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ouyangzizhensdad · 4 years ago

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RE: WWX and his arc being about trauma. I got into the fandom through CQL and the first time I saw it I actually read a lot of his actions post the burning of Lotus Cove as being influenced by his trauma. He's paranoid even before getting thrown into the burial mounds. He seems to be self medicating with alchohol (which WQ kinda calls him out on). He over-reacts to a lot things, which seems to me like a nasty case of emotional dysregulation as a result of PTSD. He avoids all kinds (1/3)

Of reminders of his tramua, his sword being the greatest example but there were other little things. He never gave much of a fuck about propriety but the way he completely igonres it (and the possible social fallout) later speaks to me less about not caring and more about not *having* the emotional capacity to care, much like what happens with depression. Plus, a lot of his behaviour can be read with various shades of being self destructive, and there are just in general a lot of points (2/3)

Where it's made clear that he's in a pretty bad headspace (him crying about being useless in the burial mounds for example), but none of that ever really gets dealt with so all of those issues are still hanging under the surface even if they're not apparent all the time. I mean, this is just my take, but at least imo WWX ticks a lot of the checkboxes for PTSD in the drama and it explains a lot about the way he acts and the bad decisions he makes. Hope this was helpful! (3/3)

I'm only referring to the drama btw, not the novel (which I haven't read yet). My memory is terrible so I'm not sure if I made it clear or not lol. Anyways, have a good day ^^

Hi there,

I am always curious when people who have only engaged with CQL end up engaging with my novel-only meta blog but perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised: if CQL posts end up in the mdzs tag, why not the opposite? I’ve seen some of my novel meta reblogged and tagged with “the untamed” and “CQL” so maybe the answer is already out there, staring at me in the face!

I’ll start by saying that I do not wish to really argue with people’s interpretations of CQL since I consider that MDZS and CQL are very different works because so many changes were made in the process of adapting the novel, and I personally have no interest in analysing CQL except wrt how it can help us better understand the novel (seeing certain elements removed or changed may help us understand why they mattered in the first place or what their use was). So I will speak to the arguments that could be applied to the novel and why *I* don’t think WWX’s arc in the novel is about trauma, and why I don’t think that picking up certain behaviours that can be exhibited by people with PTSD (but not exclusively by people with PTSD) is enough in itself to support the idea that a character’s arc is about trauma/shaped by PTSD. That does not mean that my interpretation is the only acceptable one--I am aware that a lot of people disagree with me on this and see trauma as a central theme/central part of WWX’s arc--and so I expect that a lot of people will disagree with my points (hopefully after they’ve read this post in good faith). And that’s perfectly fine: how likely is it that we can find another person who will agree 100% with our own interpretation of a work of fiction? And having divergent opinions floating around the fandom, or having to develop counter-arguments is a good way to strengthen our own pov if we don’t find ourselves convinced by that other interpretation, so it’s all good.

So first, I’ll address the biggest point of my argument before moving to address more specific points you raise in your ask. For me, WWX’s characterisation is not about trauma but about resilience.

So first, let’s clarify some things. Going through adversity/experiencing a situation that is difficult =/= experiencing trauma. Trauma is a concept referring to a potential response to going through adversity/experiencing something distressing or disturbing. In short, trauma as it is conceptualised and understood is not universal: not only in the sense that is a spatiotemporally specific concept used to make certain experiences intelligible, but as the reaction to difficult events (as well, what is considered to be an experience that falls under that concept is not itself universal and can take many gorms, and the behaviours and thoughts associated with trauma are generally not exclusive to it, ie having certain behaviours/thought processes is not an automatic proof that someone is dealing with trauma/ptsd). So after all this word vomit I want to clarify that my intent is not to suggest that WWX doesn’t go through experiences that are likely to cause trauma, but that to me, what is being portrayed is a different reaction to these events: resilience (if a slightly more “fictional” portrayal of resilience than what it would be presented in psychology/psychiatry).

Resilience refers to how people adapt or recover successfully from adversity/distressing situation/stress. That does not mean that people’s first reaction to adversity/distressing situations will be not defined by negative emotions, of course. For instance, I don’t think WWX’s heightened paranoia/emotional state directly after the fall of LP when he goes to look for JC is an indication of trauma because at this point WWX is still deep in the middle of that moment of adversity: he’s still a fugitive in the middle of a war, in the middle of danger. This also doesn’t mean that people cannot still have some temporary negative reactions to things that happened to them, afterwards: WWX having to pause when JC presents him with Suibian after he returns from Mass Grave Hill is not inherently an indication of trauma as it can be read that his sword a reminder of the difficult sacrifice he made--and the consequences he faced as a result (just because a situation was not traumatic doesn’t mean we enjoy revisiting it).

Why I think that WWX’s arc or characterisation is about resilience rather than trauma is because of many things, but mostly I want to point out two sections of the novel in particular.

First, this characterisation of WWX through JYL that we get relatively early in the novel:

Most memories from back then were already blurred. Yet, Jin Ling’s mother, Jiang Yanli, remembered all of them, and even told him quite a few. She said that, after his father heard of the news that his parents both died in battle, he had always dedicated himself to finding the child that these past friends had left behind. After searching for a while, he finally found the child in Yiling.

The first time they met, Wei Wuxian was kneeling on the ground, eating the fruit peels that somebody tossed on the ground. Yiling’s winter and spring were quite cold, yet the child only wore thin layers. His knees were already tattered, and on his feet were two different shoes that didn’t fit at all. As he was looking down, searching for fruit peels, Jiang Fengmian called him. He still remembered that there was a “Ying” in his name, so he lifted his head. Although his cheeks were both red and chapped from the cold, he still wore a smile.

Jiang Yanli said that he was born with a smiling look. No matter what unfortunate thing happened, he wouldn’t cling on to them; no matter what situation he was in, he would be happy. Although it sounded a bit heartless, it really was not bad.

This refers to a time of his life that is extremely difficult: he lost both his parents suddenly, at a young age, became suddenly homeless with no means to feed himself except to beg, and yet the only trauma he seems to carry from this experience is related to dogs. To me, this is a clear move from MXTX to position WWX as the kind of protagonist who can face a storm and keep his smile on his face. I can imagine that some people take it perhaps as a subversion, as the text telling us that WWX is weathering it all with a smile but underneath it all he is just a bundle of unaddressed trauma. And that’s certainly a possible interpretation, but it’s not mine. In this case I think the text is being straightforward. What we see of WWX also seems to support that: the way WWX just rolls with being brought back from the death, how easily he finds a way to adapt to things, etc.

I also find it meaningful that the novel choses to include in its ultimate chapter this discussion as part of its wrap-up of WWX’s journey and of Wangxian’s relationship.

After they left the shop, Wei Wuxian still sat on Xiao Pingguo while Lan Wangji held the reins in front.Swaying left and right atop the donkey, Wei Wuxian took the flute from his waist and placed it by his lips. The limpid notes flew across the sky like birds. Lan Wangji halted and listened quietly.

It was the song he sang for Wei Wuxian when they were stuck in the Xuanwu cave. It was also the song that Wei Wuxian just so happened to have played at Dafan Mountain, the song that enabled Lan Wangji to confirm his identity.

When he finished, Wei Wuxian winked his left eye towards Lan Wangji.

“How was it? Beautiful, huh?”

Lan Wangji slowly nodded. “For once.”

Wei Wuxian knew that ‘for once’ referred to how his memory was good for once. He could not help but smile.

“Don’t always be so angry about it. It was my fault in the past, alright? Besides, my terrible memory should be accredited to my mom.” Wei Wuxian propped his arm on Xiao Pingguo’s head, spinning Chenqing in his hand. “My mom said you have to remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts would they finally feel free.”

This was one of the only things he remembered about his parents.

Of course, this is not a direct reference to resilience as it is explored in psychology. But to me it speaks to that idea: one of the biggest lesson WWX has kept with him, one of his only memory of--and thus legacy from--his parents, is this idea that we should not hold so much in our hearts. It also reframes his bad memory as being the result of a philosophy, of an approach to life that not just about being grateful/paying your debts to others, but also a form of resilience, in a sense.

As well, I find that a lot of people who go with the trauma interpretation see WWX’s actions and thoughts processes dyring his YLLZ’s days as being the result of his ptsd, where I personally read it as the influence of modao. I am aware as well that some people do not think that modao actually harmed WWX during that period of his life, but I don’t think that LWJ would have been worried if there were not reasons to believe it would:

One against two, Lan Wangji still refused to back off. He gazed at Wei Wuxian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.”

Wei Wuxian, “I can pay.”

Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan Wangji lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well (此道损身，更损心性。)”

So now, onto the specific points you raised in the ask.

Self-medicating with alcohol: WWX is shown to enjoy and drink large amounts of alcohol before the fall of LP and after most of the events of the novel have unfolded. In the novel, while WQ tries to make WWX stop drinking, it is as likely to believe that it is for his health (now that he doesn’t have a golden core) than it would be because she was worried he was self-medicating. As well, heavy drinking is a very normalized behaviour (although most physicians don’t think it’s a good thing) in a lot of cultures and times, and considering WWX’s higher tolerance and his general demeanor while imbricated, his drinking is not shown to have a negative effect on his ability to live his life. The line between “self-soothing” (normal aspect of being humans dealing with emotions and hardships) and “self-medicating” (pathological) is hard to trace with alcohol consumption. As well, just because people with PTSD may self-medicate with alchohol doesn’t mean all people who self-medicate with alcohol do it because of PTSD.

He's paranoid even before getting thrown into the burial mounds. As I mentioned briefly before, WWX is at the time a fugitive in the middle of a war: he’s still in the middle of those stressful events and his paranoia is not necessarily a maladaptive response since they are still very much fugitives in the middle of a war. Trauma is not really your reaction during but in the aftermath. It would be more telling if WWX were still exhibiting signs of paranoia in situations where he would have no reasons to.

He over-reacts to a lot things, which seems to me like a nasty case of emotional dysregulation as a result of PTSD. I’m not certain at which reactions you are referring to here, but especially considering that some of this might be chalked up to acting choices since this is based on CQL, I probably won’t address this one point too much in relation to the novel. I do want to emphasize though that we’ve seen prior to Sunshot campaign that WWX can be quite impulsive in certain situations (hitting JZX for insulting Shijie, which he does both before and after the events of the Sunshot Campaign). As well, I do think it’s important to remember that he is still in the middle of the war during the Sunshot campaign, and that he is also hiding something pretty important from the people close to him and living a sort of double life, on top of experiencing fatigue/hunger in a way he hasn’t for years due to the loss of his golden core. In short, there are a lot of things going on that can be used to explain what can be seen as “over-reactions” without necessarily going with PTSD.

avoids all kinds reminders of his trauma, his sword being the greatest example but there were other little things. I’ve broached in my previous discussions, but it’s also pertinent to remember his mom’s philosophy: we can also see this as WWX trying to leave in the pass this difficult sacrifice he made in order to move forward.

He never gave much of a fuck about propriety but the way he completely ignores it (and the possible social fallout) later speaks to me less about not caring and more about not *having* the emotional capacity to care, much like what happens with depression. I have to disagree with that interpretation of WWX and WWX’s actions, but again this might just be a case of CQL-only vs novel-only interpretations of the character. One thing WWX thinks about being reborn in a “lunatic’s” body is that he’ll get to have fun, the way he never could when his actions reflected on others. So while at times WWX flaunts propriety, he is aware of how his actions can impact others and show in different situations that he is aware of propriety. His choice to protect the Wen Remnants goes against that, for sure, but it isn’t necessarily a case of not understanding the possible social fallout so much as putting other things (ie his life-debt towards WN and WQ) before propriety, as we can see for example in this exchange.

Jiang Cheng, “I’m the one who fucking wants to give you a thrashing! Yes, they helped us before, but why in the world don’t you understand that right now any remnant of the Wen Sect is a target of criticism! No matter who they are, with a surname of Wen they have committed a most heinous crime! And those who protect the Wen are at risk of being condemned by everyone! All the people loathe the Wen-dogs so badly that the worse they die the better. Whoever protects them is against the entire world. Nobody would speak for them, and nobody would speak for you either!”

“I don’t need anyone to speak for me.”

[...]

Swords unsheathed, the two stared at each other for a while. Neither was willing to take a single step back. A while later, Jiang Cheng spoke, “Wei Wuxian, have you still not realized what the situation at hand is like? Do you really need me to say it out loud? If you insist on protecting them, then I won’t be able to protect you.”

“There’s no need to protect me. Just let go.”

Jiang Cheng’s face twisted.

Wei Wuxian, “Just let go. Tell the world that I defected. From now on, no matter what Wei Wuxian does, it’d have nothing to do with YunmengJiangShi.”

“… All for the Wen Sect…? Wei Wuxian, do you have a savior complex? Is it that you’ll die if you don’t stand up for someone and stir up some trouble?”

Wei Wuxian stayed quiet. A while later, he answered, “So that’s why we should cut ties right now, in case anything I do affects YunmengJiangShi in the future.”

a lot of his behaviour can be read with various shades of being self destructive Which ones, specifically? I’m not trying to be obtuse, but I’m not sure which ones you mean.

he's in a pretty bad headspace (him crying about being useless in the burial mounds for example) It needs to be said that the crying is only in CQL (it was an acting choice by XZ). My memory is playing tricks on me, but I think pre-rebirth we only see him cry after he kills JZX and after JYL’s death? Someone please fact-check me on this.

Since I don’t believe it was MXTX’s intent to make WWX’s characterisation and arc about trauma, I do feel like interpreting the different behaviours as signs of his PTSD might lead us to miss out on other potential interpretations or meanings behind these choices, if we put aside the PTSD angle. It may also lead us to deny the text the possibility to signify something different through these behaviours and signs, especially on a thematic level--to explore something about how events and emotions shape us in a manner that exists outside of modern psychiatric classification.

TLDR (because god this got long): My point is not that WWX is unaffected by the things that happened to him or the things he’s done during this portion of his life: of course he is! Especially as they are happening to him, or when he is still stuck in a very difficult situation. But I don’t think his character and his arc is about trauma but instead about resilience. That, at the end of MDZS, WWX is still the person JYL described: No matter what unfortunate thing happened, he wouldn’t cling on to them.

#wintersrchild #mdzs meta #mdzs #wwx #maybe i should tag this as unpopular opinion? just in case

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sparkleofpizza · 4 years ago

Text

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 6/?

Requested: no

Warnings: underage drinking, swearing, sexual themes

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000 @malfoys-demigod @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @ijustwannabecanadian

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake

Word count: 3.658

A/n: I have no ideia if the league of assassins use cellphones, but for the purpose of this story they do

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

You wish you had brought a warmer coat or had thought better about what you were doing. Honestly when you reached out for the phone on your pocket and dialed Nissa’s Al Ghul number, you weren’t thinking straight.

But hey! Can anyone blame you? You just found out that one of the most horrifying memories you have isn’t actually real, your mom is alive and she is part of a very bad secret organization. Honestly, you thought you were handling it pretty well, you haven’t broken down into tears yet, so you saw this a victory.

“I need to talk to your sister.” You barked trough the phone, not even bothering to say hello “Tell her to meet me in Gotham near Crime Alley, at the old theater tomorrow night.”

“Little Queen. What is this about?”

“Does it matter, Nissa? Tell her I know about Malcom and the deal.”

“What deal? What is this all about?” She questioned again, clearly confused

“Get her to come, tomorrow night. Come along if you want to.”

With that you ended the call, placing the phone back to where it previously was.

Yes, you knew that contacting the League of Assassins wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve ever had, but you needed answers. You needed to know if what Oliver told you was actually true, and you knew that Talia would know. And you are going to make her talk.

In the middle of your walk towards nowhere, you realized you didn’t want to see Oliver again today, but you had to go back to the Manor eventually. You knew he was going to be there waiting for you which lead to you not having anywhere to go. Where are you going to sleep tonight?

You sighted, eyeing a bar from across the street you were in. Might as well kill some time at a place that wasn’t the streets. Even thought you know how to take care of yourself, you rather not be in the middle of a desert street, this is Gotham after all, you didn’t know this place very well, but you know it’s bad, way worse than Star City.

The bar smelled like cigarettes and cheap beer. You looked around noticing people around your age and bit older. Thankfully this isn’t an old creepy men's bar, the last thing you need is to deal with man who can’t take a no as an answer - although you weren’t opposed to kicking some assholes’ asses.

You took a sit at a stool, getting the bartender's attention. The man stood in front of you, a cloth in his hand as he was drying a cup. He was tall and had blond hair.

“What can I get you, miss?” He questioned, putting the cup and cloth away

“A marguerita, please.” You ordered

Tequila sounded good to solve your problems. It used to be your friend at events when you were younger, although you had to pretend you didn’t drink anything at all.

“Can I see your ID?”

You snorted, oh no, this guy isn’t ruining your already bad night.

You reached inside your pocket, grabbing a hundred dollar bill and sliding it across the bar's table.

“Here is my ID, dear.”

The man chuckled, grabbing the bill and turning around to prepare your drink. People were so easily bought with money it still baffled you. That made you wonder how many underage kids that shouldn’t be here drinking, got to drink because the bartender was bought with a hundred dollars.

You sighted as he placed the drink in front of you, taking a sip of it and letting the bitter taste of tequila and sour taste of lemon embrace you.

That was a really bad night. When you Tim started officially dating a few hours ago, you thought this was going to be one of the best nights ever, you didn’t expect for everything to go down hill once you had dinner with Oliver.

Dinner, your stomach contracted thinking about the food you didn’t have the chance to eat properly. All the coffee in your stomach was doing too little to keep you from getting hungry. What were you going to eat at a bar? The peanuts in front of you so you could have a bad allergy and die without air? Sounded pretty good right now.

Before you could realize it, you had already finished your first drink and ordered your second one.

“Oh, this marguerita looks really good.” Someone said, taking a sit at a stool beside you

You turned your head to the side, looking at Tim. He had his dark hair framing his face, a navy shirt and a really looking warm grey coat. You stared at him without saying a word as he smiled at your general direction.

“How did you find me?” You asked heaving a sight

He shuggred “I have my ways.”

“Did Oliver send you here to talk me into the shit he is planning?”

He grimaced a bit at your words, apparently not knowing what you were talking about it and sensing your discomfort.

“We” he said, sliding his stool a bit closer to you “don’t have to talk about it. But I am not going to let you drink alone, what’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on your face at his words. Did you really find the perfect man?

You watched as Tim ordered a scotch, the smile still present on your lips.

This is going to be a weirdly fun drinking night.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The bathroom wall felt cold against your back as you were pushed against it. You heard the door lock behind you before Tim was standing right in front of you, hands hovering above you on either side of your head as he used the wall to support himself.

His eyes were small and shining a dark blue, his cheeks tinted a pretty pink and a smirk adorning his beautiful lips. His hair was a bit disheveled. You took into his appearance, glad you were the one with him in this small bathroom bar.

6 drinks each had lead you to this situation. You both locked at a bar's bathroom that didn’t smell that good. It was around 2 am and you thought he would’ve already left to go to patrol after taking you home, but no, there he was with you all night long.

“You are so beautiful.” Tim whispered in your ear, his hot breath and rasp voice sending shivers down your spine

His lips met the skin behind your ear, then his lips ghosted over the path to your mouth until a few inches away from it where he placed another lingering kiss. Then, finally, his lips met yours on a fervish kiss.

Your hands gripped his biceps to steady yourself, feelings your legs wobble. Tim presses his hips into yours, pushing you further against the wall. You moaned at the friction of your lower parts together, allowing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He tasted like the bitter scotch he was drinking earlier mixed with the lemon from your drink since you two had shared a few kisses at the bar stool before venturing to the bathroom, a more private place.

Tim slid his hands from the wall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin with such force that you were sure you would have a bruise there tomorrow. Just the thought of him leaving marks on your skin was enough to make the fire within you grow even more.

You pulled apart to catch your breath only for a few seconds before your lips were crashing against each other one more time. Your hands left his biceps, one sliding down his chest, felling the toned muscles, and the other went up to his hair, pulling at it, making him groan.

Tim’s lips left yours to trail kisses along your jawline and towards your neck. His hands slinging further down, stopping at your ass and squezing it while nibbling at your neck, his tongue smoothing the skin he bit and sucked at. You left breath moans at his actions.

One of his legs found their place between yours, spreading your legs apart while his hands went from your ass to your thighs, lifiting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, felling the bulge in his pants.

“Timmy.” You breathes out, pulling his hair out as his kisses kept getting lower and lower towards your cleavage

He pulled his face away from your skin, hands tightening its grip on your thighs. His lips were red and swollen from the kisses, his hair was everywhere and you were pretty sure you didn’t look any better.

“Fuck.” He cursed, pulling you a bit closer and groaning at the friction of your bodies together “We can’t do this here and not right now.”

“Why not?” You questioned, inching your face closer to his

You kissed his jaw, lightly biting at it and going lower to kiss his neck. Lips scratching at the soft skin there and a smile on your lips when he squeezed your ass in response.

Tim closed his eyes for a while, enjoining the sensation, but also trying to recollect his thoughts. He was really enjoining himself, but this wasn’t right.

“This isn’t right, pretty bird.” He grunted in response “I don’t want our first night together to be in a bathroom at bar while we are drunk.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyeing proudly the bruise forming on his neck.

“We already slept with each other before, the previous night was one of them. We cuddled a lot.”

Tim sighted “You know I don’t mean sleep in the sleeping way.”

You licked your lips, a smirk curling on your lips.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want us to fuck in the bathroom while we are drunk?” You slid your hands over his shoulders, tralling a finger over his chest “But I want to, Timmy. I want you so bad.”

To prove a point you grinded your hips against his. He sucked in a breath, hands gripping your hips to keep you from moving.

“You are intoxicated, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want the first time we have sex together to be while we are drunk and can’t think straight.” He sighted at your pouting face “If you really want to, we can come back some other day.”

Your smiled wide at his words.

“Can we come back some other day, then? So you will fuck me senseless against the wall?”

Tim took a deep breath to contain himself. Who knew you were such a horny drunk?

“Anything you want, pretty bird.” He replied, pecking your lips “Let’s get you home.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Your groan was the first noise to fill the room at three o’clock in the afternoon. You sat in bed, rubbing a hand over your eyes and taking in your surroundings. You were at an unknown place, only wearing an oversized shirt and you would’ve freaked out if you haven’t seen the man beside you.

“Hey.” Tim said, his hair was falling down his eyes, and he looked like he had just woken up too “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” You groaned, flopping down on bed, but this time a bit closer to him, seeking his warmth “Where are we?”

He chuckled, running his hand trough your disheveled hair. You are pretty sure you look like a mess, your makeup is probably smudged, your hair all over the place. God, you can’t believe Tim is seeing you like this.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to see Oliver last night so I brought you to one of my safe houses.”

You nodded your head, but regretted the action immediately as it felt like your brain was being squeezed.

“I’m going to get you some coffee, food and an aspirin.” Tim said as he watched your grimace

“No, don’t leave, you’re warm.” You whined

He chuckled again, kissing your hair softly as he slid off the bed.

“I’ll be right back, love.”

You allowed him to go after the petname. Your heart fluttered at the words, love and pretty bird, you could get used to hearing him call you that. It sounds so good when he says it.

A few minutes later Tim showed up with a tray in hand, placing it on the bed beside you and then sitting himself at the mattress. You took the painkiller and gladly drank the coffee the boy had made, and welcomed the waffles into your belly. God, you are so hungry.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You said in a soft tone, eyeing him quiet shyly “And I am sorry for last night being a horny drunk.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He smiled down at you before laughing quiet loudly “And please, don’t apologize for being a horny drunk when I was kind of being one too.”

You nudged your head on his shoulder to hide your laugh and blush.

“Ok, we are both horny drunks.” You said, enjoining this moment of peace with him

You know that once you are outside this apartment and out there in the world, you are going to have to face your brother and your mom and oh no. You are meeting Talia and Nissa tonight. Fuck, what did you have in mind? What does Dinah always tell you? Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgements and that is exactly what you did last night.

“I know you are probably tired of this by now, but... I’m going to have to ask you to do something for me.”

“Sure, pretty bird, anything you want.”

You smiled a bit.

“I need you to get me some clothes from the manor, I can’t see Oliver before I do what I planned to do.”

Tim frowned, looking down at you for an explanation, but you had your eyes closed and most of your face hidden by his chest. He sighed, running his fingers trough your hair.

“What are you going to do?” He asked

“I’m going to meet up with Talia and Nissa tonight.” Your voice sounded muffled and you didn’t dare to look at his face, still keeping your eyes closed

Tim sat up straight, his hands pulling you away from him - even if honestly all he wanted was to keep you there by his side while you two cuddled. He frowned down at you.

“What do you mean you are meeting Talia and Nissa tonight?” He asked you seriously

In all the time you’ve met Tim, you’ve never seen him this serious. Of course, you’ve seen him serious but in a concentrated way as he was working on a case, or getting ready for patrol, and even then he would still look at you softly. Right now, he is giving you his batglare, and boy, doesn’t that make you want to make you as small as a ball.

You sighted before realizing it was best to just tell him the whole truth. So you did, you told him a bit more about the Ninth Circle, mostly just remembering him what you told him the night of the Casino slaughter. Then you told him about what Oliver found and that your mom is alive.

“I need to know if it’s true, Timmy.” Your voice wasn’t above a whisper “I need to know if I am right by being against Oliver on this one, I can’t let him treat her like a criminal. It’s my mom.”

He nodded his head, extending his arms until you were back in his embrace. Head against his chest, glad to have him by your side during this bad time.

“I know, if it was my mom I would do the same thing.” He sighted “Do you want me to go with you?”

You shook your head “Something tells me she won’t talk with you there. But I will tell you everything later.”

The wind was cold during the night again, but this time you were wearing a warmer jacket. Tim had picked up some of your clothes from your bedroom at the manor and brought them to his safe house where you showered and changed into it.

You were standing at the rooftop of the old Theater. Crime Alley really was as horrible as everyone said it was. This was your first time being at that place and it was enough to give you chills, and you knew pretty well it wasn’t from the cold.

You had allowed Tim to take you there, but made him leave immediately and promise you that he wasn’t going to be around. After some persuasion he was back at his normal route of patrol with a promise of a call once it was all done. You could handle Talia and Nissa if it was necessary.

A bow and arrows was attached to your back just in case.

“When my sister told me you wanted to meet, I honestly thought you lost it.” Talia’s voice cut trough the night

You looked over your shoulder before turning around. Talia stood there with her hands on her back, bow and arrow and a sword with her.

“Thank you for showing up.” You said, nodding your head towards her “Nissa didn’t want to come?”

“I told her to stay behind on this one, it appears this is a matter between us only.”

You brifily smiled at her. You did not hate the woman despite everything she had done, and right now you needed her to get the answers you want, so being rude was not an option.

“I have some questions for you.” You spoke up, eyeing her closely just to make sure she wasn’t going to attack you before you were ready for it

“Let’s see if I can and will be willing to answer them.” Talia smirked

You took a deep breath, not only to calm yourself down and not give into her, but also to prepare yourself for questioning her what you were about to.

“When Malcom and Oliver fought, three years ago, I was held as the prize. Why did your father accept that?”

Talia rolled her eyes “After all those years and you want to know now?”

When you didn’t answer she started laughing.

“Oh my, oh my. Do you and your brother finally learned the truth? About dead or not so dead mom?”

You set your jaw to keep yourself from saying something you’d regret later. Not really regret because it would feel grate to curse her in her face, but that would spark a fight and most likely you wouldn’t get the answers you needed.

“Yes. Now tell me what you know, Talia, before I loose my patience.”

That only made the woman’s smile winden.

“I would like to see if you still remember all of your training.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. Reaching out behind you, you pulled out an arrow and your bow. Aiming at the building, you fired it, the arrow zipped past her, scratching her face and embedding itself at the wall.

“You missed.” She said, wiping away the blood that was running down her cheek

“No, I didn’t.”

Talia turned around, watching where you arrow had hit. Right in the center of where a person’s heart would be on an old billboard picture of a man, announcing some show at the Theater.

“Drama runs in the family.” She said under her breath before taking a step closer to you “Alright then, shall we sit?”

You watched as she took a sit at the railing of the building. You stood in front of her, not letting your defenses down, if she was to attack you, you’d be ready.

“As you might have guessed, you bing the prize of the fight wasn’t Merly’s idea and neither was mine or my father’s.” Talia began, you nodded your head “A few months prior to the fight, we got a massage from the Ninth Circle calling us for a meeting. Obviously, we were a bit confused as to how Moira Queen was alive, but this one you should ask her yourself. To sum it all up, your mother proposed the fight and for you to join the League where we would train until you were the best assassin you could be. Then, you were to join her and Ninth Circle so you two would be reunited and they would have a perfect and loyal assassin by their sides.”

You frowned. “And why would your father take the deal?”

She smirked “You know my father wanted to train your brother, but he couldn’t because he already had a formed opinion. But train a teenager who is still forming a personality, perfect oportunity. Although I thought it was a waste of time, you and Oliver are too much alike.”

“Then why did you agree to this idea? You seemed to like pretty much hurting me during around practices together?” You asked, trying not to yell "Why are you willing to tell me everything now?"

Talia’s shoulders tensed and she stood up from her stop at the railing.

“I am a mother myself, Y/n.”

You nodded, understanding where her help came from. Apparently, she doesn’t have the best of relations with Damian.

“And where does Oliver fit into all of this?” You asked, changing the subject and hoping you didn’t upset her

“I think this is enough of an interrogation, I already helped you more than I honestly should.”

She stepped up the ralling of the building, looking over her shoulder to stare at you in the eye. She looked dead serious.

“Don’t come looking for me again, next time I won’t be so friendly. Tell my son I will be in town for one more day.”

And with that Talia was gone.

#tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfic #tim drake headcanon #tim drake #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #red robin imagine #red robin x reader #red robin #oliver queen x reader #roy harper x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #batboys x reader #batfam

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shinidamachu · 5 years ago

Text

Ours

Summary: The stakes are high. The water's rough. But this love is ours. Word Count: 10.816 Genre: Fluff? Angst? Who’s to say? Certainly not me, the author. Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“Sota, put this thing away. I won’t ask you again.”

“Fine!” The teenager let out in exasperation, putting the phone back into the confinement of his pocket.

His grandpa was making him lose his mind. In the interlude of fifteen minutes, the old man had managed to rant about how kids these days always had their faces stuffed into some kind of screen twice.

The bit about damaging the sight and going blind by the age of thirty-five because of it? A lecture all of its own.

“In my time,” he began, making Sota fight the urgency to groan, “we treated the elderly with respect and behaved at the table. It’s a sacred moment!”

“We’re not even eating, anyway! Kagome and her stupid boyfriend are late.”

“Sota! Manners!” Intervened his mom. “We don’t want InuYasha to think Kagome’s family is made up of inconsiderate barbarians, do we?”

Sota rolled his eyes, but remained silent. It was gonna be a long night.

There they were, in Earth’s lamest restaurant, waiting for his sister to arrive with her new boyfriend, who, going with the odds, was probably a goody-two-shoes nerd, just like that Hojo guy.

There was no one his age within the radius of a mile.

He was starving.

And to top it all off, bored to death.

It wasn’t like Sota didn’t love his family. He really did. Besides, seeing Kagome again was something he was looking forward to. Since she had moved out for medical school, they hadn’t spent much time together and although the boy would never admit it, he had quite missed their daily bickering.

He just wished they could met at home, in company of his TV and video games, where he could actually avoid his grandpa’s constant scolding in the holy peace of his bedroom.

“Look! Look, look, look, look, look.” As if on cue, the man in question elbowed Sota’s arm, coaxing him to eye the restaurant entrance. He silently snorted, wondering why his grandpa felt the annoying need to repeat the same word grumpier and more demanding each time. Didn’t he know Sota could hear him just fine from the first one? Nevertheless, wanting to get it over with, the boy did as he was told. A silver haired gentleman stayed awkwardly in the middle of the entryway, his attention torned between the salon and the outside. Even from afar, his demonic heritage stood out, but the dog ears crowning his head wasn’t the only remarkable feature he carried. “See his arms? What a disgrace, to dishonor his own body like that. I pray you, my boy, that you never inflict such disappointment on your old grandfather. I couldn’t bear the pain of seeing my only grandson grow into mafia scum.”

Sota didn’t respond the overdramatic affirmation. He was wonderstruck.

In spite of the anxiety the guy irradiated, he still looked pretty cool, dressed on dark jeans and an elegant white shirt. He had his sleeves rolled up to the biceps, displaying an impressive amount of tattoos. They covered all of the skin, from his wrists to his forearms, possibly ending at the shoulders. It was hard to make out the different shapes, given the distance, but every single one was drawn in black ink.

“Stop staring, you two.” Sang his mom. And Sota was about to obey.

But then, in entered his sister.

Kagome clung to the tattooed, supposedly criminal man, causing him to relax on the spot as her gaze scanned the room.

When the girl finally found them, her face lighted up in an excited smile. She said what, reading her lips, Sota interpreted as ‘there they are’ before taking him by the hand and heading right to their suddenly silent table.

It seemed that the night wouldn’t pass by without its share of emotions, after all.

“InuYasha,are you ready? I don’t want to be late!”

The hanyou sighed in front of the mirror. Did she mean finished with dressing up ready or psychologically ready? It didn’t matter. The answer was no for both.

InuYasha had tried on almost every clothe he had. It served him right for letting piles and more piles of worn-out band t-shirts compose his wardrobe.

His mother had a point. He could definitely use a little makeover.

Every piece felt either too ordinary or too odd, so InuYasha gave up and went back to the button-down shirt he had put first — one of the few decent things he had to wear.

Now closed in their bathroom, determined to pay his mother’s atelier a visit as soon as possible and obsessively aligning the outfit, he couldn’t help but think the reflection staring back didn’t look like him at all.

“Actually, can we reschedule?”

“No way!” Squeaked his girlfriend, her steps louder and louder in her approach. “We’ve been postponing this for too long. Okay, I’m coming in!” She announced, opening the door at once.

“Whatever happened to privacy?”

“It moved out when I moved in.” His girlfriend threw him her best heart stopping smirk and walked in his direction. “Don’t you look gorgeous?”

“Keh. You always say that.” And he had yet to hear it without blushing.

“It’s always true.” Kagome wrapped her arms around his neck. With the extra inches the heels provided, she was nearly his height and her rose lips hovered temptingly within the reach of his. “Won’t you get hot on this shirt, though? We’re in the middle of summer.”

“I’ll be fine!” InuYasha burst out before he could bite back his tongue. Kagome considered him attentively, her narrowed eyes growing wide in realization.

“You’re hiding the tattoos, aren’t you?”

InuYasha looked away.

“I want them to like me.”

It was a difficult enough task to achieve. Being a half breed, he was despised by demons and feared by humans — apparently his ears, fangs and claws, not to mention the unusual color of his eyes and hair, were a lot for them to take in. The absolute last thing InuYasha needed was for her family to think he was some sort of delinquent too. Which, of course, they would.

He figured, since people would be afraid of him either way, he might as well took it to his advantage and do whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. As a result, whoever wasn’t scared of his demon blood sure pissed their pants at the sight of his tattoos, taking him for a criminal. InuYasha couldn’t care less. There was a good amount of fights against human opponents he won that way.

But that was before her.

Not caring is easier when you have nothing to lose.

InuYasha didn’t doubt his actions would blow up on his face, eventually. It was all they ever did. But never, not even in a million years, he could have predicted Kagome. Now consequences were here to bite him in the ass.

Her folks had plenty to unpack the way it was. At least with the tattoos he could do something about.

“InuYasha…” Her slender fingers caressed his chin, demanding his focus entirely for herself. He complied. “You don’t have to do this. I want you to be yourself.” She grabbed his right arm and rolled the sleeve all the way up, revealing the intricate mosaic of figures, doodles and forms he collected along the last decade. “They are going to love you.”

“Easy for you to say, now that my family worships the ground you walk on.”

It had only taken a mild sunday lunch. By the end of it, Kagome had Mr. and Mrs. Taisho eating from the palm of her hand, just like she had their son. That was the day his mother had furtively handed him the engagement ring she inherited from her mother, claiming Kagome was the one he should give it to when the right moment comes. There was no falter from his part.

A month had passed, Kagome and his mom texted one another on a daily basis, and the damn thing still weighed deep inside his pocket. InuYasha carried it with him everywhere, waiting for the perfect occasion and concerned that she might find it if he left it lying around.

“Well, worship is such a strong word...” Said Kagome, doing with his left sleeve the same thing she did with the other, but this time allowing herself to trace the black marks of his arm, lingering on the newest, the little sakura flower InuYasha had gotten solely for her. He raised his eyebrows. “Okay, maybe your parents do it a little bit, but your brother hates my guts. You gotta give me that.”

“Nah, Sesshoumaru hates everyone. You ain’t special.”

“Huh… Thanks?”

InuYasha smiled at her adorable grimace, but it was short lived.

“What if they don’t? Like me, I mean.”

Both of them knew it was a real possibility.

If they were being honest, they hated each other at the beginning themselves. Most of it, undoubtful, due to repressed sexual attraction. Still, they were constantly jumping at each other’s throats before starting to jump at each other’s bones.

Attracting and repelling like magnets, they have been through a crazy amount of screaming, crying and slamming doors. Once it was clear that what they had was much more than sex, the need had risen to protect that love at all costs.

They had to.

Every odd was against them.

He was a half demon. Most people hated him at worse and tolerated at best — and that had a lot to do with his family’s money, Kagome being one of the uncommon exceptions. In fact, she was the exception to essentially every rule he had.

She was also a human. No, not only a human. That would be too easy. The girl was a priestess. Her family was responsible for a fucking shrine.

Their relationship was the epitome of taboo.

So they had kept it on the low for as long as they could, adopting a discreet profile even after she moved in with him. They didn’t want to risk it, didn’t want to jinx it. It wasn’t worth it.

Their love was theirs and theirs alone, too precious to fall into the cruel claws of the world.

It was a shame it couldn’t stay that way forever.

Sooner or later they would have to leave the safe heaven inside those walls and he was terrified of finding out whether or not they could take it.

Kagome’s kindness, her unprejudiced beliefs... They had to come from somewhere, and she affirmed it was from her family. How would her folks react, however, once those beliefs were put to the test? InuYasha learned from experience that, sometimes, people struggled to stick to their morals the second they stopped being convenient.

“Then it will be just another bump on the road. What’s one more?”

Her hands flew to undo his top button — and nothing more. Tensing involuntarily when her digits contacted the exposed skin, InuYasha let out a shaky breath as she retreated to explore his chest over the shirt, shamelessly going lower.

“Weren’t you the one in a hurry just now?”

“I am.” She defied.

“I’m not.”

InuYasha placed his hands on her waist and pressed her against the nearest wall. He couldn’t help it, not after the things she said. Especially when she said them with that dress on — light blue, contrasting with the darkness of her hair, the skirt hugging her waistline, widening at the bottom. No sleeves. Only provocative, unbelievably thin straps. So different from her everyday white clothes.

It was his favorite and he had no doubt it was intentional.

“InuYasha…”

Her mouth was off limits. InuYasha knew better than to mess up her makeup mere minutes away of such important event. Her neck, on the other hand…

“Don’t you look gorgeous?” He asked, nose burying on her skin.

“Uh, uh. D-don’t you sweet talk me.” Kagome tilted her head, giving him unrestrained access and grabbing a handful of his hair as he hooked her leg around him, fingers lifting her skirt up, venturing further and further.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She was limp in his embrace. InuYasha recognized by instinct when his body was the only thing preventing hers from melting to the ground.

“We… We’re doing this.”

“I know.” He eagerly kissed her collarbone, downing to the start of the cleavage.

“It’s just a harmless dinner...” She was panting now, nails traveling through his back, applying sufficient pressure to make quite the damage had he been naked. InuYasha went up her throat, his tongue wandering free.

“Hmmm.”

“...And then… T-then we’ll go... to my childhood house.” Kagome paused and he knew it was to hold back a moan as he relentlessly kissed his way up to her chin and jawline, finding destination at her earlobe. “You’ll get…” He bit it. “... T-to see my old bedroom,” bargained her. InuYasha smirked.

“I’m listening,” he whispered, returning to her neck. InuYasha had every intention to suck on the inviting flesh until it left a mark, but restrained himself. Something told him her family wouldn’t be fond of it.

His resolve not to claim her lips, though, were increasingly fading. Whatever. Better beg for her taste now and for her forgiveness later.

Reading his thoughts — as she often did —, Kagome gently pushed him away. Good. Their proximity, allied with the escalating scent of her arousal, wasn’t making them any favors in the ‘getting out of the house’ department.

“Come on,” she tapped his hand, subtly pleading for him to release her leg, a lead that InuYasha followed with extreme reluctance. He observed as his girlfriend regained composure. The fingers that not long ago were mapping, grasping and scratching every inch of him now fixed the dress strap he had no memory of pulling down. To a newcomer, it would look as if nothing had ever happened. “We’ll have a wonderful time.”

“To be fair, I was having a wonderful time just now.”

“Oh, I can tell you were. That’s exactly why we better get going.”

“Fine.” InuYasha sighed, letting himself be dragged out of their bathroom as she giggled at his less than thrilled disposition.

And there was something about her laughter — so vibrant and carefree — that, combined with the welcome comfort of her hand on his, made InuYasha feel invincible. Having Kagome by his side was like entering the boxe ring already ten points ahead.

“Do you want to go through the basics again?”

Crossing the living room, InuYasha recited his mental notes without missing a beat, the perfect picture of an A+ student, even if for the most part of his life, he had been a solid C+.

“Don’t swear. Don’t bring up your father. Don’t mention we live together.”

“Good! Unless...” Kagome stopped and turned to him. Half hesitant, half hopeful. “Do you think I should tell mom I moved here?”

InuYasha was conflicted. It was only fair that she did. His parents had heard the news the day she brought all of her stuff in. And in spite of knowing he’d give her the world if she so wished, Kagome never asked for much.

Yet, he was scared. Scared that Mrs. Higurashi disapproved the arrangement. Scared she would tell her daughter to leave.

What, then?

He had forgotten how his apartment — their apartment — used to be before the bright colors and pout-porris. Before the plants, the second toothbrush on the sink, the pictures frames and the intoxicating scent her body left all over the sheets.

And he didn’t want to remember.

According to Kagome, however, her mother was an understanding, open-minded woman, who put her children’s happiness above everything else. Which certainly worked in his favor, since InuYasha had turned making Kagome happy into his daily mission and, modesty aside, he believed to be doing a pretty damn good job so far.

InuYasha starred at their fingers, still interlocked, and reminded to be brave.

“If you feel like you should...”

“I do! I honestly do. We used to tell every little thing to each other. I miss that.”

“Then go ahead.”

“Really?” She thanked him with a tight hug, her palpable excitement coming off her in a giant wave that almost washed all of his doubts away. Almost.

“What about the others?”

“Sota is a child, it’s not of his business.”

“And your grandfather?”

Kagome moved within his embrace, revealing pursed lips when she did.

“Yeah... He’ll definitely need more time. Let’s give it three to five years!”

A surprised laugh left his lips when he saw the truth behind the joke.

“You’re freaking out about telling him, aren’t you?”

“Am not!”

“You totally are!” He said, deflecting from the fact that he, too, was panicking and that waiting five years or more to have that talk was actually a very appealing idea.

“It’s just… He can be a tad traditional sometimes.”

“Awesome!” InuYasha said, with every drop of sarcasm he could gather. “We both know I’m all about traditions.”

Smiling, she reached for his hand again.

“Shall we?”

They call it ripple effect. It’s the situation in which one event produces a certain impact, inevitably spreading and producing further consequences. The concept usually comes with the classic example of throwing a rock in a steady pond, which InuYasha thought fitting. Whenever the half demon first stepped into a crowd of strangers, he pretty much felt like that rock.

Heads would turn straight to him in cascade. Surprise. Terror. Disgust. Condescension. Pity. As years went by, he had gotten it all.

Be as it may, soon enough the staring would abruptly get directed anywhere else and be replaced with whispers they didn’t know he could hear. Eventually, the waters would settle, but after the initial contact, the pond could never go back to the way it was. Neither could the rock.

His father had taught him to keep his chin up no matter what. The hatred of lesser men was an irrelevant price to pay for being unique. He should be proud of who he is. His mother had told him not to seek validation from others when he already had people who loved and cared for him unconditionally. Those were the guidances InuYasha religiously lived by. Still, sometimes, the hanyou wished he was allowed to just be.

That night was surely the case.

The restaurant was crowded. It should be, in such a busy hour. The habitual glaring didn’t go unnoticed by InuYasha when he walked in — it bore holes on his flesh and broke into his bones. As usual, he brushed it off.

His focus oscillated like the flames inside the ornamental lanterns that provided warmth to the place in shades of red, orange and yellow.

Before him, undistinguished buzz raised above the background music and the pervasive smell of food served as a cruel reminder that he hadn’t put anything in his stomach since lunch. The lights, the sounds, the people, the scents. It was an overwhelming sensation to contemplate it all. In another day, in a calmer state of mind, he would have spotted her family in a heartbeat. Kagome, the loving daughter she was, had shown him enough pictures of them for the task to be a child’s play. Still, he didn’t dare to look. Not yet. Not when he was so unsure of what he might find written all over their faces. The same phrases on different pages.

Behind him, a delighted Kagome chatted in the staircase with the woman she had introduced as her middle school history professor. InuYasha had promptly forgotten her name. In no mood for engaging the conversation and wanting to save all of his small talk for dinner, he had politely excused himself, opting for walking ahead while the two of them reminisced.

Obviously, he had underestimated her communication skills, because a considerable amount of time had passed until Kagome caught up to him. Her arm tangled up with his quite easily. All at once, everything was gone, reduced to the speck of dust they were. There was only Kagome, searching the room in concentration. And there was only him, dazed by the smile that accommodated so well on her face, by the colors dancing on her cheeks and lights glittering on her eyes.

“There they are!” Kagome announced, breaking the spell.

His throat went completely dry. On his brain, sirens ran off, telling him to run for his life. How disappointed would she get if he grabbed her and fled? InuYasha also wondered, in vain, what the opponents he had faced would think, if they discovered what a coward the man who had ruthlessly knocked them out truly was. Kagome guided him towards the table where her family awaited, dispelling the intrusive thoughts away.

“Sorry we’re late!” She sat down and so did InuYasha, taking the free spot by her side. “We got caught up in traffic.”

“That’s alright, honey.” Mrs. Higurashi reassured with a tone as sweet as her smile. “I’m just glad you’re here now. We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. So much!” She replied, drinking each component of her family in, as if to carve their features into her memory so she might have something to hold onto until they met again. After a brief pause, Kagome kicked off the introductions. “Everyone, this is InuYasha. InuYasha, this is my family.”

Her grandfather was a perfect materialization of the pictures InuYasha had seen, with his wrinkled skin, grey hair and stoic expression. Her mother, too, matched up his expectations. The woman portrayed an effortless type of beauty, all dimples and heart-shaped face framed by wavy, short brown hair.

It was Sota who surprised him the most.

From Kagome’s descriptions, InuYasha was under the impression the boy would be way smaller than he actually was — although he was small, considering he was still a child. The half demon couldn’t decide if Kagome was oblivious to Sota’s growth due to her crazy student schedule or if it was her big sister bias that affected her judgement, but it was clear that Sota was gonna be taller than her in the near future. The boy also looked very clever for his age — even to someone in InuYasha’s case, who knew little to nothing about kids — and stared at him with something suspiciously close to expectancy.

InuYasha cleared his throat.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The reciprocal is hardly true.” Whipped a dissonant baritone, so rigid it cut the air. “I haven’t heard much of you, that’s for sure and certain.”

There was no naivety left on InuYasha to believe the lack of reciprocity the man mentioned had anything to do with whether Kagome had told them detailed stories about her new boyfriend or not.

Apparently, Mrs. Higurashi had picked up on how shallow his last sentence sounded as well, because she was quick to swoop in and smooth things over.

“You were, indeed, a mystery, InuYasha.”

“I told you why.” Intervened Kagome, in an apologizing tone. “We were still figuring things out.”

“Well, if you two are done with figuring things out, can we please eat?” Sota retorted. InuYasha had no complaints there. Unfortunately, the elderly man interrupted them with the unapologetic conviction of someone who wasn’t aware a conversation was being had, or that simply didn’t care.

“Are you a Yakuza member?”

It didn’t go unnoticed by the hanyou that the man had addressed him twice without calling his name once. Nonetheless, the question was absolutely directed to InuYasha. Even if the word ‘Yakuza’ wasn’t instantly associated with the tattoos he carried, there were other indications. The abrupt silence that followed, one step away from a cliff of awkwardness, for instance. Or the hawk eyes of Kagome’s grandfather, studying his every move.

Luckly, he had warned his girlfriend in advance something like that could happen. More often than not, it did. To the point where he was used to it. And as much as she didn’t like it, he resolved to brush it off, at least for the night.

“Because of the tattoos?” He asked, playing dumb. “I get that a lot, but no. I just think they’re cool.” InuYasha shrugged, then felt the uncontrollable need to over explain himself: “The tattoos, I mean. Not the mafia.”

That earned him a laugh from Sota and a chuckle from Mrs. Higurashi. Kagome and her grandfather didn’t find it so funny.

“Grandpa, tattoos are very common thing all around the world! Don’t you think if everyone who had one was a Yakuza member, we’d be in serious trouble by now?” InuYasha observed her spit the acid comeback, thrown off to see their parts inverted. Usually, he was the one starting fires left and right and she was the placid source of water that always put them down. Again, the man ignored it.

“Then what do you do for a living?”

InuYasha almost smirked. That was precisely the sort of cliche interrogatory he was expecting — no, that he was wishing. After walking on so many eggshells, they were finally entering known territory and, as he felt the firm path of a parents pleaser answer forming under his feet, his confidence boosted.

“I’m majoring in business administration. My father wants my brother and I to learn as much as we can, if we’re gonna run the family company someday.”

It was extremely satisfying to watch the guy trying and failing to come up with any judgemental thing to say. His mouth sealed into a thin line.

“But what InuYasha really wants is to be a boxer.”

His head snapped to Kagome, astonished that she would turn him in there and then. The girl was not kidding when she demanded him to be himself.

“No way!” Sota exclaimed the words in the precise way his sister did when she was excited.

“Isn’t this dangerous, dear?” Mrs. Higurashi was genuine concerned. Her cinnamon irises studied him carefully, as if already searching for wounds. It reminded him of his own mother.

“Actually, InuYasha is undefeated.” Kagome replied for him, not bothering to hide the pride tone in her voice.

So it’s chill when you brag about it, but when I do, I’m a cocky jerk. He amused, simultaneously deciding it sounded better when she did, anyway.

“Awesome! How come I have never seen you fight on TV?”

At Sota’s crescent interest, InuYasha answered in a bursting of atypical modesty.

“I didn’t get there just yet.”

“I’m sure it’s a matter of time.” Encouraged Mrs. Higurashi. Kagome’s grandfather scoffed. “I must ask you, though: how did you two met?”

“My sister isn’t the most athletic of girls.” Agreed Sota.

“I can’t believe I missed you.” The girl fired back.

“That’s true. But I can tell you first hand that she’s got a mean right hook.”

Her brother was thrilled. Her mom, not so much.

“She punched you?”

“Oh, my.”

“No! I gave her a couple of self defense classes, that’s all.” InuYasha hurried to explain.

“Oh!” Mrs. Higurashi seemed visibly relieved her daughter didn’t walk around purposefully breaking the criminal code. “Well, in that case I really appreciate it. Thank you, dear.”

“So that’s how you met? Self defense classes?”

“Not quite.”

The self defense classes came way later, in what InuYasha labeled as the ‘denial’ phase.

It started on a random night. They were arguing over something stupid, for a change. Things escalated rather fast and, against his better judgement, they had angry sex on her couch. He hadn’t thought much of it back them, telling himself they were just blowing off steam, that it wouldn’t happen again.

Only it did.

Over and over.

It was useless to fight it. No way to escape it. After a while, InuYasha had stopped trying and accepted the fact that every road lead him back to her bed. What he couldn’t, wouldn’t, refused to acknowledge, however, was that somewhere along the way, an invisible line was crossed and, as animosity gave space to awkward cordiality and awkward cordiality gave space to unlikely fondness, Kagome became much more than a mind-blowing fuck, even if at first he was too stubborn to say so.

And so, InuYasha came up with socially acceptable excuses to spend more time with her without it coming off as a big deal, hence the self defense classes. They were perfect for them, once it was something he mastered and it involved lots of physical contact. Besides, the half demon slept better at night, knowing Kagome could throw a proper punch at anyone who got too handsy. It wasn’t part of the ordinary self defense program, but then again, she was no ordinary girl. Although her spiritual powers assured no youkai would lay a finger on her, the priestess was on her own in terms of human threats. What InuYasha did was making sure that was enough.

They’ve been inseparable ever since.

“We’ve met through Miroku long before that.” Kagome clarified, conveniently leaving the petty behavior and childish arguments they had that first day out of it. “InuYasha is his roommate. Also, Sango has been friends with him since he was ten.”

“Oh!” The table nodded in understanding, working the math for themselves. It wasn’t a difficult calculation to make.

Miroku was a close friend of her family. Quite literally, given they were neighbors for as long as the bastard could remember. His family was spiritually gifted like no other and took to themselves the responsibility to help little Kagome Higurashi to improve her abilities to the fullest. As a result, they grew up together. People often confused them for siblings and at heart, they were.

InuYasha met the nuisance of a friend several years later, when both of them entered college. Graduation certainly wasn’t his biggest goal in life. Far from it. It was more like a boring thing he had to do in order to conquer his deserved space in the real world. Regardless, the half demon was eager to enjoy his first shot at independency.

He found a great place right outside campus, but the extent of time he could afford it without resorting to his folk’s pockets was limited. Doing all of the domestic chores by himself wasn’t appealing, either. He needed a roommate.

A river of candidates flooded his inbox — it was truly a fantastic deal — Miroku stood out for being the only human to reply to his advertisement. Curious, InuYasha booked an interview. The man was clearly a womanizer, appreciated a good booze and was the farthest thing from what he claimed his family to be. Or from what InuYasha looked for in a friend.

And yet, to his total bewilderment, they hit it off right away.

How was he supposed to know Miroku would fall for Sango?

His best friend Sango.

The same Sango who helped him to train under the correct and outraging pretext that she had always been faster, that his defense was pathetic and that she would hate to see him get his ass kicked.

Gorgeous, confident, heart of gold Sango…

Yes, standing back from it now, InuYasha was a fool for not seeing it coming, since that was the obvious part.

The not so obvious one was that the two lovebirds would engage into a very loving, very serious relationship and that when Sango’s turn came to move out for college, Miroku would suggest an old friend to fill the vacant roommate position in her new apartment. A freshman as well, named Kagome.

And so InuYasha’s undoing began.

An unplanned dinner with mutual friends was hardly the most remarkable way to meet someone, but whenever InuYasha thought about the exquisite series of coincidences, about all of the incidents bound to happen in order to put them face to face in that distant autumn night… Well, he couldn’t shake the feeling it was meant to be, even if he had never had much faith in destiny, soulmates or any of that corny crap, there was no denying that suddenly every love song started making sense.

Flash forward and Miroku switched places with Kagome to better attend the living situation for the four of them. And that was that.

“What a… Delightful turn of events.” The venomous remark of the Higurashi patriarch brought the hanyou back to the present. This polite facade was what bothered him the most and InuYasha wanted the man, just for once, to say what he actually meant to say.

“Isn’t it?” Said Kagome, her enthusiasm palpable. If the girl had noticed the sarcasm hidden in that comment — and InuYasha was willing to bet so —, she made a point to disdain it, landing one hand on his knee, a discreet act of support.

Her grandfather clenched his jaw.

“InuYasha, you mentioned your family owns a company.” Mrs. Higurashi changed the subject unapologetically. “Any chances we have heard of it?”

He clung to the distraction like it was a life jacket.

“Probably, yeah! Taisho Inc.?”

“As in Toga Taisho?” Sota asked, his chin dropping. “Toga Taisho is your dad?”

“And Izayoi is his mom.” Kagome added, fixing a knowing gaze on her own mother, whose bewilderment now mirrored her son’s.

“The Izayoi?”

“The one and only.” The hanyou nodded, accustomed to the heated reactions his distinguished bloodline got him. For better or for worse.

“Oh, her brand is fantastic! I read somewhere every clothing collection is environment friendly. And they’re so affordable, too!”

“Mom, you’re jabbering.” Interjected Sota.

“Sorry.” She said. More to be polite than anything else. “I’m a huge fan of her work!”

“So I’ve been told.” InuYasha glanced at Kagome, who stared at him right back. It was all it took, and he would be able to draw a meticulous picture of what she was thinking: both their mothers, chatting and enjoying a cold cup of tea under the setting sun like long date friends. Knowing his mom — and now Mrs. Higurashi — that was quite a possible scene.

“I’m sure the two of you will meet at some point.” Proclaimed Kagome. “Anyway… You won’t believe who InuYasha and I bumped into when we arrived—”

“Miss Kaede.” Sota and Mrs. Higurashi simultaneously answered, and at Kagome’s questioning expression, the boy shrugged. “She saw when we got here and came to say hi.”

They ordered minutes after.

The meal was hot and tasty, one of the best InuYasha had ever had. It helped that having dinner with her family, as it turned out, had been an overall pleasant experience. Light. Breezy. Sota and Mrs Higurashi did a wonderful job at keeping him comfortable. InuYasha would go as far as saying they had liked him, and for that he was insanely grateful.

Kagome’s grandfather, however, was a whole other story. The guy despised him and didn’t lift a finger to cover it, but he had spent the rest of the night relatively quiet about it, so InuYasha labeled it as progress.

He had offered them a ride home and they had accepted, just like Kagome said they would. It was funny, the speed in which he grew accustomed to their dynamics. Kagome and her brother mindless bickering, their mother pretending exasperation while secretly pleased, the drive filled with childhood tales and life updates, a innocent joke every now and then. It was decidedly something InuYasha could be a part of.

Their property was a rustic piece of land inserted between one urban construction and the next, refusing to be touched by modern convenience. Kagome’s enchantment for the place was justified. Growing up in there couldn’t have been anything less than magical.

“It’s not much,” Mrs. Higurashi apologized, “but it’s home.” She opened the door and turned on the light.

The house seemed bigger on the inside. Not fancy big. Cozy big. On every wall, past and future merged themselves in harmony. The decoration, simple and of good taste, spoke anecdotes of the merry family living there.

As they entered the living room, a movement alarmed his senses, and in a quick motion InuYasha dove in just in time to grab the falling ornamental vase before it hit the ground. The responsible for the almost disaster meowed and jumped off the glass shelf, making a point of stepping on InuYasha with indifference to then greet the others.

“You must be Buyo.”

“Nice catch!” Congratulated Sota.

“Oh, my! Thank you, InuYasha. This vase is very dear to me.” He handed her the adornment, which was immediately restored the its rightful spot. “Kagome, why don’t you show your boyfriend around?”

Obediently, her daughter let go of the purring cat and played the role of guide, giving him a comprehensive tour through her former home. Truth to her word, she saved the best for last.

“Before we get in, I want you to remember I was young and didn’t know any better.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He established, gesturing for her to rush and turn the knob.

Her bedroom was a gleeful explosion of pink and purple. From the roof to the floor, most of the surfaces were bathed in different shades of the combination. Sheets. Teddy bears. Carpet. Alarm clock. Curtains. Posters that could now pass for vintage. InuYasha was impressed. Despite all reason, the aesthetic actually worked.

He barked a laugh.

“What did you have against the other colors?”

“Shut up, I was five!”

InuYasha ignored her in favor of snooping around. Objects that dared not to stick with the pink or purple agenda were inevitably highlighted by it. He went after those first.

“So many CDs!” InuYasha contemplated, inspecting her collection attentively. Music was a passion they shared. Even though she was a pop kind of girl and he fell more into the rock line, they had been able to find common ground, eventually. Like Rihanna. Or The Beatles. “Are you kidding me?”

Kagome acknowledged his raised brows and the copy of a NSYNC album he was holding with a giggle.

“I stand by it.”

Books also filled the room. For starts, there was the Biology ones, piled up on her writing desk in a greater amount than what could be considered healthy — and more worn out than the math editions. On the main bookcase, he ran his claws through the good stuff. Jane Austen. J.K. Rowling. Stephen King. He wasn’t much of a reader, himself. His relationship with literature came down to the bedtime stories her mom lulled him to sleep with and A Song of Ice and Fire, which Kagome was currently reading because of him, albeit they had binged Game Of Thrones together.

Among her personal, reduced library, there was one book that gave the impression not to belong. It was larger, made of aged, tawny leather and no inscription was printed on the spine. Curious, InuYasha pulled it out, discovering the item to be a photo album. He pointed to its cover.

“Can I?”

“Knock yourself out.”

She paid no attention to him as he sat on her bed and cautiously flipped through the pages, too lost in her own nostalgia.

The compilation began at a hospital room. A younger Mrs. Higurashi exhibited a teary smile to the chubby newborn nestled against her chest, the arms of an equally jubilant man involved them in a hug. Mr. Higurashi had elongated traits that narrowed his chin and pronounced nose in a gentle manner, like time had purposefully left his boyish attributes untouched. He resembled Sota. In everything except his wavy, dark hair. InuYasha grinned. Kagome had her father’s hair.

The photograph below showed three pair of legs, lazily lying on white sheets. A woman, a man and between them a baby, the size difference contributing to make the latter even cuter. Next to that, a picture of baby Kagome old enough to sit up, dressing onesie pajamas and chewing on a pacifier. Her grandfather appeared every now and then, feeding her porridge, kissing her tiny palm, exasperated at the paint mess she had done on the hall.

InuYasha watched her grow up the deeper he advanced. From crawling to standing behind Mrs. Higurashi, wrapping her little arms around the long skirt of her mother as she did the dishes. From that, to climbing onto a chair to help her father with the baking, covered in flour in front of the kitchen table while he proudly cleaned her up. Picnics. Beach trips. Birthdays. Every milestone was documented. After her first day at school — a big red ribbon on her hair —, new characters came to scene. Miroku, by her side on the backyard, one of his teeth missing and autumn leaves sticking to the two of them everywhere, twin wide smiles on their lips. Buyo, only a kitten napping on her lap as they sat on a tyre swing. She was wearing a beautiful dress and sneakers, her feet inches away from the ground.

There was a significant passage of time when InuYasha turned to another page. He knew it because, abruptly, Sota was there too, even though Mrs. Higurashi had been pregnant just a few images ago. The subtitle read Kagome, giving her baby brother a bath. In reality, she had used shampoo to pin all of his hair up. Her growth was perceptible as well.

There were no pictures of Mr. Higurashi anymore.

Instead, Sota, Miroku and some other friends conquered a little more of space, as Kagome got closer and closer to become the woman InuYasha came to know. The final picture was of her high school gang. Ayumi, Eri, Yuka.

And Hojo.

She had dated him back then and they were friends to this day. Naturally. Because Kagome was fundamentally a good person. And the fucker was unabashedly still into her.

The worst thing was, he couldn’t even bring himself to resent the guy. As a matter of fact, the hanyou pitied him. If InuYasha was in his shoes, he doubt he could ever move on from Kagome. Be that as it may, he much would have preferred they had held a grudge, blocked each other on social media and called it quits. Like normal people did.

Kagome was staring out the window by the time InuYasha shut the album and returned it to its shelf. He let his face fall into the curve of her shoulder — a flawless fit — in the process of embracing her waist. She leaned her head to him, her fingertips caressing his forearms.

Out of respect, they had left the door open, but it was just for show. His keen senses ensured they could get away with innocent displays of affection without having to worry about unexpected interruptions.

“What are we lookin’ at?”

“The Goshinboku.” The view of her bedroom was composed by a stunning garden, a mighty tree standing tall in the center of it. “When I was a little girl, there was a tyre swing attached to it. My dad built it for me. And grandpa almost had a heart attack because the tree is supposed to be sacred.”

The fresh memory came rushing back, of a lovely girl, her sleeping cat and a tyre swing.

“He sounds like a good man.” InuYasha let it out, mentally kicking himself at the same time. Don’t bring up her father, remembered his inner voice, a second too late. Damn it, he thought, I was doing so well. But they were alone. And Kagome was the one to raise the subject.

“The best.” She agreed, the longing painfully distinguishable in her timbre. “The colors are his fault, actually. He let me pick them and insisted I’d help him painting, saying it was my room and therefore I should be an active part of its making in order to truly look my own. I felt like such a grown up, with that brush in my hand! It wasn’t until years later I realized he had done most of the heavy work, of course. My enthusiasm about the colors decreased with time, I gotta admit. But I never wanted to change it, because whenever I see them, I’m taken back to that day.”

InuYasha was at a loss for words.

In one night, Kagome had shared more about her father than she had in their entire relationship, the topic always a delicate one.

To measure her pain, he tried to imagine what would be like. His life without Toga Taisho in every step of the way, with his goofy jokes and thunderous laughter, teaching him how to shave, talking about girls, buying him his first pair of boxing gloves. Cheering him on. Most fathers wouldn’t be as supportive of his career choice. Especially when it meant stepping down from the family empire.

Unthinkable.

InuYasha couldn’t even began to understand.

Unexpectedly, he was assaulted by the crushing need to hug his old man.

“He’d be proud of ya. You know that, right?”

“I do.” Kagome sighed. She was at the verge of crying, he could tell. “I wish he had met you.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“So...” Kagome bravely pushed her sorrow underneath, recovering the cheerful temper that was so typical of her. “Did you find anything good in that photo album?”

“Oh, yeah!” InuYasha nodded, taking her unsaid ask for distraction for what it was. “Miroku won’t hear the end of it.” She laughed and he relaxed at the sound. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. Your grandfather is getting distraught.”

“How did you do that?” Sota watched the TV screen in awe as their characters fought. InuYasha had just released a powerful blow, inflecting several damage on his opponent.

“Left-Right-B-B.”

Sota pressed the combination and as soon as he did, his character recreated the attack, hitting InuYasha back full force. The kid learned fast.

“Sweet! You gotta teach me more of this stuff! Can I come over to your place sometime?”

“Sure!” He answered, in autopilot. Kagome quietly pinched him in the tigh and the half demon realized his mistake. Don’t mention we live together. What an idiot he was. InuYasha wouldn’t have to mention anything if her brother saw it with his own eyes. “I-I mean, if that’s cool with your mom. It ain’t a quick drive.”

“For real?!”

“Yeah, just… Text me first.”

“You got it!”

InuYasha shrugged apologetically to his frustrated girlfriend. It was the best he could do.

“Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi swiftly called from the kitchen. “Can you help me with the desserts, please?”

“Coming!”

Involuntarily, his ears twitched to follow her trail of noises. Steps. Crockery getting handled. Whispers.

“Alright: your honest opinion. Go!”

“Oh, I think your opinion is the one that counts.”

“It’s the one that counts the most. It’s not the only one that counts.”

“In that case, I must say you make a lovely couple. InuYasha caused an excellent impression on me. The way he looks at you… Your father used to look at me just like that.”

“Mama!”

There was a pause.

Out of habit, InuYasha kept hitting the right buttons, but his interest was far away from the game.

“Now, what else are you wanting to tell me?”

“How did you know?”

“A mother always does. What is it?”

“InuYasha and I… We’re living together.”

“I had my suspicions.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Are you happy?”

“The happiest.”

“Well, then. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Thank you! I love you so much!”

“I love you too, honey. But it might be wise not to let your grandfather know for now.”

“I figured as much.”

“One more thing.”

“Shoot!”

“Are the two of you using protection?”

“Mom!”

“What? It’s a fair concern.”

InuYasha had darkened multiple shades of embarrassment, all of them red. Sota took advantage of his temporary stupefied state to deliver the final blast, settling their score.

“Yes!”

“I totally let you win.”

“You wish!”

The two women walked into the room, dessert glasses on their hands. Sota accepted the one his mother offered him while Kagome sat on her previous spot by InuYasha.

“This candy is a family recipe.” Mrs. Higurashi explained. “It’s also the reason why we didn’t order a dessert at the restaurant.”

InuYasha hadn’t complained. In terms of food, sugary snacks were hardly his favorites. He opened his mouth, planning to decline the treat in way that wasn’t too rude, but his girlfriend beat him to the punch and sticked a spoon full of the stuff inside his mouth. The flavor outburst on his tongue was unprecedented, caramel being the base of it. The kickoff was undeniably sweet, pursued by a salty ending that assured a refined balance.

“Holy f… ork.” Don’t swear. At least this time he managed to caught himself before the failure.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Said Mrs. Higurashi, as InuYasha grabbed his portion from Kagome’s grasp and ate the whole thing in eager spoonfuls.

“How come you never made me one of those?” He threw Kagome an accusatory glance.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think our relationship is that solid yet.”

InuYasha was formulating a sly remark when he heard her grandfather struggling to carry a heavy wood box.

“Sir, wanna some help?” He volunteered, already jumping to the rescue.

“I’m old, not invalid.”

“It wasn’t my intention to suges—”

“Grandpa, please don’t be dramatic.” Intervened Kagome. “We don’t want a broken hip, do we?”

Grudgingly, the elder turned his burden over to InuYasha, who followed him out into the storehouse. He was serenaded by the crickets and the constant instructions of the wrinkle bag, urging him to be careful.

“Where do you want this, sir?”

“There.” He pointed to the left corner of the room and InuYasha accomplished the task without breaking a sweat. Or a priceless relic. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” The temptation to spin on his heels and exit the building was tremendous. For Kagome, though, he had to make an effort. “I guess is safe to say you don’t like me or my tattoos very much. That’s alright, I get it. You just met me. But I promise you, sir, I would never, ever, do anything to hurt your granddaughter. I’m a hundred percent committed to Kagome. In fact…” InuYasha fished the ring off his back pocket and presented it to him. “I intend to propose to her in a near future. You don’t have to answer right now, just know it would mean a lot to her… To us, if you could give us your blessing.”

The man glared at the ring as if it was a viper ready to strike.

“I wasn’t aware this relationship of yours was that serious.”

“Well… It kinda is. I… I love her.”

InuYasha felt naked, so very naked, under the somber gaze of that man. However true his words were, he wasn’t the type to pour his heart out, let alone to someone he had met for less than the duration of a night. Vulnerability was something to be avoided. Let your guard open, you get knocked down. A lifetime of boxing will teach you that. Still, Kagome was worth way more than his stupid pride.

“I see. In that case, you must end it at once.”

“What?”

“I held my peace because I was convinced, the moment my granddaughter introduced you as her boyfriend, that this was bound to break. Do not take it personally. I can’t possibly be the first one to point it out and chances are I won’t be the last. You are far from the man I imagined her future husband to be. Yet here you are, speaking of marriage. It is up to me, then, to open your eyes and remind you the implications of it.”

“The implications of it.” The hanyou half repeated, half questioned. The superior tone in which the man expressed himself was enerving and the fact InuYasha had no idea of where he was trying to get only worsened the tension.

“Your mother is human, is she not?” All of the pieces fell into place right then. He would rather they hadn’t.

“Yes, she is.”

“Then you better than anyone must know of the hardships she had to endure as a result of her lifestyle.”

InuYasha was numb. Completely anesthetized. It was to be expected his stupor would soft the pain of the bad memories. It didn’t.

Romeo and Juliet got nothing on his parents. His mom had told him the story time and time again. They had met each other on a tropical storm. Her car died and of course he was there to help. She kept his coat. He kept her phone number on a piece of paper that accidentally was ruined by the rain. When their paths crossed again, he was a divorced father and she was engaged. They managed to get it right anyway. Timing was a comical thing. It never worked with rationality.

Both families were against it. Strongly against it. His mother was no longer welcomed in the house. They had burned to the ground any evidence she once belonged to that place. The only thing she took with her was the ring of her deceased mother that InuYasha now held inside his clenched fist. She wasn’t allowed in the Taisho mansion either, but it just meant his father wouldn’t set foot feet there as well.

There were grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins InuYasha didn’t have the chance to met. Because they didn’t want to. Other than from Sesshoumaru and his mom, that was it for him in the family section.

He used to resent it. When he caught a homesick Izayoi crying. When his father yelled at the management of some restaurant about their anti-human politics. When she was denied entrance because InuYasha was in her arms. When the family tree of the other kids in school was so much more complex than his. Fortunately, he came to terms with it. Family had little to do with blood.

“It wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t your father’s, either.” InuYasha heard him go on. “Regardless, this is the way things are. The way things have always been. And pretending otherwise is to believe in fairytales. You can not blame me for wishing a better fate upon Kagome.”

“Kagome is happy. I know she is!”

“For now. What would be of this so called happiness in the long run? Keep in mind Kagome is a priestess. What if this union causes her to lose her spiritual powers? Even if she doesn’t, a child born out of it would carry demon genes. It can not be avoided. It can affect their reiki greatly.”

“W-we haven’t talk—”

Kids. The subject was never discussed between them. It was not a secret Kagome wanted to have children. She should have children. Motherhood suited her. InuYasha, on the other hand, didn’t give the topic a lot of thought. He just accepted that, taking in consideration the lengths he was willing to go to make her happy, babies weren’t even that bad.

Now, his treacherous brain was plaguing him with the forbidden images. Another aged, tawny leather photo album, theirs to fulfill with pictures of a raven haired, golden eyed toddler. Kagome, pregnant with his child. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.

“Listen close, boy. I take no pride in that, but when cancer took my son away… It tore this home apart. Kagome? She was the one to put it back together. It was an unfair burden, for someone so young to take. And it meant countless sacrifices from her part. My granddaughter had to grow up too fast too soon. She deserves the luck of an ease love. You seem like a decent man, tattoos aside. That is why, if you love Kagome the way you claim to do, you will let her go.”

“InuYasha!”

“Huh?”

“I’m talking to you!”

“I’m driving!” Even to himself, the excuse sounded weak. For fear Kagome would pick up on his bullshit, he opted for diplomacy. “Can you repeat what it was?”

“My family! Did you like them?”

“Yeah, they’re great.”

She could sniff it out his lies from miles away, one of her many infuriating talents. It was a good thing InuYasha wasn’t lying, then. Her mom and brother had won him over without even trying. Her grandfather was difficult, to say the least. But ultimately, he only had Kagome’s best interests at heart. How could InuYasha not hold someone like that in deep appreciation? They shared the same priorities, after all.

“I’m glad.” Kagome sticked a palm out of the window, to cut the chill night air. Not even that diverted his concentration from the road ahead, hands sweating at the tigh grip on the steering wheel. They let the silence set, until her profound exhale disturbed it. “Do you miss your motorbike?”

Before Kagome, a classic black Harley used to be the love of his life. He had saved every penny he ever gotten in order to get it. It was the first significant thing he had ever bought with his own money. Sadly, the maintenance was pretty expensive and by the time they started going on double dates with Miroku and Sango or Koga and Ayame, an average car proved to be the obvious, more practical choice. It had its advantages. Convenience. Economy. Illegal activities on the backseat. His mother was radiant, too. She had somehow convinced herself owning a motorcycle was a creative way of signing his own death certificate.

He didn’t regret it.

But he couldn’t chase the wind in a car. Kagome wouldn’t hold him for dear life in a car.

“Sometimes.”

“Me too. Maybe we can afford to buy it back, someday.” His stomach sank. There would be no ‘someday’. Not for them. “InuYasha?”

“Maybe.”

He turned the radio on and neither of them talked the whole way home.

Water was pouring down, warm and nice against his skin. InuYasha stood under the shower far more than the necessary. His hope was that if he stalled long enough, Kagome would be sleeping by the time he left the bathroom. It was an act of pure cowardice, but it was for the best. If she was awake, he would be tempted to take her one last time, and what kind of monster he’d be by the morning, when they would have to say goodbye?

Kagome was sitting on their bed, waiting for him with his AC/DC shirt on. InuYasha should have anticipated she wouldn’t be entirely oblivious to his internal turmoil. He hadn’t done the neatest job hiding it and she knew him like no one else.

“Alright, what is wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Just who do you think you’re kidding?”

“Can we please do this tomorrow?”

“No! You’ve been acting strange since we left. I tried to give you space, but I won’t be able to sleep unless you put my mind at ease.”

From all the scenarios he had ran on his head of how this conversation would go, this was without a doubt the worst one. He didn’t want to end their relationship in the middle of the night, dressed only on his sweatpants, risking her to storm off that late. He owed Kagome more than that. Massaging his temple, InuYasha realized his hands were tied. She wouldn’t let it die. He sat by her side and ripped off the band-aid.

“We should break up.”

Her reaction to the news was a mystery InuYasha wasn’t dying to find out. She could cry, she used to do it for less and his ego would appreciate it. She could scream at him, it was totally understandable. She could slap his face, he probably deserved it. She could leave. He wouldn’t blame her.

“No.” Plain and simple.

Whatever he expected her to do, that wasn’t it.

“No?”

“That’s right.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“We’re breaking up!”

“No, we’re not. Are you in love with someone else?”

“Well... No.”

“Have you stopped loving me?”

“That’s… That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m bad for you, Kagome! Can’t you see that?” His ferocity made her quiver and cursing himself, InuYasha counted two heavy breaths to try and tone it down. “Can’t you see everything you’ll miss out just to be by my side? I can’t do that to you. I won’t. What we have… It can be easy here, but in the real world...”

“Did my grandfather put you up to this?”

His startle gave him away. It was pointless to deny.

“He only said what we already knew and were too stubborn to accept.”

“How dare he?!”

“He’s right, y’know? This is the best thing for you.”

“How dare you?” She poked his naked chest, her fury unleashed like InuYasha hadn’t seen in a while. “Who are you to make this decision for me?”

“I’m someone who saw his mother be casted out and humiliated on a daily basis over it!”

“Have you ever asked her if she would do it again? Because I’m pretty sure I know the answer. And mine is the same.”

“What about children? You wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not they would inherit your spiritual powers if you had ‘em with a human.”

“I don’t care about the stupid bloodline tradition! It’s not like demons and humans are at war anymore. Any child we might have will be loved, powers or not powers. I refuse to let outdated morals dictate how I live my life, I refuse to let them get in the way of my happiness. And I can’t believe after everything we’ve been through you would give up of me that easy.”

“Easy?” InuYasha hissed. Kagome didn’t back down one bit at his rompant. “You think this is easy for me? This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do and if it’s possible you’re making it even harder. For once in my life I’m being selfless. For once in my life I’m putting someone else first. Because I fucking love you!”

Finally, finally, her lips crushed into his. It was a long time coming, as if every single event since he had seen her in that blue dress earlier were building up to that moment. He welcomed her touch like was second nature, greedly pulling her close to devour her lips. The taste of mint toothpaste flooded his senses and suddenly the whole universe shrunk to the shape her mouth. Her slow hands went from his cheeks to his wet hair, tangling on the messy strands and inducing the nape ones to rise up.

Only then InuYasha understood.

He was fooling himself.

Selfish. His love for her always was and always would be selfish. He could try to stay away, he could try to shut her out. In the end of the day, all she had to do was snap her fingers and he would be running to her. There was no escaping it. She wanted him, he was hers.

Little by little, InuYasha broke the kiss, their foreheads still connected as their hearts restored their normal pace.

“I don’t want to make things difficult between you and your family.”

“I’m sorry about tonight, InuYasha. I was so excited with the idea of you and my family getting along, I forgot to be more careful and pushed it too far with grandpa. Let’s give it time, okay? He’ll come around. If he doesn’t, you are not the one making things difficult. He is. People tend to be afraid of what they don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It’s not theirs to know, it’s ours. And we shouldn’t allow their opinions to interfere. No prejudiced beliefs can take me from your side. As long as you want me, there are no deal breakers. So what do you truly want?”

“What I truly want…” He got up and went to their wardrobe, reaching the depths of the drawer where he kept his jeans for the hidden ring. He found it and fell into one knee in front of her. “It’s to spend the rest of my life with you.” She gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth as her eyes overflowed. “This might be crazy soon, but it has also been a crazy night. Kagome, will you—”

“Yes!”

She knocked him down in a hug that turned into another kiss, tender than the prior. They had time to pleasantries now. They had all the time in the world. InuYasha wanted to laugh at the expense of his unplanned rebellion. There he was, making the exact opposite thing her grandfather had ordered him to do. And he was still a bit unaware as to how.

“Will ya let me put this thing on your finger or what?” He questioned when she pulled away.

“In one condition.”

“Which one?”

“Don’t you ever break up with me again.”

“It won’t be a problem.”

A/N: this is for the brilliant @dyaz-stories who requested “The stakes are high. Tthe water's rough. But this love is ours” + “And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored. Cause my heart is yours” for the lyric game.

I hope you don’t mind the “my father” to “my grandfather”change, but I thought it was more fitting, given the circumstances. Sorry I made you the bad guy, grandpa, but someone had to be! Also, I know the lyrics say that the snide remarks about the tattoos would be ignored, but no matter how hard I tried to stand by it, Kagome refused to be silenced.

About the tattoos: I’ve read somewhere cherry blossoms mean female beauty, love, happiness, renovation and hope. They symbolize the end of winter and beginning of spring… which is pretty much everything Kagome represents to InuYasha.

That being said, happy Inukag Week! Yes, I do celebrate it as if it was a hollyday. No, I do not think I’m obsessed. I like this couple a normal amount. And this fanfic just happens to fit the prompt “acceptance” from day one, so here you go @inukag-week

#Inukag Week #Ours #Inukag Fanfiction #InuYasha #My Writing #Inukag Fluff #InuKag Angst #Sid Writes #Inukag Oneshot #Kagome Higurashi #Modern AU

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cowboylikedean · 4 years ago

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folklermore spn finale: the last great american dynasty

Okay so this post took forever to write for a couple reasons.

First of all, this one is special in that it has two readings for my grief.

The first one is terrible and heartbreaking and honestly I don’t want to spend a lot of time on it. I see Andrew Dabb as THE great villain of Supernatural, and he truly had a marvelous time ruining everything. The sarcastic nature of the song goes in to speak to the fact that I feel legitimately crazy for how much I blame him. It’s sad and heartbreaking. I think about it sometimes when i hear this song and instantly force myself to stop thinking about it and go back to the other view.

So the other view is more what you might expect with the vibe of the song... but it is SO HARD for me to put into words, I found. So I’m sorry if this is messy and disjointed and all over the place.

I spoke in cardigan’s post about how I’m not the fan the show wanted and there’s a large part of the narrative in the folkermore-spn-finale feelings for me that expresses not being the fan the narrative wanted or needed.... Most of the time this is brought up in this, it’s angry, or sad, or whatever... but this time... this time it celebrates it.

I had a marvelous time ruining everything.

Putting this under a cut because it’s very long. I didn’t mean for this to get this long rip.

I let myself sink into the feelings of wonder and awe I felt when I first fell in love with the show and then let myself find the conclusion that IF I did in fact “ruin everything” (aka the show) by not being the fan the show needed me to be to enjoy it, at least I had a good fucking time!

From that first bit where Taylor sings that Rebekah’s salt box house took her mind of St. Louis.... Supernatural took my mind off my life too. I remember when I first watched the show, I was 20 and I’d just failed out of school (the first time). I was lying to my mother and her husband (who I lived with) about going to school. I rode the city bus at the time because I didn’t have my license yet. I’d leave the house and say I was going to the bus stop down the street. Instead, I hid in the woods that separated my neighborhood from my grandfather’s back yard. I worked at his house “after school” every day from 4-6, taking care of his house, doing light cleaning and cooking, helping him adjust to being a double amputee so it worked out nice. Every night I pre-loaded 5 hours of episodes on my computer so I didn’t need the internet and every day I would sit in the cold on a log and put my computer on a slightly bigger log and curl up in my warm coat for a day of Supernatural before heading inside to Pappou’s house at 4. Sometimes, I just waited until the afternoon when I knew my mom would be gone and I could go home where it was warm and I had wifi. Sometimes though I got wrapped up and I just stayed there.. all day.

Supernatural is, what I would consider, one of the last great american TV shows. Like... It’s right there with Grey’s Anatomy as the last TV shows that have an actual following where people watch it and it’s a thing that haven’t been corrupted by the streaming world. Television is so important to me, it’s my favorite medium of storytelling and it’s been lost. Streaming destroyed it. People say we’re living in a “golden age” because there’s “so much good TV” but there’s NOT! What we have is high production quality on a lot of mini-series and long-format movies that have been randomly split up into “episodes” but don’t make sense if you space them out in any way. The episodic serial format of television has been LOST and that’s heartbreaking...

But to me... this song... it’s about The Last Great American TV Show, The Last Great American Fandom, The Last Great American Dynasty over my life, my fandom, my relationship with tv, and my world view.

The line “How did a middle class divorcee do it?” also just... First of all there’s something so distinctly American about it... We all know Supernatural is itself a sort of lover letter to Americana... it’s the aesthetic of Nowhere USA which is part of what makes it so effective and heartbreaking. The line in the song is about how Rebekah was just... boring, average, a little sad. Someone unremarkable you feel a little pity for. That’s the Nowhere USA of the aesthetic of the show... THAT’S the heartbeat of “Americana.” It’s boring, average, unremarkable, a little sad, you kinda pity it, it shouldn’t be that deep, but it is. It’s when the unremarkable accomplishes the remarkable. And that’s the whole myth they fed us as kids, isn’t it? I could never explain the beauty of this line inside or outside the context of Supernatural to someone who isn’t US American so I’ll just stop trying... but it’s just kljasfkd

Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is that first stanza in the first verse... When I fell in love with Supernatural, I was boring unremarkable, a little sad... and the show was a wealth of possibilities... but also I was at a point where I was getting over the main fandom I’d had for the past year and a half (Buffy) and I had just fallen in love with Sherlock and I had nothing but time. I wasn’t bogged down with the anxiety of school, I got to devote my whole life and existence to this show. I was also a wealth of possibilities, and as we know the show was also boring, average, unremarkable, and a little sad. Both me and the show were Bill and both me and the show were Rebekah.

So when the wedding between me and the show was charming, if a little gauche it made sense cause there’s only so far new money goes. For me, this represents 2012-Mishapocalpyse: The Golden Age... Look... It’s no secret 2012 was my favorite year of all time... Tumblr was small and fun and hadn’t been corrupted by wanting or trying to be “cool” or “edgy” or “interesting.” I chose the mishapocalypse for the end of this era to me because that was the last time I felt like I could come on tumblr and really just LET GO into insanity. Almost instantly people were shit talking it as if it was not the single most fun 24 hours this website had ever had. In 2013, we saw the rise of YFIP and people trying so hard to “””prove””” they were “”””cool”””” unlike ~those~ tumblr people!!! It was pathetic. But in 2012, we just... had fun. And it was charming, if a little out there. But there really is only so far that the youthful innocence of an online community that’s new goes.

But I picked out a home on tumblr. And our parties were tasteful if a little loud. Tumblr in 2012/2013 was..... Fun. From mapcrunch to the mishapocalpyse. Some would argue about taste, but I’d say... “if a little loud.” I really just can’t separate the fun I had on tumblr back then from spn and I can’t separate spn from the fun I had back then.

But then of course, we all need to settle down some times because the fun doesn’t last forever. In this line, I hear myself in both Bill and Rebekah and I hear the show in both Bill and Rebekah. Both of our hearts gave out and the other way to blame.

So then the chorus... “who knows if she never showed up what could have been?” I CHANGED because of the show, I don’t know who the hell I’d BE without it! And likewise, I don’t think *I* personally changed the actual show, but the show WAS changed by each one of us. The show itself is folklore, changed and shaped in each retelling. There’s a creative freedom to the chorus that lives in that love.

So then there’s the second verse. After the rose colored glasses came off, Rebekah gave up on the Rhode Island set forever and I gave up on the greater spn fandom forever. I dropped the hellers and joined the tight knit Dean stans. This verse is about living in spite. It’s that wild American rebellion mixed with a little bit of sensual romanticism. In season 9, it was us against the world. And the reality is we were angrier than this verse gives and less free and fun... but looking back, it felt like A Time. I don’t know how to put it into words really but it was like... We found ways (and continue to find ways) to celebrate Dean when we weren’t supposed to. Fuck everyone else Dean is perfect.

And then in the second verse, we celebrate that rebellion. The change from “the maddest woman” to “the most shameless woman” in the chorus is so important here... In the first chorus, Rebekah and I were mad and crazy and wild. In the second chorus, we had no shame. We lived IN SPITE of the state of the world around us and fucked anyone who had anything to say about it.

In the first chorus, “who knows if she never showed up what could have been” paired with “maddest” has this creative potential. Like who knows who I would have been without spn and who knows what the show would have been without us, the fandom. And in the second chorus, that line changes to this destructive force. Like the show and I were both shameless to just exist, you know? because we would have been better without each other... but even as it acknowledges that, it’s still... sweet.

So then we have the time I left the fandom. Here we only hear bits and pieces of Rebekah’s life and Rebekah’s time in Holiday House. She was only seen “on occasion.” And on occasion, you could find me reblogging some Dean stan posts, getting into spats with Sam stans, posting about how the writers suck, calling out a heller. But 7 years is a long time and my fandom sat quietly in the history of my blog... And then it was picked up by me.

Rebekah, in the song, refers to my past. My previous relationship with the show. Taylor’s part refers to my current relationship with the show.

Who knows if I never showed up what could have been? If I never came back, what would my life look like? It would have been healthier, I’m sure. But then again - I needed this. And if the show hadn’t came back who would I be?

But there goes the loudest non-woman this fandom has ever seen. I will scream from the ROOFTOPS! and what I want to scream is EVERYTHING from the past but with my full grown adult context. I know now more than I knew then that I had a MARVELOUS TIME ~ruining everything~!!! And I get to CELEBRATE THAT! I get to let go and have fun. I get to sit and think of Nov 5 and how that night, I relived those parties that were tasteful if a little loud. And then every day since I relived flying in the Bitch Pack friends from the city. I get to CELBRATE!

I may not have been the fan the show wanted. I may have fucked shit up. I may have lived in spite of this show even when I lived because of it. But damn I had a marvelous FUCKING TIME Ruining. Everything. Everything this show built it wanted me to see and love and appreciate with these toxic fucking relationships and the destruction of Dean Winchester can KISS MY ASS cause I had a MARVELOUS time fucking that shit up. Everything this show wanted from me that I refused to give it. Every SPEC of growth and learning and fun and enjoyment I have had from this show.... was toxic. It ruined it. Because it was not the growth and learning and fun and enjoyment the show WANTED ME TO HAVE. But damn did I have fun.

The show and I are the last great American dynasty full of rebellion and spite and damn is it fun.

#tlgad #taylor analysis #putting this in that tag because i mean #folklermore spn finale #personal #i SPENT FOREVER on this #god i'm so glad i got this out #but i don't know if it will make sense to anyone but me #tlgad spn finale

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

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Loveless – Part 4

Request: I am a 100% Dean girl but sometimes I want to be sad over Sammy. Can you do a request with you and Sam. You are together but he messes up and you catch him with Ruby..... you take it from there. Mostly angst with maybe a little fluff.

I decided they are not a pair…so far. I want to write at least three parts and I want it to be angstier…

Summary: Addicted to demon blood Sam takes one step too far…

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean Winchester

Warnings: angst, virgin reader, age gap, talk about addiction, fluff

Loveless Masterlist

“Do you think we can kill Lilith, Dean? I mean she’s so powerful, and we didn’t find anything in the lore so far. Even Castiel doesn’t have a clue how to kill her.” Slamming another book shut you rub your sore eyes.

“You should rest a bit, Y/N. The last four weeks were long and exhausting. Hunting monsters, Lilith and keeping an eye on Sam took a toll on all of us. Let me check on my brother and you can have a shower and sleep.”

“Dean, you were on ‘Sam duty’ for over a week. You need sleep too, big guy. Let me watch him and you can have a rest this time. I can handle this…” Glancing at Dean you see the uncertainty in those green orbs.

“Y/N, I know you are tired. I’m fit as ever. Let me do this.” Dean is like a big brother to you, family and your best friend for ages so you easily can see through his lie and take his hand in yours, kissing it softly.

“Dean, I know when you lie, okay. You are afraid Sam could hurt me again and I appreciate your worry but…” Opening your jacket you show Dean your gun and a knife. “I’m prepared this time. He can’t use his powers either.”

“Sweetheart, I never doubted you can handle Sammy but…” Sighing Dean shrugs.

“I don’t know if he’s clean or if he just waits for the next opportunity to get high on that shit again. He tasted power and this makes your best intentions anyone else’s nightmare.”

“Power…”

“It was the same with me, Y/N. In hell, the moment I gave in and could give pain instead of receiving it, I felt powerful. Like a god and to my shame I must admit, I liked it to a certain point.”

Ashamed Dean looks at his hands and you wrap your arm around his neck, holding him tightly.

“Dean, you are the best man I know. No one else would’ve resisted that long. I never…I…” Sniffling you peck his cheek.

“You are stronger than anyone, Dean. I’m proud to call you my friend. You did what you had to do. All souls in hell are there due to a deal or as they were evil…”

“You sure about that? I mean we met people who sold their souls to save someone, just like me. Not all people making a deal wanted money or fame. Some were good people, desperately trying to find a way to rescue a loved one.”

Dean's words make you realize how much pain he must’ve hidden over the last months.

“I know you believe you do not deserve a second chance, but you do. I can tell you without a doubt that you are a good man. Whatever you did down there, you did it to survive and come back to us to save me.”

Pecking Dean’s cheek, you smile as he nods, giving you a cracked smile in response.

“You make me sound like a hero or crap.” Laughing Dean nervously slides his fingers through his hair.

“Be careful while watching Sam, Y/N. If he acts odd or is nervous, call me and I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Yes, Sir…”

Saluting you give Dean a wink before you walk toward the room Bobby offered to Sam.

You are still uncomfortable around Sam from time to time, but you hope, or rather pray he will stay clean for Dean and your sake, and the sake of Sam’s soul.

----

“Sam duty for you tonight?” Watching you walk into the room Sam forces a smile on his face. He knows you and Dean keep an eye on him, afraid he could relapse and drink demon blood once again.

“Dean needs some sleep and I suggested to spend some time with you. I thought this would be a good opportunity to tell me why you left all of us behind to run off with a demon making you addicted to her blood.”

Sam nervously chews on his lower lips, not wanting to say anything wrong.

“I thought…I mean…” Getting up Sam gestures wildly with his hands as he tries to explain why he left you and Bobby behind after Dean’s death.

“I needed time on my own. Back then I thought it was for the best to hunt Lilith down, have my revenge and keep you and Bobby out of this nightmare. I didn’t want to lose one of you too.”

Stopping in front of you Sam gently tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling as you shiver at his touch.

“We could’ve helped you, Sam. There was no reason for you to cut us out of your life to meet up with that monster. She threatened me to stay away from you. Whatever she promised, Sam – Ruby lied to you through her teeth…”

There’s still hurting in your voice as you remember the demon on top of the man you love.

“She came for me, Y/N. I didn’t look for her, nor did I want her help. But she saved my life and things happened…” Sam’s voice trembles as he can see the hurting in your eyes.

“No reason to let her…” Shuddering you step away, shaking your head. “You lead this dead and rotten thing touch you, Sam. That’s disgusting for sure.”

Sitting onto the cheap sideboard, long legs stretched out Sam looks at his hands, not able to find the words to explain how he could fall for Ruby. Sam is ashamed, not daring to look at you for what feels like ages.

“I…I was lonely and had the feeling no one would understand what happens to me. Those powers scared me, and I feared I’ll end like the other ‘special' kids. Ruby gave me the feeling it’s not a bad thing I have those powers inside of me. I thought I can make the best of this horrible gift Azazel gave me.”

“You could have talked to me, Sam!” Jumping up you slap your friend’s cheek, glaring at the tall hunter while you pant heavily.

“I never once judged you, Sammy. Even when Dean was afraid you could do the wrong thing I told you that I believe in you. How could you believe I would let you down? Bobby was always on your side too.”

Rubbing your tired eyes, you feel Sam wrap his arms around your smaller frame and you stiffen in his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. For leaving you alone, and for not telling you about my plans. Most of all I’m sorry for hurting you, for causing a rift between us.”

Pressing his lips to your forehead Sam tries to make you see he’s not the man from that night.

“I’ll never hurt you again or lie to you or Dean.”

“Dean didn’t deserve this, Sammy. He sacrificed his life, his soul for you.” Sniffling you hide your face in Sam’s chest.

“All the thing they did to him, Sam. How could you touch her knowing Dean got tortured for centuries in hell by demons? How can you work with a demon after one killed your mom, your dad, and Dean?” Sam’s throat is dry when he tries to answer your questions.

“I don’t know, Y/N. All I can say to defend my behavior is that I wanted to kill the demon murdering my brother and dragging him to hell. Ruby just…she…I don’t know why I let her touch me, let her seduce me to…” Rubbing his hands over your back Sam stops talking.

“Did you like it and is she what you want?” Looking up at Sam you blink the tears away. “I mean her vessel is pretty and all…”

“No one is more beautiful to me than you…” While you lean into Sam’s touch, forgetting the fear and hurting for a moment Ruby watches the scene with a smirk on her lips.

“Game is on, I guess. We just have to wait for the unavoidable to happen and we have the best leverage we can wish for…”

Smirking the demon walks away, knowing Sam will do as she says soon enough…

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld, @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katpatrova17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow , @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13, @thevelvetseries

Loveless Tags

@delicatefirespyplaid, @takemebillyhargrove, @trumpettay, @ardnassela19, @terrible-terrible-blog, @blablatiti

#spn #spn fanfiction #Loveless Masterlist #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam x you #sam winchester series #angst #request fill

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sonofsallyjackson · 5 years ago

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A World Not Quite Her Own (pt 1/3) - The Estelle Fic

So here it is, my first foray into the Percy Jackson fandom despite being obsessed with the books when I was in elementary/middle school. This started as my take on Estelle’s childhood, but morphed into something more with a Percabeth wedding scene in chapter 2. AO3 Link Here.

Estelle Blofis had never lived in a world without monsters. Many people in this world would have been driven mad by this knowledge. But for Estelle, it was a simple fact of the universe like humans need air to survive, or blue chocolate chip cookies are the best dessert. Maybe knowing about monsters should have made her scared, but all it did was show her the heroes who would always come in and save the day.

Many of those heroes made the best babysitters.

Sally always let out a sigh of relief when Grover was in town. The Lord of the Wild didn’t even grumble good-naturedly as he took on his excitable charge for the day. Grover didn’t need the promise of Sally’s seven-layer bean dip or the collection of recycling curated for maximum crunch to make it through their outings. He had always wanted to teach humans to appreciate the wild, treasure it, and protect it. Grover might not be able to teach all humans, but he certainly could teach Estelle. They sat in an isolated corner of Central Park together, occasionally bothered by druids, but mostly it was just the two of them. They would sit directly in the grass, Estelle’s orange tutu and rainboots regardless of the weather stretched out next to hairy legs that Grover mostly didn’t bother to cover anymore. While Estelle likely fidgeted just as much as she listened (spinning breaks were deemed a necessity after a single outing), she did listen to him. Grover was the best at answering questions and like any small child, Estelle had a lot of questions. So as she grew, Estelle sang hi to the individual trees on walks with her parents and proclaimed solemnly in pre-school that “Pan was dead” (a reference that thankfully her teacher didn’t understand but had resulted in a headache-inducing conversation for Paul).

In comparison, babysitting with Rachel was essentially one long arts and crafts session. Finger paintings completely covered the fridge by the time Estelle was three. They’d repainted the mural on Estelle’s bedroom wall about four times by the time she was ten, with each rendition more fantastical than the last. Occasionally Sally regretted the afternoons spent writing with Rachel over once she discovered the paint covered mess that once had been her daughter, but overall with the sound of laughter echoing through the house (and only one minor prophecy), she supposed things could be a lot worse.

On days where snow piled up outside their window, but Estelle adamantly refused to wear anything but a swimsuit and a feather boa, Paul frantically phoned Piper. She was at the top of a very short list of people who could make Estelle dress appropriately for the weather. No one was sure if it was a form of diluted charmspeak or just Piper’s knack for finding outfits that technically could be worn in public but still fit the (unfashionable) vibe Estelle was going for.

Tyson was never allowed to babysit Estelle by himself, but he made up for his clumsiness and general lack of knowledge of human safety measures with an excess of enthusiasm. He took to having a baby sister so well that no one really bothered to explain that technically the two of them weren’t related. Still Tyson’s one eye seemed just as normal to Estelle as his hugs or extremely calloused hands.

Nico really wasn’t her babysitter. He would stop by the apartment looking for Percy or Sally, but would end up staying because Estelle had him wrapped around her finger. The first time they’d met Nico had come over with bad news regarding Apollo’s quest. Estelle couldn’t actually remember what had happened since she was so young, but Sally liked telling the story, complete with pictures, so Estelle knew it by heart anyway. Percy hadn’t been home yet and since he was with mortals working on a group project, Iris messages would have been a no-go even if the cosmos weren’t trying to prevent demi-god communication. So Nico had sat on the couch in the living room occasionally pestered by Sally’s “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?” and “You look tired, sweetheart. You have time for a nap if you want one.”

In the end, Nico hadn’t gotten that nap because he’d been greeted by tiny hands pulling themselves upright on the couch cushion next to him. Estelle’s face had been alight with mischief that Nico would have previously sworn was only possible from a child of Hermes. Her black curls swung wildly around her as she wiggled her way onto the couch and into Nico’s lap. Estelle made herself comfortable while Nico looked ready to throw up. At fourteen, he’d fought in two different wars, but one crawling 10-month-old seemed to be enough to break him. As Estelle grew older, her little chants of “Nico! Nico! Nico!” had so much power over the boy who wanted a family more than anything else in the world.

Annabeth was one of her most frequent babysitters. She practically lived at their apartment when she wasn’t at school, or helping her cousins or the camp. She did keep Percy from giving into Estelle’s every whim which wasn’t ideal, but Estelle could deal with eating a full plate of vegetables if it meant hanging out with Annabeth. Unfortunately, Annabeth did not share Estelle’s undying love for all things Little Mermaid and often muttered “Seaweed Brain, I don’t know how but this is your fault. If I have to hear Under the Sea one more time, I’ll-“ under her breath whenever just watching Disney movies was suggested. So spending time with Annabeth often meant playing with Legos, creating a disjointed collection of buildings. Mini replicas of New York landmarks would be dwarfed by uneven towers because Estelle cared more about height than stability, aesthetics or really any other architectural principle. When Annabeth entered school, she was less inclined to spend any bit of free time still thinking about architecture. So she gave Estelle a little potholder loom and taught her the basics of weaving. Sally had ended up with more neon-colored monstrosities than she knew what to do with, but the girls could spend hours in relative quiet, so it seemed a small price to pay.

And then there was Percy, the biggest hero in Estelle’s eyes. Her love wasn’t like the hero-worship of new demigods, who idolized him for defeating the Titans, surviving Tartarus, or going on countless quests. Estelle believed more than anything else in the world that her brother would be there to catch her whenever she fell and there was no monster he couldn’t beat.

Even before she could walk, Estelle had seen her brother’s powers. Some things were easy to miss, like the way Percy could wash the dishes without getting wet at all, but others stood out to her. The waves at Montauk had calmed so he could teach her how to swim but were quick to come back to life if anyone stared too openly at Annabeth or his mom. While Annabeth built elaborate sandcastles, Percy added fantastical moats and laughed as Estelle roared like a minotaur to tear it down. He could hold his breath forever, which seemed awfully unfair the first time Estelle had tried to swim underwater and ended up with a mouthful of saltwater. Percy was always willing to translate for the fish at the aquarium, although Estelle was pretty sure he did the funny voices for her benefit. When Percy had landed Blackjack on their apartment’s roof after being called back to camp for an emergency, he had translated for his old friend too. Estelle loved those translations the most, even if they weren’t entirely accurate.

“Seriously, Blackjack, can you cool the language around my little sister?”

By age five, her older brother had bought wooden swords for the two of them to practice in the living room. Percy kept the moves simple, demonstrating before lightly wrapping his fingers around her tiny wrists and guiding her through the movements. Estelle would copy them intently with her nose scrunched up and her tongue stuck slightly to the side in concentration. They focused primarily on defensive strategies, but still had practice fights where Percy pretended to die dramatically.

“I don’t think this is a good idea Percy,” Sally had said after they broke their second lamp.

“Mom she can see them. And as long as I’m around Stella will always be a target.”

There was an unspoken promise in his words. I’m always going to be here Mom. I’m still alive, but I can’t lose anyone else, especially not my baby sister.

Estelle hugged her mother’s leg tightly, looking up with pleading eyes. “Please Mom I’ll be careful.”

Eventually, Paul signed Estelle up for fencing lessons because there had to be a better way to teach her to fight that didn’t involve the two of them wrecking the living room every time Percy visited. And if the way, allowed Paul to share his old fencing passion with his daughter, all the better. The living room still ended up with the furniture pushed to the side on a regular basis though because Estelle needed to demonstrate everything she’d learned for her big brother.

When Tyson had come to her sixth birthday party, his present had been a small bronze sword that transformed into a charm bracelet so Estelle could always be prepared. He’d look so proud and Estelle kept touching it reverently, but Sally had not been amused. She had wanted her daughter to grow up safe from this madness, even if she knew that wasn’t entirely a possibility. It was bad enough to have one child constantly in mortal peril and disappearing on dangerous quests.

“It can’t even hurt her; it’s celestial bronze. The first time I met Rachel I ran her through with Riptide and she’s still fine.”

Rachel flicked her red curls over her shoulder. “Worried for your sanity, but physically fine.”

Neither of them was as reassuring as they thought, but Estelle did get to keep the sword for emergency use only. This was after all a world full of monsters as well as heroes.

#estelle blofis #percy jackson #PJO #pjo/hoo #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fandom #riordenverse #pjo fic #my fic

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merlins-tits · 4 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Nora Holleran, Percy “Pez” Okonjo, June Claremont-Diaz, Shaan Srivastava Additional Tags: Boys In Love, minor pez/june, past nora/alex, henry is jealous, Alex is stupid, POV Henry Summary: The New Year’s Eve party but from Henry’s point of view. UM so I might have wrote the one New Year’s Eve party scene from Henry’s point of view because I couldn’t get it out of my head. The link is there but I’ll also just post it here, too. This is my first writing piece ever. Also I used most of the same dialogue from the actual scene but all credit goes to the wonderful Casey McQustion. These are their characters and they have all rights! A strong, deep bass rumbled from the speakers as Henry stumbled through the crowd searching for Alex. It had gotten to the point where he was on the verge of giving up when he spotted him. Alex was with two girls: Nora at his back with her arms wrapped around a small girl who looked vaguely familiar. Alex, though, had his head thrown back, laughing like someone had just told him the world’s best joke, his whole body alive with movement. It was intoxicating enough that Henry took a deep breath before sidling up next to him. He looked around to see people with their hands in the air, hands on someone’s waist, around someone’s neck, wrapped around a drink. Looking down at his own hands, he tried to copy those around him without looking completely prattish. Spoiler. It didn’t work. “You don’t dance?” Alex says, watching him. “No, I do,” Henry says. “It’s just, the family-mandated ballroom dancing lessons didn’t exactly cover this?” The last few words of his sentence come off as more of a question than a statement. “C’mon, it’s, like, in the hips. You have to loosen up.” Alex replies. He then does the unthinkable: he puts his hands on Henry’s hips and it’s all Henry can do to not tense up. By the look on Alex’s face, he thinks he’s failed. “That’s the opposite of what I said.” “Alex, I don’t–” “Here,” Alex says, moving his own hips, “watch me.” Henry feels the warmth creeping up the back of his neck, takes a gulp of his champagne, and says in what he hopes to be a level tone, “I am.” The song crossfades into another buh-duh dum-dum-dum, dum-duh-dum duh-duh-dum– “Shut up,” Alex yells, looking as though Christmas had come early. “Shut your dumb face, this is my shit!” He throws his hands up in the air as Henry stares at him blankly, and around them, people start cheering too, hundreds of shoulders shimmying to what Henry later learns to be “Get Low” by Lil Jon. “Did you seriously never go to an awkward middle school dance and watch a bunch of teenagers dry hump to this song?” Alex looks up at Henry as he stares back with wide eyes, clutching his champagne glass like a lifeline. “You absolutely must know I did not.” Alex turns to where Nora was standing a few feet away and snatches her away from the girl she was flirting with. Absently, Henry realizes that he recognizes this girl from the recent Spider-Man movie. “Nora!” Alex shouts, bringing Henry’s focus back to him. But honestly, when is he not focused on Alex? “Nora! Henry has never watched a bunch of teenagers dry hump to this song!” Nora stumbles and her face becomes so shocked that Henry fears that he’s done something wrong. “What?” she exclaims. “Please tell me nobody is going to dry hump me,” Henry says, bewilderment written all over his face. “Oh my God, Henry,” Alex yells, seizing Henry by one lapel as the music pounds on, “you have to dance. You have to dance. You need to understand this formative American coming-of-age experience.” Henry feels his willpower dwindling when he realizes just how close Alex has pulled them together. He doesn’t even think that Alex meant to, but suddenly, Henry is all too aware of the feeling of Alex’s body pressed against his. He thinks he might do something extremely stupid when Nora grabs Alex, pulling him away from Henry and spinning him around, her hands on his waist, and starts grinding with abandon. Alex woops and Nora cackles and the crowd jumps around and Henry just gawks at them. He lets out an indignant snort when he hears the lyrics for the first time. “Did that man just say ‘sweat drop down my balls’?” Alex is breathtaking, sweat on his brow, laughing hysterically, bent over grinding his ass against Nora’s front. She starts thrusting against Alex, smacking his ass on time with the beat of the song and Henry is sure he’s only seen this happening in movies. Henry rips his eyes away from the scene in front of him only to see Pez a few feet away bending over to the front and touching his toes. Alex sees it too and laughs even harder at Henry’s face. He accepts a shot from a passing tray, throwing it back and getting back to his dancing. He pouts his lips and shakes his ass, and even though Henry cannot fathom why his body starts reacting without him telling it to, his head starts to bop. "Fuck it up, vato!” Alex yells, and Henry laughs despite himself and hips start to move in a little baby shake. “I thought you weren’t going to babysit him all night,” June whispers to Alex as she twirls by, though it comes off as more of a shout. “I thought you were too busy for guys,” Alex says, nodding behind her. Henry looks over his shoulder and sees Pez watching June with a little grin on his face. He turns back around in time to see June throw Alex a wink before she’s off again. From there, Henry can’t find it in himself to care about how ridiculous he might look. He’s had too much to drink and there’s music he vaguely recognizes as early 2000s blasting from the speakers. He’s drinking champagne directly from the bottle and his willingness to dance likely has to do with how close Alex is and the fact that he can’t quite keep his hands to himself. Henry thinks he might explode. He watches Alex continue to grind against Nora and in the back of his head he hears a whisper that sounds a little bit like Pez saying “you wish that was you, huh?” The staring contest he seems to have started with Alex lasts well up until midnight, laughter bubbling out at random, wide smiles that they both can’t quite keep off of their faces. The countdown to the new year starts as they huddle up in their own little group, arms wrapped around each other, swaying slightly due to how much they’ve all had to drink. Henry thinks everything is going well until the countdown hits one, everyone screams “Happy New Year” and he sees Nora sling her arm around Alex’s neck and kiss him sloppily on the mouth. As they pull out of the kiss, Nora bites Alex’s lip and messes up his hair as he laughs. He opens his eyes and looks straight at Henry. Henry fights to keep his emotions off his face, he’s trained in it. It’s hard considering the jealousy rising up and he’s certain he must be green with it. Alex’s smile grows wider when he registers Henry’s expression, so Henry lifts the bottle of champagne up to his mouth, takes a hearty gulp, turns and walks through the crowd away from two-thirds of the White House Trio. Henry finds himself in the Garden without even registering how he got there and how long he’s been there. He slowly walks up to a tree and looks up into the sky. He’s so numb from the alcohol that he doesn’t care how cold it is. The only way he knows that he maybe should be wearing a jacket is when he breathes out and sees little puffs of steam in front of his face. He’s been out there for God knows how long when he hears a curse as someone stumbles over a bench behind him. “What’re you doing back here?” Alex says, trudging up to stand next to him under the tree. Henry squints down at him trying to focus on Alex’s face. It doesn’t work. It’s still blurry. Still beautiful. Whatever. “Looking for Orion,” he settles on saying. Alex huffs a laugh, looking up into the sky. Henry realizes his excuse must sound silly when he looks up as well and sees Alex fighting back a smile. The sky is not clear. It’s full of fluffy white clouds. “You must be really bored with the commoners to come stand out here and stare at the clouds.” “‘m not bored,” Henry mumbles. “What are you doing out here? Doesn’t America’s golden boy have some swooning crowds to beguile?” He means for it to come out harsher than it sounds. He hopes Alex doesn’t recognize the fondness in his voice. “Says Prince fucking Charming,” Alex answers, smirking. Henry frowns up at the clouds. He’s not sure if he likes that Alex compared him to a beautiful prince or if he’s disappointed that he is anything but. “Hardly.” His knuckle brushes the back of Alex’s hand at their sides, a little zip of warmth in the cold night. Henry feels it in his whole body. From the corner of his eye he can see Alex looking at him. The garden is quiet. It makes Henry uncomfortable. “You really didn’t answer my question, though,” Alex notes. Henry groans, rubbing a hand across his face. “You can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” He leans his head back. It thumps gently against the trunk of the tree. “Sometimes it gets a bit…much.” Alex keeps looking at him. He shifts, leaning back against the tree too. He nudges their shoulders together and Henry feels the corner of his mouth twitch at the contact. He tries to keep his smile down. He’s probably failing. “D’you ever wonder,” he says slowly, “what it’s like to be some anonymous person out in the world?” Alex frowns. “What do you mean?” “Just, you know,” Henry says, trying to find the right words. “If your mom weren’t the president and you were just a normal bloke living a normal life, what things might be like? What you’d be doing instead?” “Ah,” Alex says. He stretches out one arm out in front of him, makes a dismissive gesture with a flick of his wrist. “Well, I mean, obviously I’d be a model. I’ve been on the cover of Teen Vogue twice. These genetics transcend all circumstance.” Henry rolls his eyes, fighting to keep a fond smile off of his face. “What about you?” Henry shakes his head ruefully. “I’d be a writer.” Alex gives a little laugh. “Can’t you do that?” “Not exactly seen as a worthwhile pursuit from a man in line for the throne, scribbling verses about quarter-life angst,” Henry says dryly. “Besides, the traditional family career track is military, so that’s about it, isn’t it?” He bites his lip, and his brain supplies the words I’d date more, probably, as well. It takes him a moment to realize he’s voiced his thoughts when Alex starts laughing. “Right, because it’s so hard to get a date when you’re a prince.” Henry looks down at Alex. “You’d be surprised.” “How? You’re not exactly lacking for options.” Henry looks at him. He thinks there’s a twinge of jealousy in Alex’s voice and he hopes it’s not wishful thinking. It’s probably what gives him the courage to say, “The options I’d like…” dragging the words out, trying to hint at what he’s trying to say. “They don’t quite seem to be options at all.” Alex blinks. “What?” And Henry’s infatuated with him even more. “I’m saying that I have…people…who interest me,” Henry says, turning his body toward Alex now, speaking with a fumbling pointedness. Alex still looks entirely too confused and it’s endearing. “But I shouldn’t pursue them. At least not in my position.” “I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Alex says. Henry wants to punch him. “You don’t?” “No.” “You really don’t?” “I really, really don’t.” Henry grimaces in frustration, looking up to the sky wishing there was something up there to please knock some sense into Alex. He straightens. “Christ, you’re about as thick as it gets,” he says, and he grabs Alex’s face in both hands and kisses him. Alex freezes, and for a split second, Henry wonders if he’s read Alex all wrong. Then he feels Alex lean into him and Henry almost sighs in relief. His mouth slides against Alex’s, opens, and his tongue brushes against Alex’s. It’s wonderful and warm and everything Henry had hoped for. Probably even better. Oh. Definitely better. One of Henry’s hands finds its way into Alex’s hair and grabs it at the roots at the back of his head. Alex makes a small noise in the back of his throat and that’s when Henry realizes just what he’s done. He pulls away roughly, enough that Alex staggers back, eyes glazed over, the beginnings of bewilderment etching across his face. Henry mumbles a curse and a series of apologies, holding up his hands as he backs away. Eyes wide and heart in his throat, he turns on his heel and rushes out of the garden, leaving Alex standing in the snow. When he reaches the portico, he looks back and sees Alex start to come back to himself, touching his lips and beginning to make his way toward the White House. Henry slips inside, pushes through the crowd where he finds Pez. Even in his drunkenness, Pez takes one look at Henry and he must know. It’s probably written all over his face. “Please,” Henry hears himself say. There’s a roaring sound in his ears. “I can’t–Pez, I need to leave. I can’t be here.” Pez grabs his hand and leads him to where the PPOs are waiting by the wall. He leans over to Shaan and the next thing he knows is he’s being shuttled to the SUVs parked around the side of the White House. Henry can’t breathe and he doesn’t remember walking to the SUV. Henry can’t breathe and he sees a flash of betrayal and confusion on Alex’s face in the back of his mind. Henry can’t breathe and suddenly he’s in the private jet. Pez doesn’t even ask him what happened. He looks at Henry with sympathy and keeps a worried eye on him the entire flight. He doesn’t fall asleep, he won’t when Henry can’t breathe. Pez takes a deep breath and grabs Henry’s hand. “It’s gonna be okay, Henry. Just wait. I promise everything will be okay.” He was right, like always, Henry thinks. He runs his fingers down Alex’s naked back in the brownstone they share. Henry takes a deep breath.

#red white and royal blue #henry x alex #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #boys in love #theyre so stupid #I love them so much

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

Text

Parents

Title: Parents

Author: Gumnut

12 Jan 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Gotta love them anyway.

Word count: 4938

Spoilers & warnings: Episode tag for 3.20. Spoilers for Season Three, particularly 3.20.

Timeline: Directly after 3.20

Author’s note: This one is a weird one. It mostly wrote itself and what came out was odd.

I had to do some serious math on the brothers’ ages. Please see the notes at the end of the fic for details.

Many thanks to @scribbles97 for the read through and cheering and @thunderstorm-bay for the wonderful support ::hugs you::

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“I can’t believe he did that!”

John looked up as his littlest brother stormed into the lab. Alan was still in his uniform and obviously fuming.

“Did what?” Apparently, his calculations would have to wait. He straightened in his seat and turned to face his brother.

“You didn’t see it?”

“See what?” Sometimes it took time to get to the point.

“Virgil cleaning my face in front of thousands of people. With his own spit.”

“Oh, that.” John fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s just Virgil, you know that.” He turned back to his workstation. He really needed to get these calculations done and sent to Brains. “Oh, and it is more like millions rather than thousands. An enthusiastic Tracy follower clipped the shot and posted it to social media. It’s got raving reviews.” He pulled up the post and flung the hologram in his brother’s direction before focussing once again on that argumentative variable.

“What?!”

John vaguely registered Alan glaring at the hologram and its attached comments.

“Cute? Adorable? Baaaaby Tracy? What the hell?!”

John had to smirk. “Yeah, well, your fans do love you.”

“My fans? What fans?”

That brought John to a halt. He looked up at his brother. “Your fans. The Spacey Tracy Tribute Troop.”

“What?!”

John arched an eyebrow at the shock on his brother’s face. “You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t know.”

But Alan’s stunned expression blatantly said he didn’t. John rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Alan. You have a whole array of fans who love you. And that moment with Virgil is at the top of the charts.”

“But it is so stupid!”

“Why?”

“Because only mothers do that to their toddlers!” Alan’s face was a little red.

“Well, perhaps you will consider that next time you stuff a hot dog in your face before a big presentation. That glob of mustard was visible from space.”

“He could have just told me.”

Patience. “This is Virgil we are talking about. How long have you known him?”

Alan didn’t answer that, because it was obvious. Virgil and of course Scott would always be defacto parents to the rest of the brothers. Hell, John had been twelve when they lost their mother, but he still valued having two older brothers during that time. He had always valued having Scott and Virgil to turn to for support.

His little brother deflated and threw himself into a chair in picture of utter dejection. “It sucks.”

“Really?” John stared at Alan. “Look at the shot and you tell me exactly what you see.”

Stubborn blue eyes looked up and narrowed on the hologram as it replayed over and over again. “I look stupid.”

John sighed. “Read the comments. None of them say you look stupid.” He threw up a few of the better ones. “If anything they say you look loved.”

Alan stared at him.

-o-o-o-

Alan Tracy didn’t remember his mother. She died when he was still a baby. He had stories and photos, but all his life it had just been his older brothers. They were the ones who saw him off at school, they helped him with his homework, they were the ones he went to for help and advice. He still remembered the night he discovered who Santa Claus actually was.

It was their first Christmas on the Island and nine year old Alan had been worried the big red guy would have trouble finding him out in the middle of the Pacific. So, despite the reassurances from both Scott and Virgil, he had set his alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night.

Two am and he stumbled down the interior stairs of the new building. He could still remember the smell of new paint and wood stain and the slickness of the polished floor under his socks.

At first he had thought the voice was that of his father, but he knew his Dad was in New York for a special meeting. Scott had been rather loud in his argument against the his absence, but their father had left anyway.

Scott had been far from happy and Alan had given him a wide berth for most of Christmas Eve. Virgil had gathered them all for an evening movie, but even that had not fully dulled Scott’s expression. Not that his brother said anything. He just emanated unhappiness from the corner of the new lounge.

As he neared the main living room, he realised it was Virgil talking.

“Dad wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t important.”

“What possibly could be more important than our family?” Scott’s voice had anger in it, but it wasn’t the angry of him yelling, it was more resigned and defeated.

“He’s doing this for Mom.” Virgil sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Paper rustled. “Hand me the ribbon.”

“Grandma is upset.”

“I know.”

“It isn’t right. This is our first Christmas here. He should be here.”

“Well, he isn’t, so we’ll make the best of it.”

“It isn’t fair to Alan.”

“He’s got us.”

“We’re not his parents.”

“May as well be.”

“Virgil.”

“You said it yourself. Dad’s not here. Mom’s gone. He’s got us. He’s got Grandma. Could be worse.” Another rustle and Alan moved closer to the edge and peered around the corner.

Virgil and Scott were surrounded by wrapping paper in the middle of the circular lounge. Several shapes sat wrapped to one side. On the other there was a pile of shopping bags. A rocket kit almost as tall as him sat in amongst them.

It was the rocket he had asked Santa for Christmas.

His brothers were wrapping presents. Virgil stood up and grabbed an armful of gifts and hauled them out of the sunken lounge and piled them up under the tree just beyond the piano.

What?

“What are you guys doing?” It burst out before he could think.

His brothers looked up, stunned expressions on their faces. “Alan?!”

“Virgil?” He eyed his eldest brother. “Scott?”

Virgil recovered first, Scott was still staring at Alan in shock.

“Hey, Allie, what are you doing up? Bad dream?” His brother put down the presents in his hands and walking around the lounge, headed in Alan’s direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Um...” Scott appeared stuck.

Virgil came up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “We’re wrapping presents.” He squeezed a hug.

“But Santa...?”

Scott looked down at the wrapping paper in his hands. Virgil drew Alan close and walked him into the sunken lounge. He sat him down and took a seat beside him. “Well, I guess you’re old enough now.”

“Virgil.”

“Scott, he’s old enough.”

Alan frowned as his oldest brother’s shoulders slumped and his whole body sagged. He dropped the wrapping paper in his hands and sat down in defeat, running his hands through his hair. To be honest, that freaked Alan out more than anything. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Allie. Scott’s just had a bad day and he’s tired.”

“Then why isn’t he in bed? Why are you wrapping Christmas presents?” He felt he knew the answer, but it couldn’t be right, could it?

“We’re on Santa duty.” Virgil’s brown eyes were wide and honest and kind of caring.

“Santa duty? But where is Santa?”

Sad blue eyes looked up at him. “There is no Santa, Alan. We wrap the presents and put them under the tree for you.”

Alan stared him. “What?”

“There is a Santa.” Virgil was glaring at his eldest brother. “Just not the Santa you think you know.”

“What?”

“Every year we choose presents and under the guise of Santa, we gift them to those we love. You are now old enough to gift presents to those you love, too. You can be Santa.”

Alan stared at him. “But what about the North Pole and the reindeer and the red suit and...”

“A fairytale.”

“Scott.”

“C’mon, Virg, he’s found us out.”

“He’s found out the truth. That we as a family give each other gifts because we love each other. We don’t need to glam it up anymore.”

“You lied to me?”

Virgil’s eyes widened, but then he sighed. “A little.”

“Why?”

Scott stood up, walked around the centre table and sat on Alan’s other side. “Allie, it’s a coming of age thing.”

“Why?”

Virgil answered. “Because it is sometimes nice to believe there is a little magic in our lives.”

Alan remembered the disappointment he felt at that moment and perhaps the loss of innocence, but of that night, the one thing that still stuck in his mind was the sadness in his brothers’ eyes.

Sure, Virgil was cheerful and positive, and even if Scott had been a little tired and grumpy, he was there and an hour later after wrapping first Gordy’s present, then one for John, he had gone to bed with the new knowledge and a sense of responsibility.

The hugs hadn’t hurt either.

Christmas morning had a little less urgency to run down to the main room and Gordon had to be clapped around the ears by Grandma for teasing him about the whole thing, but it had just become another part of growing up.

That his mother and father had missed.

He didn’t hold it against them. Mom, he never knew, and Dad had to make the sacrifices so other families didn’t have suffer the loss of a parent like they had, but it really just was another example of his two eldest brothers being there for him.

Which really sunk in when he was officially orphaned two years later.

-o-o-o-

Alan continued to stare at John.

“Do you have a problem with being loved?”

“What? Nooo.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m eighteen! They treat me like I’m still a kid!”

“You are still a kid.”

“No, I’m not!”

John held back the instinctive rebuttal and bit the inside of his cheek. “Alan, look at it from Scott’s point of view. He has been your guardian for eight years. Technically he is almost old enough to be your father. It has been his responsibility to look after you for even longer than that. That isn’t something that just switches off.”

“I’m not talking about Scott. I’m talking about Virgil. He’s not my guardian, but he treats me like he is.”

John’s lips thinned. “Don’t you ever say something like that to his face. In fact, don’t bother saying it in front of me again either. We’ve all made sacrifices, Alan, but none more than Scott, and Virgil isn’t far behind. You’d be better to recognise that and be grateful for what you have.”

Alan grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. They’re great, it’s just...so frustrating.”

“Then perhaps it is your turn to show the patience that has been offered you all these years.”

-o-o-o-

In 2055 the world lost the brilliant entrepreneur, billionaire business man and founder of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy.

Eleven year old Alan Tracy lost his Dad.

He also lost a part of his biggest brother. Scott had been forced to sit idle in Thunderbird One while his father tackled the Hood. He hadn’t been able to do anything but watch the Zero-X explode in front of him.

The whole family had been shattered, but no more than its new head. Scott was driven wild, determined that their father was not dead. The world disagreed, the explosion had been too final, too definite, to be anything but fatal. But Scott refused to believe.

There were arguments. They tried to hide them from the youngest brothers, and yes, at sixteen Gordon was almost as under-aged as Alan. But the pair of them could hear Scott’s strident and commanding voice echo through the house, followed by Virgil’s bellowed contradiction.

The day Alan found Grandma crying in the kitchen was the last straw.

“Grandma?” Did his voice have to sound so small?

She startled and turned. Her eyes were red and wet and, oh god, there were tears on her cheeks. “Grandma? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Umm...I’m just not feeling right at the moment. I’ll be okay.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, but the smile was so forced his heart broke.

“Is it because Scott and Virgil are fighting?”

She shook her head, but didn’t seem to be able to say anything.

“Is it because of Daddy?”

And there were tears running down her face and he found himself wrapped in her arms. To his shock, he found he was almost her height, her head resting easily on his shoulder. “It will be okay, Allie.” But her voice was sobbing.

Eventually, she straightened and her smile became brighter and she sent him on his way. Told him to go clean his room, in fact, but Alan had a better idea.

He found them facing off on either side his father’s desk. Holograms hovered over it and his two biggest brothers were glaring at each other through the flickering images.

“It is what Dad would do.”

“You are not Dad.”

“Somebody has to be.”

“Why?! Why Scott? Why can’t we be ourselves?”

“Because this is what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I do! I knew him better than you!”

Virgil took a step back, eyes widening.

Scott echoed his expression as if realising exactly what he had just said. “I didn’t mean that, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Plaid clad shoulders straightened and squared. “Yes, you did. But regardless, International Rescue was his dream, not ours.”

“So you want to give it up? Just like that?”

“No! As I have said multiple times, we just need to do it differently! We’re down an operative. Gordon and Alan are not old enough to take their places on the team. Hell, they may not even want to! We can only do so much. Give John some time to find his feet, for goodness sake.”

“Time is something we do not have. People will die.”

“People will die anyway! I just want to make sure no Tracys are on that list!” Virgil was leaning over the desk, his big shoulders wound so tight, his shirt look fit to bust a seam.

Alan had intended to yell at them, maybe scream a little for what they had done to Grandma, but instead their words scared him and suddenly he had tears on his cheeks, just like Grandma.

“Allie?” Virgil caught sight of him and within a split second was kneeling on the hardwood in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to find his voice but he found himself wrapped in soft plaid flannel anyway, big hands rubbing his back.

“You hurt Grandma.” It came out as a sob.

“What? What’s wrong with Grandma?” Scott was standing beside them, his stance immediately ready to go and fix whatever problem Alan was able to point him at.

Unfortunately he was part of the problem.

He pulled away from Virgil and turned on both of them. “You. Both of you. You made Grandma cry. All you do is yell and fight!”

Both brothers froze and his eleven year old heart beat an extra beat in just a tiny bit of triumph. Perhaps they would listen? “Since Daddy died, you’ve done nothing but fight. I hate it when you fight and so does Grandma. Gordon hates it too. He goes swimming to get away from it. I don’t even know where John is. Please stop.” His throat caught again and he almost strangled on a sob. “Please.”

To his horror he realised Virgil had tears in his eyes and that, of course, only set Alan off more. Once again he found himself wrapped in his big brother’s arms. Virgil’s chest rumbled with words, but Alan didn’t understand what he said.

When he surfaced, Scott was no longer in the room.

“Scott has gone to find Grandma, to make sure she is okay.” Virgil wasn’t letting him go and his big brother had red rimmed eyes. Virgil’s voice was little more than a rumble. “I’m sorry, Allie. We’ll try to do better.”

His brother held him for a long time. Eventually Scott and Grandma found their way into the comms room, John was called out of his hidey-hole and Gordon dragged out of the pool. There was much family talking, hugging, a little more crying, but ultimately they worked it out enough to keep going.

The arguments stopped.

Well, mostly. Virgil still brought them out on very special occasions. Usually when Scott was being a pig-headed moron which fortunately wasn’t very often.

Life went on as best it could.

But then Gordon had the hydrofoil accident.

-o-o-o-

There was silence in the lab after that. Alan wasn’t happy, it was obvious, but he didn’t say anything so John just let him stew a while. Let him take the next step in the conversation.

After all, these calculations weren’t going to calculate themselves.

He just made it into that comfortable zone where he knew exactly what he was doing and had to be done, the numbers flowing, the equations dancing to his tune, and...

“What was Mom like?”

John blinked. That came from left field. Numbers dissolved in his head. “What did you want to know?”

“You know, things.”

“Things? You’ve seen the videos.”

“Of course, I have.” Their father, Scott and the budding artist, Virgil, had made many home videos over the years. They still did, knowing exactly what could be taken away in a flash and without notice. So there was plenty of footage of their mother.

Virgil was the brother most often found delving into those files. John had done his fair share of watching late at night when the Earth so far below just didn’t give him what he needed. Eos knew those files well and often offered them without prompt when John was feeling down.

But Virgil was the one who had the most affinity for their mother. Not to devalue any brother’s grief, but as Virgil had been the closest to her, the most like her in both appearance and interests. Knowing her must have been like learning about himself, his art, his music and answering all those questions their father just couldn’t answer.

John had a few of those himself. He had no doubt Virgil had more.

“She was a lot like Virgil is today. If you’re asking if she would have wiped the mustard off your face, I can tell you right now, she did the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions.” It had been quite gross actually. Fortunately, he had learnt fast and removed the stimulus for such an action at an early age.

His musician brother had been fifteen to John’s twelve and Alan’s one year when they had lost their mother. Alan had no memory of her. Gordon at age six had been just old enough to know what he had lost but not really why. John swore that the close bond between Gordon and Virgil had been forged in those early years as their older brother had responded when Scott couldn’t, tied up with the ball of grief that was their father.

It had been a bad time, but they had struggled through it.

“She used to sing a lot. She and Virgil sang together every Christmas.” His brother hadn’t sung much since, the tradition lost to grief. “She was more open than Dad. Less of a stickler for rules, more willing to be flexible.” Their father was military and he fell back on discipline when at a loss.

Scott thrived under his father’s regime.

Virgil did not.

And his resemblance to his mother didn’t help in the slightest.

“Mom knew how to make Dad smile. She loved a good joke. Heh, I swear Gordon gets that from her. Once she put a jack-in-the-box in Scott’s lunch box. He nearly had a heart attack in the school cafeteria.”

“Why would she do that?” Alan frowned up at him.

“She believed in experience being the greatest teacher. She caught Scott boasting about his parents to another kid who was far less fortunate. About all their successes. She didn’t appreciate it and figured Scotty could come down a peg or two. She succeeded.”

“Wow. Scott did that?”

John snorted. “Scott was a kid as much as any of us once. He’d prefer you believed he sprouted fully formed, but no, he had to grow up and make the same stupid mistakes we did.” Half a smile. “He’s far from perfect, but he tries.”

“He certainly does.” Alan grinned a little fondly, but then his face fell and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m being an ass.”

An arched eyebrow. “I never said you were an ass.”

“No, but I am. You guys have been great. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Except maybe a little less saliva?”

“Eww, yeah, Virg had garlic bread for lunch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

John couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

Alan stared at him a moment longer before his face cracked too.

“Gotta love him anyway, I guess.”

A snort. “Yeah, we do.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s career was a fast one. Straight out of high school and into the Olympics. By the time he was eighteen, he had a gold medal hanging on the wall and had started his career in WASP.

Alan missed his fishy brother, but he was ever so proud of him. There had been talk of him joining International Rescue and activating the final Thunderbird once his training and tenure was done. Alan had seen his brother hovering around the slick little yellow submarine and Scott had been heard to wish for the full complement of Thunderbirds to finally be deployed.

The fact John was flying the ‘bird Alan wanted to fly more than anything was beyond frustrating.

Virgil was helping Alan with his physics homework when the call came through.

A familiar face flickered up on the holoprojector at the end of the kitchen table. “Aunt Val. Hey, how are you?” Virgil offered her a smile as Alan surfaced from under the details of pressure, torque, momentum and velocity that were required to tackle the problem at hand.

“Good morning, Virgil. Is Scott available?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s out on a rescue. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Aunt Val.”

“Alan.” Her expression was grave and something in Alan’s gut twisted.

“What’s wrong?”

Beside him, Virgil sat up straighter. “What is it?”

The Colonel sighed. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news. Your brother Gordon has been in an accident...”

And their world dissolved there and then.

Alan didn’t remember much of those early days. There had been frantic calls to brothers, John limping around because he had crashed to Earth too quickly for his own health. The fear in Scott’s eyes had been terrible.

The sight of his fish brother decked out in medical equipment.

The not knowing.

The terror.

Virgil holding him in the hospital corridor while Alan cried his eyes out all over his shirt.

Scott sitting at his brother’s bed, head bowed down to the sheets clinging to a limp hand.

John, vacant eyed, staring into nothing the night they thought they were finally going to lose Gordon.

Virgil crying in his grandmother’s arms.

Scott kicking a hole in Gordon’s door and making enough racket to wake up the dead.

Gordon answering the call and faintly scolding Scott to keep it down.

The hope that followed.

That first week, their lives froze. Everything stopped. School, IR, regular meals, everything. The outside world kept moving around them, ignoring their pain, but within their family everything stopped, narrowing only to the hospital and their desperately ill brother.

Once Gordon woke up. It started to move again.

Life slowly came back.

It became full of odd moments. Brothers in places he didn’t expect to find them. Gordon’s illness brought out aspects of Alan’s family he didn’t expect.

He had to say that the most unexpected was the day John walked into Gordon’s hospital room with his red hair spiked in all different directions. It was as if he had stuck his fingers in a power socket and sprayed gel into his hair at the same time.

Gordon had laughed himself silly and considering there had been tears half an hour prior, this was a major thing.

Apparently Gordon had dared him once to do it and John had saved it for a special occasion.

Alan made sure he took pictures for history’s sake.

Another day he found Virgil curled up asleep in the chair beside Gordon, his head on his brother’s pillow. The engineer was still in his uniform and covered in dirt. The hospital staff were going to have a fit.

Alan stopped in the doorway and Scott collided with his back with a “What?”

“Shhh...” And Gordon was holding up a very shaky and uncoordinated hand that clearly said ‘Leave him be.’

“What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to back at Tracy Island.” Scott’s voice was a worried whisper.

“B-bad rescue.” Gordon’s voice was as shaky as his hand. “Think he w-want to ch-check I’m ‘kay. Cos they weren’t.”

“Shit.” It was little more than expelled breath.

His big brother disappeared out into the hallway and a moment later they had the full story from John.

A boat. A teenage boy. And a flood. Virgil did his best, but there were limits.

They sat together until Virgil woke up, groggy and miserable. Scott took him out of the room and Alan was left alone with Gordon.

“I should been there.” His brother’s speech was patchy. The hydrofoil he had be travelling in had been at travelling at a ridiculous speed. When one of its foils collapsed, he was very lucky he wasn’t killed. There was a long, long road ahead.

“Wasn’t your fault, Gordon.”

“No, but should be there for him.”

As if that was the starting point. His brother picked himself off the ground and drove himself back to health. It took a lot of work and no small amount of pain, but a year later Gordon Tracy presented himself to the Commander of International Rescue ready for action.

It took another six months and Gordon’s birthday for his brother to be drunk enough to mention to Alan exactly what had happened that afternoon and what Virgil had said to him.

His fish brother held up his glass, grim and serious. “Our big bros are THE BEST.”

Alan smiled, hoping to god Gordon wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning. The fact Virgil had come off a hell of a rescue, exhausted and upset, and flown in to see Gordon just to sing him a lullaby was baffling. But it had apparently done something for Gordon and for that Alan would ever be grateful.

-o-o-o-

“So what happens when we find Dad?”

John started, suddenly thrown out of old memories. “Uh, whatever needs to happen?”

“Do you think he will be okay? It has been so long.”

Eight years alone in space. “I don’t know, Alan.”

“How did we not work this out earlier? That capsule was sitting down there all that time. Dad has been waiting so long. He’s missed so much.”

John closed his eyes and touched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have the answers, Alan. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” His little brother swallowed. “It’s just that I can’t remember much about him anymore. He’s going to be a stranger.”

“He’s our father. We’ll make it work.” They had to make it work. The guilt was tearing Scott apart. Eight years. Eight long years just because they had missed one piece of the puzzle. Dad could have been home years ago.

The yelling had started again. Scott angry and hurt, Virgil battling to keep him on the straight and narrow and tackling his own guilt at the same time.

John felt the guilt, too. He had looked at everything after the incident. Everything. He had even combed space. Eos had been looking for their father from the day she joined him despite John’s heart telling him it was a lost cause, that Scott was wishing for the impossible, that it had been too long. She had been scanning for three years they still hadn’t found him. Until now, and from a clue that could have...should have been found so long ago.

“I wonder what he looks like.”

John closed his eyes.

“Johnny? You okay?”

“Don’t call me Johnny.”

He received a snort for that. “Yeah, well, I guess it will be good to save Dad and bring him home.”

A frown. “You guess?”

“Well, yeah, it will be great. But you are right.”

The frown deepened and he looked over at his little brother. “I right? With what? You’ve lost me.”

“Well, Scott and Virg are really the ones who’ve been there for me, you know?” Alan rubbed the back of his head. “So, like, they are the closest I have to parents. They were doing that gig even before Dad went missing.”

John stared.

His little brother didn’t notice. Instead he stood up. “Well, I guess I should get out of this uniform. Getting a little ripe, I think. Anyway, thanks for the chat, bro.”

And with that Alan bounced out of the lab as fast as he had bounced in.

John blinked and turned back to the calculations he had been trying to wrangle this entire time.

But the numbers ignored him.

Dad.

Scott.

Virgil.

If they found their father, things were going to change.

John frowned and rubbed his face.

Damn.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

Notes on the Tracy brothers’ ages in this fic:

The conclusions I have come to are based on three things – Alan’s estimated age of 16 in season one, the number of years ago they lost Jeff as stated in season three and counting back using each season as a year with season one being set in 2060, and also the need for the eldest three boys to be adult at the time of the loss of Jeff in order to keep IR running and for Scott to take guardianship of the younger two. So my calculations with a few estimates thrown in are that in 2060 Scott is 31, Virgil 30, John 27, Gordon 21 and Alan 16. I know this is older than generally recognised for TAG and the only age I can be vaguely sure about is Alan’s but there is logic behind these calculations. It does merge it slightly better with TOS, so I think I’ve balanced the two.

Jeff was 24 when Scott was born. Lucy was 22.

Lucy died age 38 when Scott was 16, Virgil 15, John 12, Gordon 6, Alan 1. Jeff was 40.

IR started and they moved to the island when Scott was 24, Virgil 23, John 20, Gordon 14 (not an operative), Alan 9.

Jeff (aged 50) was lost two years later when Scott was 26, Virgil 25, John 22, Gordon 16, Alan 11.

In season three this would make Scott 33, Virgil 32, John 29, Gordon 23 and Alan 18 which is where this story is set.

I generally see Kayo as the same age as Gordon, but in this case she may be a little older, perhaps between Gordon and John.

(It should be noted that in most of my other fics I had the boys generally much younger, but with the canon mention in season three of Jeff having gone missing eight years ago, I have since had to recalculate things otherwise the boys would be too young to keep IR going. In Warm Rain, for example, Virgil is 24 and Kayo 20. This is not possible with the new information of Jeff being missing for eight years because Virgil would have only been sixteen when he disappeared).

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #tag spoilers #tagspoilers #episode tag

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marieandr · 5 years ago

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Fic: turn it upside down (just you and me)

Pairing: Baby Batcat Rating: T AO3 Link: Here Notes: Why does no one care about Selina’s birthday in the Gotham fandom?Can’t find the fic you want, guess you gotta write it yourself. Catch me on main @secretsecrettunnel

“How old are you?”

“I think it’s a bit late to be worrying if I’m a minor or not now, don’t you B?” She turns away, rifling through the small chest of drawers until she finds a knitted hat - she’s not sure if it’s hers or Bruce’s - and she pulls it on to hide her hair.

“Happy birthday B.”

Her words are muffled against the skin of his chest, most of her body still on top of his as they lie underneath a pile of blankets and their discarded jackets. He trails the fingers of the arm wrapped around her up and down her bare back, connecting freckles he knows are there with invisible lines.

“Thanks,” Bruce presses a kiss into her mess of curls, wild after running his hands through them. “Quite a bit different from how we celebrated my last birthday.”

“I dunno,” Selina stretches, the movement rolling from the tips of her toes all the way up to her neck, her whole body shifting against him and making him shudder. She peers up at him from under her hair, a shit-eating grin spreading from ear to ear. “I still got my cake and I got to eat it too this year.”

“Selina…” Bruce groans as an embarrassed flush blooms up his neck and cheeks. She laughs in reply, shifting to press kisses along the side of his jaw before pushing herself above him on one elbow.

“We should get dressed, Gotham in February with heat is cold - No Man’s Land in February with no heat is how we’ll die,” Selina watches as Bruce’s eyes dart from her face down to the space between them and the expanse of pale skin she’s put on display. “Hey - eyes up here, big boy.”

She is standing in the middle of the room mostly dressed and trying and failing to push her hair into some semblance of not freshly-fucked-mess when she looks up and meets Bruce’s intense stare. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s pulling on his gloves slowly.

“What?”

“How old are you?”

“Selina.” He’s right behind her and she sighs as he pulls on her shoulders, turning her body to face his. Her hands play with her hair as he stares at her. She raises her eyebrows in challenge and it’s his turn to sigh before he reaches up and helps fix the mess he caused.

“I was born the year before you,” Selina says quietly. Bruce’s hand stops fussing with her hair and he grasps the side of neck, his gloved thumb rubbing the soft spot behind her ear. She wraps her own gloved hand around his wrist, missing the feeling of his warm skin already. “So I guess I’m twenty. Nearly. Maybe.”

“You guess?”

“B, my mom left when I was five. I had a few other things to worry about that were more important than remembering my birthday.” She rolls her eyes at him with a smile. Her head turns in his grasp and she presses a kiss to his gloved palm. “C’mon, you promised you’d share your birthday can of peaches with me.”

...

Bruce promises her that it’ll be worth it, crossing through the dark parts of the city that were not the green zone. They move quickly down dirty side alleys, ducking behind cars when they hear other people and standing closer together than needed in the shadows when they stop to peer around corners.

He leads her to a nicer part of the island - or as nice as any part of Gotham could be after the bridges had been blown. She doesn’t say anything to him, but she knows she has definitely burgled a few of the apartments in this neighbourhood.

They sneak inside one of the complexes quickly - he has a key, but they don’t want anyone to see them entering a building and making themselves an easy target. There’s no power in the building so the elevator is not an option - ten flights of stairs is broken up by the occasional kiss.

The top floor is the penthouse of the building and, of course - of course -, he owns it. Another key, some fancy fingerprint scanner and they’re in. He pulls her by the hand into the sitting room, bright and airy with big windows that let in the mid-March sun, and drops the backpack he had been carrying onto the low coffee table.

“Why have you been sleeping in my tiny bed in the green zone if you have this whole apartment?” Selina asks as she throws her gloves on the table and shrugs out of her leather jacket, tossing it over one of the sofas. He gives her a small smile as he copies her actions.

“There’s no power here,” Bruce answers. She throws herself on the sofa and closes her eyes. Her hand is enveloped by his much warmer one and she opens one eye to peer at him. He’s sitting in front of her on the coffee table and she’s taken back in time for a few seconds to another sitting room in another Wayne property. “You’re not here.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age, kid,” Selina smiles and squeezes his hand. She closes her eyes again.

“Perhaps.” She can feel him shift as his arm pulls against her. The rucksack rustles and Bruce clears his throat.

“Selina,” he squeezes her hand again and she sits upright and opens her eyes. He has a can of peaches in his other hand and a soft smile on his lips. “Happy birthday.”

Her eyes dance between the can and his eyes a few times and she’s not sure what to say.

“I had Lucius do a little digging,” Bruce places the can on the table and grabs her other hand. “You were born in Gotham General Hospital at 7.48 am on March 13th.”

“March 13th, huh?” Selina’s brow furrows for a moment. “I guess it’s a good thing cats always land on their feet. You know anything else about me that I don’t?”

“You were just over eight pounds when you were born which I suppose is pretty big considering…” Bruce’s eyes are mischievous and he glances down at the thick heels of her boots. Her nails prick into the skin of his palms in warning and she pouts. “We got your social security number too, figured you probably never got your card.”

“Yeah, they don’t tend to send social security cards to people who don’t have addresses,” she tries to glare at him, but she can’t stop herself from smiling. “Billionaire brat.”

“A billionaire brat who may also have a bottle of wine or two stashed somewhere in this apartment,” Bruce brings her hands to his mouth and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Officially twenty.”

“Officially not a teenager,” Selina answers. Her teeth catch her bottom lip for a moment before she grins at him, a cheeky glint in her eyes. “Got myself a toy boy. Can you have a sugar daddy that’s younger than you?”

Bruce’s stare is unimpressed and Selina laughs loudly. She stands up, gripping his jaw and angling his face up towards her own as she leans over him. She kisses him, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth as she pulls away. She bends over and loosens her laces, avoiding his eyes. “Thanks. For this. All of it. When do we have to go back to the GCPD?”

“Tomorrow,” Bruce replies, holding her steady as she wriggles out of her boots. “There’s candles somewhere in the kitchen and plenty of blankets. I brought enough food - maybe not anything that’ll pair particularly well with the wine here.”

She smiles softly. “I’ll share my birthday peaches with you.”

#batcat #baby batcat #Selina Kyle #bruce wayne #bruce x selina #gotham #fanfic #gotham fic #batcat fic #baby batcat fic #prompts welcome

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evak-elu-nicotino · 5 years ago

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A Gio & Marti friendship fic - part I

Okay, so I needed to write a Gio & Marti fanfiction because their friendship is iconic, and I wanted to do something pre-canon.

I hope you’ll like it ! Please let me know what you think of it !

And I’ll never be grateful enough to my wonderful beta-reader, @unfinishedbusinessss. Thank you so much girl, you’re a gem, truly !

Thank you for reading !

Fandom : SKAM Italia

Relationships : Giovanni Garau & Martino Rametta

Words : 4646

Chapter : 1/?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143155/chapters/58132195

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I. My life is changing and I’m so lost

Martino Rametta just turned ten when his parents started fighting all the time. He was worried. Staying up quite late at night whenever he heard them screaming in the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that their own son had a whole day at a new school to worry about. Marti slipped through the door to his bedroom and stood in the hallway, eyes tearing up. He hated the fights between his parents. He hated hearing them screaming insults at each other. Fighting about stuff he knew nothing about, hearing words he couldn’t possibly understand. He was ten, for God’s sake. His parents were supposed to comfort him at night when he was having nightmares. Comfort him about changing schools right before junior high, not fight about a woman named Paola. He didn’t know anyone named Paola, and he had a feeling that this Paola wasn’t good news. Either for him, or for his parents.

Martino already heard the word divorce several times at this point in his life, in other discussions, other contexts. He knew what it meant, and he was scared. His dad meant everything to him, and his mom’s hugs were the best. Honestly, he couldn’t possibly comprehend how much a change this big in his life could mean. He laid in bed that night, eyes wide open, silently praying, even though he never believed in God. His parents never took him to church, even though he heard several times that they both grew up in religious families. But since his four grandparents died before he was born, he actually never entered a church in his life.

Elisabetta and Giancarlo Rametta were the only family he had, since neither of them had siblings, and neither did Martino. His parents were his whole world, and seeing them fight like that wasn’t reassuring at all. Martino wasn’t a confident child. Growing up, his parents told him all the right things: he was smart, beautiful, he could do whatever he wanted if he put his mind to it. Martino wasn’t lazy per se: he was just an almost-teenager who wanted nothing more than to play calcio with the kids in his neighborhood, whenever they invited him to join them. So for now, his mind was set on football, comic books, and reading. He was rather a quiet kid. Not really shy, but not really the type of kid you’d describe at exuberant and outgoing. He kept to himself, that’s all. He had a rather large imagination and could spend hours in his bedroom, sometimes drawing (rather badly, in his own words), sometimes just daydreaming, staring out the window. He grew up not having too many friends, and that was really fine with him. He honestly didn’t need a lot in his life, because he had the safety of a loving family and a few friends he could count on. That was more than enough to him.

Giovanni Garau was his best friend. They met on the first day of preschool, exchanged a few words, played football during recess, and that was that. They had been the closest friends could be ever since and honestly he couldn’t quite picture his life without Gio in it. And the fact that they managed to convince both set of parents to change schools a year before going to junior high was a fact he couldn’t possibly wrap his head around. Last year, Martino grew several inches. He got taller than any of the other kids in his class, but not really a classy kind of tall. He was the lanky kid that almost everyone started making fun of. And on top of that, Martino had brownish-red hair. Not the kind of in-your-face red hair, but still. He had freckles from a very early age, freckles that weren’t only on his face, but on his thighs, back, shoulders and neck as well. So yeah, being the tall, lanky redhead kid with freckles wasn’t exactly the most fun thing to live through.

As always though, Gio had his back. He was the one who talked to his parents and told them that Marti was having a tough time at school, kids making fun of him all the time, stealing his lunch, his homework, sometimes even his shoes whenever he was in PE class. At first, honestly Marti’s parents didn’t really take him seriously, but Marti, who was listening from the his own bedroom, door ajar, soon realized that his parents had his best interests at heart, and so did Gio. He talked to them for almost half an hour and when they finally said, “Okay Giovanni, I promise you we will think about it, thank you for telling us.” Martino almost couldn’t believe it. His best friend came back to his room, smiling like a madman. He looked so smug Marti almost wanted to smack his arm, but he was so grateful to him. He got up and hugged him hard. “Let me go Marti, you’re suffocating me,” Gio laughed, crinkled eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. “Seriously, if they say yes, I owe you big time. Those guys just...” Martino didn’t finish his sentence. Gio sat down on the bed and patted the sheet next to him. Marti sat on the bed, head hung low. “Hey, Martino, whatever happens, even if we don’t change schools, I’m always gonna be there for you, don’t you worry. I’ll be by your side day and night if need be. You should know that by now, nothing’s gonna stop me from protecting you.” He had such a serious look on his face. Marti had no other choice than to believe him. Thank God for Giovanni Garau.

II. Being a teenager : where’s the handbook ?

On his twelfth birthday, Martino wakes up to the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen, and his mother bustling around, moving pots and pans from one side to another. He enters the room yawning, scratching his hair which sticks in every direction. His mom smiles up at him, and kisses him fondly on the cheek. “Happy birthday honey, I hope you’re gonna have an amazing day! Auguri!” He smiles up at her. The divorce didn’t go smoothly, but his dad behaved like a complete jackass. Martino is a little mad at him, to be honest. And most days, his mother is crying in her bedroom and the worst thing is: he can hear her, and there’s nothing he can do about it. So he huddles up into his bedsheets pulling up the blanket above his head, putting his earphones on, and falls asleep listening to some random songs. Being twelve isn’t exactly easy for Martino. Gio is starting to really show interest in girls and Martino just isn’t interested. He really can’t see the point of them: long hair, frilly clothes and pink shoes, sometimes lip gloss or even worse, lipstick. But he sees Gio’s gaze lighting up whenever he sees one, trying to chat them up, strike up a conversation, manage to get a laugh or two out of them. Just being his charming self, and sure, having baby blue eyes doesn’t hurt.

The girls, to be fair, seem quite interested to Martino as well. One or two of them actually talked to him once or twice and Marti’s gotta admit, he kinda understands what Gio sees in them. Some of them are pretty. But at the end of the day, Martino’s better off reading or listening to music. Or better yet, talking to Gio for hours and hours on end. He doesn’t mind that his best friend doesn’t have a girlfriend, to be honest, because when he will, he just knows that everything will be different. He’s not ready yet for their friendship to change. So he clings on to Gio like he’s his rock, which he kinda is.

One morning, Martino’s waiting for his best friend in front of his house, checking his watch every now and then. He frowns upon seeing that it’s already past 8:30 and Gio’s nowhere in sight. He knocks on the door, only to have his mom tell him that he already left for school. And then she adds, with a smile tugging at her lips, the sentence that’s gonna make Marti sad for the whole day. “He was with a brunette. I think her name is Laura, or something like that. Didn’t he tell you?” Marti smiles, nods, and wishes Mamma Garau a good day, before turning on his heel, on the verge of tears. How could Gio have stood him up like that? And more importantly, what was he doing with that girl from their class... Laura? He shows up at school, puts down his bag next to his chair, anger boiling inside of him. He bites the inside of his cheek as the teacher gets up in front of the class and starts the lesson of the day. Ignoring Gio’s repeated whispers to his right, Martino tries to concentrate on whatever la Prof. Marca is saying. But for whatever reason, his ears are ringing, and his cheeks are flush. His hands are somewhat shaking and he knows he has a right to be angry at his best friend for standing him up for some girl he barely knows. Although, deep down inside, Martino has a feeling this isn’t the typical reaction you have when a close friend of the same gender gets a crush on a girl. His stomach drops a little, and he shakes his head, trying to think about something else. Anything else but the fact that the feeling he recognizes in his gut is called... Jealousy. Martino wakes in the middle of the night, drenched in his own sweat, and he frowns, disgusted by his own smell. He gets up, changes pajamas, puts on deodorant, and even takes the time to actually change his sheets. He focuses on the tasks, meticulously. His brain is reeling, heart beating so fast he was actually scared of having a panic attack. He has to forget the dream he just had, nothing makes sense. He goes into the bathroom, glances up at the clock. 4:17AM. And he has a big English test tomorrow. He needs to get some sleep before heading to school, or his mother will let him know how she’s furious with him for getting a bad grade. A grade he knows he’ll get if he doesn’t go back to sleep as soon as possible.

He turns off the lights and lies in his bed, eyes wide open, willing sleep to just come and take him peacefully. Half an hour later, Martino’s brain gone to places he just hates so much. He’s in the middle crisis of self-loathing, when he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, and slips into the bathroom, taking a glass of water, trying to think about something else. Honestly, anything else would be better than this torture.

Marti knows that generally speaking, teenage years are the toughest to get through. Sometimes identity and sexuality crisis can happen. It can be the time of your life when you start to figure out... stuff. But he really can’t wrap his head around the fact that he just had this dream. A dream that makes him recoil every time he thinks about it. God, what did he do in a previous life to deserve such a karma... Honestly?! At 6:30AM, when he finally gives up and decides that he won’t get back to sleep before his alarm goes off, he gets up again and prepares himself some breakfast. He’s in the middle of his second piece of toast when he hears his mom gets up as well. She enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the coffee machine. Marti would gladly do the same, if only he was allowed to drink coffee. His mom has decided that twelve years old isn’t old enough and that it could mess with his still developing brain and body. She looks over to her son, smiles, then notices the dark circles under his eyes. She puts down her coffee mug and sits across from him, worry written all over her face. “Everything alright honey? You look like you haven’t slept at all...” Martino sighs, and runs a hand over his own face. “No Mamma, don’t worry, I just had a...nightmare, and woke up drenched in sweat. Couldn’t go back to sleep afterwards. Nothing to worry about.” His mom looks worried though. He tries to smile reassuringly, but fails miserably. He’s not really feeling up to going to school today, but he really doesn’t have a choice.

He puts his brave face on, gets up, brushes his teeth, puts on his favorite shirt, and grabs his backpack before giving his mom a kiss on the cheek. “Bye Mamma, have a good day, and please stop worrying. Okay?” She bites her lip, and Marti smiles at her. “Hey don’t worry, I’ll sleep better tonight, that’s all! Nothing to worry about! It’s not the end of the world. Stop worrying and go to work, you’re gonna be late,” he says, before closing the door of their flat behind him. He takes a deep breath and exhales shakily, eyes closed. No time to dwell on his dream from last night, which is still in the back of his mind.

Goddammit, this day is gonna be a long one.

III. Don’t ask me that

Martino’s fourteenth birthday was celebrated a few weeks ago, when his mother drops the topic he certainly didn’t expect in the middle of his carbonara pasta. He made it from scratch, since his mom lost her interest for anything cooking related a few months after his dad left. Martino’s actually quite good at it and his carbonara tastes amazing. He’s enjoying it, when he hears Mamma Rametta clearing her throat, which is NEVER a good sign. Generally it means that she’s getting ready to talk about a delicate subject. He lifts an eyebrow, curious as to what topic she wants to discuss. “Martino, you know, fourteen is an important age. What I mean by that, is that a lot of young people nowadays...” She interrupts herself, clearly not at ease discussing the subject. Marti looks like a deer in headlights; he’s frozen in his seat. He takes a deep breath and braces himself for what’s about to come at him. “You need to protect yourself, honey,” his mom finally says, and he groans from embarrassment. “Mom, please, can we PLEASE not have this discussion?! I beg you!” he says through gritted teeth, closing his eyes. God, this is the worst time to talk about this. He’s already dealing with the million disturbing thoughts he’s having about...well, girls, and the fact that apparently they’re just not that appealing to him. He’s afraid to dwell on that thought, so he just buries himself into drawing and reading. That’s a good enough solution to his problem for now. It works... for now, at least. She shakes her head, the wrinkles around her eyes crease a little more. She looks serious now. “Martino, girls and boys your age are generally very... enthusiastic and go quite far sometimes...without using condoms, or any idea of what they’re doing. So I want you to be prepared, and to never do something you’re not ready for.” “Oh my God Mamma, really? Are we really having this conversation now, in the middle of dinner? Dinner that I made from scratch?” “Martino, come on. You’re not giving me much to go on here.” “No, because I don’t want to! This is my private life you’re hinting at and I’m not discussing it with you.” He pushes back his plate on the table, and inhales deeply. No need to get worked up over this kind of conversation, he thinks to himself, she’s just looking out for him. He knows that, deep down, but he really doesn’t want to think about it. Any of it. Girls, sex, nothing. It’s not like he has a girlfriend anyway. Gio is much more advanced in that area, he noticed. He has had a girlfriend for a few months now, that brunette, Laura. Sure, she’s nice enough, pretty and funny, but what is it with girls exactly? He just can’t see what the big deal is, honestly!

In front of him, Elisabetta Rametta lifts an eyebrow, and just smiles at him, before putting her hand on his. “Is there anyone you like at school?” Martino gets up so fast his head starts to spin a little. He would run away from the kitchen, but the flat is not that big and he has nowhere else to go. “Please stop Mamma, te l’ho già detto, I already told you, I’m not discussing it with you.” She smiles knowingly, and it annoys the crap out of him. “Oh so you like someone, don’t you?” That’s it. He’s had enough of this nonsense. He storms out of the kitchen, leaving dishes, plates, glasses, cutlery, everything on the table, and just stomps into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Thank God his dad actually put a lock on his door, so he’s able to just put his headphones on and ignore his mom trying to talk some sense into him through the door. He puts on music, volume up, and just lays on his bed, eyes shut. God, he wishes he could be anywhere else right now.

IV. Crumbling down

Martino’s fifteen and he’s struggling like hell. Gio’s drifting further and further from him with every day that passes. He’s madly in love with Laura and Marti hates it with every fiber of his being. Terrified to uncover what it could possibly mean, he spends most of his time daydreaming. He avoids his best friend at all costs, which isn’t really hard. Laura and Gio spend all their time together anyway. They seem to be kissing every time Martino looks at them, and it makes him want to throw up so bad. At home, Martino’s mom dropped the subject of sex, and he is relieved to no end. He found a pack of condoms on his bedside table one day after school, with a note folded and taped to it. He opened it to find a somewhat endearing speech from Mamma Rametta, saying how much she understands that talking about it can be difficult, but that she’s here if he needs to talk. And that in the meantime, he needs to look after himself and to use condoms if he wants to have sex with someone. Marti sits on his bed, staring at the piece of paper, puzzled. He notices how his mom didn’t use the term girlfriend or girl, in her note. He might be reading too much into it, but the weight in his chest lifts a little.

Truth is, Martino Rametta has the biggest problem of all time. Last month, he stumbled upon an article which made his breath catch in his chest, and his heart skip a beat. His mom left a newspaper on the table, right before heading to work. It was Saturday, 13th of March. He remembers the date oh so clearly. His eyes fixed on the bold letters of the title: “Italians progressively changing their mind on same-sex marriage: a change incoming?” To his horror, Martino felt tears well up in his eyes, and he closed the paper forcefully. He hated this stupid newspaper, hated Italians, hated himself. He didn’t want to deal with it, with any of it. He just wanted his life to stay the same. He wanted to have a girlfriend, to be straight, to be normal. He wanted to fade into the crowd, not stand out because he was different than his classmates. He didn’t want to really address that question, the one that had been buried in the back of his mind for several months now. It all started in the locker room. They were on their way out of the PE class. Marti sat down on the bench, still catching his breath from all extra running laps they had to do. Only Gio and himself, just because Boccia decided that they were talking too much during class. Everyone had already left, of course By the time they reached the changing room, Gio scoffed dramatically, “Boccia is really a stronzo, making us run all these extra laps! Seriously, who the fuck does he think he is?” Marti chuckled. “The gym teacher, maybe?” he jokes lightly, removing his socks before they get all wet. The floor is disgusting as fuck. The other guys probably got out of the showers still dripping wet. They made a mess and didn’t bother to clean up after themselves. Marti gets up from the bench and his foot starts slipping. He screams, arms waggling, trying to steady himself, but to no avail. An arm slips around his middle, and puts him upright. Martino blushes a deep red when he realizes that Gio is squeezed against him, torso against his back, thighs against thighs, his warm hand right above his boxers. He can feel him everywhere and it’s too much, all off a sudden. Fuck fuck fuck!

“Thanks mate,” he mutters under his breath. He curses internally, almost runs to the showers, eager to drop his boiling thoughts under the water. “Everything okay Marti?” he hears Gio’s voice behind him before he steps into the shower stall. He closes his eyes, back to him. “Yeah,” he croaks, “almost fell and can’t seem to catch my breath! Talk about being in bad shape,” he laughs, trying to drown his shame and guilt. Stepping under the water and cries silently under the shower. He knows he’s known for quite some time now. He just knows that he’s attracted to guys. He just knows. The way he ignore girls and focuses on boys isn’t just a phase. Tries so hard to feel something for girls. Tries to get excited at the prospect of spending some time alone with one of them. But no matter how hard he tries, it’s still not working. Nobody has touched him before Gio. It’s not even a romantic gesture. Gio just caught him before he fell face first on the changing room floor, which could be a metaphor for his whole life, at this point. Gio is being an amazing best friend and Marti’s here, thinking about him that way. He can’t do this. He has no right to. He has no right to imagine Gio in his arms, in his bed, trying to kiss him senseless. Oh, he definitely can’t go there while showering next to his best friend. Naked best friend, his brain not so helpfully supplies. He groans into the crook of his elbow and closes his eyes again. He has to do something, anything, to try and prevent this from happening. He can’t be gay, right?

V. Please send help.

Martino is sitting on his couch, frowning at his biology textbook. His brain hurts, his legs hurt because he played calcio for several hours with the neighbors. His heart hurts because he now has a huge crush on his best friend, and everything sucks, really. Plus, he really hates biology. And he needs help. He grabs his phone, texts Gio, and drops his textbook next to him before closing his eyes. The flat is quiet, his mom has picked up a few extra hours at work and Martino’s grateful for the time he can spend alone. He needs it more than ever these days. His behavior has changed, slowly. He’s falling into patterns he hates, like lying about anything and everything. He’s hiding and he hates it, but for now that’s all he can do, really. Self-loathing has become his best friend; sadly replacing Gio. Gio who is supportive as ever, being the best friend Martino doesn’t deserve. Every time Marti shows up late at school, Gio is at the entrance, waiting for him with a smile tugging at his lips, as if nothing has changed. As if Martino doesn’t blush whenever he thinks about Giovanni. As if he doesn’t want to kiss his best friend as long as he can. As if Martino isn’t betraying their friendship. Marti sighs again, and picks up his phone. A text from Gio. He freezes when he reads it. “I’m on my way, I need to talk to you.” Martino closes his eyes and fights through a panic attack.

Gio knows, he knows.

He’s coming here to yell at him, to insult him, to call him names and to ask him to never talk to him again. Oh God, this is the end, Marti thinks, full-on panicking now. He gets up, wants to scream into a pillow, wants to run away from here. He wants to hide and die in a corner, where no one can find him. He doesn’t deserve a friend like Giovanni Garau, and now Gio knows it too. Marti cries into his own shirt, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He hates himself with a passion, and he wishes he could vanish into thin air. A knock on the door, and before Martino can even answer, Gio opens it and finds his best friend sobbing on the couch. “Hey, Marti,” he runs towards the redhead, who’s crying like a child. “Please, don’t hate me,” he says, swallowing his guilt and grief. “Please, don’t leave me.” Gio flops down on the couch next to him and hugs him without saying anything. What the hell happened to his best friend? Who made him this miserable? “Martino, talk to me. You can’t go on like this, you have to talk to someone, or else you’re gonna have a breakdown. I’m here, I’m your best friend, talk to me mate!” Gio whispers against his best friend’s shoulder. “I think I have a problem,”Marti whispered back, eyes still closed, trying to calm down. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not really, but he feels like he doesn’t have a choice. It’s either this or he’s gonna end up crazy.

Life sucks right now, and maybe he shouldn’t do this, maybe he should keep to himself, but the words fall out of his lips before he can even help it. “Gio... I think I don’t like girls.” A beat. Marti looks up at his best friend, who’s still snuggled up against him, body entirely turned towards him, and he can feel him smile against his shoulder. “Okay,” Gio says slowly, his eyes sincere, and full of affection. “Why do you say you have a problem then?” Martino feels tears welling up, and he swallows against the lump in his throat. A weight is lifted off his chest, and he feels like he can breathe again. “Gio, come on. You know as well as I do that it’s gonna be painful. And hard. And people are gonna hate me. And call me names.” Before he can even finish his sentence, Giovanni stands up, looking angry. “Like hell they will, Marti! Do you think I won’t be there for you? Do you think I’d leave you once I knew that you were gay?” Marti recoils. He hates that word. It embodies hate and fear, and he’s scared of it, more than he’s willing to admit. “Don’t say that,” Gio says, softly. He flops back down on the couch next to Martino, and grabs his shoulder. “Don’t think for a second there that I’m gonna leave you alone to fight this through. What kind of a friend do you think I am?” Marti smiles through his tears. He’s exhausted, all of a sudden. Coming out for the first time of his life, to Giovanni Garau, his best friend, was definitely the right choice.

#skam #skam remakes #skam italia #friendship #friendship fic #my fic #fanfiction #fanfic #skam italia fanfiction #martino rametta #giovanni garau #marti & gio #bromance #mamma rametta #part one

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saiilorstars · 5 years ago

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The Beginning of Everything

Ch. 18: The Medicine Man

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor

(OC Renata’s Face claim: Marjorie de Sousa) (Gabby’s face claim: Victoria Moroles)

// Story Masterlist //

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DISCLAIMER: This chapter’s plotline is from Doctor Who’s comic stories. Most of the dialogue is directly written from the comic. The plot is NOT mine.

Chapter Summary: The Doctor and Renata have brought their companions to the very early days of Earth. While the Doctor tries to get back in Renata's good graces -- after pulling a very small bit with her -- he suffers and injury that renders him unconscious, leaving Renata fully in charge.

When Renata woke up, she was almost immediately swept away from her room by Donna. It was breakfast time but Renata kept pointing out that she hadn't yet made breakfast for anyone. Donna didn't seem to mind as she brought the Time Lady down the hallway until they reached the kitchen...where breakfast had already been served.

"What...is going on?" Renata's eyes were wide as she took in the table set up with different breakfast plates. She saw a few pancakes stacked in the middle of the table, a neat file of toast on another plate, fresh strawberries, apples and berries in a bowl. There were even a few crepes in the corner that, while oddly shaped, did look pretty good. The Doctor and Gabby stood beside the table seeming far too innocent for Renata's liking. "What did you do?"

"Breakfast!" the two chorused together with the same grin on their faces.

"What?" Renata glanced at Donna for some additional information, but the ginger shrugged.

"Don't look at me. They already had this done when I came in."

Renata shifted from one foot to the other. "I don't understand..."

The Doctor smiled at her and walked up to her. "What's to understand? Gabby and I thought you always make breakfast for us-"

"And delicious dinners!" Gabby added with a raised finger in the air.

"-and we just thought it was time we made something for you," the Doctor took Renata's hand and led her to the table. He watched her study the plates with such a shock on her face. It was almost as if nobody had ever done something like that for her. "Renée?"

"Hmm?" she raised her head, meeting his gaze to show sparkling eyes. "Oh, um...thank you." She brought her other hand to cover his hand holding hers. "Really, thank you."

The Doctor wouldn't admit to himself the strange rush he felt when Renata touched his hand, much less when she smiled at him. He would also not admit to the feeling he got when Renata pulled her hands away from him, even when she'd only done it to thank Gabby next. He was being too weird, even for himself.

"You two are wonderful," Renata gave Gabby a hug. "I didn't think the Doctor was capable of cooking-"

"Hey!" went the man in question, frowning while the others giggled.

"But I should've known you, Gabriella, would have inherited your family's cooking abilities. Well done."

"Well, Mom taught me a few things here and there but it's just breakfast," Gabby shrugged. "Mom knows how to do the best stuff though."

"Still, I'm really thankful for this sweet gesture," Renata looked between the two responsible for the meal, though it lasted very short because of the blush that'd run through her face. It's just breakfast don't twist things, she berated herself.

"Sit," Gabby ushered Renata to take the open seat in front of her.

"Don't mind if I do," Donna gladly said and grabbed a seat for herself.

As Renata looked over the plates, she admitted that most of it - if not all of it - smelled pretty good. Her eyes perked up even more at the sight of her favorite ingredients for the best breakfast ever. She grabbed a piece of toast then spread butter over it to finally top it off with sugar.

"I guess now I know where you got that from, huh?" the Doctor quietly asked her.

Renata froze just as she was about to take a bite out of the toast. Zuriah had loved this precise breakfast and so now it was only logical for the Doctor to believe that 'Zuriah' taught Renata about it.

"Y-yeah," Renata ultimately nodded.

"My Mom eats toast like that," Gabby pointed happily when she noticed Renata's plate. "I love it too." Renata nodded, grateful that Gabby was unknowingly moving the subject along.

"Alright, so where are we going today?" Donna then asked in-between bites of her pancakes.

"I dunno, where do you want to go?" the Doctor returned the question and watched the ginger consider her many, many options. She ultimately chose the past.

"But none of that New York or ancient Greece thing! I want something different!"

The Doctor thought about the possible places he could bring them. He crossed gazes with Renata who, like Donna and Gabby, was patiently waiting for him to make a decision. "How's about we turn it into a real life lesson?"

Gabby perked up knowing he meant her. If this trip would be a chance for her to learn something, it gave ample chance for Renata to tell the Doctor about her fate's prediction. Gabby really hoped Renata would reconsider the idea of keeping it all a secret because, frankly, it wasn't working for Gabby. In fact, it was driving her crazy.

And the worst part was that the Doctor and Donna were beginning to suspect there was something going on with Gabby. Twice she had come very close to spilling the secret. She understood Renata wanted to keep it away in case it meant nothing but...there was also the chance that this meant something and that something would lead to Renata's death. The Doctor already discovered that Renata had been contaminated with alien energy. That was something alright, and still Renata hadn't told the Doctor what the Ood predicted for her. Maybe, just maybe, if Renata spent some time with the Doctor, she would be more inclined to tell him what was going on.

Gabby could only hope.

~0~

Things had started off nicely. A calm - yet very cold and snowy - Earth landscape was the exterior of the group's latest adventure. It wasn't as cold as the Ood planet, but Gabby and Donna did have to bundle up a bit more than usual. When Gabby wondered why neither Renata nor the Doctor seemed that bothered by the cold - since the former had only a thin pink coat while the latter had his usual brown trench coat - Renata explained they were less susceptible to cold and heat.

One new thing Gabby learned.

They spent the entire day wandering through the forest, gazing upon odd ancient creatures roaming around.

"It's so weird seeing a woolly mammoth in person," Gabby chuckled, though it was strained on account of her having to peer over a small rocky hill. "The only ones I know of are from that movie the Ice Age."

Donna scoffed beside her. "That kiddie movie?"

"...I'm 19 Donna." Gabby's cold cheeks flamed with embarrassment but Donna didn't make of the remarks her family usually would. She still liked watching kids' movies and there honestly shouldn't be anything wrong with it! They were quite funny!

"They're pretty huge though," Donna remarked. "Although I thought they would be bigger than your usual elephant."

"That's a misconception," called Renata from below. She and the Doctor were standing right in front of the cliff Gabby and Donna were on. She had her arm wrapped around the Doctor's and it'd been like that ever since they stepped out of the TARDIS. Each time she thought about how long they'd just been casually linking their arms but she felt quite comfortable, very...at home.

"What?" called Donna.

"I, uh, said that was a misconception. Woolly Mammoths are no bigger than your typical African Elephants," Renata clarified and was immediately subjected to bemused looks from the trio. "What? I read. Plus, ancient creatures on Earth are fascinating."

"Oh, so now you think this planet's fascinating?" the Doctor couldn't help the smirk that played on his lips.

"Don't get started," Renata held her free hand at him, motioning that he better stop right there. "I think some things are fascinating. I pick and choose. Woolly Mammoths are one."

Gabby snorted from her spot, choosing to ignore Renata's scolding huff as she gazed back to the snowy field. "They're really beautiful."

"Yeah," Donna agreed with a content sigh. Sometimes it was nice to stop all the running about in space and the future. It gave them a chance to admire the beautiful sceneries they had the privilege to see. The Doctor and Renata brought her and Gabby to a real past trip - the Neanderthal era or the 'Pleistocene Epoch' as the Doctor said (but she couldn't pronounce it).

"C'mon down," Renata instructed to the two after a few more minutes of watching the mammoth herd. "And be careful please."

The women climbed back down and offered the Time Lords to take their chance but Renata flatly refused.

"With my luck, I'd fall," she shook her head and told them they should keep walking. "Evening is going to come by soon so whatever we're going to see, we better do it now so we can start heading back for the TARDIS."

So, they walked again.

"I keep thinking a dinosaur's going to pop in on us," Donna shivered after a particular cold breeze hit them.

"Don't be silly Donna. Dinosaurs are extinct by this point in time," the Doctor said, stopping by a fallen, thick branch. "Oh look at that!" Gabby and Donna hurried around him and Renata but the latter let out a shriek that made a spiky little creature run to the other side of the branch.

"Don't be alarmed, Renée," the Doctor straightened up and patted her hand curled around his arm. "It's an ancestor of hedgehogs. A tenrec!"

Gabby and Donna were quick to snicker behind the Time Lady. Hearing them, Renata snapped her head at them. "Shut it!"

"It's harmless," the Doctor assured her.

"Yeah? Then you go pick it up," Renata said without thinking, because if she had been thinking about it she wouldn't have said such a foolish thing. The Doctor would take it as a challenge.

"I will," he, predictably, said.

"No, wait, Doctor!" Renata said as he was already pulling his arm out of her hold. "Doctor, I didn't mean it - get back here!"

The Doctor smirked at her and hopped over the branch. He followed the branch to the edge and squatted down in front of the tenrec which, in all honesty, couldn't have been bigger than his palm.

"Doctor, maybe Ren's right," Gabby crinkled her nose at the spiky creature. "You might get poked. We should leave it alone."

"Let him touch it, see what happens," Donna smirked similarly to the Doctor.

Renata almost smacked her forehead - those two were definitely a good match when it came to being reckless. At least her companion seemed to have caught onto sensibility. Gabby was right at her side while Donna drifted towards the Doctor.

"There we are, hi there!" the Doctor had the tenrec on his palm. He straightened up and moved around the branch to show the women the harmless creature. "You wouldn't hurt anyone, would you?"

"He's kind of cute," Donna admitted when the Doctor had come beside her. "Though you can't make me hold it!"

"Gabby, Renata, come see," the Doctor carefully let the tenrec crawl to his other palm.

"I am not getting close to it," Renata crossed her arms, almost sounding like she was huffing.

"No reason to be afraid of it-"

"I am not afraid of it!"

"Then come look at it."

"I don't want to."

The Doctor couldn't help the small smirk tugging at his lips. "Renata, it's not bigger than my palm. You're a grown woman, I promise you that it will not hurt you. Don't be afraid."

Renata's eyes blazed with anger at his disbelief. "I am not afraid!"

Donna shared a knowing smile with Gabby. She was too afraid.

"I'm not standing for this!" Renata exclaimed and, with an actual huff now, she started walking in the direction they'd come in.

"Oh, Renata!" the Doctor chuckled and carefully set the tenrec back on the branch. "Take care dear," he said to it then rushed off behind Renata. "Renée, come back."

"I'm going back to the TARDIS!"

But as much as she would've liked to stomp quickly, the snow-covered ground had another thing to say. It eventually led to the Doctor being able to grab her arm and stop her.

"Very mature for a 700 year old Time Lady," his mouth twitched as if he was restraining himself...and he was. He wanted to smirk at her for her behavior but doing that would just make her want to keep walking away. "How's about we get some snacks?"

Renata pulled her arm from his grip and huffed. "There's no snacks around here you idiot."

"Yeah there are, look!" the Doctor pointed up above them. Renata raised her head to see dangling apples from the trees. "I bet I can get some down for us."

"Please don't," Renata returned her gaze to him, now clear of anger but with concern quickly filling her features.

"I can do it, no problem!"

"Do what?" Donna asked once she and Gabby caught up with them.

"The Doctor wants to get some apples down for us," Renata wearily eyed the man heading for the closest tree.

"Oh! I could do with an apple!" Gabby's eyes gleamed at the idea of a fresh apple after so much walking.

"Doctor, these are some very tall trees," Renata warned but the Doctor was already climbing his way up a tree.

"I have climbed trees, you know," he calmly called from above. She rolled her eyes. "Get ready to catch some apples." He reached for a branch on his left side and started shaking it as much as he could.

"They're not falling!" Donna frowned, unimpressed with his hunting skills. "We'd starve if food was up to you."

The Doctor paused to glower down at her. "Thanks." He sucked in a deep breath and attempted to entirely move to the branch.

"Doctor, please be careful," he heard Renata's pleas. She honestly worried too much over them, but that was just her.

He successfully got on the branch but he could feel it wobbling with his weight. He needed to be quick about it so he started pushing the apples off its roots so they could fall. He smiled when he started hearing Gabby's gleeful cries after catching an apple.

"Doctor, get down now!" came Renata's cry.

"Yeah, alright!" He managed to stand up and, for a minute, paused to admire the snowy land. "You know, the sight is pretty beautiful from up here."

"DOCTOR!"

He winced. He better get down or Renata might self-combust one of these days. It was fairly amusing how quickly her rosy face would redden whenever he would irritate her, but sometimes he wondered if she would actually burst from all their episodes.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he stepped towards the stump he'd have to climb down on but the branch wobbled and sent his right foot to the side. "Ah!" he cried and scrambled to grab onto another. His hands flailed for the stump but in his attempts to grab it, his forehead hit the bark instead and down he went.

"Doctor!" Renata cried when she saw the Doctor's body falling down. Their companions screamed when he crashed onto the ground, splashing snow bits all over them. "No, no, no, no!" Renata hurried to his side, letting her knees fall to the ground next to his head. Straightaway she could see an ugly gash across his forehead. Renata's hands trembled as they checked him for any other injuries.

"Is he going to be alright?" Donna worriedly watched Renata pull her hand from under the Doctor's head. She, and Gabby, gasped when they saw blood dripping from Renata's fingers.

"Oh my God!" Gabby's hands flung to her mouth. "What do we do!? What do we do!?"

"Shush," Renata hissed. She was about to push some of her hair out of her face when she remembered the blood on her fingers. With a sigh, she flapped her hand to get rid of it. "He's out could and the TARDIS is too far away to carry him to.

"Okay, so what do we?" asked Donna. Her eyes were scanning their immediate area with fear. "We we can't exactly stay here can we? It's the olden ages - there could be dinosaurs!"

Renata rolled her eyes. "For the last time, we are not in the dinosaur age, Donn! There are no dinosaurs!"

"Renata, what do we do?" Gabby bent down beside the Time Lady. She could Renata was afraid as well, perhaps not on the same level as Donna, but she was still afraid. They needed to help her, not add more to her problems.

"We need some extra muscle," Renata decided after a few minutes of pondering. "Go find anyone - literally anyone - and get them here. If we're lucky we might be near some type of civilization we can camp out at before the cold really strikes."

"Okay," Gabby straightened on her feet and moved towards Donna.

"What are you going to do?" Donna inquired from the Time Lady.

"What I need to do: stay with him," Renata looked down at the Doctor and smiled softly. "I can't leave him alone." Not again.

~0~

It was nearing sunset when Gabby and Donna returned with help. It was one lone man but he was strong enough and, apparently, a doctor as well.

"Is that a wolf?" Renata panicked the moment she saw the gray creature roaming around them.

"He's good, Ren," Donna made a nod at the man with them. "Comes with him."

"I know of none like you," the man remarked as he studied the group one by one. "But I have seen many strange things over the past few moon tides."

"I'll file that under 'explain later'. Right now, would you please help us?" Renata rose from the ground. "He really is-" she gestured to the Doctor, "-a smart man but he just does...incredibly stupid stuff." And said stupid stuff could be stemmed back to her because he'd gone off climbing trees to get apples down for her in an attempt to get back on her good side.

The man bore no expression that would indicate whether or not he would definitely help. He bent down beside the Doctor, checking on the two injuries he sustained but he never made a comment. It made Renata nervous. What she was supposed to do if he refused in the end?

"I have fresh water and healing herbs," the man suddenly said. "We'll bathe your friend's wounds."

Donna loudly sighed in relief. "Oh thank God. For a second I thought you said 'bathe him'! I did not sign up for that!"

Renata shook her head, wanting to be upset for Donna's imprudence but she found it hard not to laugh instead.

"Your friends said he is a medicine man," the man looked directly at Renata. "You did not leave him. I assume you are you his wife?"

Renata's eyes widened, comically if Gabby had to describe it. "I am not not."

"You sure act like a married couple," Donna mumbled behind her.

"Stop talking," Renata hissed and addressed the man instead. "I am not his wife, but I am a very close friend. You will help us, then?"

The man nodded. "Of course. Your friend needs rest. My home is far but I know a place we can shelter."

"Please lead the way," Renata urgently said.

The man easily picked up the Doctor's body and led the way through the woods. At least it seemed like he knew the area because in two minutes he had led them out of the maze of trees and onto a clear plain.

"I too am a healer, a Shaman," the man began to share with them. Perhaps it was a way to warm up to the three women who continued looking nervous. "Though some would say I am not a wise man."

"Then you would definitely get along with the Doctor," Renata was the first to respond.

"What's your name?" Gabby peered in front of Renata to see the man.

"I'm Munmeth, of the Wolf Tree Clan."

"Nice to meet you," Gabby grinned and even waved. "I'm Gabby. That's Donna and this is Renata."

"What were you doing so far into the woods?" Munmeth asked.

"Gabby thought it would be a fun idea to explore the woods," Donna tugged her coat closet to her. "It was not."

"What - we did see some cool stuff!" Gabby exclaimed. "Remember that bee hive? Those could not be just bees!"

"They weren't," Renata confirmed. "Ancestors of bees."

"Bees?" mused Munmeth. "Ah, like the makers of honey? That's why you are scented so. Longclaw - my wolfhound - she likes your smell."

Renata's eyes widened when she noticed the wolf right behind them. "Oh... that's nice." She wasn't really one for animals in this incarnation.

"She's kinda cute," Gabby admitted but Renata immediately scolded her.

"Don't touch her!"

Munmeth brought them into a deep cave and carefully settled the Doctor on the ground. He started using some herbs for the cuts on his forehead and under his head. Renata was right behind him, watching every movement of his as if to make sure he wasn't further hurting the Doctor.

"He should be fine," Munmenth declared after what seemed like an eternity for Renata.

"Really?" Renata didn't waste a moment and quickly bent down beside the Doctor.

"He will probably sleep for the night but he will wake up," Munmeth assured her and the others. "I will bring something to eat for you all. Do not leave the cave."

"No problem," promised Donna as she scuttled into a deeper crook of the cave to get some warmth.

Before he left, Munmeth created a fire so they could keep warm. Donna and Gabby settled around it while Renata remained by the Doctor's side.

"So, what exactly is our plan now?" Donna asked Renata a few minutes after they were left alone.

The Time Lady did not answer as she was tending to the Doctor on the ground. Her fingers gingerly grazed the deep cut across his forehead but even that still left her fingertips with some blood. Munmeth had helped the injuries dry up but still seeing the cuts made Renata feel like there was still something wrong with the Doctor. She couldn't stand it.

"Sorry Doctor, she whispered when she had made her choice. She wasn't sure how the Doctor would react to it but why debate when it was the only sensible, reasonable thing to do?

She readied her right hand and let it hover over the Doctor's forehead. As soon as it started glowing orange, Gabby and Donna went wide eyed.

"What's happening!?" Gabby was concerned and, first and foremost, scared now Renata was getting hurt too.

"I'm just helping the healing process go quicker," Renata said quietly. She could feel her regeneration energy oozing from her fingertips and she was mighty relieved to see the cut on the Doctor's forehead closing up. She then slid her hand under his head and let her fingers search for the second cut. In another moment, she would've blushed like mad raking her fingers through his hair. But right now, she just wanted him to be okay. In a matter of seconds, he was completely healed.

"Is he going to wake up now?" Donna asked afterwards.

"No, it was still a pretty harsh fall but at least this way I know for sure he'll be okay," Renata smiled at the unconscious man. "He's had plenty worse without me and he's survived."

Donna watched the woman as she took off her pink coat and rolled it up into a pseudo-pillow to put under the Doctor's head. It was done in such a tender way that Donna just had to ask, "How long have you truly known the Doctor?"

The question was startling until Renata remembered that there was no way Donna could know anything about her first incarnation. "What do you mean, Donna? I've known him for about a year."

"Nu-uh," Donna wasn't afraid to scoff and correct her. "The way you treat him - especially right now - tells me that you have known him far longer than just a year."

"Well if you want to be technical then I guess it'd be 2 years what with the whole year-that-never-happened," shrugged Renata but once again Donna scoffed.

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

Renata blinked at the sudden snap and glanced to see the ginger giving her a rather sharp look. "I didn't mean to…"

Donna dramatically sighed and wrapped her coat closet to her body. "C'mon Ren, just asking a question. I bet Gabby's thinking about it too."

At the mention of her name, Gabby awkwardly smiled at the two. She didn't want to get in-between. Plus, she already had a lot in mind concerning Renata and the Doctor.

"Donna, it's really not that big of a deal. I, uh, happened to know a friend that was really close to the Doctor back on Gallifrey," Renata did her best to sound and even appear casual.

"What friend?" Donna narrowed her eyes on the blonde. She didn't know a lot about the Doctor's life on Gallifrey but she knew enough to know that he couldn't have many friends on that planet since he traveled a lot.

"Just...a friend. We worked together at a charity foundation," Renata looked away so that her widened eyes wouldn't be seen. She was really building lie after lie and it was becoming easier too. That scared her.

But suddenly Donna's own eyes widened. "You knew Zuriah!?"

"What!?" Renata nearly fell back from shock. "How do you know about her!?"

"Doctor told me a couple of days ago."

He was becoming very loose lipped on that subject. It was as if once she opened up about 'knowing Zuriah', the Doctor felt more comfortable bringing her out of the shadows.

"Who's that?" Gabby's question broke the silence in the cave. Her eyes were flickering between Renata and Donna.

Before Renata could come up with a practical explanation, Donna made it short and thorough.

"The Doctor's old flame."

"Donna!" went Renata soon after. She hid her face from them when she felt the damn heat return. Old flame? The words brought a wave of butterflies in her stomach whether she wanted them or not.

"What?"

Renata heavily sighed. She brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed circles over her skin before a headache formed. She couldn't believe she was really having this conversation with them. "She was...someone the Doctor really cared for and she's also someone I happened to know. Therefore, I didn't know the Doctor back then but I knew of him."

Donna tilted her head at the woman, almost looking like she was trying to decide whether or not to believe her. It concerned Renata, honestly, because why wouldn't Donna want to believe her? Had she done something to make Donna doubt her words?

"I guess that makes sense but it's just the way you act Ren," Donna's voice softened. Her eyes flickered from Renata to the Doctor and vice versa. "You are the complete opposite of the Doctor, yet sometimes you're so...soft with him."

Renata tried her best not to appear so nervous but her warm face was sure to give her up sooner or later. "I'm just a friend, Donna."

"Is that all you want to be?"

Renata practically froze. Gabby was sure that Renata's eyes would definitely pop from her head because of how wide they were. Renata turned her head away from the two companions, the unconscious Doctor, and took in a deep breath. "No, Donna," she surprisingly answered in one go and without sounding upset. "I am a friend, nothing more. Now I firmly believe it is time for us to rest."

"But we haven't had dinner yet," Donna said in confusion.

"I don't think you'll want to eat raw animal meat." Renata may not have expressed an angry tone but her hard face said it all. She made herself a spot near the Doctor's body and laid her head over her arms. If she was lucky, she would get a few hours of sleep and thus evade Donna's torturous questions.

"I don't think you should've asked Renata all those questions," Gabby spoke to Donna when Renata finally dozed off.

"Why not? Made her think, dinnit?" Donna replied with a proud smirk on her face.

"That was your point?"

"Not specifically but it was a bonus. Look," Donna shifted on her spot to better face Gabby, "I know it's not just me who sees these odd behaviors. You see it too but you don't want to say anything."

"I-I mean... it's not really my place," Gabby said. If it was then she would've told the Doctor herself about Renata's fate prediction.

"Sometimes we have to give a little push in order to get results, no matter how many ugly looks you get from the Time Lady," Donna nodded to Renata. "I've come to figure out Renata's type. She's proper, too proper to do anything. And the Doctor is the opposite. He'll do everything and sometimes that's scary for people like Renata."

"Okay...but what exactly are you trying to get another to do?"

"Whatever she needs to do but hasn't. I suspect Renata is hiding something but I don't know what."

Gabby wondered if Donna was talking about the prediction because, if not...what else did Renata have to hide? She glanced at Renata's sleeping form. Renata was pretty old (technically) so perhaps there were plenty of things to hide.

~ 0 ~

When the Doctor woke up, the first thing he remembered were apples. He'd been climbing a tree to get apples but now he was in a...cave? It looked like a cave. After a few minutes of him just blinking at the cave's ceiling, he started to remember what happened to him during his attempt to get apples.

'Renata is definitely going to kill me this,' he thought and as soon as he realized his thought his mind flashed to the Time Lady. "Ren!" He sat upright only to find Renata fast asleep a few inches from him. He spotted Donna and Gabby sleeping on the other side of fire that was no longer burning, but his eyes flickered back to Renata. She was so close to him - he wondered if she'd been like this all night and he didn't even notice!

Why would you have want to notice? A little voice in his head asked. There would be nothing to it.

The Doctor then noticed Renata's pink coat neatly folded on the ground. It'd been his pillow. Oh Renata. She was always caring for him and everyone else around her, even when the Doctor knew they drove her mad. It was such a kind quality that he didn't see in anyone else. He felt his hearts swell thinking about how she came to decide giving up her coat for him.

So, he made his own decisions. He took her coat and gently slid it under her head. She only shifted a bit and continued to sleep. Then, the Doctor took his own coat off and laid it over her body. As soon as she had felt the extra layer over her, Renata pulled it closer to her. The Doctor smiled at her and decided to figure out where they were...as quietly as possible.

A few hours later, Renata started stirring awake. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her face but she actually felt pretty comfortable where she was. Along with the warmth on her face, she felt an extra layer of heat over her body. Maybe she could stay right where she was for a bit more...

"...that lasts thousands of years and thousands of moon tides under the right conditions…"

Renata groaned. That was definitely an alarm. She snapped her eyes open and sat upright.

"Ah, Renée!" the Doctor was up and talking to Munmeth. "You're up!"

"Yeah and…" Renata yawned, "...so are you. Your head-"

"-all fine, see?" the Doctor pointed to the injured spot on his forehead that no longer bore any cut. "Thanks to our friend here, Munmeth!" He made a gesture at the man sitting near the campfire.

Renata needed a few more minutes to gather her bearings. She slept more than she'd planned to and her body wasn't really used to such a thing. "What is this…?" she lifted the familiar brown trench coat off her body and held it to the Doctor.

"You looked kind of cold earlier," he walked over to take it back then held a hand for her. She grabbed it and got up from the ground. "Thanks for the help yesterday. Donna and Gabby told me you stayed with me. They also told me that you used your regeneration energy on me."

Renata awkwardly nodded and looked around for the two blabbers. She spotted the two huddled near the fireplace and glared at them. They quickly dove their gazes to the fire. "Right, well, you would've done the same."

"Of course," the Doctor instantly said, momentarily startling Renata with his quickness to agree. There he went again making such statements. But it wasn't like he had to think about it, especially when he learned she'd willingly used her regeneration energy on him. That was limited, even more so now that it was just them and she'd chosen to use it on two petty injuries of his. "Thank you," he smiled softly at her.

Renata nodded her head and matched the Doctor's smile with her own. She silently screamed at her hearts to slow down though because at the rate they were going, they might burst from her chest.

Donna nudged Gabby and nodded towards the pair. "That's what I mean," she whispered to Gabby since neither alien had looked away from each other. They seemed stuck in their endless smiling. Gabby could agree in that moment, but she probably wouldn't be so outspoken like Donna.

"Well, thank you Munmeth," Renata turned to Munmeth with a warm smile. "I truly am grateful for your help." Munmeth gave an acknowledging nod. Renata looked around and noticed the cave drawings on a wall that most certainly wasn't there the previous night.

"I'm a signmaker," Munmeth said since he noticed where her looks were.

"Drawing...one of the first and oldest forms of technologies," Renata mused over the odd pictures. A lot of it seemed like a bunch of squiggles and circles but she was sure it meant a lot more to Munmeth.

"I make signs, or fire dances, to try to trap the things I see in memory," Munmeth explained.

"Symbolic thinking," hummed the Doctor.

"I see many things for which I have no words. Yet the way you both speak is as clear as running water. I begin to see your meanings, inside my head."

Renata had to chuckle as she said, "You're understanding the Doctor?" she pointed at the man. "That's a true talent."

The Doctor only briefly glared at her while both Donna and Gabby snickered behind. He shook his head at them and redirected his attention to Munmeth. "Munmeth, my friend, you are so ahead of your time!"

"You're an artist," Gabby said with a grin. "And I identify with that. I want to be an artist too."

Munmeth nodded but he seemed preoccupied with his drawings, as if something perturbed him.

"You alright?" asked Donna.

"These curved things...almost as a full moon…" he traced his fingers over the circles on the wall, "...but flat like a river pebble, each one riding upon the wind itself. They're hunters from the sky. They took some of the river people as they speared fish."

"Speared fish?" repeated Renata. She glanced at the Doctor to see if he'd caught on as well. "The fishing village we saw before the mammoths."

"Mhm," he agreed. It had looked like a pleasant, normal village.

"So, what are these?" Gabby had gotten up from the ground to go point at the red circles on the wall.

"Others," answered Munmeth. "Not the sky hunters. I have seen these only once."

"But we haven't," Donna muttered and looked up at the pair of aliens. "Right?"

"They're fighting…?" the Doctor presumed.

"When they came, they follow the sky hunters and I heard noises like A storm. Little fires burst across the air. The spearfishers called me as they were taken. I know them - Kria, Meerok, Nekma. They called out for help...and I ran." There was a deep sorrow laced with guilt etched across Munmeth's face. It was clear he regretted his actions but even then it probably wouldn't have matter if he'd stayed or not. What he saw was not of this world.

"There is no shame in that, Munmeth," the Doctor said as a means of comfort. It was understandable.

"I ran," Munmeth repeated himself with more harshness. "I am Munmeth of of the Wolf Tree Clan. I've faced lions, hyenas, long tusks! I do not run away! The River people's clan Elder asked me for help, to find others to aid them against the sky hunters. But, none will help or they have been taken. I want to protect my own clan from the sky hunters too."

"Well, lucky we ran into you then!" the Doctor declared happily. "We'll help you, Munmeth!"

Munmeth stared at him like he was crazy. "You will?"

The Doctor didn't falter. "Of course! Right?" he checked for Renata's opinion then Donna's and Gabby's. They all seemed on board, including Renata.

"Of course," Renata smiled kindly at the stunned Munmeth. "You helped us when we needed it. It's only fair we return the favor."

~0~

Munmeth led the group into the River Clan's village only to find it desolate. Despite searching through the tents and even in the immediate area, they found no one.

"We must hurry! I want to make sure my own clan are safe!" Munmeth took charge again and hurried out of the village.

"What do you think happened to them?" Donna whispered to the Doctor and Renata.

"Maybe it's just extinction," Gabby's uncharacteristically sour answer gathered the attention of the group quite fast. She did a double take when she noticed their reactions. "What? I just…" she sighed, "I don't like using the word neanderthal to describe Munmeth but that's what he is. And we all know what happens to them...they die. We, Sapiens, drive them to extinction, right?"

"Gabby," Renata smiled sadly at the girl full of unnecessary guilt. "I don't really think it's because of 'Sapiens'. I think it's just evolution that does it all." She checked her facts with the Doctor, while also silently begging for his help. The last thing she wanted was for Gabby to blame herself of something she had no control over.

"Honestly, no one really knows," the Doctor said. "It didn't happen suddenly. It occurred slowly, over thousands of years. In the end, I think they just got out-competed by your lot. You can overtake evolution by rapidly modifying yourselves and the way you think."

"But we're not better," Gabby shook her head. "I mean...Sapiens... we're... we're aggressive, violent...my lot and a whole bunch of other species out there in the cosmos, right?"

"I mean...she does make a point," Donna quietly inputted her opinion on the matter. She wasn't as animated as Gabby but she did agree on most of what she was saying. "We developed but...are we any better? The way Munmeth thinks... he's a lot better than most of the blokes I've met."

"I think we're getting a little bit agitated over the wrong things," Renata sighed.

"When you-" Gabby pointed a gloved finger at the Doctor, "-go on about how great humanity's potential is, what you really mean is how great Homo Sapiens' potential is."

"Now that is not true," Renata said before the Doctor even opened his mouth. Her eyebrows had furrowed together in irritation. "You have no bloody idea how much this idiot loves this planet and all of its people. And I do mean all."

The Doctor smiled at Renata in wide grin. "Well thanks for that, Renée." The blonde Time Lady rolled her eyes playfully. The Doctor then turned his attention to Gabby who was still distraught. "Time travelers, it gets to you sometimes. Nothing you feel is bad, just...perhaps out of proportion."

Gabby could agree there. These were thoughts she that she would've never had of she hadn't met the Doctor and Renata. But even then she didn't regret anything. She'd rather be here than stuck at home in the laundromat and the restaurant. She would just have to learn to take things in a better way.

"Noomin!" Munmeth's sudden cry pulled the group's attention ahead. Munmeth had found an elderly woman climbing down from a higher ground. "Noomin! What are you doing here!?"

"Oh Munmeth, you've returned!" the woman cried and hurried to Munmeth.

"Noomin, where is Muthmunna?"

"I'm sorry-"

"-sorry? Where is she?" Munmeth asked again, though more urgently. "I told you to go with her to the Shaman's caves!"

"The whole clan did as you said!" Noomin promised. She seemed far too distraught for someone wandering alone in the woods. "Then the Sky Hunters came. They flew over us as we walked. Like great birds, and everyone ran and…" she trailed off when she saw the travelers catching up.

"Is everyone alright!?" Renata quickly asked and looked around for any obvious danger zones.

"Newcomers," Noomin blinked. "So strange…"

"They are friends," Munmeth clarified. "Now where is Muthmunna?"

Noomin got lost in anger. She pushed Munmeth away from her and exclaimed, "I'm sorry Munmeth! No one can help against death! Muthmunna was taken by the Sky Hunters! They were all taken! They didn't take me or old Rigro. He fell and smashed his head and I ran for my life."

"That sounds...gruesome," Donna whispered to Gabby who quickly nodded in shared fear.

"I thought they'd be safe at the Shaman's caves," Munmeth said in confusion. He seemed lost, hope dwindling as the reality set.

Noomin shook her head. "You should all run too!" And she took off into the woods.

"Who is Muthmunna?" asked Gabby, but Munmeth didn't answer.

The Doctor took in a deep breath and exhaled with a "Right!" coming out of his mouth. He pulled out his sonic and started examining the area. "Now this might look very strange to you Munmeth, but this is just a special kind of fire to protect us."

"Doctor, what are you doing?" asked Donna.

"I'm giving us a fake biometric signature. Those Antigrav discs that are kidnapping people are very picky about who they are choosing, so I'm making sure they'll be taking us next time they appear."

Donna stared at him for a few seconds, only blinking as a reaction, then turned to Renata. "What's he doing?"

"The Sky Hunters are aliens," Renata shrugged. "He's making us look very appealing."

"Well I think it's working cos look over there!" Gabby cried out with a finger pointed up at the sky.

The group turned their heads up to the sky to see spaceships zooming by.

"This is going to be a rough ride, everyone," the Doctor warned them as he put away his sonic. "And don't run."

"Are you kidding me!?" Donna exclaimed.

One of the spaceships released two yellow string-looking pieces.

"Energy nets!" the Doctor recognized them first. "Hang on-" Said yellow strings wrapped him up in two seconds.

"Doctor!" Renata called after him as he was yanked up into the sky.

"Renata, we're seriously not supposed to run!?" Gabby cowered behind the Time Lady. She didn't want those string things to take her too.

Munmeth was next on the list and went up to the sky. Renata breathed heavily but she knew this was the Doctor's plan. If they wanted to know what was happening, they needed to be taken away.

"Yes, don't run," Renata hated the answer, but no one more than Gabby.

"Ren, you better be right about this - AAAH!" Donna screamed when the nets wrapped her body like a present.

Renata closed her eyes and allowed herself to be taken as well. Gabby was the last one, but she did try to run for a few seconds before she pulled into the sky.

"Gabby, don't fight it!" the Doctor called from his next prison. Each spaceship now had butterfly nets underneath it, carrying each prisoner like a butterfly.

Gabby squirmed as the strings moved her around to trap her in a net like the others. But one wrong (or perhaps right) move ripped one of the next around her waist.

"GABBY!" Renata screamed when she saw the young girl fall from the net's hold. She shook her own net urgently as if ripping hers would somehow help Gabby.

A different type of spaceship - resembling - a rocketship - zipped by in time to catch Gabby in a blue field. As soon as it had Gabby captured, the spaceship fired against the Sky Hunter ships.

"Doctor, we have to get to Gabby!" Renata cried but their concern was short-lived because each of their nets released two more 'strings' that attached to their temples.

Gabby was horrified (and terrified) to see all of her friends scream in pain until they were out cold. The war between the Sky Hunter ships and the rocketship went on for a bit more until one Sky Hunter ship went down.

"You disgusting impostor," Gabby suddenly heard a voice insult her. Gabby hadn't realized when she was brought into the spaceship, but there was an eerie blue surrounding her.

"I-I thought I was getting rescued here," she said, trying to find courage she did not own in that moment.

"Rescued?" the same voice scoffed. "What a filthy trick "

"Let's just atomize her and be done with it," went a second voice.

Gabby almost squeaked in terror. "There is no trick, possibly a misunderstanding but definitely no trick!" She wanted to stand but the field was still around her and she couldn't very well see outside of it. "My name's Gabby."

"You are not a native to this place. Explain," the first voice commanded.

"Kind of wrong there," Gabby nervously smiled. "I am a native here. Trust me."

"No!" roared the second voice, making the girl flinch. "We already exposed your fraudulent biometric cloak."

"Oh, that was just a disguise to confuse the, we, Sky Hunters. You know, the big frisbees, the Antigrav Discs."

"I knew it!" a third voice exclaimed. "She's in league with them!"

Gabby shivered when the field began to drop around her. Her chest heaved hard once she saw the group that'd been talking to her. A team of...aliens?

"We have to kill her right now!"

#doctor who #10th doctor #ocappreciation #ocapp #dw imagines #10th doctor imagines #doctor who imagines #dw imagine #doctor who fics #10th doctor fics #donna noble #tardis #gabby gonzalez #oc: Renata Cartwright #fic: the beginning of everything #noblecrescentedit

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hollymartinswrites · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 8/? Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Domestic, Light Angst, Family Feels, Childhood Trauma, Adoption, Kid Fic, Adopted Children, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Marriage, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Are Parents, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Catholicism, Richie Tozier Has Issues, Extended Tozier Family, Medical Examinations, Stephen King References

Summary:

Eddie and Richie embark on the most terrifying experience of all—parenthood. Or, the author desperately needed a domestic, family fix-it for Richie and Eddie and it turned into a much longer, angstier exploration than I expected.

Chapter VIII: Richie begins to understand his daughter a bit more and reaches out for help.

There were a lot of things Richie liked about parenthood.

He liked seeing the world through his children’s eyes and experiencing things he had long dismissed as if for the first time (watching Lydia watch Star Wars was better than watching it for the first time as a kid). He liked the structure that came with parenting. It put his anxiety in check and, like the weighted blanket Eddie had given him on their first Christmas, calmed and comforted him.

He liked making his children laugh—loved it, in fact. Making Lydia and Tess laugh was better than making an audience in a thousand-seat theater laugh. And he liked laughing with his children, and was particularly fond of their strange, nonsensical jokes.

He liked the fact that though people complained about how it hard it was to raise kids today, what with all the rampant technology and kids growing up too fast, he was raising his girls in a time and place where having two dads wasn’t that weird. Sure, most kids they knew didn’t have same-sex parents but very few people actually gave a shit about it. It warmed Richie’s heart.

Finally, he liked waking up with the knowledge that he truly wasn’t alone anymore, that there were people who loved him unconditionally.

Of course, there were things he didn’t like about parenthood. He wasn’t crazy about punishments, though he was reluctant to just let Eddie handle those for fear of their kids determining that one parent was the nice one versus the mean one. He also didn’t like extracurricular activities, but he had the sneaking suspicion Tess wouldn’t be interested in as many as her sister was.

He hated germs and the knowledge that if one kid coughed, the entire house was under quarantine. When he found himself wiping down all the doorknobs with disinfectant wipes, he realized all his teasing of Eddie was unfounded. He had turned into Mrs. K. Gross.

He also had a very low tolerance for other parents. Most of them were entitled shitheads who raised snotty-nosed idiots that ran around without any boundaries or consequences. Eddie always teased him for preening so obviously whenever they were complimented for how polite and well-mannered their daughters were in public. Whatever, a victory is a victory.

And finally, Richie definitely did not like how little time parenting left for him and Eddie. He wasn’t stupid, he knew having a family would put their romantic life on the back burner a bit but sometimes, it got rough. Sometimes he just wanted a date night without worrying about the kids with their babysitter but it wasn’t like he could shut off his brain. And yeah, when Bev and Ben flew down, spur of the moment, to visit Mike and his new girlfriend in the Florida Keys, he was a little bit jealous. But then Lydia and Tess had asked for help with building a blanket fort in the living room and he realized, this isn’t so bad.

So no, Richie didn’t regret having kids with Eddie. He loved his daughters and couldn’t imagine life without them. And perhaps it was because of what happened in Derry that made Richie so determined that nothing would threaten his girls.

And if that meant hours of research and more long nights reading than he had done while in college, then so be it. If it meant he woke up every morning exhausted because he had been up half the night digging through forums and links and hints on the internet, whatever. The only thing that irked him about it was the worried looks Eddie sometimes shot his way. But who cares? Tess needed answers.

And of course, the name scratched on the piece of paper the nurse had given him gave no real leads. Whoever this was had no social media presence, not even a LinkedIn. Was this guy a fucking 90-year-old? Even they had Facebooks, at least.

Eddie turned over in bed and groaning, blinking slowly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he grumbled, squinting against the light of Richie’s iPad which, to be fair, was on the lowest setting.

“Reading,” Richie replied. “Go back to sleep.”

“You need to go to sleep to begin with,” Eddie yawned. “What fucking time is it?

Richie glanced at the time at the top right corner of the screen and winced.

“1:32,” he admitted.

“What the fuck,” Eddie said, reaching for his iPad. “That’s enough.”

“Eds, no, wait—”

“It’ll be there when you use it tomorrow morning,” Eddie replied, taking the iPad out of his hands and closing the cover. He placed it on the nightstand and wrapped his arm around Richie’s middle, causing Richie to wince once again. He had definitely gained some weight but stress-eating in the middle of the night will do that to a middle-aged man.

“Come on, lay down,” Eddie said softly. “Relax.”

“I can’t.”

Eddie sighed and maneuvered his head onto Richie’s chest.

“Tess has been fine,” he admitted gently. “No seizures, no bad dreams, no mentioning of anything out of our past for over a week. You can relax for one night, Rich.”

Richie swallowed and gazed up at the ceiling. He knew Eddie could easily feel his heart beating rapidly and he wondered, not for the first time, just how much he frustrated his husband. Suddenly, Eddie turned his head and kissed Richie’s chest, right above his heart. Richie looked down at him and was suddenly struck with the thought of how amazing it was to be laying here, in this house, with Eddie in his arms.

“Come on, love,” Eddie whispered, “try to get some rest with me, hm?”

Richie nodded and laid back.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Whatever you say, Eds.”

Pulling up to the preschool in the early afternoon always filled Richie with relief. Not for the first time, he reflected on how grateful he was that in their school district, kindergarten was also only a half-day. He had no idea how he would handle Tess going into first grade and having both girls gone all fucking day, the house empty and silent. What the fuck was he gonna do with his time?

Richie parked the car and stepped out, his hands in his pockets. He could write more, he guessed, maybe even take Eddie’s advice and try his hand at essays (“You could be the next David Sedaris, Rich,” Eddie had insisted one day. Richie thought he was being a bit too kind but whatever).

Maybe he’d start hanging out with those stay-at-home moms who spend their free time drinking white wine, going to Zumba, and annoying their friends with pyramid schemes. He could charm his way into that group, couldn’t he?

Richie opened the door to the preschool and was greeted by the sound of children playing, a few whining, one crying, and teachers trying to maintain a semblance of order. He greeted one or two that he knew, along with saying hi to a couple kids from the neighborhood before spotting Tess, pouting in a seat.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said happily. “What’s going on?”

She said nothing, just looked down at her hands as one teacher, Miss Lisa, approached the two of them.

“Do you want to tell your dad what color you got today?” she asked Tess pointedly.

Richie frowned. The fucking color system. Tess always had green next to her name but from the look on her face plus the tone of Miss Lisa’s voice, he knew things were bad.

“What color did you get?” he asked gently.

Tess merely looked away and wrapped her arms around her knees. He turned toward the teacher.

“Yellow,” she replied, “for not listening and talking back.”

Richie raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Tess,” he said. He crouched down to her level. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you listen?” She remained silent, still avoiding her father’s gaze. “Tess, look at me.”

She glanced over and bit her lip before looking back down at her lap. She shrugged once. Richie sighed and straightened.

“Go get your jacket and backpack. We’ll talk about this at home,” he said. She took off for her cubby. He turned back to the teacher. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” she said, “all kids have days like this. It was just surprising from Tess, that’s all.”

Richie nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll talk to her,” he offered lamely.

Miss Lisa nodded and then took a step closer to Richie, lowering her voice.

“Does Tess talk about her imaginary friend at home?” she asked.

Richie froze, and he briefly wondered if she could tell that the rictus smile on his face was false.

“Sometimes,” he breathed.

She nodded.

“That’s what the issue was today,” she said. “She was too busy playing with her imaginary friend to listen and then talked back when we tried to get her to focus. She’s quite protective of this friend.”

“Right.”

She must’ve thought Richie was upset because she quickly explained, “Most of the kids here have imaginary friends, it’s totally normal. It’s just that when they use them as an excuse to break the rules, we have an issue.”

“Of course,” Richie said blankly.

Miss Lisa smiled reassuringly as Tess arrived with her jacket and backpack and a pout still on her face.

“Come on, kiddo,” Richie said, leaning toward to take her hand. “Say goodbye and apologize.”

“Bye, Miss Lisa,” she muttered, looking down at her shoes. “Sorry.”

“Thank you, Tess,” the teacher replied gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Richie and Tess walked out of the preschool silently.

He sat at the kitchen table beside his daughter. She was in a much better mood now that she was home and eating apple slices coated in peanut butter. Richie took a moment to memorize how content she looked before opening his mouth.

“Listen, kiddo, I gotta ask, why weren’t you paying attention in school today?”

Tess shrugged and munched on another slice.

“You know you’re not supposed to do that,” he continued. “And you’re such a good student. You know better.”

She frowned briefly and nodded. Richie wiped a hand over his face as he sighed. Fuck, this was harder than he thought.

“Your job at school is to listen to the teachers,” he explained, feeling like the world’s biggest hypocrite, positive that when he tells this story to his parents, they’ll laugh for hours. “You know that. And you don’t talk back. That’s not like you at all.”

“I know,” Tess mumbled, sounding very near tears and sending a stab through Richie’s heart.

“Baby, you’re not in trouble,” he said quickly. “You just...learned a lesson today, right?”

She nodded and sniffed.

“Oh, come here,” he murmured, immediately taking her into his arms and pulling her onto his lap. He kissed the top of her head repeatedly. “It’s okay, kiddo. You had an off day. It happens to everyone. Even me.”

“Yeah?” she asked, muffled from hiding her face in his chest.

“Yeah,” Richie insisted. “I have them all the time.”

She turned her head and rested it against her father’s heart. Richie tightened his arms around her and allowed himself some time to just enjoy. But he had to find out more.

“Tess, baby,” he said softly, “do you have an imaginary friend?”

She hesitated every so slightly before nodded.

“She’s real,” she insisted.

“I know,” Richie replied, swallowing. “What’s her name.”

“Abracadabra,” she admitted after a moment’s pause. Richie frowned. Sounded like a regular imaginary friend’s name. Maybe this had nothing to do with...everything else.

“Sounds cool,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “Do you guys play together a lot?”

“No, only sometimes.”

“But you guys played today?”

“Yeah,” Tess admitted, wiping at her nose. “She only stayed for a little.”

“What do you guys like to play?”

Tess shrugged.

“She just shows me stuff.”

Richie tightened his grip on his daughter.

“Like what?” he whispered.

“My shine.”

“Shine? What’s that?”

Tess sat back in her father’s lap and gazed up at him, confused.

“My magic,” she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Your magic that...helps you see things? Like me and Daddy as little boys?” Richie asked slowly.

She nodded.

“What does she show you?”

Tess hesitated, then tilted her head to the side, and raised one hand to rest along her father’s face. All at once, the air rushed out of Richie’s lungs, as if he was in a vacuum. He was no longer in their kitchen, but everywhere at once, flashes of memories and images swirling past his eyes like trees when you speed down the highway.

He caught glimpses of himself as a child, Eddie with his broken arm, Bowers shouting at him in the arcade, stepping on stage and bombing, Edding kissing Myra in City Hall, Neibolt collapsing, Eddie pale and coughing up blood, screams and tears and laughter, Tess as a baby—before he had ever known her, Lydia pushing her sister to the ground in frustration, Richie and Eddie arguing—unaware that both girls could hear them, the Losers overwhelming Tess with their hugs and kisses when they first met her, Richie floating, the MRI machine. All of it streamed past in a dizzying smear of color and sound until, like water in a drain, it circled into a box and abruptly, a hand came down and slammed it shut.

Richie blinked. He was back in his kitchen with his daughter in his arms, her hands folded delicately in her lap.

He gasped, his chest heaving, tears running down his face. He gazed down, slack-jawed, at his daughter, who suddenly looked so much older and wiser beyond her four years.

“She shows me how to stop it,” she said plainly.

“Mikey, I need your help,” Richie said quickly, barely able to catch his breath.

“What? What is it? Are you okay?” Mike responded just as quickly.

“I’m fine, we’re all fine,” Richie replied. “I just need your help in doing some research.”

Mike hesitated. Richie bit his lip and tightened his grip on the phone.

“Is this about Tess?” Mike finally asked.

“Yeah.”

“Richie, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mike admitted softly. “I mean, I’ve been doing some thinking and maybe Eddie’s right. Maybe this is all crazy.”

“It’s not, though,” Richie said firmly. “It’s not because I fucking saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“Everything,” he blurted out. “Her ability to see things that have happened fucking years ago. I saw it. She showed me.”

“How?” Mike asked and Richie could just picture the cautiously curious look on his face.

“She fucking put her hand on my face and, I don’t know, transferred it,” he said, realizing quickly how insane he sounded. “I’m telling you the truth.”

Mike was silent once again but Richie didn’t have time for it.

“I need your help finding the girl in the articles you sent me,” he continued. “They protected her identity but I need to find her.”

“Richie, how the hell am I supposed to—”

“I don’t know, but that’s what you do, right? Research,” Richie reminded him.

Mike sighed.

“And what are you gonna do if I find her real name and info?” he asked tentatively.

“Talk to her,” Richie said. “I’m not gonna show up at her house but maybe I could at least email her or something.”

“Rich, I think you’re working yourself up a bit,” Mike said gently.

“No shit I am,” Richie exclaimed. “Mikey, this is real. And I need your help. Please. For my daughter’s sake.”

“Oh, for fuck...” Mike groaned. “Why’d you have to go and say that?”

“Please.”

“Alright, alright,” Mike sighed. “I’ll do some digging but I make no guarantees.”

“Yes, thank you so much, man. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Rich.”

Richie jumped when he heard the front door open and close and both girls rush to greet Eddie with squeals of “Daddy!” He turned back to the stove and began stirring the pasta for no apparent reason. Stay calm.

Eddie walked into the kitchen, loosening his tie and smiled.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, stepping up to Richie to kiss him on the cheek, “how are you doing?”

“Fine,” Richie answered quickly. “You?”

“Tired, but what else is new,” Eddie said. “The girls have a good day?”

“Yeah, fine,” Richie lied. The water in the pot suddenly boiled over, splashing onto his hand. He hissed and snatched his hand back.

“Oh, Rich,” Eddie sighed, grasping his wrist and rushing him to the sink and running cool water over Richie’s hand.

“I’m fine,” Richie said, wincing. “Lower the heat on the stove, would ya?”

Eddie nodded and reluctantly let go of Richie’s hand to lower the burner.

“Do you want some ice?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine. Not a big deal,” Richie said quickly, turning off the water.

“Rich, I think you should hold some ice on it,” Eddie insisted, gazing at the angry burn on his hand.

“I said I’m fine,” Richie repeated, drying his hand on a dishtowel and trying not to wince at the pain.

Eddie gazed at him, a hurt look on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “You seem jumpy. Did something happen? Something with Tess?”

“Nothing happened,” Richie lied again. “I’m just tired and headachey.”

“Okay,” Eddie said slowly. He turned towards the cabinet where they kept the first aid kit and took out a bottle of ibuprofen. He poured two in his hand and handed them to Richie. “Take this for your hand and your headache. I’m gonna go take a shower before dinner, alright?”

“Fine,” Richie said, swallowing the pills dry. He turned away as Eddie walked out of the kitchen.

Richie hated lying to Eddie. He also didn’t think he was particularly good at it, which was quite funny considering he had lied all throughout his career and most of his adulthood. You’d think he’d have this down perfectly but now, lying to Eddie’s face, it sucked. He didn’t mention what Tess had showed him and probably wouldn’t have discussed her behavior at preschool but they were somehow raising two oddly honest children and she blurted it out at dinner.

“How was school today, girls?” Eddie asked as he served them both.

“Okay,” Lydia said, more interested in her food than anything else.

“I got yellow today,” Tess admitted sadly.

Richie flinched as he watched Eddie try to decipher just what on earth she meant by that cryptic statement before he remembered.

“Oh,” he said, mildly confused, “why’s that, sweetheart? You’re always on green.”

Tess shrugged and looked down at her plate of spaghetti sourly.

“Had some trouble listening today,” Richie said quickly. “I talked to her already.”

“I see,” Eddie said, nodding. “Did the teachers and Papa explain why it’s important to pay attention?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“I always pay attention,” Lydia pointed out.

“I know you do,” Eddie replied before glancing back at his youngest. “You okay, Tess?”

She nodded and gazed up at her father as if wanting to say more.

“I think she’s just embarrassed,” Richie said suddenly.

Eddie frowned but dropped the subject as Tess began eating. Richie relaxed, guilt nevertheless rising in his throat.

Later that night, as they laid side by side in bed, Richie wondered if he should just tell everything to Eddie—about Tess’s imaginary friend, the visions he saw, asking Mike for help. What’s the big deal? The worst he could say was that he was crazy...again.

Suddenly, Eddie reached for his hand and held it gently in the dark.

“How’s the burn?” he asked softly.

“Fine,” Richie said blankly, having completely forgotten about it.

Eddie brought his hand to his lips and kissed it gently in the general area of the burn before trailing kisses up Richie’s arm in an exaggerated imitation of Gomez Addams. Normally, Richie would laugh, but this time, he just pulled it out of Eddie’s grasp.

“Not now,” he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him and just knew they probably looked ever sadder than usual.

“What’s going on, Rich?” Eddie implored. “You’ve been weird all evening.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Richie lied again. “I just got a lot of things on my mind.”

“So tell me about them,” Eddie asked, rolling onto his side to fully face his husband. “That’s what spouses are supposed to do. Share issues.”

“You do that with Myra?” Richie snapped, horrified even as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Eddie tensed and stared at him, shock written plainly on his face.

“Fuck you, Richie Tozier,” Eddie said after a moment’s pause. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is but fuck you. I haven’t done shit to you.”

He rolled over onto his side, away from Richie, and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. Richie clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, wondering just what the fuck was his problem.

The email wasn’t very long.

I can’t find the girl from all those studies. They did a solid job protecting her identity. But I did find more about the guy she mentioned as her mentor a couple times in the articles. It is the same name that nurse gave you. I recognized it from a story an old-timer once told me back in Derry. I did some digging and found out that he works in a hospice in New Hampshire. The number’s below. I hope this helps.

Richie typed the number into his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He took a deep breath and put his phone down. He turned his gaze to the laptop screen, Mike’s email staring back at him.

If he called, he could possibly get the answers he needed for Tess. Or he could literally be opening Pandora’s box, if the vision she had showed him had any truth to it. He dropped his face into his hands and groaned and before he could second-guess himself, he picked up the phone and called the number.

Richie’s stomach was ice as it rang several times and he was about to hang up when a cheery voice answered, thanking him for calling the hospice and asking where to direct his call. Richie licked his lips and opened his mouth.

“Dan Torrance, please,” Richie said.

#reddie #it chapter 2 #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak

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krreader · 6 years ago

Text

BTS reacting to you wanting to get an abortion.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: mentions of abortion (but no actual abortion, they all have a happy ending) ; language genre: angst ; fluff

backstory: it's not that you didn't want his child, it was just not the right time right now. he was still an idol, going on tours and shows every couple of months, was barely at home.. on top of that, you weren't married and you knew if people found out about it, it would be a huge scandal. so even though you never thought you'd ever even think about it, you considered abortion..

a/n: so, because as you’ve said, this is a difficult topic, I’ve decided to give every single one of them a happy ending, because my heart couldn’t take anything else. I hope you all like this ♥

ask box | masterlist | fandoms | faq | multifandom reader blog

kim seokjin

“But.. we only forgot protection once,” he shook his head, frowning at you.

“That's all it takes,” you looked down at your hands, “I didn't think this would happen either, or else I would have seen a doctor the next day. I thought.. I thought nothing would happen. God, I'm so stupid,” you raised your hands to your face and buried it in them, but Jin quickly wrapped his arms around you.

“Stop this, this is as much my fault as it is yours,” he pulled your hands back and tilted your chin up so that you would look at him, “We're both responsible for this.”

“I don't want the child.”

That had him blink at you a couple of times with his mouth agape, slightly taken aback. Because sure, this wasn't planned, but you were both at an age where you were responsible enough to raise a kid. And Jin always wanted to have children with you anyways..

“What?”

“I love you. And yes, I do want your baby.. just.. not now. I can't have it now.. not when you're barely here, not when nobody even knows about our relationship.”

“Jagi, you're.. you're talking about killing our child.”

It sounded horrible and you hated it so much when he said it out loud. So much that your lower lip started quivering.

“Jin, I'm sorry, but..-”

“No! No, whatever it is, whatever you want, I'll give it to you.. just don't.. please, just don't do this,” Jin wasn't a crier. Thinking about it, you've never actually seen him cry. Except for now, “Is it because we're not married? Then we’ll get married. Right now. If it's anything else we can..-” his voice broke and he let out a sob, his head falling.

You knew that if you really wanted this, an abortion, he would let you. He would never force you to have this child if you didn't want it. But it would break him and you doubted that he would ever really get over it. And looking at him now.. looking at the father of your unborn child already crying over it..

Now it was you who wrapped your arms around him and pulled him towards your chest, your hand gently brushing through his hair while he cried against you.

Maybe..- maybe you could think about it again. If he really wanted this child so bad.. then maybe you could too at some point.

min yoongi

He didn't say a single word, didn't even look up at you when you told him you were pregnant. And not even when you said you were considering an abortion did he look up or say anything.

You were taking deep breaths and leaned forward, your hand reaching out to touch his.

“Please, look at me..”

“Do whatever you want,” and with that, he got up and walked out of the room, but his voice.. you've been with him for long enough to hear that slight tremble that he liked to hide from everyone and himself. He might pretend to be indifferent about this whole thing, but you knew he wasn't.

You left him alone that day, decided to give him a bit more space these next days while you finalized your decision on what to do.

It was a day before your appointment that he called you in the middle of the night.

“Hello?” you said sleepily.

“You okay?”

You forced yourself to sit up and turn on the bed sight lamp, “Yoongi?”

“I uh..-” he sniffled and you could hear him trying to be strong, “Did you.. did you do it yet?”

“No.. it's tomorrow,” no answer to that. Dead silence on the other end until you gently asked: “Yoongi? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah.. I just.. I was just thinking.. would a baby really be that bad, (Y/N)?”

“What?”

“I mean.. just imagine it.. a little boy or girl running around. Ours.”

“Yoongi..,” you sighed and brushed a hand over your face, “Where is this coming from? You were always the one who told me we should wait till you had more time..”

“I know what I said, it's just..-” he let out a desperate sigh, “This is our baby, (Y/N)..”

A lonely tear rolled out of your eyes, one hand now over your mouth as you closed your eyes.

It was quiet for a few minutes again, before you could hear a knock on your front door.

“Open up..” he said on the other end of the line and you quickly rushed to the door.

And when you saw him in front of you, looking as bad as you did, you couldn't keep it together anymore. And as if on the touch of a button, both of you started crying and holding the other one.

Yeah.. maybe it would be hard, it would most definitely be hard, actually. But you had each other.. and so maybe.. maybe you could do it. Raise a baby. As long as you were together.

jung hoseok

“You.. are you talking about getting an abortion?” his eyebrows furrowed, “(Y/N), no.. we.. we can't do that.”

“You're barely at home, Hoseok and at the rate you guys gain popularity it's only going to get worse. You'd never see your child, I'd have to raise it on my own, on top of that we're not married, nobody even knows we're dating and if you tell your fans and company that you're not only in a relationship but that you knocked someone up? Do you see all of these problems? That's what this pregnancy brings. Problems.”

“But they're problems we can fix,” he grabbed both of your hands in his, “Technology is good enough these days for me to see the child and you every day, even if I'm not at home. I would try to change my schedule, or maybe I can make a deal with BigHit to bring you guys with me on tour..”

“Before that, you'd have to tell them I exist.”

“I will. And I'm sure they're going to understand. They'd never ask to get rid of our baby, I know they wouldn't do that.”

“And what about ARMY? What about your family? Again, we're not married, Hoseok. This would be a scandal.”

“Then let's get married,” he shrugged, desperation clear in his eyes, “(Y/N), I wanted to marry you eventually anyways, I don't care if we do it now or in ten years. I want you to be my wife. But most importantly, I want to have this baby..”

You weren't as convinced at he was, most importantly because you doubted it would all be as easy as he claimed it to be.. but you could see the determination in him. Determination you had never seen before.

He wanted to make this work..

..so maybe you should too.

For the sake of your child.

kim namjoon

“Is that your solution, then? Get rid of the child, because its' parents were too stupid to use protection?”

“Yes,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Listen, Namjoon, this isn't easy for me either. But I can't raise a baby on my own.”

“Am I invisible? What the fuck do you think I'd do, just sit around and do nothing?”

“You wouldn't be here. That is the entire point, for god's sake,” you screamed at him, “You're out there on tour, doing promo, fansigns, anything else that is being asked of you, while I'm supposed to sit at home with a child who would probably not even recognize its' own father because he's never home! I won't do that to myself and I won't do that to my child.”

“And so what.. you just want to get rid of that one and we'll try again in a few more years?”

“Well.. yeah,” suddenly you became a little weaker in your posture.

Because now that you were thinking about it..

..he had a point bringing that up.

Would it really be as easy as that? Would you not always have that nagging feeling of guilt in the back of your head in the future? Could you really just start a family in a few years without thinking about the child that was killed because you didn't want it at the time?

“Please, listen to me,” he pulled you down on the couch with him, his voice suddenly a lot softer, “I know you're afraid.. because I am too.. but.. an abortion? Just because we're too afraid of the future? That should not be a reason to get rid of our baby.”

He wiped away the tears that escaped your eyes, “I just.. I know you won't be here.. and I can't raise a baby on my own.. I can't do that without you. And we always planned it so perfectly, having a baby when you'd have more time and we could go on vacations and we could take it out on a stroll every day..-”

“Hey, come here,” he hugged you tightly as you started sobbing and kissed your head, before rocking you back and forth, “You're right.. this was never the plan. But plans change.. and that doesn't make them any less perfect. We can make this work if we both put in the effort. We can raise that baby and we can be a loving mom and dad to it.. just like we always wanted to be.”

You still weren't convinced, but you weren't entirely against the idea of becoming parents anymore.. and that alone showed that you were never quite on board with getting rid of the baby in the first place. Because in the end, this was your child.. the child that you would have with the love of your life. And no matter what, you knew that you could count on him.. that he would make it work.

Because he was Kim Namjoon.

He always did the seemingly impossible.

park jimin

When you had confessed to Jimin, all he had done was cried.

He cried because he couldn't believe this was happening and that he had been stupid enough to forget protection. He cried because he was overwhelmed and definitely not ready to be a father. But at the same time, he cried because, from the way you had talked, you had already made your decision on what to do with the child. And so he cried because he'd never get to see his baby.. would never even have the chance to be a father to it.

The appointment was in two days and all the days before you had spent the nights at the apartment of the boys.

But this night, you woke up when you felt something on your belly.

You didn't open your eyes, didn't move, but you knew it was Jimin's hand gently rubbing over your still flat stomach, no baby bump in sight.

And he was talking to it.

“Hey little one,” you could literally hear the smile in his voice. That alone had you almost shed a tear, “So, I just got home from practice. Some of your Uncles needed a bit longer to get the choreography down so we stayed till 1 AM! Sorry I wasn't here sooner, but I hope you fell asleep in mommy's belly even without me here..-”

God, what was he doing? That was so unhealthy for him.. building a relationship with the kid you'd get rid of in two days..

“I can't stop wondering whether you would have been a boy or a girl,” he smiled sadly, his fingertips still dancing over your belly, “Or maybe you're even twins.. two babies,” then the smile faded when reality hit him once more, “And I'd never get to meet either of you..-”

“Jimin,” that was enough and you pushed his hand away. He sat up alarmed right away, almost embarrassed that you had found him like this, “What are you doing?”

“I was just.. I..-”

“This isn't good for you,” you sighed and cupped his cheek, catching the tear that dropped out of his eye, “You..- you can’t..-”

“I want the baby, Jagi.. I..- I want it so bad,” and with that, he fully started sobbing, your arms immediately wrapping around him, “Please don't do it..- I'm begging you..”

Truth be told, the closer you had gotten to the appointment, the more fear had spread inside your body. The more doubts you became. But now that Jimin, the father of this child, was sobbing and begging you to keep it.. it was the last straw. The last straw you needed to convince yourself that this wasn't right..

That you would have the baby. Because deep down? You wanted it too.

kim taehyung

“No.”

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I said no,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Tae.. I'm sorry, but in the end it's my decision.”

“But it is MY baby, too. Or do I need to remind you how we made it in the first place?”

You should have expected it to go like this.. for him to stubbornly be against the idea. He always wanted children and even if this was a bad time, he still wanted this child. And he would do everything in his power to be the father it deserved.

“Please listen to me, Taehyung, I..-”

“No, YOU listen to me,” he never got loud with you. Ever. So even if you weren't scared, you did jump back a little from being surprised at the raise of his voice, “This is OUR baby. The one that WE made, when WE forgot protection. So WE are responsible for the end result. WE are responsible for this baby. Are you listening? It's US. You and me, not just you, (Y/N). And I know you don't want to get rid of it because you don't want the baby, you want to get rid of it because you're afraid of a future in which I won't be here and won't have time for the both of you. But that won't happen. Because I love you and I love this child. And I will be there... for the both of you.”

You were a little taken aback, but you still managed to keep the eye contact.

“And what if you're not there?” you asked in a weak voice, “What if I..-”

“Stop, right now,” he walked over to you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you two, three times, before he leaned his forehead against yours, “None of that is going to happen. None of it. Because I promise it to you here and now.”

But what he did, was walk back into his room for some reason and walk out with..-

“Tae, what are you..-”

“What I should have done ages ago anyways,” he got down on one knee and opened up the ring box, “True, I wanted this to be more romantic, but here you go. This is my promise. I promise to you, that I will be the father our child deserves. I promise to you, that I will be the husband that you deserve. And I promise to you, that I will be there for my family at all times and no matter what, you will always, absolutely always come first for me. You are my priority. You and our child.”

You took a deep breath, before your face softened and you started smiling, “You never broke a promise so far.. don't let this be the first one.”

“It won't be,” he grinned from ear to ear, before he pulled out the ring and was already shoving it onto your finger, when he suddenly stopped and said, “Hold on.. did you say yes?”

“Not yet,” you laughed, “But.. yes. I'll marry you. And we'll have this baby.”

Because how could this not have convinced you?

jeon jeongguk

He didn't say it, but he was thinking the same thing you were thinking in the beginning.

Questions like: “How are you even going to be a father when you're still a child yourself?!” or “The child deserves better” were going through his head.

So when you had told him you wanted an abortion, he hadn't said anything against it.

But now, that you and him were on your way to the hospital.. he was crushed from the guilt and the doubts.

“(Y/N)?” he gently reached over to you and grabbed your hand. He could see that you were crying and he wanted to give you comfort.

“It's fine.. I mean.. I'm fine,” you nodded, “I'll be better when it's over.”

“We.. we don't have to do this, you know?”

You didn't reply right away, but slowly turned your head to look at him instead, before you whispered, “What?”

“Well.. we could do it,” yet, he sounded so unsure, “We could be a family..”

You smiled, a genuine one, even if you were heartbroken, “Could we, though?”

“If it's a boy, I'd play soccer or handball with him if he wants to.. every single day. If it's a girl, I'd paint her nails like the dads always do in the Instagram videos for their daughters. Or I could play tea party with her or dress-up.”

“But Kookie, that's exactly why we're not having it..- Because your work would barely give you time to even see the child.”

“Well.. not now, but in a few years, when he or she is old enough.. I would do all of that.”

“And in the years before that?”

“I would.. take you with me. Wherever I'd go, I'd take you with me. And if BigHit doesn't want that, then I'll personally book your flights and a hotel room in the same one that I'm staying in and..-” suddenly he was really determined about this whole thing. Because he knew. He finally knew what he wanted, “I'd make it work.”

The taxi came to a halt in front of the hospital.

But you didn't get out. And while you pondered, Jeongguk stared at you with big and hopeful eyes.

And then, finally..-

“Excuse me?” the taxi driver turned around, “Could you.. could you drive us back home, please?”

And then it wasn't just Jeongguk that was smiling from ear to ear, but the taxi driver that had overheard everything as well.

And in the end, he didn't even make you pay for the entire ride.

What a nice man.

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