in her hand- and when she pressed it, J’onn stopped moving, his eyes glowing a dull red.

“What is that?”

“A White Martian gave me this.” Fabala answered her son.

“What are you doing?”

J’onn shapeshifted back into his true form, and though he fell to his knees, it was clear he wasn’t in control of any kind of action at the moment.

“The White Martians developed this technology in order to keep the Greens under their control. It traps a Martian in his own mind. A never-ending nightmare. Pretty savvy if you ask me.” She continued.

J’onn fell over completely, and Querl rushed to his side.

“J’onn…” he said, looking over him- hoping that he could help him, in some way.

“You’ve learned a lot of things about this world, Mother.” He continued, getting up to face her.

“I’ve had to.”

“And did you learn humans have a weapon we’re vulnerable to?” he said, aiming his taser at her.

Fabala only laughed.

“My darling boy. You would not kill me with that pathetic thing.”

“I am considering it.” Querl answered, hand steady on the taser.

“You just have to look inside of yourself and see the strength and the courage that I see in you. You're not alone. You are not alone!”

Marcus’s eyes stopped glowing, and he collapsed into James’s arms- and James hugged him back, so relieved he thought he might start crying.

Around him, the other Phorians also regained control, and Marcus hugged his mother.

“That is a hero… without a suit.” Winn said. “And I love him.”

James only smiled at him, relieved- knowing that he’d done his job, and things would be okay.

“Put the taser down, Querl.” Fabala said. “You do not want to hurt me.”

“You really believe that?”

“The Kryptonian girl was right.” She continued. “I know all about your little Legion, and your precious moral code. You’re all gooey hero on the inside, a hero of Earth- or at least, that’s who you pretend to be. Would a hero kill his own mother?”

Querl didn’t answer, and she went on.

“When you were a boy and I would put you to sleep at night, you used to say to me that you would always love me. And even though you've turned your back on me, I know you love me.”

That was before I found out that you bottled worlds.

“Where's Father?” Querl asked, quietly. He repeated the question, when Fabala stayed silent.

“Where is my father?”

Fabala sounded emotional, when she spoke- and he almost thought she wasn’t lying.

“Your father was so hurt when you abandoned us that he took his own life.”

“No…”

“Querl, you are not going to kill me.” Fabala continued, putting her hands on the taser. “Whatever you think of me, I'm still your mother.”

He knew he shouldn’t listen to her. He knew, if she died at his hand, people would likely praise him for doing so- calling him a hero, for extinguishing her life.

But others could still call him just as much of a Brainiac, whether he killed her or not, and though he had said before that killing her was a solution he could choose… he still put the taser down, and she reached for him, nearly embracing him.

(though there was no love in that gesture)

Fabala turned away from him, and towards the portal.

“Since you were dishonest in revealing your motive for coming here, I figured that I could, too- but now I suppose I can tell you that Brainiac is still dead. The AI plague does not exist. But even so, I wanted to see how long it would take for you to realize that, and reveal that you wouldn’t truly help your own family or your world, if we were at risk of extinction.”

“I suspected all along.” Querl said.

“I see. Perhaps the inhibitors have not affected you as much as I thought.” She answered. “The fact remains that, as the smartest beings on our world, we ought to be ruling it- and, if I could not amass an army by their own choice, I might as well take it from them, and take control anyway. Thousands of Coluans, linked through our collective consciousness… with some help, of course. Astra In-Ze may have been Kryptonian, and may have been a part of the reason why one of our relatives was sent to Fort Rozz, but I admit she had the right idea, in one case.”

“You are using Myriad.”

“I am.” She admitted, as the Coluan cruisers began to fly through the portal. “We have hundreds of ships- they just needed a way to get here.”

Kara got up, looking at the ships overhead.

There were so many of them, it was hard to keep track of exact numbers- and most of them seemed to be relatively small.

But there was no mistaking the last one for being small. In fact, it was almost the size of the portal itself, and resembled a skull, with a huge, gaping mouth.

“Agent Danvers...” Demos said, as his computer began beeping, the radar scan map he’d pulled up suddenly showing activity.

“Yeah.”

“We have multiple bogies heading into National City.”

“How many?” Alex asked, standing closer to the computer so she could get a better look.

“Twenty-five, No... fifty, a hundred… Maybe more. What’s happening?”

But Alex had no answer for him.

“Welcome…” Fabala said, watching the ships arrive, as Querl felt even more helpless than he had before in this century. “To the future Bottled National City.”

#papa don't look #supergirl #supergirl season 2 #fanfics #supergirl au #woooo this one got really long #also this was supposed to come out yesterday #aka the anniversary of when jesse was announced as a series regular #but my power went out last night so that didn't happen sorry #anyway i hope this is okay

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charmingkat · 5 years ago

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓.

full name . Katherine Emmeline Teller pronunciation . Kath-rinn nicknames . Kat, Katy (by VERY few), Katy Darlin’ (by Chibs only and possibly Fiona), the little princess

height . 5′4″ age . Verse dependent (anywhere from teenager to in her fifties; though canon wise she would have been in her 30s) zodiac . Aries languages . English

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour . Blonde eye colour . Blue skin tone . Pale body type . Petite, athletic accent . American (Californian) dominant hand . Right posture . Kat is a strutter. Confident walk, heels of her boots clicking against whatever surface she’s walking on. She’s the type of girl that exudes the whole ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe. Always has been. And when she’s angry? One look at her coming and the gathered crowd will part like the red seas.

Makes it hard to forget she is an actual tiny human being. One surrounded by big ass biker dudes. Which may be part of the reason she struts through life. Keeping up with the boys. But when she’s hurt. Vulnerable. It’s evident just how tiny she is -- curled up on herself, hugging her knees to her chest.

tattoos . Depending on the verse, she’s got a list. In all verses she has the gemini symbol on her right wrist representing the fact she and Jax are twins. Once Jax dies, his death date goes underneath. She has a sugar skull on her right shoulder with JT’s death date worked into it. On the right side of her ribs is a child’s hand print with Tommy’s name and death date. A wrap of briars encircle her hips. Abel and Tommy’s names adorn her left foot.

In any verse where she gets with Opie, she gets the ursula major constellation on the inside of her left thigh for him. The outside of her left thigh has Ellie and Kenny’s names.

Then after Gunner and Harley are born, both their names go on her left arm. Gunner on the outside and Harley on the inside. most noticeable features . Physically? Probably her tattoos. And the fact that she can be identified as a Teller almost on sight. Personality wise? Her temper. The fierceness in which she will defend those she loves.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth . Unknown. Up until John and Gemma settled in Charming, they led a sort of nomadic life. When they did finally move to the small town, she and Jax were five. hometown . Charming, CA birth weight / height . 5.6 pounds. Average size for a twin at birth. Twins are usually smaller than singles and one twin usually weighs less. In this case, it was Kat. Jax was totally the chubbier baby. manner of birth . Hospital. Wherever John and Gemma were at the time. first words . "No.” Most likely yelled at Jax when he grabbed something she wanted. siblings . Jax (twin brother); Tommy (younger brother; deceased) parents . Gemma Teller (mother), John Teller (father; deceased), Clay Morrow (stepfather) parental involvement . Her parents were involved in her life as a child but when her mother became sick with cancer; her world changed. Her father was distant and she was always out. Gemma Teller became someone who raised Tara into her teenage years.

ADULT LIFE

occupation . Works at Teller-Morrow Automotive -- running the office and doing detail work; bartender close friends . Opie Winston, Tara Knowles, Hayden Grazer, Mateo Vellenueva relationship status . Verse Dependent (though my OTP is Kat x Opie) financial status . Comfortable driver’s license . Yes criminal record . Yes, from her teenage years. Mostly shoplifting, hot wiring cars...

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation . Bisexual romantic orientation . preferred emotional role . submissive | dominant | switch | unsure. preferred sexual role . submissive (though only those who have had her in the bedroom know that) | dominant | switch | sex repulsed libido . Fairly high turn ons . Loyalty, dominance, someone who is not afraid to get a bit rough with her, nice smile, someone she can talk to, who will respect the place the club has in her life turn offs . Whiny little bitches

love language . Physical Touch relationship tendencies . When it comes to a real relationship, Kat has one type and one type only. ACTUAL HUMAN REDWOOD TREES. But because, outside of said human trees, Kat is absolutely crap at love, she has a history of falling into bed with the wrong type of guy.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song . Cherry Pie by Warrant hobbies to pass the time . Sketching; playing around with new designs for her detail work; doing stuff with the kids, just sitting around in the backyard smoking and drinking with her brother and Opie, watching bad TV mental illnesses . None physical illnesses . "The family flaw” -- she like so many others in her family was born with the congenital heart defect; but like with Jax, hers has never caused her major issues. Something she feels more than a little guilty about. left or right brained . Right fears . Losing the people she loves (esp Jax, Opie, the kids); Spiders self confidence level . Kat’s confidence level is just fine. She needs no more confidence. vulnerabilities . JT’s memory. Finding out he was another family in Ireland pretty much wrecked her. Learning that had he lived, he probably would have left them. The kids. She’d do anything for them.

tagged by : stolen from @samcrodoc tagging : anyone who wants it; though I will probably be doing it for each of my girls over at @daughtersofcharming

#about kat #headcanon #ish

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mitcheemarns · 5 years ago

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THANKS FOR THE PROMPTS BUT IM GOING TO IGNORE THEM AND TALK ABOUT MY LIBERO FEELINGS BY BRINGING BACK LIBERO MITCH AGAIN!

(btw this got long-ish)

Auston first notices Mitch acting a bit odd during November. Auston sees a peculiar tightness in his smile, something glazed over his eyes. It only happens on the court, during their team huddles after a point. It’s also quick -- gone before Auston really gets to categorize what emotion Mitch is feeling. It doesn’t seem to affect Mitch’s volleyball or his life outside the sport, so Auston lets it go. He chalks it up to fatigue.

The next time Auston feels worried about Mitch is during January. The last game they played had been a pretty bad loss, losing 3-0 to a team that they really should’ve beat. They probably would have won if their defense had been half as extensive as it usually was. They’re out in some random bar celebrating the New Year when Mitch shuts down. Auston’s confused; they haven’t been out for very long and they’re only with their teammates. Mitch only usually crashes after several hours with people they might be unfamiliar with.

“You okay?” Auston asks, taking the sweating bottle of beer out of Mitch’s hands.

Mitch looks up at him dazedly, as if he was in a trance. He’s frowning. He says over Travis’s cackle, “yeah. I’m awesome.” Then he turns to his right to strike up a conversation with Mo.

Auston lets him be and makes sure to hold him extra tight when they go to bed later that night.

It all comes to a head during a game in March.

Mitch has been playing his best volleyball, averaging around 2.5 digs a set. Coach has been quite proud, but he doesn’t mention it in words. It’s all dealt in quick smiles and excited high-fives. Despite Mitch soaring in his defensive game, Auston has seen a decline in everything else. And it’s not like he was the only one to notice; Mo and Travis and JT and Jake and Fred and everyone else on the team has asked him about Mitch’s dark under-eyes and the down-turned corners of his lips. Auston hasn’t been able to give them an answer.

The game they play goes kind of bad, too. They’re still in the first set, which means they have lots of time to win the match, but they’re down 16-5. It doesn’t look good. One of their tougher servers launches one directly at Mitch. It wipes off Mitch’s arms and heads directly out of court. They’re now down 17-5. Coach calls a timeout. Auston catches a glimpse of Mitch’s face as they head to the sidelines. Mitch’s eyes glisten under the bright lights, his face flushed pink and eyes rimmed red. Auston shares a look with Mo, and decides to stage an intervention afterwards.

Later, when they’re changed after their loss, Auston waits for everyone to trickle out of the changing room. He sits at his sparse stall and looks at Mitch, who’s stuffing all his finger tape and compression sleeves into his bag. Mitch turns around to Auston.

“You ready to go? Everyone else is gone,” Mitch says. His voice is rough. His eyes droop down.

“Yeah, sure,” Auston hums. He stays in his stall with both arms behind his head. Mitch zips up his bag and slings it over a shoulder. “You know what? Come here for a sec.”

Mitch looks at him with confusion. It would be adorable, but the tiredness and hurt in his face makes Auston very, very sad. Mitch walks to him slowly, dropping his bag on the ground when he makes it there. Auston sits up properly and motions Mitch to come closer.

“Come sit on my lap. Gotta talk to you,” Auston says and pats his thighs. Mitch frowns but complies, sitting down so he’s facing away from Auston.

“What now?”

Auston nudges his nose into the crook of Mitch’s neck and shoulder. He inhales.

“What’s wrong, Mitchy?”

Mitch shivers. “Nothing. What are you talking about?”

Auston’s hands wrap tighter around Mitch’s waist. He’s starting to squirm.

“Don’t lie. What’s with all the not-sleeping and not-socializing? Everyone’s pretty worried, including me.” He presses a kiss to Mitch’s neck.

“Nothing, man. Just wanted to focus on volleyball.”

Auston stops. “Volleyball? You’ve been playing fucking ace these past few months. I think you’re good, Mitchy Mouse.”

Mitch stiffens, and Auston knows he’s about to bolt. He makes sure to wrap his arms around Mitch’s entire torso so he has nowhere to go.

“I haven’t been playing well. If I played better, we wouldn’t have lost today.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You were the reason we didn’t lose even more horrifically.”

“Yeah, but, there were so many saves I could’ve made. It’s all my fault!”

Mitch sniffles. Auston’s heart drops into his stomach.

“Mitch--baby, don’t you ever think it’s your fault that we lost. Volleyball’s a sport with six people on the court. It depends on the whole team. No one thinks it’s your fault. You make saves all the fucking time, maybe it’s our turn to pay you back and value them more.”

Mitch doesn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Auston says softly. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Mitch says through a blocked nose.

“Okay.”

They stay like that until Auston’s ass goes numb sitting on the wooden bench, Mitch in Auston’s lap. It takes ten more minutes for Mitch to shift so he’s facing Auston. He can see the faint track from Mitch’s tears. He kisses both of Mitch’s cheeks.

“Let’s go home,” Mitch says. He’s been clutching onto Auston. He sounds a bit better.

“Okay,” Auston smiles.

They go home.

#fic stuff #my writing #marnthews #vball au #this got kind of long and i was like i need to end it #soooooo

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imagineleonkennedy · 6 years ago

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Leon Kennedy: Nostalgia

A short story written by @thecarnalscientist-jt for Imagine Leon Kennedy.

Hope you all enjoy.

Nostalgia

The Kilo Tavern sign stood out among the cobblestone brick walls of other local establishments. It was tattered, a little beaten from the wear of time but the signs green and orange blood neon lighting blinked like fireflies that hadn’t lost their spark. A juicy aroma of meat and salted fries weaved its way through the cool air outside seductively as if to say ‘come and see what I got for you’. Inside the tavern it was an outdoor nostalgic watering hole. Game mounts stared down at customers much like the hunters that took them down. Old Jim Beam collector whiskey bottles hung up above the bar. There were more buzzing neon blue and red lights promoting products such as Corona. Dollar bills were stuck to the ceiling with thumb tacks as some locals looked in awe at the spectacle, as if they were staring directly up at heaven itself. The clattering sound of the pool table balls colliding into each other echoed throughout the building, bouncing off the rustic walls in a pleasant hum. 70s memorabilia littered the walls like a flock of perched bats in a cave. The taps at the front of the bar stood like soldiers at attention waiting for the bartender to choose which liquid gold would caress a patrons lips and tongue with bitter sweet flavor. The tavern had an otherworldly primordial feel during night as if time stopped and characters from different universes could intermingle and chill away from their troubles.

Leon Kennedy felt nervous. He hadn’t been to this old place since he graduated the police academy. He sipped lightly on an amber colored beer, not sure what it was called but it tasted cheap. He vaguely remembered the night he had gotten drunk and ended up being late to his first day at the Raccoon City precinct. Time had flown fast, but as he glanced around at fellow patrons among other nostalgic items, Kilo still had an undying charm. The tavern had barely changed. Leon on the other hand, well, that was a long story.

The bell to the large wooden door clanged, and Leon’s gaze quickly went over to it. He saw her then: wavy brown hair and a big jacket gave Miranda away. She gave a wave, smiling at Leon as he returned the same gesture.

“It’s good to see you!” Miranda said as she approached him. The two exchanged pleasant smiles at each other as Leon got out from his seat and nodded.

“Likewise. You changed your hair. I remember you were blond once upon a time.” He said with a smirk, to which Miranda shook her head and puffed out a laugh.

“Well, between the two of us you still look like a Ken doll.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Leon sighed and laughed.

“You’re the one that drunkenly suggested the two of us go as Barbie and Ken to my college’s dance fundraiser. We were a laughing stock, but it was fun. I miss being adventurous like that.”

“That seems to be something we have in common now.” Leon said, and his playfulness somewhat dipped as he had to step back into reality. His life was completely different compared to when he was at the academy, and back when he was in his first serious relationship with none other than the woman sitting across from him after Leon had pulled out a chair for her and sat back down.

“So, how have you been?” Leon started, trying to keep his composure. Even to this day, Miranda made him nervous. He had fought the undead, and countless B.O.W’s, but she still had an air about her that said not to fuck around. He figured that’s how Miranda got accepted to one of the best medical schools in the country long after the Raccoon City incident.

“Oh pretty good. The hospital I’m working at is always full of sick people, sadly. Nothing new there. I have a couple of kiddos now, do you want to see them?”

“Yeah.” Leon smiled as Miranda beamed with pride as she took out her phone. It took a moment for her to comb through the gallery. Leon stole some quick glances at the kind of pictures Miranda loved to take. Mostly of patients and her, and a couple with the man whom Leon assumed was her husband.

“This one is Corey and the other is Val.” She handed her cell over to Leon and he got a good look at the kids. Both of them couldn’t have been more than six years old. Leon could tell they were definitely Miranda’s given their thick eyebrows and thin lips. Both their smiles were contagious. Leon could imagine they were the kind of kids that could light up a room with their presence. Easily goal driven. They had to be given who their mother was.

“They’re beautiful kids. You and your husband must be proud.”

“Actually, my wife and I are proud.” Miranda corrected to which Leon’s eyes widened subtly as he the realization dawned on him. He blinked a few times as he processed what transpired. Miranda gave a bellowing laugh and then shook her head as she gently took back the phone.

“Are you offended?” She asked jokingly.

“N-no. I just had no idea you were bisexual.” Leon said in his defense.

“Lesbian actually. I had no idea I was either until after me and you broke up. You did me a solid.” Miranda said, her smile somewhat glum at mentioning that. Leon nodded and cleared his throat.

“How did you two meet?” He asked curiously.

“We met through a volunteer group, countering bioterrorism through educating fellow doctors on how to spot patients that may be infected and how to best quarantine them. She actually is trying to pass a medical law right now to have all hospitals across the US have high tech facilities that can handle any infected persons that come through. Catherine, my wife, she’s a governor now. So far she’s gotten her initiative passed in five states, mostly northern ones. The south has been reluctant, but you know how the politicians are down there.”

“I wouldn’t know. Rednecks scare the crap out of me so you don’t see me in Georgia.” Leon said with a smirk to which Miranda chuckled.

“I thought nothing scared you given that you basically fight zombies.”

“The undead are like wild animals. It’s easy to predict when they’re going to attack you. Regular people, and rednecks for that matter, you can never tell if they’re your friend or your enemy.”

“Given your expertise in the subject, where do you think I stand?” Miranda smiled.

“Acquaintance, possible friend at this point. Frenemy?” Leon said and smiled in return. Miranda turned her attention towards the bartender and hollered that she wanted a beer from the tap. The drink was quick to come, and she downed half of it by the time the glass hit the table and the bartender went back to his post.

“You still drink as if your life depends on it.” Leon said jokingly, taking a jab as Miranda snorted and gestured at Leon’s own beverage.

“And you still tread lightly. You barely touched your own beer.”

“I can’t afford too, sadly. Been trying to kick the habit.”

“Oh, you have a drinking problem?”

“More or less. I get nightmares a lot,” Leon said with a sigh as he rubbed his forehead and his bangs from his eyes. Miranda eyed him then. It had been years, but she could recall when Leon was getting tense and when he was trying to hide it.

“Your shoulders are scrunching up. You don’t like talking about it.” She pointed out.

Leon smiled lightly. “I can’t ever hide anything from you, can I?”

“Nope.” Miranda said as a matter of fact. “Do you have a family or anything like that, Leon?”

Leon wasn’t sure how to answer right away, he furrowed his brows and glanced around the tavern while collecting his thoughts before settling his gaze back on Miranda. He shook his head. His eyes held a somber look in them.

“No. I don’t have time for that kind of thing. In between fighting off monsters, checking in with my superiors, and going through rigorous government training, I don’t get a lot of personal time. Much less I can’t go out on dates on a whim.”

“You must have pulled a lot of strings to get to be here tonight.”

“What can I say?” Leon gave a shrug. “I’ve been nostalgic lately.”

“And clearly given that look in your eye, you want something from me.” Miranda said and crossed her arms. She held a playful smirk, but Leon could tell from her earthy eyes that she was cautious about wherever the conversation was going.

“Again, I could never hide anything from you.” Leon gave a laugh and then took a drink, this time a bit more than what he was accustomed too. “I heard you were with the doctors without borders group that was outside Kijuju. Could you tell me about it?”

Miranda looked taken aback, something Leon noted right away. Was she really that shocked he would come to possess such information? He had never seen Miranda off guard before. He kept his expression neutral, watching her as she gathered herself.

“Yeah, I try not to think about it. My team and I were transported out of there by the BSAA right before the plagas hit hard, but I did see how it affected the animal life. Poor things. I still get queasy thinking about it. I may not have seen the full scale Kijuju, but I can only imagine what it was like for the people over there. I promised myself after that trip, I wasn’t going to go on anymore humanitarian missions for a while. Not in this kind of world where plagues and viruses seem to be sprouting like spring flowers. How did you know about me being there?”

“A friend of mine works in the BSAA. We both share a lot of reports with each other. He was another survivor, Raccoon City and all. I looked through some records and found out you and that medical team gave statements and recommendations. I also saw you bumped into someone I’m looking for.”

“Who?”

“Ada. Ada Wong. You might have known her as Clariece Fisher on your medical team.”

Miranda shook her head and sighed. “I only met her a few times. We didn’t talk much.”

Leon furrowed his brows. “According to your statement you gave the BSAA, you mentioned a whole lot more than just a mere chit chat.”

“Leon, please…not here.” Miranda sounded almost guilty as Leon shook his head firmly. He couldn’t afford to lose this lead, he couldn’t afford to have Miranda get the upper hand on this one and make him fall back. He had to know.

“Miranda, what did Ada tell you? Look, you’re not under arrest or anything. I’ve been chasing her for a while. I need to know if she might have played a hand in what happened. Please.”

Miranda swallowed thick, contemplating whether or not she should suck in her pride and spill the beans or bolt quick before Leon could stop her. Given his training, and the fact she was a mere doctor and not a government agent, she quickly ruled out the latter. He was going to find out no matter what. Per usual, he was stubborn like that.

“I thought she was originally there as part of back up the medical team was suppose to receive. She even assisted with collecting samples, so that we could possibly conjure up a vaccine for the locals and animals. I caught her one night smuggling out some of the plagas among other blood the team had collected. Ada gave me a choice, either kill me and make it seem like one of the locals did it, or help her out. I helped her slip away with everything. Then I got back to the states and was awarded a quarter million dollars by an unknown source. I’m assuming it was her doing, buying my silence.”

Leon furrowed his brows. “Did she mention why she was collecting the plagas samples?”

“It was for a client. She didn’t disclose much other than that. I mostly had to help her keep up the charade that she was a part of the team. I even helped her fake she was killed during a shoot out. I know what I did was stupid, I should have turned her in as soon as I got back over to the states–but the money came in, and my wife lost her job and–”

Leon held up a hand gently and peered up at Miranda’s eyes, seeing she was on the verge of tearing up. He had met many people in life thanks to his job, and he knew from experience that she was sincere in her guilt. He then calmly put his hand down and sighed, closing his eyes as he debated with himself. Technically, she helped harbor a terrorist and on the other hand, he could understand well enough why Miranda took the hush money and bailed on telling the BSAA anything further.

“How did you find out Clariece was Ada Wong?” Miranda asked curiously.

“Call it a sixth sense.” Leon mused. “Given your statements about Clairece, a lot of the mannerisms and characteristics stood out as Ada. Like my friend in the BSAA, me and her go way back.”

Miranda furrowed her brows, looking a little shocked and somber. “Is she a war criminal?”

“Bioterrorist and conspirator. Works for the black market. She’s really smart.”

That last bit right there, gave away Leon even though he had no intention of it. Miranda’s face seemed to light up almost like the neon colors in the tavern. She didn’t say anything, not wanting to put Leon on the spot, but it became clear as day given his expression that he had a soft spot for this terrorist. Miranda couldn’t help but take one jab.

“You always did have a weakness for the bad asses.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Nevermind.” Miranda waved him off. Silence then filled the space between them as they both were unsure what to do next. They both took turns sipping from their own cups, letting the beer calm their nerves to a degree. Miranda’s face was a little plump and red from nervousness.

“What does this mean for me?” Miranda asked, caution in her tone as Leon sighed.

“Nothing. What’s done is done and I’m not about to break up a family on account you were blackmailed. As for the money, you got that from a rich family member that died right? Had no other heirs but you?” Leon said casually and gave a small smirk, letting Miranda take a breather. She let out a sigh of relief and wiped away at her eyes and murmured a hushed thank you to Leon for sparing her.

“Was this all you wanted from me?” Miranda asked, to which she was genuinely surprised when Leon shook his head.

“No. There’s something else I’ve been wanting to say to you for a long time,” He took in a breath, closed his eyes for a moment and allowed the memories of their time together to flow through him leading up to the fateful night. When he opened them, he had a clarity and a sense of purpose. He had been wanting to get this off his chest for a long time.

“Thank you, for breaking up with me.”

Miranda was taken aback. “Why would you thank me for that? It’s my fault you got drunk and ended up in that godforsaken city. You have no idea how many nights I had feeling like shit I never apologized or checked to see if you were okay after it. I was too scared. I was such a cunt for doing that, abandoning you. I should have checked in.”

Leon shook his head and instinctively, his hand reached out and clasped over hers as he held her gaze with a firm look. “No, you probably saved my life. See, I was late to work because I got drunk and worked up over the loss of us. Raccoon City was a nightmare, and yeah I walked right into the heart of it, but if I had left sooner, if I had been there earlier on with my team, I probably wouldn’t be here talking to you right now. My life changed drastically Miranda, and a lot of it I despise but I don’t regret it. I don’t resent you for what happened. I feel like you’ve been needing to hear that for a long time now.”

Miranda at this point was crying, not hard but it was telling that she had carried the guilt with her over the years. Leon’s forgiveness was breaking whatever shields she had that held up her trying to hide the fact. Miranda nodded, gently taking her hand away from Leon as she grabbed a napkin and wiped away at her eyes. Leon gave her a chance to compose herself, he too shedding a few tears before sniffling and wiping them away rather quick.

“Your phone is ringing.” Leon said and gestured to Miranda’s black cell. It was buzzing with a familiar tune that Leon couldn’t quite recall.

“It’s my wife. She’s probably wondering where I’m at. I didn’t tell her we were meeting up.”

Leon nodded. “I gotta get going anyway. I may have pulled strings to meet up, but not much sadly.”

Miranda smiled. “Do you like your job?”

“To be honest? Not really. It’s soul crushing a lot of the time, but I do save people. I’d rather be a cop, or maybe even a doctor.” Leon joked and Miranda shook her head.

“I think you’re better at disembolwing corpses than putting one back together. Perhaps a mortician instead?”

“After all the shit I’ve seen since Raccoon City, not on your life.”

They both laughed together, the first time in years. There was something about it that made both of their hearts swell. A lot had changed, and as people they had gone on different paths but deep down they were still those young adults that were unsure yet sure of everything. Even within Leon, his youth was still there underneath the layers of who he had to become.

“You should come meet my wife and kids sometime, if it wouldn’t be too awkward.”

“I’d love to.” Leon smiled and then got up. He took his wallet out and threw down enough cash to cover his drink and Miranda’s. He then paused and gave her one last look, taking in how much she was different now. He felt a small pain of envy within himself, wondering what it would have been like if they were still together. Wondering how it would have been if they had a family. Wondering how different life would have turned out altogether.

“It’s all in the past. I’ll see you around Miranda.” He said with a warm smile then took his leave.

“You too, Leon. Good luck catching her.” That would be the last time they would see each other.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #fanfic #thecarnalscientist-jt #imagineleonkennedy

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