#Couple found guilty of shaking baby daughter to death

[peachyteez]

little wanderer ≫ DAY FOUR, BABY STEPS.

this fellow stray cat hybrid has been hanging around jiyu’s condo for as long as he could remember, although jiyu may not have noticed him. the cold winter breeze and jiyu’s open bedroom window prompts him to sneak into her bedroom one night. it was just suppose to be one night, but the gods must’ve been smiling upon him.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @kpopnightingale, @rosesarethebest, @stillcantfindaproperusername, @bonbonhwa, @its-sarah-stark, @sanismybb, @frankenstein852, @peachseok, @woopetals, @exhofayemars, @pvrkacciosan

✧ notes: y’all, i’m so sorry san’s chapters took basically two months—

✧ WARNING: brief mention of death

back。|  next。

waking up in one of the guest bedrooms, jiyu wearily blinked a couple times before remembering the events from the night before. letting out a small sigh, she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. i hope i didn’t scare him away for good this time.

the various voices and clanks of pans she could hear downstairs made her curious. she glanced at the clock above the bedroom door. 7:34 AM. she tilted her head in confusion. the five boys usually lugged themselves out of bed by 8 earliest, so what’s got them up and running so early?

slipping out of bed and leaving the room, she peered over the railing to see the five boys trying to cook what she assumed was breakfast. she saw some of them (mingi and yunho) struggling with trying to work the induction stove, while some of them (yeosang and hongjoong) were somewhat messily cracking eggs and whisking them. she swore seonghwa had slumped a little just watching them. 

but what surprised her the most was the cat hybrid that had slid over to help yeosang and hongjoong. 

“oh, good morning!” yunho happily greeted her with a wave. at his call, they all followed the puppy’s gaze to see jiyu staring at them from the second floor. “did you sleep well?”

jiyu nodded, not knowing what to process first—the fact that the kitchen might have a chance of burning down, or the fact that san was still there. she slowly descended down the stairs. 

sensing jiyu’s confusion, seonghwa sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “we all felt bad after your little...talk yesterday,” he admitted, the others nodding along with him. like hongjoong had said the previous night, they all shared blame for her outburst since they all once shared similar thoughts with san. “and it was actually san’s idea to make breakfast...”

jiyu’s eyes widened even more before she moved her gaze from seonghwa to san, who had awkwardly hid behind yeosang. after jiyu left the room, san felt pretty guilty, which was a first for him when it came to humans. it wasn’t until the others had briefed him on their own stories with her did he start to realize that she had been telling the truth. she was right; if she had only taken care of them out of obligation for her career, she would’ve sent them to shelters after they had recovered. but no, she took them under her wing and cared for them as if they were her own children and friends. 

“...so considering how you’re doing all this,” she gestured to the eggs, and other various breakfast ingredients lying around the counter, “is this your way of accepting my offer of staying?” she turned to san, or rather yeosang. 

san shyly side-stepped away from yeosang. he couldn’t meet her eyes as he fiddled with his fingers. after a moment of silence, he nodded. “...if that offer still stands. i know i haven’t been the nicest, but after last night, i don’t think you’re such a bad person—”

“so you thought i was a bad person all throughout the time we’ve known each other?” jiyu teasingly pressed, keeping up an offended facade. 

san’s head instantly snapped up at the realization of his words. flustered, he waved his hands in front of him defensively. “wait—no, that’s not what i meant—”

jiyu burst out into laughter and leaned onto the counter. she never would’ve thought that san would have a change of heart with the way she acted last night, yet the universe is always full of surprises for her. “don’t worry, i was just messing with you,” she explained through her laughs before calming down. “and i’m sorry if i crossed a line last night. it’s just...i’ve had a lot on my mind recently and my emotions seemed to have spilled over. i know that sounds like an excuse but for me, it’s the truth.”

although some of the hybrids in the room had no idea what was bothering her so much, they had to agree with her. ever since she went out with sunwoo the day before, she seemed lost in her thoughts more often or just zoning out.

“it’s alright, really,” san reassured. “i was accusing you of ulterior motives, too so...i think you had a right to at least be angry.”

walking up to the cat hybrid, she softly smiled and held her hand out to him. “so are we good now?” 

san slowly clutched her tiny hands in his and gave it a small, yet firm shake. like proud parents, seonghwa and hongjoong looked at the interaction with proud smiles on their faces. as a matter of fact, they all did. they didn’t realize their small talk from last night would actually help san. 

taking a good look at the state of the kitchen, jiyu found it amusing how they were all trying to avoid her look, knowing they were guilty of the mess. “now then...do you all need some help?” she asked, stifling her chuckles at how they eagerly nodded at her offer. 

breakfast was more lively than it had been the last few days. rather than hiding in his own corner, she could see san communicating with the everyone else, herself included. the others were asking questions and just trying to nudge san to feel more relaxed around them. jiyu didn’t understand how he had a change of heart just over one night, but she was glad to see him progress.

but a question nagged at her from the back of her mind. just who was after san that they beat him to a pulp so badly? who was san and where was he from before becoming a stray? jiyu wanted to ask him so bad to see if she could offer him anymore help, but would it come off as being nosy? would san just retreat back into his little shell?

at that moment, it was like san read her mind. “i think...you all deserve an explanation...considering how i put you all at risk last night,” she nervously said, fiddling with his tail. 

“only if you’re okay with it,” seonghwa reassured from next to him. 

san took a moment to gather his thoughts and words. “i actually came from owners that were...well-off, you could put it. if i remember correctly, they adopted my parents first, then i was born a few years after. unfortunately, they died when i was seven due to what they told me was an accident.”

jiyu felt her heart break for san. he looked so somber at the mention of his parents that she almost told him he didn’t have to force himself. but san continued to talk. 

“after my parents died, the family was so nice to me. they basically treated me like i was their own son. they had a daughter around my age, too...so i even had a friend. i thought i had everything, i thought life was great...” he paused again, pursing his lips as he reminisced his past. “but then one wrong move made me a monster in their eyes.” his ears slumped on his head as his whole figure seemed to shrink. his head was bent down, unable to make eye contact with anyone out of fear that they would reject him like his old family did. 

“you don’t have to tell us what you did if it makes you uncomfortable, san,” hongjoong noted the cat’s tensed state, almost as if he was forcing himself to say what he had to say. 

san nodded, an action so small and light that you could’ve missed if you weren’t paying attention. jiyu switched to the seat next to him and gently pat his back in a comforting motion. “hey, it’s okay, san. let me tell you, if you’re ever comfortable enough to tell us what you did, i swear on my life that our views about you would never change. all of us here...i’m pretty sure i can speak for all of us when i say we’ve made some horrible mistakes in the past, too.”

san lifted his head up in the slightest and saw them all nod at jiyu’s words. looking over to jiyu, he found her softly smiling at him. “i’m not exactly sure what convinced you to stay with us, but i’ll be sure to help you out in any way i can. and you can take your time with us. take baby steps into trusting us, just remember that we’re here every step of the way. and if and when the time comes that you can tell is what happened, we’ll listen with open ears and hearts. okay?”

san took her words to heart. he felt the warmth of her words, and how she genuinely meant what she said. seeing the others’ reassuring faces made things a lot better, too. 

“they told me their story,” san quietly mumbled. jiyu tilted her head in confusion. “how you helped them. i guess that’s what kind of made me take the leap, too.” he confessed. 

jiyu stared at the others with wide eyes. she was surprised they even vouched for her. hongjoong playfully snorted before ruffling her hair. “why are you looking at us like that? all we told him was the truth.”

yunho enthusiastically nodded. “yeah! you saved mingi and i from our old owners and the cold.” mingi nodded with a grin, his bunny ears perking up and bouncing along with his nods. 

“and you saved me from getting put down,” seonghwa chimed in.

“and you helped me open up and trust again,” yeosang languidly added. it was rare for jiyu to hear yeosang say something as sappy as that since their dynamics was usually a lot of teasing (from yeosang), but whenever he did say something warm, it held all the more weight and impact. 

jiyu’s bottom lip started to slightly quiver as she felt herself become overwhelmed with emotions—good ones this time. “you guys are gonna make me cry and it’s only 8 in the morning!”

san snickered. “they weren’t kidding when they said you get emotional a lot, too.”

“they what—!”

“we’re sorry, we didn’t mean it!” mingi apologized while laughing before running away to the living room couch. 

“san, that was supposed to be a secret!” yunho playfully whispered before getting a light flick on the forehead by jiyu. 

“alright, you all get one flick each, come here!” she mischievously smiled before going after each and every one of them. san just watched with amusement at the scene. ‘she really is like a kid on the inside.’ he mused to himself while mingi’s screams echoed around.

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san #choi san imagines #san imagines #ateez san #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez #ateez au

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Twenty 

Ron had side alonged tons of times with both his Dad, Mum, Bill, and Charlie. Sure the first time he got sick all over his fathers shoes, but by the second time he was just violently dizzy. Now it’s like nothing, uncomfortable in the moment, but not long lasting. So why did he feel so sick all of the sudden? 

A pit of dread was building in his stomach. He physically keeled over, clutching at his knees and heaving a little onto the grass, hoping to hack something up. 

A hand found his back and rubbed it for a moment, the touch startled him until he met Bill’s blue eyes. “What’s wrong Ronnie? You haven’t had that sort of reaction to apparition in years.” His oldest brother pointed out. 

Ron ignores his words, not able to find a viable excuse at the moment. Harry however, seems to catch on from his place on Bill’s left. 

“I don’t think it’s because of the apparition.” The chosen one frowned at his best friend's brother. 

Bill gulped, suddenly feeling a little guilty for not realizing sooner, but supplied a soft nod. 

“Ron if you don’t think you can do this I’d understand. No ones gonna hold it against you.” His brother whispered, bending down to meet his hunched over form. 

Soon, the ginger recovers as he shakes his head viciously and stands tall. “I have to do this. Not even just for myself but you know...” the words ‘for her’ are unspoken. 

“Okay, let’s all just take a minute.” Bill suggests noticing Harry’s pale face. 

They all stand for a little bit. Bill’s eyes seemingly searching for any threats, Harry toeing some leaves, and Ron closing his eyes to focus his breathing. 

“I’ve never been here before.” Harry comments quietly, causing Ron to open his blue eyes and meet his green ones. “I mean...” he starts. 

“Neither have I.” His friends soon clarifies, “it’s never been me who came out, always Dad, Bill, Lupin.” He lists, “feels wrong.” 

The dark haired boy nods slowly, “yeah it does.” He agrees, scratching his head awkwardly. 

Bill felt like an intruder on a private moment between the pair, but didn’t have anywhere else to go. Instead, he stood silently, not wanting to rush them. 

“I reckon we can’t stand out here forever.” Ron breaks tensely after another minute of staring at the brick house. 

“Come on.” Bill led them down the path first. 

When the trio reached the door, it was the oldest Weasley who had the courage to finally knock. 

After a small scuffle heard behind the door, Hugo Granger threw it open with. His face went from that of confusion to a beaming smile. 

It made Ron’s stomach clench. 

“Bill! What a pleasure! Oh Harry and Ron, nice to see you!” He says happily. 

Ron had met Mister Granger on a few occasions at Kings Cross and in Diagon Alley. He was always kind to Ron and his family, more than happy to entertain his father on all things Muggles.

“Is my little girl here? Jean and I told her to stay put.” He frowned a little. 

Ron really felt ill now. 

“We’re really sorry to disturb you,” Bill began cryptically, “may we come inside?” 

Hugo eyed him skeptically, it wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable with Bill in his home, but this visit was puzzling. 

“Of course.” He opened the door to them, “Jean!” He called out as they stepped in. 

“Who was it at the door?” The woman’s voice came as she walked into the foyer, smiling at the sight of the boys. “Oh! This is so unexpected. It’s lovely to see you all! Come in, come in.” Jean ushered them over to the sitting room. 

“Wait here while I get some tea, I have some made.” She tells, scurrying to the kitchen, causing Bill’s protest to die on his lips. 

Soon his older brother and Hermione’s father fell into small talk. Harry supplying a few nods here and there in acknowledgement. 

Ron however, was too busy surveying the house. 

Everything was clean and white. The dark wood floors seemed freshly polished and the pillows looked recently fluffed. On the mantle were photos of Hermione. Unmoving, but just as sentimental. 

Ones of her swaddled in a towel, her as a small baby, her in France with bushy brown hair, and many more. The one that caught his eye was her at King’s Cross from her first year, smiling widely as she sat on her new trunk. 

He had to look away. The memories of happier times becoming too painful as of late. The whole thought of her now miserable made it too much. 

Missus Granger soon returned with a tray of tea and biscuits, but no one made a move to grab anything. Not even Ron, which shocked Harry and Bill alike. 

He noticed now Hermione’s mother nervously wringing her hands together. “This is about Hermione isn’t it? I knew she’d take my mother’s death badly, but I didn’t think it would warrant a home visit. I’d assume she’d dive into her work. It’s not exactly a healthy alternative but she’s-“ the woman ranted. 

“She doesn’t know.” Ron interrupted huskily before he could help himself. 

“She doesn’t?” Hugo asked, shocked, “well we sent an owl. The white one, I think she’s yours Harry.” He pointed out. 

The chosen one nodded slowly, “we got the owl but Hermione she,” he cleared his throat, “she never saw your letter.” 

The couple eyed each other for a moment before Hugo spoke, “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” 

Bill glanced at his brother and his best friend, both were averting their eyes from the adults in front of them. 

“Hermione, she’s gone.” He says sadly, not even having a moment to elaborate before the Granger’s jumped in. 

“Oh Hugo! I knew this would happen! We told her not to come home.” She said painfully clutching her husband's hand. 

He grabbed it and gave it a squeeze before turning back to Bill, “do you know where she is? How long ago did she leave?” He asked quickly. 

Bill shook his head again, surprised to find tears stinging the backs of his eyes. Ron’s head soon found its place between his hands as Harry plucked his hoodie's zipper. 

“She didn’t leave,” he gulped, “she was taken.” The eldest Weasley said shakily. 

“Taken!” Jean exclaimed aghast. 

“I don’t understand.” Hugo said, voice quivering as silent tears began to stream his wife’s face. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have sent her off to that school. I knew it.” Her mother cried. 

This seemed to peeve Ron off, Harry too. 

“It’s not because of Hogwarts, it's because of me.” Harry informed quickly and sadly. 

“You?” Jean spat rather angrily. 

“Not Harry, me.” Ron corrected, sure of it. 

“You?” Her voice had leveled out to confusion rather than anger. 

As Ron nodded, Harry shook his head. 

“Well what is it? What’s happened?” Hugo asked anxiously, trying to keep his calm whilst his wife fell into his arms. 

Harry took a staggering breath, “my godfather, he,” he sighed sadly, “last year he was killed.” 

“Killed?” Jean squeaked nervously, worried for Hermione’s fate. 

“Yeah, you see-” The chosen one started. 

“Harry, third year, start there. Pettigrew.” Ron moaned the name painfully. He knew Hermione had stopped being honest with her parents around then. After being petrified. 

“Right...”

And so it began. The Granger’s barely had time to shed tears over Hermione, as they’d been too focused on the stories being told. Those of that night in the Shrieking Shack, of Barty Crouch Junior, Cedric Diggory, and Dolores Umbridge. Even the events of the Department of Mysteries (Missus Granger let out a terrible cry at learning Hermione had been cursed) and presently their Christmas holiday. 

“It was just over a week ago when it all happened.” Harry started nervously, palms running roughly over his denim clad legs. 

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” he began before Hugo interrupted. 

“The woman at the Ministry? The one who killed your godfather?” He asked voice so soft it made Harry’s heart break. Here these people were not knowing if their daughter was alright, yet felt for him after losing Sirius. 

Harry nodded, “yeah, her, well she arrived at the Burrow with Fenrir Greyback.” 

“The man who hurt you Bill.” Jean said to herself, mentally keeping tabs of all the players     

A little awkwardly, the oldest of the three nodded. 

“She came. Said some nasty things then went to leave. I-“ he began shamefully, “I followed her.”

“So did Hermione. So did I.” Ron was quick to defend. 

“You only followed because I ran in first. If I hadn’t-“ he began frustrated, hot angry tears forming in his eyes. 

“If there’s one thing I know about my daughter, it’s that she would do anything to protect you two boys. Please don’t blame yourself Harry.” Jean said with wet eyes, placing a soft hand on Harry’s clenched fist. 

“If I just-“ he started again. 

“If you had known this would happen to Hermione would you still have ran after her?” The woman asked, voice riddled with sadness. 

“No, of course not!” He cried out indignantly. 

“Exactly.” She soothed, retracting her hand to find her husband again, “continue.” Jean requested. 

Though painful, Ron knew this was his part to tell, “Bellatrix, she said she wanted to kill me.” He decided to leave out the part of Hermione in the witch's clutches, wanting to spare some pain. 

“Why?” Hugo gasped. 

Bill noticed Ron begin to tremble and he could at least fill this part in. “Us Weasley’s were dubbed as ‘blood-traitors’, purebloods who support Muggles and Muggle borns alike. We’re also not few and far between. To someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, if she kills one of us there’s still over half a dozen more.” 

Hesitantly, Hugo nodded in acknowledgment and understanding, but not agreement. 

“She didn’t want to kill Hermione.” Ron’s voice broke suddenly hoarse, “or Harry.” 

“But isn’t him, uh, You-Know-Who, isn’t he after you Harry?” Jean questioned. 

“Yeah, he is, it’s peculiar they didn’t try it with me.” 

“And Hermione? Why her?” 

Again, Ron and Harry squirmed uncomfortably, “your daughter is one of the brightest witches Hogwarts has ever seen. You-Know-Who, well, we reckon he needed her brilliant mind. That she may know something that could hurt him.” Bill advised regretfully. 

For now, questions from the Granger’s halted, it all was too much to take in. 

“So Hermione, she-she saved herself for me,” Ron choked, “she hid me to keep me safe and gave herself up so they wouldn’t kill me and they took her. And I couldn’t do anything. Not a thing.” Ron broke down becoming hysterical. 

Tears filled the room. Missus Granger’s sobs rivaled Ron’s as Mister Granger held her, silent tears of his own streaming his reddened cheeks. Harry had slumped over, breathing heavily, while Bill placed a soft hand on his shoulder. 

Ron stood suddenly, halting all the tears for a moment, “Loo. I need the loo.” He said, sounding almost panicked. 

“Ron, maybe you should just-“ Bill began to suggest. 

“Upstairs, second door on your right.” Hugo said with a groggy voice. 

The ginger nodded and took off, not noticing Jean throw her husband a funny look at the instructions. Instead, he just heard Bill’s soft voice floating through the room as he told the Granger’s of the measures the order had been taking. 

Ron climbed the steps two at time before being met by a long hallway with identical white doors. Spotting the second door to his right, he frantically pushed it open, ready to collapse atop the toilet lid. 

But instead he was met by a different sight. 

Blue walls. A large bookshelf tucked in the corner. Parchment stacked neatly atop a desk. Next to it was a Muggle chessboard. Pictures stuffed and tacked onto a board. And the smell. 

Roses. Lemon. Ink. 

The same thing he smelt in the Amortentia earlier in the year. 

It was all so Hermione. It was consuming his senses too much, too fast. And without even realizing what he was doing, he doubled onto her bed, silently crying. 

“I thought you might need this more than the loo.” A voice sounded from the door. 

Immediately Ron jumped to his feet, feeling like he'd done something wrong. 

“Relax Ron, I sent you here for a reason.” Mister Granger eased, moving to sit in the chair at Hermione’s desk, motioning for the boy to sit back down. 

“I’m so sorry Mister Granger, this is all my fault,” he started shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe that Ron.” He said strongly. 

The ginger shook his head fiercely, “you should. You don’t understand how much I’ve hurt her,” too many things come to mind. Lavender. The Yule Ball. Crookshanks. Scabbers. Trolls. “I could’ve done better.” He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his wrists. 

“You think I don’t blame myself for this too?” He asked a little harshly, “I get it,” he began softer, “you loved my daughter didn’t you?” He asks knowingly. 

“No.” Ron’s voice was so strong, it even startled him. “I love her.” He clarified, “Don’t talk about her like she’s gone. Like she’ll never know.” 

Hugo nodded slowly, but said nothing for a few minutes, letting Ron take in Hermione’s room with blurry eyes instead. 

“I want to understand Ron.” His voice broke the air, “I wish my daughter hadn’t lied to me. Jean and I suspected something but didn’t push it. But I need to know if there’s even something that can help. Please Ron.” He begged. 

Ron, Harry, and Bill had skimmed the surface of the chaos that has been their last six years at Hogwarts. And Ron knew more details on Hermione specifically then the other two, Mister Granger sensed as much. 

And Ron sensed the desperation in his eyes, the same look he’s been wearing for weeks. Even before Hermione was gone. When his biggest problem was chucking Lavender Brown cause he had missed her so much. 

Thoughtfully, his blue eyes found the untouched chess set. He pushed down the warmth in his chest at the thought of Hermione practicing just so she could match him. He didn’t have time to harp on it. 

“Mister Granger, have you ever played chess?” He asked, a brilliant idea forming in his head.

...

Hugo Granger pondered over the chess board carefully, studying the pieces as he placed them on the respective squares. 

“So my daughter is your queen?” He asked as Ron used tape to secure the parchment onto the white queen. 

Ron momentarily stopped what he was doing and opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air, “Er, what? I don’t know.” He fumbled. 

“The chess piece Ron, Hermione she’s the queen, is she not?” He asked, a little amused. 

“Oh,” he said, relieved , then suddenly realized he didn’t answer the question, “oh yeah, well I reckon it fits.” He says a little nervously. 

Ron was playing white and Mister Granger was black. 

You-Know-Who and Harry were the kings respectively. Hermione was the queen, while Bellatrix Lestrange was on her side. Ron made himself the knight, the protector, he felt a bit awkward about it, but he figured it would be worse if he had just written himself off. Then Hermione’s dad was sure to think he’s useless. In turn, Greyback was the knight, he debated over Malfoy, but settled on making him bishop. 

He also debated putting Draco’s name down as well, but settled for just the last name representing him and his father. Draco wasn’t guilty of anything but being a poncy pureblood prat. Well for now. 

Dumbledore was the other bishop, both ready to take over if their kings fell. The rook’s were just labeled ‘Death Eaters’ and ‘The Order’, being both were to represent the Kingdoms walls per say. 

As for the pawns it included those who either lost their lives or were simple puppets. Sirius, Cedric, Quirinius Quirrell, Peter Pettigrew, Mad Eye, even Ginny due to second year. 

Anyone else important would just have to be mentioned along the way. 

“And this woman,” Hugo began lifting up his black queen, “she’s the one who took Hermione?” 

Ron simply gulped and supplied a weak nod. Like the younger man, talks of Hermione’s captor seemed to evoke pure sadness from Hugo Granger. 

Suddenly, guilt bubbled within Ron yet again, “we don’t have to do this.” He vaguely gestured to the chess board. 

“I want to,” he insisted, “but if it’s too much for you...”

The ginger repressed the urge to groan. This man really should not be giving him the benefit of the doubt. Not after all he’s done to his daughter. Even before this. 

“Look there’s something you should know.” Ron’s eyes quickly averted her fathers. 

Hugo’s eyes pierced his, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Before Hermione,” he choked a little, “before she was taken, her and I, we weren’t speaking.” He admitted in a whisper, ashamed. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Well, I think,” he didn’t know how to phrase it, he didn’t want to, “I know I hurt her. My sister says I broke her heart.” He trailed quietly. 

And then for the first time since he arrived here, Mister Granger’s face was painted with red hot fury. Fists clenched so hard they turned white. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He told the man quickly. 

“Did my Hermione know that? That you’re sorry?” Hugo all but grunted. 

“No, I never got the chance to tell her.” It took almost everything out of Weasley not to cry. 

A few moments passed, but to Ron it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, Mister Granger seemed to lessen his rage and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t blame you Ron.” He began honestly, “I don’t blame you that those people took Hermione. I may not have known everything about my daughter, but I do know her and I know how much she cares about you.” Hermione’s father pauses, “and I know you know as much too, so I just want to ask you why?” 

And Ron knew what the ‘why?’ was for. Why would he hurt her knowing how much she cared. And for that, he doesn’t really have an answer, not a good one anyway. Nothing he can even justify to himself. 

The only thing that resonates is something he told Harry before all this, before Hermione was gone. 

“How can you love someone so much and hurt them so bad?” 

And he doesn’t know. Now more than ever. His mind is just constantly consumed with guilt, sadness, and anger. All directed at him or occasionally, Bellatrix and the rest of You-Know-Who’s followers. 

“I can’t answer that.” Ron tells him, “there’s no reason that could make it right. If I had known what would-“ a bile rose in his throat. 

“I know that Ron.” The man says softly, “I know that she knew too.” 

“Knows.” He blurted out before he could help it. 

Awkwardly, Hugo clears his throat, choosing not to acknowledge the outburst, “of course she knows.” He subtly corrects, “and I want to hear about what happened this year, but maybe we should start from the beginning?” He suggested pointing weakly to the board. 

Nodding slowly, Ron cleared his throat and thought for a moment before picking up the piece representing Harry. 

“I reckon a lot of this starts around Halloween first year. Do you know anything about Mountain Trolls...”

#ron x hermione #ron weasley #ron and hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #hermione granger #romione fanfic #romione #hp fanfic #hp #sixth year

[cherryblossomflowers]

An Old Life Meets A New (Pt8)

Pairing: Jensen x Daughter, Danneel x Stepdaughter

Warnings: Slight Cussing, Angst, Fluff, Death Mentioned, Car Accident Mentioned, Anxiety/Depression, Arguing, Panic Attacks, Yelling, Fighting

Summary: After the recent death of her mother, Harper must adjust to her new life in the Ackles home, this includes a new stepmother, half-siblings, and reconnecting with her father.

A/N: Time for the Harper VS Danneel chapter! No hate on Danneel or Jensen please. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

*ASK OPEN*

**COMMENT IF YOU'D LIKE TO BE IN MY TAGLIST**

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

Chapter 8

Jensen, Harper, and Danneel were wrapping up their purchases from JCPenney. This included a new bedding set, 7 paintings, strings of star lights, 4 music posters, curtains, giant blue letters of her initials, 4 regular pillows, a body pillow, and 3 decorative pillows. Needless to say, Harper got a bit out of her comfort zone as the shopping progressed.

Jensen grabbed most of the bags, Harper grabbing a couple to help him, and they walked out of the store. Jensen and Harper were laughing and walking along while Danneel stood behind them annoyed.

They got to the entrance, and Jensen turned around, "Why don't you two go into a store while I take these to the truck?"

Harper froze and turned to Danneel, who looked just as shocked as she did.

She cleared her throat and turned back to Jensen, "Uh, it's okay, Dad. I can help with these."

Jensen shook his head, "No, no. Go on, find a store you like and looked around. I'll be back soon."

Danneel walked up to Jensen, "Why don't I take everything to the truck and you both find a store?"

Jensen took the bags from Harper, "It's okay, Dee. I got this. Just text me which store you end up in," he said as he walked out the entrance.

Danneel turned to Harper, who had her head down and twisting her foot on the ground. Harper wasn't happy about this and neither was Danneel. The two clearly had nothing in common, and Jensen forcing them to hang out wasn't helping.

Danneel sighed and walked up to Harper, "So, um. Any place you want to go?"

Refusing to speak, Harper shook her head.

Danneel rolled her eyes, "Do you need shoes? Clothes? Earrings?"

Harper looked up, "Earrings? I don't even have my ears pierced."

"Why not?" asked Danneel, confused.

Harper's eyes filled with tears, "My mom was going to take me before school starts back up."

Danneel's face fell. Sympathy hitting her right in the chest. She thought back to when she got her ears pierced with her mother when she was a teenager. It was a mother/daughter tradition in her eyes.

A light bulb went off in her head.

She placed a hand on Harper's shoulder, forcing her to look up, "I know I'm not her, but I can take you."

Harper shrugged, "I don't know."

Danneel grabbed her hand, "Come on, it'll be fun. Then you can pick out some earrings you like." She pulled Harper along as they walked around to find Icing.

Once they walked in the store, Harper's anxiety hit. She had been scared for years to get her ears pierced. She didn't know what the pain would be like, what was used, nothing.

Danneel walked up to the woman at the cash register, "Hello. My daugh-" Danneel stopped herself and cleared her throat, "Sorry. My stepdaughter would like to get her ears pierced."

The woman clapped and jumped, "Oh yay! Okay let me get everything set up," and she walked away.

Harper pulled away from Danneel's hand, "Danneel I don't know about this. Maybe we should wait."

Danneel side hugged her, "Don't worry, it's not that bad. I did this with my mother years ago. It's really easy and quick."

A few minutes later, the woman returned with a mask and black gloves on, "Come to the back of the counter and we can get started."

Harper was shaking at this point, "Danneel, let's just go and look at shoes or something. Please."

Danneel shook her head, "We'll do this, then go look at shoes okay? Now come on."

She grabbed Harper's wrist and pulled her to the back counter. Harper pulled at her wrist to get away, but Danneel's grip was too tight.

At the back counter, there were two women standing there now. Both with a black mask and black gloves on. Harper got up in the stool and sat back. She looked down to her right at the piercing guns. She felt all the blood in her face drain as her chest tightened.

She tried one last time, "Danneel, I'm begging you. Please, can we go do something else?"

Danneel was looking at all the different earrings, "Oh, look, sweetheart. They have little palm tree ones!"

Harper dug her nails into her arms, trying to calm down, but nothing could stop the panic she was feeling. Both women were wiping her ears to clean them. One of them used a marker and put an X on her right earlobe. Then she passed the marker to the other woman, who marked her left earlobe with an X.

Danneel looked up at Harper and smiled. She pulled out her phone and hit record on the camera, "Harper's first piercing!" she exclaimed.

The women picked up the two guns and placed them on Harper's ears. Tears instantly filled Harper's eyes. At the same time, both women pulled back the plunger knob of the gun.

One placed a hand on her shoulder, "Ready?"

Harper couldn't move or speak. She was frozen in terror.

Then both women counted down, "3...2...1..." and pulled the trigger.                                             _____________

Jensen walked back into the mall wiping his hands together, "Alright, now where are my girls at?" He pulled out his phone and saw no message from Danneel, "Strange. I thought they would've found a store by now."

He put his phone back in his pocket and looked around, "Well, they couldn't have gone far. I guess I'll just-"

Jensen was interrupted by a bloody curdling scream that blasted through the entire mall. He jumped at the sound and his heart was pounding. Heads turned throughout the mall towards a jewelry store down the way.

For some reason, he just knew that scream. "Harper?!" he yelled. He ran towards the sound of the scream, looking for either Danneel or Harper.

He ran past Icing but backtracked when he saw Danneel at the cash register with a small bag in her hands. He walked inside towards her.

Jensen was panting, "Danneel, what's going on? Where's Harper?"

Danneel turned around and smiled, "Hi, honey," she reached in the bag, "Look at these cute earrings. They're little palm-"

"Danneel," he said interrupting her, "Where is Harper?"

"She back there," said Danneel, pointing at the back of the counter. She leaned in to kiss her husband, but he backed away.

Jensen walked past Danneel to the back of the counter. What he saw broke his heart.

Harper was sitting in a chair, her knees up to her chest, her hands coverings her ears, and her elbows on her knees. She was sobbing, breathing rapidly, and shaking.

Jensen bent down and put a hand on her knee, "Harper, baby. Look at me."

Harper aggressively shook her head. Her breathing was tight, her sobbing getting louder, and tears pouring down her face.

Jensen stood up as Danneel walked up, "What happened?"

Danneel shrugged, "She wanted her ears pierced. So I brought her to get them done."

Harper jumped out of the chair and pointed a finger in Danneel's face, "I never said I wanted to get my ears pierced! I said my mom was going to take me before school, and then you suddenly volunteered to be my mom. Well news flash, you are not my mom! You are not my stepmother! You are nothing to me!"

There was a tense silence between the three. Danneel stood in shock, Jensen as well, but Harper did not move from her stance.

Suddenly realizing what she said, her face fell. Her hand dropped to her side and her head hung down, looking at the floor.

She turned over her left shoulder and mumbled, "Can we go home?"

Jensen took a breath and cleared his throat, "You sure you're done-"

"I said...I want to go home," Harper said just above a whisper.

She kept her head down and walked out of the store. Jensen and Danneel exchanged a scared look before Jensen's turned into anger. He walked out of the store and after his daughter.

Danneel stood there for a moment, tears in her own eyes, "What have I done?"

She left the store and walked after Jensen and Harper. Danneel saw them up ahead almost at the entrance, Jensen's hand on her shoulder.

Danneel kept walking, her head looking down. She felt so guilty in that moment. A deep, empty pit in her chest and tears in her eyes. This little girl lost her mother a little over a week ago, and she just ruined any chance of having a relationship with her.

Danneel got outside and saw Jensen helping Harper into the passenger seat, which meant Danneel was to be sitting in the backseat. She walked up to the truck as Jensen shut the passenger door.

He walked past her to the driver's side and climbed inside.

Danneel walked up to the backseat door, opened it, and climbed inside. She shut the door behind her and made eyes contact with Jensen in the rear view mirror.

Harper was crying in the front seat, her hands covering her ears once again. Jensen looked over at Harper with tears in his own eyes. He laid a hand on her knee, but Harper jerked away, clearly not wanting to be touched.

Danneel sat back in her seat and wiped the tears from her face. This was not her intent at all. She just wanted to try and be a mother to Harper. But she messed it all up. And who knows if it can be fixed now.

-------------------------------

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​ @chessurkait​ @adorable-minibot​ @desiredposion​ @idksupernatural​ @thevelvetseries​ @spnfamily-j2​ @let-me-luve-you @obsessedwithfandomsx

#spn #spn rpf #Supernatural RPF #supernatural #spn oc #oc #jensen #jensen ackles #jensen x daughter #jensen ackles x daughter #jensen and danneel #danneel harris #danneel ackles #danneel x stepdaughter #jared and jensen #jared x niece #jared padalecki #jared and gen #jared #jj ackles #zeppelin ackles #arrow ackles #danneel

[rosesvioletshardy]

life as we know it - b.h. chapter 8

a/n: i’m posting today because i needed some sort of mental break form everything happening. i was about to go to a blm protest yesterday in my city until i heard what was happening and before it escalated too far and people were running for safety. i’ve been signing petitions and donating as much as i could non-stop and it really got to me. really hope you guys like this chapter

black lives matter

masterlist

summary: when their two best friends die, it’s up to ben and y/n to take care of their goddaughter and face the challenges that come with it

# of words: 3,557

warnings: reader being a dick at one point, FLUFF, panic attack

not edited so i apologize for any mistakes

taglist: @myfatbottomedgirls, @evemarie05, @suckerfor-fanfics

--

(my gif below, please credit if using)

july

a couple of months have passed and  ben and y/n have managed to do everything their way and the way christian and lennon would’ve wanted them to. they had both seen therapists to truly get in touch with the situation and there was no more freaking out and ever since the fiasco about them “dating” and charlie being *their* daughter. sean on the other hand needed his plan to go quick before she understood her real feelings and how she truly felt and broke up with him. a lot of people didn’t believe that what they were saying was true and would rather believe a gossip site rather than the true source itself because they’d think it would be a good way to promote more self image and business. 

when it came out, sean was furious. she knew it would happen and tried to call him to explain the situation that they weren’t together and charlie wasn’t their daughter but he knew that. he wanted her to feel guilty  

flashback

“did you see the news?” he asked 

“yeah listen, ben already talked to his publicist about it and the daily mail is going to post another article about it’s not true, he’s not my boyfriend and charlie is our biological daughter.”

“he better. i swear to god he ruins everything.” he told her gritting his teeth, and grabbing her wrists and throwing them away 

“no he doesn’t.”

“yes he does, but i need to keep making sure he doesn’t touch you in any way possible okay? you’re mine only.”

“i’m yours only.” she told him tears creeping up in her eyes

flashback over

there were some ups and downs like recently charlie decided she needed to go number 2 while they were giving her a bath that turned into a doctor’s visit the next day

“she still has soap on her head.” she told ben 

“yeah i can see” he said as he moved the shower head and covered charlie’s eyes as she played with the rubber duck

before ben could cover her eyes, she saw charlie do her poop face

“she’s making her poop face” y/n voiced

“What?”

“her poop face! that’s the face she makes when she needs to go. she’s going to poop in the tub” she yelled picking charlie up to take her to the toilet

ben started to freak out as he moved out of the way to take the lock off of the toilet that was installed

“hurry up! she’s going to do it any minute!” “‘m trying! i don’t remember how i opened these!” ben panicked

“she’s going to poop on me. here let me try” she panicked giving charlie to ben

y/n then began to struggle like ben did and kept trying to pull the latch before doing the unthinkable and taking ben’s beanie and holding it under the baby

“no, no, no MY HAT! oh my god that’s my hat” 

“i’m so sorry. i’ll buy you a new one. i promise.” she giggled

“oh it’s funny. yeah, laugh it off. that’s real funny” ben said starting to laugh along

“wait what is that?”

“what?” 

“that lump on her stomach”

“‘t’s her belly button. she’s an outie.” ben told her

“No, that was not there yesterday when i changed her.” she told him

“okay. we’ll make a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. let’s just get her cleaned up and ready for bed.”

that was all on her mind throughout the night and before the appointment. she had taken charlie on her break so ben can have some alone time for a while seeing that he’s been busy and wants one day without hearing the wiggles music all day.

here she was, holding charlie and pacing back and forth talking to tyler about an event

“we can’t afford to be snobby. it’s our biggest event. just bring out all the most popular foods, you know? anything that’s sweet and could be counted as finger-food.” she told him before the doctor came in

“sorry to keep you waiting. my mother wouldn’t hang up.” the doctor said

“that’s fine. i know the feeling sometimes”

“so you are charlie’s new guardian, is that correct?” dr. smith asked looking at charlie’s chart

“yes that is correct.”

“i’m really sorry about what happened to her parents and your friends” he said as he gestured for her to sit charlie on the table

“thank you.”

“okay. now, how is she doing? is she sleeping okay? regular bowel movements”

“well not at first but now it’s very regular. but she has this protrusion on her stomach and i don’t know what it is. i don’t know anything about kids. lennon was the first one of my friends to have a baby and she was amazing with charlie. she would be the first person i would call about this. i-i mean, she was the first person i called about everything. and it hurts that i can’t call her and i’d really like to tell her “oh my god what the hell were you thinking? I mean you could’ve left me with your pearls or the YSL clutch. this is just a little too much and hard. i don’t even know what i’m doing even with the help.” oh god i’m ranting. i’m so sorry.” y/n said taking a deep breath

“it’s fine. a lot of parents do that, especially first time parents. so, charlie’s got an umbilical hernia. it’s nothing to be worried about, they mostly go away on their own, but we’ll keep watching it.” dr. smith told her taking out his prescription pad and began to write

“wait, you said it goes away on its own.”

“this is for you.” he finished writing down and giving it to her

she took the paper and began to read it out loud

“one bottle of pinot noir, one to two glasses as needed.”

“or white, same dosage though. look, you and whoever is with you are doing is pretty incredible. but don’t forget to give yourselves a break every now and then. Okay? So i’ll have the nurse set you up in a week? bye charlie, you’re going to be okay. it was nice to meet you.” dr. smith told her shaking her hand

“you too, and thank you.”

y/n left the building with charlie in her stroller and they began their journey back home. on the way, they ended up seeing sean but he wasn’t alone. at first she thought “maybe it’s just a co-worker of his out for lunch or maybe just an old friend.” but then she saw what she thought was the worst thing ever. he was cheating on her. she didn’t know what to feel other than betrayed and she hadn’t felt like this in a way since she found out about the death. wiping the lone tear away, she walked away and straight home and wondered how long it had been going on or if ben knew.

when she got home, she was met with what seemed like drumming. taking charlie out of her stroller and down for a nap, she walked into the family room to find ben sitting at a drum set and looking at music sheets. 

“what the fuck benjamin. what is this?!” y/n exclaimed

“well, as you can see, it is a drum set. they are usually used by drummers for band and are set up in the ba-” ben tried to explain in a sarcastic tone before getting cut off

“i know what a drum is. i mean what is it doing in the room? why do you even have it?” 

“this new role i got involves drumming and i said i could play so here we are now.” 

“but you can’t play.”

“exactly that’s why i’m practicing. why does it look like you were crying?” he asked curiously after seeing her puffy eyes

“um no reason. what is the role that you need to learn drumming so badly?” 

“okay. do you promise not to tell anyone?”

“yeah i promise”

“this is really private and it hasn’t been announced yet so do you really prom-” “yes, ben i fucking promise. Jesus”

“fine. geez. i’m going to be playing roger taylor in the queen biopic” ben told her really excited

this caused her to laugh and she couldn’t understand why. she didn’t mean to be rude it just sort of happened.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to laugh. i just couldn’t get the thought of you playing one of my childhood crushes. oh my. how long have you managed to keep this from me?” 

“can you please leave me alone now? i don’t have that much time to learn a shit ton of songs. and i went to the meeting about it a couple of  months ago, remember when i left in the middle of dinner? then i started lessons after i got the part and somehow managed to pull off one song so far.” ben told her fixing one of the cymbals

that’s why ben was constantly gone for a while and they had to ask charlie’s babysitter because she couldn’t take care of charlie and go to work at the same time

“now can i leave for practice? i can’t believe i’m telling you this, but we shoot the live aid scene soon and joe, rami, and gwilym are still trying to get to know one another?” ben asked

“yeah, sure.” she said before continuing

“why don’t you invite them over? i can make dinner for all of you.” 

“are you sure about that? wouldn’t it be too much?” 

“no, it’s completely fine. have you forgotten how many places i’ve catered? or how many people i serve for a day when i work? it’s practically my specialty.” 

“fine. but you better not tell anything embarrassing that’s happened to us so far.” ben warned

“ooo i’m so scared” y/n exclaimed in a teasing way

“watch it.” ben warned pointing at her with a drumstick

“fine.”

after their exchange, y/n began to look around the kit as ben got ready to leave. walking into the kitchen she began dinner for later in the night and made something that ben could easily heat up later.

“alright, i’m leaving. bye charlie girl.” ben said giving charlie a kiss on her head as she continued to sleep

hours passed and it was now around 8 in the evening and y/n took the doctor's advice and decided to drink some pinot noir. for some reason she managed to handle her alcohol this time and not send anything risky. ben walked in the house to find her giggling as she had managed to drink a little more than usual.

“BEN! oh my god. thank god you’re here. have i told you how much of a great dad you’ll be? i mean i really hate you but you’re like a great dad or “dad” with charlie i guess but still. i’m literally going to be so jealous of whoever gets to have your kids. oh my god i feel so good! but there is one thing i’ve realized the whole time she has been asleep and it’s that i’m never going to take a great bath in this house. this is a shower house. why does it always look like you never brush your hair? that must save a lot of time.” she told him

“how’s that wine treating you? you not going to send anyone anything?”

“no. my phone is in the kitchen so i wouldn’t touch it while i drink. oh. did you want some? because i can definitely share.”  

“nah i’m good.”

“maybe it’s because you don’t worry as much. that’s what lennon told me when they set us up. she said “honey, you just got your ass dumped by your boyfriend of two years and cheated on you, you need a good time.” then you showed up! your charming self shows up at my door and it’s a total asshole at the door. and now i’m about to raise a kid with said asshole.” 

ben didn’t know what to feel but hurt. he really thought that she would come around but clearly she didn’t

“oh god i’m going to regret this huh? i shouldn’t have poured my feelings out to that doctor and just listened to the therapist instead.” she said putting the glass down

“come on. off to bed, i think you’ve had enough.”

“i’ve had so many things thought of that i wanted to say but i can’t remember them” 

“‘kay so you’re a horny drunk and a belligerent drunk? That’ll be a fun next 18 years:” ben told her as they started to walk up the stairs

“i’m a fun drunk too. it just depends on what i drink.” she said as they heard the doorbell ring

ben went to the door to see who it was thinking it was one of their neighbors asking for something but it wasn’t

“Hi”

“hi. i’m janine williams. your caseworker from social services?” the woman said shaking ben's hand as y/n creeped up behind him

“you were told that we’d be making a few unannounced visits.”

“yeah. this is definitely unannounced. just give me one minute.” ben told her closing the door

“social services are at the door. so go and wash your face and get your head out of your ass and hope that you’re as good at acting like you are baking. you got like 5 minutes to sober up.” ben whisper yelled at her pointing towards the stairs

“please come in. i’ll show you around” ben said as he opened the door

she tried her best to sober up as much as she could while ben showed janine around the house and making sure that they could do what they needed to do

“are you sure you don’t want to see it again?” 

“nope, twice is usually my limit.” 

“i’m so sorry. i was finishing up cleaning the dishes. i didn’t have time to do them in the morning so with charlie down i got to do them” she said as they saw a few dishes in the sink

“okay. um let’s get started then”

y/n and ben sat next to each other while janine sat opposite of them

“let’s just talk. just get the sense of the both of you, your plans. where do you see yourselves in, say, five years?”

“OH I KNOW!” y/n practically yelled as ben tried to calm her down

“i own a small bakery, hopefully a full restaurant. anyways i hope to own my own frozen food, organic of course. but charlie, i didn’t include her but she is a part of my plan.”

“that’s fine. Thank you. ben? where do you see yourself in five years?” 

“wow, well hopefully i’ll still be acting. um like she said Charlie is a part of my plan to. i want to show her what i do-” ben started before getting cut off

“that’s what i wanted to talk to you about. the acting. i know actors manage to pull it off all the time but can you do it? can you still make sure that charlie will be provided and seen if y/n is needed for something?”

“yes. of course. with my new film i’ll be shooting here in london and around but i won’t be too far away from them.” ben told her

this was a surprise to her but it shouldn’t have been because of what it was about 

“there’s also another thing i’m concerned about. the dog-”

“yes. frankie. don’t worry, she is completely trained and would never harm charlie and pretty much has been like a protector to her. she knows when to listen and what to do.”

“okay, good. one last thing is the relationship between you two. i did read the daily mail and what they have said and didn’t believe them because who would. but i want to make sure that nothing in this relationship could cause any problems for charlie, especially when she gets older.”

“i’m actually in a relationship right now. and let me tell, it’s not so hot right now but he doesn’t know that. i can promise you that the problems between ben and i can be completely totally worked out.” y/n giggled out 

“exactly. if we have any problems i’m sure we would be able to work them out no matter what the situation is in a nice calm matter for charlie.”

“Good, well not with your relationship, hope everything's alright but with you two living together, the only thing we are concerned with is charlie losing more people she’s close too. well i think that’s it. just know we’ll be making a couple more not to many visits by the end of the year and if there’s any problems, just call us.” janine told them standing up shaking their hands 

when ben closed the door, he began to wonder what she was talking about and thought about whether it was a good time to tell her about what he heard sean say at the funeral 2 months before. 

“there’s something i need to tell you. you probably won’t remember because i can tell you’re still a little tipsy but it’s about sean” he started 

“a couple of months ago during the funeral reception, i overheard sean say something. he’s cheating on you and he wants to marry you because he thinks he’ll be able to get your company and expand it to become more rich.” 

“i know he’s cheating on me. i saw him earlier today that’s why it looked like i was crying.” y/n explained as she put her head on the couch pillow 

“we’ve had a rocky relationship from the start but i was too blind and naive to notice.” 

“so are you going to break up with him?”

“no.”

“no? why? he broke your heart, he’s controlling-”

“you think i don’t know that? every guy i have been with has been like that”

“what about me? we didn’t date but you don’t think i’m like that”

“no i don’t but you deserve someone who’s better.” she told him before continuing 

“i’m going to sleep. g’night ben”

“wait.”

ben did the unthinkable and grabbed her hand, turned her around and kissed her. it was too much to process but she kissed him back and put her hand up to his face 

“please break up with him.” ben whispered to her when they pulled away as their forehead touched

“i’ll try. i promise” she whispered back

the both laid in their beds that night and replayed the kiss in their head over and over again. y/n did have a plan to break up with sean. she didn’t know if it would work seeing that there were possibilities of what could happen. ben couldn’t stop smiling and felt like a teenage girl who just had her first kiss by the boy she liked. he never would’ve thought that the woman he took a booty call in front of a year ago would end up living with him and raising a child with him. 

throughout the night, she kept tossing and turning. not being able to sleep, she went downstairs to find ben peacefully asleep on the couch. she always felt guilty that he had to sleep there but he was too stubborn to let her sleep on the couch while he had the bed. ben woke up from noise being made in the kitchen and quickly retreated only to find her drinking some water. putting his slipper down, he walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder, shocking her

“oh shit you scared me” she said putting the glass down and her other hand over her heart

“yeah sorry. i was just wondering why you were up”

“uh i couldn’t sleep. too much going on. what are you doing up?”

“i heard something, thought it was a burglar”

“and you decided to defend yourself with a shoe?”

“hey shoes can be weapons”

“okay, well i guess we should go back to sleep. i’d also like to apologize for earlier. i know i was drunk but it still doesn’t excuse me and my actions for what i said.”

“it’s fine, i felt the same way in a way i guess at first but i guess i’m over it and yeah we should.” he said as they both awkwardly stood there

as they started to go their separate ways, y/n stopped in her tracks and decided to ask ben something she wouldn’t never thought of 

“hey ben?” 

“yeah?”

“cou-could you stay with me? i don’t know if i’ll be able to sleep, if you don’t that’s okay.” she started to stutter out as her face turned red

“no, no it’s fine. and i’ll stay with you” he told her as he walked over to her and taking her hand

they stepped inside the room and got into the bed. at first they were facing away from each other before they turned around to each other. ben grabbed her waist and pulled her into him. she felt his chest rise and slowly falling back, taking in his scent which consisted of his cologne and cigarettes mixed together. y/n soon felt her eyes close as she felt safe in his arms.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben x reader #ben hardy x female reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x y/n #ben jones #ben jones x reader #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fic #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy angst #ben hardy smut #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #x-men apocalypse #6 underground #peter beale #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #lawki

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

We Do This To Live Ch. 1

Chapter One

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Pairings: Rogue x Remy, Marie x Shuri (eventually), Geneva x Bucky (eventually)

Word Count: 2499 words

Warnings: Cussing, mention of death

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works

--

September 7th, 1990

It seemed all was determined to stay quiet in the apartment. There was no mission. No family of mutants or thieves knocking at their door. Even Oliver remained on his best behavior, curled up and sleeping on his cat mansion that Remy insisted the feline needed.

And yet, even though everyone else was content with letting the night have its way, there was one that simply refused.

Rogue rolled over in her sleep, wincing when she felt the familiar kick inside her stomach. “Remy,” she moaned. While on any other night she would feel guilty for her noise, that was the farthest thing on her mind.  Besides, Remy was a light sleeper. Her tossing and turning would surely be enough to wake him.

“Hm,” he mumbled into his pillow. Blinking slowly, those devilish eyes of his finally opened. Their familiar red glow brought a warmth to Rogue, but it wasn’t enough to calm down the dance occurring in her stomach. “Chere.” That thick accent of his made her look up as his much larger hand rested on her stomach. Tracing light circles against her clothed tummy, he asked, “The petite keepin’ y’up?”

“Swear she kicks my bladder like it’s a soccer ball.” Her accent was heavier due to sleep, something Remy found absolutely adorable and yet would never dare admit. “Why won’t she sleep?”

“Don’t know, mon couer,” he admitted. Their baby was a weird one. It didn’t matter what tricks they tried. She seemed to be full of energy, no matter the time of day. “Want t’try walkin’ again?”

Rogue shook her head, strands falling in front of those pretty eyes of hers. He hoped their girl got her eyes. She would be so lucky. “My feet are so swollen. If I walk anymore, I might cry,” she joked. The both of them knew she was far too strong for that.

“Warm milk?”

Another shake of the head. He had forgotten, it made her sick now.

Jeez, what was with this kid? Propping himself onto his side, Remy felt another harsh kick. He saw the foot press against Rogue’s stomach, outlined even through her shirt. Leaning closer to her belly, he asked, “Why y’gotta keep y’mere up like this, petite?”

Rogue hummed, her eyes blinking slowly as he traced where the baby had kicked. “She likes your voice.”

“Is that right?” Remy looked up at Rogue, eyes sparkling a little brighter. “T’ink I got somet’in’ we could try then.” He reached up, placing a light kiss against her hair before lowering himself back to her stomach. “Best be gettin’ comfy, filles.” Remy patiently waited until Rogue had at least closed her eyes, his hand still splayed across her stomach.

He really hoped this would work.

“Bonne nuit, cher trésor, ferme tes yeux et dors. Laisse ta tête, s’envoler, au creux de ton oreiller. Un beau rêve passera, et tu l’attraperas.” Remy’s voice was a low rumble, so soft and soothing that Rogue could feel the baby inside her start to relax. “Un beau rêve passera, et tu le retiendras. Autres paroles : Le soleil endormi. Déjà tombe la nuit Et la lune douce luit. Endors-toi, mon beau petit. Tous les anges du ciel Ceilleront sur son sommeil.” Remy glanced up at his wife, noticing how her breathing had started to ease. “Who would’ve t’ought y’liked French so much,” he whispered to her stomach, wincing when he felt her shift against his hand. “Ey.” Remy pointedly looked where he guessed their kid’s face was. “Y’stop that. ‘M not done.”

Shifting slightly, Remy smirked when he noticed her calm down again. Their kid was going to be smart; he knew it. Pressing a small kiss next to his hand, he kept singing, “Tes rêves au goût de miel entreront dans un beau soleil. Les oiseaux vont sans bruit. Se blottir au creux du nid Même la pluie dans la nuit ne réveille pas les petits. Rêve, bel enfant, dors dans le vent…” His voice trailed, going softer as both of his girls seemed to stay asleep. Unable to contain his smile, Remy whispered, “Iouciant va bel enfant.”

When he finally laid down, Remy knew there was very little chance of him actually falling asleep again. Not that he minded. Instead, his thumb kept tracing light circles against Rogue’s stomach. They still didn’t have a name for their girl, but at least they could get her to sleep.

--

December 19th, 1990

“Swear she’s gettin’ bigger every day,” he told Rogue. “’Ow she only a week old?” A small squeeze pulled his attention back to the baby in his arms. Her tiny hand clung to his calloused finger, refusing to let go. Those big eyes of hers, dark emeralds with flecks of brilliant gold, watched his finger as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Stubborn like her mere,” he teased as Rogue came up behind him, tugging on one of his shirts.

“Ah think she gets that from both o’ us, Sug.” Rogue placed a kiss on the back of his shoulder, watching as the biggest smile appeared on their daughter’s face.

“Or maybe she’s been watchin’ those Juniper trees outside when she’s supposed t’be sleepin’.” Remy glanced outside, noticing those trees still standing. Still green even in the middle of December. “Dieu knows ‘ow those things managed t’stay green s’long.”

Rogue smiled, not really paying attention to anything but their baby girl. “Our little Geneva,” she murmured, her fingers lightly toying with the tuffs of auburn hair that she’d been born with. “C’mon. Gotta get her down to sleep.” Taking the infant from Remy, Rogue rocked her back and forth and walked towards her crib. “She’s already hard enough to get down.”

“Maybe y’should learn t’sing in French. Then y’wouldn’t need moi every time.”

They both knew Remy didn’t mean a word of it. Probably his favorite thing since becoming a dad was the fact that Rogue still needed him. Especially when it came to their energetic kid. No one, not even Tante Mattie, managed to get her to sleep like he did.

But then again, no one got her to stop crying faster than Rogue did.

Leaning against the edge of the crib, Remy smiled as Geneva looked from her mom to her dad and back again. It was as if she were attempting to understand what they were saying. Remy grabbed her firefly from the foot of the crib, tucking it against her side. Geneva’s arms securely wrapped around the stuffed toy, squeezing it with all her might as Rogue started the mobile. Little bumble bees floated around her, catching her attention as Remy started singing, “Bonne nuit, cher trésor, ferme tes yeux et dors. Laisse ta tête, s’envoler, au creux de ton oreiller…”

Sleep came faster to her now, tugging at Geneva’s eyes as she tried her best to remain awake. However, Remy had spent a couple months perfecting this trick. And it didn’t take much time for her to fall fast asleep.

--

February 8th, 1998

Geneva moved silently, an odd ability considering she was eight years old and still awkward in her own body. She paused as her eyes shifted from her mother’s purse to her parents watching the TV in the living room. They were joined by the rest of the Lebeau family, watching something on the news.  “Signed by 117 countries, the Accords will officially disband any enhanced or mutant groups. Officials say that this is only the beginning. The next step will be to document all those that fall under the definitions of such titles – “

“’Least bein’ t’ieves we don’t gotta worry ‘bout the government pokin’ their noses where it don’t belong,” she heard her grandfather spit.

The voices hadn’t trailed off. It was simply that Geneva wasn’t paying attention anymore. Fingers tugging at the zipper, Geneva winced when it made that irritating sound. But when no one came, she tugged again. Really, they were far too focused on the TV.

Ridiculous cooing and babbling caught Geneva’s attention. She jerked, finding the playpen near the kitchen island. There, playing with some puzzle box her parents had gotten her, was Marie.

Geneva rolled her eyes, pressing a finger to her lips. She needed that brat to be quiet. Marie simply tilted her head, her whole hand moving before she pressed it firmly to her lips. Leave it to Marie to turn a warning into a game.

She turned back to the purse. The kid could be quiet and, if not, she doubted anyone would turn away from whatever that grubby looking news anchor was saying. Finally unzipping the purse, Geneva stuck her hand inside and dug around for her mom’s wallet. Surely it was around here somewhere…

But she was interrupted by babbling again. Marie giggled and threw her toy against the netting.

Geneva looked over her shoulder, huffing as she stared at the brat. “Shush!” Marie, oblivious to the idea of being in trouble, simply grinned a toothless smile. Geneva raised a brow. What a punk.

“And just what do y’t’ink you’re doin’?”

She froze, hand stuck in her mom’s purse and no where to run. “Uh…” Looking up, Geneva came face to face with her dad. He had the same face now that Geneva had shot Marie moments before. “Allô, pere.” Geneva smiled, attempting to give the sweetest one she possessed.

Remy snorted. “Y’gotta get better at that if y’gonna be a thief, ma petite fille.” He plucked her hand out of Rogue’s purse, moving it onto the kitchen island. “C’mon. Don’t know if y’a mutant yet, mas gotta start learnin’ ‘bout this stuff.” He turned her towards the living room, pushing her ahead as he crouched and lifted Marie in one fell swoop.

“But why,” Geneva whined, pouting as Remy ruffled her wild curls.

“‘Cause,” Remy told her, knowing Geneva was far too curious for her own good. He looked down at those pretty green and gold eyes of hers. Surely, she would be a mutant. He was almost certain of it. Sighing softly, Remy decided the best reason to give her was, “‘S important.”

And with that, Geneva knew better than to argue. Her dad was good at explaining things, always giving her an answer because she hated being left in the dark. If that was the reason he had for her, then she would have to accept that it was good enough.

Still...what could the Accords possibly have to do with her life?

--

March 2nd, 2000

Tante Mattie pressed a cool cloth to Geneva’s forehead, wincing when Geneva flinched. She was so sensitive now. “Desole, ma petite luciole,” Tante Mattie murmured, noticing the sweat on her brow. The fever had come out of nowhere. It was so intense when it had first struck that Geneva had been found collapsed outside.

And Remy was supposed to leave for a mission.

“Y’gotta let m’try, Geneva. We just want y’to feel better.”

She tried again with the rag, but Geneva jerked away. “It burns,” she whined, tears brimming in her eyes. Tante Mattie frowned. How could something that was cold burn her skin? “Want mere ‘n’ pere,” Geneva moaned, rolling onto her side. Tante Mattie watched, pain and worry clear in her eyes.

“Let m’see what I can do.” She kissed Geneva’s head. Slipping out of the room, she tried her best to close the door as silently as possible.

“What was her temperature the last time y’checked?”

“103.” Tante Mattie watched the way Remy’s jaw ticked, his shoulders tensing. “I hate t’say it, but it seems t’be risin’.”

Rogue curled into herself, knees hitting her chest as she shook her head. “We should take her to a doctor,” she whispered to Remy, her gloved hand squeezing his wrist. “’Fore it gets worse.”

“I leave in trois hours, Roguey. ‘M gonna be gone a week and she – “ Remy shook his head. They had been so careful with Geneva, always terrified that something might happen to her. It wasn’t that they wanted to be over protective, but before Geneva had been born…they’d had so many miscarriages. They never would have thought they could have a kid and then Geneva proved to be so strong. So brilliantly strong. “I can’t leave ‘er like dis.”

“Remy, sugah…” Rogue gave another squeeze before interlacing their fingers. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. “It’s y’job.”

“I can go.”

The pair looked up, surprised to see Henri standing in the doorway. He held a three year old Marie in his arms, but his attention was on them. He knew how important Geneva was to the two. “Henri,” Remy started to argue.

“It’s an easy mission. We bot’ know that,” Henri assured him as Tante Mattie took Marie. “I’ll be in an out. Would take moi the same amount o’time it would have taken y’.” Remy shifted his gaze to the floor. “C’mon, frère.” Henri smiled, trying to reassure him. “Let moi do this for y’deux. And when she pulls t’rough, maybe the next time won’t be so scary.”

Remy and Rogue shared a look, a silent conversation passing between the two. He looked at Henri, relief finally breaking through the terror etched in his features. “Merci, Henri.”

“We’ll be sure to keep an eye on Marie,” Rogue told him, standing up and giving him a hug. “Thank ya, Hun. It means a lot.”

Henri chuckled, squeezing her tight. “Y’silly. The bot’ o’ya. I’ll be back ‘fore y’know it.”

--

March 5th, 2000

Remy was sitting on Geneva’s bed, watching her sleep soundly for the first time in three days. He couldn’t help the relief he felt at seeing her fever finally break. Her temperature had gotten up to 107, staying there for almost two days before it broke as quickly as it had come.

He ran his fingers through her hair, humming that silly lullaby she had loved so much. When he heard a knock at the door, his brow furrowed. They knew the door was open, why knock? He spared a quick glance at his daughter before carefully, silently, getting up.

Stepping outside, he was careful to shut the door without disturbing the light sleeper on the other side. “Remy…” He tensed when he recognized that tone. It wasn’t the first time he had heard Jean Luc use it. Turning away from the door, Remy noticed the tear stains on his father’s cheeks. It took a lot to make the Guildmaster cry and yet…

He heard Marie crying and turned his attention down the hall. Rogue was standing there, cradling the little genius in her arms. Even from this distance, he could see the tears glistening in his wife’s eyes. Non…Non, non, non…

Remy felt his heart sink as he watched the two, hardly registering Jean Luc’s words. Instead, his own kept repeating in his head – It can’t be true. It can’t. It just…It can’t be true.

And yet still, he heard his father say those damned words.

“He’s dead, son.” A shaky breath and then, “Henri’s dead.”

#rogue x remy #rogue #remy lebeau #romy #xmen ofc #mutant ofc #marvel au #marvel ofc #oc x canon #oc x cc

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found -Chapter 21

Warnings: nothing really. Mentions of blood and gun violence I guess

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007

She arrives in Dhaka shortly before ten in the morning and takes a taxi to the hustle and bustle of the downtown market area. Her escape from the Mahajan home had gone much easier than she'd anticipated; the challenging part having to somehow slip from underneath the weight of Tyler's arm in an effort to sneak out of the bed. When he did manage to rest, he was a notoriously light sleeper; awakening at the slightest of noises or the smallest hint of trouble. That morning he'd been resting heavier than normal. On his stomach with his arm draped over her, snoring louder than she'd ever heard him. And her heart had nearly leapt clear out of his chest when he stirred, mumbling incoherently but never awakening.

 From there on out, things had been simple. Catching the overnight guards on a joint coffee break out by the pool; laughing and chatting and paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around them. She'd been able to pinch the keys to the rental off the kitchen counter where her husband had left them the night before, along with an extra loaded Glock revolver he kept store in a lock box on a shelf in the master bedroom closet; freshly cleaned and holding a full magazine. 

 She once again considered telling him; shaking him awake and announcing that she was heading to Dhaka. That if he wanted to come along so be it, but she wasn't going to let him stop her. His resistance would have been legendary, especially now that they knew she was indeed pregnant. And she knew his already overwhelming need to protect her would become even more so.  He saw it in the same way as he did the job; she and Amelia were his priorities and responsibility and failure was simply not  an option.

 So she let him sleep.

��The market is just as she remembers; sights, smells, sounds. The dirty streets and derelict  buildings,  the scent of diesel gas and strong coffee hanging in the air, the chatter and laughter of pedestrians and the blaring of horns and humming of engines. She stands across the street from the hotel that they had stayed at a year ago; run down and in disarray, faded paint and cracked mortar, crumbling balconies with missing railings. She can see the patio that had belonged to them; on the third floor, a heavy wool rung over over the wrought iron balcony railing and two simple plastic patio chairs tipped on their sides. Every morning they'd sit out there. Sipping strong coffee and filling their bellies with whatever Tyler had been able to grab that morning. Sometimes they'd simply people watch and make commentary on what was happening on the street below. Other mornings they'd be painstakingly surveying the crowds and sharing notes on anything and anyone that seemed even remotely suspicious. 

 Most of the time however, they would just engage in small talk. Those little yet entirely eye opening conversations that take place between couples when they're just in the 'getting to know you' stage.  Sure, they had quickly come realize what they both liked and enjoyed in bed, but they still very much needed to see if they clicked outside of a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets.

 Her feelings are mixed.  It is both enlightening and disheartening to be back in Dhaka, where she'd fallen in love with the man she now called her husband.  Where she'd been made to feel alive again; deserving of love and adoration,  respect and worship.  She had long ago forgotten what it had felt like to be in love; the butterflies in your stomach,  the way your heart began to race when they so as much smiled at you, those jolts of electricity that passed between the two of you every time you touched or kissed.

  She had thought she'd never experience those  again;  she had a failed marriage, an abusive narcissistic ex under her belt, a job that she enjoyed and could not see herself walking away from.  She had no more trust left. No faith. 

 And then she'd walked into that shack in the Australian outback.

 It is bittersweet. The good memories and the horribly bad co-mingling. And she forces herself to walk away, not allowing her emotions to get the better of her. She needed to keep her head on straight. She needed clear thinking and her instincts to steer her through those busy and often violent streets. And she needed to hold onto that overwhelming need to revenge.  To see things through  to the end of the line.  Nik hadn't been able to finish things off a year ago. But she was determined to.

 She grabs a herbal tea in hopes of soothing her queasy stomach; nerves and anticipation not mixing well with ferocious morning sickness. She'd had to take three Dramamine tablets just to make it through the short flight.  She promises herself that when this is all over, she'll go back to the things that helped her get through the first pregnancy: proper diet and sleep, a psychologically healthy way of coping with stress. If she could get through the first one despite all of the angst surrounding her, she could get through anything.

 She wanders the market to kill time. Talking to the vendors and browsing their wares, attempting to drive away any suspicion as to why someone like her would be in a place like that. Especially alone.  She hides her eyes under the brim of a baseball cap but they are always watching.  Casually observing the people around her. Some of the locals watch her intently; perhaps recognizing her face yet unable to place where and how they actually know it. And she gets friendly smiles and pleasant hellos, readily welcomed into the area.

 It is so easy. It always has been. Blending in in order to to garner valuable information had been her specialty when she was still on the job. Able to gain peoples' trust, casually asking all the right questions without seeming overly interested. The people in the market had taken to her. Taken to them. A young, attractive newlywed couple who'd forgone a traditional honeymoon in favour of outreach work. The premise had seemed wild and far fetched when Nik had pitched it. But it had worked.

 A little too well.

 Her cell phone vibrates in the front pocket of her shorts. Another frantic and downright furious text message sent on Tyler's behalf. He's been calling and texting non stop since he'd woken up and found out that not only she was missing, but also the keys to the rental and one of his weapons.  He's worried. Pissed off. The texts a and voicemails a mixture of of him worrying about if she's okay and demanding to know where she is, and angry please for her to just call him back.  She feels guilty as she stands there, staring down at the last message he'd sent.  Knowing the rage that he must be in; anger and worry are powerful combination. And her fingers linger on the screen, attempting to come up with a suitable reply. She should at least tell him that she's okay. That she'll be home by night fall and he doesn't need to worry. But when the phone rings in her and his cell number pops up on the screen, she hesitates. Thumb over the green talk icon.

 She opts to send it to voicemail instead.

 ***

 He knew something was wrong the moment he awoke. Torn from an unusually deep and peaceful sleep by the baby's shrill, incessant crying and one of the maids pounding on the door and  asking if everything was okay.  He hadn't had a sound sleep like that in years; his senses and instincts always running on high.

 Esme would never leave the baby to cry; believing that you could never spoil a child, especially an infant, with too much attention and cuddles. So when he'd bolted up in bed and saw that her place beside him was empty, he lost it. A combination of rage and worry driving him through the roof. Attempting to stay calm for his daughter that so desperately needed him and failing miserably; relinquishing all care to the now visibly frazzled nanny. 

 His brain immediately switches to auto pilot; propelling him through the room, searching  for clues as to where she's wandered off to. Her purse is missing. The pyjamas she'd worn to bed discarded in the hamper in the en-suite bathroom. And then he sees it: the closet door ajar.  He knows. He just knows. Storming across the room and throwing the door open and grabbing the lock box on the shelf.

 It's empty. The lock picked.

 His first reaction is absolute rage. At her, at the guards for completely fucking up and being so oblivious to what was going around them that they didn't even her sneak out. How does someone get away that fast? Stealing both a gun and a car without anyone noticing? And he's pissed that she won't return any of his calls or texts. Rage and frustration growing with each passing second.

 Worry comes next. That maybe the first anniversary of his near death experience has pushed her over the edge. And it's then that he begins to slowly piece if all together: the freak out that she'd had back home when she'd seen Farhad's picture. Her incessant, almost obsessive need for revenge. How she'd talked about wanting to go back to the bridge. The one place she felt as if she could finally let go of the past and move on.

 He calls the one person he knows can help.

 “Where the fuck is my wife, Nik?” he doesn't even give her a chance to say hello of give her trademark 'talk to me'.

 “Your wife? What are you talking about? What...?”

 “I woke up  and she was gone. You were worried that I'd be the one taking off? My wife is missing, Nik. She's gone. And she stole my gun and my car and I have no fucking clue where she is.”

 Silence from the other end.

 “Don't even try and bullshit me, Nik. I know that you know. There's no way she thought of this all on her own and the only other person she trusts other than me, is you. Where is she?”

 “I honestly never thought it would come to this,” she admits. “I thought she'd just move on. Let it go.”

 “What are you talking about? What...?”

 “She wanted me to find the kid that shot you. Farhad. She wanted me to track him down and arrange a meeting with him. At first I went along with it...”

 “What the fuck, Nik...” he closes his eyes and releasing a long, shaky sigh.  “Why? Why the hell would you agree to that?”

 “I changed my mind. I started dragging my heels. Making excuses. Hoping she'd just let it go.”

 “Well obviously she hasn't.  And she's obviously got someone else helping her.”

 “I think it's Jason. He asked for some personal time. I became suspicious and had Yaz track his cell . It says he's somewhere in Bangladesh. We have no idea of his exact location.”

 There's the rage again. Accompanied by so much more. Worry. Frustration. The burn of bile in his throat.

 “Tyler?”

 “I need to you to get me a flight to Dhaka. Right now.”

 “Tyler, I don't think...”

 “I don't give a shit what you think. I don't care what strings you have to pull or how many asses you have to kiss. Get me a flight.”

 “I need a little time. I...”

 'Now Nik,” he orders, and disconnects the call.

 ****

 “Hey, I remember you!” a cheerful voice calls from across the street. “The wife!”

 Esme is surprised to see him after all this time, still tucked away on a small side street away from the hustle and bustle of the main market.  The vendor that that sold Tyler the bracelet that she'd wandered away to admire. A simple piece of jewellery becoming the catalyst for so much more.

 “I'm surprised you even remember me,” she says. “What with wearing a hat and all.”

 “I never forget a pretty face. Or such a sweet smile. It's been a long time, friend.”

 “A whole year,” she confirms, returning the hug that he offers.  “You've been well?”

 “I have. Things have been busy, busy. You still have the bracelet?”  he nods down at her left wrist,  a prideful smile spreading from ear to ear. “Looks as good as new!”

 “The clasp broke  and my husband fixed it for me.”

 “Ahhh...the husband...nice guy..very tall...very strong...where is he? He here?”

 “Off doing his own thing,” she lies, and immediately feels guilty for it. “We have a baby now. A little girl. Amelia,” she produces her cell phone from the pocket on her shorts, once again ignoring the dozens of text messages that she's received in the past ten minutes alone. Instead, she brings up a photo on the phone and holds it out to out to him. Their first ever family picture; Amelia a mere ten days old, in her father's arm in a white eyelet sundress,  the three of them sitting in the sand.  Barefoot. Tanned. Smiling.

  It seems like a lifetime ago.

 “She's beautiful!” he gushes. “Like her mother. But definitely looks like her father. How have you been? Good? Everyone is fine? You just disappeared last year. Out of thin air. I just stopped seeing you one day. We had some trouble here. Right after you left. Between those drug people that we talked about last time you were here. And some white fellow.  There was a big shoot out out on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Did you hear about it?”

 “I heard a few things,” she says. Not feeling the need to tell him that she'd been right in the damn middle of it. “Do you still have your ear to the ground? Is there anything new going on?”

 “Trouble,” he throws up his hands in exasperation. “Always trouble.”

 She browses his various items as she speaks. “What kind?”

 “Some white fellow is in town. Not your white fellow, though. He's been asking a lot of questions. Wanting to know about one of the street kids.”

 Jason.

 “I thought maybe he was here to cause trouble. Or take the kid away. But they already seemed to know each other. Like they weren't strangers when they met.  They were on a first name basis.”

 She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don't think this white guy was just playing nice to get something he wanted?”

 “Perhaps. But it didn't seem that way. I'm very good at reading people. And I could read him well. They knew each other. No doubt in my mind. Very casual when they spoke. Not angry. Or in a hurry. Just like old friends.”

 Her stomach clenches. And she has to  force the vomit down.

 “Why you ask?”

 She manages a smile. “Just curious. Is there anything else? Did you see anything? Hear what they were talking about?”

 “Just that they left together. Yesterday. From the hotel up the street. The one you stayed at last year. I never saw them again. You know them?”

 “The white fellow is a colleague of mine. Or at least I thought he was.”

 She selects a child's size bracelet for the baby and produces her wallet from her bag; removing  two twenties and holding them out in offering. Too much money for the jewellery, yet not enough for the information he'd given her.

  That was invaluable. 

 “Thank you,” she says, as she drops the wallet and bracelet into her bag. “I honestly can't thank you enough. I have to go. There's some things I need to do.”

 “It was nice seeing you!” he calls after her. “Tell your husband to stop by. Nice guy he is!”

 Esme gives a small wave in farewell, then disappears into the crowd.

 ****

 The hotel manager gives her an extra key with little more than twenty bucks and a brief description of who she is looking for.  And she waits outside of the door, straining her ears for any kind of life inside.  The creak of footsteps on the rickety, bowed floor,  the sound of the shower running through this ancient pipes.

 Silence.

 She lets herself into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. In case a quick getaway is needed and there's no fumbling with knobs and hinges. The room is tiny; much smaller than the one that she and Tyler had shared a year ago in this very building. Sunlight streams through the window, highlighting the particles of dust that hang and float in the air. Like the rest of the hotel's rooms and the building itself, it is a complete dive:  the hardwood floors scuffed and decaying, various stains marring the walls, water marks on the once white stucco ceiling; crude patches of plaster covering where work had been done to fix a leak. 

 Like the room she'd stayed in, the linens on the bed are fresh and new. A crisp white that makes the damage and filth around it even more noticeable.

 She snoops. Going through cupboards in the tiny kitchenette. Rummaging through silverware drawers, cupboards full of chipped mugs and plates. Not knowing exactly what is she's looking for, but letting her logic and instincts guide her; the old aspects of the job quickly returning and filling her with much needed confidence and courage.  There's a coffee cup in the sink; water and soon to dissolved dish soap filling it to the brim, a sponge floating in the midst.  

 He's been gone a while.

 She moves into the combined bedroom and living area next. Leafing through pamphlets, two days worth of newspapers, and discarded sheets of writing paper. Still nothing.  Placing her hands on her hips she takes a step back to get a look at the room. It is surprisingly tidy considering the actual state of the building. The patio door has been left open a crack; allowing the dirt and debris from the busy street below to trickle into the room.  The air is hot and heavy. Suffocating. And the sweat has already begun to gather at her hairline and across her brow.

 The bed is made, sheets pulled tight, and she moves towards it. Pausing long enough to pull open the drawers on the nightstand. Empty.  Frowning, she moves along. Running her hand along the top of the sheet in hopes of feeling something hidden underneath them. Then drops to her knees and slides her hand in between the mattress and the box spring; blindly feeling her way along the smooth surface until her fingers come in contact with something smooth.

 It's a file folder. Brand new. The colour still fresh and vibrant, the corners unbent and still sharp.  And she perches herself on the edge of the bed, preparing herself for what she may find inside. It could be nothing; just some paperwork that included sensitive information and names that preying eyes weren't privy too. 

 Photographs.  Some black in white.  Others in colour.  The bile rises in her throat once again and the nausea kicks into high gear.  Her heart pounds within her chest; hands shaking, the sweat trickling down now. 

 Tyler. Her. Their baby. Dating as far back to his release from the hospital, when Esme was still pregnant and they'd been struggling to keep things together but were optimistic about the future.  One of the moment they were leaving the medical facility with their three day old infant. There's more. So many more.  Outside of their apartment, on the street, at the beach. Snapshots of private and personal moments. Where they're smiling and laughing and completely oblivious to the fact someone was watching them.

 Her cell phone rings and she nearly jumps clear out of her skin.

 Nik.

 She would have just let it go to voicemail. Ignoring it and the text messages that would start pouring in. But she needs to tell someone. Anyone.

 “Where the hell are you?” Nik hisses, before Esme even has a chance to offer a greeting.

 “I'm in Dhaka.”

 “What is wrong with you? All hell is breaking loose.  Why would you do this? I told you to just drop it. To let it go.”

 “You said you would help me.  Where are you, Nik? Why didn't you follow through? You promised you'd help.”

 “I was hoping you'd change your mind. This is insane. You're insane. What...?”

 “I'm in Jason's room,” she announces.

 “Excuse me? What? What the hell are you doing in there? Are you...?”

 “No. I'm not having an affair. It's not what you think.  I sent Jason to Dhaka. To find out more about that kid Fahrad. Only he already knows him. He's in on it, Nik. All the bullshit that's been happening to Ovi. All the threats, all the letters, all the dead animals. He's involved in it. Somehow.”

 “You're crazy. I'm sending Yaz to come and get you and Tyler.”

 “Tyler? What...?”

 “He left for Dhaka four hours ago. He's freaking out, Esme. He's pissed and he's worried and he's on his way to you. I had to tell him. I had to.  He's your husband. The father of your child. He loves you. And he has a right to know what the hell is going on and if you're okay.”

 “There's pictures,” she says. “A whole folder of them. Of Tyler and I. And of the baby. Taken back in Australia.  As far back as when he was still in the hospital.”

 “What are you talking about? Esme...did you break into his hotel room? What the hell are you doing? You need to get out of there. Before he comes back. Just get the hell out of there and don't look back.”

 “I've gotta go, Nik.”

 “Esme, listen to me. Just get out of there and go somewhere safe. In public. Tell Tyler where you are and he'll find you.  Don't make this any worse than it has to be.”

 “I've got to,” she insists, and disconnecting the call, drops both her cell and the folder into her bag. 

 ****

 She returns the key and gives the manager another ten for his troubles. He's grateful; business has been slow and the owner is two weeks late with his pay.

 “Did you find everything you were looking for?” he curiously inquires, and she smiles and slips her sunglasses onto her face.

 “More than I expected to.”

 Her stomach churns. The sweat comes in rivers. Yet she violently shivers as she steps out onto the busy street. Head down to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. Keeping a casual pace, wanting to avoid drawing any suspicious towards her.

 She's half a block from the main part of the market when it happens. A hand roughly snatching her by the top of the arm and yanking her into the alley. A second hand coming down over her mouth to stifle the startled yelp.  Someone big and strong using their power to pin her up against the brick wall.

 “Don't fucking bite me.”

 The voice is low. Savage almost.  Accompanied by furious blue eyes. And instead of sinking her teeth into the flesh of his palm, she shakes her head vigorously to get him to release his grip.

 “Tyler, what the hell?! You scared the shit out me!”

 “I scared the shit out of you? That's fucking rich. What the hell are you doing here? I wake up and you're gone and I find out you're here? In Dhaka? What the fuck?”

 “I told you I needed to come back here,” she feebly attempts an explanation. He's too livid; nothing will get through to him when he's in this kind of state.  “I told you and you refused to listen.”

 “Because I thought it was fucking insane. But if you'd just asked me to come with you, I would have. You know that. What the fuck, Esme? Why were you in the hotel?”

 “You've been following me?”

 “Since the market. Since you talked to that vendor from last year. He's the one who told me you were looking for some colleague of yours.”

 “I broke into Jason's room,” she admits.

 “What the...”

 “He isn't who he says he is, Tyler. He isn't who anyone thinks he is. He even fooled Nik.”

 He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

 “He's one of them. One of Asif's people. And I know this sounds insane and I would probably think so too if I just hadn't gone through quite possibly the most messed up year in my entire life.”

 “Considering the shit I've seen and done, nothing is crazy any more.”

 “The vendor told me that he saw Jason and that Fahrad kid together. Which would make sense at first because I'm the one who told him to come here and track him down. But he said they acted as if they knew each other. And that they left together. So I decided to go to the hotel and...”

 “Commit break and enter,” he finishes for her.

 “Well technically it wasn't B and E because I had a key. But  I found these...” she reaches into her bag and pulls out the file folder.  “Pictures. Of us. Of Millie. Going back to when you were still in the hospital. This is fucked, Tyler. He's fucked.”

 He takes the folder from her and flips through it. She sees the way his jaw clenches and the way the vein in his throat begins to throb, making that thick, jagged scar even more noticeable. Those blue eyes growing darker with each photo.

 “What are we going to do?” she asks.

 “We're going to the bridge,” he tucks the folder back into her bag. “We're going to give him what he wants.”

 “Tyler...no...we can't...you can't.”

 “Do you trust me? I need you to trust me.”

 She nods. “With my life.”

 He takes hold of her hand, pulling her out onto the sidewalk. “Let's go.”

 ****

 “I've done all that I can,” Nik announces.  “Pulled every string and called in every favour I could. I can have the bridge closed for twenty minutes. That's it.”

 “I won't need that long,” Tyler informs her, cell phone pressed to his ear as he and Esme sit in a stolen car on the west side of the bridge. It's all coming together now: alarmingly vivid recollections of the last time he'd been there.

  The sights and the sounds; boots crunching against pavement as he stepped over the sea of bodies that Saju had already collected on his own.  The rapid pops of gunfire further down the bridge, terrified bystanders fleeing from the area, the moans of those that lay dying in the roadway.  He'd already been injured; shrapnel from bullets, shards of glass embedded in his skin, combining with the wounds that he'd suffered the day before.  Shoulder in agony; every movement causing pain like a white hot poker to shoot from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers. He'd been vaguely aware of the fact he was bleeding; remembering the way it softly trickled down the left side of his face and both arms.  He was weary; panting and out of breath.

 But he kept going.  With each bullet he fired and each life he took, he counted down the steps...the seconds...until freedom.  Until he'd see her again. Thinking of the plans they'd made while tangled up in bed, naked and sweaty bodies pressed up against one another. His fingers tangled in her hair and her head resting on his chest, their voices sleepy as they talked about all the things they would do as they got to know each other in all the ways that didn't involve. Not that the sex wasn't going. It was incredible. But there'd been so much more to discover about one another and he'd been looking forward to it. They'd travel; that was their final decision. Taking some of the money they'd be paid and taking nothing more than their passports and a few change of clothes and just seeing where they'd end up.  Colorado was first on the list.  He wanted to see the mountains.  Where she lived. Maybe even meet her family. 

 And that..along with seeing Ovi's safe return home...had been what had kept him going. Despite the blood and the pain and the mounting injuries. The thought that someone was waiting for him on the other side of that bridge.

 “Don't kill him,” Nik implores.

 “I will if I have to.”  He is expecting to have to make the decision. Whether to take the younger man's life or just beating him within inches of his demise and then letting him live. 

 “If you can find cover afterwards, I'll send Yaz to get you. An hour. Two at the most.”

 “We'll manage,” he says.

 “Be careful, Tyler. I know you're angry. I know you want revenge.”

 He's not sure if she means against Jason or the kid who'd nearly taken his life.  He choose the former.  “He put my wife in danger, Nik. Who knows what he was going to do to her once he got a hold of her. It wouldn't have been good. You and I both know that.”

 “You don't know how many other people are involved in this. He can't be working alone.  It's too much work for just one person. Don't let your guard down. Make sure you come back in one piece. Both of you.”

 He disconnects the call and slips his phone into the pocket on the leg of his cargo pants. Reaching for Esme's bag that sits at her feet, he takes out the Glock; removing the magazine and one in the chamber.

 “Are you sure this is going to work?” she nervously inquires.

 “It'll work,” he assures her, and drops the gun back into the satchel before placing it in her lap.

 “I wasn't going to kill him, you know. That kid. Scare him. But not kill him.”

 He wants to believe her. But he knows the power of revenge. How loving something and someone so much can cloud your judgment. There was a time where he wanted what she did:  Farhad lying cold and dead in the street. But with the physical healing came some mental repair as well.  Revenge only dragged you down. Hardened you. Made you just as bad as the person who caused your harm.  You'd never be able to fully go on with your life and enjoy your future with that kind of baggage weighing you down.

 “I'm sorry,”  she's staring out the window as she talks; voice low, eyes glassy. No doubt filled with her own memories of the last time they'd been there. “I know you're pissed.”

He snorts. “You think just a little bit?”

 “I know this isn't where you want to be.  In Dhaka. Back on this bridge.”

 “You really think that that's what I'm upset about? That I had to come back here?” he shakes his head incredulously, and placing his elbow on the window ledge, places the side of his head in his palm and closes his eyes. His head feels as if will explode. So many emotions. All of them too powerful and all consuming. And the memories...come back with the force of a tsunami. “How can you know so well one minute and then know fuck all the next?”

 She shifts uncomfortably beside him, knee brushing up against his,  her hands nervously twisting at the strap on her bag.

 He cracks open an eye and casts a sidelong glance at her. This woman that he was wildly and crazily head over heels for. Who had walked into his life and filled the enormous hole inside of him in the way no amount of drugs, pills, and self loathing could ever do.  Who had so willingly and unselfishly given up her life in order to improve his.  Who'd give him a child. Two now, if you considered the one currently growing inside of her.  He lays a hand on her thigh; stilling the anxious twitches. Then closes his eyes once more.

 “That's not why I'm pissed,” he says. “I'm not pissed I had to come here. I'm pissed that you did what you did. You were the one that was worried about me sneaking off. I never thought you'd be the one doing it. All you had to do was tell me. I would have given you a hard time about it, but I would have come here with you. But you didn't give me that chance, did you.”

 “I thought it would easier just to do it on my own,” she confesses. “I didn't want to put this on you.”

 “You're not putting anything on me. The second we put rings on each other's fingers, we said we'd bear the weight of each other's burdens.  That we wouldn't have to deal with things alone. And the fact you just went ahead and left...”

 “I'm sorry,”  he can hear the tears in her voice. Can see the image in his head: those dark eyes filling to the brim, the way her lower lip always trembles. Even when she's crying she's beautiful.

 “And you just didn't leave me. You left the baby.  My  baby. And she needs her mother. What if you'd never come home? She'd spent the rest of her life wondering about you and I'd spent the rest of my life trying to make sure she never forgets you. And what about the other baby? The one that's inside of right now.  Did you even stop to think about them? What could have happened? Not just to you but that baby too? You didn't make these kids on your own. They're mine too. You're not the only one that loves them and would die for them.”

 “I know...” her voice cracks, and he can feel her hand as it settles on top of his.  And he laces their fingers together, squeezing tightly.  “I know you hate right now.”

 “I could never hate you. Ever. There's times where you piss me off and I don't like you very much. But I could never hate you. I love you too much. With everything I am. With everything I have.”

 She raises their hands to her lips and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I love you. I don't think you'll ever realize how much. And I am sorry. I didn't do this to hurt you. Or make you mad. I did it so that I could finally move on. Because it's been so hard...so fucking hard.”

 She cries in earnest now, and he opens his eyes and reaches across the car; a hand on the back of her head as he pulls her into him. Her face tucking into the hallow of his throat. His face in her hair as he takes in the scent in that lingers on those dark tresses.

 “It's time to go,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple.

 “Tell me it's going to be okay.”

 “It's going to be okay,” he promises, and places a kiss to her forehead.  “Trust me.”

 “I do,” she assures him and then gives her bravest smile as she pushes his hair off his forehead. “I'd sort of miss you if you weren't around.”

 “I'd sort of miss you too. Even if you do  do stupid shit sometimes.”

 She kisses him. Her lips soft and warm against his.  Then pulls away and opening the car door, slings her bag over her shoulder and steps out.

 All he can do is sit there and watch her walk away.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #i found

[acesophiewalten]

My Darling Daughter

Okay so, I wrote this with the encouragement of some of my discord frens. It is essentially my take on what’s in the sugar bowl. 

WARNING: This contains major character death, some gore, and blood. This is during the events of ASOUE 

Please Enjoy! 

She looked so much like her mother.

That was the best thing about Violet Baudelaire, Esmé Squalor thought, standing over Violet’s unconscious body. The brunette was laying on a gurney, unconscious, her mouth shut over a mask slowly providing oxygen. They had to look like they were keeping her alive. Yet, whenever Esmé thought about Violet past her mother, her stomach always seized, and she tried not to notice it. She smirked, self-confident, taking a few more steps towards Violet, a long, sharp knife in her crimson-manicured hand. She took a couple of steps more, leering over the teen, holding the knife above her head for a slight minute. And then, she saw the slow, easing breaths of the girl, the slightly furrowing brow, her pink-pink cheeks, and all of a sudden, the knife felt heavy. Her arm was starting to shake, her hands too, and she slowly put the knife down, her self-absorbed smirk suddenly disappearing. She looked down at the ties, and for a split second, she felt as if she wanted to untie them and take the car. Run, run, run, and work from there.

Her lips suddenly split into a bit of a bitter smile. Violet would have to have some nice blonde locks, and lighter eyes. Swap out her inventing with some plies, fouettes. Yet, that would still only be a halfway, at most. Violet, dearest, she would have to completely change. She would have to be more domineering, less careful of what she was going to say, more cynical. If Violet really wanted to get out of this, she should cut off all ties with everyone and run, run, run, Lia would’ve done that.

Lia would’ve done that.

Lia would’ve done that.

Why now? Why here?

Esmé felt her hands clam up. Her tight, nearly latex nurse outfit felt restricting, hot, as if she was being forcefully pushed in from all sides. The knife, still in her hands, felt like it was cutting into her, and her brain was overflowing with memories. Shit. It was the same little girl, always, the same little girl with the butter blonde hair and the large, innocent brown eyes. She didn’t age past fourteen, and even then she looked very much younger. Her Lia was always late on everything, late to lose her childish cuteness, late to finally get it in her head that you shouldn’t mess with important people.

She wasn’t late to die, though, E!

She felt her hands shaking, and the knife clamoured against the floor. She quickly reached for her purse, placed on the ledge right below the window. She was barely holding a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter right next to them, and all of a sudden, all of a sudden, she could remember that one day.

She held up a pack of Camels in her hand, wearing a wooly, baby blue dress and loafers with bobby socks, “I thought you said you quit.”

The box was open, and the cigarettes were half-gone. Esmé stared at her, astounded, she thought she hid them better than that! Her eight-year-old found them? No, not possible! Well, it wasn’t like Jerome helped her, Lia didn’t really talk to him.

“Julia Esmé Katherine Squalor, you were poking around my room?”

The girl suddenly looked very guilty, which wasn’t nice to see. Esmé hated it when her daughter was overcome with feelings that made her brilliant smile disappear, her head tilt down in shame. “Momma, you told me you quit,” she sighed, softly, “What would Daddy and I do if you died, Momma? What would your fans do? They need you, we need you!” She tried to smile, but it came out laboured, “I’m not sure you want to die, do you?”

Esmé was already walking over, and she gently picked the pack out of her daughter’s hand.

She looked down at her daughter’s heart-shaped face, took a shaky breath in, “Darling, of course not. I just don’t want you looking around Momma’s room without her permission, alright?”

Julia nodded, her yellow eyelashes fluttering, and she paused. She quickly ran over to her mother’s side, clutching Esmé’s hand, “Come on. Let’s throw the damn box out and we can play Monopoly.” “Don’t say, damn, darling.”

She quickly wiped her eyes, there were black, mascara-laden tears roaming down her face and causing streaks. The new pack of cigarettes had spilled on the floor, along with the lighter. Her hands were still shaking, madly, and her fingernails were digging into her cheeks. She felt something, bubbling up in her throat, and her hand moved to her neck to combat it. It was smoke, she realized, smoke from fire. Then it was fruity, girlish perfume, mixed in, and she almost felt like throwing up.

It’s all in the Sugar Bowl.

Those two words bloomed large, suddenly, in her mind. Sugar Bowl, deserving capital letters, that was where the evidence was. Everything to bring her sweetheart to justice, her darling, her Lia, it was all in there. All of it. Esmé looked down, still wiping tears, it was the brat’s mother. Violet looked like her mother, her murderess mother, her murderess mother who had the gull to light the match, light the fire. Her fists suddenly balled up, her hands stopped shaking, however she didn’t pick up the knife. Instead, she swooped and grabbed her cigarette pack, her lighter, and suddenly, she saw Violet smile in her sleep.

She picked up the knife, and all of a sudden, it was like electricity was flowing through her hands. Her heart was beating, nearly out of her chest, but this didn’t stop her. She could hear the violins, almost, playing in the background, as she was getting angrier and angrier. How dare she, how dare she smile, seem happy, when all of this was happening? Your mother set my dearest on fire, your mother stored what I needed to give her a happy ending out of my reach! How dare you-how dare?

She was so, so, so close to Violet’s neck, her nose was almost touching it. The blankness of her stare, her icy eyes gone even more glassy, and she held the knife, slowly moving it towards the teen’s neck. Her hands had started shaking again, although….

Justice would never be served, never, not until the sugar bowl was in her spindly fingers and she got it published in the papers that Madam Beatrice Baudelaire murdered a child by way of a secret society.

But seeing hot, red blood pour out of her daughter’s neck, to pull away the oxygen mask and let her wake up to the pure, unadulterated horror, to have the broad’s child in the spot where her baby once was, well, it was one step closer.

#asoue #angst #violet baudelaire #esme squalor #death #sad #I need help

[officalkittycat1619]

I'll always be your hero

《Mirio Togata x Chubby Reader》 Chapter 5

Bzzt Bzzt

My heard my phone vibrate multiple times on my desk. I got up from my bed, realizing what time was, I was sleeping for two hours. I checked my phone who it was, there were a bunch of messages from Mirio & Dad.

From: Baby Blonde Boi (2 hours ago):

Doll where are you? Sir, Bubble, Midoriya, and I are you looking for you! Please respond.

From: Dad (2 hour ago):

(Reader), answer your phone! Where are you?!

From: Baby Blonde Boi (recent): 

Doll please answer!

I turned my phone off after reading those messages. That's when my phone vibrated one more. This time, Mirio was calling me, I instantly hanged up which was a terrible idea. Now Mirio and Dad will get suspicion even more. The least thing I wanted is  Mirio along with Dad worrying about me to death. It's fine if they worry about a little, but.....

*Knock* *Knock*

"(Reader)..... Doll, are you in there? It's me, Mirio. Sir's here too."

Crap! I tried getting up from my bed, but my quirk instantly activated causing me my entire body to be in pain. It lead to a point where I crashed into my task chair pretty loud enough for Dad and Mirio to hear it.

"(Reader)!" I heard them say my name in unison. The door instantly open to Dad & Mirio running in. They both saw me laying on the ground in pain as my body continuously glitched. "(Reader)!" Dad got onto the ground, he lifted me up. "You went over your limit! Didn't you?"

"W-what was I supposed to do Dad! I couldn't stand the fact about wh- Gah!" My body glitched once more, this time it was even more painful than before. I realized I had my special gloves on from the support class. I pushed the small button on the side of my wrist, it injected the remedy for my sudden "glitch".

I sighed with relief as it quickly took effect. "Mirio, please leave me and my daughter alone." Mirio did as he was told, then Dad grabbed me by the shoulders making me look at him straight in the eyes. "What were you thinking, (Reader)? You know better not to go over your limit!" For an entire hour, Dad scolded me for going over my limit. "Why can't you understand just a simple rule! Don't go storming off while using your quirk! You had me worried sick!"

I felt guilty about running off like that, but my short-temperament got the best of. "Look, I'm sorry Dad alright! Geez! I couldn't handle the fact about what happen today!" I turned my gaze from him. He places his hand onto my shoulder,"I know you did, but remember we're doing what we can. We already contacted other agencies about the case. Your not the only one frustrated, Mirio & Midoriya are feeling the same way as you do...."

I looked at his with a sadden face,"Yea yea....It's just..... *Sigh* Eri reminded me of her, Dad...." Dad looked at me concernedly. "The fact that I couldn't help her, it gave me flashbacks of that night years ago. That caused me to feel even more guilty than I already am...." I tried holding back the tears, the least thing I wanted was for Dad to see me being weak.  

I felt Dad's on my head, he gently pats it. "(Reader), I'm sorry.... I'm promise you we're doing the best we can for now. We've already contacted other agencies for this case." I only nod my head in response. Dad gives me a hug and a quick peck on the forehead before heading out. He stands in front of the door, "When this case is solved and get the girl back, I swear I'll spend more time with you, (Reader)."

I smiled, "Yea, thanks Dad." He opens the door, letting Mirio in and leaves. I ran outside of my dorm, "Dad wait!" He stops and looks at me. "I love you." He let's out a small smile, which was rare for him to do. "I love you too, (Reader)."

With that he left the 3rd years dormitories. Throughout the rest of the day was pretty quiet for Mirio and I. Our day of patrolling wasn't something we expected to happen. I checked up on Midoriya to see if he was alright. I have felt this way since that night.....

God, I can't believe it's already been three years since it happened.

-Flashback-

"You need to learn how to control your quirk, (Reader)!"

.

.

.

"Your special in your own way, honey. They just haven't seen the real you yet..."

.

.

"Let her go!"

.

.

.

"I'll be alright, (Reader).... I'll be fine, I promise...."

.

.

.

"Ņ̶͚̱̺̺̫̹̈̈́͂̆̾̽̿̀̂̄͗̎͌͝Ņ̴̛̰͔̘̅̌͑̋̈͋͗͂͝Ņ̶̛̦͎͍̪͈͉̟͉͑͂͊͐̑̈̚Ơ̴̤̮̹̯͕͙̼̺̼̦͖͔̯̩͚̐̏͗̍̓͒̀͘͠O̶̳̙̪̳̰̰͚̯͉̤̦̖̽͋̑̎́ͅÖ̵̢̧̨̻͈̙̟͚̣̪̱̬́̋!"

.

.

"(Reader), how would you feel enrolling to U.A. high school at a young age?"

.

.

"No matter what happens (Reader), we'll always be there for you...."

.

.

"I love you....."

After that night, a lot has happen to me and those who knew about it. I just hope things get better in the future.

#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#

-Three years ago-

"I told you guys to leave me alone!"

I was cornered by the same eight graders from before. They would always bug me to take them to see Dad. At first I trusted them, but I later found out they were just using me. "Come on pipsqueak, don't be like that! We said we were sorry!"

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it asshole!" I hit the guy in the soar spot and ran off. His buddies ran after me, but I beat them too it. I glitched to a empty classroom, that was when I felt my eyesight began to hurt. I hate it when this happens. I closed my eyes in pain as I held onto my head. "(Reader), are you alright!?" A familiar voice asked concerned. "Y-Yea, just a minor setback Mirio..." I let out a small groan. "I think it's best if you sit down." I felt ihs hand holding onto mine while the other was on my shoulder.  

He gently takes me out of the classroom and to a near by bench. After finding one, Mirio helped me sat down,"Why would you use your quirk anyways?"  "*sigh* The same idiots from before kept on bugging me and so I kicked one of them in the balls, then ran off. His buddies were this close to catching me, so I had no choice." 

Mirio let out a small laugh when he heard I kicked the guys balls. "We first off, you could've just let me or Tamaki know about this. Although I'm not so sure if Tamaki wouldn't be capable, but still." I let out a smile at Mirio's response. "See, now that's the smile I wanted to see." He remarked. A couple minutes go by, my glitching calmed down a bit. I slowly opened my eyes and the first thing I see is Mirio's dark blue bell eyes. 

I didn't realize he was still holding my hand. I felt my cheeks getting red, 

Bzzt Bzzt

I heard my phone buzzing, "U-uh, Mirio.... ya mind...." He notices, then quickly lets go of my hand. He scratches the backside of his head awkwardly. "Sorry, my bad (Reader)...."

I smiled for his dorky-ness, that's what I like about him so much. Yea, he's cute, but from positive demeanor to his extremely goofy yet energetic personality.  He, along with Tamaki of course, have been there for me. They never cared for one second that I was the daughter of Sir nighteye. They saw the real me, not the person other people think I am. I checked my phone, it was my mom calling. I answered.

"Hey Mom, what's up?"

"Sweetie,it turns out your father isn't able to pick you up today. So instead I'll be picking you up instead."

I figured Dad wouldn't pick me up, he never does. Only on rare occasion he picks me up, but I sometimes feel like I cause too much attention when he does show up.

"Yea, alright Mom. Also can we stop by a certain shop? I actually have a order ready to be picked up."

"Sure thing sweetie, we can also have some mother & daughter bonding time. How does that sound?"

"Yea sure, bye Mom."

I hanged up. "You gotta leave right now?" I nod head in response. "Yep, turns out Dad can't pick me up today. So mom is coming in five minutes or so." I responded. "Want me to accompany you?"

"Nope, besides I going to be busy tonight. I'll see you later Mirio! Say Hi to Tamaki for me!" I was about to leave, but Mirio stopped me. "Um hey, I want to tell you something?" I looked at him confused. "Yea, what is it?" He stood there quiet, instead of answering he shakes it off. "I-it's nothing, I'll see you later (Reader)." 

"Laters!" 

#mirio-togata-x-reader #my hero academia mirio #my hero academia #mirio togata x reader #mirio x reader #bnha x reader #xchubbyreader #chubby #chubby reader #chubby mc #miriotogata #bnha mirio #mirio #bnha fanfiction #bnha

[unbrckenwallsxinspo]

Trigger // SELF PARA

When: April 1st, after midnight

Where: Devon and Alyssa’s House

Summary: Kinsley Maxwell decides to play an April Fools prank on Devon, but it goes horribly wrong.

Trigger Warnings: Guns, mentions of death, murder, suicide, and drugs

Mentions: Devon, Ryan, Tavin, Alex, Kinsley 

@thewiildthings​

🖂 Incoming message! From: [email protected] To:[email protected] I found some old pics of Jade that I thought you might like to have.

A few years had passed since Jade's murder. Devon was now only a couple weeks away from his 25th birth, he was raising their daughter as a single parent, and still lived in the two story cabin home that his in-laws had helped them purchase.  He wished he could say that life was good, but deep down, there was still pain that just wouldn't disappear no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. No matter what he did, he still lived with the memory of watching Jade take her last breath.

It was after midnight in Nashville. He should've been asleep, but instead he was on his laptop, looking at the email that his mother-in-law had sent. Four pics of Jade that he'd never seen before. The first one being when she was only about four months pregnant with Alyssa and went to a late night diner with friends. The second being her with friends at a hotel about a month before she and Devon got married. The third was her wit friends atsome electronics store in a town they didn't recognize. The fourth was one that Devon had taken of her while on a lunch date after their wedding. So many good memories. No more to be made.

A year after she died, Devon tried to take his own life. Months of therapy followed until he finally stopped going. In his mind, he no longer needed the help. For a few years, that mindset worked. Until recently. Lately he'd begun to sink back into a depression, suicidal thoughts and all. Alyssa was the only reason he hadn't ended his life. She was his reason for living. Still, he was haunted by nightmares of Jade's death. He blamed himself for it happening. After all, he shouldn't have tried to escape, then the robber wouldn't have felt the need to fire his weapon. So it had to be Devon's fault, right?

"Daddy?"

He clicked out of his email and closed his laptop as soon as he saw the seven-year-old in the doorway, clinging to her teddy bear and rubbing her tired blue eyes. "Hey, love, can't sleep?"

Alyssa shook her head and climbed onto the bed, nuzzling her face against Devon's shoulder. She knew how to make him feel safer without even trying. Wrapping his arms around his little girl, he laid back against the pillows, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was 12:30 AM. He'd surely be awake until it was alright daylight out. That was often how his nights turned out.  Good thing he had tomorrow off from work.

"Daddy?"

"What's up, kiddo?" He ran his fingers through her hair, forcing himself to smile as he lovingly kissed her head. 

"Do you think I'll ever see my mommy again?"

The question was anything but simple. He believed they would see Jade in the afterlife, but he knew what Alyssa really meant, and he couldn't give her the answer she wanted. That broke his heart.

"Someday, baby." He gulped, rubbing her back. He was kind of relieved when she didn't push the issue farther. Normally she had a lot of questions about pretty much anything and everything, but he preferred that she not ask too many questions about her mom. He never had the right answers.

Their brief conversation was interrupted by something outside. Something that Devon didn't recognize. He supposed that it could have been the wind or a trashcan falling over or a bird or something, but it sounded like none of those things. So Devon's fight or flight response was quick to kick in. 

"Stay here. Try to get some sleep." He murmured as he got up from the bed. A few months after Jade died, he purchased a pistol without telling anyone. He kept it in a safe in his closet and only he knew the combination. Maybe right now he didn't need the gun, maybe there was a logical explanation, but that knocking...it didn't sound good, so of course his first reaction was self defense.

"Dad--"

"Stay here!" He whispered before he walked into the door, shutting the door behind him. He was about to head downstairs when he heard the familiar ring of his phone, which was coming from Alyssa's room. Huh. He must have left it there when he was putting her to bed earlier. 

He hurried into her room and grabbed the phone, answering with urgency. 

"Hello?!"

"Hello, friend. Remember me?"

"Who is this?!" Devon snapped as he pointed the gun in front of him, inching slowly out of the room and towards the stairs. 

"You mean you don't remember me? From the Flash Mart?"

Chills went down Devon's spine. The Flash Mart was where Jade was killed. But her killer was in prison! He couldn't possibly be calling. This had to be a joke. A sick, evil joke. 

"Come on, Devon. I met you and that lovely wife of yours for a few minutes. Lovely couple, you two were."

"Whoever you are, you better leave me alone or I'm calling the police!" He yelled before promptly hanging up. He choked back sobs as his shaking hand clutched the gun tighter, walking slowly down the stairs. To his horror, his front door was wide open, wind blowing leaves across the floor. And in the doorway was a tall, hooded figure wearing a hockey mask and holding what appeared to be a machete. A bloody machete.

BANG!

Devon didn't notice that the man had practically jumped back through the doorway in fear, as a bullet struck the floor and another at the wall. His mind was spinning, but he was focused enough to fight back against the perceived enemy. This was not happening. This was NOT happening.

"BRENDON, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE JASON VOORHEES OR SOMETHING, NOT MY SISTER'S KILLER, YOU MORONIC ASSHOLE! Tavin, seriously, get over here now. Devon's got a gun! Shit shit shit...No, I'm hiding behind the car!"

Devon paused at the sound of Kinsley's voice. He knew this was some kind of prank that she'd come up with, but his mind was racing and his muscles were so tense that somehow he still felt like there was danger. So the gun never left his hands and his finger never left the trigger as he searched the surrounding area for Kinsley's "friend."

"Devon, it was a prank!"

Devon no longer heard a word Kinsley was screaming at him. He was focused entirely on finding the asshole she'd used for said prank. The scary thing was that he wasn't even thinking of the potential consequences of his actions. He didn't think about the possibility that he might hurt or even kill someone. He was definitely not himself in that moment.

"W-where are you..." He murmured, panicked tears in his eyes. The flashbacks were playing over and over in his head, and he felt nothing except a desperate desire to protect himself and his daughter. In that moment, he wasn't at his home. He was back at that convenience store and he was fighting for his life.

He was so deeply trapped in his own mind that he didn't hear the slam of the car door a few feet away. He heard someone call his name and he cried out softly as he whipped around, pointing the gun in the direction of the voices. Then, all of a sudden, he felt a pair of arms grab him from behind, the gun falling from his hand.

"Ryan, did you just forget that he has PTSD?! You don't sneak up behind someone who--" Was that Alex or Tavin speaking? Devon had no idea. He was too busy crying and trying to get out of Ryan's grasp, panicked breaths escaping him. 

"Well, did you want him to shoot someone? Because I don't know about you, but I like liv-Thank you, Devon, for your knee making contact with Ryan Jr." Ryan groaned as he let Devon go, gripping his crotch as if that would relieve the pain Devon just inflicted upon him.

Devon was spiraling. Heavy breathing, sweat dripping down his face, barely holding back sobs as he combed his fingers through his hair. He was going insane, he was sure of it. Maybe he was even dying. At this point, he didn't mind that possibility too much. He just wanted the pain to stop. He didn't want to live in fear anymore and if dying would relieve that fear, then so be it.

"Okay, I got pot, coke, or molly. Take your pick." Dammit, Alex. No one gives a shit about your stupid drugs.

Suddenly, Devon's mood changed from fear and panick to pure anger. "Alex, I don't want your drugs. I want to take that pistol and put an end to me misery, that's what. I'm sure you can relate, right? Besides, we all know that you'd rather keep that shit for yourself."

Alex had a stricken expression on his face now and if Devon were in his right mind, he'd feel guilty. But he didn't. He didn't care if Alex got his feelings hurt. He had just as many problems as Devon did, if not more, and it was time someone called him out on it.

"Dude, that wasn't cool and you know it. Let's just...go inside, okay?" He felt Tavin's hands on his biceps and he relaxed only slightly, shaking with panic and anger as he was ushered into the house. He was close to breaking down again, but whatever. Tavin had seen him break before. In fact, he was the one person that Devon felt comfortable being vulnerable in front of. 

"I'm gonna use the restroom." He gulped, shaking off his friend's hands and hurrying into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He took the time to look at his reflection. Messy hair that he hadn't washed in days or really maintained at all, heavy bags under his eyes, pale skin that was currently sparkling with sweat, obvious weight loss...clearly life had been kicking him in the ass and he hadn't done a damn thing to make it any better. He didn't see the point.

Momentarily, he saw Jade standing behind him, then he saw a dark, hooded figure drag her away. He sobbed as he threw a punch at the mirror, watching the glass shatter. What followed was a few knocks on the door and Tavin calling his name. Devon figured if he stayed quiet long enough, maybe he'd be left alone. But of course not. Within a few minutes, the door somehow opened. Ryan had picked the lock. Lovely.

"Dude, what the--" Tavin grabbed his hand and said something to Ryan about getting the first aid kit from the kitchen. Then he felt Tavin's arms around him and he finally broke completely, tears soaking his friend's shirt.

#{self para; devon}

[seymoourr]

Doppelganger

part one- TWIN SWAP

Female!Reader x Bill Denbrough

_________________________________________

Warning: au were IT doesn't exist, swearing, angst, implied parental abuse, age gap relationships?, angst, violence, mob! Au.

Author's note: so this will be my first fix, so hope whoever will read this enjoys and disclaimer this was inspired by a fantastic group chat.

_______________________

Everyone who was someone in the world of mobsters knew of Y/n's parents. The public revered them as King and queen they had a snake-like grip on the game and known for the brutality of their kills and almost public executions of those who betrayed them and opposed them. The snake's nest was the other name for y/n's mob because your parents had a code; like snakes, we will wait, we will attack. Entailing your parents didn't ever do anything outside of anything unless it was in self-defence or proving a point. Letting lesser mobs squabble for meaningless power while they lounged back sipping blood coloured wine from diamond-encrusted glasses.

She saw it all and was taught it all to seize control when the day comes that her parents died. While y/n had a twin sister, but she showed less potential than y/n did, so she was left to live as an average child who was left unaware of what her parents did to keep their wealth. Y/n didn't mind the treatment because she saw it as keeping her beloved twin safe and never loved her any less.

Spending her time studying other mobs and point out the 'Losers Club.' She found the name underwhelming name, but her parents drilled it in that this mob were dangerous and not to underestimate them. 'My dear girl think of them as newly-born snakes yes they may be small and look easy to put down, but my sweet girl one wrong move and they will kill you.' Nodding her head, y/n went to sleep fearing them even though she was at age twenty-two, the more y/n learn about them, the more fear filled her mind, and that was something y/n loathed feeling.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Her sister went missing, and she felt lost being one of three people that y/n felt like she could genuinely confide in. She was her best friend fear turned into terror when y/n found out that her sister was with the Loser Club and with the brawl between going on between the two mobs her mind spiralled thinking of all the terrible things the Loser's Club might do to her.

From mild torture to maybe them forcing themselves upon her, there was no line to be drawn as her mind taunted her with all extremes of what could be happening to her. She wondered why she had not been taken instead of her lovely sunshine because no one would miss a star because they had a whole galaxy. She thought her sister was too innocent for what her mind taunted her with.

Thinking about y/n noticed her parents were not back from their trip to France and it had been a couple of months. Usually, they would tell the woman if they were stating longer.

≈≈≈≈

Fury clung to every fibre of y/n's being as news broke that her sister was staying with the Loser's Club willingly. Leading y/n to the conclusion that those two years she spent fearing what her twin could be suffering through were pointless. Y/n had also found out that her sister was staying and sleeping with the person responsible for their parent’s death.

It broke the mob to see their new leader this way — especially her boyfriend and first love and her somewhat friend Henry Bowers well he was no where near her friend but someone who was there so she could numb the loneliness that got worse when her boyfriend turned up dead at the doorstep a week after he decided to be a hero and try and take down the one and only Stanley Uris who for sad irony killed him with a bullet through the head and three weeks after that Henry's grave was filled.

After their death y/n had now where left to run from the loneliness so she decided to get angry and with that came an urge for revenge unlike anything of the sort y/n had felt before. It was also than that the woman decided get back at the loser’s for taking everything from her and she knew that victory was in her hands because she didn’t have anything to lose and she didn’t fear death because if she did die maybe y/n could see her parents and loved ones again.

≈≈≈≈

Eyeing the slash across her neck from a result of the first pretended y/n had pretended to be her sister. Stanley Uris had done it leaving her behind in an ally way to chock to death on her own blood and she would have if it wasn’t for a man teetering on the edge of homelessness. The woman rewarded his kindness by giving his daughter a place in her mob and given him enough money to last him and the entire family of his tenth descendant their whole life time. Feeling the bumps of scarred skin as a hand slowly travelled over wound. 

Hearing the pattering of shoes; Y/n new it was her sister turning around to face her once beloved sister with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Long time no see dove, that is what Stan calls you right?" her sister did nothing which made the situation more amusing for y/n.

"Y/N I-I thought that S-stan, That he, Stan told me that he."

"Oh spit it out Avery you thought he killed me didn't you." 

"oh, baby girl, I did not mean to scare you." Y/n smirked circling her sister laying a finger on her shoulder. Avery shivered at the feeling, feeling y/n push back a lock of hair it made the younger twin feel like she was a prey and that y/n was blood thirsty lion. Avery’s clothing needed improvement was a note that y/n made as she judged her sister’s outfit. Avery was dressed in white and silk the only item of clothing y/n would willingly wear from the outfit would be the white leather jacket, it was so clear to the woman that the loser’s had an innocence kink.

Avery watched her sister judge her. But she also took in her appearance her, she seemed darker not only in clothing but also in her  aura and y/n even felt colder and her eyes showed that her eyes were so dark, cold and sparkling with a sinister mischief. It made Avery feel like she was staring at a stranger and not her twin. Some she was once so close that it caused her heart to clench; she felt incredibly guilty for associating with the people mainly responsible for the person  standing in front of her now but like her sister, Avery knew that she has dug her grave.

"Bug you don't have to do this." Avery begged as a man and woman grabbed her arms, making her movements more frantic as she tried to remove their grip on her. 

"do.. what exactly doll Richie calls you that right, nonetheless what do you think I am going to do for all you know I could be taking you forcefully to a five-star restaurant. Where we can chat and catch up on how for three whole years I went out of my mind thinking you kidnapped by these people only to find out that you were but then choose you, kidnappers, over your family our parents."

"they were monsters y/n." Avery yelled finally shaking off the grip the two mob members had on her and walked towards y/n. Looking at her twin now Avery never wanted this wedge between herself and y/n. It made her feel like you were miles away but Avery was in front of her desperately wanting to comfort y/n like she should have the minute Avery found out about the death of their parents, Chad and surprisingly Henry. Although by that time Stan had announced that y/n was dead and now she hated herself more for never bothering to at least find her twin’s grave or have a funeral for her.

"monsters, they cared for you, loved you and sheltered you all to keep you safe and out of harm's way, and this is how you repay them by siding and fucking their killers," the woman yelled back, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Y/n froze when she was suddenly hugged only then realising that it had been a long time since she had felt the comforting warmth of a hug it was so tender and soft that it almost made y/n melt into her sister and seek comfort in her twin’s arms for every time that opportunity was taken from her.

"I'm so sorry Bug, for not being there but whatever you are planning to do please don't it yes you may have wit and cunning but the Loser's are smart and will find out and I don’t want you to actually die." she pleaded into the curve of y/n’s neck.

Sucking in a breath to rein in her feelings, y/n whispered. "I am not," The next thing your sister heard was a loud thud before everything went blurry then black. Pushing her into the arms of  ferocity a female mob member and swapping clothes. Taking her phone and looking through the images as ferocity made y/n look more like her twin from lightning your hair to doing her make up. 

Stopping her mindless scrolling when Avery’s phone started ringing staring at it for a moment than answering the phone call and all ready knowing who it is by the dubbing of the id caller ‘Stanny.’ Looking up at woman who was doing her hair and silently telling her to pause her movements. 

"Not that I mind but what’s with the call?" y/n asked mimicking her sister’s voice

"Just wondering where you have been for a while did you forget that we are celebrating tonight." Stan voiced

 "oh darn it  must have slipped my mind and also what are we celebrating again god I am so sorry Stanny, for forgetting it was probably something important wasn’t it?” Y/n said pitifully 

"dove don’t apologise, you have been through so you are allowed to forget." ‘oh Stan you have no idea’ she thought stared at Avery’s unmoving body before tuning back into the conversation. "We are celebrating the fall of your horrific family and their mob."

Swallowing back the anger choosing to clench her free hand so it made a fist . "I will be there soon. I am at the hair salons getting my hair darkened."

There was a pause, "why are you getting your hair darkened?"

"Well I only lightened hair because I couldn't stand looking like my psychotic sister, but since she is dead, I want to change my hair back to the original colour." she paused "is that not okay?"

Almost frantically Stan answered, "no, no it's fine really it is I was just wondering. Love you, my dove." the woman waited for the peep singling that the call ended, she stood to looked at herself in the full-length mirror. 

"Hi, I'm Avery l/n." Y/n mimicked

An amused huff left lips that smirked as y/n walked away from the mirror and passing her mob and headed towards her sister's car.

#it imagines angst #richie tozier #bill denbrough angst #loser's club #adult losers #adult bill denbrough #adult richie #bill denbrough imagines #losers club imagines #doppelganger #it 2019 imagine #adult losers club

[the-friendly-anonymous]

Cuts & Bruises

Chapter 1: Red, Bandages, and Pills

Okay so brief little announcement, hi, yes, I’m the author behind the Septic Ego fic Cuts & Bruises! It’s about time I upload it here, so here we go!

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Alcohol Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Self Harm, Blood, Death

Summary of Cuts & Bruises: Chase, struggling with his alcoholism and depression, tries to find a new way to get rid of the pain. Little does he know that this minor change will cause the downfall of the Septic Egos.

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

Chase trudged back into his rental apartment and flopped down onto a barstool along his kitchen, rubbing his eyes. His filming day for his next trick shot video didn’t go as planned, and by the time he went to go edit it he could already tell it was trash.

Why was his stuff already becoming so pathetic? His first video was a success: the fans loved his work! It shouldn’t be too hard to make something new, everyone already loved him for his personality alone.

But now everything just didn’t seem right. Nothing was better, he wasn’t getting better, anything wasn’t getting better. He wasn’t getting any income to keep his rental afloat, Stacy was getting stricter on letting him see the kids, and his work was getting more terrible by the minute.

Depressed enough with himself by this point, he got off the stool and made his way to his fridge. He swung it open with a lot of force and found himself face to face with a lot of beer bottles, a good majority unopened. He quickly grabbed two with one hand, grabbing by the throat of the bottles, and swung himself back over to the bar as the fridge closed.

As he sat down he quickly opened up the one and starting chugging it down, not going to savor the bitterness of the alcoholic drink. He just needed to drink the pain away, that’s all he needed to do. First he found himself completing the first bottle, then shortly the next. Then three more. Then five more. He laughed at his tipsy state. A couple more. He found himself giggling like a crazy person. Was he going crazy? No, right? But he could still feel that pain in the back of his head. More booze wasn’t going to stop this.

Slowly and clumsily he walked over to a drawer and pulled it open. There he found a collection of silverware he used, but after a couple a seconds he found it. He giggled and pulled out a larger knife, and trudged himself to the bathroom.

He stood overtop his modern-looking sink, a drunken and crazed smile on his face, a glazed look in his eyes, hunched over looking at the knife in his right fist. He then looked up into the mirror plastered onto the wall, and slowly lifting his fist up he let the cuts well over his left arm. First one, then two. Then two more. Then four more. He lost count. Blood dripped into the sink, onto the floor. Then the other arm. Over, and over, and over again. He stared at his work and laughed, the pain dying. He looked back up to himself in the mirror and swore his eyes turned green. Just drunken hallucinations he told himself. He swung his arms around, satisfied, and heard a bottle hit the floor. He turned back around and just saw it was his depression pills, to which he just shrugged. On the floor now, useless, spilled all over just like his thoughts. With a high pitched giggle, he walked out.

He then found himself collapsing onto his bed, his open cuts undressed.

~~~

Chase woke up to the sound of an alarm clock blaring very rudely in his ear. Did people still use alarm clocks anymore? He shook the thought away and sat up right, and the first sight he saw was his arms. He cursed silently, wondering why he did this to himself. Then he did the same, wincing at his hangover causing his headache.

Slowly rising out of bed, he picked up his signature cap that had fallen onto the floor and made his way to his closet. He quickly changed his shirt into a black graphic design shirt with small stars, and then staring at his arms he decided to throw on a hoodie as well. It was a royal blue J!NX Game Over zip hoodie, the same company that his hat came from. The company gave it to him after his video came out, thanking him for the promotion of their clothing line. He disposed of his original very dark gray shirt into a corner, and quickly changed his black-ripped pants into another fresh set from his drawer, except this one had some slight bleach marks due to a laundry incident.

Happy with his hidden up look, he decided to finally dress up the wounds on his arms. He made his way to the bathroom and rolled his sleeves up, then found some rolled up bandages and went to work. With quick pace, he was finished and quickly rolled the sleeves back down. He then heard his doorbell ring.

“Coming!” shouted Chase, and quickly dashed for the door before passing the bar. He cursed silently and quickly grabbed all the bottles and stuffed them back into the fridge, and then opened the door. Standing there was the good doctor himself.

“Henrik!” Chase exclaimed, then winced as the light burned his eyes. “Oh geez, sorry. What are you doing here?”

Henrik cocked his head in confusion. “I’ve come to pick you up. Remember? Vee planned to hang out vit zee others today.” He straightens his lab coat and adjusts his turtleneck, something he started wearing after the incident with Anti. “I figured it might be best if you vere drinking last night.” He adds with a quick sniff. “Seems I vas right.”

“Oh, right, duh, sorry! Let’s get going then, right?” Chase says in a chipper tone.

Henrik nods and pats his friend’s back as they walk towards the good doctor’s car. “Yes, vee shall.” Once they’re in the car, Henrik mentions, “Nice hoodie by zee vay. It suits you vell.”

Chase nods in agreement and laughs a bit as the car takes off. “You think so? I might try wearing it in some future videos.” But on the inside he’s kicking himself over and over again, hiding his pain and scars like a coward. “By the way, I might need some more an-“ he cuts himself off. “Depression pills.” He decides to say instead, not trying to mention the cursed “A” word. “I can’t seem to find them anywhere.” He lies, not willing to admit he had spilled them all over the floor in a drunken haze.

Henrik makes a turn and briefly glances over at his friend in the passenger seat. “Really?” He tuts. Chase shrugs, to which the German sighs and pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Very vell.” He smiles instead. “How are Stacy and zee kids?”

Chase sighs and lets his head hit the back of the seat. He sinks down and rubs his eyes again. “It’s alright, I guess. The kids seems to be doing fine. Grey is starting fourth grade soon which is exciting, and apparently he’s taken up basketball lessons. Sammy will soon be going into first, and all she talks about is apparently me.” Chase finds himself smiling. “Stacy isn’t proud of that obviously. She’s gotten stricter on letting me see them, I don’t know why.”

“Hmm.” Henrik thinks aloud as he pulls to a stop. “Zhat is very strange.” He then shrugs. “As long as zee kids are happy, I guess.” The light turns green and he starts again.

Chase nods. “Yeah, I guess so.” He then looks over to the doctor and sits back up. “How about you? How’s your wife and daughter?”

Henrik smiles, trying his best not to laugh, another side effect of his possession encounter. “Ahh, zhey are doing just fine. Maria is now dedicating her full time into looking after Sally, but zhat’s what she says. Turns out she ended up cutting herself on a rock when she was climbing some near our house.” Chase flinches at the word “cutting,” but he does his best to stifle it as just a quick shudder. “Scared the sheisse out of me. Had to patch her back up, thankfully it vasn’t deep.”

“Thankfully that was nothing serious!” Chase remarks with a fake smile. “It would be a shame if little Sal got terribly hurt.” Again Chase was kicking himself mentally. He had no right to say something like that when he was guilty of it. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of the hoodie and quietly huffs to himself. “So where are we going again?” Chase asks.

Henrik shakes his head and stops the car, parking it. “Is your hangover zhat bad?” He pulls out some Gatorade and some cereal bars. “As bad as it is, electrolytes help. Also sweets. Drink up quickly, ve’re going bowling.” He steps out of the car after handing him the items and slams it shut. Chase’s head rings, and he swears he can hear laughter outside the car. He self consciously itches at the bandages, then realizes what he’s doing and stops. Following Henrik’s advice he chomps down on the bars and swings down some of the sports drink. He stuffs whatever he doesn’t finish in the pockets of his hoodie and realizes the time: two o’clock. Had he slept that long?

~~~

“STRIKE AGAIN BABY!” Jackie announces with a fist pump, and the rest of the Egos groan, except Jamie, who just throws his head back and arms up in exaggeration. “Guess who’s gonna get that bet money after all!!!” He points towards the others as the pins behind him are automatically reset. He plops into the seat next to Marvin, wearing some ripped jeans and a red Spider-Man hoodie, his casual wear. Marvin ruffles the hero-in-disguise’s hair as he sits down, trying to shut him up.

“Alright alright we get it JB, sheesh.” Marvin retorts, and stands to go next. He takes a quick glance at the scoreboard, noticing they’re on the seventh round. Jackie had 67 points, Marvin with 53, Jamie with 46, Henrik with 59, and Chase with 51. Marvin picks up a shiny blue ball, and goes to wind up his arm. It was weird not seeing him with his cape and cat mask in public, just his regular blue dress shirt and black pants, but it’s not like they wanted to show off themselves today. Today they were just brothers, in a way, hanging out and having fun.

Chase was glad to be here with the others, as his mood was already lifted. He was drinking water to help his hangover even more, and found it was dulling really quickly. He just needed some more food in him. “I’ll be right back guys, gonna go grab some food.” Chase says, and with a tip of his hat stands up and goes to find a vending machine.

Thankfully he finds one really quickly, filled to the brim with candy and chips. He eyes a particularly big M&M’s bag, and decides that. “I need sugar after all, sweets help according to zee great doctah.” Chase says to himself, mocking the German’s accent at the last part. As he pays and watches the candy drop down, he sees a brief reflection of himself and yelps in fright. He sees himself, but his eyes flashed green and he smiled wickedly at an almost inhuman rate before going to normal, almost like a… His train of thought is interrupted when the bag of candy hits the bottom, and he snatches it up fast and walks away, spooked.

He sits down in his seat which was between the doctor and the mute man, but he looks up to see that Henrik is up, Marvin now up to 62 and Jamie up to 53. He opens up the M&M’s and pops a few into his mouth, then turns the bag to Jamie. “You want some JJ?” Chase asks politely. Jamie shakes his head, but tips his own hat in thanks. “Alrighty, whatever ya say mustache!” Chase teases, to which JJ mimes a laugh following with wiggling his mustache.

“FICK!” Henrik swears as he stomps the ground with a huff. Everyone looks up to the board to see he rolled a gutter, which makes Marvin chuckle. Henrik’s score, 61. “Zis game is RIGGED!” He shouts as he drops down into his seat. He fiddles with his turtleneck and pats Chase’s arm. “Your turn Brody.”

“Oh you shush I’m in last Schneep!” Chase laughs at Henrik’s huffiness. He picks up the bowling ball, a really shiny green one, and pauses when he looks at it. He can see his reflection again, and what he sees makes his blood go cold.

It’s him again, but his eyes are pitch black, red tears flowing down his cheeks, blood. He’s grinning with an unnatural happiness, his teeth sharp and unusually white. His reflection points at him, then with the same finger drags it along his neck, opening the signature cut.

Chase finally comes to his senses and screams, dropping the ball onto the ground. His feet quickly dodge it and it drops straight into the wooden paneling, making a noticeable dent. The others rush to him, worried.

“Chase?”

“Vhat’s vrong?!”

“Come on buddy, speak to us!”

Jamie quickly signs, asking if he’s okay.

All of his friends’ voices swirl in his head, and he feels his body start to shake. He grips his hand above his heart and starts to breathe heavily. He can’t take it: they’re too close, voices are too loud, everyone is watching. Eyes. Watching. All. Are. Watching.

Henrik grabs Chase’s shoulders and shakes him, and when their eyes meet Chase can swear the room is swirling. “Henrik, I need to leave.” Is all Chase can say, before his body starts to shake even more violently. He wants to expose his cuts and itch them open, they’re burning so badly. Eyes are staring into his soul. The floor is sinking him in, he can’t think, he can’t move, he can’t breathe.

Henrik quickly nods and grabs his hand and drags him back to his car with a quick wave of goodbyes to the others and sorry’s. They both get in and with a quick start up they drive off back to Chase’s apartment. Chase’s panic attack is already starting to calm down. He’s decided to not look at any of the other mirrors or possible reflectors and focus on his breathing. He’s still shaking and his arms feel like they’re on fire. However, Henrik doesn’t seem mad at all, and with a quick press of a button he plays some relaxing music. “Made zhis after mein incident.” Chase let’s the sounds fill his ears and sinks down, trying to relax. He closes his eyes for the rest of the trip and once they’re back, Henrik lightly taps his shoulder. Chase quickly gets out of the car before quickly hugging his friend and thanking him.

His hand fiddles with the door knob but once he’s inside he locks the door and runs back into the bathroom. He takes off his hoodie and looks back at the mirror, and his image keeps flickering between himself and “himself.”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Chase screams, and then his body shudders and lets out a high pitched giggle. His voice doesn’t come out the same.

“Isn’t it obvious, our f̶av̵͏̶o҉̨r͘i͘͡t̷̕͢e̸̛ ̵b̵̛ó͢y̛̕?! You led yourself to your own D̢́E̸̴̢̢̨M͘͜͏I̵̴͟͢͞Ş͝͡E̴̡.” His voice is filled with static and changes in pitch. His arms rise up, and his eyes see the bandages.

“Such a shame I can’t play the d̨҉ép̴͝r̶͝͝e̸s͡séd̶̡ any longer… But you’ve given my position away, and that needs to be F͏Ì̕͢X̕͜͜͞͡E҉̶̨͡D̨̨́͢.”

Then Chase feels his body fully taken over, and Anti laughs as he takes full control. He rips the bandages off of his arms, and quickly grabs the knife that was left there the previous night, stained red with dried blood. He then goes hacking away, red draining from his skin. His body stumbles around, life draining. Everything, draining. He keeps laughing, and keeps cutting away at other locations at his skin. And to finish it off, he pulls off his signature sign, and slices it deep across his neck.

Chase’s body dies and falls to the ground, among the red, bandages, and pills.

#tefawrites #cuts & bruises #c&b #jacksepticegos #chase brody #dr schneepelstien #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #jameson jackson #tw blood #tw alcohol #tw death #tw self harm #tw depression #tw suicidal thoughts

[ghostbustermelanieking]

Prompt for your IVF headcanon - any interest in expanding on #3 (Christmas with the Scullys)? I keep imagining M&S cuddled up on the couch at night and exchanging looks when Matthew comes over to S for a hug and M trying not to be too obvious that he can't keep his hands of S's tummy.

sure, what the hell. the original story is here. this is for @2moms-0fucks, who i promised a full story and never came through for. i’m sorry i never finished that, but here’s something else??

---

1. They’re both nervous as hell. Scully in no way regrets asking him to go along, but it’s undeniably an awkward situation, showing up at the airport with her partner in tow, to the complete surprise of her mother. She blinks at the both of them, and Scully rushes to explain that Mulder was going to be alone for Christmas again (she knows they both remember the last Christmas he nearly spent alone well), so she invited him along. (Which isn’t a lie; just an omission.) The awkwardness is palpable in the moment, and Scully excuses herself to call ahead to California to warn Bill (since she knows that will be a million times more awkward without warning). But when she gets back, she finds Maggie and Mulder engaged in polite conversation, probably spurred on by the fact that he’s been in an incredibly good mood since some time this morning. He keeps catching her eyes over Maggie’s shoulder and grinning dopily. Scully smiles back.

On the plane, he grabs her hand and she can’t bring herself to pull away. Maggie doesn’t comment.

2. Scully forgets what is happening half the time. The fact that she’s pregnant, the fact that Mulder is at her brother’s with her. Every time she remembers, she can’t quite believe it. The last time she was here, she had to face the fact that she wasn’t going to have children, the death of her daughter. And now… now.

(She feels guilty about it, just a little, when she catches Melissa’s baby face in an old photo and thinks of her daughter. A heart-stopping moment. Mulder drives her to visit Emily’s grave and waits patiently in the car, wraps her hand in his comfortingly when she returns with red eyes. “Are you okay?” he says gently, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

She nods, sniffling a little and smiling wobbily at him. “It doesn’t stop hurting,” she says, because it doesn’t. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop regretting not being able to save her. But... Emily didn’t know me. I never got the chance to be her mother. But now...”

This new baby will never be a replacement. Never. But it feels like a second chance. A first chance, to get it right this time. A baby who she can protect, a baby that is wholly and completely hers. Theirs. She is having a baby with her best friend.

Her voice breaks off, her hand over her stomach. Mulder’s eyes are full of a quiet understanding. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. Scully squeezes his hand gratefully. “Thank you,” she whispers, and means for so much more than this moment. “Thank you, Mulder.”)

3. Scully would’ve thought that being in a situation where they can’t talk about the baby for a few days would be an excellent way to mentally work things out, but it’s almost impossible not to, staying in a house with a toddler. Matthew is almost two now, and she’s barely seen him in the past couple years, so she is trying to enjoy the chance to spend time with her nephew. (After all of the family members she’s become distant from, she wants to hold onto the family she has left.) He’s sweet and chubby and sticky-fingered, and he seems fascinated with her and Mulder both. “He’s not shy at all,” Tara says affectionately, bouncing Matthew on her hip before passing him to Scully. “Yes, you remember your Aunt Dana, don’t you, Matty?” she coos, and Scully smiles. 

She holds Matthew on her lap while he watches his cartoons, and Mulder sits beside them, pats her knee absently with one hand, tickles Matthew’s bare foot until he giggles, and Scully wants to cry. She bounces Matthew up and down on her knee absently, reads him a story at her mother’s request, and sees Mulder looking at her with a tremendous amount of affection in his eyes. When Maggie scoops up Matthew and takes him upstairs for his bath, he scoots closer on the couch until their legs bump, reaches out with tentative fingers to touch her stomach. 

Scully smiles, happy tears welling in her eyes. “Mulder,” she says, and he yanks his hand away as if he was burned. She catches his hand before he takes it too far, places it back against her stomach. 

He smiles back warily, sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says gingerly. 

She shakes her head, presses her hand over his. “Don’t be sorry,” she says. She can’t stop thinking about how this will be them, in a year. Their baby. And she doesn’t know if they’ll be doing it together, but she truly hopes they will be. “Don’t you dare be sorry,” she says, and leans in to kiss him. The first time she will have kissed him since that morning they woke up, tangled up together in her comforter.

“Hey, Danes?” Bill calls, and they can hear his footsteps approaching. Mulder leaps back again, in an almost teenagery way: prom dates caught after curfew. Scully blushes madly and pretends she isn’t, pretends she isn’t pregnant and hiding that fact from her family. Bill sticks his head in. “You guys want salad?” he asks, nodding at Mulder in an almost courteous way. (They’ve actually kind of gotten along during this visit. Scully wants to joke that it is a Christmas miracle.)

Scully nods. “Yeah, sounds good, thanks,” Mulder says in a rush. 

Bill shoots them a suspicious look, but nods. He turns away and walks back down the hall. As soon as he’s gone, Mulder reaches for her stomach again, and Scully wants to giggle.

4. She knows that, as far as her family knows, she and Mulder are just partners; she knows that their Catholic ideals would want Mulder to stay down on the couch even if they did know. She knows that they have spent more time in separate beds than together. But she can’t shake it, the urge not to be alone. It’s too cold, even in California. It’s too cold for California. She can’t sleep.

She gives up on the second night, climbs out of bed and retrieves the Oxford sweatshirt she stole from Mulder’s suitcase. She slips it over her head before padding downstairs quietly. This may only be a replication of her childhood home, but it’s enough; she knows how to sneak downstairs without getting caught.

The Christmas tree is unplugged, dark, and she can see Mulder on his side on the couch bed. She isn’t sure that he’s even awake until she draws close to the edge of the cot, and Mulder immediately turns over. “Scully, hey,” he says, his voice somewhere between sweet and worried. “Are you okay? Is it morning sickness?”

Scully chuckles quietly, sitting down on the bed gingerly, one leg folded under her. “Oh, no, Mulder. That’s still a few weeks away, fortunately.”

“Oh.” He extracts an arm out from under the blanket and reaches up to cup her cheek. “What’s up?”

“Oh...” She is suddenly embarrassed, unsure of what the hell to do now; they haven’t officially decided whether or not he’s going to be a part of the baby’s life yet (although she’d thought that night in her apartment when they found out was a good indicator); a week ago, they were just partners, for fuck’s sake. She turns her face into his palm a little. “I dunno,” she says quietly. “I guess I just got...”

“Cold?” Mulder tugs the sleeve of her sweatshirt between two fingers. 

She nods gratefully. “Cold.”

He brushes his knuckle over her abdomen slowly, gently. “Is the baby cold?” he whispers in the voice she’s only ever heard him use with her nephew or her daughter or the scared children on cases.

Scully grins. “I don’t know, Mulder. The baby might be cold.”

He traces a circle slowly over her stomach, bumps his cheek against her hip. “C’mere, Scully,” he says, and she comes. She rolls over and nestles against him, back to chest, and he wraps his arms around her, presses sloppy kisses to the side of her neck. She shivers, squirming a little, brushing her cold feet over his legs, laces her fingers with his. 

“I’m... I’m so glad we did this, Scully,” Mulder says in a choked voice. He kisses the nape of her neck, the curve of her shoulder. “I know how... I knew how important it was to you. But I had no idea how much I wanted it until...” 

“I know,” she says in a breathy voice. Blinks tears from her eyes as she stares at the unlit Christmas tree. She thinks of the baby, their baby. “God, I know.”

5. Christmas morning is bright, sun streaming through the window. Matthew is the star of the show, overjoyed at the influx of presents. He’s sitting on the floor with Maggie and Scully, throwing crumpled-up wrapping paper. Scully is laughing, and Mulder can’t help but think that it’s the most carefree he’s seen her with her family. He catches her eye over the top of his coffee mug, and she smiles her thousand-watt smile, and he melts a little. He still can’t believe that he’s here, that he’s kissed Scully and she’s having a baby and he’s going to be a father. That everything is seeming to work out, for once. Everything’s working out okay.

Christmas dinner goes down without any hitches. Mulder tries to goad her into a thumb war under the table, and Scully keeps a remarkably straight face as she kicks his ass in the midst of a story from Tara about Matthew. Maggie talks to him the most out of anyone at the table; he’s starting to think that she knows that they’re together. He thinks it’s likely a good sign that she still wants to make conversation with him over the dinner table.,

Everyone goes to bed early--Tara and Maggie are yawning, and Bill is rubbing his eyes, and Matty has fallen asleep in Scully’s lap. Scully passes the baby to Bill, says, “Get some rest, big brother. I’ll lock up.”

“Thanks, Dana,” he says, kissing her cheek. He locks eyes briefly with Mulder, cupping the back of his kid’s head with one hand. “I’m glad you could come,” he says to Scully--but Mulder gets the sense that said eye lock is a sign of acceptance, if nothing else. 

Scully hugs her mother and sister-in-law goodnight, and they go upstairs. And then Mulder and Scully are alone. They sit together on the couch, listening to the bustling sound upstairs. Scully slips closer, underneath the hook of his arm, her cheek on his shoulder. He kisses the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, Scully,” he says softly. ’

“Merry Christmas.” He can hear the smile in her voice. She rubs her cheek against his chest softly. “I’ve been thinking about it, Mulder,” she says softly, and he covers her stomach with his hand. There’s something in her voice like amusement, like joy; after everything that’s happened, he can’t believe they’re here. “I’ve been thinking about all the stuff you said to me a few months ago,” says Scully. “In your apartment hallway.”

“Oh,” Mulder says with a throaty, self-deprecating laugh. “All that corny stuff, huh.”

She swats at his chest. “It was sweet, Mulder.”

“It was cheesy,” he says. “But I meant every word of it.”

“Mmm.” She taps her head against his chin, almost questioningly. “Every word?”

“Every word.” He nods. “You’re my constant, Scully, you always have been. My touchstone.”

She ducks her head as if embarrassed, but speaks smugly to his chest: “Your one in five billion?”

“I think that one was a couple of years ago,” he says bemusedly, tapping her on the shoulder, and she giggles a little, tips her head back and kisses him. 

Every time she kisses him feels brand new. Knocks him off his feet. He loves her so much.

He bumps his forehead against hers, mumbles, “Two,” against her mouth.

“What?”

“Two,” he says, and he rubs a slow circle on her stomach. “Two in five billion, now. You two.”

Scully looks up at him in weepy surprise, her eyes glittering with the Christmas lights; she sniffles a little, kisses the side of his jaw before burying her head against his shoulder. “You were right, Mulder,” she says, “about that stuff being corny,” and he laughs, wraps his arms tighter around her.

#this got overlong lmao idk what this is #xf fanfic #i wrote this

[imaredshirt]

Attack of the Space Slugs

They may be surrounded, but Coco's not about to let the Space Slugs steal her Papá away.

(In which a young Rivera stays up past her bedtime, and imaginations run wild.)

Written for the Coco Locos Fluff-Off contest.

This didn't end up being as fluffy as I'd hoped. Also I wrote it in a couple of hours, and it hasn't been edited at all, so I apologize for all of it.

Modern AU. Coco's about 7 here.

Prompt used was "You did what!?"

Héctor couldn’t sleep.

That nervous excitement he always experienced before leaving on trips was keeping him up. He could hardly stay still under the covers, but he tried so Imelda wouldn’t be bothered. All he wanted to do was get up and pace around, maybe take the guitar outside to play a bit, but he needed sleep. If he didn’t sleep tonight, he’d have to sleep on the ride to the city, and he did not look forward to trying to sleep in Ernesto’s ’07 sedan. The thing was louder than a dying tractor.

But that wasn’t all, he thought, turning in bed. There was more on his mind that kept him from sleeping.

Over an hour ago he and Imelda had tucked Coco into bed, and after accepting a kiss goodnight on her brow from Héctor, Coco had gripped his hand and said in a voice more serious than any child should ever know, “I will never forget you, Papá, no matter how long you’re gone. OK?”

He’d felt his heart drop through the floor at that.

He’d been gone on trips with Ernesto before, but the longest of those trips had lasted a week, and his daughter knew this upcoming trip was going to be much longer.

Héctor would be gone for 45 days. 45 days touring the country, side by side with Ernesto, singing for cheering crowds and judgmental producers and longtime Youtube fans. 45 days away from Santa Cecilia and his family. 45 days returning to cold hotel rooms and curling up alone in narrow beds to sleep while Ernesto snored away in an adjacent bed.

He’d promised Coco they would Skype every night before bed and almost every morning before she went off to school, and she had seemed excited at that. But Héctor couldn’t get over the fact that seeing his wife and child’s faces on the small screen of his phone or busted laptop was a far cry from being able to be near enough to hug.

It was going to be tough. They’d planned the trip for weeks, but it didn’t lessen the blow of being away for so long.

Héctor shut his eyes and tried to ignore the thoughts that had bugged him for days. But almost immediately he sat up, pushed the blanket off his legs, and switched on his bedside lamp.

The rest of the room was dark, but with the soft light he could see his suitcase and duffle bag sitting by the door. His guitar case was propped up by the dresser he shared with his wife.

If he couldn’t sleep, the least he could do was triple-check he’d packed everything.

Glancing at Imelda, who was laying on her side and facing away from him, Héctor began to carefully move off the bed. He and Imelda and begun the night hugging, whispering to each other of the plans for the next day, but some time during that sleepless hour, she had turned away from him.

When his foot touched the floor, Imelda shifted until she was facing him, seemingly as wide awake as he was.

“Still can’t sleep, Héctor?”

“You’ve been awake this whole time?” Héctor asked, incredulous as he sat back against the headboard instead of leaving the bed.

“Your thoughts are so loud, I can practically hear them,” Imelda said. She sat up next to him and sighed when he took her hand to trace each finger with a feather light touch. “You’re still thinking about Coco.”

“She sounded so sad, Imelda,” Héctor said without meeting her eyes.

“And you know why,” Imelda said. “You’re going to be gone for over a month. How do you expect her to react?”

He knew his trip was going to leave Coco sad until he returned, but what was he supposed to do? He and Imelda had shared this same conversation many times before. It always left him feeling guilty. He couldn’t cancel the trip, not now.

Grimacing, Héctor considered suggesting they watch Y Tu Mamá Tabien until they fell asleep—anything other than continue the conversation—but at that moment their door opened, and Coco marched through.

Héctor and Imelda both glanced over and stared. They were speechless.

Sometime during the night, their daughter had donned her pink winter coat, the boots with sunflowers that her tíos had bought for her birthday, Imelda’s severe looking sunglasses, and the violet helmet she used when she rode her bike with Héctor around their home. Her Princess Elena calculator was taped to the coat pocket.

For a moment all three of them stared silently at each other. Then Coco adjusted the sunglasses, strode forward, grabbed the corner of the quilt Imelda had folded at the foot of the bed, and began to gather it into her arms.

“Coco?” Imelda asked, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“I need this,” Coco said with a grunt, and with a final tug, the whole quilt fell into her arms.

“Is it cold in your room?” Héctor asked.

“No,” Coco said. “I need to reinforce my Space Slug Resistant shelter!”

Héctor and Imelda glanced at each other, and Héctor knew Imelda had come to the same realization. Three nights ago, Oscar and Felipe had stayed with Coco while her parents left for a night out. When they returned, they found the three younger Riveras fast asleep in the living room under a meticulously built pillow fort, and the old 80s B movie “Captain Rodriguez and the Attack of the Space Slugs!!!” still playing on Felipe’s laptop.

But Coco had never mentioned anything about the movie until now.

“Do you need more pillows?” Héctor asked, as Coco resorted to rolling the quilt into a ball on the floor.

“No,” Coco said, lifting the quilt again. “This is good.”

With some effort, she hefted the quilt in one arm and taped the calculator on her jacket. It beeped.

She announced with authority as if speaking into a radio, “I have the material! Returning now!” She paused and saluted her parents. “The fleet thanks you for your contribution to the galactic war. Farewell and stay safe!”

With that she turned on her heel and, without another word, marched out the door.

There was a moment of silence as Héctor and Imelda stared at the empty doorway before Héctor hummed and grinned apologetically at Imelda.

“Well,” he said. “We can finish this conversation, or we can go see what that was all about.”

“And you’re going to choose the latter, aren’t you,” Imelda said in a flat voice.

“Ay, amor, you know me so well,” Héctor said, just before leaning over to kiss her cheek and then rolling out of bed.

Imelda watched him leave their room with an arched eyebrow, arms crossed, and Héctor swore he could feel her eyes burning holes into his shoulder blades just before he shut the door behind him.

Héctor had been gone for almost an hour when Imelda headed out to look for him. It shouldn't have taken that long to finish whatever game Coco was playing and send her back to bed.

Either the man had let himself be tricked into playing with her, or he was avoiding finishing the conversation that he had started.

Or both, probably.

As Imelda neared Coco’s bedroom, she heard her family’s laughter coming from behind the closed door, and huffed.

It was both. Definitely both.

“Look out, there’s a sand storm coming!” Said Coco’s voice, and Imelda put her ear to the door with a frown. “Whoosh whoosh! It’s here! Seal all the doors with every pillow you can find!”

“Right away, Captain Rivera!” Héctor said, and there was a shuffling sound, and Coco’s little voice saying, “The storm will take everything down if we don’t work fast Papá, and then we’ll have no shelter from them, and we’ll both die horrible deaths--”

“Ah, Coco--” Héctor said quickly, possibly coming to the same conclusion as Imelda--Coco’s make-believe game was becoming a little violent.

“One already bit you, Papá! It’s not long before the eggs crawl through your blood system and plant themselves in your brain!”

“O-kay,” Héctor said with some authority (if it wasn’t for the humor in his voice.) “Why don’t we play something else. What about unicorn wranglers or rainbow--”

“Unicorn wranglers? Pobrecito, they’re already clouding your mind,” Coco said solemnly, and Imelda found herself stifling a bemused chortle with her hand. “Don’t worry Papá, as long as the storm doesn’t damage our supply of anti-venom, you’ll be ok.”

“Well, that’s good,” Héctor said, and finally Imelda opened the door. It sounded like a good place to end their game.

When she stepped into the room, she paused and raised her eyebrows at the sight that greeted her. Coco’s favorite blanket had been stretched across wicker chairs and the corners of her dresser, the baby blue material pockmarked by little lilac stars and planets and decorated with strings of little lights. A fluffed pillow was leaning against what looked like a Coco sized entry way right in front of Imelda, with Coco’s Rey and Finn figurines standing on either side like guards. Coco and Héctor’s shadows were visible from within the fort, as if some source of light glowed softly in the center and casted their shadows against the blanket.

Imelda quietly shut the door behind her, then went to stand near the opening, arms crossed, as she listened to Coco make more “whoosh whoosh” sounds.

“The wind’s too strong, the storm is taking down the fort!” Coco screamed, and Héctor gasped. Discreetly, he gripped the bottom of the blanket and began to shake it, as if it really was billowing in some strong wind.

“Oh no!” Coco yelled. “The anti-venom! It’s gone! The wind took it!”

“Oh nooo! What do we do, Captain?” Héctor asked in one of the most dramatic voices Imelda had ever heard him use. “We won’t make it without the anti-venom! We’re doomed!”

Imelda watched his shadow throw an arm against his forehead in a display of ultimate despair.

“I won’t let you succumb to the venom, Papá!” Coco said. “We’ll make it through this. Remember, we’re Riveras! We’re tough!”

“You’re right mijita, but—oh no—” Héctor gasped. “Oh no--”

“What? What is it?” Coco asked in a near whisper.

“Mira--outside. There’s a shadow,” Héctor said. His shadow pointed right at Imelda and Imelda planted her fists on her hips, “Somebody’s here. We’re not alone!”

Coco gasped. Her shadow scrambled into Héctor’s lap. “We’re surrounded! Shhh, they can’t know we’re here!”

“It’s too late,” Imelda said in a booming voice to two surprised gasps. She squared her shoulders and held her hands up like claws, casting a monstrous shadow against the wall of lilac stars.

Her first instinct had been to end the game and send Coco to bed. It was late, there was school tomorrow, and Héctor wasn’t done packing for his trip. She was sure Héctor and Coco had expected her to do the same. But Héctor had already involved her in the imaginary adventure by pointing her out, and as strict as she knew she should be, she was not about to send her daughter to bed in tears.

Besides, this was going to be the last night they spent together as a family for many nights to come. She might as well join in on whatever fun there was to be had before it was all put to an end.

“You can’t escape me,” she growled and stomped forward. “Soy el cucuy, and I can sniff out little daughters who should be in bed and are not!”

“No, Mamá!” Coco said insistently, “We’re playing Space Slugs!”

Imelda paused and silently promised punishment upon her brothers and their awful 80s B movies. “Ah.”

“Yeah, Imelda, remember?” Héctor said. “Space Slugs.”

Imelda rolled her eyes. She could very clearly picture Héctor’s teasing expression, even if she couldn’t see it. “Pues, I am the Space Slug of Sleep, and I smell two humans who should be sleeping!”

After one giant step forward, she grabbed the ballerina print pillow covering the fort entrance and tossed it aside. Coco screamed and Héctor shrieked and Imelda ducked her head under the star strewn roof and roared.

Inside the fort, Héctor was seated on a purple pillow with the top of his mussed hair brushing the bed sheet stretched overhead. In his lap, Coco was still dressed in her strange outfit, and she pointed one gloved finger at Imelda and yelled, “We have a breach!”

“Que está despierto!” Imelda snarled, flexing her spread fingers like grasping claws, and suddenly Coco rolled out of her Papá’s lap and ran at Imelda with her hands in the air as if shielding Héctor from the intruder. Shrieking with laughter, she ran until Imelda scooped her up into her arms and cuddled her close.

“Caught you!” Imelda said, tickling Coco’s sides. “You should be asleep, chiquita!”

“Noo, nooo Mamá!” Coco giggled. She kicked her legs until Imelda, kneeling, finally set her down. Gasping around her giggling, Coco took hold of Imelda’s hand and pointed at her laughing father. “We can’t sleep! Papá’s been infected by Space Slugs!”

“Good,” Imelda growled. “He’s mine to control. He’ll wash dishes for one thousand years—”

“Noooo!” Coco and Héctor cried in unison.

“Sí!”

“But Mamá, you’re not a slug,” Coco said with a stomp of her foot. Imelda frowned at her sudden anger until Coco tugged her further into the fort, pulling her to sit cross legged next to Héctor. “You’re Doctor Imelda, and you have to help cure Papá, ok?”

“Oh?” Imelda asked. She raised an eyebrow at Héctor, who grinned at her and nudged her in the side with his elbow.

“Ándale, Imelda, have some fun.”

“It’s not fun,” Coco said gravely. “This is a dire situation, Papá. You won’t make it through the night if we can’t help you!”

Héctor and Imelda exchanged glances. Their daughter had apparently taken the old movie very seriously. Imelda would consider banning her brothers from watching those badly filmed movies ever again if she wasn’t sure they’d find a way around it.

“Of course,” Héctor said placatingly, “Lo siento, mijita.”

“We have to be serious,” Coco said, tapping the palm of her hand with each word. “Doctor Imelda, can you help him?”

“You just had to go and get yourself infected, didn’t you,” Imelda said to Héctor, who shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile with puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sorry, Doctor Imelda.”

Coco was watching them intently, all joy from the game apparently gone from her mind.

“Very well,” Imelda said, and Coco gave a relieved sigh. “I will help him. So how do we get the slugs out of his blood?”

“We lost all our anti-venom in the dust storm,” Coco said. She rubbed her chin and sighed. “We have one choice left. We must operate.” She gave Héctor a pitying look and patted his knee. “I’m sorry, Papá. But Doctor Imelda is the best in the whole entire universe. If anyone can save you, it’s her.”

“I believe it,” Héctor said, and winked at Imelda.

“We can’t leave those mean slug jerks in you any longer!” Coco said, and Imelda felt some relief that her brothers had at least showed Coco the PG-13 version of the movie to keep her from repeating curses from the original dialogue. “The longer they’re in you, the more bad ideas they give you!”

“Dios mio! I’ll do what I can, Captain. We don’t want bad ideas,” Imelda said, with Héctor nodding in agreement. In the movie, the “bad ideas” the slugs had planted in the lost space crew had been badly filmed hallucinations that led to ridiculous deaths.

“I’ll get you the specialized tools to cut his arm open and take the slugs and their eggs out,” Coco said. Héctor looked alarmed at the gory imagery. “Because if we don’t do it now, the slugs might make him go away forever!”

“I would never leave you forever,” Héctor said, looking softly at his daughter. He was gripping his hands together, suddenly uncomfortable with the make-believe dangers of the game, and Imelda watched silently as Coco stomped her foot and clenched her fists.

“They’re already making you leave with Tío Ernesto! Again! Who knows what they’ll do after that!” She shook her head and looked at Imelda. “He’s not in his right brain. He’s been wandering the Slug Desert for 100 years all by himself. He’s losing his mind. We have to help him.” She looked at Héctor and took a deep breath. “I’ll always remember you Papá, but I won’t let them take you forever.”

Héctor looked over Coco’s braided hair at Imelda, uncertain and lost. Imelda didn’t know what to say. Coco had never reacted this way to Héctor traveling. And she’d already told him there was nothing he could do to placate her unless he canceled the trip. What comfort could Imelda offer when their daughter was clearly more distraught than either of them had imagined?

“Coco,” Héctor said slowly, “I’m coming home, mija. I’m not--”

At that moment, Héctor’s phone began to ring from his pocket, and with a tsk he pulled it out to silence it--

--and Coco snatched it out of his hand.

Shuffling out of reach, Coco answered before either of her parents could stop her. “Captain Rivera speaking! This better be important!”

There a second of silence on the other end, then Ernesto’s voice said, “Captain Coco, I need to speak to your Papá.”

“He’s dying,” Coco said matter-of-factly.

“Qué molestia,” Ernesto said. “Can I speak to him before he does?”

“No! We’re going to operate!”

“Coco,” Héctor said, and tried to reach for the phone, but Coco grabbed a pillow up to fend him off.

“Well, when you’re done, tell him I’m a minute away,” Ernesto’s voice said. “We need to speak before--”

“OK, bye,” Coco said, and hung up before Ernesto could finish. She lowered the pillow and met Imelda’s eyes. “We need to operate. Now.”

“Mijita,” Imelda said. “Maybe we should talk.”

“No time! We need to get those slugs out!”

“Coco,” Héctor said again, and his next words were drowned out by the rumble of an angry engine roaring down the road outside.

Coco gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide. She looked at her parents and said in a loud whisper, “It’s the Slug King.”

“No, mija, it’s Tío Ernesto,” Héctor said with a frown.

Imelda have him an irritated look. Just what did Ernesto need to say at one in the morning? And did his car really need to be so loud?

With a sigh, Héctor shrugged and began to crawl out of the fort. “I’ll be right back.”

“No, Papá!” Coco gasped. “We need to operate!”

“We’ll operate later,” Imelda said, picking Coco up to bring her close. “As soon as we can. Right now, Papá needs to tell the Slug King to go away.”

“I promise I’ll be back,” Héctor said. He saluted her and winked. “I promise, Captain.”

Pursing her lips, Coco have him a return salute, and Héctor ducked out of the fort without another word.

“Godspeed, Papá,” Coco said solemnly, and Imelda promised herself she’d have a very serious talk with her brothers about their awful movies before they even had a chance to leave their room the next morning.

The King Slug had her Papá. Coco just knew it.

He’d been gone too long. Coco didn’t know exactly how long, but it felt like a really long time, and Mamá already looked sleepy. She wasn’t even keeping up with Coco in sneaking through the front door to find Papá.

Still clad in her Captain outfit, Coco gestured sharply at Mamá to keep as silent as possible. Mamá nodded, holding her helmet (a large bucket Coco had dug out of her closet) steady over her braids, and followed Coco through the entryway.

Coco knew they were walking through their home. But in her imagination, they were also walking through the Slug Desert, where Papá had wandered all alone and got bitten by slugs. They had to be careful, or they’d get bitten too, and her whole family would wander apart from each other for a billion years.

Coco wouldn’t let that happen. No way. Not to her familia.

She could hear voices coming from the sitting room. Angry voices. She wondered if the King Slug was there. She’d heard it growling angrily outside their home before Papá had disappeared.

The sitting room was right around the corner. Flattening herself against the wall, and motioning for Mamá to do the same, Coco very carefully peeked around the edge.

“You did what?!”

“Héctor--”

“Without asking me first!”

“Listen to me--”

That was Papá and Tío Ernesto. Yelling at each other. It sounded like they had been arguing forever. Coco saw Papá walking back and forth and running a hand through his messy hair, and Tío Ernesto waving a hand at him as he talked. With a worried frown, Coco looked up at Mamá. She looked angry and confused, listening to the voices without looking around the corner.

“Two more months, and that’s all,” Tío Ernesto said, like he was trying to calm Papá down. “It won’t even feel that long--mira, we can visit as often as we want once we get paid--”

“I don’t want to just visit my family,” Papá said. “I shouldn’t have to visit them! Por Dios, Nesto, I can’t be away three months!”

Coco’s heart hurt. Away for three months? That was too long. Papá was going away for too long. Why would he do that?

Except, Coco knew why. She’d known from the very beginning.

The slugs were taking hold of Papá.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked around the corner again and saw something angry in Tío Ernesto’s glare.

It was the King Slug. And it had taken control of Tío Ernesto already.

Now it wanted Papá.

Coco took a deep breath. She was in her home, she knew that, but her imagination turned the comfortable place into the hot, dusty plains of the Slug Desert. The sun was beating down on her. Her Mamá was leaning back against a giant boulder, frowning at the red alien sky, her gloved hands clenched at her sides. Around the boulder, Papá was trapped in a gulley, his hair full of sand and dirt, his soldier’s gear torn and beaten, and in front of him his old friend looked at him with the King Slug’s glittering silver eyes.

“So they visit you!” Ernesto said. “Héctor, if we keep to this contract, we’ll make enough to fly them out every other weekend. Luxury hotels, expensive food, only the best. And we’ll have the same every day. We just need to--”

“Ernesto,” Papá said, sounding sad and angry at the same time. “I can’t. I can do the first month, but the next two? No.”

Tío Ernesto had a look in his eyes that Coco didn’t like. “I need your songs, Héctor. I need you there with me.” He paused and stepped closer to Papá, holding his hands out. “We’re this close. Only three months, and we’ll be famous. We’ll achieve our dreams, hermanito.”

Papá was quiet, looking at the ground, frowning. Coco pursed her lips. Papá couldn’t possibly be thinking of doing it! The King Slug couldn’t take him away like this!

With a smile, Tío Ernesto thumped a hand on Papá’s shoulder. “I bought our favorite tequila for the trip. A few shots and all our worries will be gone.”

Papá bit his lip. Coco’s heart fell.

She was going to lose him forever.

The King Slug was winning. The Bad Ideas were winning.

With a huff, Coco clenched her fist. No. No, she wouldn’t let it end like this. Maybe it was too late for Tío Ernesto. But it wasn’t for Papá. She was Captain Rivera, and like the captain from the movie, she was going to protect her crew!

She replayed the best scene in her mind. In the movie, the captain had taken her weapon from her belt. In Coco’s case, she removed one boot.

Ready.

The movie captain had pointed the weapon at the King Slug, yelling and running. But Coco just lifted her boot over her head and narrowed her eyes at Tío Ernesto’s forehead.

Aim.

And then, with tears in her eyes, the movie captain had fired lasers into the King Slug’s gaping maw.

Coco tightened her grip on the boot. She lifted it high over her head, and swung.

Fire.

The boot flew through the air. And like a missle, it hit it’s target dead center.

She’d heard Tío Ernesto curse before, but never like this. The word tore from his throat when the boot hit him between the eyes and his head knocked back. The boot fell, and he slapped a hand to his face, while Papá stared in shock.

Coco couldn’t hold herself back anymore. With a yell, she ran around the corner and leaped into Papá’s arms.

“You can’t go!” She sobbed. She didn’t know when she had started crying. “Don’t let the slugs take you! You can’t! You can’t!”

She was sobbing too hard to talk. Her throat hurt. She pressed her face into Papá’s shirt and held him so tight she thought she would break his neck. He was holding her tight, patting her back, but nothing would calm her down, not if he left.

There was silence. And then, Papá said, “You need to go home, Ernesto.”

Tío Ernesto said slowly, “And we’ll leave tomorrow?”

Papá’s hand soothed down Coco’s hair. “I don’t think so. Not now.”

Tío Ernesto sounded angry when he spoke, like the King Slug was talking through him, “You can’t be serious!”

“He is very serious,” Mamá’s voice said from nearby. “Making contracts without him, Ernesto, you--”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Papá said. “Por favor, Nesto.”

Tío Ernesto was quiet. He’d made Papá angry, and he was angry too, but Coco didn’t care. He wasn’t making Papá leave.

“Bueno.” Tío Ernesto sounded farther away. “I’ll call you. But this is a mistake, Héctor.”

“Maybe,” Papá said. Silence again, then footsteps, and the sound of the front door slamming shut.

“Coco,” Papá said, softly, and Coco sniffled. “Mija.”

“I don’t want to play Space Slugs anymore,” Coco said. She was tired. Her head hurt. She was also hungry. Crying too a lot of energy. “Can we watch a movie? Por favor?” Mamá and Papá looked at each other for a long time. Until Papá smiled and ruffled her hair. “Of course. What movie do you want to see?”

“Not from Tío Oscar or Tío Felipe’s old movies,” Mamá ordered, and Coco thought next time she should be captain.

“Ninja Turtles!” Coco said. “No! Zootopia! Wait--Princess and the Frog--”

“You have until I make popcorn to decide,” Mamá said, walking to the kitchen, and Coco went through her entire movie collection in her head, ignoring the roar of the King Slug outside as it moved farther and farther from their home.

They weren’t in the desert anymore. It wasn’t hot and dusty. They were in their home, and it was warm and cozy, and the pillow fort glowed softly around them.

The King Slug and Tío Ernesto’s Bad Ideas were far away.

Coco plucked the last of the popcorn from the bowl and tossed them into her mouth. On the laptop screen, Stitch was saving Lilo, and Coco sipped at her mug of warm atole.

On either side of her, Mamá and Papá slept peacefully, cushioned by Coco’s favorite pillows and blankets. Papá was snoring. Usually it made Coco giggle, but tonight she was just glad to hear it.

Papá wasn’t leaving. Not for a while, at least. The King Slug hadn’t won.

Captain Rivera had won.

Smirking, triumphant, Coco snuggled back against her orange pillow and set her mug down. She knew her parents wouldn’t send her to school tomorrow, since they had all gone to sleep so late, and she knew Papá wasn’t going away for three months.

It had been tough, but she had definitely won. She’d even done better than the movie captain! The movie captain had lost four of her crew. And Coco? She hadn’t lost anyone.

...except for Tío Ernesto.

Well. She tapped her chin. She’d have to save him some day, too. Get rid of the King Slug forever and free her Papá’s friend. Somehow. One day.

But sometimes you just had to be glad for the people you did save. And she was glad she’d saved Papá.

She was really sleepy. Pulling her blanket up to her chin, Coco shut her eyes and listened to the end of the movie playing.

She loved her Papá’s songs, but for once she was glad they weren’t singing Remember Me before Papá left on a trip.

Warm, with both her parents close, Captain Rivera fell asleep, listening to the snoring and the movie and knowing Mamá and Papá were safe at home.

(And one day, Tío Ernesto would be safe, too.)

#coco #héctor rivera #imelda rivera #look i wrote a thing

[justanoutlawfic]

The Guardians: What Happened?

Summary: Robin tells Regina what happened the night of their blind date.

Mentions of alcoholism and infant death in this chapter.

Also on AO3

Regina had to admit, it was a lot harder to hate Robin now that they were living under one roof. Before Neal and Emma died, they were equal opportunity jerks to one another. They’d give jabs as good as they got, sometimes it’d raise to bickering but never more. Regina never felt guilty about it because they could still be in the same room when the time called for it and it wasn’t like he didn’t give what he put out.

 Since they moved in together, though, he was tame. He did his fair share with Henry and the housework. He stuck to the schedule they had created to give them both a little free time. Once, Regina had even needed him to take Henry last minute when she had an emergency with one of her patients and he had been more than happy to oblige. She had been expecting at least a little fight, but there wasn’t so much as an exaggerated eye roll.

 Regina definitely came off looking like the asshole and she didn’t like it. She realized that she had spent so long hating him, for one bad date. Since then, he hadn’t done anything to make her life more challenging. He was adjusting to their situation and trying to be civil. Regina was the one that couldn’t cope.

 So, she did her best to play nice. She was naturally sarcastic, she got that from her mother’s side, but their jabs were more playful than anything. Regina even found herself smiling around him some days. One night, they even gave Henry a bath together.

 After he was tucked into bed, Regina decided to broach a subject she hadn’t wanted to discuss with him when she wasn’t sure where they were as co-parents. Now, it just felt wrong to leave him out of it.

 “Henry’s birthday is in a month,” she said.

 Robin blinked a couple of times, obviously caught a bit off guard. She couldn’t blame him. That meant that it had been a whole month since Emma and Neal died. One month since they had begun their co-parenting. Between taking turns with a fussy baby-Henry had reverted from sleeping through the night since the accident-and work, time had really flown by.

 “It’s not that I forgot, just…”

“With everything going on, I haven’t had time to think about it myself.” Regina bit her lip. “Emma had been planning this backyard thing. Neal was hiring a bouncy castle, they were going to have Granny’s Diner cater. Emma had told me about it, but I forgot until the landline got a call today about the castle.” She paused for a moment. “I told them to go ahead with it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Henry should have a good first birthday, even if we’re still adjusting to this whole parenting thing.”

“Great. I’ll drop off the invitations tomorrow.”

“Let me guess, Emma had those all worked out too?”

“She wasn’t very organized except for when it came to him.”

“Neal was the same way.”

 An awkward silence filled them. They didn’t talk about much outside Henry, especially not about the friends they lost. As a psychologist, Regina knew that was bad. Out of everyone, they were the only ones that knew how the other felt. They had lost two people in their lives that had been their family. Neither had much in the way biological wise. Robin’s parents were dead and Regina wasn’t close to her mother and sister. Cora hadn’t even called Regina since the funeral. They had lost two members of their chosen family and it hurt, more than they could ever describe.

 Regina chose not to say anything about that, instead she brought up the question that she had in her mind for the past 6 years. “Why were you so weird on our date?”

Robin laughed, shaking his head. “Seriously?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. You’ve been so great and I’ve been well, a jerk to put it kindly.” She folded her arms over her chest. “For the best interest of Henry, we have to move forward and try to get along better.”

“Is that your psych speech?”

“If it was my psych speech, you’d pay me by the hour.”

“Touché.”

 Regina gave him a look as if to say go on and Robin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He gestured for her to sit on the couch and followed suit once she did.

 “You know I was married before, right? To Marian?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, during our marriage, we found out we were having a baby. A little girl. We were so excited.”

“You have a child?”

“We had a child,” Robin corrected. “When Marian was about 20 weeks, we went in for a scan and found out that the baby didn’t have a brain.’

Regina felt her stomach drop and suddenly she felt guilty for bringing this up. “Robin…”

“Please, let me continue. They gave us a choice. Carry to term or deliver, either way it wouldn’t matter because she wouldn’t live longer than a few hours.”

 Regina’s hand flew over her mouth and Robin looked as though he wanted to break, but he pressed on.

 “Anyway,” he waved off the emotion on his face. “After that, things were hard. Marian and I didn’t have the best of marriages to begin with. We loved each other sure, but there was always something missing. I had to go on the road for work after that and the more I called Marian, the more times she’d answer drunk. She swore she never had a problem. Eventually, things just got too had and we agreed it’d be best to divorce. Still, we remained friends. We were the only ones that knew what it was like to go through what we did.”

“Of course,” Regina whispered.

“So, Marian would still call me every so often, drunk off her ass. I tried to get her help, as did our other friends and her family. We couldn’t convince her. The night we went out…it was our daughter’s birthday.”

“Oh my God.”

“I was fine, I don’t like being alone on it, so I figured our date would be a good way to take my mind off of it. Marian chose to get drunk and she was the one that was blowing up my phone that night.”

Regina frowned. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Because it’s a long, personal story and not exactly first date material. I thought if you knew my ex was still so close to me, it’d be a turn off. Would it have been?”

Regina squirmed a bit in her seat. “Well…I don’t know.”

 That was honest. Leopold had been obsessed with his dead wife, but that was a bit different. She had never been int hat situation before. A part of her wanted to think she’d be okay with it, but the other knew she’d probably want to wait to be in a relationship with Robin until Marian wasn’t so dependent on him.

 Robin nodded, as if to say he had made his point. “Besides, after that you and I blew up about something else all-together. Neal tried to tell me to tell you after, but I just didn’t see the point. Even if I did, we both said some pretty dumb things that night.”

Regina winced at the memory. “Yeah, we did.” There was another moment of silence between the two of them. “Is Marian better now?”

“Yes. After that night, I got firm with her. It took some time, but she finally got some help. She’s been sober 5 years now. Remarried, with a kid of her own.”

“That’s great.”

“It is.”

“Given what you’ve gone through…I’m really surprised you agreed to take on Henry with me,”

“It wasn’t easy, but I realized that he needed me and maybe I needed him too.”

“He adores you, Robin. His eyes light up whenever you walk into a room.”

“They do not.”

“They do.”

Robin softly smiled. “He’s pretty amazing.”

 Regina’s eyes flickered to the family portrait of Emma, Neal and Henry on the wall. It had been taken when he was just a few weeks old. They were both smiling down at their son as if he hung the moon. God, they had loved him so much.

“What are we going to tell him one day? About them?”

“That they loved him and yet were crazy enough to leave him to us.”

Regina rolled her eyes. Their sappy moment was truly over. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know. You’re the child psychologist. What would you tell yourself if you were a patient?”

“To be honest. To talk about them, but not be obsessive so he wouldn’t think that we didn’t want him.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

 Regina looked back at the photo. She realized in that moment, that she and Robin shared something else. Given his own past and the loss of his daughter, he had admitted it had been hard to take on Henry. It had been for Regina too. Not the day to day aspect, but the fact that she was going to be his mother. She couldn’t just be “Aunt Regina”, no, she was now his mom. She was taking Emma’s place. He’d never remember his biological parents, just Regina and Robin.

 How was that at all fair?

#the guardians verse #outlaw queen #outlaw queen au

[wayward-marvel-sommer1196]

No Memories Part 2: A Memory

Pairing: Dean x Winchester Sister!Reader  Sam x Winchester Sister!Reader

Warnings: Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Car crash, hospitalization

Word Count: 3348

A/N: Okay so I lied, this isn’t a short part 2. I got carried away and completely scraped my outlined ending so I could stretch this and make more parts. Part 1 has gotten 122 notes in just under 24 hours which is the most I have ever gotten on a story and in such a short time. Thanks for all the kind words about part 1 and hope you enjoy part 2. I don’t know when a part 3 will be out since I still have to outline it but expect it sometime in the future. The continuation of this story is all thanks to you guys so give yourselves a round of applause as you have given me more work to do lol. Just kidding I actually really like this series myself and I look forward to continuing it.

Summary: The police now believe Dean about your kidnapping, but since you have crossed state lines how do they deal with the situation of your “parents”? You can’t really focus too much on your parents as you can’t get the thoughts of Dean out of your head. Why was everything about this man so familiar? One thing is for sure nothing is making sense, but then again, isn’t it? You guys have the same eyes…. what else could be shared?

(Sorry this summary is shit. My head just wants to spoil everything, but I have to hold back and this is that product.)

Masterlist - No Memories

***Italics are flashbacks/memories***

^ Just imagine in the hospital with a cast on one leg and hair a little longer.

^ Ok but picture this but with only the top half of his body laying down on the side of your hospital bed, next to you 

“Mr. Winchester, can I speak to you outside,” the officer said.

Dean nodded his head and let you go. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said as he stood up and placed a kiss on your head and approached the officer.

“We found the missing person’s report your father, John Winchester, filed ten years ago,” the officer said.

Dean released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “That’s good, right? That means I can take her home from here,” Dean said.

“Well, that’s where things get a little difficult. Can you have your father come here as soon as possible?”

“I can’t do that. He died four years ago. All that’s left is my little brother Sam and I. You can’t let Y/N go back to those people. She is terrified of them. When I mentioned you were going to contact them, she freaked out. They were the ones she was running away from. They were abusing her.”

“Okay calm down Mr. Winchester. I believe you, especially since the doctor seems to back up the abuse story with prior injuries she has sustained.”

At this Dean flinched, he didn’t want to think about what those people did to you because of his stupidity. “So, what do we do now?” Dean asked.

“Well, we can fast track a DNA sample but even then, it will take at least 24 hours. And then we have the parents to worry about, and the fact that she’s crossed state lines.”

“First of all, those people are not her parents. Second, I don’t have anywhere I need to be in the next 24 hours so let’s do the DNA test. Third I think I might have a solution for those people who claim to be her parents. You can’t take them because they are across state lines, right?” The officer nodded. “Well, what if we call them up and tell them we have Y/N here at the hospital and have them come here?”

“That actually might work. I’ll have to call my boss and get the go ahead, but I don’t see why not. They are about a half days drive out without stopping so it will give us time. First order of business though, I’ll have the lab tech come down and collect DNA samples from you two.”

“Okay but first let me run this plan by her. See if she is okay with those people showing up.” The officer nodded, handed Dean one of his cards to call him with an answer, and walked away.

Dean stalked back into the room and saw you with one leg bent up resting your arms on it, staring out the window with your long (Y/H/C) locks cascading down your face and off your shoulder. You weren’t a little girl anymore. His baby sister had grown into a beautiful young woman. Dean couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of missing you grow up. Then the guilt came flooding back as he was the one to lose you in the first place.

Right then you turned your head and your green orbs stared right into his seeing the same emotions you had been seeing throughout the course of the day. Dean didn’t realize you had started looking back at him.

“De? Anybody there?” you chuckled as you snapped your fingers to get his attention.

He shook his head and smiled. “Huh… Yeah, sorry. I’m here.”

“Where does our head go when you space out like that? It doesn’t look like it’s anywhere fine.”

“Trust me, it’s not. I’ll tell you that in a second. First I have to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about your…” Dean hesitated on the last word. “Parents.”

“What about them?”

“We have a plan to make them pay for what they did to you, but I need to know you are comfortable with it.”

“Okay,” you said your voice a little shaky. “What is it?”

“We will call your parents and tell them you are here,” before Dean could continue he saw the fear rise in your eyes and your head start to shake. He grabbed your shoulders, looked directly into your eyes, and smiled. “BUT once they arrive they get arrested. I will be right next to you the entire time. I’m not sure how the police want to play it. If they need your parents to just enter the hospital or your room or whatever, but I’ll be by your side. I won’t let anything happen to you. I also told them that if you were not okay with it, we wouldn’t do it.”

You took a minute to think out your options. If you did this, then you would be free of them for good. If you didn’t, there was always the chance they could track you down. “You promise you won’t leave me when they show up?” you asked. Dean nodded his head. “I’ll do it.”

He smiled at you and gave you hug. “Okay, well I have to go make a quick phone call and meet someone in the lobby.” You nodded your head.

Dean pulled out his phone giving the officer the green light to continue the plan and the officer let him know the lab tech was on the way to get their DNA samples.

He walked out to the lobby and went straight to Sam. He explained everything that was going on and Sam listened. He explained you still didn’t remember but little things were popping up from then like his nickname. Sam gave a sad smile hugged his brother and told him to go back.

This time walking back in Dean saw you hanging your legs off the bed looking like you were going to stand up. You used your arms to push yourself up but started to lose your footing with the heavy cast on your leg putting too much strain on your arms. Dean saw you starting to wobble and was quickly at your side to grab you before you hit the floor.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” Dean said.

“Thanks,” you said as you looked at his face seeing that look again. “There’s that look again.”

“What look?”

“That look you get when you look at me. It’s like guilt and sadness all rolled up into one. Why? You saved me and are still saving me. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”

“Remember when you asked about my head space earlier?” You nodded and Dean took a seat next to you. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I had a little sister. Her mom abandoned her with my dad, my little brother Sam, and I when she was an infant. I quickly feel in love with that little girl. She was the cutest little baby in the whole world. I was 16 at the time, but knew that little girl was going to be the death of me. She had the same green eyes as I did and quickly became my little mini me. My dad traveled a lot with work, so I took care of her most the time. She was basically like my daughter.”

“What happened to her?”

“One day when she was 5 I took her to the park. She was just so full of energy and usually my little brother would sit and play like Barbie’s with her but he was at school that day so I figured the park would be the perfect place for her to tire herself out. Boy, was I wrong. It was all good at first, she was calling me to watch her on every jungle gym, it was so cute.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the fond memory of the little girl. “The smile she had on her face just lit up my world. But being that I was young and stupid and a man, a cute girl walked by and I momentarily got distracted. When I looked back over for my sister, she was gone. I searched the whole park, but I never found her. Someone took her and it was my fault.”

Dean didn’t want to shock you so he left out the part about it being you. “I guess that’s just the look I always carry on my face. I never saw my little sister again. That was 10 years ago.”

“What was her name?”

Before Dean could answer, the lab tech came in. He took buccal swabs from both of you, which at first confused you. Dean explained it away saying it was probably just to eliminate his DNA from anything at the site. Luckily for him you bought it.

After two police detectives came walking in and explained everything that was going to happen. Your parents would have to come in the room. They needed to be caught in the act, but didn’t actually have to hit you. So as long as someone was there to stop it you would be fine. The detectives were there for hours asking you questions about your parents, your home life, and the abuse. The also wanted to prep you for what was going to happen when your parents showed up since they were on their way.

Once the whole ordeal was over you were exhausted. Once everyone had left your room, Dean looked over at you to see you peacefully asleep. He pulled the covers up and over you, placed a kiss to your forehead, and whispered, “I’m so sorry sweetheart. Forgive me for all the pain you had to endure because of me.”

Dean had walked down to the lobby and spent a couple hours sitting with his brother, both just talking and thinking out loud. Dean could tell Sammy was upset he couldn’t go and see his little sister, but three was nothing he could do. Sam understood why, but I didn’t make things any easier for him. After a while Dean went back to your room and Sam slept in the hospital lobby.

The next morning you woke up to see Dean asleep with his head on his arms on the edge of your bed. You couldn’t help but feel a connection to this man. It was something stronger than the fact he just saved your life. Then there was the story of his little sister. Why had that story resonated with you so much? You could picture it so vividly almost like it was you. Then there were the words he whispered into your ear last night when he thought you were completely asleep. What did he have to be sorry for? How was your pain his fault? All the thoughts were making you dizzy just swirling around in your head. So much of this didn’t make any sense, but at the same time it did.

You don’t know why but you had the urge to run your fingers through his hair. It was almost like you had a memory of doing it to wake him up, but you just met him, how is that possible?

Dean stirred awake at the sensation of your fingers running through his hair. It took him a second to gather his wits and realize where he was. He looked into your green eyes and couldn’t help but smile. You noticed that this time his smile reached his eyes. He was genuinely happy for the first time since you met him two nights ago.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he uttered with sleep still laced in his voice.

“Why does it feel like I’ve known you my whole life, when I just met you two days ago?” you questioned.

Dean was shocked by your question, but before he could answer one of the detectives entered your room.

“Your parents just called. They are about 10 minutes away. I thought you would like the heads up to prepare yourself,” the detective said and you nodded appreciatively.

“De, I’m nervous. What if something happens and they hurt me?” you said.

“I’ll be right here sweetheart. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever again,” the last couple of words he whispered under his breath, but you still heard them.

You saw your parents enter your floor and you began to tense. Dean grabbed your shoulder reassuring you he was there.

“Thank god, Y/N there you are. You had us worried sick. You can’t just run off like that,” your mother said. As she went stroke your cheek, you flinched.

“Were you really worried? You didn’t seem to worried about me when I was laying on the floor bloody, bruised, and crying for him to stop hitting me,” you said as you pointed to your father.

“You little ungrateful bitch,” your father said as he raised his fist to punch you.

You squeezed your eyes shut awaiting the blow but it never came. You slowly opened your eyes to see that Dean had grabbed your fathers hand before it reached you. He shoved your father back.

“Don’t you touch her,” Dean yelled.

“Who the hell are you?” your dad countered with.

“I’m the man that’s going to make sure you never hurt her again,” Dean said but he leaned close to your father and whispered something you couldn’t catch. “I’m also the man you and your wife stole her from.” Whatever Dean said had your father’s eyes going wide almost in fear.

Before Dean could do any real damage, the police came up and arrested both your mother and your father.

Dean turned back to you and rushed to your side to make sure you were ok. “Hey sweetheart, are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good a little shaky but good,” you said. “What did you say back there that had my dad so freaked out?”

“That’s a story for another time,” he said as he gave you a hug. “Hey, do you mind if my brother joins us? He has been kinda waiting for me in the lobby since yesterday.”

“Oh, my god! Yeah, he can come in. Why didn’t you say anything? You could’ve left. I could’ve managed.”

“I was on my way to meet him when I ran into you and he’s fine. After everything that happened there wasn’t a chance in hell I was leaving you.”

You smiled at him and gestured for him to go get his brother. So, Dean walked out of the room and called his brother.

“Hey Sam, I need you to grab something from the trunk of Baby and bring it up,” Dean said through the phone.

“Yeah man sure. How is she after the whole ordeal?”

“She’s a bit shaken, but still the same resilient little girl we remember, besides not being so little anymore. She still doesn’t remember but I think she is on the right path. Remember her ‘Boo-boo Bear’?”

“Yeah what about it?”

“That’s what I need you to grab. It’s in the back of the trunk. And before you say anything just don’t. Grab it and get up here so I can re-introduce you to our sister.”

Sam hung up the phone and ran to the Impala he opened the trunk and found your bear neatly packed in a clear bag in the back of the trunk. He couldn’t help but smile. His brother had never taken care of something so well in his life, other than the car of course. He ran back in and met Dean outside your door.

“I can’t believe you kept this all these years,” Sam said to his brother.

“Yeah, well I needed something to remind me how much I fucked up,” Dean smiled sadly at the bear and Sam smiled at his brother knowing damn well that wasn’t the reason.

They both entered the room Dean keeping the bear hidden and Sam standing behind Dean. Instantly Sam looked familiar to you like Dean first did, but you just shrugged it off.

“Hey Y/N this is my little brother Sam,” Dean introduced.

“Little brother? He’s bigger than you,” you chuckled and so did Sam. “Nice to meet you Sam, I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Sam said sheepishly.

Sam seemed to be a little awkward and a bit standoffish completely opposite of his brother. You were sure why but again you just shrugged it off.

“I have something for you, sweetheart,” Dean said as he lifted the bear into your view.

As soon as you saw the bear your eyes widened and suddenly a memory popped into your head.

You were three years old and Dean was 19. Your dad was gone on a job. You never knew exactly what he did but you didn’t care. On this particular day, you were sick with the flu. You had a 102-degree fever and you were simultaneously hot and cold at the same time. You had cough that hurt your throat, your nose was so stuffy you couldn’t breathe, and you were all achy. You started to cry because nothing was making you feel better. Sam came running in the room to see what was wrong.

“Y/N, bug, what’s wrong?” he said.

“Sammy, everyfing hurts,” you said.

“I know, I know sweetie. I’m sorry,” 15-year-old Sammy said as he snuggled into you engulfing you in a bear hug.

“Where’s De?”

“He went to the store to get you some medicine, bug,” he said as he wiped some of your tears.

Just then Dean walked in the door with a couple of grocery bags in his hands. He set them down and pulled out your medicine and a teddy bear.

“Hey sweetheart how are we feeling?” Dean said.

“Very bad,” you said.

“I’m sorry sweetie I have medicine that will make you feel better. It tastes like bubble gum,” Dean said.

“O’tay,” you said.

“Sammy what was her last temperature?” Dean said.

“Still 102,” Sam said.

“Damn it, okay. How are you feeling? Cough? Stuffy nose? Feeling warm?” Dean said as he started to feel Sam’s head.

Sam swatted Dean’s hand away and said, “I’m fine.”

“Ok well I bought some chicken noodle soup if you get that started I’ll give her her medicine and get her settled.”

With that Sam started cooking and Dean went to you to give you your medicine and the surprise he got you.

“Sweetheart I need you to sit up,” Dean said and she complied. “Here’s your medicine. I need you to drink it okay?” You nodded and Dean helped you pour it in your mouth. “Great job sweetheart, now I need to fix your hair because it’s a rat’s nest,” you giggled and nodded. “But first I have a surprise for you,” Dean said as he pulled out the teddy bear. You shrieked and grabbed the bear squeezing it tight.

Dean situated himself behind you with a brush and a ponytail and started to dig the Y/H/C mess. “That is a special teddy bear, sweetheart,” he said.

“How?” you asked as he finishes parting your hair to start a braid.

“That there is a Boo-Boo Bear. Anytime you get sick, or upset, or get a boo-boo you take that bear and squeeze it tight and it will help you feel better.”

You looked down at the bear and gave it another squeeze and you did feel a little bit better, maybe it was just from the comfort, but either way it did help.

After a couple more minutes, Dean finished your braid and turned you to look at him. You gave him a big hug and kiss and said, “T’ank you, De. I feel better aweady. I wove you.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he said as he squeezed you and laid you back down with him. You snuggled into his side and fell asleep.

“Boo-Boo Bear?” you said almost in a whisper.

“You recognize that,” Sam said as he came closer.

“I do, Sammy,” you said as Sam’s jaw dropped at the use of his nickname. “Why do I have memories of you guys taking care of me as a sick toddler in a motel room? And why is everything about you two so familiar?”

Part 3 Coming at some point 

Tag List: Let me know if you want on the No Memories Tag List or my General SPN  Tag List 

@jensen-jarpad @winchesters-favorite-girl @sisterwinchesterwriter @27bmm @deanjensengirlmaggie @lenaabs @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @spn-applepie-imagines @alicat-life @bookgirlofnarnia @georgialouisea @meghan-brannon @trinty33 @deansgirl215 @kas-not-cas

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #reader insert #sister!winchester #winsister #winchester sister!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #winchester!sister mini series #SPN #tw: child abuse #tw: kidnapping #tw: car crash #tw: hospitalization #No Memories #Part 2: A Memory

[kristie-rp]

Questionable Responsibility

Original (middle section) by @cassandra-rp / @coloredinsanity

Sequel

“Your parents are great,” Elissa says from where she is sprawled across his bed.

Cethin hums his agreement from where he is scanning college brochures. Melina and Isaac are, objectively speaking, pretty fantastic foster-turned-adoptive parents, and Elissa thinks that more than most other people their age. She’s been raised next door by servants and nannies and tutors after her own parents, who died mysterious deaths either before Cethin lived here, or before he can remember. “What about your new bodyguard, ‘Lissa?” he asks, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Kachim? He’s – he’s not my bodyguard,” Elissa protests immediately, predictably. Cethin laughs, knowing she is probably blushing again. “He’s just – I found him on the ground while I was out riding and he’s been staying ever since, you know that.”

“That’s what you claim,” Cethin taunts, because he can be a jerk at times, and because he likes the way it makes Elissa more flustered than usual.

She is still stammering defences over Cethin’s laughter when Melina comes upstairs to get her to come downstairs to go with Kachim, back from wherever he goes when he’s not being a shadow with a smile. Cethin trails after her downstairs to swipe some food before his mom closes the kitchen in the lead up to dinner, waving at the bodyguard but not approaching. It’s not that he doesn’t like Kachim, it’s that there’s something vaguely unnerving about the way he looms. He’s a perfectly nice person, but he smiles like he’s got a secret, and in Cethin’s hyperactive imagination he swears he caught a glimpse of fangs in amongst that heavy Russian accent more than once.

Anyway.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” Melina instructs, amused. “Have you picked a college yet?”

“I haven’t even decided on a course yet, mom,” he laughs half-heartedly, rifling through the cupboard until he finds an apple that isn’t green and sour. “Engineering? Teaching? Social work? There are so many options, I don’t know how anyone chooses, let alone how I’m going to.”

“You don’t want to be a social worker,” his foster mother assures him. She’s pulling the ingredients she’ll need to prepare dinner out of various kitchen cupboards. “No thanks go to those poor people.”

“’Specially the ones who try to convince you to take more than you signed up for, right?” Cethin says it without any bitterness, but it’s not a happy comment. He’s a foster child, yes, and technically it’s thanks to an overinvested social worker that he’s now with the family he is. But then, according to everything his parents have told him – and his own hazy memories and the crying that haunts his too-vivid dreams at night – he has a biological sister. The social worker following his case tried to get them both in the same home, but the McKinley’s weren’t interested in a second child, or a daughter, and as he’s said – his parents are single-minded people. They took him. They didn’t take the girl, with a name his parents claim to have forgotten.

“Cethin...”

“Where’s dad?” he asks, cutting through the comment. Melina immediately turns away from him, the way she tends to when she’s hiding something. It’s common around his birthday, and around Christmas.

“He’s picking up a surprise for you, hopefully,” she says, her voice soft and warm. It’s full of love. He’s lucky to be in a house like this, not that he was deprived of affection before – he ended up in the system because a social worker had been concerned that his biological parents couldn’t afford to feed their two children. The couple – or the mother, at least – was coerced into giving them up, and Cethin has never forgiven the womans’ nosiness, even if she is owed some thanks. Cethin can learn to be single-minded, too.

“It’s not my birthday though?”

She snorts and pushes him off the counter, shooing him out of the kitchen. “Let me cook. We’re probably having company for dinner – go narrow down your course list, hm?”

“Fiiiine.”

Port Lyndon is cold enough during the summer, with constant rain and a sea breeze keeping everything crisp. In winter, any water that is not loaded with salt becomes ice. The cold is brutal, intense enough that even the most weather worn person is hesitant to brave a walk to the store.

Nobody wants to think about the light haired girl on the park bench, and how she isn’t going to be inside. They don’t want to look at a guilty face in the mirror when they go to bed tonight, tucking themselves into a soft bed in a heated home.

Her clothes are a mix of things, threadbare and stolen. She doesn’t remember the feeling of a warm bath, and she cannot recall the security a locked door might bring her.

Life is hard.

There are some who show kindness, as much as they can. There is a man who steps of of a closed cafe, leaving a box and a capped white bucket in a silent transaction. It’s a rare treat, the latter at least. Giselle picks it up with stiff fingers, forcing herself to her feet and starting on her journey. She considers being selfish, keeping the bounty for herself – but she isn’t that cruel.

Port Lyndon doesn’t only have its’ name because of the rich family who live on the hill. The Port part refers to the fact that the successful port remains, taking up large parts of the harbour. But time results in change, and the original shipyard is no longer used for business. It’s safe for people like her, the lost and the poor. They gather in metal forts built from abandoned shipping containers, and keep each other as safe as possible.

(She’s been abused so often in the past that she doesn’t feel safe, even among her own people. It doesn’t matter how deep the reassurance runs, it fails to reach her in a manner that will have an impact.)

The shipping containers make good homes and dependable roofs, but they’re cramped. The metal traps the heat from fires lit in barrels better than anything else they have found. One of them is near a table with nothing but a bell on it; it is here that she sets down her day-old pastries and leftover coffee, tapping the bell until it rings. She opens the box eagerly, picking out her favourite of the selection – a vanilla cupcake with raspberry icing, covered in cookie crumbs – as is the rule: deliverer gets first pick.

The adults begin to ration out what she has provided and what they already have, one of the younger adult men preparing a metal can that will serve to warm the coffee arm. Giselle lingers to watch, soaking in the warmth as she examines the scene through the cracked lenses of her glasses, before turning to walk through the shipyard. She can visit, but she cannot stay the night, not when she has already given her spot to a mother and her baby.

She finds the rotted old row boat she tends to store things in in as good condition as she expects, crawling into it and pulling the tarp back over. She flexes her fingers to work some mobility into them, and removes some pills from her bag. She forces them down dry, unwilling to brave the world outside for the frozen rainwater that might make it easier, and curls into a tight ball.

The drugs numb her enough that the cold won’t have her body shaking itself apart in the night, and her body relaxes slowly. Her sleep is deep, deep enough to last even with the snow that starts to fall again, pushing down on her tarp. It will eat into her bones in the morning, might make her sick again, and she remains out cold in every sense of the world, shivering and coughing even in her sleep.

She doesn’t feel the snow lighten, or the rush of cold as the tarp is removed. She certainly doesn’t feel the press of warm, gentle fingers to her wrist. Her body is numb all over, cold and the medication causing it, not that she could tell you what the medicine held.

What wakes her, just the slightest amount, is warmth enveloping her trembling frame. She is too tired and too close to sleep to bother with the anxiety she should feel, and she can see the edge of a car door as it closes. She is resigned to it: she expects to be used and abused, at this point. It won’t change anything. Nothing ever does, not for her.

“Mel?”

Cethin closes the brochure for PLU with a huff, more interested in his dad pulling into the driveway than he is in choosing his future. The black towncar is a cliché for the upper class, but Isaac loves it, and Cethin didn’t hate learning to drive in it, although he prefers the small coupe he has now. He gets to his feet to go look out the window at the drive, but his contacts aren’t designed for seeing things at a distance. He swears he can see his dad removing a bundle from the backseat of the car, something bundled in the picnic blanket that lives in the boot in case of the minor miracle of a sunny day in Port Lyndon, but that – that doesn’t make sense.

He’s tempted to go downstairs to investigate, and he does, lingering halfway down the steps to peer into the living room, where everything seems to be happening. His parents are leaning over someone on the couch, apparently, someone bundled in a picnic blanket, the throw rug, and worn fabrics in earth tones and blues. “Dad?”

Isaac ignores Cethin, which is unusual in itself. Melina turns, catches Cethin’s eye. “Bring down the space heater please, would you, Cethin? I need it in the bathroom.”

“Isn’t that a fire hazard?” Cethin asks empty air, Melina disappearing into the kitchen. He sighs and troops upstairs to remove the heater from the guest room, carrying it to the downstairs bathroom. It’s this one that has a bathtub, the only one in the house. His mom loves it, with Melina spending hours with the jets pummelling her aging body. She calls it soothing, but Cethin’s never liked baths.

Melina and the bundle disappear into the bathroom to the tune of running water after Cethin turns on the heater, and Cethin really, really doesn’t like not having answers. He comes into the living room to put his hands on his hips and stare at his dad – Isaac – until he gets attention. “What is it?”

“Who’s here?”

“Her name is Giselle, I believe. Or it was once.” Isaac frowns. So does Cethin, except his is less a frown and more a suspicious squint. His voice becomes wary.

“Dad?”

“Mm.”

“If you kidnapped someone, you wouldn’t drag mom into it, would you?”

“It’s not kidnapping!” Isaac protests a little too loudly for his liking, startled by the accusation. Cethin snorts. “Well, it won’t be. She should be sixteen, seventeen, something like that. Hardly a kid.”

“Those blankets were the tiniest not-kid I’ve ever seen,” Cethin points out. It’s Isaac’s turn to scoff. “Dad, why’d you bring them - her here? You should’ve taken ‘em home.”

“They don’t have a home.” That sounds incredibly ominous. Cethin stares at his father some more, until Isaac seems to realize what he said. “She’s homeless, Cethin. Let me – let me start again. Remember what we said when we asked if you’d like to be adopted?”

Sure he does. He calls his parents out on it all the time, when he wants a little guilt to help him have his way. “I have a sister that you didn’t want.”

“Right,” Isaac agrees, though it clearly pains him to do so. He never does like being seen as a bad person. “You want her, though.”

“Of course I do. She’s family. She deserves nice things, too.” She deserves to be as much of a spoilt child as he can be, actually, but he doesn’t say that. He thinks, instead, that what she – his almost-imaginary sister – deserves is to know she is loved unconditionally, and he knows enough horror stories to know not everyone in foster care gets the happily ever after he’s ended up with.

“Well – that’s her.”

Cethin snorts, because that seems unlikely, and his immediate thought it not likely. Then it pauses. Stops. He stares at his father yet again, because this is – what? “You kidnapped someone you think is my little sister?”

“She’s hardly in a state to provide a coherent response to any offers,” he protests. It’s defensive as anything Cethin has ever heard.

It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Cethin rubs under his eyes, the closest he can come to the exhausted rubbing at his eyes he can do with contacts in place. “You abducted someone because you think they’re related to me?”

“I know she is. Just – I do.”

Whatever protest Cethin has been planning on is interrupted by a sudden splash and an alarmed, wordless outburst. Both Cethin and Isaac look to the bathroom door in alarm, expecting yelling. None comes, just the soothing hum of Melina’s gentle voice, too quiet to be made out as she reassures this – Giselle. Supposed Giselle. Supposed sibling of Cethin.

“My parents are child abducters,” Cethin says hopelessly.

It’s probably a good thing Kachim took Elissa home when he did.

#kristie's writing #kristie writes #kwrites #kwriting #ft. cethin #ft. giselle #ft. isaac #ft. melina #ft. elissa #ft. kachim