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poppinisperfection · 3 years

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Peter Maximoff x Reader // Hello, Monica // WandaVision // Part 2

Part 1

Post Dark Phoenix X-Men & WandaVision fanfiction. FemReader and Peter Maximoff dating when he suddenly disappears.

Xavier returns and a plan is formed.

Word Count: 1892

Warnings: Emotional distress, mentions of violence, blood, gun wounds etc.

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(Y/n) sat by the screen, her vision blurring and bags forming under her eyes. The analog clock ticked with each second as Hank fiddled around with some tech, and the others sat on the floor half asleep. They had eventually contacted Xavier, and he promised to travel back to New York as fast as possible. That was hours ago, and now it was the middle of the night.

There was nothing they could do, even discussion led to nowhere; nothing about the situation made sense. Metal crashed on the floor, causing Scott to Jolt awake and Kurt to bamf in surprise as Professor McCoy gave a frustrated grunt at his clumsiness. The disturbance didn't phase (Y/n) though, as she read the line for the thousandth time,

"Please stand by."

She was somewhere between breaking into tears and punching every wall she saw. In short, (Y/n) was desperate. After hours of thinking, she finally allowed her eyes to close for longer than a short blink. Her mind was crashing around like a restless ocean, and she found herself drowning inside endless possibilities. But at the centre of it all was his face, his smile, his voice... him.

Suddenly the doors opened with a whoosh, and (Y/n) turned her attention towards whoever was entering the labs. A determined looking man wheeled in, locking with (Y/n)'s blood-shot eyes. An alabaster-haired, umber-skinned, and confident woman followed him; shooting a look of concern towards the group.

"Xavier-" Hank exclaimed with some relief at the Professor's appearance. The bald man gave a small hum in response, but he continued to near (Y/n) instead of making conversation. He placed a hand out and gave her a kind look.

"May I?" he crooned in his English accent, as the (h/c) lady nodded and placed her head forward. Closing his eyes and placing two fingers on her temple, and another on his own - Xavier began to see the whole story, without anyone saying a single word. After a few seconds, his pulled back and gave a sharp sigh.

"(Y/n), I am so sorry." the wise man's voice faltered after feeling the gut-wrenching fear that swept through her mind. The worried girl said nothing, but just tried to keep the strength on her face instead of breaking down into tears. "You've got a location?" Xavier turned to the beastly professor, trying to solve the mystery.

"Sort of- I mean, it's unbelievable Charles." he grabbed some pages and handed them to his colleague, "It's like he's traveled to another universe; I've only heard about theories of multiverses, but this- this is more evidence than anything I've ever read..." Hank rambled on, as even Charles Xavier- telepathic mastermind- look on in shock.

Before anyone could say anything, the old computer screen buzzed and the image shifted. (Y/n)'s tired eyes widened as she sat on the edge of her seat. Even Kurt teleported closer in an effort to not miss a second of the developing situation. A lead guitar began to play, and the opening credits rolled...

The group we're unsure if it was the same show, as it looked completely different in style. But their doubts were cleared when that same woman showed up, slamming the door using some sort of powers.

"She's a mutant..." (Y/n) mumbled, as the others looked on in confusion. The opening continued to play on as more characters were shown - most of which they had never seen before. Then finally, a speedy friend appeared.

"As himself?" Scott added, reading the credits. (Y/n) stared at the title and mentally recorded it.

"It's like they're a family." Kurt noticed as Peter integrated himself so naturally with them. The pair of young boys started to monologue about halloween.

"Halloween? This just gets more and more confusing." Scott rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. Ororo stood beside them, barely comprehending what she was watching. She had previously offered to look after the students while the situation was being investigated, and that lost time had undoubtedly caused her to miss a lot of information.

"So Pete's on TV?" Storm questioned in a baffled tone. The silver haired fellow lay on a couch as the twin boys discussed him, and they referred to him as their uncle. "Okay, somebody needs to expla-" she began, but was cut off as Xavier placed a finger to his temple and transferred the information she had missed. Ororo gave a soft gasp, but ultimately was relieved to be filled in. Since the professor had learned about the situation from (Y/n), some of the grief in her mind was passed to Storm; so the loyal mutant placed a caring hand on her friend's shoulder in comfort.

Xavier chatted behind the group of young mutants who watched the show play out.

"She suggested that maybe Kurt could go in, I told her-" Hank whispered to his friend.

"That would be dangerous..." Charles finished his thought, "But dangerous doesn't mean impossible." the telepath looked towards the blue teleporter who stared at the computer screen.

"You can't be serious, Charles." Hank furrowed his thick brows and stared in disbelief.

"Kurt, (Y/n)," the professor called out, catching the pair's attention,

"Come with me."

-------

The small group trailed down the metallic hallway and approached the familiar doors to Cerebro. (Y/n) looked back at the room they had left, still hearing the distant sounds from the broadcast. Her mind travelled to what she was missing; was Peter still okay?

The circular door released and slid open, and the group followed Xavier's lead towards the machine at the end of the walkway. Kurt's tail wrapped around his leg in fear, as he fiddled nervously with his hands. Placing the silver helmet over his head, Charles nodded for the intellectual beast to flip the switch. Immediately, the room lit up and images of people flashed around. A million conversations ran through the professor's mind, but he was only searching for one person.

"Turn it up." Xavier requested as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Reluctantly, Hank did as he said. Soon the voices faded and a only a muffled conversation echoed through the large room. "The whole way, Hank." the british man added.

"Charles that's too mu-"

"Do it!" Xavier demanded his face contorting with the amplification. (Y/n) gave a soft gasp as the voice grew clearer.

"I think mom and dad would've loved it."

Peter's words reverberated, as tears formed in (Y/n)'s eyes. Despite Cerebro being on full power, the only thing that Xavier could access was the detached audio of the mind he was connected to.

"Where were you hiding these kids up til now? I assume they were sleeping peacefully in their beds."

"Can you speak to him Charles?" Hank asked.

"Something's... Something's not right... It's too powerful to see..." Xavier stuttered out, trying not to loose his connection. Peter's voice continued, as the group wondered to who and what he was talking about.

"I'm not some stranger and I'm not your husband, you can talk to me."

"There's something... dark... clouding his mind." the powerful telepath explained, "but he's still in there, somewhere." he added. The group began to notice a purple hue clouding the entire room. The clearer Peter's disembodied voice became, the more the mysterious smoke descended. Kurt and (Y/n) stood back slightly, scared of what it could mean.

"Don't sweat it sis, it's not like your dead husband can die twice."

The sentence rang through their ears, before the whole room erupted in a blast of ruby red energy. It was exactly like the force that 'Wanda' had used earlier. Energy passed through the mutants, as images of terror entered their minds. Fragments of memories flashed; glowing stones, broken families, and piles of ashes.

Xavier groaned with pain, but he kept the connection despite the immense power that surged through his mind. (Y/n) grasped her head and panted heavily. The image of a young man lying cold, bleeding through bullet wounds, on a pile of rubble haunted her. She didn't know who it was, but he seemed familiar for some reason - and her heart broke at the sight of his lifeless form.

"He's slipping... I- I can't hold on..." Xavier cried out through gritted teeth, "I can't latch onto anyone!" the room filled with a booming static noise as the bald man searched though all the available minds in that reality. Hank writhed on the floor, clutching his ears with the horrible sound. Soon he gained the strength to pull a hand up towards the switch and slowly tune down the settings. The din faded, and the only noise that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the group that tried to recover from the experience.

"I didn't tell you to turn it off." Xavier pulled off Cerebro's helmet and placed it harshly on its holder.

"It would've killed you." Hank rebutted, standing on his feet.

"There was something forming, a gap in the reality, I could feel it!" Charles placed a hand on his forehead in frustration, "It's like all the minds were under some sort of deep control - but I could sense other ones... ones that were free."

"But what can we do about it!?" the beastly Professor retaliated, annoyed at his colleague.

"If I can find the free minds, I can see where they are; exactly where they are." Xavier began to ramble, "Then I can show Kurt, and you can get there." (Y/n)'s eyes grew wide at his suggestion. Even though she had considered it earlier, she now began to doubt her logic. If it were just her, then she wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for Peter - but she couldn't ask Kurt to do it too.

"Professor, what if... What if it doesn't work?" (Y/n) piped up, looking to the powerful telepath with concern plastered all over her face.

"We can't risk more of our lives, Kurt you don't have to do this." Hank tried to assure the German mutant.

"Nein." he responded, "Peter is my friend, I vill not leave him in danger. I vill do it." Kurt nodded his head as he stood confident in his decision. Despite the hatred that Kurt Wagner had received his whole life; he was always the most selfless person in the room. (Y/n) shot him a weak smile, thankful for his kindness.

"This isn't just about Peter. Somebody brought him there. Somebody, or something, has a power that could change everything we think we know." McCoy warned, trying to convince the group of the dangerous situation.

"Which is why we need to know more." (Y/n) interjected.

"I will be able to communicate with you, as long as you don't go under this person's control." Xavier explained, deep in thought. Hank looked at the trio, and finally gave a deep sigh.

"There's no talking to you people." he shook his head, "I'm sure travelling across the multiverse will be a cinch." his tone dripped with sarcasm as Charles placed Cerebro back on his head.

"Have a little faith, Hank." Xavier joked stiffly as he flipped the switch to the machine. McCoy reluctantly turned the power knob and soon the static noise returned, causing a grimace to appear on everyone's faces. The noise flickered as Xavier passed through more empty minds, searching for one that would work. The sensory overload build up in a crescendo, until everything stopped to a halt.

"Hello, Monica."

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anatrik · 4 years

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Folklore feels like summers spent in your hometown, wandering barefoot with your best friend all day, coming home to sweet tea set on the porch. You slouch in a deck chair, watching the sun set, your grandmother's soft voice rising and falling beside you.

She tells stories, histories of the people you see everyday, Old Man James and his Betty. James and Betty, Betty and James who'd been together so long everyone thought of them as two halves of a single unit, a living breathing forevermore. But Grammy remembers...there was once another girl. A girl, with startling green eyes and a heart of fire and desire. A girl, shamefully wronged, disregarded, brushed under the carpet with all the lint, lost socks and cardigans, things we wish to forget. The girl everyone remembers and no one mentions.

Rebekah.

And you listen in wide eyed silence, trying to reconcile the image of the bluff honest old man with that of a dark haired philanderer, trying to picture Mrs. Betty- who still looks at her husband like she sees the 17 year old boy she fell in love with- huddled under the bleachers as Mrs. Inez (that old bat?!) confirms that the rumours are true, trying to imagine what the woman would've looked like, this Rebekah, who'd been able to steal a man's eyes from 'Betty the Beauty' and coming up with a blank because some things simply defy imagination.

"How?", you whisper in a strangled voice

"How can she bear to even look at him?"

Grammy smooths a hand over your tousled head and smiles at how young you are, how black and white the world you live in, how innocent.

Because invisible strings tie us to our fates. Because Betty knew the other girl and the shitty hand life had dealt her. Because James had been 17 and hadn't known a single thing. Or maybe, it was something as simple as a sorry at the right time by the right person for the right reasons.

And the other girl? You want to ask. But it feels wrong somehow, after all these years, her memory still tainted, her grave still fresh, her presence always felt.

Grammy hears the question anyway-she always does. Her voice grows softer, her words come out hoarse and laced with bitterness. And she tells you, about a runaway who had left home by moonlight with a twenty dollar bill and the clothes on her back, how she slept her way through bus stops and shady motel rooms, greedy fingered old men who had breathed in her desperation like it was the finest of perfumes. About a lost girl who didn't know better and the men who should have. How finally one summer, she had stumbled into a sleepy little town, 1989 miles away from where she had started, a ghost town she'd thought, marvelling at the silence. And then...him. They had talked politics and got drunk under the streetlights, spent weekends together and he'd made her feel special, kissed all her aches better, really truly saw her. For the first time she felt like she could maybe put down roots, here where the grass was green and the skies purple pink and blue, here where she had been happy for the first time. And then, when the wind turned and the evenings grew longer, he'd finally touched her and it had felt like a goodbye. When she woke up twisted in the empty bedsheets, she was alone. All of August slipped away into a memory .

The school year was a knife to the chest, her love had relegated her to the shadows, abandoned her to the whispers and side eyes. They called her a bad girl, a mad woman, a whore, nothing she hadn't heard before but nothing ever really prepares you to hear it again.

"What happened to her?" you ask in a hushed voice.

She left. The day of James and Betty's wedding, the whole town and it's cousins were at the church, no one missed the freak. She went back to the city she'd run from, back to that house of horrors, the demons had long since died but their ghosts remained in the walls. But she knew what it was to live with ghosts. She wasn't one to fear things that couldn't touch her.

She worked her way through med school, threw herself into her work, reckless, passionate, determined and burned like a star in a sky full of streetlights.

Then came the great war of men, what your history textbooks called the second world war.

"You were there too?" you whisper in awe.

Yes. I was posted with the 104th infantry. It's where I met your grandfather.

She speaks of the guns and the smoke, the trenches of blood and broken men, the white curls darken and the wrinkles fall away, you see your soft Grammy, but also the steely young nurse she had once been.

She speaks of a young soldier, Bill, and a love set to a soundtrack of artillery fire, uncertainty and prayers. A love neither easy nor inevitable, that they had fought for tooth and nail because it was all either of them had.

She tells me of their early days, back when Bill was just one among a thousand struggling young men,the times she almost ran because it was the only thing she knew. How after a particularly vicious fight he had come after her to find her stood on the cliffside, angry, unsure, screaming at him to give her one fucking reason. How he had slowly unpicked the messy knots in her head where love and lies were so entwined she couldn't tell one from the other. How she'd warned him of the storms that lived within her and he'd weathered through them all. How she had finally found it in herself to believe again.

And then the homecoming, the city life wasn't for them and Grammy had missed the sea. So they'd packed their bags, said goodbye to St.Louis by moonlight. Then the house on the beach, parties straight out of Gatsby, card games with Dali. The quiet moments in Grandpa Bill's arms. Their new neighbours, James and Betty who had moved back home to raise their family. How James would sometimes look at her like he was seeing someone else or maybe a reflection of the man he could've been. How whenever that happened Betty's lips would tighten imperceptibly. How he always snapped out of it. Every single time. He always went back to his Betty. Bill would tell a joke to smooth over the tense silence, the moment would pass. Everything would come back to normal. Then she had your mother, your uncle, your other uncle, their dog, Benjamin, Grandpa Bill's heart-attack, the stories start running together and before you know it gentle arms are carrying you to your bed, a soft I love you goes unanswered, summer ends, it's time to go back home.

When you come back next, the porch is empty, no sweating jug of sweet tea on the table. The house is crowded and smells of roses- Grammy hated roses- and expensive perfumes. There's too much black everywhere- Grammy hated black- you search for a familiar face in the sea of weeping strangers and find none. You huddle close to where Grammy lies. She looks so peaceful. Just like you remember from the last day of summer. People come up every few minutes, mumbling words of comfort to your mother as your uncles stand by stoically. No one says a word to Grammy, which is pretty rude you think considering she's the reason they're all here. They hover uncertainly, then attempt to drift away inconspicuously. Mrs. Betty and Old man James are among the last, you look up curiously trying to see beyond the ill fitting suit and the balding grey head, but whoever James had been at 17, was long gone. He stands for a long time, his head bowed, tears slowly dripping down the tip of his nose. He doesn't say a word to your mother. He doesn't say a word to anyone. But from where you sit you can see his lips moving, the same word again and again, like a prayer, Betty, Betty, Betty. You wonder why he'd be talking to his wife right now. But then you see Betty's mouth tighten.

Becky, Becky, Becky...

Grammy.

Rebekah.

Thank you. For folklore. For these stories. For everything. @taylorswift

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lightdancer1 · 2 years

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“It’s why my girlfriend is my girlfriend as well, at least at the start. Berthier has power over ice and snow, wears her hair in a braid, and loves the color blue.” Now I need a scene where Berthier meets Mai and Ty Lee and Zuko and Iroh too if you can fit in, it would be great to see from their perspective Azula interacting with her family and her girlfriend.

"Uncle," Zuko said with a big grin as Iroh nodded him, sipping his tea with a bit of relish.

"Good to see you too, nephew."

Zuko leaned back a bit, more like the young man he was than the Fire Lord he had become.

"I heard Azula's coming over for a visit."

Zuko nodded.

"And we'll get to meet Berthier," he said casually.

Iroh nodded. "I look forward to it." He found himself surprised at how sincere his words were. They had heard much of Berthier from when Azula had returned as a living miracle. From Azula herself and from her, and their new friends.

It was nice to hear Zuko and Mai talking of things he'd never dared hoped to hear, to see that his family had grown beyond the world he knew. They could 'feel' the vibrations of the portal, which was now set in the training grounds, for reasons of tradition and something Setsuna had said where he had understood every word individually but placed together it was some esoteric mathematical construct he couldn't quite fathom.

Azula and Berthier walked in hand in hand, both of them having a low-voiced conversation full of laughter. Iroh admitted it, it had taken a lot from him to grow into accepting.....everything....about his niece, but it had been worth it. Being trusted with this, with being the first people to meet one of the most important people in Azula's life? Yes. Definitely worth it.

Berthier saw them and then bowed, in Fire Nation style.

In return they bowed in Japanese style, as Berthier saw this and smiled in an amused fashion.

"Good to meet you!" Ty Lee spoke before any of the rest of them did as Berthier inclined her head.

"Good to meet you."

They gestured and she took a seat right beside Azula, neither of them moving their hands from each other.

Berthier took a deep breath, Azula's fingers maneuvering over her knuckles, a quiet set of motions that seemed to either steel or strengthen her.

"So this is your old home," she said, looking around.

"Part of it, yes." Azula's tone was amused, a bit.

"The whole Palace is much bigger, you could fit three baseball stadiums in it."

Berthier's lip formed a small 'o' in response to that statement.

"Surprised you adjusted so easily to living with the Outers, in a way."

Azula snorted.

"The Palace is that size but I didn't exactly go everywhere. My room with them was about twice the size of mine here."

Berthier tilted her head.

"So...." she looked around. "Let me guess."

She pointed to the bald old man with his tea. "Iroh."

Then to the girl with the oxtails.

"Mai."

The girl with the braid and the very wide smile.

"Ty Lee."

And then the young man whose unscarred face was an uncanny mirror in aspects to her girlfriend's, though the eyes were not quite the same.

"Zuko."

They all nodded, as Berthier grinned.

"Azula's told me a lot about you."

Iroh's lip quirked.

"We deny everything."

Berthier made a soft 'hn' sound.

"You do look like a Waterbender," Iroh said, quietly.

Berthier finally let go of Azula's hands to steeple hers.

"So I hear," she said.

"I know Waterbenders can do things with Water, and not just...."

She moved her hand and then there was an ice sculpture of a rose in front of them, one she moved over to Azula with a wry smile.

"Ice."

They nodded.

"And they wear blue."

Again they nodded.

"And I take it they do"-she held her braid.

"The hair's not quite right and you're rather paler but otherwise...."

She looked at Ty Lee who shrugged.

"Yeah. I have to admit it is kind of amusing. Were there no people with fire powers besides Rei?"

Berthier leaned forward a bit and gave her a rather amused grin with her teeth bared.

"My older sister Koan."

"Ah," Ty Lee said.

Berthier laughed. "Yeah. For some reason she ended up liking me more."

Azula snorted.

"That I do."

With that Berthier looked around more.

"Azula told me this place was more shadowy than not even with the torches. The halls looked....lighter."

Zuko nodded.

"One of a few changes I made. Insisted on, really. We're the Fire Nation, we shouldn't be having an issue with too many shadows in our own Palace."

Berthier tilted her head and then nodded.

"Something to be said for that, yes."

She shook her head.

"It's an amazing thing, really. I am impressed."

She then looked at Azula, and then the rest of the people in the room.

"So, even with how big this place is.....could I have a tour?"

They all nodded and Mai was the one who decided to accompany them.

Her face was as stone as Azula said it was, save when she looked at Zuko and flashed him a smile of such warmth that Berthier blinked, uncertain if she'd truly seen it.

With that she would find herself taken through the Halls of the Palace, holding her girlfriend's hand. After the stories, and the nightmares, and the warmth of how Azula had let herself finally react to being accepted and loved by people she'd thought had given her up and seeing that as something she could never, ever take for granted.......

She spent time watching her girlfriend, and how she reacted. And listening to Mai's voice equally carefully. The face was stone but the voice was not. There were mixed emotions here. She could understand that, and the ways that Mai's voice hitched.

And then there was a room with a character that was the same in Fire Nation writing as in Japanese. Kuma, though she knew the name was rendered Ursa, as if it were Latin (then again Azula's own name...). Bear.

Azula was very, very still as she saw the room and the shut door and the name on it, and there was an awkward silence for a while. Mai laughed, equally awkwardly.

"Yeah...." she said, brushing the back of her neck for a moment.

"Ursa came back," she said, her voice serious.

"She's not in the Palace right now," she continued, holding her hands out. "Doesn't want to be, I think."

She shrugged.

"Moving stuff from her hometown, I believe. Had a bit of trouble doing so."

There were omissions there that Mai left out, not wanting to complicate things, as Azula stood at the door with a forlorn expression before shaking her head and moving on. The tension paused for a bit.

And it faded for a time only for them to stop at another one. With Azula's own name on it.

"My old room," she said, quietly.

"I haven't been here in....."

"Since you ended up on Earth," Berthier said.

Mai nodded and then said "Do you want to look?"

Azula looked to Berthier who did a more elaborate shrug.

"Why not?"

And with that Mai went to the door and opened it.

#atla aus #atla/sailor moon crossover

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

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Ladybug in Gotham (and Space)

This is part 2 of Ladybug in Smallville

Marinette stood on the rooftop, fidgeting her hands nervously. The harsh freezing winds that promising the coming of autumn left her covered in goosebumps as her simple black peasant blouse and her knee length red plaid skirt; even with the black stockings. She had done her utter best to look as nice as she could. Her bluish black hair, longer than it ever was before, was tied back in a pretty red bow. She wore a cropped leather jacket and shiny black combat boots that gave her school girl look a nice rocker edge to it. (Marinette really just hoped it made her look tough.) She had simple black purse on her shoulder where Tikki hid from the cold. Her make-up was natural, apart from her movie star red lips. Unfortunately, apart from her earrings, she wore no jewelry to complete the looks as she had been warned about the city of Gotham long before she ever came to the United States. It was because she was in Gotham that Marinette had fighting staff with her. It had belonged to Master Fu. He had taught her how to use it whenever he had the time.

Her Uncle Clark stood protectively next to her. Or rather Superman stood next to her. It was late, but between the overhead of clouds in the sky and the bright lights of the city, honestly, Marinette wouldn’t be surprised if most people couldn’t tell. They had landed, LITERALLY, on the roof the tallest building in the most dangerous city in the world not long ago; but honestly with the building in her stomach, they could’ve been waiting anywhere between ten minutes and an hour, and Marinette wouldn’t have doubted either. Not with the way she felt. Not with the shivers that went down her spine at every shadow that seemed to move and jump at her.

Unconsciously, Marinette leaned against Superman like she used to do with her father when she was a little girl and a scary movie was on.

Superman put a hand on her shoulder and looked down at her with a small smile, “It’s okay,” He assured her. “He’s not as scary as people make him out to be.”

Marinette shot him a look. Yeah, right. The Bat of Gotham. The terror of the night wasn’t as scary as people said. “And Lex Luther isn’t bald either.” The retort earned a chuckle from the man in blue. “Are you sure about this, Superman? I heard what happened with Darkseid. And what he did to Bane. Batman could totally take over the world.”

“Too much paperwork,” A voice growled behind them.

Marinette yelped, jumped like ten feet the air, spun around, and did the one thing she knew cost her, her life…

She wacked Batman in the face with her bo staff. With all the strength and skill she earned from years of being Ladybug, she kicked the momentarily stunned Bat in the chest, the force of the hit sent Batman over the edge of the roof.

It went silent again. As both Superman and Marinette processed what just occurred. Superman’s face portrayed his shock as he mouth was agape and his eyes wide.

Marinette swallowed hard and nodded seriously. “It’s time to go home,” She told her Uncle. “I, um, I don’t think we’ll be getting any help from Gotham, anymore.”

Superman just blink. And then blinked again. He shook his head, “What?” Superman asked confused, still a bit stunned. “You hit Batman in the face.”

“He came out of nowhere,” Marinette defended. “He stuck up on us. Who sneaks up on people in Gotham? It’s his own fault.”

“You kicked him off the roof!”

“Still his own fault!”

“Marinette!” Superman face palmed.

“He should’ve known better!”

The sound of a throat clearing broke up the squabbling Uncle and Niece. The turned around and saw Batman with a severe glare on his face.

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, “This is when I die.”

That got Superman’s attention. He wrapped an arm around his niece’s shoulders, and shot a glare back at Batman. “He’s not going to kill you,” Superman promised, “Batman doesn’t kill, right?” He looked expectantly at the Dark Knight.

Batman didn’t answer, just continued to stare at Marinette.

“Really?” Marinette questioned. “He looks like he’s considering it.”

“You hit me in the face,” Batman growled, his voice low and nightmarish.

Marinette crossed her arms, “You started it.”

It was Superman’s turn to sigh.

Batman stalked towards her. And before Marinette knew it, he was looming above her and she was making her peace with the gods. Marinette glared up at him, fire in eyes, and a smirk on her face as if daring him; faux bravado was all she had to stop herself from crying.

I don’t kill,” Batman suddenly said and stood back. “How old are you?”

“Why? Does my answer effect your decision to kill me?” Marinette smarted.

“She’ll be fifteen soon,” Superman answered.

“Who taught you to fight?” Batman asked her.

“My former master.”

Batman nodded, “The guardian of the Miraculous. Before I received word from Superman, I assumed the Kwami gods were merely a legend.”

“Well, in their defense,” Marinette said, “Where I come from, people think the same about you.”

Batman nodded, “You are Ladybug, the Parisian hero. You’ve done good work.”

“You’re Batman,” Marinette nodded back sagely. “You’ll be in my nightmares for years to come.”

Batman smirked.

“Father!” A new voice roared as a figure landed on the rooftop. “Oracle said you were attacked.” A young boy, not much younger than Marinette, stood in a suit of green, gold and red. Robin, she realized. “She laughed, father. Promised video. She has failed at her job. What is the meaning of this? Who is your assailant?”

“Robin!” Another new voice as he swung onto the room. A older guy, dressed in blue and Black. “You can’t just sneak

“Silent, Nightwing,” Robin growled. “I have come to rescue Father.”

Marinette glanced at her shoes and then back up at Batman, “Did you call your ten-year-old son to beat me up?” She smirked. He glared at her again.

“I am eleven years of age, girl,” Robin snarled at her.

“He’s just short,” Another voice answered as two more figures landed on the room.

The taller of the two had on bright red bat mask and a beat up leather jacket. The shorter was dressed primarily in black and red with small gold accents.

“No one asked you, Red Robin,” Robin growled. “And no one invited you.”

“What’s going on, B?” The leather jacket guy said. “Why is Oracle declaring this the best day of her life?”

“She… is embellishing, Red Hood,” Batman said.

“Who’s the girl” Red Robin asked.

All the newcomers’ eyes went to her. They assessed her. Each noticing her small stature. Her dark hair and her blue eyes. The weapon in her hands. The glare on her pretty face.

“Another one,” Robin roared. “Father, this is getting ridiculous! How many more siblings will you adopt? Have I not suffered enough?”

“Another sister?” Nightwing perked up and somehow managed to snag her away from Superman. Suddenly, she was surrounded by the newcomers. All but Robin towered above her. “Aww, you’re adorable. Cass is going to love you.”

“Did you learn nothing you from last bundle of joy,” Red Robin. “I swear this one better not try to kill me.”

Red Hood shook his head, “You got a problem, B-man. Hope ya warned Agent A. Where’d he find ya?” He asked her.

Marinette blushed, a little confused, but answered him, “I hit, uh, him in the face with my staff and kicked him off the roof.”

The boys, all Robins she realized, just stared at her and burst out laughing. All but the youngest, who still had a smirk on his face.

“I have a new favorite,” Hood declared, a wide smirk on his face and glee in his eyes, as he wrapped at arm around her shoulders. “Yeah… that’ll do it for B,” Red Hood said. “Don’t feel bad, kid. I jacked his the wheels of the batmobile.”

“Enough!” Batman said, silencing all noise. “This is Superman’s niece; the granddaughter of his mother’s dearest friend. She has been staying with his family for a while now. I am not adopting her…?”

“Well that didn’t sound like a question,” Red Hood huffed.

“Yeah, he is definitely considering it,” Red Robin nodded.

Batman didn’t answer them, which had Superman eyeing him. It wasn’t that he minded the idea of adopting Marinette. But they should discuss it first.

“Transform,” Batman barked the order at the young girl. He needed proof of what he’d been told, and then he and the league would make decisions.

“How about a please?” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Or were not raised with manners?”

The guys all blinked at the little girl. A little girl who ignored Batman’s order and demanded politeness.

“Batman doesn’t kill,” Nightwing stated as to remind everyone there, even Batman himself.

“Batman might start,” Red Robin retorted.

Batman cast a look at Superman who only shrugged with a bewildered smile on his face. Because yes, that my niece, Superman thought, and I’m having Barbara send the video of this entire night to the league before I leave this rooftop.

Batman narrowed his eyes, “Transform, please.”

Marinette nodded stiffly and stepped back from the group. “Tikki,” She called. The red Kwami flew out of her purse and landed on shoulder.

“Hi,” Tikki giggled and waved a little hand at the vigilantes. “I’m Tikki, kwami of creation.”

There were a few stunned hellos back.

“Ready?” Marinette asked her small friend. Tikki nodded. “Spots on.”

A bright light encircled Marinette as she was transformed into ladybug. Well, new and improved Ladybug. One of the first things she learned after becoming the guardian was how to change her costume. Gone was the full body spandex suit.

Ladybug now layered ladybug themed armor, covering a black suit. Her mask hid more of her face. She had armored lady bug wings her back that could be used as emergency shields. She still couldn’t fly. But one day, Marinette vowed, she’d figure it out.

“I’m Ladybug,” She introduced.

“Magical girl transformation,” Nightwing murmured in awe. “She has a magical girl transformation.”

Red Robin nodded approvingly, “Ladybug, the hero of Paris. Your fight with second fight again Horrifcator was legendary. I watch the video like twenty times to learn that finishing move you used on it. Used it on Mammoth.”

“Her,” Ladybug corrected. “How’d it work for you?”

“I think you know how it worked for me,” Red Robin smirked.

“Spots off,” Ladybug said and detransformed.

Robin’s eyebrow crinkled, “But Father said I’m too young to patrol on my own.” His expression turned furious. “Ladybug has been protecting a city by mostly by herself her years, Father.”

“Robin,” Batman started but was cut off.”

“She is proof that age has nothing on skill,” Robin huffed. “I demand to be allowed to patrol alone. And I will no longer tolerate Agent Pennywise’s childproof locks, in the car or the in house.”

“Or on the cookie jar,” Red Hood add with a point at Batman. “Viva La revolution.”

Batman pinched his nose. “The Justice League was unaware that the protector of Paris was a child. I instructed Superman to bring her here I could assess the situation and confirmed the villain Hawkmoth to be in fact a magical terrorist.”

“The league oversight just proves their weakness,” Robin said. “Not my own.”

Batman ignored him. “Cyborg,” He said. “We’re ready.”

Then Marinette was beamed into space.

She really had to talk to Uncle Clark about his choice in friends.

Marinette found herself standing in front the entire Justice League as she found herself telling her story again. But this time Red Robin had been helpful enough to provide video proof of her fights.

The heroes of the room looked suitable horrified and furious about what had been happening in Paris. Redhood was spitting nails ever since Marinette revealed most of the monster had been possessed kids from her school.

“You don’t have powers,” Green Lantern stated. Ladybug opened to correct him but he kept going. “You get a boost of strength, speed, and endurance but nothing close to super level. From what I understand, transforming into Ladybug just improves your natural abilities.”

“It’s true,” Tikki squeaked. “You’re faster than the average human, but it only goes so far.”

“You don’t even have super healing,” The Flash said. “You fight some megalomaniac that’s more or less holding an entire city hostage, and you don’t even have powers.”

“You fight with a yo-yo,” Batman growled and, then, more than ever before, he looked ready to kill. “You, a child, with no real background in combat training was sent to fight near invincible monsters with a skintight suit and a yo-yo. All while a magical villain hunts you down.”

“Dying’s a strong possibility,” The Green Arrow frowned. “You said it yourself. The former Chat Noir used to die all the time, and if wasn’t for your miraculous, he’d still be dead.”

“He was careless,” Black Canary nodded. “Master Fu was right to strip him of his powers. He was reckless, let his emotions get the best of him, and didn’t take his job seriously, and always rushed into battle. He had no training and his inexperience got the best of him. I always thought he acted like a child. Now that I know he was, in fact, a child it explains much. I thought you were older,” She told Marinette.

“We all did,” Cyborg said. “We wouldn’t let a kid fight on their own.”

Wonder Woman slammed her hands on the table, causing loud crack to be heard. “This will not stand anymore,” She shouted. Princess Diana radiated power. “The fiend HawkMoth has no issue with the slaughter of children or using them to fight his battles. I will slay the coward myself.”

As much as Marinette really wanted to see Wonder Woman bash Hawkmoth’s face in, she knew she had to say something. “It’s too risky. Emotions run high battle. While I’m wearing the miraculous, I can’t be Akumatized. Everyone else can. Hawkmoth can get inside your head, turn you into one of his greatest monsters, and find out your secret identities. He is coward, but he is a powerful one.”

Her words caused an uneasiness to spread through the room.

“We can’t let you fight alone,” Superman said. “I won’t let you fight alone.”

“No one is fighting anyone yet,” Batman rumbled. “We need more intel on Hawkmoth. We’ll contact Zatana to see what she knows about the situation. With any luck, she’ll know of any protection against Hawkmoth. In the meantime, I will act as Marinette’s mentor and see to her training.”

“But she’s sunshine!” Flash complained. “And happiness. And you’re you.”

Other Justice league members spoke up and complained about the idea.

“Why do you get to be her mentor?” Superman asked sullenly. “I’m her Uncle.”

Batman raised a hand to silence the room. “I am one of the few non superpowered heroes in the room. Superman is frequently in Gotham,” He gave Superman a look. “And can assist in Ladybug’s training. It is only logical.”

“Logical my left ass cheek,” Redhood snorted.

“I knew he would adopt her,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Kid never stood a chance,” Nightwing said.

“He hasn’t told Alfred yet!” Red Robin said with a shake of his head. “How many surprise children is he going to bring that man?”

Officially, or at least as her parents knew, Marinette would be staying with her Uncle Clark and his husband in Gotham while the Kents fixed up their farm a terrible storm ruined. Unofficially, Marinette was the new ward of Bruce Wayne.

As soon as the Superman, batman, Marinette and the rest of the batfamily left.

Cyborg ordered everyone to remain in their seats. “You. Have. To. See. This!” He turned on the video Oracle had sent him.

The sight of adorable sweet school girl Marinette hitting Batman in the face and kicking him off the roof, once again caused the entire room to go silent as everyone processed the event.

Green Arrow was the first to break, “Roy’s going to marry that girl so hard.”

“How is she alive,” Barry Allen asked, his mask down and his red hair shining under the light of the room.

“Batman has a soft spot for children,” Aquaman shrugged.

“Play it again,” Wonder Woman commanded. “Please,” She added with an amused smile.

The Justice League rewatched the video eight more times that night, and nearly everyone demanded it be emailed to them. As far as The Flash was concerned Marinette was his new hero. As far as Oliver Queen was concerned Roy Harper and Marinette would make beautiful children.

Living in Wayne Manor was vastly different than living on the farm with the Kents. For starters, Damian frequently jumped out of random place and attacked her with a sword.

Tim and Jason assured her this was normal. And she’d get used to it. Marinette noted there was no mention of when it would stop. She stopped minding once she realized Damian was using it to better himself so Marinette used the instances to bond with him under the mask of improving his skills. She learned quickly as long as she didn’t treat him like a little kid, he wouldn’t view her as his enemy. Plus he adored Plagg, and the other kwami who basked under his attention. Plagg and Damian were a formidable, destructive, team.

She got an entire room to work on her designs which did as much as possible. Whenever, she wasn’t training or at school.

Marinette went to Gotham academy with Tim and Damian. But she didn’t seem them too much as Tim was in an older grade and Damian a younger one. Damian took to joining her for lunch as he found his classmates to be unworthy of his attention

Dick Grayson was everywhere. He seemed to have made it his personal mission to bond with the newest member of the Batfamily. Dick went shopping with her, insisted on Disney family movie nights, and started teaching Marinette Gymnastics for superheroes 101. And, boy, could he talk.

Jason taught her out to drive. Or rather how to drive like the police were after you. Neither of her Uncles were amused. Tim taught her how to use his motorcycle. Again, parental authority not amused. But Marinette learned one thing, she liked to go fast.

The lack of a proper sleep schedule and the possibility of overdosing on coffee was quite seemed to effect the older vigilantes. Unfortunately for them, Marinette had a low tolerance for self-harm and had no problem teaming up with Alfred to take care of her new found family.

Alfred hadn’t been surprised when she arrived at the Manor. He just sighed and welcome her into the family. The butler had easily taken up the role as grandfather to the batkids and had no problems doing the same for Marinette. Together, they replaced most of the coffee in the house with decaf, worked out a proper patrol schedule for the batfamily, and managed to convince Tim to get more than two hours a sleep a night.

The two got along really well. Like with Aunt Martha, Marinette traded recipes with the kindly man and competed over who had the best desserts.

The only issue between the two was the kitchen. Marinette liked to cook too. Alfred like to defend his territory, and insisted frequently on Marinette coming to him for meals. Marinette disagreed as she felt Alfred should relax more. She said this in front of Uncle Bruce which caused the man to smile for the rest of the day for some reason.

Marinette had met Cassandra her second week in Gotham. The quiet girl and Marinette easily communicated through body language as Cassandra didn’t talk much. Marinette learned to be watchful of the older girl. And with much carefulness, convinced Cassandra to play video games and binge out on sweets together. They ended up painting each other’s, and Dick’s, nails. Cassandra was more than happy to spend time with her “Little sister.”

Luke was the only sane one in the family. Barbara and Stephanie were the insane older sisters Marinette had always wanted. Barbara taught Marinette about hacking. Stephanie taught her how to break in to places, without getting caught. Kate, Bruce’s cousin, took to smirking at her whenever Bruce and Marinette were in the room together. (Every superhero had seen the video by then.) The five of them (Cassandra included), had frequently girls’ nights. That Dick was in no way invited to. (To which he complained to Bruce about.)

Living with Uncle Clark and Uncle Bruce, the batdad himself, was amazing. For two of the most powerful superheroes in the world, they were pair of love birds. Uncle Clark took her frequently to Metropolis and to see the Daily Planet. She got introduced to the legendary Lois Lane and the fearsome Cat Grant. Cat Grant was amused that Marinette didn’t become some wilting daisy at her vitriol. Marinette designed her a dress.

Uncle Bruce was fierce with his training and his research into Hawkmoth, uncovering information the Kwami and the guardians that Master Fu had thought lost in time, thanks mostly to Zatana and Doctor Fate. However, as scary as Batman was to all of Gotham that was how much of a good dad Bruce was.

He frequently checked in what all his kids were doing and tried his best to participate. Turns out Batman’s weakness is sewing needles.

News from Paris always made Marinette feel kind of “Whatever”. She was still being pestered by calls her from ex-classmates. The calls tripled when Marinette showed up at a red carpet, high society event with the Wayne family, on Bruce Wayne’s arm, in a killer pink baby-doll poofy dress she designed herself. Uncle Bruce had used the event to introduce Gotham to his niece, his husband Clark’s niece, Marinette.

Alya demanded the deets on living with the Waynes, on meeting Lois Lane, of living with Ace reporter Clark Kent. She also accused Marinette of lying to them for years. There were still texts demanding Marinette come home. When she wasn’t doing that, Alya frequently send Marinette video message about what a liar Lila was, and how it wasn’t fair the Ladyblog was getting sued for defamation of character. How could Alya know Lila was lying?

Adrien had started texting her again, though Marinette expect his father was behind this as a way to get an in with Bruce Wayne, as the boy seemed to have been waiting for Marinette to extend her usual olive branch. He didn’t apologize. He asked about the Gotham and when she was coming back to school. Marinette ignored him.

The only ones who seemed to have gotten the message and appeared to be genuinely sorry were Nino, Kim, Juleka, and Alix. They gave heartfelt apologies and backed off. Her old friends made it clear that they really were sorry for not believing Marinette, not trusting her, but they wouldn’t push her into forgiving them. They knew they were wrong.

It was because of that Marinette knew that, in one day, she would forgive them. Her heart might not ever heal from the way it’s shattered over the actions that took place in Paris. But Marinette had learned to live with it.

And that was the first step.

#ml fic #ml salt #Marinette deserves better #Marienette Dupain Cheng #clark kent #bruce wayne #batfamily #adrien agreste #Wonder Woman #Young Justice #justice league #jason todd #damian wayne

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Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

This chapter is going to be fun my friends! We're meeting the families today! Next week's chapter is going to go up probably Tuesday, October 13th. Then we'll go back to Saturday updates. Have an amazing day! See you next week =)

Chapter 14

Victoire was unconsciously wringing her hands as she sat in Ted's car that Friday and he drove them to his flat.

"Vicky," Ted moved a hand from the steering wheel to her hands, gripping them in his gentle but firm grip that he always used when she was rubbing her skin raw. "What's wrong?"

Vic stilled her hands, turning one of them over to hold Ted's hand.

You are brave. Her mum's words echoed quietly in her mind. She took a deep breath and ripped off the metaphorical bandage.

"I, er, I was thinking, maybe, maybe we should meet each other's families." She spoke quickly trying to keep her voice from trembling.

Ted squeezed her hand, interlacing their fingers. "I would like nothing better than to get to know your family and to bring you home to mine."

Vic looked over at him to see him smiling. She really liked seeing him smile.

"Yeah?"

"Of course, would tonight be too soon?" He smirked at her and she knew he was teasing.

But even though she knew he was teasing, Vic suddenly wanted to get it done and over with. She wanted to take the fear out of it, to stop worrying over it.

"Let's do it."

Ted blinked as he chanced a glance back over at her.

"Really? Because we could. It's my parents' turn tonight to host the monthly dinner the Marauders hold; it would be my parents and my aunts and uncles; you'd meet the whole lot of Dad's side."

Vic swallowed. What he was describing was mildly terrifying if she was honest. But it also gave her an opportunity to meet nearly everyone in his family at once. It would be like ripping off the bandage in one go, instead of bit by bit, and that was just the slightest bit appealing.

Vic squared her shoulders and nodded.

"Yes, let's go introduce me to your family."

Ted glanced back at her again, and then drove past the turn he would have taken to get to his flat.

"Alright, let's go show my family that I'm not blowing smoke about how amazing you are."

Vic squeezed his hand and hoped she had made the right call. Maybe this is what her mum meant when she called her brave. Vic personally would have called this insane, but maybe her mum had the meanings of the words confused.

Ted seemed to be just a bit nervous as well, at least Vic assumed the way he'd gone quiet meant he was nervous. He kept his fingers intertwined with hers though, and that seemed to help reassure both of them. It certainly reassured her.

After twenty minutes or so, Ted pulled into the driveway of a beautiful old home.

"Last chance to back out," Ted pulled his hand from hers and put the car in park.

Vic bit her lip. Heaven knew how much a part of her wanted to turn back, but she was realizing that she did, in fact, love Ted, and she wanted to show him. She wanted him to have some substantial evidence of it when she finally mustered up the courage to say it out loud to him. So she took a deep breath and nodded.

"Let's go in, I want to meet your family."

Ted leant over and kissed her slowly, reassuringly.

"I love you." He whispered against her.

Vic smiled at him. She was going to say it back, not right now, but soon, she was going to tell him how she was head over heels for him too.

Ted held her hand firmly in his as he pushed open the door to his parents' home.

"Mum? Dad?" He called out as he led her into the small entryway.

"Teddy?" A woman an inch or so taller than Vic came around the corner with bubblegum pink hair and she nearly knocked over a hall lamp when her eyes landed on Vic, but a man with brown hair and a soft smile reached out and caught it just before it hit the floor.

"Hi Mum," Teddy pulled Vic closer to him. "Surprise."

Vic gave Ted's parents a nervous smile while his mum looked shocked and his dad had an amused twinkle in his eye.

It was Ted's dad who broke the silence.

"Teddy, the family is here you know?"

Ted nodded. "I warned her, she said she was brave enough to face them all at once."

Ted's mum seemed to get over her shock and moved to the door, her hand outstretched.

"It's so nice to meet you, Victoire, I'm Dora."

"She's Nymphadora if you want to tease her," Ted smirked as Vic shook his mum's hand.

"You may be taller than me but I can still smack you upside the head Edward Remus Lupin." Dora's hair seemed to almost glow with more intense color as she glared at her son.

"And I'm Remus," Ted's dad smoothly stepped between his son and wife to shake Vic's hand. "I have to say Victoire, I'm impressed with your willingness to meet all of us at once."

Vic gave a nervous laugh as she answered. "Ted talks about how wonderful all of you are. I didn't see the point of spreading it out if I could meet all of you at the same time."

"Why won't our nephew come in and say hello?" A man with black hair graying at the temples and rectangle framed glasses stuck his head around the corner. Vic could have sworn it was Uncle Harry for the brief glance she caught of him.

"Ted's on his way, James," Remus stepped in front of Vic and she didn't miss the mischief in his eyes. "Gives us a moment."

Vic couldn't see James' reaction but Ted grinned down at her and winked.

"I'm afraid we're surrounded by a bunch of boys who think they have a flair for the dramatic." Dora smiled at her. "But if you're ready, why don't we go say hello to our little family?"

"Yeah, I think I'm ready," Vic smiled as Ted moved to drape his arm across her shoulders.

Remus winked at her and led the four of them from the entryway to the sitting room where the Marauders were gathered.

"We have a guest with us tonight," Remus announced blandly, still standing in front of Vic.

"We all know Teddy," a man spoke up.

"Oh, yes, I suppose you're right, we all know Teddy. I won't worry about introductions then." Vic blinked up at Ted, who winked at her as he worked to keep his laughter in check. Then Remus moved so that she was in full view of the room and its occupants.

"I told you I saw someone with them!" James looked triumphantly at a woman with long auburn hair sitting next to him. She rolled her eyes at him but smiled. Vic stared at the resemblance Uncle Harry had to his dad. It was strangely comforting to see James and Lily there. They weren't Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, but simply knowing who they were, that they weren't complete strangers like everyone else in the room, made her feel a bit less like she was the main act for the evening.

"I knew you were more like me," a man with black hair and the face of a model spoke up. The woman sitting on his lap had long blonde curls and she laughed at his comment, turning to give Vic a bright smile.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," a woman with short-cropped brown hair stood and moved to where Vic was standing with Ted.

"I'm Teddy's Aunt Bridget," she took Vic's hand. "My Marauder is Pete over there." She gestured to a portly balding man who smiled and lifted his glass to her. "Those two," she pointed to the man with the blonde in his lap, "are Sirius and Marlene. And the one who swore he saw you at the door is James and that's Lily."

Vic smiled and held up her hand in what she realized at the last moment was probably a rather pathetic wave. This was far more intimidating than she'd originally expected.

Ted, however, was already moving right along.

"Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Victoire. She felt brave enough to meet you all at once."

"Then she'll fit right in," Bridget put a hand on Vic's shoulder and gave her a warm smile.

Remus caught Vic's eye and winked at her. "Dora and I are rather happy to meet her as well. So why don't we move to the dining room and we can show her where Ted picks up all his annoying habits while we eat."

Ted's mum shook her head but laughed as she led everyone to the dining room, "Stop teasing her, Remus."

Vic spent the evening learning that Dora's assessment of their family was spot on. But what Vic also started to see was that the flair for the dramatic these men all seemed to have had a very specific purpose; it made their wives pay attention to them. And she realized that she was no different really than these ladies at the table with her. Every time Ted acted the way his dad or uncles were, she became his bated breath audience. Making her guess his name, never letting her pay for meals, all his teasing, it kept her eyes on him and her smile on her face. She suspected that if she watched Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny the next time, she saw them, she'd see the same thing.

It was in the midst of that realization that another epiphany came. No one had pulled her or Ted away from each other. No one seemed to hate her for what she put Ted through. No one was trying to scrutinize her. On the contrary, they seemed to like her, a lot. And they seemed to think of her as a permanent fixture as they described what to expect for birthday celebrations and Christmas.

Vic turned to Ted as he laughed at his dad's story, and she smiled at him. He had been using that dramatic flair from the moment she met him. He'd claimed her heart with a silly comment about an antique time stamp machine. And Vic finally felt like she knew what Ted meant when he said that it wouldn't matter what anyone said, he'd stay with her. She understood why Harry's comment about a possible end to their relationship had bothered him so much. When Vic had been with Sean, she constantly felt like she needed to defend him or his decisions, and more specifically her staying with him. But what she felt with Ted was different. She didn't feel the need to explain away his actions. She didn't really care what other people thought of Ted, because she knew who he was. He was the man she wanted to be with, regardless of what others might have thought about the start of their relationship or about either of them individually. She wanted to be with Ted, because she loved him.

Ted seemed to notice her eyes on him and turned toward her, his smile bright but his amber eyes questioning. Vic didn't respond to the unspoken question; she simply rested her head against his shoulder. She certainly wasn't going to say those three words to him for the first time in front of his family, even if she might be dying with the effort to keep it inside.

It wasn't much later that Ted suggested they head out and leave his crazy family to gossip about them for the rest of the night. There were a few indignant protests that the two of them certainly didn't need to leave in order for the group to gossip about them, but after a round of hugs and goodbyes, the two youngest members of the family that night moved to Ted's car.

"Well," Ted chuckled as he buckled his seatbelt, "You survived meeting all of them."

Vic laughed, "They're wonderful, Ted, I can see why you love them all so much."

"What would you like to do now, love?" Ted asked as he pulled out of his parents' drive.

Vic summoned her courage to ask if he wanted to keep pulling off the metaphorical bandage.

"Do you want to round out the evening and meet my family?"

Ted turned to look at her for a moment before remembering to watch the road.

"Er, I, yeah, are, are you sure you're alright with that?"

Vic felt the nervous pit in her stomach start to creep back up, but she pushed it down. She loved Ted, and nothing her family did was going to change that.

"If, if you're alright with it, I'd like to take you home to my family tonight." Vic managed a shy smile.

Ted came to a stop sign and leant over capturing her lips in a slow kiss.

"Is your dad going to threaten to chop me into bits?" Ted smirked as he pulled away and began navigating back to Vic's home.

"No," she laughed, "he usually lets the scars from his motorcycle accident be his intimidation." Vic slipped out her phone and let her mum know they were on their way.

Ted laughed, "I'll keep that in mind and try to look suitably intimidated."

"You're ridiculous," Vic grinned as Ted worked his magic on her.

"No, I'm in love with you." Ted grabbed her hand and moved it to kiss her knuckles.

Vic smiled, the anticipation of saying it back was starting to make her giddy. She had originally intended to wait a bit longer to say it, but as Ted drove them to her home, she realized that she wasn't going to be able to wait all that long. So rather than risk blurting it out in front of her whole family, Vic decided to be a bit more flexible with her assumed timeframe.

"Ted," she grabbed his hand as it went to undo his seatbelt in front of her home.

Ted stopped and looked up at her, his eyes holding that same questioning look they'd had at his parents' home.

"Yeah?"

Vic hadn't realized how nervous she'd be. It felt so natural to think about saying she loved him for the first time, but doing it was a completely different beast. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips and she tried to breathe a bit deeper.

"Ted, I love you." The words seemed breathless and Vic kicked herself as she went to say it again, intending to say it with more substance behind it.

But she didn't get the chance as Ted's hands pulled her face to his and kissed her passionately. Vic couldn't stop the smile that claimed her lips, making kissing Ted just a bit difficult, but he didn't seem to mind as he moved to kiss her jawline and behind her ear and along her neck.

"I love you," Vic laughed, feeling the elation that saying those words out loud gave her.

Ted finally pulled back and looked at her, his warm eyes filled with a kind of awe.

"I love you too," he laughed as his hand caressed her cheek. "I love you so much."

Vic moved to kiss him this time, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat, causing them to knock teeth more than anything.

"There is absolutely no way I'll be able to pretend to be intimidated by your dad, now." Ted laughed as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

"That's alright," Vic's smile was so wide her face was starting to hurt. "But we should probably go in. It's getting late."

"Why don't we," Ted kissed her once more before undoing his seatbelt.

Vic pushed open the front door and called out as she let Ted into the entryway.

"Mum, Dad, we're here."

"The lover boy has entered the building," Louis taunted from the den and Vic rolled her eyes before casting an apologetic look at Ted. To her surprise, he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"It's not a bad line, Vic," he defended as he regained his composure.

Vic smiled and led him into the den where her family was gathered.

"Mum, Dad, Dom, Louis, this is my boyfriend, Ted Lupin. Ted, this is Fleur, Bill, Dominique, and Louis."

Ted moved from her side and shook everyone's hands.

"It's wonderful to finally meet all of you," Ted commented as he sat down with Vic. "Now what did you all plan to interrogate me on first?"

Dom laughed, "At least he isn't under any illusions."

Vic rolled her eyes and went to grab her purse when she realized she'd left it in Ted's car.

"Can I borrow your keys? I left my purse in your car."

"I can grab it for you, love," Ted moved to stand.

"I'll run, don't worry, I won't leave you alone with my family for more than a few seconds."

Ted smirked, "Actually, that might be just enough time to get them started on some embarrassing story that you'd try and head off." He handed her his keys. "Or I can go grab it, of course."

Vic laughed and took the keys. "You'd learn all those stories eventually anyway."

Ted held onto her hand for just a moment longer before letting it slide from his as she sprinted for his car. She probably didn't have to run, but there were some stories she'd rather wait for a while longer for them to crop up if she could manage it.

She unlocked the car and snagged her purse, but in her haste, she didn't realize that the strap had caught and wedged between the dash and the corner of the glove box compartment.

"Oh, come on!" Vic gave the strap an upward tug but it wouldn't budge. Rather than risking breaking her purse, she quickly slid the key into the lock and unlocked the glove box, opening it to release her purse.

She stopped short when the compartment fell open.

A small burgundy ring box sat on top of a few other assorted papers and items.

Vic was frozen for a moment before she quickly shut the glove box and locked it again.

Slowly she picked up her now free purse and locked the car. She couldn't take her eyes off of the glove box as the door shut. Her emotions were a storm of excitement and nervousness and overwhelmed, and the knowledge that she needed to stop freaking out because Ted could absolutely not know that she had seen that box. Assuming that it was what she thought it was. But what else could he possibly have that would need to be in a ring box locked in the glove box of his car?

Vic bit her lip and smiled so wide that the reflection she saw in the car window made her wonder if she might crack her face. If the box was what she hoped it was, she already knew her answer.

Then she skipped back into her childhood home and to the man she was madly in love with.

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strangeratthewindow · 3 years

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Arianne Week Day 7: Free Choice

Here’s my meager contribution for Arianne Week. It’s written in Arianne’s POV and is part of a story I have planned set in my American Civil War ISOT ‘verse, just after Robert’s Rebellion. It alludes to plot points and stories that have been written (or are still WIPs) but remain unpublished. And it also features quite a few OCs.

Since I know that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, it’ll be left under the cut for those of you who are still curious.

It’s also a first draft, so I hope you’ll be merciful.

ARIANNE I

Arianne hated reading.

It was not that she failed to understand the importance of the activity as a whole. Rather, it was that she found the books that the maester had deemed important for her lessons to be unbearably dull. “The lessons in these ‘dusty old tomes’, as you so eloquently put it, will service you well once you inherit your father’s seat.” Maester Caleotte had said. But she could only tolerate the grim, unrelenting march of history for so long.

As far as she was concerned, it was the people who wrote the histories that were lacking. Daeron’s Conquest, the uprising of the first Vulture King, the court of Myriah, all histories that were chalk full to the brim with romance, adventure, intrigue, and passion. And yet, they were written as if they were no more exciting than a trip to the marketplace.

“Arianne, you must pay attention.” Maester Caleotte had scolded.

But her attention had drifted off back to the stories, only this time told through her imagination. Her mind produced images of Nymeria’s conquest of the Yronwood Royals, of Rhaenys and Meraxes burning a swath through Dorne until they fell in the skies above Hellholt, of Ser Duncan the Tall and his squire Prince Aegon’s adventures through her country.

She even fantasized about her auntie’s rescue from King’s Landing. She still remembered hearing the story from her father. How the American officer, Hal Celliers, had defied the orders of his commanders and the rebel lords and rescued her aunt Elia and her children, all as a promise to his love and Elia’s friend, the Lady Ashara Dayne. How after his chastisement from his superiors, he was berated and knighted by the Usurper himself and was finally suitable in status to ask for the hand of Lady Ashara. And how after their betrothal, he was appointed by Lord Alaric as the castellan of the new city he had founded beneath Starfall, Stillhaven, and thus was known throughout Dorne and all Westeros by the name his people had called him: the Azure Angel.

It was all terribly romantic and the thought of it managed to swell Arianne’s heart every time.

She cherished the book that the Major Celliers had given her for her last nameday. It was a collection of stories from his world translated into the Common Tongue, all about kings and queens and knights and princesses from his world. The Legends of King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table, her book was called. It was as large as the histories she was forced to read, but endlessly more interesting.

This was the excitement that she craved from reading.

Arianne had found that the Americans were very generous in their stories. She knew that they would have to have some boring books as well. After all – every country seemed to have too much history. But in their stories, they seemed more wondrous than anything that was available in Westeros.

And when her parents had told her one day that they would be receiving ambassadors from that far-away land, she almost leapt from her seat in joy.

She wanted to know everything about these new people from the world beyond Rickard’s Gate.

When the maester announced that their lessons were finished, she all but rushed out the door, her two cousins laughing and trailing behind.

“Slow down, Ari!” Tyene called to her, her golden hair billowing as she ran.

“I can’t! The new guests are coming today!” She called back.

It was a miracle that she didn’t run into any of the servants as they went about their routines. Entering her room, she quickly washed her face, and put on the clothes that her mama had lain out for her. The red and orange silks felt cool against her skin, as she dressed herself. Looking in the mirror, she couldn’t help but frown at what she saw.

The redspots she had contracted last year had mostly gone away, but they left scarring on her skin that did little to flatter her appearance. She had never given much thought about her appearance until she had gotten the redspots. But ever since, it was like a veil was lifted and she was never comfortable with how she looked ever since. In the mirror, she saw a fat and ugly girl as opposed to the beauties that her cousins had been.

Of course, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene never considered her as such, but she knew the truth. She would pray to the Seven each day and night to make her beautiful.

Would the Yankees think the same? She had thought, her excitement dwindling slightly.

“They would be foolish to think as such.” Her mother had told her when Arianne asked.

Her mama’s answer made her feel somewhat better, but she still held concerns. She knew that the Americans cared not about the difference between noble and commoner, but she didn’t know if the same held true for the beautiful and ugly.

The thought of such an end made her grateful that the clothes her mama had chosen for her had concealed her baby fat. The last thing she needed was for their new guests to think she was pudgy.

From her room in the Sun Tower, she could see the wheelhouse carrying their new guests approaching, accompanied by riders under two banners. One showing a golden spear piercing a red sun on an orange field, and the other – a roundel of white stars on a field of blue leading out to alternating red and white stripes. She could hear the cheers of the people from high atop in her rooms, each one praising her father and the Americans.

They’re here!

Tying up her hair, she walked out to the courtroom with her septa and made her way to the courtroom where the rest of the household had assembled. Seeing Tyene and Nymeria already there added some nerves to her excitement. They looked far more beautiful than she, but Arianne would not let her envy get to her. She was a Princess of Dorne and heir to the Sunspear.

I will not let them see me falter.

The last of the Threefold Gates were opened, the adulations of the people of the Shadow City echoing from outside, and in came the yellow-clad honor guard for her father’s men followed closely by the blue-coated honor guard of their new guests.

She stared in awe at the blue-coated soldiers. Everything about them seemed like they came out of the pages of a song. Their brass buttons and high boots along with their fabled magic staves seemed to hide a hundred wondrous stories from their world.

The doors of the wheelhouse opening, she saw her father step out followed closely by her mother. And from behind them, an old, balding man in a grey coat and a skirt? It was a queer choice, but she would not judge the man yet. He at least appeared to be somewhat nice, for he didn’t seem to stop smiling since he exited the wheelhouse. Although that could have been explained by who followed him.

From behind the man, he saw two young boys. They both seemed a little older than her and Tyene, perhaps closer to Nym’s age. The one in the straw hat seemed just as shocked as the older man, his eyes wide and his mouth in an O – shape. The other boy, with the woolen cap, seemed to be a bit sterner, his eyes no less curious though. And it was to be expected. She remembered her father telling her that there were no castles in America.

Guiding the three forward to their household, her father was greeted by her uncle, Ser Manfrey.

“My prince.” Her uncle greeted with a bow.

“Manfrey,” Her father acknowledged in return. “These are our guests, all the way from the United States.”

Stepping forward, her father introduced the three. “This is Minister Montgomery Munro, his son Michael, and nephew Concord.”

“It’s an honor, my lord.” Her uncle bowed. “Ser Manfrey Martell, I am the castellan of Sunspear.”

“Och, none of this ‘my lord’ nonsense, good ser.” He waived his response out with an air of casualness. “Just ‘Minister’ is enough. And might I say, ser, you’ve done a bloody good job at keeping this place together.”

“My thanks, Minister.” Her uncle nodded with a smile, as he shook the man’s hand.

“And this is my daughter, Arianne.” Her father introduced her.

“My aren’t you a pretty one.” He said in his strange, foreign accent. It was enough to make her blush. She didn’t often receive such complements from strangers. “Aye, the boys will definitely take to you.”

He turned to the two boys who were looking straight at her now. “Well, lads? Where’s ye’re manners? Aren’t ye gaun tae say hello?”

The one with the straw hat – Michael – stepped forward and grabbed her hand, placing a kiss on it. “Hello, my princess.”

His smile was something else, and she could feel herself grow more flushed as he looked at her. His eyes were a light blue, bluer than even Tyene’s, and his hair was a series of dark brown waves. To her mind, the boy was definitely pretty. He looked as if he held something of a mischievous streak.

The one with the wool cap – Concord – followed close behind and did the same, only his expression was more nervous. “Greetings, my princess.”

His smile was subtle, but there. She couldn’t seem to read him, his face keeping that serious stern look that reminded her so often of her father. His eyes were an odd blue-gray that seemed almost supernatural in his presence, and his hair was a strong reddish-auburn color. But what caught her attention was the odd rash on his face. It seemed to cover most of his right eye, going down to his lower cheek. She would feel bad to admit as such, but it made her feel better about the scarring on her cheeks that the redspots had left.

Overall, she regarded both boys as quite attractive.

After the proper introductions were held, she asked her mother if she and her cousins could show the two young boys around the castle.

“Ari, I’m sure Michael and Concord will be quite tired from their journey and would like to take some time to recover.”

“My love, perhaps we should ask the boys what they want to do?” Her father had proffered.

“Oh, alright. Minister?” Her mother’s gaze shifted to the bald man who only turned to the boys.

“What say you, lads?”

“We wanna go! We wanna explore the castle! Right Concord?” He asked his cousin.

A simple nod, with a small smile was enough of a response from him to satisfy the grown-ups.

“Oh, alright then. You may show them the keep, but just remember to be back before dinner.”

Her face broke out into a huge smile as she turned to Tyene and Nym who held the same bright smiles on their faces. “Thank you! Thank you!”

And with out hesitation, she grabbed one of the boy’s hands, while her cousins each grabbed the other boy’s hands and sped off to show them Sunspear. She could only just hear the minister’s laugh at her and her cousins’ antics as they dragged the two boys off to show them around the keep.

Gods, what will we show them first? The Sandship? The Golden Arches? Maybe we can take them to the Sun Tower so they can see the thrones!

“Ari! Where are we going?” Tyene asked, still tugging Michael along.

“We’re going to show them the Twin Thrones!” She answered back, as they entered the stairwell that would lead them there.

The commotion they caused would’ve earned her a scolding from her septa, but she figured she could take the risk just this once. Besides, she was a Princess of Dorne. She was allowed certain liberties.

The trek up the Tower of the Sun, is filled with questions from the boys, rather one boy.

“How far up is it?”

“Why is it called the Sun Tower?”

“Who is Nymeria?”

“How come she left the Rhoyne?”

“Did she really conquer all of Dorne?”

Michael’s excitement was infectious. From the bottom of the stairs, up until they reached the door to the main hall, he asked endless questions about Dorne and its history. Arianne and her cousins were only happy to oblige. But the other boy, Concord, remained silent throughout their ascent. Right up until he asked, “Why did Nymeria burn all ten thousand of her ships?”

The suddenness of the question was enough to make Arianne pause. Didn’t I already tell him why?

“Because she wanted to send a message to the world that her people had found their new home.”

“I know that, but why did she burn all ten thousand of her ships?”

It was a strange question to ask, and one she didn’t entirely understand.

“What do you mean?”

“A ship is very useful but costs a lot of money.” He started, still staring up at the golden sun motifs. “If Nymeria was planning to help Mors Martell conquer the rest of Dorne, wouldn’t it have been more useful for her to keep some of those ships around?”

Arianne frowned at Concord’s question. Of course, she had heard the stories about the Rhoynar Exodus and how Nymeria brought the petty kings of Dorne to heel, but she never wondered about this. After all, who would care so much about ships?

“Oh, don’t mind him.” Michael interrupted. “Connie’s always asking about boats and ships and sailing. He wants to be a pirate when he’s all grown up.”

“I do not.” Concord shot back, scowling at his cousin’s teasing.

“Yeah, you do.” Michael said, crossing his arms in that way she would often see her uncle do. “On the trip here, you wouldn’t stop talking to the other sailors. You even wanted to climb up the lookout’s nest too.”

Nymeria and Tyene laughed freely as they watched the two cousins bickering, as if they hadn’t shared the same kind of arguments with her. It was only when Arianne realized that their eyes were on her rather than the American boys that she realized. Looking down, she noted that she was still holding Concord’s hand.

Thankfully neither boy had noticed the fact, nor did they see how flushed Arianne’s cheeks had become. Rolling her eyes at her cousins’ amused smiles, she pushed the doors open and led the group into the Hall of the Twin Thrones.

She watched in amusement as the two boys gawked at the high seats of Dorne. To the left, the Sun Throne, emblazoned with a copper edifice of the Rhoynar sun. And to the right, the Spear Throne, carved in gold with the emblem of the spear of Martell. Both were a sight to behold to any who visited Sunspear.

“Wow!” Michael exclaimed, as he ran ahead of the others. “I’ve never seen a throne before.”

“They’re beautiful.” Concord said, plainly.

Arianne couldn’t help but smile in victory. She was worried that the American boys wouldn’t be impressed with her family’s keep, but their words and awestruck faces soothed her concerns.

“Can we sit on them?” Michael asked.

Her smile turned into a smirk as she huffed and answered, “Not without my permission.”

“You would be wise to gain the favor of the princess before asking for such things.” Tyene supplied, giggling at her cousin’s answer. “She will rule Dorne one day.”

Before the boys could speak, she walked over to the Sun Throne with the same regal poise that she had seen her mother do, and promptly sat down. “You may sit down on the Spear Throne, Michael. That is if you agree to be my consort.”

“Consort? Is that like a prince?”

“In a way,” Nymeria answered, “but you would not rule Dorne. You would have to answer to Ari.”

“Never mind, then.” Michael replied, his disappointment clear. “I wanted to be a prince.”

Arianne’s unladylike huff brought out more laughter from her cousins, and whilst she knew that it was all just pretend and play, a part of her couldn’t help but feel angered that another boy wouldn’t want to have to answer to her.

“What about you Connie?” Tyene asked, using the newly revealed nickname. “Would you like to sit on the Spear Throne?”

“Or do you not want to submit to a girl?” Nymeria teased, her smirk prodding at the older boy.

“May I?” Concord asked, looking straight in Arianne’s eyes.

“If you do not object to only being consort.” She tested, a single brow arched and ready to deal with any defiance.

“I don’t mind. Besides, I’d rather not be a prince.” Concord answered plainly, stepping forward and sitting down on the throne.

Whatever answer she expected, it certainly wasn’t that. Her cousins also appeared to be of the same mind if their shocked expressions conveyed anything. Michael seemed unsurprised by his cousin’s answer, but then they seemed close enough as family where one could correctly guess the actions of the other.

“Strange.” She remarked as she looked over to him. “I had thought all boys would want nothing more than to be a dashing prince.”

“Not me,” He answered absently as he set his hands on the armrests. “I don’t think I’d like that kind of life.”

For a brief moment, she recalled something of interest that her father once told her. He had said that the Americans’ realm had no nobility of any kind, and that they choose their leaders from the people. She was curious and wanted to press him further but was hesitant. So, she chose instead to ask, “So, your cousin is correct? You’d rather be a pirate?”

“Not a pirate.”

“A sailor, then?” She ventured.

“No, I – ”

“Oh, don’t lie Connie.” Michael interrupted. “It’s not proper to do so to a princess.”

Concord only rolled his eyes at him, as Nymeria and Tyene ran up to her and asked her if they could show them the hidden chambers in the Sandship. Arianne conceded, the two grabbing Michael’s hand once more, and running back into the maze of halls. Looking back over to Concord, she noted how shy he had become, left alone in the throne room with no one but her.

His blushing face was a comfort to Arianne.

It gave her enough confidence to ask, “There are no kings in America, right? Or queens?”

“That’s right.”

“Or princes and princesses?”

By his crestfallen look, a stranger to their conversation would have assumed that he had said the insulting words and nor her.

“I’m not offended.” She explained with a giggle, “I just…”

“Just…?”

“I just wanted to know what it’s like living in a place like that.”

Concord paused for a moment as he scratched his red hair, himself looking quite unsure about the question.

“If I had to say, it’s for sure a lot less exciting than Dorne.”

Arianne gave a barking laugh, the kind of unladylike laugh that would’ve gotten her chastised by her mother and septa. She didn’t think much of the red headed boy at first, but she had to admit that he would certainly prove to be interesting. Sliding off the copper colored throne, she reached her hand out to Concord.

“Will you be my escort then, seeing as you’re my loyal consort?”

With a soft smile, he slid off the throne and bowed fancily, removing his hat in respect. “My princess, it would be an honor.”

“You can call me Ari, if you’d like.” She smiled, as he took her hand. “But only if I can call you Connie.”

“Oh, fine.” He muttered. “But only because you asked.”

“I did not ask. I commanded, as is my right as a Princess of Dorne.” Arianne replied. “But I will ask this: what were you going to say earlier before your cousin interrupted?”

“Oh?” He paused briefly, recalling the moment. “Oh! I was going to say that I didn’t want to be just a sailor. I want to be a captain of my own ship.”

Arianne couldn’t help but laugh at the boy’s nautical interests, not that she found them to be foolish. Rather, she was amused that he would rather be content to rule over a floating hunk of hammered wood than a whole kingdom.

“Well, then.” She started, looking up straight into his eyes. “We should make haste to the Sandship! Our cousins will already be there, and there is no better place in Dorne to learn the art of captaining.”

“Very well, my pri – …Ari.”

“You learn fast... Connie.”

Hand in hand, they ran off through the halls of the castle.

I guess he’s not so bad.

#arianne martell #arianneweek2020

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thelittlesttimelord · 4 years

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The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 11

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 11 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 11/? SUMMARY: The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret, because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

[A/N - I’ve enjoyed writing this episode so much! I hope you like it too!]

“And then we discovered it wasn't the Robot King after all, it was the real one. Fortunately, I was able to re-attach the head,” the Doctor told Rory, who was sitting in the pilot seat.

Amy came down the stairs.

“Do you believe any of this stuff?” he asked her.

“I was there.”

Elise smiled from her spot on the stars where she was sketching the TARDIS rotor.

“Oh, it's the warning lights. I'm getting rid of those! They never stop!” the Doctor yelled, kicking the console. At one point in time, Elise would have yelled at him for it. But she ignored him.

There was suddenly a knock on the TARDIS door.

“What was that?” Amy asked.

“The door. It knocked,” the Doctor said.

“Right. We are in deep space,” Rory reminded him.

“Very, very deep”.

The knocking came again.

“And somebody's knocking.”

Elise briefly wondered if it was River coming for a visit.

The Doctor opened the doors.

There was a small glowing box floating outside.

“Oh, come here. Come here, you scrumptious little beauty.” The Doctor reached out for it, but before he could touch it it flew inside and darted around the console. It slammed into the Doctor’s chest.

“A box?” Rory asked.

“Doctor, what is it?” Amy asked.

The Doctor picked up the box. “I've got mail!” He ran up to the console. “Timelord emergency messaging system. In an emergency, we'd wrap up thoughts in psychic containers and send them through time and space. Anyway, there's a living Timelord still out there, and it's one of the good ones.”

“You said there weren't any other Timelords left. Besides you and Elise,” Rory said.

“There are no Timelords left anywhere in the universe. But the universe isn't where we're going. See that snake? The mark of the Corsair. Fantastic bloke. He had that snake as a tattoo in every regeneration. Didn't feel like himself unless he had the tattoo. Or herself, a couple of times. Ooo, she was a bad girl.”

The console sparked and popped.

“Oh, what is happening?” Rory asked.

“We're leaving the universe!” the Doctor yelled.

“How can you leave the universe?” Amy asked.

“With enormous difficulty! Right now I'm burning up TARDIS rooms to give us some welly. Goodbye, swimming pool. Goodbye, scullery. Sayonara, squash court seven.”

The console continued to spark as Amy screamed.

The TARDIS landed and everything went quiet.

“Okay, okay. Where are we?” Amy asked.

“Outside the universe, where we've never, ever been,” the Doctor told them.

The lights in the TARDIS started to go out.

“Is that meant to be happening?” Rory asked.

“The power, it's draining. Everything's draining. But it can't. That's, that's impossible,” the Doctor said.

“What is that?”

“It's as if the Matrix, the soul of the TARDIS, has just vanished. Where would it go?”

They stepped out into a junkyard.

“So what kind of trouble's your friend in?” Amy asked.

“He was in a bind. A bit of a pickle. Sort of distressed,” the Doctor told her.

“Ah, you can't just say you don't know.”

“But what is this place? The scrap yard at the end of the universe?” Rory asked.

“Not end of, outside of,” the Doctor said. He threw his arm around Rory’s shoulder as Amy rifled through some junk.

“How we can we be outside the universe? The universe is everything.”

“Imagine a great big soap bubble with one of those tiny little bubbles on the outside.”

“Okay.”

“Well, it's nothing like that.”

The Doctor tapped the doors of the TARDIS. “Completely drained. Look at her.”

“Wait. So we're in a tiny bubble universe, sticking to the side of the bigger bubble universe?” Amy asked.

“Yeah. No. But if it helps, yes. This place is full of rift energy. She'll probably refuel just by being here. Now, this place. What do we think, eh?” the Doctor picked up a rock and threw it.

“Gravity's almost Earth normal, air's breathable, but it smells like…”

“Armpits,” Amy supplied.

The Doctor jumped inside a bathtub. Was he incapable of standing still for one second? “Armpits.”

“What about all this stuff? Where did this come from?” Rory asked. He twirled a light fixture.

“Well, there's a rift. Now and then stuff gets sucked through it. Not a bubble, a plughole. The universe has a plughole and we've just fallen down it.”

“Thief! Thief! You're my thief!” A woman ran towards the Doctor. She was wearing a ratty blue dress.

A man and an older woman followed.

“She's dangerous. Guard yourselves,” the older woman said.

The younger woman ran up to the Doctor, frantically touching his arms and chest. “Look at you. Goodbye. No, not goodbye, what's the other one?” She launched herself on the Doctor, kissing him.

The man pulled her off the Doctor, who was wiping his lips and running a hand through his hair in shock. “Watch out. Careful. Keep back from her. Welcome, strangers. Lovely. Sorry about the mad person,” the man told them.

“Why am I a thief? What have I stolen?” the Doctor asked.

“Me. You're going to steal me. No, you have stolen me. You are stealing me. Oh tenses are difficult, aren't they?”

The woman walked over to Amy and played with the ends of her hair. Something about her felt familiar to Elise. Like she knew her from somewhere. “Oh! Look at you!” the woman said, kneeling in front of Elise.

“Oh. Oh, we are sorry, my dove. She's off her head. They call me Auntie,” the older woman, Auntie told them. She stepped forward and shook the Doctor’s hand.

The man did the same. “And I'm Uncle. I'm everybody's Uncle. Just keep back from this one. She bites!”

“Do I? Excellent,” the woman said. She grabbed the Doctor and bit him on the ear.

“Ow! Ow!”

“Biting's excellent. It's like kissing, only there's a winner.”

“So sorry. She's doolally,” Uncle said.

“No, I'm not doolally. I'm…I'm…It's on the tip of my tongue. I've just had a new idea about kissing. Come here, you.” She reached for the Doctor, who ran and hide behind Amy and Rory.

“No, Idris, no,” Auntie said, grabbing her.

“Oh, but now you're angry. No, you're not. You will be angry. The little boxes will make you angry.” The woman, Idris, looked at Elise. “And you. You’re going to learn something that is going to make you sad. Sad and angry.”

“Sorry? The little what? Boxes?” the Doctor asked.

Idris started laughing. “Your chin is hilarious!” She turned to look at Rory. “It means the smell of dust after rain.”

“What does?”

“Petrichor.”

“But I didn't ask.”

“Not yet. But you will.”

“No, no, Idris. I think you should have a rest,” Auntie told her.

“Rest. Yes, yes. Good idea. I'll just see if there's an off switch.” Idris collapsed.

The Doctor and Rory caught her, setting her down on a chair nearby.

“Is that it? Is she dead now?” Uncle asked, “So sad.”

“No, she's still breathing,” Rory told him.

“Nephew, take Idris somewhere she cannot bite people.”

The Doctor turned around. “Oh, hello!”

Amy, Rory, and Elise turned around as well. Amy jumped back and hid Elise behind her.

The alien was wearing a jumpsuit. It was bald and had tentacles where its mouth should be.

“Doctor, what is that?” Amy asked.

“Oh, no, it's all right. It's an Ood. Oods are good. Love an Ood. Hello, Ood.” The Doctor approached the Ood. “Can't you talk? Oh, I see. It's damaged. May I?” He picked up the white ball attached to the jumpsuit and disassembled it. “It might just be on the wrong frequency.”

“Nephew was broken when he came here. Why, he was half dead. House repaired him. House repaired all of us,” Auntie explained.

The Doctor got the ball working again and a voice came out of it.

“If you are receiving this message, please help me. Send a signal to the High Council of the Time Lords on Gallifrey. Tell them that I am still alive. I don't know where I am. I'm on some rock-like planet.”

Several other voices were trying to come through as well.

“What was that? Was that him?” Rory asked.

“No, no. It's picking up something else. But that's…that's not possible. That's…that's… Who else is here? Tell me. Show me. Show me!” the Doctor demanded.

“Just what you see. Just the four of us, and the House,” Auntie told him, “Nephew, will you take Idris somewhere safe where she can't hurt nobody?”

“The House? What's the House?”

“House is all around you, my sweets.”

Uncle jumped up and down where he stood.

“You are standing on him. This is the House. This world. Would you like to meet him?”

“Meet him?” Rory asked.

The Doctor hushed him. “I'd love to.”

“This way. Come, please. Come.”

Auntie and Uncle walked off.

“What's wrong? What were those voices?” Amy asked the Doctor.

“Timelords. It's not just the Corsair. Somewhere close by there are lots and lots of Timelords.” He took Elise’s hand and they hurried after Auntie and Uncle.

They led them into a spaceship.

“Come. Come, come,” Uncle told them, “You can see the House and he can look at you, and he...”

The Doctor walked over towards them and looked into metal grating on the floor. “I see. This asteroid is sentient.”

“We walk on his back, breathe his air, eat his food,” Auntie said.

“Smell its armpits,” Amy commented.

A deep, sophisticated voice came out of Auntie and Uncle. “And do my will. You are most welcome, travelers.”

“Doctor, that voice. That's the asteroid talking?” Amy asked.

“Yes. So you're like a sea urchin. Hard outer surface, that's the planet we're walking on. Big, squashy, oogly thing inside, that's you.”

“That is correct, Timelord,” House said.

“Ah. So you've met Timelords before?”

“Many travelers have come through the rift, like Auntie and Uncle and Nephew. I repair them when they break.”

“So there are Timelords here, then?”

“Not anymore, but there have been many TARDIS’s on my back in days gone by.”

“Well, there won't be any more after us. Last Timelords. Last TARDIS.”

“A pity. Your people were so kind. Be here in safety, Doctor. Rest, feed, if you will.”

Auntie and Uncle relaxed, now back to normal.

“We're not actually going to stay here, are we?” Rory asked.

“Well, it seems like a friendly planet. Literally. Mind if we poke around a bit?” the Doctor asked Auntie, Uncle, and Nephew.

“You can look all you want. Go. Look,” Auntie said. She walked up to Amy and touched her face and hair. “House loves you.”

“Come on then, gang. We're just going to, er, see the sights.”

They quickly left the spaceship.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagines #eleventh doctor fanfiction #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #amy pond #amy pond imagine #Rory Williams #rory williams imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the death of the doctor

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aziraamane · 5 years

Text

Human AU - Part 6

This fic now has a name! I’ll be calling it “All the Better Part of Me” when it finally goes up onto AO3 - because I spent far too much time reading Shakespeare’s sonnets to call it anything else.

(Previous) - (First)

"Is Warlock coming today?" Adam asked, again.

"Yup," Crowley said, popping the 'p.' He tightened his knees around Adam, holding him in place as he dragged a brush through the squirming boy's hair. "Hold still, you little devil."

"'Nath'ma does it nicer!"

"Do you?" Crowley glowered up at Anathema, comfortable on the sofa; she winked at him from behind her coffee mug.

"Maybe."

"You do it, then," Crowley muttered, Adam still wriggling on the carpet.

"Sorry, can't. I'm off the clock for another, oh, two minutes seventeen seconds."

"I hate you."

"Aww, if I weren't being paid extra tonight, I'd hate you, too, Mr Grumpy."

The doorbell rang at that point, and Adam shot up from Crowley's grip to answer it. With the sudden loss of nephew, Crowley looked at the brush in his hand, shrugged, and began to neaten his own hair.

No dirt smudged his cheeks today. He’d prepared for guests this time, scrubbed clean and sporting his casual ensemble of tight-fitting, black v-neck tee and even tighter-fitting black jeans. His sunglasses were off, but Anathema was already handing them to him as he contemplated slipping them back on, and he went with the safer option of wearing them.

Warlock came running into the room, all smiles, Adam trailing behind. "Hello!" he announced.

"Hey, kiddo," Crowley grinned, chucking the hairbrush over his shoulder.

"I gots, uh, cookies in my bag. They got chocolate in them."

"Oh, dear. The womens' mags get mad at me if I don't watch my waistline." Crowley patted his belly with a wink, sticking out his tongue at Warlock, who laughed.

"Come off it, my dear. If anything you could afford to put on a few pounds." Ezra appeared in the doorway, holding Warlock's jacket.

A flood of warmth suffused Crowley's face at his arrival, along with a starburst of a smile. "Hey, angel."

"Hello, Anthony. Thank you so much for agreeing to take Warlock for the night."

"What are friends for, eh?" He slithered to his feet, joints cracking. "Got time for a drink?"

Ezra shook his head. "I'm afraid not, I must dash off again - do keep in touch, though, won't you? I haven't actually left Warlock with anybody before…"

"Don't worry, he's in good hands with Ana."

For seemingly the first time since he walked in, Ezra noticed Anathema. "Ah! Miss Device! I didn't see you down there. How are you?"

"Good, thanks, Ezra." She flashed a look at Crowley that could only speak of triumph before addressing Ezra again, "I promise I'll contact you if anything comes up, okay? Relax a little."

"Thank you." A little weight seemed to leave Ezra's shoulders. "Well...must go, then." He gestured to Warlock, roughhousing with Adam, and the boy wobbled over, beaming. They came together in a long embrace, Ezra pressing kisses over Warlock's rosy cheeks. "Be on your best behaviour, darling," Crowley heard him whisper, "but if you feel lonely or - or sad - or just need to talk, then-"

"Ezra~" Crowley sing-songed, tapping his watch.

"U-Um. Yes. Quite." Ezra's eyes were overly shiny when he pulled back, though Warlock just giggled and skipped off to play with Adam again. Ezra got to his feet, brushed down his already perfectly smooth trousers. "Well, then. I...I'll be going."

It was clear the man was utterly miserable. He didn't at all want to go to dinner with his siblings. He didn't want to leave his son behind. He didn't like being out of his comfort zone.

Dammit, he was so cute.

"Come on, angel." Crowley threw an arm round Ezra's shoulders and steered him firmly, but not unkindly, towards the front door. "S’only a few hours, it'll fly by before you know it." He'd been at enough parties to know that that was a complete lie, but at that moment he'd do anything to wipe the despair off of Ezra's rapidly paling face. "Won't be long before the kids are asleep, anyway, and they won't be getting up to much mischief when they're out for the count. So relax. I reckon you've earned some time off from being dad."

Ezra blinked his big, watery eyes up at Crowley, and his bottom lip finally stopped trembling. "Oh, thank you," he whispered. "I've just been fretting so much about all this. It's terrifying, Anthony."

"Only as terrifying as you make it, angel. Now go, go on, put on a few pounds in my place, you deserve it!" With a final comforting pat on the back, Crowley urged Ezra through the front door and closed it with a snap.

A long, low huff of breath whooshed from his lungs as he turned, leaning his back against the cool wood. Eyes trained on the ceiling, he sighed. Poor guy's got a lot on his shoulders.

Anathema was staring at him from the living room doorway when he looked back, her expression a picture of utter glee. "What?" snapped Crowley.

She giggled. "You called him angel! Oh, Anthony! How didn't I twig beforehand? You fancy him!"

Crowley folded his arms. "I'm not having this conversation with you, Ana."

"You're blushing."

"I'm walking away now."

"You're a soppy git!"

"I will fire your ass, I swear to fucking-"

From somewhere in the living room, Warlock gasped, "Your uncle said a swear!"

~*~

The meal was a sumptuous affair. If anything good could be said about the collective Fells, it was that they were marvellous cooks, and Michaela in particular had an excellent eye for wine pairings. Ezra sat on Uriel's left, Sandy to his right, and together they laughed and joked as they feasted. Wine flowed like water, and his stomach was full, his head pleasantly buzzing, and he wondered whatever had he been so worried about?

Until Gabriel cleared his throat, suddenly business-like.

"I told Ezra about the lecturer's position opening," he told Sandy.

"Ah." The youngest Fell brother, Sandalphon - Sandy for short - was chaplain at King’s; a short, balding man with garish gold fillings in his teeth and a tendency to speak with a slight sneer. He turned now to Ezra, looking expectant. "And?"

Ezra coughed, reaching for his wine. "I have no plans to alter my career at present, Sandy. I'm quite content where I am."

The looks of pity they all gave him was enough to make his food sit heavy in his stomach, and no longer pleasantly at that.

"What a shame," Sandy sighed. "And you were doing so well for yourself."

"It was my choice, and my choice alone, to leave the teaching profession."

"And we were all very sad for you when you left," Uriel chipped in. She was dark-skinned and dark-eyed, deceptively sweet-looking, and at twenty-four years old, the youngest of them all. Beside her, Michaela, with her rigid pose and coif of short brown curls, steepled her fingers under her chin and leaned in slightly, listening but remaining silent.

The ever-present familial frustration that simmered in Ezra's blood began heating. "I appreciate everybody's concern," he said, stiff and mechanical, "but I wish you would trust me a little more to make my life decisions by myself."

"Ezra, you graduated from school and started out as a gardener, for Heaven's sake," Sandy retorted.

"And that profession led to my eventually being allowed to adopt Warlock, may his birth parents rest in peace. You of all people, Sandalphon, ought to have more respect."

“Oy vey…” Sandy pressed a hand to his brow.

Uriel patted Ezra’s hand. "We just can't help but worry about you," she said, sickly sweet.

"Why?" he snapped. "Because I am not intent on following our parents into their overworked graves, the way you are all doing?" Angrily, he swiped his mouth with a napkin, dropped it to his plate, and pushed himself to standing. "Every time we come together I hope that something will have changed. Every time, I am disappointed. So pray excuse my rudeness, but I will take my leave now - I have family more deserving of my time waiting for me."

He made for the door, stopped, strode back to the table and grabbed an unopened bottle of wine. "I'm taking this,” he told Gabriel. “I can happily suggest where to shove it if you object."

He thought he saw Michaela smirk behind her hands, the rest seemingly stunned into silence.

"Thank you for the meal, but as for the rest, thanks for nothing. Toodle-pip!"

#tia-lew writes #fanfiction #good omens #ineffable husbands #slow burn #aziraphale #crowley #anathema device #adam young #warlock dowling #archangel gabriel #archangel uriel #archangel michael #archangel sandalphon #archangel fucking gabriel #work in progress #fanfic excerpt

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brownskinsugarplum76 · 5 years

Text

Third Shift, Part 1

I'm still plugging away on the story I started for Robert's birthday, but here's everything up to the smut, which is halfway written. Please excuse any errors. ☺️ More tonight, I hope! It takes place on Robert's 21st birthday, in 1969, a day during which Zeppelin performed 2 shows virtually back to back.

Shout out to Robert, as always, for being the best muse I could've asked for. Happy birthday, sir. 🙌🏽🎁🎂❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good evening, Schenectady! The birthday boy is here!" Robert proclaimed loudly to no one in particular as he entered. The locals, rough-looking men who could appreciate what amounted to a truck stop stripper bar, suspiciously eyed the willowy hippie dandy with the British accent who bounded through the sea of wooden tables. Before the blue-collar men could return to their drinks they noticed the rest of the boy's long-haired entourage, and a chorus of grumbles and groans filled the room.

"He needs those birthday punches sooner than later," muttered Bonzo, watching his friend, in his birthday oblivion, blissfully ignorant to the bar's shifting mood. "I know I can give 'im as good as that American roadie tosser did me for my 21st."

As the rest of the band and Cole found an open table, Robert breezed his way to the bar between two men who were nursing large mugs of beer and lost in a heated conversation about the year's prospects for the New York Jets.

"Look at this long-haired freak," said the man wearing a Jets hat. "Kids got no respect for themselves today, I tell ya. No respect for themselves or this fine country."

Robert almost pointed out that he was from England, but thought better of it. A bar brawl and physical damage to his angel face would not help him win the hearts of any local girls.

The thought vanished quickly from his mind. He was too high to care after successful back to back shows that night, his revelry for his milestone 21st birthday, and a long swallow of whiskey in the car. Besides, he'd heard every negative comment about his hair and his clothes before.

"Oi love," he called loudly at the back of the bartender, who was restocking bottles of vodka and whiskey. No top-shelf brands, Robert noticed disdainfully, having acquired taste in this area under the tutelage of Cole. "A pint for the birthday boy, please?" He'd never met a beer or a cider he didn't like and figured it would be a safe bet.

"A pint of what?" she said without turning around.

"Ah, fuck," he said, quickly flashing an apologetic smile when the men at his sides whipped their heads toward him to deliver severe scowls. "America... Right. A beer, love, please? And it really is my birthday."

"Happy birthday, Mr. Out of Town," she said with sarcasm, moody from the high of catching Zeppelin's early show that night followed by the lows of the regulars' crude come-ons. "We've only got domestic," she continued. "I hope that's good enough for you."

She finally turned around and gasped. "You're the guy from Led Zeppelin, aren't you?"

"Robert Plant's the name." His smile, with its luminous, hypnotic quality, dissolved her shock and revved her desire. He liked the reaction he usually got from his smile, but he hoped that people would remember his name soon.

"Hey, you were at the first show, yeah? Front row, jean shorts, tight little T-shirt?" Somehow his smile became more intense, magnetic enough to make her face flush and her breath catch.

"You saw me?" She filled the mug with beer, higher to the top than usual, in direct defiance to her uncle's strict instructions.

Robert thanked her and sipped the beer she sat before him. He sighed. "Fine American lager, this is."

"Don't tell my uncle, but it's our best, and it's on the house for you, birthday boy."

Robert grinned broadly. "To answer your question," he said, then took another sip, "I would've been blind to not have noticed you. I couldn't resist your stare and you're, uh, rather lovely… Even now, in your work outfit."

She knew her work t-shirt was stained from a beer mug she had knocked over earlier. There was nothing she could do about that, so she toyed with her hair instead, finding a stray lock to tuck behind her ear. "Well, then, please tell me you're the prince who has come to whisk me away from all this." She waved her hands at the backs of men who might have been star high school football players in their heyday but were now graying or balding men, or both, with expanding waistlines and protracted bad moods. She rolled her eyes.

"I, uh, could be, if you want… For tonight, anyway."

"I don't get off until 2, though. Are you really going to stick around here until then?"

Robert looked around sheepishly. He knew Cole's skin must've been crawling, and he'd also heard whispers about more strippers visiting the hotel for him. "I…"

"Fucking hell, Robert, did you forget about us at the table, matey? Too busy chatting up a bird? We've eaten all the peanuts we can stand, you wanker. Get us some bloody beers, too!"

"Sorry, Bonzo," Robert said, without turning around. "Four more beers for the band and our road mom, please."

"I think you're right… We won't be closing your bar down, sweet. I think they have another surprise for me at the hotel." He gave her a puppy dog frown while she poured more beers. His wide-eyed stare went overcast in a way that he surely knew would be irresistible.

The more she stared into the depths of his stormy blue eyes, the more his gaze seemed to issue a dare. A barely perceptible upturn of his lips was the only clue that she wasn't imagining things.

She batted her eyelids and offered a similar sliver of a smile. His challenge had been accepted. "What a shame… But, you know, I have another idea…" She grabbed the strings that weighed down the corners of his shirt's V-neck opening and pulled him closer.

Robert didn't need another hint. He purred as the softness of her lips met his. Then he smirked inwardly as his tongue effortlessly teased her lips apart and swirled in her mouth with a tantalizing churn. He witnessed her bravado buckling under the heat of his kiss.

Her hands migrated to his mop of large curls as he gently grasped her shoulders. The two men seated in front of her groused and said it was time to get better seats for the show anyway. She knew they were the only ones who would care about her spectacle with Robert after having their space invaded; everyone else was too drunk or lost in conversation to care.

She eventually pulled away. She was fearful that her uncle would see her, as he was due in at any minute.

Her breathing went shallow and her heart began to race, but she found her voice somehow. "The show will be starting soon. When it does, meet me outside. I'll be on my break. You came in a car, right?"

"That I did, darlin'. A car that no one will be using during the show… Ah! An angel's face and a devil's mind. A combination I love."

She smiled. "Oh, Robert? One more thing…"

"Sure," he said without a clue of what she was going to say.

"Let's see your bartending skills… Don't forget the beers," she said, gesturing to the full tray before her.

"Barkeep! I thought you'd never come!" Cole clapped Robert on the back as he sat the tray down. Robert breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that all the drinks made it to the table without one drop spilled.

"Lovely new friend you have there…" Jimmy offered before trailing off. He eyed the beer suspiciously before pushing it away from him. "I'm going to pass."

"Now, now, Pagey, you'll need it for a tick while we toast Robert," Bonzo chided. "And then you can give it to me."

Robert had finished his drink but raised his empty mug for the toast, as did Jonesy and the rest.

"Right. Percy, my mate, you wiggled your ass into something great for both of us. I am forever grateful that you thought of me for the New Yardbirds, as it were. There's a matter of a petrol bill to settle still, but let's forget about that for now, yeah? I'm glad we're on this ride together. Before we all say cheers, just know that I plan to dole out your birthday punches when you least expect it. Twenty-one of 'em. Jonesy will count to keep us honest."

"Anyway," he said, looking over at Robert, "Happy 21st birthday, Robert. Chin chin."

Everyone touched glasses. Everyone with beer took a sip, Jimmy included. Robert took a healthy swallow of Jimmy's beer before passing it over to Bonzo. As much as Robert wanted another pint, he knew he wanted to be as alert as he could for the bartender and their rendezvous.

***

The entertainment was announced, and Robert rose from the table.

"And just where the fuck are you going?" Cole glared as Robert pushed his chair under the table. "You're the only reason we're here right now."

"I'd say it's safe to wager that Robert has made plans for private entertainment," Jimmy commented.

"The bartender," echoed Jonesy.

"You mean you don't want to witness the finest strippers that upstate New York has to offer?" On with you, then." Cole waved a dismissive hand and lit a cigarette.

"May I borrow the car keys?" Robert asked Cole, while his eyes pleaded even more.

"Here."

Robert caught the keys as they hurtled through the air in the general direction of his head.

"And don't drink all the whiskey with your lady friend!"

Robert bowed, tipped an invisible hat to Cole, and then walked briskly to the door.

"Hmmm… I may have spoken too soon about the quality of Schenectady's strippers…" Cole exchanged glances with the rest of the band as a voluptuous blonde took center stage and waited, with her hands on her hips, for the music to start. "My sincerest apologies, greater New York." Cole whistled loudly and turned his chair completely toward the stage.

#Robert plant #classic rock #fan fiction #Writing #wip

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dreamthinkimagine · 5 years

Text

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Giggly

WARNING: sad!spock

For @plomeeksandmintjuleps

* BEEP BEEP BEEP *

The Chief Engineer slowly sat up in his bed, reached out his arm, and with his eyes still closed he patted his night stand looking for his alarm clock. This was annoying; the entire situation was annoying. He only got three hours of sleep because he was in the engine room all night trying to fix an urgent problem that if left unfixed would have cost everyone the Enterprise. So why did he have to get up to work even more at 6:00 AM again?

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his job or his ship; it was quite the opposite. He had built the ship himself and loved her as his baby. He was so dedicated to the Enterprise that when he lost his right middle finger while working on her, he tried to escape sickbay several times a day just to finish his work. But, like every parent, occasionally he was completely drained. He was exhausted; and as much as he wanted to stay in bed, he didn’t even want to imagine what would happen to his ship if he wasn’t in the engine room.

In fact, his love for the Enterprise would have kept him going on three hours of sleep, but not this time. Usually every parent likes a babysitter every now and then, but it was getting a little much. Kirk had slowly gotten into a habit of sending Spock down to the engine room to “assist” Scotty in his work. Spock may have started out as a babysitter, but he was now more like a nanny. Every time the half-Vulcan entered the room, Scotty felt more and more unsure about the captain’s faith in him. Why didn’t Kirk trust him anymore? What did he do? The fact that he didn’t even know why just added more exhaustion to the situation. Exhaustion was a weird feeling for him, usually his love for the ship would give him all the energy he needed and more; but since he felt like the Enterprise was being taken away...well...what else could he expect to feel?

He forced his sleep-filled eyes open and rubbed his face. His blanket felt as if it weighed fifty pounds as he lifted it off himself to get up. He set the shower on cold and made his hands into a cup. With the water that gathered in his hold, he splashed his face hoping that the shock would wake him, but it didn’t. Instead it only made him crave his nice, comfy, warm bed all the more.

Getting himself dressed was a hassle - he almost fell back asleep three times. He was so tired that he felt weak, his limbs even heavier than the blanket; his own body betraying him. If getting on the boots were tough before, pulling them up now was a hundred times more difficult. He yawned a deep yawn from within his core, the sound resonating inside him. Brushing his hair was usually an easy task considering the length, but today it felt like trying to detangle a couple fist-fulls of wires from the Enterprise’s mainframe.

“Computer. Date.”

“March 31st 2268.”

Even though his mind was alert, his body was not. The red-shirt wanted to work on the engines more, but doubted that his body would make it easy. He remembered a quote from Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, “The spirit is strong, but the flesh is weak.” Boy, is the flesh weak, he thought to himself as he trudged out of his quarters and into the hustle and bustle of a normal day on the Enterprise. He looked at the people in the hall and through his fatigue, it looked and felt as if everyone was moving in fast motion while he was left in the dust.

* * *

Having arrived in the engine room, he immediately forced his body to get to work and tested everything he had worked on just a few hours before, and it all worked perfectly. Better than perfect. And even though he was tired as heck, the pride he held for his own ship outweighed it.

Okay, so Kirk called it his own ship, and Scotty let him have his fun. Kirk said it was his, and yes he was in charge of it, but Starfleet assigned him to it in the first place. It even stayed on their property when it was on earth - at least until Scotty decided to retire, which he couldn’t even see himself doing for a long time. Kirk and Starfleet could say they owned it all they wanted, but Scotty knew better. He built it. It was his. You build it, you own it. It was his “Ol’ Girl.”

As Scotty was thinking, he was interrupted by a Red Alert. Soon after, Mr. Spock marched into the engine room and began to take over everything the Scotsman had previously been doing. Suddenly, Scotty had his energy back. He sighed before he even spoke.

“Mr. Spock, what are you doing here?”

“Captain’s orders.”

“But don’t you belong on the bridge? You can do more there. I’m the Chief Engineer. I can - and I do - handle everything here.” It was almost as if Kirk thought that the engineer didn’t know what he was doing.

“Normally, Mr. Scott, I would not doubt your abilities.” Okay, Scotty thought. That’s a bald-faced lie. “However, we are facing a life-force that we have never even seen before. The Captain, Dr. McCoy, and I feel that it would be most beneficial for all of us if I were to be here.”

“McCoy?!”

“He thought logically. Now, Mr. Scott, please be quiet as I am attempting to recalibrate the engines.”

“I can do that!”

“But there is no room for error, Mr. Scott.”

Error. Scotty decided to stand back and let Spock do his thing; completely shocked and broken by what he had said.

* * *

As the day went on, Scotty had time to process and think about what happened - and he was angry. He stormed into his room; barely able to keep himself from stomping his feet like a child. As soon as the door closed behind him he began punching his pillow. He threw it across the room and when he went to go get it, he shoved his face in it and screamed louder than he ever had before.

He collapsed onto his bed and just lay there thinking with a scowl resting on his face. How could Kirk, Spock, and McCoy have such little faith in him? After all he’d done? After all the times he was able to boost warp speed and save their lives? How could they just betray him like this?

He didn’t have a wife or children on earth. The last time he even tried to get with a woman he had been accused of murdering her and other women too. He had a sister and a nephew, but she didn’t want her boy to have anything to do with him or Starfleet because of a dispute.

His parents had died years ago and left him materials in their will to build his dream ship - the Enterprise. Even just having the “O’l Girl” made him feel sentimental about his parents; he thought of her as the last thing his parents gave him before they died. This infuriated his sister. She was left with her parents’ business - which she never wanted (not that they knew) and wasn’t left with anything to fulfill her own dreams. She was so jealous of her brother that she had ostracized him from her family ever since. His parents were both the only children in their families, so he had no aunts, uncles, or cousins. Now he had no one, except the Enterprise. This ship was his baby. She was all he had.

And apparently he wasn’t good enough for her.

***

The next morning he woke up early, still annoyed at the previous day’s events.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“It is 2:03 A.M. on Friday, April 1st 2268.” Scotty paused.

“Computer, what day is it?” he asked wanting to make sure he heard it right.

“April 1st.” April Fool’s Day. Perfect. He could get revenge and get away “Scott-free.” Maybe he could change the times on Kirk, Spock, and McCoy’s clocks? Maybe he could go old school and put saran wrap outside their doors so they'd walk into it. He kept thinking and then he remembered little capsules from his childhood that would freeze liquid. He'd drop them in his parents' coffee, water, stew, soup - anything liquid - on April Fool's day. Then it came to him; the idea exploding in his head. Their food. All he'd have to do was rewire the mainframe of the food synthesizer to mess up their orders. And since the machine recognized each person individually by their voice, he could have it only affect the three culprits. "Ready to help me pull a prank, Ol' Girl?" He asked the ship as he took up his tool bag and looped it around his neck and shoulder like a tricorder. "I'll fix ya right back up afterwards."

With that, he headed out of the room and passed through the hallways. The ship’s soft hum rang through the Scotsman’s ears and its low constant tone was the only sound present at this time of night. He snuck passed the doors along the walls, tiptoeing as quietly as a sleeping tribble - not that there would be any on his ship. Anymore...

His heart pounded within his chest as he trod through the long passageways; wary of the possibility that someone might emerge from their quarters and spot him. He carefully paid attention to his direction and his footing in an attempt to avoid that. If he woke someone up, they would definitely see him. Then they might wake other people. Or they might mistake him for an alien and hit him with the power of their phaser.

It was in the mist of his worries that he realized where he was - Captain Kirk’s room. He had to be especially careful here. Kirk was the Captain, and for all he knew, he could already be awake; and attracting his attention was the last thing he needed. If Kirk caught him - well, he didn’t like to think of the idea of getting fired and permanently taken away from his baby.

He carefully and slowly knelt down, took off his tools and slid them across the floor to the next door. He got on his hands and knees and crawled as slow as he could. When he heard himself breathing, he quickly held his breath for the journey across the entirety of Kirk’s room. Five feet down, he thought to himself, at least fifteen more to go. He sighed in relief when he reached his tools, for Kirk not having come out, and continued his trek. He had passed the Captain’s Quarters; there was no going back now.

He entered the Mess Hall and turned on the lights. Eyeing the synthesizer, he made his way over; feeling more determined with each step. He set his tool bag down on a table, took out what he knew he needed, and set to work.

“They’ll call me to fix it, and when I do, they’ll remember what I can do.”

However, he was so distracted, that he forgot one very important flaw in his plan...

***

“Tuna salad sandwich with a side salad and ice cold water.” Sulu said, and in a grand total of three seconds, the synthesizer gave it to him.

“Caesar salad and water” Uhura asked.

“Chicken nuggets and french fries with barbeque sauce and a medium root beer” was Chekov’s request. Kirk came up to the machine with an arguing Spock and Bones right behind him. Chuckling to himself, he placed his order.

“BLT and an iced tea.” But what came out was anything but that. Kirk looked at his tray in confusion. Sardines and light brown coffee. Kirk repeated his order, but this time got sunny side up eggs that were drowning in ketchup and water with an grapefruit slice in it instead of the typical lemon. He didn’t even like grapefruits. Kirk sighed in defeat and walked to a table slightly annoyed. He set his tray down and went to the comm on the wall and called down to engineering. Spock stepped up for his food next.

“Plomeek soup,” but he was soon presented with a mountain of salt with a splash of tomato sauce on top, a side of asparagus, and a strawberry milkshake. McCoy asked for a well-done stake with mashed potatoes and green beans with a mint julep; and got prunes, a bowl of hot sauce, canned meat, and cranberry juice. Back at the table, the men looked at each other’s food and pondered what the problem could be.

“While we wait for Scotty, why don’t you take a look at it, Spock?” Once he was examining the machine, Kirk told McCoy that Scotty sounded a little too eager to help. “I’m going to head back to my quarters and check the security footage.”

Kirk’s stomach growled as he marched out of the mess hall and down the hallways. He was sure Scotty was behind this - accidentally or purposefully. And he was pretty sure it was on purposeful. His day had already been stressful enough already, and now this too? He wasn’t mad because his food was messed up, but because his friends’ orders were messed up. Spock and Bones were integral to the operation of this ship, they needed their strength, energy, and their best concentration. No food meant none of those. Plus, they didn’t deserve this.

“Computer,” he said as soon as his room’s door closed behind him. “Play the security footage from last night until now.”

***

Back in the mess hall, twenty minutes has passed when the comm on the wall made a beeping noise and Sulu answered.

“Sulu, send Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy down to my quarters. I need to see them immediately.”

“Is everything alright, Sir? What’s the emergency?”

“No emergency. Just a pest problem.”

“The tribbles aren’t back, are they?”

“Don’t even joke about that. Just get them here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

***

“What’s going on, Jim?” Bones asked as he and Spock entered the room.

“Look at this,” he said and played the footage. His computer screen was split into many squares, each with a different piece of footage playing. Several cameras captured Scotty roaming the halls with his tool bag - including all the stunts he pulled just to get across Kirk’s room - but one square, shown at the top right of the screen, revealed Scotty tampering with a perfectly working synthesizer.

And it captured everything.

It captured which exact tools he used, how he took off a piece of the front and was able to crawl inside. It seized the moment when he emerged covered in sweat and his hair messy and clinging to his forehead. It caught the wrinkles in his face when he smiled, even his breathing. And it recorded his fatal words, “That’ll show 'em.” Kirk turned around in his chair to speak, but McCoy did first.

“Well, that explains why he was able to fix it in five minutes.”

“What?”

“You did call for Mr. Scott to come up and repair it, Captain,” Spock added.

“Doesn’t matter. He messed with my crew. Both of your jobs require you to have the proper food and he took that away. When I get my hands on him - “

“I can assure you, Captain, our food has indeed been replaced.”

“We got exactly what we wanted to eat, so you can calm down. Besides, have you seen the date?”

“What’s the date got anything to do with it?”

“It’s April 1st!” Bones said.

“April Fool’s Day?” Jim questioned. “But then why did he say it’d show us? No one else’s order got messed up - just ours.”

“He’s around us a lot and we’re on a social level where we can pull practical jokes on each other. Everyone’s fine, no one’s hurt, and he’s too loyal for true sabotage. I think it was just a harmless prank.” Jim took a moment to carefully think about what Bones said and absorbed it like a sponge. It was April Fool’s Day, Scotty had switched up the synthesizer, quickly fixed it, and then replaced their food. The more he thought about it he began to realize that it really was just a minor inconvenience; and Scotty was close enough with them to pull a small joke. Plus, Bones was right - there was no real harm done. Soon enough, all the anger that Jim had toward Scotty was drained from his body and was replaced with mischief.

“You’re right, Bones. It was just a joke. Since it’s still April 1st, how about we pull a little prank on our little engineer?”

***

Scotty waltzed through the hall humming to himself with his chest puffed out, proud that he showed McCoy, Kirk, and Spock that he knew what he was doing. It was small, but he felt confident that this incident would remind the Captain of his abilities and would soon enough quit his nasty habit of sending Spock to the Engine room. What he didn’t expect was, as soon as he got in his quarters, to be tackled, pinned, and tickled in all of two seconds.

“Whahahat?” But when he forced his eyes open and saw the dreaded three, fiery anger blazed within him. He mustered all his strength at once and rolled out from underneath them, completely taking his attackers by surprise. After a second to process what had just happened, they quickly tried to get up, but Scotty interrupted them. The shock of his anger kept them frozen in place.

“You think this is funny,” he yelled. “You think this is a joke?! A game?!” Scotty’s breathing became heavier, the veins in his neck bulging through skin. A beat of silence passed by, although to the current pranksters, it felt much longer. Finally, Spock broke the silence.

“I did advise you against this, Captain.” Jim tried to say something back, but was cut off.

“Spock, I’m so sick of your - “

“Scotty!” Jim yelled, getting up. “What the devil is wrong with you?! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Oh, so now you care what I think,” the Scotsman yelled as he stepped closer to Kirk. “You didn’t care at all what I though about the ‘help’ in my engine room!”

“What are you talking about?” Spock and McCoy slowly emerged from their positions on the ground. They didn’t get as close to the red-shirt as their Captain was, but they were still ready to pounce in case things went even more south.

“Of course you don’t know! You don’t know that I can operate this ship either! Let alone the engines! That’s why I fiddled with the synthesizer and fixed it again!” Kirk’s anger only grew.

“I thought that was a joke, but now-”

“What? You think I’m the joke now?” Scotty’s hands turned to fists.

“What has gotten into you?! You step down right now,” Kirk said with a sense of sternness that matched the engineer’s anger. He tilted his head down to show his draining patience.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?! It was revenge! You don’t think I’m capable of running engineering, so you send that Vulcan down! You did, McCoy did, and Spock thought it would be ‘logical’ if he came down because Scotty can’t do anything without making an ‘error’! I’m sick of it!”

“We’d never seen that alien species before,” Bones cut in. “I just thought having two down there might - “

“Shut up, McCoy!”

“Mr. Scott, I will not have this kind of talk on my ship!”

“You’re ship?!”

“Yes, my ship. I’m the Captain, so it’s my ship.”

“I built it! I designed it!”

“For Starfleet!” Kirk was about to put Scotty on probation when he yelled again.

“From designs I was already working on before they asked me to build them a ship! I could’ve drawn up different designs, but I thought Starfleet could use a ship like this - my dream ship!” In his anger, he splurted out something he never wanted to discuss with anyone; let alone his Captain. “The same dream ship my parents left me materials to build it with in their will! The same ship that drove my sister and I apart! That’s why I can’t even see my only nephew!” A silence rested between them. “She’s all I have...and you don’t think I’m good enough for her.” Why did I just say that?

“...Scotty, I -”

“Please...just leave.” The three of them filed out of his room allowing him to be alone and regret what he had said.

***

In his quarters, Spock lay wide awake as he stared at his ceiling thinking about the day’s events. For someone who refused to show emotion, he had a lot of them. He was furious at the things Scotty said against his Captain and McCoy. He could almost once again feel the anger boiling within his being, the struggle to keep a straight face, and the focus to steady his breathing to not show any emotion. How badly he wanted to neck pinch him just a few short hours ago, but to do so without a direct threat to Kirk’s well being would have been illogical.

He was sad. He remembered being bullied as a child for his human half. He remembered how the Vulcan children saw him as, well, not as intelligent as they were. Was he making Scotty feel the same way? Even if he hadn’t made him feel that way exactly, he was certain that he had lost the engineer’s respect. And, even though he wasn’t one to even talk about emotions, he felt that that was the saddest of all. He had only felt this kind of pain once before - when he lost his father’s respect after going against his wishes and joining Starfleet.

He felt sorry. He yearned for things to go back as they had been. He wanted to fix it. He had to - he was not about to lose his friend as he had his father.

He was determined.

***

The next night, Scotty stayed behind in engineering, working to improve his engines. Alone. The episode from the night before had been playing on loop in his head since the incident had happened. All day all he could think about was, “Spock, I’m so sick of your...Oh, so now you care what I think...You think I’m the joke now?...It was revenge!...Scotty can’t do anything without making an ‘error’...Shut up, McCoy!”

“You’re ship?!”

“Yes my ship...The same ship my parents left me materials to build it with in their will...I can’t even see my own nephew!...She’s all I have...and you don’t think I’m good enough for her...”

“Scotty, I -”

“Please...just leave...” He was so lost in his own flashback, that, an hour later, he didn’t hear the door open.

“Scotty.” Reluctantly, the engineer turned around to face Kirk who had a satchel over his shoulder - and it didn’t even shock him when he saw Spock and McCoy there with him. “We want to talk about last night.” Upon hearing this, Scotty turned around again and got back to work. He dug his tools and gloved hands back into an engine as sparks flew; doing something Kirk wouldn’t be able to understand for the life of him - and they both knew it - because he wasn’t the Enterprise’s engineer.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“I didn’t understand how important this ship is to you. I never understood the sentiment.”

“I didn’t either,” Mccoy piped in. “I can’t say that for Spock because he doesn’t understand sentiment,” McCoy added sending a sarcastic look to the Vulcan; but for once, Spock decided to stay silent. He didn’t want to fight and annoy Scotty more.

“You weren’t supposed to know any of that. It’d do us all better to jus’ forget it happened.”

“Scotty, you’re good enough for this ship,” Kirk said. There was a silence from the engineer as he worked. “We know you’re more than good enough; and I’m sorry. We’re sorry.” Scotty’s silence still resonated, but he paused what he was doing. Kirk reached into his bag and pulled its only content out into the open for all to see. “So, we made this for you.” He turned his head and couldn’t believe what he saw.

In Kirk’s hands laid an Enterprise-shaped, stained, and polished wooden plaque with the words, “The Enterprise - NCC 1701 - Est. 2265.” Where the engine room was, it read, “Built and Owned By Montgomery James Scott.” Scotty’s eyes went wide as he slowly lowered his tools. His hands shook as he pulled off his gloves, never once taking his eyes of the glorious plaque stating his ownership of the Enterprise. As he walked over, Kirk spoke again.

“You built it, you own it. I even had Sulu take command of the ship for the day just so Spock and I could make it; and Bones stained and polished it.” Scotty gently took the plaque from Jim’s hands and grazed his fingers over the smooth and well polished wood. Barely touching it, he slowly ran the tips of his fingers over the name “Montgomery James Scott” and felt tears welling in his eyes. One trickled down his cheek as looked up from the plaque and at the three before him. Quickly, and without thinking, he pulled the three of them into a hug, hanging on tightly and not letting go.

“I can’t promise that I’ll never send Spock down here again, but I can promise that when you retire I will help you leave with this ship,” Kirk said. “Even if it means we have to steal it.”

“Thank you...Captain.” A few moments of silence passed before Scotty let go.

“I’ve gotta go put this on the wall,” he exclaimed, a wide smile gracing his face. He immediately grabbed his tools, picked a spot to display his prized plaque, and got to work. As the three of them watched his progress, McCoy leaned over and whispered something into Spock’s pointed ear and then Jim’s. Spock’s eyebrows went up and Jim smiled at the realization of Bones’ statement - it was true. How could he have forgotten?

“There,” Scotty said as he stepped back to marvel at it. “Now everyone will see it and know the Enterprise belongs to Montgomery Scott.”

“It looks beautiful there, Scotty,” Kirk said and placed a hand on his shoulder. ”However, there is one thing.” Scotty looked at him with caution, for he noticed a twinkle of mischief in Jim’s eyes. “It has been brought to my attention that we still owe you some revenge for the food synthesizer.” Scotty had a sudden flashback to when he was jumped the previous night and began to back up, a small smile already showing on his face. To be honest, he missed the camaraderie; the jokes, the playing. He missed their friendship.

“Oh no,” he said putting his hands up as he slowly backed away. Kirk playfully pushed him down and pinned an arm to the ground. As soon as the engineer was on the floor, he let Bones lay down and place his arm over his shins, putting all his weight on it by leaning; allowing him to both pin his legs and have easy access to the knees. Spock, still weary on Scotty’s opinion of him, stayed put.

“I’m pretty sure it’s OK now, Spock.” Spock stayed there, silently thinking about it for a minute; but seeing Scotty’s ever present grin, especially when the engineer looked at him, he knew it was alright. He got down on his knees and pinned his other arm with his Vulcan strength. “Sorry, Scotty,” Kirk said. “But, even though it’s your ship, I’m still the Captain; and I say that since you sabotaged our food you must suffer the consequences.” It was at that moment that Kirk gently skittered his fingers up the “poor” Scotsman’s underarm. The chief engineer gasped and with a wide grin stretched across his face, immediately tried to clamp his arm down; but Kirk had a strong hold of him. Satisfied with the reaction, he glanced at Spock, then at Bones; and then dug in. This was revenge after all; and he wasn't about to go lightly on him.

A few minutes later, Scotty began to cry through his laughter as McCoy quickly scratched his knees and Kirk and Spock attacked his stomach - his weakest point - with playful fury. They immediately got off, helped him up, and decided to take him to the mess hall for a treat from the synthesizer. However, he hadn’t been crying because of their revenge, but because as he had listened to them and looked at his new plaque, he knew that the Enterprise was no longer the only one he had.

#prompt #the idea of Spock in the engine room was based off a joke that James Doohan made #ticklish!scotty #had to google years #James Doohan made Montgomery Scotty's first name because it was his middle name so I headcanon that James is Scotty's middle name #WARNING: sad!spock #references to an episode #Star Trek TOS movie references

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soyforramen · 5 years

Text

The first day of school brought with it many things. A brutal new schedule after the lazy months of summer’s freedom. New, at least to Jughead, clothes and shoes now that he’d grown out of the old ones. Empty notebooks and cheap pencils from the dollar store. A library full of books and a cafeteria full of food The return to the ins and outs of Riverdale Elementary was rote now that he’d gone through this four times before.

Every year, like clockwork, there was something that went awry. Jellybean’s early birth the night before first grade kept Jughead and his father anxiously waiting through the difficult birth. The day before second grade found Archie breaking his arm from falling out of the treehouse while Jughead broke his ankle trying to catch him. And last year found Reggie Mantle, his goons, and Betty Cooper, already overly zealous in her environmental awareness, sneaking into the school to release all class animals back into the wild.

(Still one of the highlights of life in this boring town, an even that many had tried, and failed, to top since.)

This year promised something different. Something lighter and better. Now that Reggie, Moose, and Jason had moved onto middle school Jughead finally began to believe he could enjoy lunch and recess. He tied his flannel around his waist, a decisive fashion choice for the more conservative halls of Riverdale, and stepped out into the cloudy morning light.

The crisp hint of fall tore through the oppressive heat of summer. He’d always loved the fall and the changing of the leaves, but mostly because of the fairs that brought fried foods and sugary treats along with it.

It was looking to be a good year.

That is, until he came upon the Andrews’ residence.

As he drew nearer, a soft keening sound called his attention towards the hedge row to his left. He was struck by the oddity that neither family would leave a small animal in such distress. Jughead glanced up at the Andrews’ porch, no Archie to be found. As he neared, he saw the light in Archie’s room was still dark. Next door, the Cooper’s residence was locked up tight against the outside world.

He glanced at his watch and found he was 15 minutes early, another oddity to the day considering his father had returned early enough from his nightly escapades to wake Jughead this morning. A quick glance proved he was the only living creature on Elm Street, leaving him with a moral dilemma he’d rather avoid. His better nature, and his curiosity got the better of him and he wandered towards the hedges to investigate. Still too short to peak over the bushes he squatted down and peered through the trunks.

Whatever it was he’d been expecting, it wasn’t a bright pink pair of overalls underneath a mass of blonde, shaking hair.

“Betty?”

The wailing paused, and she turned to look at him. Her face was covered in bright red splotches and tear tracks, a sight that still broke his heart of ice no matter how many times he’d seen it.

Swaying movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye and he squatted closer to the ground for a better look. A fringe of hair stood at attention on the top of her head, defying gravity. The overall look was as if a flamingo and a cockatoo had gotten into a fight and come out the other end as conjoined twins.

Jughead bit his cheek to keep from laughing. Betty’s lower lip trembled and new tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

He cleared his throat of humor before he spoke again. “What happened?”

The responding sniffle was enough of a warning Jughead was able to brace himself against the onslaught of verbiage he didn’t realize anyone was capable of this early in the morning.

“Cheryl and Jason came by to pick up Polly to go to school, even though Polly knows we’re not supposed to let anyone in the house if they’re not home, and Cheryl put her gum in my hair and Polly didn’t want to be late for her first day and Mom and Dad already were at work so I tried putting some of Polly’s hair stuff in my hair to get the gum out, but that didn’t work, so then I tried cutting it out and now I look like a weird space alien and Mom’s going to kill me and look at my hair it’s ruined forever and everybody’s gonna hate me -”

Betty came to a crashing stop, finally running out of air. Jughead started to speak, to try and tell her it wasn’t that bad, a little uneven and unique, but it still wouldn’t make her any different of a person, but she was already too far gone for any attempt at optimism.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she wailed. Her proclamation made to the world, she tucked her head into the crook of her elbow and resumed her crying.

Distressed at so many tears - he’d never been able to stand anyone crying, doubly so now that his baby sister was able to articulate, in excruciating detail, why she was crying - Jughead tried to think of something to cheer Betty up.

“I thought you liked school.”

This only made Betty turn away from him.

Well. Shit. Where was Archie when you needed him? Ah, right. Rushing around after sleeping through his third alarm.

“Do you want to -” Jughead trailed off, unable to find any words at all. Not even a ‘the.’

There was that one time in kindergarten, now that he thought about it, when he’d gotten gum in his hair. It wasn’t a malicious thing, not like Cheryl’s act of terror. Rather, Ethel had been chasing him on the playground, trying to get him to play house or something equally gross, and he’d tripped over his untied shoelaces. And Ethel had fallen on top of him, her big wad of Fruit Stripe gum landing in the space between his beanie and his hair.

His mother had thankfully been able to save the last thing he had from his favorite uncle. Jughead, on the other hand, had to be shaved almost bald after his father attempted to fix the problem himself.

But hadn’t there been something about peanut butter first? And hadn’t his mother made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just this morning?

Jughead reached into his backpack and pulled out the square container. Betty watched him, her tears now silent. He pulled off the lid and peeled the bread apart. Gingerly setting down the jelly half, he moved the peanut butter laden slice towards Betty.

“What about -”

She caught his wrist before he could get close to her hair. Through a sniffle, she reminded him, “The gum’s gone, Juggie.”

So what was the problem? His face must have telegraphed his confusion because Betty let out a choked laugh.

“I ruined my hair trying to fix it. If I got to school like this,” she gestured to her wrong sided mohawk, “everybody will make fun of me and I won’t have any friends.”

Still not sure what the problem was, Jughead put his sandwich back together and took a bite. “Me and Archie will still be your friends,” he said.

Betty snorted and tore a piece of his sandwich off. She popped it into her mouth and scrubbed at her cheeks.

“You two don’t count.” At his offended look, she added, “you two will always be my friends. I meant -”

“Everybody who counts.”

She sighed and nodded.

As painful as her words might sound, Jughead wasn’t offended by them. He knew what she meant, especially in a small town like this. The Jones’ had a reputation that had most people on the north side of the tracks clutching their pearls as they delighted in gossip about them, while the Andrews’ were a sturdy family without interest in rising through the ranks of small-town society. A society that bled down even to their children.

“You could wear a hat,” he suggested after a moment. “What about that Kermit one you got last year?”

She shook her head. “The house is locked. And even if I wanted to, Ms. Crabapple doesn’t let us wear hats.”

Jughead took another bite and chewed, his jaw turning the gears in his head. An idea brewed, one he hated with every ounce of his being. It meant giving up a part of himself, becoming a part of everyone he hated in school.

Across the hedge, Betty’s tears dripped onto her overalls. The hot pink dots stared at him expectantly. With a heavy sigh he pulled off his beanie and held it out to her. She reached for it, paused, and stared at him.

“Take it. I think you need it more than me today.”

Betty’s lower lip trembled, and Jughead steeled himself for another round of tears. A door slammed shut behind him and he heard Archie’s voice.

“But -”

“Take it, Cooper, of Archie’s gonna get an eyeful of your Guile cosplay and I’m pretty sure he’s more of a Chun-Li type of guy.”

Betty took the beanie and gingerly slipped it over her head. It covered her ill-inspired fringe and, unless she removed it, she looked like she did in the cold of winter.

“If anybody asks, I lost a bet,” Jughead said. He took the last bite of his sandwich, his stomach already protesting at the loss of lunch, and stood.

Archie approached them, none the wiser to Betty’s follicle foibles, and said his hello’s to both her and Jughead. They walked to school together that day, like they always had, and if anybody noticed Betty wearing a beanie, they didn’t comment, though Mr. Finch did make a snide comment about Jughead finally growing up.

(Best of all, Mrs. Cooper had sent Betty with an eggplant lasagna filled with three types of cheese, a lunch that Betty happily shared.)

That afternoon, they waited until Archie went inside to make the exchange.

“Thanks,” Betty said softly. She ran a hand through what was left of her hair and winced. “Mom’s going to kill me.”

Jughead shrugged and slipped the beanie back to its rightful place. The tension that had lined his body slipped away as it settled over his hair. “I think she’d be more angry with Polly for not helping you.”

“Maybe. Polly wouldn’t ever forgive me though.” She scuffed at the ground between them. “I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Like you said, we’re friends. I don’t want to have to make an effort to find new ones.”

“Right,” Betty laughed. “You’re not really good at that, huh?”

“The worst. I’ll see you tomorrow, Betts.”

“Night, Juggie.”

#riverdale fanfiction #have some flash fiction for your friday night #i only went back through this once #a miracle for me

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marvel-af · 5 years

Text

For The Best (Part 4)

Part 4 of my angsty nurse!Peter x reader! This is rough and i hate it so im sorry lol. if anyone actually reads these little blurbs reply with ‘frito’. hope you enjoy!

Words: 3577

Warnings: Cancer, Depression, Peter parker needs help, bald heads

My Masterlist is linked in my bio!

“So, what’s going to happen is, we are going to blast that tumor with some chemotherapy, you are going to rock a totally epic bald head and then once we’ve seen enough shrinkage, we’ll hit ‘em with some radiation and then totally cut open your stomach and get that bastard out of you!” Dr. Barton enthuses.

A small smile creeps onto Y/N’s face when she hears the confidence in his voice. Part of her starts to believe that maybe she has a shot.

The other part of her wants the treatment to fail. But she would never say that.

“Thank you Dr. Barton. Seriously.” Y/N says.

“Ya know what? You, my friend, have earned the right to call me Clint.” He laughs.

“Okay Clint.”

Dr. Barton leave the room with a short nod and a smile on his face.

“Oh Y/N, I totally forgot to ask, when is your dad gonna come in? It’ll probably take a few days to get a flight out here, right?” Sarah asks. Y/N feels a pit drop to her stomach.

“Oh yeah, he’s not coming. He said he couldn’t get off work.” Y/N lies.

“Really! Damn they wouldn't let him take off to see his sick daughter in the hospital? That’s fucking insane.” Sarah fumes.

“Uh, yeah, crazy.” Y/N says shortly, trying to end the conversation. Sarah huffs and furrows her brows.

“Weird.”

“Hey we brought food!” Peter exclaims. Y/N lets out a small groan.

“I can’t eat.” She mumbles.

“What? Why? I thought the deal was if we brought you food, we could eat in here?” Ned asks.

“Yeah but my chemo starts today. And doesn’t that make you kinda sick?” Y/N asks. MJ nods her head, but Peter’s face falls immediately.

“Oh my God! I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry Y/N!” Peter says bringing his hand up to smack his forehead.

“No, it’s fine. I’d rather be hungry for a little bit, then throw up again.” Y/N shrugs.

‘So are you nervous?” Ned asks, before getting hit in the shoulder by MJ.

“I mean, yeah.” Y/N laughs.

Peter is racked with concern. He knew Y/N is in the hospital for cancer and that eventually she would have to get treatment, but his time as a nurse allowed him to see the toll that it takes and a person.

The hair loss, the weight loss, and sunken features.

He hates to think about Y/N after treatment, but it’s inevitable. She has cancer. She is going through treatment.

He just doesn’t want to watch another person he cares about die. After his uncle Ben died in his arms, Peter feels this urge to protect people and when he saw Y/N sitting on that roof, he knew that Y/N had become one of those people.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Y/N asks, breaking Peter from his train of thought.

“Oh, uh nothing important.” Peter whispers. “You know, I could come in, say hi or something? Give you some company?”

“When?”

“During your chemo?” Peter says. The group must have been focused on something else. Peter meets Ned’s glare and gives him a confused look. What did he do to deserve a glare?

“Oh yeah sure. I could use some more company, give Sarah a break.” Y/N laughs.

“Cool, I’ll see you then.”

Y/N sits in the large chair. It’s comfortable, but she assumes it has to be considering the two hours of sitting she’s about to do. Nerves rack her body when she sees the nurse come over with the chemo bag and a needle. The needle that’s going to stay lodged into her skin for almost two hours, dispensing chemicals into her bloodstream. It’s going to kill her hair while trying to take out the cancer.

The nurse grabs her arm and brings the needle to the crook of her arm.

“Wait!” Y/N exclaims, jerking her arm away from the nurse.

“Y/N come on. This stuff is going to make you better! It may hurt now, and the needle’s gonna sting, but think about going home, going back to school, seeing our friends. Think about going back to normal.” Sarah encourages.

Y/N clenches her eyes shut and shoves her arm back out. She flinches when the nurse touches her arm again, this time with a softer touch than last. Her teeth grit as she thinks about the words Sarah said.

They weren’t good enough.

But Y/N can put on a face. She can let the nurse stick her with the needle, which she does, and she can pretend to care if she comes out of the hospital alive.

The nurse puts a hand on Y/N’s shoulder before walking away. The needle is secured with tape and Y/N swears she can feel the chemo flowing through her veins.

“The needle hurts.” Y/N groans, leaning back in the chair.

“I know hun.”

Peter looks through the glass door of the chemo area, watching Y/N play a card game with Sarah. A small smile creeps onto his lips when Y/N perks up, seeing him in the room. He quietly walks over to where she’s sitting, careful to not let the other nurses see him. He pulls over a chair and positions it close to her.

“How ya holding up?” Peter says resting his hand on her knee. Peter doesn’t know what came over him, but he started to rub his thumb along her leg.

“My face is hot. Almost like I have a fever. And my skin is like super sensitive.” Y/N whines. Peter quickly pulls his hand off her legs, apologizing profusely. Y/N wishes he never moved his hand, because it felt so good.

“Don’t worry about it. Felt good.” Y/N blushes. Peter notices her cheeks become red and she was looking at him through her lashes. Almost bashful.

“Well good.” Peter says resting his hand lightly on her knee once again. After a few moments of Y/N relishing in the comfort, Peter checks his watch.

“Shit, I gotta go back to the emergency room. See you tomorrow?”

“Uh yeah.”

Peter smiles and then rushes to the door, where he sees Ned looking through the glass at Y/N.

“You going in to say hi?” Peter asks.

“No, I’m wondering what the hell that was.”

“What’re you talking about?” Peter laughs. Ned glares at him.

“Oh, Y/N let me visit you everyday. Oh Y/N let me leave my job to say hi to you. Oh, Y/N let me put my hand on your knee.” Ned mocks as the two walk down to the emergency room.

‘Dude what the hell? I’m just trying to support her. You were there on the roof an-and I would hate to see that happen again.” Peter scowls.

“I get it Peter, but you don’t see MJ and I going to visit her when she’s in chemo. You’re falling for her.” Ned says. All of the thoughts in Peter’s mind swarm to the thought of Y/N. Of course he doesn’t like her, right?

“No I don’t. I’m just trying to be supportive. I don’t want to see her,” Peter grits his teeth and slowly pushes out his next words, “kill herself.”

“Peter, I get that, but that is not your job. Okay? I want you to get that through your head. It’s not your job to save her.” Ned says, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter rolls his eye and tries to ignore the stinging sensation in his eyes.

“I-I know, but I just don’t want to see anyone else die.” Peter chokes out. Ned pulls Peter into a hug in the middle of hallway.

Tears that Peter had been holding back finally fall free and he sobs onto Ned’s scrubs. He pulls away quickly, sniffing and wiping at his eyes.

‘God, I’m sorry. It happened in high school, I should be over this by now.”

“It’s okay Pete. You should wash your face. You’ll feel better.” Ned says placing his hand on his shoulders and pushing him toward the nearest bathroom.

Ned knew of the pain and guilt Peter felt when his uncle died. He knew that Peter feel as if it was his fault, that if he had just been there sooner the outcome might have been different. Ned knew that Peter has never treated for the depression and anxiety that heavily surfaced in high school, not due to negligence on his aunts part, but due to money being tight. Ned knows that in college Peter nearly went off the rails, drinking himself to near oblivion. He knows about Peter’s fight to get himself better, to focus on his studies. He knew the only reason Peter wanted to get into the medical field was because he wanted to help people, because he couldn't help Ben.

Ned had watched and helped Peter as he fought to deal with his trauma. He knew Peter had coping mechanisms that made him feel the need to protect everyone.

And he knew he wouldn’t be able to get Peter to stop.

Once Peter has washed his face and calmed down enough, he remembers the conversation that sparked the meltdown.

“Ned, listen. I don’t like Y/N and I’m not falling for her. I just feel like I have to do my part and help her out. And that’s just part of my being and I won’t be able to stop, so.” Peter says.

“Okay. I just don’t want to see you lose your job, I’m just looking out for you man.” Ned smiles.

“Thanks,” Peter pauses, “ We should get back down to the ER before we actually get fired though.”

Ned nods and the pair rushes down to the ER.

Sarah was messing around on her phone when what seemed like the 100th text message asking about Y/N came through. Sarah huffed lightly.

“Y/N, you should post something, giving everyone the rundown, because if I get one more text asking how you are, I’m going to throw my phone through a wall.”

“I’m not posting anything.” Y/N mumbles.

“God you’re stubborn. If you don’t post, then you can answer all these messages.” Sarah says tossing her phone onto Y/N.

“No I don’t want pity and all my family is going to give me is pity.” Y/N says, handing the phone back. Sarah groans.

“Whatever.”

Y/N feels uncomfortable. Her throat is dry and her head is pounding. Her skin feels as if it’s on fire, the only comfort was felt when Peter put his hand on her leg.

“So… Peter’s cute.” Sarah smiles.

“W-What?” Y/N sputters, utter confusion pouring through her veins, along with the chemo.

“He’s cute. You should go for it. He’s obviously into you.” Sarah states, as if it’s the most obvious statement ever.

“Dude, Derek literally just broke up with me and in case you haven’t noticed I think I have my hands full right now.” Y/N says motioning to the needle still stuck in her arm.

“You’re a real buzzkill today.” Sarah laughs.

“Well I guess cancer does that to me.” Y/N smiles back.

“Well, I need to pee, don’t miss me too much.” Sarah says getting up and leaving the chemo room.

As she sits on the toilet she scrolls through her Instagram, and she sees a post that piques her interest.

It’s of Y/N’s father, sitting in a bar with all of his friends, captioned; No worries here, All is good.

Sarah scoffs. Anger fuels her next actions of leaving the bathroom and calling Paul. It rings a few times before he picks up and greets her with a cheery tone.

“Sarah? How are you dear?”

“How am I? Not good Paul! I’ve been in the hospital everyday with your daughter, taking care of her, and you have the audacity not only not to come visit your very sick daughter, but to post something saying ‘no worries’!” Sarah rants.

“Woah Sarah slow down! What do you mean Y/N is very sick?” Paul questions.

“Wow, you don’t even remember the phone call. Y/N has cancer and you said you couldn’t take off work! I knew Y/N had one deadbeat parent, but this is ridiculous.” Sarah scoffs.

“WHAT!” Paul yells so loud, that Sarah has to pull the phone away from her ear.

“Y/N said she called you?”

“I haven't spoken to Y/N in a little over a week. Y/N has cancer?” Paul whispers.

‘I am so sorry Paul, but yes.”

“Well, what hospital are you guys at? I need to come.” Paul says, and Sarah can hear him moving around in the background.

“Uh, Mercy Grace, it’s the one closest to her apartment.” Sarah says, wondering how Y/N will react when her dad shows up.

“Sarah thank you so much for taking care of her. I’ll be there in a few days.” Paul says before hanging up. Sarah nods, as if Paul would see it.

She lets out a deep breath and leans herself against the wall.

Y/N is going to kill her.

Sharp pains wake Y/N up. A groan falls from her lips and she jumps up out of the Y/N, pushing the ‘call nurse’ button. She quickly walks over to the bathroom and kneels by the toilet.

It takes a second, but before she can try to hold it in, she’s vomiting into the toilet. The door to the bathroom opens and the nurse hold’s Y/N’s hair back as she dry heaves into the toilet. Once Y/N feels like the vomiting is over, she leans away from the toilet. She looks like a mess, there’s a bit of vomit left on her chin sits on the floor.

“Alright honey, do you think you’re done?” The nurse asked softly. She nods and wipes at her face with the sleeve of her gown. The nurse hands her a small cup of water and tells her to gargle and spit.

Once Y/N is done in the bathroom, the nurse gently helps her up and brings her back to bed.

“I thought if I didn’t eat before the chemo I wouldn’t throw up.” Y/N whimpers.

“Honey, chemotherapy takes a lot out of a person, but your already doing great. You only threw up once after your first round! I’ve seen people sit by the toilet for hours after their first round. Trust me, you can do this.” The nurse says, holding onto Y/N’s hand.

“Thank you.” Y/N rasps.

“Anytime sweetheart, just press the button if you need anything else.” The nurse smiles.

Groaning, Y/N opens her eyes, seeing Sarah already sitting in the seat next to her bed.

“I feel like shit.”

“Good morning to you too. You want me to get a nurse?” Sarah jokes.

“No, no one else should be subjected to seeing me today.” Y/N grumbles. She begins to push herself out of bed when every muscle in her body feels sore.

“Oh God.” Y/N whispers through gritted teeth. She finally manages to get herself out of bed and she shuffles to the bathroom. It takes her a few seconds to figure out the shower head but once she does, it turns on with a loud burst of water.

“Are you sure you’re allowed to do that?” Sarah asks, entering the bathroom.

“Take a shower? I think so.” Y/N says. Why would she be allowed to take a shower? She not a child, sure she has cancer, but she knows how to take a shower by herself.

“I think I should ask a nurse.”

Y/N huffs and crosses her arms as Sarah jogs out of the room to flag down a nurse. When Sarah and a nurse enter, she is finally granted permission to shower.

“Wow thanks guys.” Y/N deadpans.

Y/N gets in the shower and her screaming muscles finally subside. The water pressure isn’t great, and in a way Y/N wishes that she was back in her apartment, with her shower and her nice shampoo and her fluffy towels.

But she’s not.

While Y/N is lost in her own thoughts, she runs her hands through her hair absentmindedly. It’s not until her fingers leave her hair that Y/N realizes the problem. The amount of hair in her hands is enough to make Y/N’s heart race. Quickly, she lets the running water get the hair off her hands and down the drain, then she turns the water off and dries her body. There’s a new gown laying on the toilet which Y/N throws on and then races back to the bed.

“Aren’t you going to going to dry your hair?” Sarah asks, brows furrowed.

“No.”

“But your pillows?”

“I’m not touching my hair.” Y/N says stubbornly.

Something must have clicked in Sarah’s brain because she drops the topic and lets Y/N’s tired body fall back asleep.

Loud knocking on the door rouses Y/N enough for her to hear what’s going on, but not enough to wake her up.

“Hey!” Peter exclaims.

“Shh! Y/N’s sleeping. I don’t think today might be the best day to hang out.” Sarah whispers.

“Why? What happened?” MJ asks.

“She wasn’t feeling well when she woke up. And I think she might have started to lose her hair. She just doesn’t really want people to see her today.”

“It’s okay. We get it. Just tell her we stopped by.” Peter frowns. Sarah close the door with an apologetic smile.

“Want to go to the roof?” Ned asks.

“Yeah sure, let’s go.” MJ agrees. The two begin to walk away, but Peter stays by the door, eyes downcast and a large frown planted across his lips.

“Peter, come on buddy.” Ned whispers, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I-I just want to help her. If she closes herself in, she won’t, won’t-” Peter cuts off.

“I know buddy. There’s nothing we can do now.” Ned says. Peter shakes his head.

“I don’t get it! We have to do something” Peter yells. His eyes clouding with tears.

“Alright you need to calm down.” Ned whispers, trying to pull Peter away with a sharp yank. He snaps back to himself with the jolt.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Let’s go.” Peter whispers, hanging his head and heading to the elevator. Ned and MJ share a look before walking after him.

“Peter look, Ned and I are worried about you.” MJ says standing in front of Peter, who’s sitting on the couch.

“What?” Peter says through a mouth food of Chinese food.

“We think you need to talk to someone. The hospital has a program and we think you should sign up.” MJ says, Ned nods his head behind her.

Peter sighs. He knows he has a lot of issues, and that Y/N’s situation is making them more prominent. But he didn’t need therapy back then when it really happened, and he turned out fine.

Mostly fine.

But his best friends are worried about him. He knows he should take their advice and get help, but he doesn’t want to have anyone else feel sorry for him. That list of people is already too long. He can’t go visit Aunt May without her looking at him with those eyes that make him want to break down crying.

He knows he should do it.

“Yeah.” Peter nods.

“Yeah?”

“You guys are right. I’ve gone too long without help.” Peter says.

“Okay, well Ned and I signed you up already, you go in on Friday. Only thing is it’s every Friday, during our lunch break.”

Peter’s fists tighten.

“But what about Y/N?” Peter pushes out.

“Well MJ and I are still going to visit her and we’ll update you on what happened.” Ned rushes. Peter relaxes a little bit, still semi-upset that they scheduled it for him.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Great.”

“Y/N wake up!” Sarah yells shaking her arm.

“What!” Y/N grunts. She opens her eyes and leans up in the bed, seeing Peter, MJ and Ned, standing in the room with scissors and an electric shaver.

“What’s going on?” Y/N questions.

“We just thought that you shouldn’t have to be insecure about your hair. So, instead of waiting for it all to fall out, let’s just shave it.” Ned says excitedly. Y/N looks at Sarah, who is smiling widely and nodding her head.

“Okay.” Y/N agrees. Peter moves to help Y/N get out of bed, but she refuses help.

“Y/N, please.” Peter extends his arm and when Y/N sees the seriousness in his face, she grabs it. He leads her into the bathroom, where MJ hand pulled in a chair.

“Alright let’s get shaving!” MJ laughs. Y/N feels a small smile creep up onto her face. The first true smile in a few days. MJ uses the scissor to cut her hair short, the ground filling with the locks.

Once she finishes, she helps Y/N stand up and look in the mirror. Y/N smiles and runs and hand over her bald head.

“Why do I actually like it?” Y/N laughs.

“Because it looks good.” Peter smiles.

Y/N turns around to face him.

“Thanks.”

Tags:

@xxxxdelenaxxxx @dashlilymark @itsteatimelovely @starkillazz @sarahsassafras13@brokenuntilapril26th2019 @casuallytumblingdownthestairs

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achildswriting-blog · 5 years

Text

splash! | chapter one

zach morris x reader

chapter one - nostagie de la boue

Y/N Nicholson hugged her blue varsity sweater closer to her body and hurried quickly insider her hotel. It was starting to get a little cold and Y/N didn't really feel like getting her Father mad for staying out of the hotel too long.

The hotel had been her home for as long as she could remember, so so many memories and so many sweet moments had happened here and she could not wait to create some new ones.

The second she walked into the hotel she had grown up in, she was crowded with smiles and jovial hellos. Politely waving to everyone she knew, she hurried over to the bellhop.

Y/N grinned and hurried over to a light-brown haired boy and placed her hands over his eyes, "Guess who?"

Derek groaned but smiled, "Hmm, could it be my favorite friend in the world?"

Surprising Y/N, he quickly spun around and brought her tiny self into a hug. "How've ya been kiddo?"

"I'm only a month younger than you, chump."

"Exactly. Honey bunches of oats, a whopping 30 days younger."

"Speaking of which," Y/n dug into her sweater pocket and fished out a small blue box, "Here ya go, doofus."

"Thank you, milady." Derek opened the box to see a set of keys.

"Is this what I think it is?" He yelled loudly causing people's attention to divert to the excited pair.

"Probably not."

"Oh, it better be what I'm thinking it is." Derek burst out of the hotel doors into the backyard porch and straight into a shiny new golf-cart.

"YES! Y/N I COULD KISS YOU RIGHT NOW!!" He shouted and twirled the h/c haired girl around.

She burst out laughing, "I'm going to wait till you realize what you said."

"Oh, honey, I am so happy right now, I could be saying I want to die, right here, right now and I would be completely content with it." That comment surprised Y/N, she knew Derek would never ever say that in his life, he was lucky to be alive. When he was around 9 or 10 he had cancer and the hotel had sponsored him so he could pay for leukemia.

That was actually how the pair had met.

It was the year of 1984 and Y/N and Staci were playing Neighbors inside the hotel. Y/N was currently a rich single Mom, who dumped her husband for money and Staci was a poor widow, who was secretly a princess in disguise and was left with a cat to take care of.

"Staci, why don't you want to be a Mama?" Y/N asked as she pretended to shovel some baby food into her doll's mouth.

"Because I could never leave Princess Whiskers alone." Staci grinned and placed a crown on the poor Cat's head. Princess Whiskers was all dolled up in a princess fairy outfit with a wand all everything.

"But you could also have a baby too."

"I don't like babies, their too stinky." Staci wrinkled up her nose.

"I love babies. I want to have 50 kids when I get older and my Hubby will have to drive them all to school on a school bus!"

"What's a Hubby?"

"I don't know, it's what Mommy calls Daddy when they're alone."

"Oh...Okay."

"My Princesses!" Mr.Carowski clapped his hands excitedly.

"Hello, Daddy!" Staci ran up to her Father in a Sleeping Beauty outfit.

"Uncle Cawosche!" Y/N threw her doll in the air and hugged him, completely forgetting about her doll.

Y/N's Mother came up behind the hugging trio and laughed quietly at a grumpy Princess Whiskers, taking pity on the cat, she walked over to him and took him out of the wonderful costume.

"Girls, you need to clean up your mess." Heidi L/N rolled her eyes at the mess before all of them. "Then we are going on a trip to meet someone special."

"Ooo! Is it Nana and Poppop!" Y/N asked excitedly, they were Y/N's favorite people, they always gave her a bunch of candy and sweets.

"No, we are going to see a boy your age."

"He is very sick, so you both have to be very nice," Mr.Carowski said and picked up a few toys.

Once, everyone was finally done cleaning up, the L/N family and the Carowski family headed over to Malibu Beach Children's Hospital {a/n; i don't know man, just go with it}. The drive was about fifteen minutes, which wasn't that long but with everyone all packed in like sardines in one car felt like it took a full hour.

"Alright, everyone out of the car," Heidi said as the car reached the parking lot.

The Gang walked into the hospital and ignored the weird looks they were getting, after all they had Mr.L/n in a fancy suit, Mrs.L/n, Mrs.Carowki, and Adelaide who were in summer dresses, and Staci and Y/N who looked happy in a hospital which was definitely abnormal.

"Hello," Mr.Carowki greeted in his Boston accent, "We are here to see the Arthurs? Derek Arthur?"

As the adults figured out where the rooms were, Y/N was trying to find where all the blood and dead bodies were and Staci was trying to convince her not too.

"I'll tell!" Staci stomped her foot and stuck her nose in the air.

"You're such a tattletale!" Y/N glared, "C'mon, come with me. Don't you want to see Dead People?"

"No! They are stinky!"

"Everything's stinky! You're stinky! Let's go!"

"I am not stinky!" Staci screeched.

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Too!"

"Not!"

"TOO!"

"NOT!"

"Hey! Hey! Girls, what's going on here? Your Fathers on an important phone call, Y/N. You know better than that!"

"Y/N wanted to go sneak away and see dead bodies and I stopped her! But she called me stinky!"

"Tattletale." Y/N grumbled under her breath.

"Did you call her stinky Y/N?"

"Yes."

"Apologize."

"But then I'll be lying, Mama and you told me to never lie."

"Y/NNNN."

"I sorry. But I not sorry! I not sorry!" Y/N started to cry, she did not want to apologize because she was right! Staci was such a poopy pants!

"Okay, the room is- oh, Y/N why are you crying?"

"It's not important, Paulie. Let's just go."

"Alright, alright." The two families headed over to meet the parents of Derek Arthur, a boy facing a deathly cancer with no fears.

The parents greeted each other and introduced Y/N and Staci who were again fighting about sneaking away.

"Y/N, you can't."

"mhm." The girl replied distractedly as she tried to peak through windows. The pair hurried on, with Staci too busy saying how dangerous it was to notice they were slowly moving further and further away from their parents.

Y/N peeked into the last window of a hallway and something struck inside of her. She felt curiousity. The boy had no hair, was very skinny, and was entirely alone except for his trains that he was playing with.

Y/N grinned and looked for a door handle, finally becoming successful with finding the lock. Y/N opened the door and carefully snuck inside.

Staci gasped, "No! Y/N! We can't do this."

"Oh, c'mon Staci, don't be such a party pooper."

"I am not a party pooper!"

"Hi." A voice echoed behind them. Y/N turned around to see the boy looking at them confusedly but excitedly.

Y/N grinned, "Hello, my name is Y/N. Why do you have no hair?"

Staci gasped, "Y/N, you can't just ask them why their bald." {Whoever gets this refrence first gets a chapter dedicated to them}

"Why not?"

"You just can't. Anyway, sorry for coming in here. We'll just get out."

"No!" The boy said quickly, "No, no, it's okay. You can stay if you want to."

Y/N smirked she liked this boy already, even more than Staci and she doesn't even know what his name is. Y/N ran over to his hbed, dragging Staci along by the hand and hopped on the bed, "I like your trains. What's their names?"

"Names?"

"Ya, don't you name your trains?"

"No."

"Oh, then let's name them now!"

The boy shrugged, "Okay. What's the red ones name?"

"Hmm," Y/N thought back to her 3rd grade class, there was a boy who wore red to school every single day, "Let's name him Derek."

"Hey! That's my name!" Derek grinned.

"Perfect!" Y/N squealed

"Well, look what the cat brought in." A voice sneered at them, causing Y/N to lose her thoughts.

Y/N grimaced, not wanting to turn around but did anyway, "How are you, Stace?"

"Don't call me that." She snapped.

"Staci, I've told you a million times, I am sorry, but there was nothing I could have done. He kissed me, not the other way around."

"That's not what he's told me."

"You're really going to believe him over me." Y/N was close to tears, she hated her and Staci fighting like this. They had been best friends since they were tiny.

"Well, looks like you two found each other. How have you been, Y/N?" She heard a slight italian accent and a hand clap her shoulder.

"Great." She hugged a man that was like a second Father to her. "How've you been?"

"Splendid, now how is you're father?"

"Oof, I would start getting the Arnold Palmers ready. The airport messed up and accidentally sent our luggage to Tulsa, Oklahoma."

"Hmm, never heard of it."

"Me neither, I think I'm going to start getting ready for dinner. Father would be very mad at me if I looked like this." She hugged Mr.Carowski again, then moved onto Derek and mummured, "Happy Birthday...Idiot."

"We'll be celebrating you're birthday soon, Y/N." Mr. Carowki grinned after she wedged herself out of Derek's grip.

"I can't believe you'll be 16! I mean, wow, I remember when you were an itty bitty baby." Derek laughed and ruffled Y/N's blonde hair.

The group of three continued her conversation when she heard, "HEY! ISN'T THAT Y/N!"

Then a Screech, "Screech! Shut up! Y/N's not coming back."

"But she's right there, Zach. Lisa, my love, don't you see Y/N."

"If you call me love again, I swear, you won't have any of your teeth left after I'm finished with you. But I can't tell and I don't care, I just want to eat."

That's when Y/N knew she had to turn around, but she was called inside by her Father and once she looked back again, they were gone. She must have been dreaming.

Y/N quickly slipped her heels on as she raced down the steps, her curled hair flying in the air behind her, she grabbed the end of her gown and started to trot to the separate dining room, where they had weddings and special events, or just the L/N's for dinner. The L/N's were a very prestigious family. A family where they had arranged marriages, tea in the mid-afternoon, and wore gowns for dinner.

Her older sister was tapping the toe of her heel impatiently on the stone tile, "You're late."

"I know, do I look alright?"

Adelaide scanned Y/N from head to toe, she raised her hand and placed a lock of hair back in place, "Fine."

"Good because I am wearing my finest dress-"

"Gown, not dress."

"Same difference."

"If Father or Mother heard you say that you would be dead."

"I know." Y/N gulped knowing it was true literally and figuratively.

"Good Evening, Father." Y/N bent down to kiss her Father on the cheek, shakily.

"Good Evening, Mother." Y/N kissed her Mother on the cheek and took a seat next to her. M/N silently slipped Y/N's hand in hers under the table. Y/N instantly relaxed and threw her napkin on her lap.

The server came in and said in a posh accent, "Tonight we have sal.."

The dinner went by quickly for Y/N, it mostly consisted of the occasional eating in silence and Adelaide blabbering on about her new suitor. Which was a terribly boring subject for Y/N.

"May we be excused now?" Y/N asked politely looking at her Father.

"Yes, you may. But I need to talk to Adelaide about Paul."

"Alright, goodnight."

"Goodnight." The second the doors shut both Heidi and Y/N relaxed.

"I'm going to head to bed."

"I think I will join you, I'm very sleepy."

"Yes, it is 1 in the morning our time."

"Really? Oh, the three hour time difference." Y/N rolled her eyes at her stupidness.

"Is that really you gurl?" Y/N's foot froze from reaching up to the third step, but a huge smile was written across her lips.

"Now way. Lisa Turtle?" Laughter erupted from both of them. They ran up to each other and squeezed each other hard.

Y/N broke the hug but kept her hands on Lisa's arms, "God, you look so different."

"Well, I'd hope so! But you're one to talk Y/N! Wait, till Zach sees you. He'll pee his pants."

Y/N snorted, "I hope his peeing days are over."

"Oh, honey, wait till I tell them all, they'll be so happy."

"Wait, Lisa, could you maybe not tell-"

"Y/N! Is that you?" The h/c haired girl looked to her left to see Screech Powers, "See, Lisa, I told you it was Y/N."

Y/N burst into giggles but hugged the teen tightly. "God, I missed you all."

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" Screech asked.

"You doofus, her Father owns the hotel!"

"Oh, darrr." He smacked his forehead.

"Screech, dont do that." Y/N grabbed his arm concerned.

"Ya, please don't, you'll lose the only brain cells you have left."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I'm just wondering when the wedding is."

"Y/N." Lisa gasped, "I thought you were nice!"

They all burst out laughing, {God, this is sooooo cheesy. I am so sorry.} "Y/N, I thought you went to bed with Mother."

Y/N looked up to see Adelaide, "Oh, shoot, is Father coming soon?"

"Yes, he's talking with Mr.Carowski."

"Shoot, I'd better get going guys. I'll see you tommorow, ya?"

"Yes, we need to catch up, missy. I haven't seen you in years." Screech pointed a threatening finger at Y/N

Y/N laughed, "Okay, Screech."

"I know, I saw you last year. But still, you need to tell me all the juice details of everything that's happened over the year. Especially the Staci situation and the Zach one!"

"But, Lisa-"

"Mmm, mmm, mmm, honey. You promised."

"I was hoping you would forget."

Lisa laughed, "Forget why my best friend talks about you 24/7. No, not happening, Sunshine."

"Alright, bye Lise."

"Bye, n/n."

After Lisa and Screech left, Adelaide decided to proceed her questioning, "What does Lisa mean?"

"Nothing, Addie."

"Obviously something happened between you and Zach. You know if Father finds out, you'll be in so much trouble Y/N. You know he already picked a suitor out for you."

"That doesn't mean I want one."

"Oh, please, I know you want one. You just want to be able to choose and you can! I did!"

"But I don't want some stupid, preppy idiot who only wants me for sex and cooking and keeping up their family dynasty."

"You want someone who loves you."

"Of course, I do. Who doesn't?"

After that comment, Adelaide kept quiet for the rest of the night.

Word Count: 2566

#zach morris x reader #achildswriting #splash!

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p-artsypants · 6 years

Text

Boy Toy- Act I

At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is now where to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It's safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)

I’m still working on Arcadia or Bust, but I have this weird AU already finished from like forever ago. I know I’ve been doing a lot of AUs lately, but I just really love them.

AO3 | FF.net

----

“No! I won’t go! You can’t make me!” She screamed as she threw herself on the bed. The princess kicked her perfect dainty legs into the mattress.

“It’s rude to skip out on a party,” her beloved servant, Tuff, stated.

“Especially your birthday party,” his twin sister, Ruff, replied.

Astrid looked up from where she had her face buried in her pillow. “But there’s going to be so many people that I’m going to have to shake hands with. And you know Uncle is going to stuff me into a dress.” She hid her face again. “I’m not doing it!”

The two servants looked at each other and sighed. “Why do we do this?” Tuff asked. “You whine and complain, and then you know your uncle is going to make you go anyway, even if he has to carry you in.”

Astrid rolled over on her back. “I don’t like your attitude. I took you off the streets, and I’ll put you back on them.”

Ruff smiled at the princess, looking in her closet for the right dress. “You can, but you won’t.”

Tuff sat on the mattress casually. “Yeah, then who would you throw your axe at? One of the other servants?”

Astrid mumbled. “They always flinch and get hit…”

“See? You’ll just have to tolerate us.”

Astrid sneered. “Sometimes I really hate you two.” She was lying of course, but she needed to keep her servants in their place somehow.

The trio was sequestered in the East wing, what she had dubbed as her living quarters. Thick sheets covered the windows, broadswords and heavy axes hung on the walls. The furniture was in disarray as sometimes her anger would be too much for her and she would cleave a bedpost in two. Only her most trusted servants were allowed to enter, a pair of twins that she had personally hired from off the street with no training whatsoever.

Ruff pulled out a pink taffeta dress with pink-feathered plumes sticking off the back. “Here’s the dress Dagur got you last year for your anniversary. You could wear this!”

“I thought I told you to burn that abomination,” the princess hissed.

Ruff laughed as she stuck the garment in the back of the closet. She and Tuff enjoyed teasing the princess like this. Despite how bratty her replies were, they knew that Astrid was truly happy when people interacted with her instead of just blindly following every order.

She was just bad at showing it.

Just then there was a knock at her bedroom door. Tuff opened it and greeted the nameless servant on the other side.

“His Majesty would like to talk to the Princess in his study,” the shy girl spoke.

“Here we go!” Astrid flung herself off the bed and snagged her favorite battle-axe from where it was lodged in the fine cherry wall. It was her security blanket, if only the twins knew it.

She was perfect. She had to be. The whole world was watching her, pandering to her, and adoring her. Though that adoration ran dry when she turned away. In truth, she would sooner push someone down in the mud to keep her boots clean, than to offer a hand to help them up. She viewed the world over her nose, and demanded perfection.

Astrid, the princess of Berk.

A perfect bitch.

She stomped down the hall and threw the door open to her uncle’s study. “I have arrived, oh great Stoick! Here at your beck and call!”

Stoick, the Tsar of Berk, was a stark contrast to his ‘niece’. A huge man, built like a mountain, but had the soul of a lamb. He was a quiet man, but lived to serve the people. His crimson beard, rosy cheeks, and cauliflower nose only made him look kinder. No Tsar was perfect, but if the populace of Berk had been polled, his numbers were stellar.

So how could such a kind and gentle man be related to Astrid? Well, Uncle wasn’t exactly a truth. When he had fostered her from her old kingdom, she had refused to call him ‘father’ like every councilman had asked. Stoick had suggested ‘Uncle’ instead, and she begrudgingly agreed. Even then, her past traumas had put a bleak disposition on the Princess the likes no one had seen before. Regardless, he loved her dearly, as he had no children of his own.

A parentless child, and a heirless King. Naturally, things worked out.

The monarch looked up at his niece; her blonde hair disheveled, tattered clothes, and that blasted axe.

“The party is in three hours. I expect you to be ready by then.”

“Well, you should lower your expectations.”

Oh how she vexed him. “Astrid, please, you’re turning 21. There’s going to be a lot of people here to see you.”

She huffed, “I don’t want to see them.”

“I know. I know.” Stoick stood from behind his desk and dwarfed the princess. “But tonight is very special. Tonight, you’ll be picking a husband.”

Her axe fell to the ground with a clatter. “Excuse you! I will do no such thing!”

“Yes, you will. I’ve told you this several times!”

“When? I don’t remember!”

“That’s because you never pay attention, child!” He accused. “Everyone in the line to the throne has to be married or engaged by their 21st birthday.”

“I didn’t think that applied to me!”

“I have no heirs, Astrid. Who did you think was going to take on the crown after me?”

She crossed her arms. “I think we should just become a democracy.”

Her uncle laughed and turned his back on her. “Those never work. You give people power and they vote in idiots.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t distract me from what I called you in here for.”

She grunted and dropped in a chair. “I hate this. I hate everything about my life.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

Being the ruler of a country was hard. But being a father was exhausting, Stoick was often at a loss at how to handle Astrid. As she got older, she just seemed to grow farther and farther away.

“You’re right my dear. Maybe I don’t. But I went through some difficulties when I married your aunt. A loveless marriage that ended before it even got started. God bless her soul. That’s not what I wanted for you. Which is why I mentioned it so many times before. I want you to find love. You deserve it.”

The blonde relaxed her rigid stance. “I appreciate the sentiment, Uncle…but no one would ever love me.”

“What about Dagur?”

She snatched her axe up from the ground and pointed the blade at the monarch. “Say his name again, and you’ll wake up bald!” She shrieked.

“I know, bad break up. Forget I said anything.”

Astrid twirled her weapon and rested it against the chair side.

“As for the dress…”

Astrid groaned as she slumped in her chair, her chin resting on her chest.

Stoick stepped over to the chestnut cabinet in the corner of the room. To any other person, it would look out of place and full of junk. But to the royals, the wood panels held magic. He pulled out a leather garment bag, and draped it over the desk. Astrid sat up in interest.

“I was waiting to give you this until you got older and could fit in it.”

The princess unzipped it herself. The dress inside was black with gold trim outlining the off the shoulder neckline. More gold flowers were embroidered into the bodice of the dress. Finally, the skirt melted from black to scarlet. The colors of Berk’s flag.

Astrid stared at the dress.

“It was your mother’s. I gave it to her as a gift when our kingdoms first united.”

“Yes. I’ll wear it.” And she re-zipped the bag.

If there was something he could depend on from his niece, it was her fierce loyalty to her family.

The few hours remaining before the party were quiet. Astrid had retreated to her room, and was no doubt sitting in quiet agony while Ruff did her hair.

She stood rigidly, faking her smiles to all that graced her presence. Her arms were folded gently in front of her, occasionally squeezing tightly, as the men poured into the room. They all glanced at her with knowing looks, all thinking the same thing:

“She’s going to pick me.”

The crown jewels sat on her milky collarbone, as there was no way to avoid that tradition. Along with the tiara and red sash, everything screamed untouchable royal. Despite the quaint smile and flirtatious eyes.

She really did make herself sick sometimes.

“My dear, why aren’t you mingling with the young gentlemen?” Stoick touched her shoulder, noticing not a word had come out of her bright red lips.

“Uncle…” Astrid spoke quietly, trying not to be heard, “because I don’t want to talk to the young gentlemen…if you could call them that…”

“Now Astrid, don’t be rude. I’m sure there’s a nice, handsome, quiet guy that you could take out on special occasions. Go on, be cordial.”

Rich, beautiful, eligible men as far as the eye could see. All she had to do was point, and the man that would inevitably serve her for the rest of her life would be chosen. And yet, as she danced around the room, he was not there. The man of her dreams, the man that didn’t fake smile around her, the man that could see through her act, the man that could love her for who she was; he didn’t exist. Astrid was no fool. She knew of her cruelty, she knew what was being said about her.

And yet, how could she change if there was no one to love her?

“Well, hello my darling,” A smooth voice spoke. Astrid’s foul mood plummeted into the floor. The man speaking was a tall man, beefy in build. His broad chin was dotted with the faint hairs of an attempted beard. His hair, copper, was parted in the middle, and curled around his ears. His deep forest green eyes, the same eyes she used to gaze into for hours, had not changed, but great amusement reflected back.

She didn’t even try to hide her distaste. She growled, “Dagur B. Zerker. For what God forbidden reason are you here? To steal my food?”

He laughed. “No, not quite, you see. Your uncle invited me. He hoped that we would get back together.”

The princess blinked once and then shrieked across the ballroom. “UNCLE!!!”

Most attendees jumped at the shout and scrambled to move out of the war zone.

The ruler had just gotten away from her, when she stomped back up to him and stuck her finger in his face. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!”

Stoick rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping you would reconsider courting him again.”

She shook her head. “I’m surprised at you uncle. I loved him, but he got Mala, one of my ladies in waiting, pregnant, and you think that’s a reason for another chance?”

Dagur snorted behind her. “She had a miscarriage, though.”

Astrid riled up in anger, before turning around and decking him in the mouth. “You ass!”

Startled gasps went up in the crowd as the gentry began whispering and staring.

Stoick grabbed his niece. “Enough! Behave yourself, woman!”

“He started it! I’ll kill him! That son of a bitch!”

Dagur, after he had been punched, made the wise decision to run out the room.

“Now,” Stoick stated, “I need to do damage control. Can you handle socializing for a little while without starting another fight?”

Astrid looked away in shame, but nodded solemnly.

“Good, I’ll be back in a bit.”

The crowd parted like the red sea, and Astrid was left alone. And for once in her spoiled life, she felt like she had nothing. She always had the best, the newest, the most expensive. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more and more. But in this moment, she realized it would never be enough. There was no happiness in material goods or false words.

Then, from across the room, she spotted Gobber, the Toymaker. One of the best in the world. Every year, he took a request from Astrid for her ideal custom present. No other like it was to be made.

This was Astrid’s favorite part of her birthday every year. Not just because the present was quality and made exactly they way she wanted, but because Gobber took pride in his work, and he made sure Astrid knew it. One year, the girl asked for a racing car, one that she could drive inside the palace. Gobber came multiple times in the process of building to have Astrid sit in a chair and pretend she was the one driving. Gobber was the father she never had. She never confessed to anyone, but she was always excited to see the man.

The toymaker came to her and respectfully bowed. “Your highness, happiest of birthdays to you. Long live the Princess.”

“Gobber,” She smiled pleasantly.

“I won’t beat around the bush, my dear, what do you wish me to make? I know you have it all thought out. Just like every year.” He smiled, his lead tooth glimmering in the light.

Truth be told, Astrid had forgotten to think about her present. She’d been so preoccupied with worrying about a groom…she chuckled to herself, and without thinking, blurted her personal joke out loud.

“Make me a husband.”

The toymaker laughed, but then grew silent when he saw the Princess was not joking.

“A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, Gobber, I am.”

“…Anything particular you want me to consider? Looks?”

“Just make him perfect.”

She was the Princess, and she always got what she wanted. This was no exception. Gobber took a shaky breath, “I’ll do my best, my lady…but--…”

“Your best is all I ask,” She affirmed. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

The toymaker shrugged. “Okay. I guess I have no choice.”

“Take your time on this, I am not in a hurry to get married, but lawfully I must wed by the end of the year.”

“Three days, my lady. As tradition, you will have your gift in three days.”

“Lovely. I will see you in three days then.”

“Yes, Princess Astrid.” The toymaker bowed low and exited the ballroom. The rest of the room could only look in shock and horror at what had just happened.

“I do believe this solves everything.” The Princess smirked.

Out of nowhere, the two twin servants burst into delighted laughter. They approached from both sides. “That was priceless!”

“What a joke!”

“Did you see how everyone reacted?”

“Excellent!”

Astrid glanced between the two. “I’m serious, you know.” She raised an eyebrow.

The laughter waned. “Wait, really? You’re going to marry…a toy?”

“Most likely. But I haven’t any stretch of the imagination what he’s planning on doing. If it turns out much different then I expect, then I will make the toy another servant…or maybe a moving target, if I’m so inclined.”

The siblings shared a worried look. It was a well-known fact that the Princess morbidly stunk at human interaction, but to go as far as to marry a machine? That was an act of desperation. “If you say so.” Ruff shrugged.

#fanfiction #boy toy #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccstrid #Astrid Hofferson #pinocchio #AU

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